I hope all of you had an amazing Christmas! Southern Comfort is a available! Come and enjoy the first chapter:

Chapter 1

BLINKING HIS SIGHTLESS EYES, CARL Warner held his girlfriend’s elbow in a firm grip. The fluffy plush carpet sunk around his leather shoes, while aromas of lobster and shrimp drifted through the air, enticing him with an alluring spicy scent. The appealing cadence of Leslie’s voice made his heart skip as she conversed with someone, verifying his dinner reservation. Walking further into the restaurant, his shin collided into a short hard object.

“Ouch!” He dropped her arm, rubbing his knee.

“Sorry.” Leslie gripped his shoulder. “I forgot to tell you we’re at your reserved table. Your chair is in front of you. Are you alright?”

“I’m okay.” He pulled the chair out, his leg still throbbing with pain. The seat creaked beneath his weight as he sat. He wanted to be a gentleman and pull out Leslie’s chair, but because of his blindness, he knew it would be easier for her to do herself.

He pushed his dark glasses up on his nose. The murmur of the other patrons created a warm, soothing atmosphere. Fingering the cotton tablecloth, he swallowed, gathering his courage for one of the most important events in his life. Feeling vibrations on the floor from an approaching person, he presumed their server was arriving. Footsteps sounded behind them then stopped. “Hi, I’m Alex, your server this evening.” His voice droned on, reciting their specials for the day.

Carl cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Do you have a Braille menu?”

“I’ll check.” The retreating shuffle of Alex’s footsteps diminished as he left to get a menu.

He focused on the familiar plunk of Leslie’s purse hitting the floor and her nails tapping against the tabletop. He tried to soothe his frazzled nerves. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “Leslie, why don’t you sit to my left? I don’t like it when you sit on the other side of the table.”

The dull noise signaled Leslie’s chair sliding across the carpet and the clatter of silverware indicated she’d moved the items closer to Carl. She then plopped back into her chair, now sitting beside him. The sweet jasmine smell of her perfume reminded him of a refreshing burst of energy. “There, is that better?”

He sighed. “Much better.” He reached toward her and felt the laminated menu that she clutched in her soft hands. “What would you like to eat tonight, dear?”

“I’m not sure. Carl, this place is so expensive. Are you sure you want to eat here tonight? People usually come here when they’re celebrating a special occasion.” Her voice held a twinge of…something when she told her opinion.

He took her hand, caressed her skin, relishing the smooth polish on her fingernails. He pressed his lips to her palm and his heart beat accelerated. The heavy thud of footsteps indicated their server had returned, placing the Braille menu into Carl’s hand. “Uh, thanks,” he whispered. He continued to grasp her palm with his left hand while touching his right fingertips lightly over the bumpy white paper.

“Carl, why did you take me to this fancy restaurant?”

He stopped reading the menu, sensing her looking toward him. He heard her scooting closer, her long straight hair brushed his arm. He reached into his pocket and fingered the velvet box before finally removing the small square container. “I’d wanted to wait until after dinner to ask you this, but I can’t put this off any longer.” He held the box toward her and heard her exhale, accepting the item. “Leslie, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Silence enveloped them. A bead of sweat trickled down his back. He wiped his damp hands on his cotton slacks, tapping his foot. Leslie’s muted sobs surrounded the table. Hoping she cried tears of joy, he stroked the wetness from her face. “Honey, don’t cry. Please say you’ll be my wife.” She pushed his hand away and blew her nose, snorting through whatever she was using to wipe her nose. He wondered why it was taking her so long to answer.

“Oh, Carl.” She sniffed. She then pressed the box back into his palm. “Oh, Carl. The ring is so beautiful, and I wish I could keep it.”

“But…” He knew the beginnings of rejection when he heard it.

“But, I just can’t accept your gift. I’m sorry.”

Tears slid down his cheeks. He wiped the salty wetness from his eyes, relieved he sported his dark glasses. Another thought occurred to him. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn’t falter. “Why don’t you take the ring and think about it for a couple of days? I love you Leslie, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Her long hair brushed his forearm again, and he sensed she shook her head. “I can’t return your feelings. I’m sorry.”

He took her hand, clutching her soft fingers. “I know you must care for me. We’ve been spending so much time together. Why are you acting so strange?”

“I can’t marry you, and that’s final.” She removed her hand from his.

“Why?”

She inhaled and squeezed his bicep. “I can’t marry a blind man. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be burdened with that responsibility.”

Her words knocked the wind out of his lungs. “I’m not a responsibility,” Carl muttered. He clutched the tablecloth and the scent of warm, yeasty rolls and fresh butter surrounded him.

“Here’s your bread,” Alex announced. Carl’s stomach churned, and he wondered if he would be strong enough to survive eating dinner with her. “Have you decided what you would like to order?”

Carl shook his head, turning toward the server. “We still need a few more minutes.” He waited until the footsteps faded before turning toward Leslie, still clutching the velvet box. Sweat rolled down his face. “I need some air.” He stood, unfolded his cane, and walked toward the exit, praying he wouldn’t bump into a waiter or another diner.

“Carl, wait, let me help you.” Leslie’s long stringy hair irritated his skin. The silky strands brushed his arm when she leaned toward him, her flower-scented perfume overpowering his senses.

“I don’t need your help!” Pushing her hand away, he tried to find his way to the lobby. When his foot stepped onto the solid wooden floor, he knew he had reached his destination. He squeezed his tear-filled eyes shut, issuing a plea to God, hoping he would be able to make it home before he lost his mind.

“Sir, did you need some help?” A young male voice asked, and he assumed it was one of the restaurant’s employees.

Carl balled his hands into fists. “I need a ride home. Could you call me a cab, please?” Normally, he’d call the cab himself but, he was just too upset to do that now.

“Sure.”

“Could you let me know when you see the car outside?”

“No problem.”

On second thought, he didn’t want to wait inside. He really needed to get some fresh air. “Can you help me find the door? I’d rather wait outside.”

“Sir, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Looks like we’re about to have a big rainstorm. Maybe you should sit in here. I’ll let you know when your ride comes.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care. I want to wait outside.”

Bony fingers clutched Carl’s elbow, leading him outdoors. Echoes of thunder tumbled from the sky, and the scent of impending rain filled the air. The young man led Carl for a few seconds before stopping. “There’s a bench right in front of you. Are you sure you want to wait out here?”

He nodded, sitting, barely paying the boy any attention. Soon, heavy drops of rain splattered onto his face, cooling his heated skin. He clutched his cane, turning his head toward the heavens, wondering what people would think about seeing a thirty-five-year-old weeping blind man. He screamed, his lungs filling with moist air, while rain mingled with his tears.