LITMIR.BIZ

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plate. “Thank you.”

      “Chips?” he offered.

      “Sure,” she agreed, just wanting to get the meal over and done with. Eating was one of the many things that had become sheer torture since she’d lost her sight. Finger food had become her friend.

      Within minutes they were eating, the meal accompanied by the strained silence of strangers who weren’t quite sure what to say to each other.

      “So, tell me about Mustang, Montana,” she said in an effort to break the uncomfortable silence.

      “There isn’t a lot to tell. Small town, slow pace, good people. It’s a great place to grow up and a great place to grow old.”

      “You love it here,” she observed. She’d heard the warmth in his voice as he spoke of the town.

      “I do,” he agreed. “Mustang is a small town with a big heart. I left for four years to go to college, then went on to the police academy, but my heart never really ever left.”

      “That’s nice,” she said. “Do you have family here?”

      The moment the question left her lips, the despair of her loss echoed within her heart.

      Never again would she be able to share with her sister the laughter or the tears that life so often contained. Never again would she know the comfort of a sisterly hug.

      “No, no family. My father died three years ago in a car accident and my mother passed away seven months later. The doctors said it was heart failure, but I’ll always believe it was a broken heart.”

      He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed by the personal disclosure. “Actually, even though I have no blood family here, everyone in Mustang acts like they’re family. Everyone knows everyone else’s business, and if you have a problem of any kind, somebody is always ready with advice.”

      “If everyone knows everyone else’s business, then I guess it would be smart for us to know our business,” she said.

      “You’re talking about our cover story.”

      She nodded and chewed a chip thoughtfully. “I really hate to tell people we met while camping because I know absolutely nothing about it.”

      “You’ve really never been on a camp out? Didn’t you ever sleep in the backyard with friends or go to Girl Scout camp?”

      She heard the incredulity in his voice. “No outdoor sleepovers, no Girl Scouts. The closest I’ve ever come to camping out was when my sister and I made a tent in our bedroom and pretended we were wilderness guides.”

      The memory brought with it a glow of happiness as she remembered that night. She and Alicia had fashioned a tent from the top of their dresser to the top of their bed. They’d spent hours making shadow animals on the ceiling with the aid of a flashlight.

      They’d eaten an entire package of cookies while making up scary stories to entertain each other. Their mother had grounded them the next morning when she’d seen the mess they had made, but the night’s adventure had been worth the punishment.

      The warmth of the memory battled with the coldness of loss, creating a whirlwind of grief to whip through her.

      “Cecilia?” Jesse pulled her from the memory.

      “We can tell everyone we met camping,” she said, suddenly changing her mind. “We can tell them I was camping with my sister and you were at the site next to ours. I don’t think anyone will really ask me about the actual camping experience, do you?”

      “I sincerely doubt it.” She heard the crunch as he ate a potato chip, then he continued. “And we’ll tell everyone that since that time we’ve been burning up the phone lines.”

      She nodded. “Then it’s official. You now have a girlfriend.” She finished the last bite of her hamburger, then gazed across to where she knew he sat. “Will people think it odd that you fell in love with a blind woman?”

      “People will find it odd that I’m in love with anyone.”

      Again she heard a smile in his voice. “Why is that?” she asked curiously.

      “I’ve been the elusive bachelor of Mustang for a long time now. Mothers try to set me up with their daughters, aunts corner me in stores and tell me about the charms of their nieces.”

      “You must be very good-looking,” she observed.

      The smile she’d heard in his voice turned into full-blown laughter. He had a wonderful laugh. Deep and resonant, it brought with it a wealth of warmth that fluttered inside her, momentarily banishing the frozen tears that had encased her heart.

      “No, not particularly good-looking,” he replied. “Just one of the few young, available bachelors in town. Besides, you know what they say about women and men in uniform.”

      Men in uniform. Suddenly her body went cold. John and Alicia had worn the blue uniforms of the Templeton Police Department.

      They had loved working law enforcement in the small Chicago suburb. Uniforms with badges. Symbols of safety. And yet the thought of those badges and dark blue outfits evoked dreadful disquiet. Forcefully she shoved away thoughts of her last family.

      Instead she focused on the man across from her, the man she could smell, could sense, but couldn’t see. “How old are you?” she asked.

      “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it wasn’t polite to ask somebody their age?” There was a soft, teasing lilt to his tone.

      “My mother taught me that if you want to know something, ask.”

      “Smart woman, your mother. I’m almost thirty.”

      “Why haven’t you married and started a family? I thought people in small towns married young.”

      “Relationships have always seemed too complicated and difficult to maintain. I love my job, I like my home. That’s always been enough for me.”

      She smiled. “No wonder you’re considered a catch. There’s nothing like the challenge of a confirmed bachelor to whet the appetite of single women.”

      “Speaking of appetites, would you like another hamburger?”

      “No, thanks. I’m fine.” She heard his chair scoot back and knew he’d gotten up from the table. “I’m sorry I can’t help with the cleanup. Dishes that feel clean don’t always look clean.”

      “Don’t worry about it.”

      “It’s not real.” The words fell from her mouth without any warning.

      “Excuse me?”

      “My blindness. It’s not real.”

      There was a long moment of silence. “What do you mean? Are you faking your blindness?” She heard the bewilderment in his voice.

      “No, the blindness is real, but there’s no physical reason for it. It’s psychosomatic. Hysterical blindness is what the doctors call it.” She couldn’t help the anger that sharpened her tone.

      She was sorry she’d brought it up. The whole thing made her feel weak, stupid and crazy. And now he would think she was weak, stupid and crazy.

      “This happened at the same time as whatever happened that put you in protective custody?” he asked softly.

      She nodded. “I’ve been blind for a month. The doctors say my sight could return at any time.” They’d also said it was possible it might never return, but she refused to consider that possibility.

      He remained silent and she continued. “I just thought you should know. I haven’t had time to adjust much, so I’m not what you’d consider a high-functioning blind person.” She couldn’t help the bitterness, the slight ache of the unfairness of it all that colored her voice. “But we won’t tell your friends that not only did you have the misfortune of

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