The Widows of Wichita County

November 7

Clifton Creek Elementary

Meredith did not allow herself to think about what had happened until midafternoon the next day. She got up late and rushed to get to school before the students. Her tardiness was easily explained away by the weather. Then, from the moment she entered her classroom, she was too busy to think of anything but her job.

Finally, when the students were all wrapped in wool and sent home, she sat behind her cluttered desk and stared out at the snow swirling across the playground equipment. She had never done anything in her life as crazy as what she did last night with the sheriff. She hoped people would not see it on her face. She would not have been surprised if the school billboard had announced her affair, instead of next Tuesday's PTA meeting. It should have said something like Second-Grade Teacher Has Wild Night With Town Sheriff. Details To Follow.

People do not just go around bumping into one another and making love. Or at least until last night, she never thought they did. She had never even had a conversation longer than a few sentences with the man, and last night she had let him touch her all over.

At the thought, Meredith blushed. All over, she repeated in her mind.

She had wanted to lose all control, or maybe hand it over to someone else for a change. That must have been her plan, only she could not remember thinking it. And he certainly took control, leaving her free to float. She got what she asked for, but more than she had known to expect.

She put her head in her hands. Nothing made sense. What if he told someone? Gossip like this would spread so fast. They would be pointed at, talked about in whispers, joked about.

Meredith reconsidered. Of course, he would never tell anyone. They were not in high school.

The vision of Granger sitting around the Pancake House with all the old farmers swapping stories made her laugh.

Ridiculous, she thought. People have affairs all the time.

Affair.

Her forehead hit the desk. This was not an affair.

Oh, God, it was a one-night stand. She had been a onenight stand. She thumped her head once more on the desk, thinking it was too late for her to do any brain damage. One night too late.

"Meredith?"

She jumped, almost toppling out of her swivel chair.

Granger stood at her door with his hat in his hand. If possible, he looked as confused as she felt. "I noticed your car was the only one left in the lot. I stopped by to make sure you weren't having trouble getting it started."

He took a step into the room and appeared even taller than usual with the small desks scattered around him. His hair was damp with snow, and from the dark lines under his eyes, he had clearly not slept for some time. He was the kind of handsome no twenty-year-old could be, gray salting his short, curly hair and not an ounce of fat on the man.

Meredith fought to keep from giving her head one more rap against the desk. Here he was checking on her, making sure her car would start, and she was staring at him thinking about-no remembering-details about his body.

"I'm leaving." She stood and hurried to her closet, thinking she was almost always the last one in the building since the principal's wife had had twins last spring. Granger had never stopped by before.

He waited just inside the doorway, looking nervous and out of place.

She gathered her things, trying to think of something to say. Finally, when they were walking down the hallway, she asked, "Are the roads bad?"

"Not too," he answered. "I'll follow you home if you like."

"No. I'll be fine." She felt she should call him Sheriff Famngton again. How could it have only been hours ago when she had called him Granger? She did not even know how old he was. Five years older than she? Ten? No, he could not be ten. Not with that body. Maybe three or five.

Meredith wrapped her scarf around her throat. The way her thoughts were running she might never be able to speak to the man again.

He must have been in the same fix, for he did not say anything as he took her arm and helped her along the slippery sidewalk to her car. He waited until the Mustang started, then knelt beside the open car door.

"I was thinking," he said slowly. "Maybe we shouldn't see one another for a while."

She just stared at him for a long moment, waiting for him to say more… letting his words soak in… wishing she had misunderstood… knowing she had not.

"All right." She wanted him to move so she could close her door and get away. But he just stood there as if they were making small talk.

"You understand? I don't want there to be any talk about us."

"Of course," she lied.

He touched the brim of his hat, pulling it lower as though the weather had suddenly grown colder.

"Evenin', Mrs. Allen." He moved away.

"Evenin', Sheriff." Her words traveled on frost. She shoved her car into gear, realizing he had done it again. He had taken control. This time to end whatever there might have been between them.

When the rigs went up fitted with multicables climbing to the tower, men were always aloft. A single cable ran from the highest point on the rig and was tied to the ground several feet away from the base of the rig. If an accident happened, the man up top would lace his gloved fingers over the emergency cable and ride to safety.