Sinfandel by Gina Cresse Page B

power I held in my hands.  It scared the hell out of me.  I was afraid I’d never have the courage to fire it in a life-threatening situation—and at the same time, terrified that I would.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Ten
     
     
    A ndy was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive back home.  He kept glancing over at me as if he wanted to ask a question, but something stopped him. 
    “What?” I finally asked.
    He squinted, clenched his jaw a couple times, then smiled.  “Nothing.”
    “Did I do something wrong with the gun?”
    He shook his head.
    “Spinach in my teeth?”  I noticed a black smudge on his right cheek.  “Gunpowder on my face?  What?”
    “Okay.  I just wondered why you didn’t have your boyfriend show you how to use the shotgun.”
    “What boyfriend?”
    “The cop.”
    “Detective Obermeyer?”
    “Yeah.  He opposed to you protecting yourself or something?”
    Watching Andy’s profile as he drove, I thought back to the morning he had knocked on my door and saw Obermeyer eating breakfast, and me in my robe.  At the time, I didn’t care that he got the wrong idea because he was so irritating, but now…  “He’s not my boyfriend.”
    He studied my face like he was looking for any hint I might be lying.  “No?”
    “No.  You misunderstood.”
    Another five minutes of silence, then Andy looked over and smiled.  “Hungry?”
     
    The place we stopped to eat wasn’t very busy since it was still early.  We were seated in a booth next to a window with a view of the river.  The greenish-blue water was low and not moving very fast, and a line of willow trees grew along the opposite bank, leaning over the river as if the long draping branches were trying to touch the surface.  A pair of Mallard ducks paddled close to the shore and every so often one of them would dunk its head under the water and leave its rear end bobbing like a buoy as it latched on to some unlucky fish.  Flitting just above the surface, a shiny blue dragonfly hunted for its lunch.
    While we waited for our sandwiches, my conscience finally nagged me enough that I pointed toward Andy’s right cheek.  “You have a smudge there.” 
    Wiping the side of his face with a napkin, he said, “Did I get it?”
    After a brief inspection, I nodded.  “Yeah.  Must’ve been gunpowder.”
    “Thanks for telling me.  I hate walking around like a Bozo.”
    We exchanged a warm glance and it seemed like we were finally on the road to being nice to each other.  We talked about the grape harvest progress and were just moving on to the subject of horses when the waitress brought our food.
    “I better go wash my hands,” I said, then got up and glanced around for the restroom.
    “Down the hall, on your right,” the waitress said, pointing over my shoulder.
    As I walked away, I heard Andy tell the waitress he’d left something in his truck and would be right back.  The restroom was at the end of a long hallway.  I pushed through the heavy door and passed a woman with a small child as they came out.
    The little girl pointed at me and said, “Look, Mommy.”
    “Shhh.” her mother said, and smiled at me as they left.
    When I stepped in front of the mirror, I realized what she was pointing at—the end of my nose was black with a gunpowder smudge.  I looked like a Cocker Spaniel.  “Two can play this game,” I said under my breath as I scrubbed my nose clean.  The fact that the two of us had played the game and he was just better at it annoyed me more than the embarrassment.
    When I returned to the table, my hands and face freshly washed, Andy smiled.
    As I slid into the booth, I smiled back.  “The next time you get sprayed by a mad skunk, don’t come knocking on my door.”
    Without saying a word, he placed a gift on the table in front of me.  “Peace offering.”
    I recognized it from the day he’d seen Detective Obermeyer at my breakfast table.  It must’ve been riding around in his truck ever