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well,” Jasper said.
    “You need a hand?”
    There was nothing she would have liked better, but she felt much too embarrassed to accept help from this stranger. This strange man. This handsome stranger.
    “No. I’m good. I think. Ouch.” Jasper shifted uncomfortably on the fence. She tried to get her shoe free. She just about had it out when her hem caught on one of the strands of metal.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “I’m good. Really.” Jasper wriggled her left foot free of the cemetery side of the fence, balanced again, and had nearly gotten her outside leg cleared when she completely lost her balance and tumbled down to the grass outside the fence. She felt the back side of her skirt rip. The man hurried over and helped her to her feet.
    “Ah, you might want to tie your sweater around your waist,” he said. “Sorry I don’t have a jacket to offer you.”
    “Th-thank you. I think.”
    “You do this a lot?”
    Jasper stared at his solemn face which cracked into a wide friendly grin. She smiled back. “My first time. I’m new to the neighborhood.” She hoped the nice man would go away soon before her deep intrinsic shame – shame on general principles – rose to the surface along with the blush she was already showing.
    “Oh. Are you the new lady in the two-family?”
    She nodded.
    “Word travels. Or at least Mrs. O’Neal’s words do. I’m Glenn Relerford. Two houses down.”
    “I’m Jasper. Jasper Biggs.” They walked together back toward their block of Hickory Lane. “But weren’t you taking a walk?” she asked.
    He smiled easily before he answered. “I was just finishing when I saw your dilemma and I just couldn’t leave you stuck up on that fence all night.”
    She thanked him. They chatted amiably, and Glenn told her about the neighborhood. She was relieved to hear she wasn’t the only singleton. Although he didn’t say whether or not he had a family, he mentioned several other neighbors on their own. He wasn’t wearing a wedding band.
    There was a Mrs. Beyer, a banker’s widow, and Ginny Gardener, the widow of a doctor. These were older ladies, Jasper knew, who had defined themselves for many years as the wives of important professional men. She felt glad to know she was breaking free of her role as Mrs. Rowe, the minister’s wife. She would never be the minister’s widow. She gulped and rubbed her skinny wedding ring. “I’m sorry. Did you ask me something?” They paused on the sidewalk in front of 320 Hickory.
    Glenn nodded toward the downstairs picture window. “Good ol’ Mrs. O’Neil. She’s having the time of her life right now,” he said. “’That new girl is talking to the black policeman,’” he said in falsetto.
    “You’re what?”
    “I’m black,” he said with a straight face.
    Jasper laughed nervously. “No, the other part.”
    “I’m a police detective. You look startled. Should I be worried about you?”
    “Okay. I was in the cemetery a little late. But that’s why I was climbing the fence.”
    He stood silently.
    Guiltily, Jasper continued. “That’s why I was climbing the fence. To get out faster.”
    Glenn remained silent.
    “Well, okay, here’s the thing. I was just plain tired. You know? And, to tell the truth, I was just taking a short cut home.” She shifted from one foot to the other. She checked out the curtains on the ground floor picture window. Sure enough. They fluttered.
    “Uh-huh. You were saying,” Glenn said.
    “Am I in trouble?”
    “Well, let’s see. After hours occupation of cemetery. Possibly disturbing the peace of a bunch of dead folks. Fence climbing.”
    Jasper actually found herself sweating.
    Glenn burst out laughing. “Hey, I think that Forest Grove can overlook these minor infractions, Mrs. Ex-Minister’s Wife.”
    “What?” That wave of tiredness she’d felt earlier washed back over her. She took a step away from Glenn.
    “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he offered.
    “I guess I better get used to my