I first met Katrina Delchamps in November of 2005, when she walked into my automobile dealership, looking for work. She walked on a pair of crutches, but the way she carried herself left a huge impression on me. She was on crutches because she had broken her legs (plus her pelvis) and was recovering from major surgery. She had broken her legs and pelvis in a hurricane that slammed into Louisiana like a freight train. Miraculously, she survived, and she'd come to Tennessee "to leave all the hurt behind" (as she so eloquently put it).

It didn't matter to me that she was on crutches: what mattered more was her willingness to work, to learn a new skill. I hired her on the spot.

Katrina proved to be a very  hardworking woman who wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. She walked to my store each day in all kinds of weather: sun or rain, snow or sleet, hot or cold, foggy or clear, even during thunderstorms. I or one of "my boys" would offer to give Katrina a ride to work, but she always declined. She wanted the exercise, she said, and she'd rather walk. It turned out she didn't live far from her job, so she was able to walk to work, even on crutches (or a cane, or later on, unassisted).

Katrina (or "Kat", as she preferred to be called) was a beautiful racially-mixed woman with short, spiky brick-red hair, big, luminous green eyes, and lovely cafe-au-lait colored skin. She spoke with a French-Louisiana accent, and she was rather quiet, almost to the point of being shy.

As I got to know Katrina better, it didn't take long for me to realize I was falling in love with her. Ever since the passing of my wife, Bonnie, several years earlier (Bonnie and I shared 25 wonderful years of wedded bliss together; she'd died of cancer), I'd promised my heart I would never fall in love again; yet, when I saw Katrina Delchamps, I knew immediately that she was the one for me. In fact, the love I felt for her was so powerful I was afraid my heart would spring right out of  my chest.

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During the first  half of 2006, Katrina and I shared many good times together. We went to Mexico and Alaska on a cruise, she met my parents (and brother Hyman), she met my circle of friends; everyone who met her fell in love with her. She proved to be a dynamic cook, whipping up fantastic Louisiana dishes, and it was on her gumbo or shrimp etouffee' that I grew fat around the middle (which prompted me to start jogging again after many years of inactivity [thanks, in part, to the medical needs of my wife; she was more important at the time]).

She continued to walk to work, even with repeated offers of a lift. Each time we offered, she politely declined, which worried me. I was scared she would get mugged, hurt, or worse. In July of 2006, my worst fears were realized when a drunken driver plowed into her back, instantly breaking it. When I'd heard the news of Kat's accident, I rushed to the hospital, afraid of the outcome.

~End of part four.~