LITMIR.BIZ

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guidance.

      “We’re at the door.” Heather had stopped.

      “Okay. So the next step is in.” He wondered if she was as nervous as he was. He drifted back on the memory of Cheyenne in Vegas and standing next to her at the altar. They’d both had sweaty palms, and he’d felt her tremble.

      He hadn’t thought about it much, but it took a lot of desperation for a person to hitch themself to another person that way. Maybe they’d both been a little desperate.

      “Here we go.” Heather stepped away from him and pushed the door open.

      “Right. Here we go.” Before stepping through the door, he had another question. “Is Trish in there?”

      “Staring. About to head this way.”

      “Point me in the right direction.”

      She did, and he walked away from his sister because she would run interference with Trish. The cane swung, hit metal. He reached and touched the end of the rack. Candy. Mints. Gum. He’d been here enough times in his life that he knew what each aisle held—unless Trish had remodeled, and she never had before.

      “Reese Cooper, how are you?” Trish called out from behind him, loud, as if it was his hearing that had been lost.

      He considered shouting back. Instead he smiled, picked up a plastic container of mints and turned toward the counter. “I’m great, Trish. How are you?”

      “Really good. And it is so good to see you out and about.” She continued to talk loud and clear.

      “It’s good to be out.”

      Trish pushed buttons on the cash register. “That’ll be a dollar.”

      He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, felt the bills and handed the appropriate one to Trish. “One dollar.”

      “Well, now that’s pretty amazing.” Trish spoke with such admiration he couldn’t be mad. “How’d you know this is a dollar?”

      “It’s a new skill I’ve learned. Thanks, Trish.” He pocketed the mints and walked out of the store. Heather followed.

      “Do you want to walk across the street or drive?” She pulled him to a stop. “We’re at the edge of the sidewalk.”

      Reese nodded. “We can walk.”

      He had to stop stalling and face Cheyenne.

      “Fine. Let’s go.”

      A car honked. He stepped back. Heather reached for his arm. She took a step forward, and he followed her lead.

      “Okay, we’re across.” Heather stopped, and he stopped with her when the cane hit the curb.

      “What’s all the hammering?”

      “Roofers. Gran said this old building needed some help.”

      “This has been going on for the past few days, and you all thought I wouldn’t find out? Because secrets are so easy to keep in Dawson.”

      “A woman we don’t know, a pregnant woman, showed up in Dawson looking for you. That kind of puts us all on the defensive.”

      “The baby isn’t mine, and she isn’t after anything.”

      He loved it when the Coopers circled the wagons. But now wasn’t the time for wagons to be circled. True, he didn’t know Cheyenne much better than the rest of them, but he knew she wasn’t there to use him. He knew because he had come to know her through the letters she’d sent while he was in Afghanistan. He knew.

      Heather sighed and stepped forward. “One step up and we’re on the sidewalk.”

      “Trust me.” He leaned close to her. “I’m a big boy.”

      “I know you are. But who is she to you? That’s all we really want to know.”

      If he knew, he’d probably tell her. At the moment, he didn’t know who Cheyenne was to him. He knew what the paper said. He knew the plan, but somehow it had changed.

      Reese reached, touched the door and turned toward his sister. “I can take it from here.”

      “Reese, we’re trying to...”

      “I’m good.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Heather didn’t follow him. He smiled, because he knew he could count on her. She’d give him time. She’d wait for him. He took cautious steps forward, the cane swinging right to left. It hit a chair. He stopped to listen.

      Then he heard a thump against the back wall.

      “Cheyenne?” He took more careful steps.

      Silence—and then the hammering he’d heard from across the street. It echoed inside the building. At the back of the room he heard footsteps. He smiled and laughed a little.

      “I know it’s you.”

      “Okay, it’s me.” The voice, soft and tremulous, drew closer. “What are you doing here?”

      “I could ask you the same question. Funny thing, my family all seemed to know you were here. I’m the only one in the dark, so to speak.” He smiled and reached, finding a chair. He sat down. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit.”

      “Go right ahead.”

      “You’re still in town.” He folded the cane. “I thought you left.”

      “I thought I would leave, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. I was sitting on the bench out front when your grandmother found me.”

      “Be very careful of my grandmother. She loves matchmaking. It’s her gift.” He smiled and turned, trying to find her. She had moved. He heard soft footsteps getting closer.

      “I’m not here to be matched to anyone. I’m here because I needed to know that you’re okay.”

      “There’s more. I can hear it in your voice.”

      “That’s your imagination.” She sat down next to him, lavender and vanilla. He leaned a little toward her because he couldn’t see her and he wanted some connection with her, some way to know she was there.

      “No, it isn’t my imagination. I’m very good at voices. It’s because I can’t see. They say it enhances the other senses.”

      “Really, and what does my voice tell you?”

      “I hear strain. And you hesitate each time you tell me you’re fine. See. I’m very perceptive.”

      “I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I just don’t want you to think that I came here expecting more from you than you’ve already given me.”

      “I want to help if I can.” He reached for her hand.

      “You’ve helped so much, Reese.” She squeezed his hand. “You don’t owe me anything else.”

      He stood because she had. “I have to disagree, Cheyenne. I think I owe you for better or worse, in sickness and in health.”

      “Those are vows for real couples who have real weddings. That isn’t your promise to me. Your promise to me was your last name and life insurance if something happened to you. Because of you I have insurance and I had money for school.”

      “What do you know? Something did happen to me.”

      “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked, and he felt like the creep Heather sometimes said he’d become. “I’m sorry that something horrible happened to you. But I’m going to have a baby. I don’t have a family I can turn to. And I want to stay here.”

      “Cheyenne, you don’t have to leave.” He reached, found her hand and pulled her close, but she wouldn’t step into his arms.

      “I have to make a life for myself and my son. I want to be somewhere safe. I want a community. A neighborhood

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