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never thought I’d be at a loss, but…”
    “All my life you’ve told me straight, Dad.  Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
    “It’s about Leo.  I spoke with the sheriff this morning and I’ve learned some things.”
    “Like what?”
    “He was involved in some kind of double life.”
    “Why would you think that?”
    He paused for a minute.
    “Dad, just say it.  Please.”
    He breathed in the words he wanted to say and ejected them out like a machine gun engaged in rapid fire. “His real name isn’t Leo, his parents aren’t dead, and he had another wife.” 
    Something whizzed by Isabelle’s ear that felt like the sting of a bee.  She swept her finger across it, but didn’t feel cartilage, it was runny.  She brought her finger in front of her face and panicked.  “What the—dad?”
    Roland’s hand was gripped over his lower abdomen.  His body swayed to the side, and he fell, bringing the horse down with him. 
    “Dad!”
    Isabelle dismounted and ran to her father who attempted to pull himself up with his free hand.  “Let me help you,” she said. 
    He pushed her away.  “I can do this.  I don’t know what happened.  All of the sudden I felt a sharp pain.”
    Isabelle placed her hand over her father’s and pulled it back.  “Oh my gosh, you’re bleeding.”
    “I’m—what?”
    She pointed, “Your shirt.”
    The horse flicked its mane back and forth a few times and then stood back up, unharmed.  Isabelle grabbed her dad’s shirt and yanked.  The buttons broke free from their metal snaps and her mouth gaped open.  “You’ve been shot!”
    She wrenched the sweater from around her waist and tied it around him—tight.  She’d seen it done before in the movies—and whether it was the right thing to do or not, it was the single foremost idea in her mind.  
    “Can you ride?” she said.
    “Think so.”
    With her one good arm, she helped him up on his horse, hoisted herself back up on her own and took the reins from both horses in her right hand.  She knew he would cuss her later, but riding through the vineyard was the quickest way back to the house, and right now, her only desire was to get him there—fast. 

CHAPTER 12
     
    I sabelle’s sister approached with two cups of coffee, one in each hand, and gave her a curious look.  “Who were you on the phone with just now?”
    “Emmett.”
    “Mmmph.”
    “You can say it, you know.”
    Melanie sat down next to her and handed her a Styrofoam cup.  “I don’t see what good that would do at this point.”
    “Yeah, but I know you want to—so go ahead, lay in with all that sisterly psychic priestess stuff about how you knew Leo was wrong for me.”
    “Your husband, or ah, pretend husband is dead, and his name’s not Leo.”  She slouched back in her chair.  “It doesn’t matter how I feel about the whole thing, I know what you’re going through, so let’s forget it for now.” 
    Isabelle shook her head.  “No you don’t.”
    “What?”
    “Know what I’m going through.  How could you?” 
    “I didn’t take the time to bring you a cup of coffee so we could sit here and hash it all out.  We’re here for dad.”
    “If you let it go now, I’ll just hear about it later when you get mad at me for something else and then you’ll do what you always do: blow up and let it all spill out of your mouth until I’ve heard every lecture you’ve wanted to give me for the past five years.”
    Melanie offered up the silent treatment for a few minutes and then said, “Answer one question for me.”
    “What?”
    “When you woke up that morning in the hotel and realized what had happened to your—whatever his name is, what did you do?”
    “Why does it matter?”
    Melanie frowned.  “Answer the question.”
    “I called Emmett, so what?”
    “And today, after you got dad all checked in, what was the first thing you did?”
    Isabelle smirked.  “That’s two questions.”
    “Don’t be a smart ass.”
    “You