by Raci Ames
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
BLIND TRUST
First edition. November 15, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Raci Ames
ISBN: 978-1519976598
Written by Raci Ames
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
BEFORE
AFTER
BEGINNINGS
CHANGES
CONNECTIONS
REUNIONS
SUCCESSES
RELEASES
DISCOVERIES
TEARS
FOREVER
WOODLAND CREEK
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SAMPLE – RIDING HER UNICORN
This book is dedicated to all those who see with their hearts. And to anyone who's dared to begin again after losing everything.
BEFORE
Smoke. It was everywhere. He choked, unable to see through it at all. He sniffed, concentrating to find the direction that offered the cleanest air, and he ran through a line of fire to get out. The forest around the cave burned quickly. Roaring flames raced from tree to tree, using the wood for fuel and growing exponentially each minute. The red wolf put his head down and ran from the fire at top speed, but it followed him, and overtook him, going out of the woods to a small cottage in a clearing.
There it stopped moving, but kept growing. He drew in huge breaths easily, and studied the structure. At first sight it seemed abandoned. But more careful inspection revealed sleeping form.
He steeled himself to go in for the rescue. The fire was his fault, and he was trained to help. But in his current form he wouldn’t be able to get the person inside out quickly enough without hurting them. He heard the sirens of fire engines far in the distance. They were more than likely headed straight for the woods, and even if they weren’t getting to her before the building collapsed was unlikely. He howled loudly, and forced himself to shift for the first time in months. The bones in his legs expanded painfully, fur succumbed to skin and his face condensed into human form. He stood naked and shaky in the clearing, sweating from the heat consuming the small building. He couldn’t worry about clothes, there wasn’t even time to get steady on his feet. Tripping gracelessly he ran into the house just as flames engulfed the front door. They chased him to the back, to a bedroom where he found a woman in the bed. He ran towards, reaching out to scoop her from the bed, but just as he got her in his arms, the ceiling came crashing down and the combination of flames and oxygen crashed them to the floor.
• • • •
I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.
The voice penetrated her dream, heat licked at her limbs, and she reached out for him. Massive muscles flexed, drawing her in and igniting her insides from bone to skin. Thick auburn hair and green eyes she’d never seen before topped broad shoulders that wrapped around her. His features went in and out of clarity from the smoke that clouded the scene, and she focused on the details that she could see. Scars on an otherwise perfect torso, an eight pack of abs, led down where his pants should be, but weren’t. The man was completely, deliciously naked, and reaching for Pia.
She should have run screaming, but instead she burnt with a passion stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. He lifted her, and streaks of light exploded. Her body shook with sensation it was impossible to tell pleasure from pain. Bright silver lightening exploded in her brain, and then she couldn’t see anything. But she heard. Bright light burning from her core took over every cell in her body. Strong muscles clenched against her, drawing her close her skin exploded Pia tried to see though it, looking for any light at all. In the darkness, all she could do was hold on.
The roar and the heat increased and daggers spiked into her skull as they shot across the room.
“Just hold on to me,” the voice said. And Pia wanted to, more than anything, but she was in too much pain for her body to handle. And she passed out.
• • • •
She went limp inside his arms as a crash shook the small building. The hall outside her bedroom had collapsed and he needed to find another way out.
He grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped them both up in it, found a metal candlestick on the dresser, and carefully bashed the window. Glass exploded everywhere, slicing their skin in spite of his efforts to protect them both and he looked out, relieved to see it was less than one story to the ground.
He threw a leg across the window sill, said a little prayer to the saints he didn’t believe in and jumped into the cold. Rolling carefully, he landed so that she fell on top of him, and they rolled a bit, jarring his hip into the cold ground. She shivered in the frosty air but didn’t wake, even when he lifted her and moved them further from the house.
Help was coming down the driveway now, and he only needed two seconds to decide that he didn’t want to be seen when they arrived. He wrapped the robe and the blanket around her, made sure she was visible to first responders, and moved to where he wouldn’t be seen before shifting back into wolf form.
AFTER
The door opened without a knock, and Pia turned her face to the sound. Her parents didn’t dare to enter that way any more. Which could only mean one person. One person with Jasmine perfume and the ability to lighten the air and Pia’s very being just by coming in the room.
“It’s me. Jesus, Pia, it’s only been three weeks,” the short raven haired girl said, accepting the hug. Pia grabbed around her neck and hung on, and not for the first time, Cori recognized how different her friend was. In some ways, it was a good thing. Pia had always been so reserved, almost standoffish. They’d been friends long enough that Cori knew Pia held back because she was shy. But she also knew that it stopped her friend a little bit from fully enjoying life. That’s why Cori felt especially bad about the trauma from the fire. And that’s why she was going to do everything she could to help during the short time she had to help.
“I know. I’m just happy to see you, is all,” Pia said, catching herself on the words. Cori smiled sadly and tightened her grip. “You’re supposed to laugh,” Pia said, sighing when her joke fell flat.
“I did. Silently. I’ll do better next time,” Cori said, shocked at the difference in her friend during the short time she’d been gone. She sighed at the sight of Pia in the bed.
"I heard that," Pia said. And of course she had - her other senses were better since the incident but they didn't come close to making up for her eyes.
Pia felt Cori's disappointment. When they'd parted only a couple of weeks ago, Pia had been getting up and dressed and walking around for the better part of each day. Now she was mushed under the covers with a messy ponytail on top of her head.
She steeled her emotions and shut out the guilt that crept in after Cori had worked so hard to help her.
"I knew I shouldn't have left you alone," Cori said, steeling her voice and gripping Pia's shoulders tightly to stare. She choked on the words and when the hug came Pia felt moisture on her shirt from Cori's silent tears.
"Stop. I was never going to let you skip your trip to Europe. You work too hard for that."
"I could've gone some other time," Cori said, brushing a wisp of hair away from Pia's mouth. Dry lips and dry skin were yet another indication of how little the girl had taken care of herself.
"We've been over this. And besides, it's not like I was alone. I had the maid," Pia said wryly, just a few seconds before the referenced help came to collect the mug and plate by her bed.
"M' sorry ma'am," the woman whispered, apologizing for no reason.
"Pia. Please. Ma'am is for my mother."
"Y-y-yes Miss," the woman said, not changing tactics very much b
efore scrambling towards the door. “If it’s ok I’ll come by to clean in an hour," she said before heading out.
"Hey, no, she's supposed to be doing that for herself," Cori objected.
Pia laughed dryly and rolled her blind eyes. "Like that's going to happen. My mother won't tolerate the mess. And let's face it, I was helpless at housework, even when I could see."
"You need to learn it if you ever want to enough independence to move out," Cori said, looking around the room. Every surface was empty, identical, white. Cori wanted to think that Pia knew where everything was in her drawers, but she doubted it.
"Didn't the home transition team come and help get you set up?" Cori asked. She'd checked in at the center and they said that they had.
"Yes. But I broke too much crystal and china and mother dearest sent them off,” Pia said. Her mother had panicked over the smallest cut when Pia had tried to help clean up the mess and made the training staff from the Center for the Blind leave. Instead she'd bought every gadget they'd recommended and hired the maid instead.
"So buy plastic!" Cori said, knowing as well as Pia did that would never fly in the Matthews household.
"Yeah right. Can we forget about my mom for a few minutes? I get enough of her. Tell me everything about your trip instead," Pia said, working to keep the hopelessness out of her voice. Her mother didn't want to accept that Pia's condition was permanent, no matter what the doctors said. Neither did Pia, but in her heart she knew it was.
"I'll tell you everything. On a walk. But you need to shower first. C'mon, I'll help you," Cori said, standing up and helping Pia from the bed.
The first time Cori had helped Pia in the shower had been more than a little awkward. They'd been friends for years, going through college and medical school together. But that had gone beyond the comfort zone of their bond, for Pia at least. Cori was used to it, because she worked with blind patients at the Center for the Blind. Pia just brought them in. She gave up being a doctor after a horrifying ER residency up north. She'd taken time off, moved back to Woodland Creek, and gotten a job as an EMT. It was only supposed to be for a year, but Pia liked the work so much it had turned into three and she’d just decided to make it permanent, and had accepted a promotion before the fire ended her career. She missed the job, the adrenaline rush that came when she took care of people and got them out of crisis situations. But she was never going to be able to do it again. She couldn’t very well take care of anyone in an emergency when she couldn’t even take care of her own day to day needs.
“That better, yeah?” Cori asked, tucking Pia's arm in hers, and handing over the walking stick.
It did. When she'd been at the rehabilitation center, she'd learned to appreciate little things like being clean and going outside. She had to learn to do even the simplest things all over again, and had made excellent progress. But the weeks at home had been one massive backslide, leaving Pia depressed. Her parents led a high maintenance lifestyle as prominent residents in the town. Her father ran a lab for the college and her mother ran everything else. There wasn’t a single country club event or political dinner that they skipped, and they only spent time with other people who thought and dressed and acted just like they did.
Pia had gone reluctantly when it had been required of her before, but now she refused to participate. Now that she was blind, she worried that her parents narrow existence would become hers as well because couldn’t fend for herself.
"I need to get out of there," Pia said, working to find the door handle on her own, just to prove to Cori, and to herself that she could.
"Exactly. That's why we're going on a walk," Cori said, happier to see this side of Pia than the girl who'd been sulking in bed when she arrived.
"No. I need to be out of there for good. I had talked them into it just before the fire," Pia said sadly. She was twenty-six and far too old to be living in her parents house. Now that her work and her identity had been taken away, she needed something for herself, something more than a newly fixed up and professionally decorated guest suite.
All of her belongings, her clothes, her memories, had burned in the fire. Her mother had just knocked the cottage down before Pia even left the hospital. She knew how fortunate she was that materially, she needed nothing. But those were all just things, and mattered very little when she didn't have any kind of a life left.
"I still wake up choking on smoke. I can still smell it," Pia said, opening the door and taking in the warm air. "Getting away from it is the only reason I come outside anymore. “I know it’s only in my imagination, but I can still smell it all over the property.”
"We'll get you out of here. I'll figure it out," Cori said, silently promising to herself to make it happen.
Pia knew there were just a couple steps from her front door to her patio, and managed that on her own, taking refuge on the patio furniture when the rooms got to be too much. She'd even slept there a few times. But then there were more steps to deal with and those were harder for her.
"C'mon. Use the cane like we showed you," Cori said, adjusting Pia's grip and waiting until the tip was steady on the ground.
Pia moved her foot cautiously, navigating the flat surface. The second step sent her tumbling over the cane.
"God damnit! I hate this thing," Pia yelled, throwing the offensive stick on the ground.
"It's hard. You're learning how to walk again. But c'mon. Get up." Cori was sympathetic but not about to let her friend quit. "Try the stairs with your hands on the rails and just use your feet. There are five steps."
Before the fire, she would have said she could get around her parents property with her eyes closed. Now that she was blind, she knew that couldn’t be further from the truth.
She got down the first three steps just fine. But then misplaced her foot on the fourth one, falling forward in to a warm pile of fur.
"What? What the hell?" Pia yelled, heart beating twenty times faster than it should have been. She had expected to fall flat on her face but somehow she hadn't. She grabbed at the fur, but it moved beneath her, gently freeing itself and running away.
"Oh my god Pia. Are you ok???" Cori said, running down the stairs.
"Fine.” Pia rubbed at her wrist. That had been the only thing to hit ground. "Somehow. What even was that?" she asked, listening for footsteps and hearing nothing.
"I don't know. Some sort of dog, I think. It came out of nowhere. And then disappeared." Cori offered a hand to help her up and Pia grabbed it.
"A dog?" Pia asked, confused. They didn't have dogs on the property. Her parents hated animals of all kinds. “A big one. It was reddish, I think. It moved so fast I barely saw it." Cori grabbed her friends hand and investigated. "Just a scrape. You"re good. Let's go in a wash it off."
"No. I don't want to go inside right now. There's a sink by the garden. Let's go there, and then go for that walk. Clearly I need the practice," Pia managed to joke.
Cori smiled and grabbed her elbow, tucking their arms. "You worry about your feet. I'll take care of everything else. Like a guide dog," Cori said, giggling.
"I put myself on the list for one," Pia said, as they moved towards the garden.
"You did? I thought your mother said no way!” Cori cleaned the cut carefully, pleased to see there wasn't any blood under the dirt. A guide dog was just one of the many things she had fought with Mrs. Matthews about since Pia had gone blind. The woman’s response had been extreme and she refused to consider getting one.
"She did. I figured it might get me out of the house," Pia smirked. "Unfortunately it takes months to come up on the list. I even dropped your name. It didn't help," Pia said.
"Why would you think it would?" Cori said, winding around the path of roses just starting to bloom. The Matthews had won awards for them for generations.
"You work a the rehab center? You're a doctor? I don't know. I even made a donation. That didn't help either," Pia said, getting into the rhythm of Cori's step.
"And knowing you tha
t made you love the organization, and now you want one even more. Am I right?" Cori asked. "Garden or woods?"
"Woods. My running trail please," Pia said with a sigh. She hadn't been on it in months.
"You can run you know,” Cori said, taking them across the clearing and into the place where the trees split. She wasn't a runner like Pia but they'd hiked along the trail enough on visits before the fire.
"Yeah. On the treadmill," Pia said. "You know how much I hate that."
"It might be better than nothing," Cori said. “Or you could get a coach.
"But not better than a guide dog."
"True. There are some private facilities that I've heard about. I'll put out some feelers, see what I can do."
• • • •
The girl looked better. He knew that the friend hadn’t left her side for three days. So it had been three sleepless nights since that moment that he almost gave himself away. Three whole sunrises that he could still feel the ghosts of her fingers in his fur.
He had watched from afar as she sat sunning herself on the small deck. The frequency of the high pitched squeak of the swing hit the very back of his ears. It hurt, it would for hours afterwards. But still, he could not walk away. These short glimpses of her were what he lived for these days, especially moments like this when she was content. They were few and far between. Today he’d timed this particular pass with the arrival of her mother’s car. The unmistakable purr of the Jaguar reached him on the far side of their property where he’d made a small den.
Whenever her mother would come home and there would be shouting, and sometimes crying. That was the worst because it made him wonder if her life had been worth saving. Made him worry if she, like him, felt more despondent than hopeful, more raw than healed. He hadn’t been injured in the fire. Not permanently. His burns had healed but his hatred for his life had grown.
For the first week after the fire, he’d waited half-frozen in the woods by her house for her to come home. His bum hip made it impossible to hunt, and he thought about just staying put until he starved to death.
