Mistress of the Game

He’s family now. He’s one of us. Paolo and I will protect him.

When Robbie walked through the door of the farmhouse arm in arm with Gabe, Lexi fainted. When she came to, tucked up in bed in one of the guest rooms, she had a lump on her head the size of a duck egg.

“Sorry.” Her voice was hoarse. “I think I must be more exhausted than I realized. I thought I saw Gabe. It was so real! As if he were standing right next to you. Do you think I need a psychiatrist?”

“Unquestionably.” Robbie grinned. “But not because you’re seeing things. It turns out our friend Gabriel isn’t quite as dead as we all thought he was.”

“Hi, Lex.”

An old-man version of Gabe appeared at Lexi’s bedside.

She promptly passed out again.

It was a full twenty-four hours before it sank in that Gabe was not only alive, but here, at Robbie’s house, with her. While Lexi came to terms with reality, Gabe washed, ate and slept for the first time in weeks. By nightfall, the story had leaked into the media that Gabriel McGregor was back from the dead. It took the press about a minute and a half to discover his whereabouts. Luckily, Robbie and Paolo’s estate was completely hidden from prying lenses, set back behind a long driveway and surrounded by an impenetrable wall of trees. Paolo persuaded the local police to place a ban on low-flying helicopters. Once they realized there was no picture to be had, the paparazzi reluctantly slunk back to Cape Town, pitching camp instead outside Phoenix’s offices. Gabe couldn’t hide out with Robbie Templeton forever. Eventually he’d have to surface, and when he did, they’d be waiting.

For the first week, Gabe slept eighteen hours of every twenty-four. At mealtimes he ate well but in silence, exchanging occasional grateful smiles with Robbie and Paolo. He barely looked at Lexi.

A doctor was called. He gave Gabe a clean bill of health. Not wanting to risk any more press leaks, Robbie contacted his godfather in New York, Barney Hunt, and asked him to fly out and examine Gabe.

“I’d say he’s in good shape mentally,” said Barney, “considering the magnitude of the trauma he’s just been through. He’s allowing himself to recover.”

“But he barely speaks,” Robbie protested. “He won’t say where he’s been all this time. He hasn’t mentioned Tara or his children once. If I get one ‘pass the pepper, please,’ that’s a good day.”

“He’ll talk when he’s ready. How about Lexi? How’s she doing?”

It seemed like an odd non sequitur. “Lexi? She’s okay, I guess. Mad as a box of frogs, obsessing about Kruger-Brent as always, but what’s new. She came out here to relax, which I took as a good sign.”

“And is she? Relaxing?”

“Gabe showing up kind of threw her. I don’t know. She’s been out of the house a lot. Riding. Do you think I should be worried?”

“No, no.” Barney Hunt smiled reassuringly. “I’m fond of your sister, that’s all. I care about you both. As does your father.”

Robbie stiffened. It had been years since he’d seen Peter. Their estrangement now was as wide and deep as it had ever been.

“I’ve got enough on my plate right now with Gabe and Lexi,” he said defensively.

“I understand,” said Barney. “Just remember, your father is not going to live forever. Gabe has years to work through what he’s feeling. So does Lexi. But you and Peter…”

“Thanks, Barney. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

The conversation was closed.

Lexi lay in bed, unable to sleep. In two days’ time, she would head back to New York. Back to reality. The vacation with Robbie was supposed to have cleared her head. But she felt more confused than ever.

Gabe was alive. That was a good thing. Obviously. So why did his presence in the house make her feel so…so what? There was no word for it. Lexi and Gabe moved past each other like ghost ships on a hopeless sea. Sometimes Lexi felt him watching her. Almost as if he were waiting for her to say something. But say what?

Sorry I don’t know how to talk to you? Sorry your wife and kids got their throats cut? I’m glad you’re alive, but I wish you’d get the hell out of my brother’s house?

At other times, she sensed hostility in his gaze. He felt something for me on that safari years ago, and we both know it. Does he blame me for that? Do I make him feel guilty?

Lexi didn’t understand Gabe’s passivity. If she were in his shoes, she would be filled with bloodlust. She would think of nothing but wreaking terrible, righteous revenge on those who had slain her family. But Gabe showed no anger. No hatred. Lexi couldn’t understand it.

She looked at her bedside clock. Four A.M. Her mind was racing. There was no hope of sleep. Hauling herself wearily out of bed, she pulled a bathrobe over the old pair of Robbie’s pajamas she was wearing and tiptoed downstairs. Maybe a cup of warm milk would help.

“What are you doing here?”

Lexi jumped a mile.

“Jesus, Gabe. You scared me.”

Gabe was lurking in the half shadow, his face eerily illuminated by the first pale rays of dawn sunlight.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Welcome to my world. You know, when Collette was born, we got no sleep for a year. Tara and I would fantasize about how great it would be to wake up late on Sunday mornings. Now I can wake up as late as I like. But I never make it past dawn. Never.”

“I’m sorry.”

God, it was so inadequate. What a small, useless little word. Like firing a water pistol into a volcano.