Shades of Desire by Virna Depaul Page B

up trying to find clues in the farmers’ market photos, getting to sleep had taken longer than usual. She’d spent an hour trying to remember details from that day, but they were pathetically few and hardly anything worth breaking into her house for. She’d finally been too exhausted to think of anything else, so she’d gone to sleep, but not before choosing her outfit for today—about five different times.
    When she’d first started losing her vision, she’d paid a personal shopper, not just to buy her clothes, but to organize them by color. Even so, she had an electronic color detector and used it before leaving the house—just in case. She kept her wardrobe simple, with fewer options, but with multiples of the same things. Even at home, she always changed after eating. Always. She couldn’t bear the thought of food stains down her shirt. Outwardly, at least, she would remain the same, even if inwardly she never would be.
    One person who disagreed with her was Bonnie, the adaptive specialist who worked with her once a week on increasing her living skills. She’d been the one to recommend the personal shopper and household reorganization, she’d arranged for a tutor to begin teaching Natalie Braille, and she constantly counseled Natalie that she was the same person she’d always been. “Sure, your life has changed, but believe it or not, you can still jump out of planes, Natalie. Plenty of blind people have done tandem parachuting. You can start with that. Eventually.”
    Eventually. There was the rub. Bonnie’s confidence that Natalie could live a fulfilling life was conditional in many ways on keeping her caged in. For now. To Bonnie, the world was a traumatic place for someone still adapting to a disability. It was far better to isolate oneself for months—even years—until you felt confident in every aspect of your home life before venturing outside it.
    She hadn’t told Bonnie what her plans were for today, not wanting the other woman to try and talk her out of them. No, despite her prior fears, she’d actually been looking forward to venturing outside the corners of her home and yard. To walking, chin held high, past a bunch of cops. To coming face-to-face with Agent McKenzie, proving to him she was more than the bitchy, defensive woman he’d met days before. She was competent. Independent. Strong.
    Standing on the curb waiting for Melissa, she no longer felt that way. And as unfair as it might turn out to be, her friend’s failure to show today seemed to be yet another betrayal.
    She lived in a quaint neighborhood but one that bisected a main street with a lot of car and foot traffic. People consistently detoured past her house in order to reach the small bakery down the block. She’d once enjoyed how peaceful it was in the mornings, but how alive it became later in the evening. Since she’d traveled so much, she’d barely known her neighbors. It didn’t surprise her that none of them bothered to talk to her now. Still, every time she heard voices nearing, she tensed. Part of it was the same old self-consciousness, anticipation of how they would react at seeing her cane, but the other part of it was unease. It was hard to feel safe knowing someone, anyone, could come at you before you sensed them.
    Which was silly, of course. It was broad daylight, and no one except one man wanted to hurt her. And it wasn’t as if he’d attack her in full view of the world.
    With a sigh, she checked her watch, confirmed it was five minutes to noon and, even though she had her cell phone in her pocket, made the slow walk inside. It was unseasonably warm weather, so she downed a glass of iced tea—as much to waste time as to hydrate her body, she knew—then forced herself to call Agent McKenzie. He answered his phone right away, his voice edged with impatience.
    “McKenzie.”
    Fool that she was, her pulse immediately spiked as she recalled his touch. His scent. The compassion in his voice when he’d asked