had the nightmare again. No, not a nightmare, but rather a tormenting replay of the horror she’d endured. And, as always, she’d sought the safety of the nearest closet.
When would this end? Would her life—would she ever be normal again?
Embarrassment battled with overwhelming despair as he guided her out of the small confines and into the bedroom. “How did you know I was in there?” she asked. With a tinge of reluctance, she pulled her hand from his.
“You screamed.”
“I’m sorry. I was asleep. It was a nightmare.” She crossed her arms in front of her and hugged her shoulders with her hands. “I guess Keller didn’t warn you about my nightmares.”
“Keller didn’t tell me much about anything,” he said dryly. “Are you all right?”
She released a sigh. “Embarrassed. Mortified, but yes, I’m all right.”
“No need to be embarrassed,” Jesse said in an obvious attempt to comfort. “Everyone has nightmares at one time or another.”
She said nothing, but she wanted to say that not everyone had nightmares that drove them into the deepest recess of a closet.
“If you’re hungry, I’ve got some dinner ready in the kitchen,” he said.
Dinner. The normalcy of it further comforted her. “That sounds good. I’d just like to freshen up a bit.”
“Sure. I’ll just wait in the living room for you, then take you to the kitchen.” She nodded. She hated this dependency, she thought as Jesse left her alone at the bathroom door. A moment later she splashed water over her face and stared at the place where she knew a mirror probably hung over the sink.
Staring with all the concentration she could attain, she tried to force herself to see. A glimmer of light. A pale strand of illumination.
She desperately wanted to see something…anything. But the blackness that had become her world remained impenetrable.
It was as if she’d swallowed whole the darkness of night, and the tenebrous shades of black not only resided in her, but had become the sum being of her.
Odd, that even in complete darkness, while asleep and in the throes of a nightmare and in a strange house, she had found the closet.
Had she fumbled her way to the enclosure that comforted her? Or had her sight momentarily returned while she’d dreamed, allowing her to find the closet where she could hide and feel safe?
Turning away from the sink, she felt around until her hands touched the terry cloth of a towel. She dried her face and hands, then left the bathroom. Carefully maneuvering out the door and down the hallway, she headed toward the living room. She stifled a gasp as a hand touched her elbow.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Jesse said.
“It’s all right. It’s just disconcerting to be touched when you can’t see who is doing the touching.” She relaxed and allowed him to guide her through the living room. She knew they’d entered the kitchen when the carpet beneath her feet turned into tile.
“I hope you like hamburgers,” Jesse said as he led her to a chair at the table.
“Hamburgers are fine,” she assured him. She touched the edge of her plate, the handle of a fork to orient herself.
“Mustard or ketchup?” Jesse asked.
“A little mustard, please.” She heard the squirt of a bottle, then sensed him placing the burger on her 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
