Home Before Dark
Page 30
“You must be Tim,” Jessie said, getting up from the sofa where she had been waiting with all the clammy-handed anxiety of a teenager on her first date.
“Wow, you’re a knockout.” At least the wonder in his voice was flattering. “Grace said so, but I thought she might have been exaggerating.”
She put out her hand and he took it, apparently assuming she wanted him to drag her somewhere. She laughed and pulled away. “That’s some handshake. I like that in a man.”
She could feel him checking her out. She could feel his relief at the prospect that she didn’t look like a freak. Recalling Patrick’s comment this morning, she composed a mental picture of Tim Hurley. He looked remarkably like Joseph Fiennes.
“You have a nice smile,” he said.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, she thought. She signaled to Flambeau, and the dog came to attention. She sensed the dog checking out the man, too, and to her surprise, she realized Flambeau was indifferent to him. It was something Jessie knew, like knowing it was going to rain by the smell of the air.
Tim exploded with a terrific sneeze.
“Bless you,” she said.
“I’m allergic to dogs.” He hesitated. “Grace didn’t tell me you had a dog. I mean, I should have assumed, but…” He let his voice trail off, then sneezed.
Jessie weighed her options. He was giving her the perfect out, if she chose to take it. But no. It was time to get away, attend the symphony, eat a shrimp cocktail and have a normal conversation that wasn’t about closet organizing or avoiding low-hanging obstacles or training your dog not to be distracted by garbage on the sidewalk. It was time to be a woman who happened to be blind rather than merely a blind woman.
“Flambeau doesn’t have to come,” she said. She could feel the dog deflate beside her. All the way back to the apartment, she reminded both herself and her dog that there were times when they couldn’t be together. Dealing with temporary separation had been part of their training, too.
She used a cane to make her way back to the lobby. Getting a whiff of his Stetson cologne, she felt a dart of surprise. “Still here? I gave you the perfect opportunity to escape.”
“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he said. She could hear a bit of congestion in his voice. “I mean, if it’s okay with you to go without the dog.”
“It’s okay. Unless you’re allergic to canes.”
Tim gave it his best shot. He offered her his arm and moved along slowly, and he kept asking her if she was all right, if she needed anything. He made hesitant, polite inquiries, as though afraid to offend her. She knew it wasn’t fair, but she kept comparing him to Dusty on every level, from his height and the scent of his skin to the way he dealt with her. Tim checked with her about everything. Dusty went for what he wanted. There was something so sexy about the way he had blazed into her life and swept her into his own. He’d hypnotized her with his absolute certainty that, not only did he want her, but he intended to have her. And furthermore, she was going to like it. Of course, Dusty hadn’t known the truth about her. That made all the difference.
Pushing aside those thoughts, she accompanied him into the concert hall. Once seated, she gave herself over to the music, an exuberant celebration of American composers. But at the gala reception for subscribers, Tim fell into a conversation with a fellow programmer about something called PERL, and it didn’t take Jessie long to contemplate the entertainment value of listening to paint dry. When the programmer offered to introduce Tim to an associate, he politely asked if she’d be all right on her own for a few minutes.
She gratefully assented and remained standing by a refreshment table that smelled of garlic chicken wings and strong cheese. She stood for several minutes, absorbing snippets of other people’s conversations and trying to figure out how to find the ladies’ room. One couple kept trying to reach the baby-sitter on a cell phone only to find the line busy. A woman smelling of Joy and Jack Daniel’s walked unsteadily past in stiletto heels. A young boy declared the food “barfy” and whined that he was bored. His mother made an apologetic sound in Jessie’s direction, and Jessie favored her with an understanding smile.
“Could I ask for your help getting to the ladies’ room?” Jessie asked.
Silence. Damn. The woman had gone already, leaving Jessie to speak to the empty air. She really had to go. I hate this, thought Jessie. I hate my life. I hate everything.
She felt stripped down to nothing. She had no dog, no escort. She’d foolishly left her cane in Tim’s car.
“Everything all right, ma’am?” asked a male voice.
The sweet drawl sounded so much like Dusty that, for a moment, hope sang in her veins. But she quickly realized she was projecting an impossible wish onto a stranger. “You bet.”
“You look like you could use this.” A champagne flute found its way into her hand. He didn’t sound like Dusty after all. His voice was more nasal and affected, a Kappa Alpha fraternity twang.
Jessie curved her mouth into a dismissive smile. Her back teeth were floating. She really ought to ask the guy to escort her to the bathroom, but angry pride got in the way. Sometimes she was so good at acting as though she were sighted that people didn’t notice. “Thanks.”
“What’s a pretty lady like you doing here all alone?”
She favored him with a smile. “Trying to stay that way.”
Sharp intake of breath. Clearly Frat Boy was used to getting what he wanted. “With that attitude, you’ll have no problem.” Leaving a puff of Canoe aftershave in his wake, he left.
She felt physically ill, nauseated by the smell of cologne and food and champagne. All her hard work and training didn’t help. At the Beacon, she’d been remade, redefined and managed to remain on a road that ensured her independence. And damn it, she was good at survival. Or was she fooling herself?
On this absurd date, she reflected, she’d been humbled by her own helplessness. Sure, she could avoid getting run over by a truck. But the little, everyday things—like facing desertion in a strange place, or being hit on by a jerk—were pounding her into the ground. She was in no physical danger, but in a way, this was worse. The horror was subtle and she had no solution for it. She couldn’t fix this by labeling it with a Braille strip or by counting steps.
“I see you found the champagne,” said Tim, rejoining her.
Even as she tried to force a smile, the truth hit her. Everything she’d accomplished, all the skills the sighted found so admirable—all of it was a sham. She was fooling everyone—herself most of all—by trying to prove she could make it alone, in darkness.
She tried to step away from Tim, but there was a cold marble wall behind her.
“Jessie?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“No,” she managed to blurt, just before she threw up on his shoes.
CHAPTER 31
Balancing cold drinks on a tray, Luz walked outside to find Ian and all three boys hard at work on another new ramp, this one leading from the yard down to the dock. Even Scottie lent a hand, clearing broken rock from the path while his brothers hammered down the speed bump strips.
At the top of the shallow incline, she stopped for a moment to watch. It was a misty morning, the air sweet with the promise of spring. Ian wore the tool belt the kids had given him one Father’s Day, and a cap embroidered with the logo Carpe Diem.
“That’s quite a sight,” said a voice behind her. “I hope you’re prepared for a flock of girls to come calling when Wyatt hits puberty.” Glenny Ryder came to join Luz.
Luz took her mother’s hand. She and Stu had arrived the day before, having driven from Phoenix in a van that had more bells and whistles than a fighter jet. They had stayed up late the night before, talking about Jessie. Everyone was totally shocked, yet it explained so much. Luz was sick with anticipation. She had wanted to go tearing off to Austin, armed with the information from Simon. She’d burned to track down her sister and scoop her into her arms. In the end, it had been Ian who stopped her.<
br />
“Let Dusty do this, Luz,” he’d said.
Dusty hadn’t had a single doubt. “I’ll bring her home. But you’re not keeping her. That’s my job.”
“No one can keep Jessie,” Luz had warned him.
“I can love her. I can make her want to stay.”
Luz hadn’t had the heart to point out that no one had ever succeeded at that before. Not even her baby.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Luz said to her mother, and she meant it. Despite the complicated threads of emotion and history that bound her to her mother, she loved Glenny and was glad she’d come to visit.
“I can’t believe this is happening to our Jessie,” said Glenny. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell us.”
“I can,” said Luz. “This is her way of protecting us. She’s always done this. Most people think I’m the protective one, trying to manage everyone’s problems. But Jessie has her own methods. She thinks going away will shield us.” Ever since Simon’s phone call, Luz kept hearing Jessie’s voice: I just want to see Lila…. I want her to know who I am…. You don’t want what I’ve got. And deep in the darkest, most hidden part of Luz’s heart lay something she despised about herself. Jessie had stolen her thunder again. On the very day Luz found out about the Endicott, Jessie’s troubles had eclipsed Luz’s shining triumph. And given what Jessie was going through, a prize seemed so trivial.
But not, it seemed, to the world of professional photography. On the heels of the announcement about the award, offers and requests had poured in at a steady rate. Luz was reminded of the magical times in her youth when her mother had won a major title. The heady aftermath of success turned the world into a banquet of possibility. But deep down, Luz still felt like a phony, only playing at being a professional. How could something that meant this much to her actually become a job?
She took a gulp of tea, so cold it gave her a headache. “God, why didn’t I realize there was a problem when she handed over all her cameras?”
“How do you guess something like this?” Glenny said. “In the past two days, you’ve read volumes on the Internet about AZOOR. Could you have seen it coming?”
“No,” Luz admitted. “There aren’t any predictors, other than a tendency toward myopia. It mainly afflicts females under the age of forty.”
“So does VD, but it’s not something you think about. Quit trying to take the blame for this, Luz, for God’s sake.” In a softer voice, Glenny asked, “So do you think this guy—this Dusty—will bring her home?”
“He’s not the type to take no for an answer.”
“She’s not the type to do something because some guy tells her to.”
“This is different,” Luz said. “There’s something between them. The air just crackles when they’re together. He’s crazy about her. And Jessie—I’ve never seen her like that.”
“Grandpa Stu!” Scottie burst into a run at the top of the slope. “Come and try out the ramp!”
Stuart Burns positioned his wheelchair at the head of the new ramp. The boys hooted with excitement, running along beside him as he navigated the way down to the dock.
Luz felt Glenny tense beside her. Stuart was a fit, good-looking older man who was wheelchair-bound from a climbing accident a decade before. He and Glenny had met at a fundraiser, and they’d been together ever since. Of all her mother’s husbands, Luz liked him the best. He was kind, caring and funny. Unlike his predecessors, he hadn’t spent Glenny’s money and disappeared.
He made it down to the dock without incident, and Luz saw the tension leave her mother. He, Ian and the boys celebrated with high-fives. Stuart hoisted Scottie onto his lap and treated him to a spin in the chair while Scottie shrieked with glee.
“He’s a wonderful grandpa,” Luz said.
“Your boys are a handful of fun. Two hands full.”
Luz took a deep, nervous breath. “Mom, I need a favor.”
Glenny looked at her sharply. She was clearly aware of how hard it was for Luz to ask for something. Anything. “What’s that?” asked Glenny.
“Can you and Stu look after the boys today? I thought maybe you could take them to Woodcreek for putting practice.”
Glenny’s hesitation was weighted with reluctance. “I don’t know, Luz. They’re awfully active.”
Luz ground her teeth. She’d lain awake late into the night, agonizing over her decision. It was going to be so hard. She simply couldn’t do it with the guys running around. “Ian and I need some time alone with Lila. Please, Mom. For once in my life, I’m not going to pretend I don’t need you. I’m asking for a little help.”
Glenny must have heard the desperation in Luz’s voice. She took a Virginia Slims and a lighter from her pocket. “Is Lila in some sort of trouble?”
“Not specifically. There’s not a crisis like the accident. It’s just…” Luz hesitated. “We’ve decided to tell her about the adoption.”
Glenny lit up and gazed out across the lake as she exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “And that’ll fix what’s wrong?”
“I’m not that naive, Mom. But it’s what Jessie wanted before she left us.”
“Then you’re doing it for all the wrong reasons.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re Lila’s mother. Telling her otherwise is only going to confuse the girl.”
“Fine. Then you tell me what to do.” Luz eyed her challengingly but without any real hope of an answer. She’d been waiting all her life for her mother to make a decision for her, and it hadn’t happened yet.
“Don’t look to the past for answers,” Glenny said, surprising Luz. “Look at what is. And don’t look at Jessie or Lila. Look at yourself.”
“What about me?”
“Did you ever think…maybe you have all this tension with Lila because you’re too focused on what you expect of her? Maybe you need to find a way to put the past to rest and find a dream of your own.”
“Like you did, Mom?” The sharp note in her voice brought Glenny around to face her.
Luz flashed on a memory of a typical summer. Jessie was in the back seat of the Rambler, lost in another world while Luz tracked their progress on a map, tallied up their expenses in a small black notebook, tried to find a motel that would not set them back too much. Glenny’s mind was on her next tournament, her next man, her next move. Luz was always the good daughter, the dutiful daughter, the responsible one. Caretaker and peacemaker.
“Tell me, Mom. When did I ever have time to dream?”
“You make time for what’s important.”
Luz bit her lip. She didn’t want to have to beg, but she and Ian needed this time with Lila. “Look, if I’ve learned anything from Jessie, it’s that keeping secrets is destructive. My God, she couldn’t bring herself to tell you or me or anyone what was going on. I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”
Glenny finished her cigarette and waved at Stuart and the boys. “Who’s up for a round of putting and ice cream at the Dairy Queen?”
“Me!” the boys yelled in unison.
“Into the van, then,” Glenny said. “Chop chop.”
CHAPTER 32
Each morning when she woke up, Jessie lay still with her eyes shut and tried to think about seeing. There was nothing left of her vision but fog. She thought about colors and shapes. The faces of people she loved—Dusty and Amber, Luz and Lila, Ian and the boys. The sight of snowcapped mountains, gleaming lakes, birds in flight. Even her mother’s smile, a cherished gift. Where were those images now? They still belonged to her, didn’t they? They hadn’t gone anywhere. They were still part of her; they lived inside her.
Then, inevitably, she opened her eyes to the shadowy gray that was her only reality. She despised the fears and humiliations, the clumsy mistakes, the limitations of her condition. She despised the orderly, methodical person she’d become. She missed the mindless freedom of riding a bike, hopping in a car whenever she wanted, even simply jaywalking. Her life had slowed down to a crawl.
Why on earth would she think her road would be easy? Or that she’d have a choice?
Flambeau could never be fooled. Jessie didn’t know how she did it, but the dog knew the moment she opened her eyes. Like a persistent toddler, she gave Jessie no time to wallow in despair, but whined softly, her tail a fan that stirred the air. Time for her morning curbing.
“Okay, girlfriend,” Jessie mumbled, and went to the bathroom to get ready. A few minutes later, teeth brushed, hair brushed, sweat suit on, she harnessed Flambeau and out they went. She wished she’d brought an apple or something to settle her stomach. The morning air was crisp and dry, and the sun had barely risen. Spring was coming. She caught a whisper of scent from a Ligustrum hedge, felt a waft of warmth on her face. Jessie liked the relaxing early moments of the morning and the muted sounds of traffic on distant MoPac.
She paced back and forth on the sidewalk. Living as a blind person was not the hardest part of the future that lay ahead. Not by a long shot. Her failed date at the symphony had proven that.
Flambeau had a tiny bell attached to her collar. In this way, Jessie could keep track of the dog’s morning wanderings. She heard the bell and realized the dog was loping away from her. Flambeau would never run off, but sometimes allowed herself to be lured away by a squirrel. Jessie called out to her.
She heard the dog coming back and could tell she wasn’t alone. She could also tell Flambeau liked the stranger. She was prancing and lightly sneezing. Flambeau was an excellent judge of character. But her demeanor clearly indicated that this was indeed a stranger. If the dog recognized someone, she acted differently, announcing that fact with a soft whine.