The Perils of Peaches (Scents of Murder Book 3) by Lynette Sowell Page B

The question flew from my mouth.
    “Ironically, one of Hiram’s old colleagues is a professor where I attended medical school. Recently my name came up in a conversation and Hiram found out what happened. Hence our go-round at Oat Grass. He accused me of hiding information from him.”
    Jerry nodded. “I can figure out the rest. But Andi’s right. Getting a lawyer is a wise idea. You do that, and come down to the station and tell me the rest of the story tomorrow.” He looked at his hand, still holding Barkha’s, and pulled away.
    Barkha closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I can just imagine what you all must think of me. What I was about to do . . .”
    “We don’t hate you, and we sure don’t think less of you. How long ago did this happen?” I asked.
    “At little over five years ago.”
    “And you’ve been carrying this around since then?”
    Barkha frowned and looked at me. “It’s followed me here. I know God forgave me for my sins. I left Hinduism and chose Him instead, just over two years ago. But I wish I could forget . . . In the past, I’d have done something good to make up for it, to get things to even out, to avoid any problems in the future. My mother was always warning us kids about the next life. Karma, you know. Although, technically speaking, I never bought that test.”
    I touched her shoulder. “You did the right thing by walking away.”
    “I know I did the right thing. But Hiram said—”
    “Hush, now.” Jerry’s voice held a gentle tone. “We can talk about that tomorrow. It’ll keep. Let’s just enjoy tonight.”
    A tear crept down Barkha’s tawny cheek and she dashed it away. “Thanks. It’s good to have friends.”
    “Well, we’re here for you, aren’t we, guys?” I’d never seen this side of Barkha before. She’d always been bright, upbeat, pleasant. Efficient as a physician, and carrying a load she didn’t have to. At church she asked eager questions in Bible study, and never let on about her inner struggle.
    After that I broke out the dessert, which helped to lighten the mood, at least for Ben and Jerry. They took their strawberry shortcake to the living room. Jerry gave Barkha a long look before he left the kitchen, as if he’d rather stay with us. He really must have it bad if he’d consider giving up watching a baseball game to sit in the kitchen with us ladies.
    Barkha took a bite of her dessert. “This is absolutely delicious. I’m a big fan of comfort food.”
    “Thanks. I half-learned from the best. My pound cake isn’t made from scratch like Momma’s, but the strawberries don’t seem to mind much. And I actually whipped the cream myself.” I thought about giving Hannah a cookie too, but she still chewed on her bunny’s ear and kicked at some blocks in her playpen. “You know, you did the right thing, talking to Jerry.”
    “I can’t believe how relieved I am at telling Jerry about what happened.” She stared over at our stove, but I didn’t think her focus was on the stainless steel..
    “What is it?”
    “I miss my mother’s cooking. All of us would gather once a week at my parents’ home. My brother, sister, and I. Plus their spouses and children. My father didn’t want us to move far from them.”
    “You sound homesick.”
    “Not so much anymore. I do miss my family, but they don’t understand. They don’t accept who I am now. I’m the same, but I’m different too.” She gestured with her fork, then placed it on the table.
    “What about Tushar?”
    Barkha frowned. “He thinks I’ll go back to Atlanta, that this is a personal crisis I need to work through. But I can’t.”
    “Is he still around town? I haven’t seen him since Friday.”
    “Oh, he’s around. We met for coffee last night.”
    “You met him for coffee? What were you thinking?”
    “Honestly, it’s not like he’s a stalker.” Barkha nibbled her dessert. “I had to hear him out. Tushar knew about what happened in medical school,