dropped. Maybe some committee will pick it back up in the spring.”
Travis sat up straighter. “Anyone ever tell you that the town square is a triangle?”
“Nope,” the deputy answered too quickly to be telling the truth.
Travis had a feeling Cline had heard the question one too many times. He was doing like folks do to anyone too young to vote when they don’t want to answer a question. Kind of like parents do when the world falls apart and they tell you you’re lucky. Yeah, Travis thought, he was real lucky. Mom was half dead, Dad would probably never get out of jail this time, and he had to go live with three crazy old uncles not even one woman thought worth marrying.
Three weeks to Christmas and all he wanted was a bus ticket out of his life.
WES WHITMAN WATCHED Maria Anne Davis move silently back and forth from the farm pickup parked just outside the side door to her display in his general store.
Every Wednesday she restocked the shelves with Davis Delightful Jams and Jellies, and every Wednesday he kept an eye on her from ten feet away. Standing ready to step in and help if needed, but never smothering her.
The small woman couldn’t be much into her thirties, and there was a calculated grace about her movements. She counted her steps, touched familiar points along her path, made sure everything was in place before she carried in each crate. Maria Anne Davis might be blind, but she used her other senses and her brain.
Watching her move was poetry in motion, he thought, and then laughed at himself for being almost romantic.
Wes made sure everything was exactly the same as it had been the week before. Nothing was ever in the aisle to block her path. In the silence of the early morning, she stocked and he watched.
She might be petite, but she was strong. She always dressed in jeans and a blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Nothing fancy. Never showy. But pretty, just the same, with her long hair tied back at the base of her neck and the dark curls drifting down to her waist.
At first he’d tried too hard to help, then he realized Maria Anne didn’t need any help. She needed to be alone in the stillness of the dawn hours before any customers came in.
If he left her to her work, the shelves would be stocked, all the labels facing forward, all in order.
Every week he tried to talk to her. He liked her shy ways and the grace in her slender movements. He’d probably like her voice, too, if he ever heard it in more than a whisper. She was too shy, too beautiful for the likes of him. Folks said if she hadn’t been blinded in a car wreck five years ago, she would have been a great chef in Dallas now.
She’d never be interested in him, no matter how hard he tried. Nothing would ever be between them but a business relationship.
He had to be content to stand back and watch her, never getting in her way, never talking too much for fear of distracting her. Now and then over the years, he’d offered to help her and she always shook her head and whispered no. But if he just stood and waited, she’d eventually finish, turn in his direction and say his name.
He’d step forward and offer his arm.
Maria’s small hand would glide across the air until she brushed his starched shirt. Then, with her fingers resting on his arm, he’d direct her to his office, where they’d settle up for last week’s sales.
Wes knew she could have found her way to his office without trouble but they both seemed to like this simple ritual each week. In an odd way he felt almost like a knight escorting a lady fair.
He suspected, after more than four years, he still frightened her, but had no idea why. After all, the only person shier than her was him.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” he said as they walked the ten feet to his office.
Nodding, she added, “Almost Christmas.”
“That rain the weatherman promised for next week might turn to snow, and we could have a white Christmas.”
She smiled and he decided he was an idiot. A white Christmas to a blind person wouldn’t matter. It would just bring cold.
He opened his office door and she stepped inside, gliding her fingertips over the boxes that lined the left wall. He made sure they were always there, always the same height so she could find her chair in front of his desk without trouble.
Maria always sat on the edge of her chair, waiting for him to write her check. Then she’d touch the corner of her cell, number 3 on her speed dial to call her sister, and say simply, “I’m ready.”
Their fingers might touch as he passed her the check, but nothing more personal.
She’d whisper a thank-you and stand.
He’d follow her out, but on the return journey she didn’t take his arm. She knew the way. The touch-points where she brushed a display or let her hand slide along the glass doors of his frozen foods section were all she needed.
She would hurry away as if he were a stranger and not someone she knew. Her sister, Dakota, would be waiting for her just outside.
Wes usually followed Maria out the side door. He’d watch as she climbed in the old pickup. He’d wave as her sister, Dakota, backed up. Maria’s window would pass within a few feet of him. She’d often be turned as if looking right at him, but she never saw him wave at her. She had no idea he was there.
He wished Maria had an ounce of her sister’s confidence. It was hard to believe they came from the same parents. Dakota was as outgoing as Maria Anne was quiet. She ran the town’s only real estate office half a block down the street from his store.
He’d figured out that Maria wanted to stock the shelf herself, so Dakota would walk over to her office to open up and check emails, then drive Maria home when she called to say she was finished.
Only today, Maria had finished early, and she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave his office. She’d made no effort to pull her phone from her pocket to call her sister.
Watching her as she perched on the edge of her chair, he asked, “Got time for a cup of coffee?” The words were out before he thought.
To his surprise, she smiled. “I’d like that.”
He didn’t miss that she checked her watch with a brush of her finger. She’d probably stay a minute or two, no more, but it seemed a gift just the same.
Wes thought of saying that he wasn’t likely to attack Maria Davis, or anyone else for that matter. The only weapon he’d ever handled was a broom. Owners of grocery stores usually didn’t show up on wanted posters in the post office.
Maybe she still thought of him as an outsider. After all, he’d only lived in Crossroads for seven years. She’d been living in Dallas when he moved to town, so he’d never known her before her accident. Small-town people are sometimes slow to accept strangers, and maybe her being blind made it harder still.
But Wes sat across the aisle from her in church every Sunday and they sometimes ate at the same cafeteria table during the potluck suppers for singles. That didn’t exactly make them friends, he guessed.
He set a cup of coffee down in front of her but didn’t move around to his desk.
“We sold out of the apple jelly last week,” he said, proud of himself for thinking of some way to start the conversation. “With Christmas coming, you might want to think about restocking on Saturday, or you could leave a case and I’ll take care of it.”
“I will.” Her slim fingers brushed the heavy mug and circled the handle. “I could wrap a few gift baskets. They’d be expensive, but people might buy them as Christmas gifts.”
“It wouldn’t hurt. Last-minute shoppers are