Jimmy Hinton whispered. Gabi had slipped on the muddy bank and landed on her hands and knees. For a long moment she didn’t move, so long that Jimmy almost asked her again if she was okay. But she finally looked up at him. “The ground here smells bad.” “Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s an evil place.” She stood up and shook the mud from her hands. It was a frustrated gesture, like she was trying to restore her pride. But it was a moot effort at this point. There was more mud on the front of her dress than there was on the ground. The shape of the stain, the way it spread in a semicircle across her lap, reminded Jimmy of an apron. That was funny, he thought, his Gabi wearing an apron. Their marriage, especially these last eight years, had been as much about guns and keeping the Sugar Jane afloat as it was about love. This woman, who had meant so much to him, was anything but a domestic goddess. She didn’t mouse about the boat, begging him to make their decisions for their survival.
