The Sheriff Of Wickham Falls. Rochelle Alers

      Despite the discomfort in his thumb, Seth found that he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the sensual sway of her hips in the cotton pajama pants. He walked over to where she had parked her vehicle. The parking sticker from a Philadelphia medical center attached to the windshield with a caduceus verified she probably worked at a hospital. A hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. In that instant, having a medical professional as a neighbor was very convenient, otherwise he would have to wait for Dr. Henry Franklin to open his office or drive six miles to the county hospital.

      The pretty physician returned, this time wearing an oversize T-shirt with a faded University of Pennsylvania logo. So, he mused, she was an Ivy Leaguer, blessed with both beauty and brains. Seth hoped she hadn’t noticed him staring at her breasts. He did not want her to believe she had moved next door to a pervert.

      She sprayed his hand with an icy liquid, which miraculously alleviated the pain. “Now don’t forget to ice it.”

      Seth flexed his thumb. Smiling, he said, “How much do I owe you?”

      “Nothing, unless you wake me up again before seven in the morning with that annoying hammering.”

      Seth managed to look contrite. “I’m sorry about that. The kids who live on Woodfield Road hopped my fence and knocked over the birdhouse. I was attempting to repair it.”

      “You could’ve waited until later in the day to repair it,” she admonished in a quiet voice.

      He stared at her back as she turned and walked away. “What’s your name, miss?” he called out.

      She stopped, but did not turn around. “Dr. Hawkins.”

      “Thank you, Dr. Hawkins.” When she didn’t acknowledge his offer of gratitude as she entered her house, he muttered “you’re welcome” under his breath.

      Things usually moved at a snail’s pace in The Falls, but it was apparent it had only taken less than two weeks for him to get a new neighbor. And when Natalia identified herself as a doctor, Seth wondered if she was going to take over Dr. Franklin’s practice or join the staff at the county hospital.

      After walking back to his driveway, he picked up the birdhouse and rested it against the side of the house. He wanted to delay putting it up again until he spoke to the grandparents of the teenage boys who used his backyard as a shortcut. Recalling Dr. Hawkins’s recommendation that he apply ice to his thumb, Seth opened the side door and went inside to follow her instructions.

      * * *

      Natalia parked the SUV in front of the hardware store. Downtown Wickham Falls reminded her of many of the bucolic East coast towns that were settled when the States were still British colonies. Vehicles were parked diagonally to maximize space along the four-block-long business district. Both sides of the three blocks were lined with mom-and-pop shops, a local bank, a supermarket, the post office, the fire department and government buildings that included the town hall, courthouse, sheriff’s department and jail. Dr. Franklin’s medical office was a one-story building flanked by a law office and a barbershop.

      During her first trip to Wickham Falls in early March when she interviewed with Dr. Franklin, she had noticed there were no chain drugstores, big-box warehouses or fast-food restaurants. Not having easy access to delicatessens or coffee shops had her second-guessing whether she wanted to relocate to a town where she would have to get into her car and drive miles to find the nearest strip mall. It was only after contacting a local realtor and touring the town that Natalia was able to appreciate its quaint charm. It no longer mattered that railroad tracks dissected Main Street, or that there were only two stoplights: one in front of the fire department, and another near the school campus.

      The woman had shown her two vacant homes that were up for sale, but Natalia knew she wasn’t ready to purchase a house, and then she asked if there were any that she could rent perhaps with the option to buy after a year. And within minutes of walking into the one-story, refurbished, furnished home with stark-white walls and updated appliances, she knew it would suit her needs. The owner had secured a two-year post teaching English at a Japanese university and had decided to rent the house in lieu of selling it. He’d been gone a year, which now allowed Natalia the next twelve months to decide on a permanent residence.

      It was nine o’clock and the business district was waking up. Shopkeepers were sweeping and then hosing down sidewalks in front of their businesses. Natalia realized it would take her a while to get used to a lifestyle that seemed to move much slower than she was used to. She’d had to drive to a restaurant off the interstate for breakfast, because Ruthie’s, the local eating establishment, did not open to the public until eleven.

      She walked into Grand Hardware and saw a man who looked like a department store Santa Claus without the red suit. His bright blue eyes sparkled like polished blue topaz when he smiled.

      “Good morning, ma’am. How can I help you this morning?”

      Natalia returned his friendly smile with one of her own. “I need two gallons of high-quality latex, semigloss paint, several brushes and some rollers with extension poles, a pan and liners, tape and drop cloths.”

      The rotund middle-aged man with snow-white hair and a matching mustache and beard patted his belly over a bibbed apron. “What color are you looking for?”

      The kitchen was a stark-white, a shade she found much too sterile. “Let me see your paint samples.” It took her less than five minutes to select a color labeled Harbor Mist. It was a pale blue-gray, a shade that would complement the stainless-steel appliances and bleached pine cabinetry. “Do have paint that can cover stains?”

      “That means you need one with a primer. It will eliminate you applying more than one coat.”

      Forty minutes after walking into the hardware store, Natalia had selected everything she needed to give the kitchen a new coat of paint, while Johnnie Lee Grand talked nonstop about the preparations for the town’s upcoming Memorial Day parade until he left her to wait on another customer.

      She loaded her purchases in the cargo area of her SUV, and then drove down the street to the supermarket. An hour later, the shopping cart was nearly overflowing with items to stock the pantry and the refrigerator-freezer. Natalia generously tipped the young man who bagged and stacked the bags neatly in her vehicle. She was more than impressed with the selection of fresh meat and poultry in the butcher department. She could not remember the last time she would have structured her work hours where she would be able to come home and prepare dinner for herself. Natalia rarely ate fast food, and the hospital’s cafeteria menu, although deemed nutritious, rarely varied from day to day.

      The downtown area was bustling with activity when she left the supermarket and headed back to the house. It was May 1, and while winter was just loosening it brutal grip on Philadelphia, spring was in full bloom in southeastern West Virginia. The daytime temperature was in the low seventies, trees had put forth their leaves as did flowering plants their colorful yield. The cacophony of bird chatter as they flitted from branch to branch had become music to Natalia’s ears.

      I think I’m really going to like living in Wickham Falls, she mused as she maneuvered into the driveway to the house on Stewart Avenue. Most of the homes along the street sat on one-square-acre parcels that were larger than those in other areas of the town. And of all of the houses on the avenue, the one she occupied was the smallest.

      She’d just exited the SUV when she saw her neighbor sitting on his porch. “How’s the thumb?”

      He rose and leaned over the porch railing. “It’s still swollen, so I’m taking your advice and icing it.”

      Natalia smiled. “That’s good.”

      “Do you need help unloading your car?”

      She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

      “I think you do,” he countered when she set several bags on the ground.

      “I’m really good here.” Her protestations were ignored when he came down off the porch and stood next to