“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 falling in love with a blind woman, but a crazy one, as well.”
There was another long pause. “Self-pity isn’t very becoming.”
His words hung in the air for a long moment, and for that singular moment, she couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity to accuse her of self-pity. What did he know about her life, about her?
Anger, swift and self-righteous, suddenly filled her. She stood, allowing the anger free reign. “How dare you!” she exclaimed. She glared in the direction she thought he stood. “You aren’t the one who has lost everything. You have no idea what I’ve been through…what I’m continuing to go through.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was overreacting, that her anger far exceeded the offense, but it was an anger that had been building inside her since the night her world had exploded apart through inexplicable violence and gut-wrenching terror.
She couldn’t corral the anger now that it had been set free. It was much easier to finally give in to it, to allow it to consume her.
“You have your nice life in a nice town,” she said, her voice strident. “I’ve lost my family, my career and my sight. Excuse me if I drift momentarily into self-pity. I think I’ve earned the right. However, if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take it into my room.”
She desperately wanted to make a dramatic, graceful exit, but as she swept away from the table, she crashed into the corner with her hip, then bumped into the doorway.
Thankfully Jesse didn’t reach out to help her, as if instinctively knowing she needed to leave under her own steam, even if she were black and blue by the time she reached her room.
Jesse winced as he heard her bump into the coffee table, then bang into the end table. A moment later he heard the slam of her bedroom door.
He released a sigh, and worried his hair with a sweep of his hand. He was sorry for his thoughtless words. But he had a feeling she didn’t want to hear an apology at the moment.
Her family. She’d said she’d lost her family. A husband? Children? He remembered vividly his mother’s grief when his father had died, a grief so debilitating, it had eventually stolen her will to live.
It was the memory of that grief that had induced Jesse to decide he’d prefer to live his life forever alone than to risk experiencing a loss so enormous. Love began with such promise, but always ended in heartache.
As he worked to clean up the dinner mess, his mind went over what little information she’d given him, provoking more questions than answers.
She was right about one thing: he didn’t know what had happened to her, and he had no right to judge or censure her.
He finished cleaning the kitchen and went into the living room. His usual routine was to turn on the television and relax until
