Holiday Confessions. Anne Marie Winston
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just graduated from the training school two weeks ago.”
“Oh, my,” she said, clearly taken aback. “I assumed you’d worked together much longer than that.”
He smiled. “He’s a good dog. And having worked with one dog helps. When you get your first dog, both of you have to learn everything together. Speaking of which, where is Feather?” He stretched his hand down to his right side where he’d been trying to teach her to lie, but she wasn’t there.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lynne said. “I was petting her. Isn’t that allowed?”
“No, it’s fine unless a dog is working,” he said. “She’s probably enjoying the attention. Since I retired her and got Cedar, she’s been getting more and more depressed.”
“How can you tell?”
He shrugged. “She’s not eating well. Sniffs her food and turns away. And she just seems kind of…lackluster. Dull. She used to be bouncy and her tail was always wagging. I could always tell because her whole body vibrates from the back end forward when that tail’s going.”
“It sounds funny to think of a dog suffering from depression, but I suppose it makes sense. Did you say you two worked together for eight years?”
“Yes. She just had her tenth birthday.” He sighed. “I’m starting to think I should have let her go. A lot of times the original families who raised them as puppies will take them back again, but if not, the school has a waiting list of families who will adopt a retired guide.”
“How could you give her up, though, after all that time together?”
She understood. Warmth spread through him. “Exactly. It’s not easy for a blind person like me who lives alone to care for two dogs, but I just couldn’t send her away. She’s a part of my family.”
“I can imagine,” Lynne murmured. “I don’t think I could do it, either.” Her voice changed as she bent over and addressed his dog. “You’re a beautiful girl, yes, you are. With a beautiful name.” She laughed in delight.
“Let me guess. She rolled over on her back and has conned you into rubbing her belly.”
“Oh, so you’re a belly-rub slut,” she said to the dog. “It’s disappointing to hear that you’ll do this for anybody.”
He chuckled. “In a big way.” He fondled Cedar’s ears as a comfortable silence stretched.
“I apologize for grilling you,” Lynne said. “You probably get really sick of people asking you questions about your dog or being blind.”
He shrugged. “You get used to it. It drove me crazy the first year or so, but it comes with the territory.”
“So you haven’t always been blind.” It was more a statement than a question. “I thought from some of your mannerisms that you had been able to see once.”
“I was sighted until I was twenty-one. While I was in college, I fell over a balcony railing at a frat party and landed mostly on my head.”
“Holy cow. You’re lucky you survived.”
He nodded. “Very.”
“A frat party,” she said reflectively. “I never went to college. Are those as wild and debauched as I’ve heard?”
He grinned. “I’ve been to a few that fit that description. But I hadn’t been drinking that night. A guy behind me tripped, and it was just sheer lousy luck that he plowed into me.”
“No kidding,” she said with feeling. “Did you know right away that you were blind?”
“Not right away.” He hesitated as the memories of those early days in the hospital welled up. Kendra had been with him when he’d asked the doctor about his vision.
“Let’s change the subject,” Lynne said. “I think it’s your turn to ask the questions.”
He realized he’d been silent too long, and he mentally smacked himself. He really was out of touch with socializing. Entertaining clients was a lot different from dating. Even if this wasn’t really a date. “Sorry. It brings back a lot of memories. It was…a time of enormous change for me.”
“I can imagine,” she murmured.
He decided to take her up on her offer. “What kind of work do you do?”
He felt a subtle change in the room, a tension that surprised him. He’d expected that to be a fairly safe question.
“I’m not working right now,” she said. “But I have a couple of interviews this week, so I’m hoping to have an answer to that question soon.”
“Okay,” he said. She’d probably just lost a job, and since that often happened under difficult circumstances even to the best of people, she might feel embarrassed or humiliated. “Let me rephrase that. What kind of work would you like to do?”
“My interviews are at a preschool and at an elementary school as an aide,” she responded. “But what I’d really like to do is go to college and learn to teach.”
“What age would you prefer?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I enjoy little kids, but I honestly don’t know enough about older children or teens to know whether or not I’d also like those age groups. Hence the job choices.”
“So you haven’t worked with children in the past?”
“No.” He heard her stand. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Iced tea?” he asked.
“I happen to have some. Sugar or lemon?”
“Just lemon, please.” He listened to the pad of her feet across the room and into what sounded like her kitchen, judging from the tile floor onto which she walked. Her place appeared to be laid out just like his, except with the floor plan reversed. The jingle of Feather’s tags alerted him that she had followed Lynne.
Was it his imagination or had his hostess become uncomfortable the moment he’d asked about her past? She’d leaped into action right after that, and she certainly hadn’t volunteered any information about what she’d been doing before she moved to Gettysburg.
He heard the clink of ice cubes, and a minute later Lynne returned with his tea.
“Is there anyplace in particular you would like me to put this?” she asked.
“Is there a table near me?”
“There’s an end table on the right side of your chair.”
“You can set it down there.”
He heard her moving toward him, and as the glass settled on the table, a whiff of clean, womanly fragrance enveloped him. She was close.
How tall was she? He thought she was probably pretty tall for a woman because her voice didn’t sound as if it was coming from miles below him when she was facing him.
“There,” she said. “It’s toward the front of the table on the corner closest to you.”
He reached out and lightly followed the lip of the table forward until his hand encountered the cool, smooth glass. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Dinner will be ready in a little bit. I played it safe and baked a chicken.”
“I like baked chicken. Any potatoes?” he asked hopefully.
“Also baked. Double-stuffed.”
“The kind with sour cream and cheese all mashed up with the potato and then put back in the shell?”
She laughed. “The skin, not the shell.”
“Whatever.” He dismissed semantics. “Sounds great, especially to someone who eats most of his food out