so closely with her, he didn’t notice her decline?”
“I don’t know. The doctor came out to see Mom, at Irma’s request. They got her to the hospital, did all kinds of tests. She had terminal breast cancer.”
“I’m sorry, Zeke,” Dena said softly.
He swallowed hard at the tenderness in her voice. “She was going through the final stages of…you know, the change—”
“Menopause?”
“Yeah. She was only fifty-six when she died. From what I understand, everyone thought she was depressed.”
Dena tilted her head to one side. “A lot of women have emotional changes in menopause. But, did your mother have a depressive personality?”
Zeke thought back to his youth. “No, at least not when I was growing up. She was always a beautiful looking woman, young for her years, energetic. She’d become reclusive in the last few years of her life. Maybe she hated getting older.”
“Mothers are difficult to understand sometimes,” Dena said, and patted his hand.
He could see the wheels turning in Dena’s mind. Even in this short time of knowing her he understood how her inquisitive mind worked. He’d questioned himself, thinking his mother might have been running away from something, or someone. Was she guilt ridden and chose death over life? Was she being blackmailed? That could explain financial losses.
“Did your Mom have relationships after your father died?”
“Huh?” Zeke’s eyes shot wide open. “No, she wasn’t interested—”
“But she was so young. Not even a casual date?”
Zeke shook his head again.
“What about when she went to social events? I read she used to be very active in the community.”
“She’d go alone, or with Rocky, or women friends.”
“I’m so sorry, Zeke,” Dena said, and leaned forward. “I know this is painful for you to talk about, but sometimes it helps.”
She watched his face, but he couldn’t meet her gaze. He should have been more of a presence in his mother’s life.
“You can’t feel guilty, and blame yourself, for not knowing something your mother chose not to tell anyone,” she said softly.
He looked across the table, surprised at her words. Her face was set in a serious contemplative gaze. Damn. She’s a mind reader.
He turned away and stared out the window into the darkness. Could he have known? He’d asked himself a million times why he hadn’t commented on his mother’s weight loss at her last birthday dinner. That was a comment a good son would have made, surely? He looked back at Dena.
“I really don’t want to talk about it anymore—”
“I know,” Dena said. “I do understand, and thanks for sharing this much. I’m going to go to my room—”
“Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you. Good night.”
She stood, gave him a smile, then fled. Not that he could blame her.
Chapter Eight
Back in the guest room, Dena changed out of her long skirt and silk blouse, and slipped on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. She grimaced at the pains she’d taken to look nice for Zeke. How much she’d looked forward to dining alone with him.
It was barely eight in the evening when she hurried across the back verandah, and she figured it would still be warm out. A walk would be fabulous. Her body needed the exercise, and her mind the peace and quiet. Almost at the pool, she stopped, looked around, and figured she’d explore the lake and focus on the dinner conversation while it was still fresh. Maybe she’d discover that clue she was convinced was buried in Zeke’s words.
She shivered in the cool night air, gripped both arms tight to her chest, ducked her head, and ran back to the hacienda and up the verandah steps. She almost collided with Zeke as he strode out the back door.
“Oh,” he said, and grabbed her arm to steady her. He released his grip, and stared in the direction of the stables, his mouth set in a stern line. “I’m taking José for a run…think over what Quimby said.”
“That’s nice.” She hesitated a moment, and then frowned. “Do horses like to go out when it’s dark?”
He looked down at her. “They see well at night.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.” She shivered, and gripped her upper arms. “I’m going for a walk, but had to come back for a jacket. It’s freezing.”
“It’s the desert.”
She tried not to laugh, although she had to bite the inside of her cheek. He was no talker. It was obvious tonight’s emotional conversation had left him spent. He probably needed the physical release of a good hard ride as much as she needed to