by Lyz Kelley
A kaleidoscope of thoughts formed and reformed. Somehow he sensed that the next few words he spoke might be profoundly important, so he took his time. Drawing in a long, nervous breath, he then pushed the air and trepidation out of his body. “Maybe I asked you to breakfast because I’ve always found you intriguing.” And, I should have asked you out a long time ago.
“Intriguing? Why? Because I arrange flowers for people? Or because I’m blind?”
The bold question proved his point. “I’ve always found you intriguing, and your blindness is only a part of who you are. What I find fascinating is your confidence, the way you delight in helping others, and your relationship with Buddy.”
Upon hearing his name, Buddy glanced back at him.
“He’s easy to love. All animals are.” She stated simply, then walked along in silence, but her facial expressions created a symphony of reflections.
“What are you thinking?”
“How time changes people.” She inclined her head his way. “It seems the last ten years have changed you. You’re less intense and seem more comfortable with life. So, who is Joey Gaccione now? What’s he like?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, that’s convenient. I have time to listen.”
Joey swallowed another semi-flippant response when her curious brow lifted, waiting for him to say something—something honest. “I’m not sure. After college, I focused on putting food on the table, paying bills, working hard, taking and making opportunities for advancement. Then, one day, I got called to a horrific scene. The father had lost his job. With no way to make a living, he took the lives of his wife and six children, then killed himself. The youngest was just six months old. The case made me stop and think. Honestly, some days I wonder if detective work is what I want to do. I studied and worked hard because I wanted to make my parents proud. Now, I’m wondering if I can continue doing the intensive work I do long-term, because I’ve come to realize I can never satisfy my parents.”
The frigid wind whipped Mara’s hair against her face. Joey stopped to tuck the stray strands into her wool cap.
“Your mom is very proud of you, Joey. You should hear her brag about her son—how smart and handsome. You’re a catch. Don’t you know?”
“A catch?” Typical ma. “She makes me sound like a piece of salmon.” Yet pride still warmed his core.
“You know a good paying job isn’t what makes a parent proud, right?”
That’s the only thing that makes my parents proud…wasn’t it? “For a man, it’s different.”
“I wouldn’t think so. Every parent wants their child to grow up happy, be independent, and to be a kind and caring person. Your parents seem proud of you not for the position or the title of your job, but the fact that you are helping protect your community.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“It’s odd to hear that you don’t like your job. It seems you work hard at something you don’t want to do.”
You understand too much for someone who can’t see.
“Joey, if you and Sam hadn’t been so competitive and worked so hard to out-do each other, what would you have done with your life?”
“That’s too hard to answer. There’s never been a life without Sam until now.” He pulled closer, to keep her warm, at least that was the excuse. “What about you? Who is Mara Dijocomo?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m pretty much the same girl. Maybe a little wiser. Less naïve. More prepared. Doing what I need to do to survive. When life puts you on a train to hell, you get to know what’s important, who your real friends are and who’s there to help you find your way back.”
“True friends. A person doesn’t get many in their lifetime.” A nostalgic smile tugged at his mouth. “I had good friends in college. Jobs scattered us across three continents. Then careers and commitments started interfering with regular communication. When you find good people, you hold on. Maybe we can try it. Friendship, that is.”
Or something more. Being her friend would be hard, especially since he had the constant urge to kiss her and feel her soft skin beneath the palm of his hand.
“Not many people want to befriend a blind person. We have our limitations.” Mara shrugged her shoulders dismissively, and he detested the careless gesture.
“That’s the problem with this world. Plastic people. People who only want to associate with those who dress like them, think like them…clones. I prefer hanging with people who think independently, are confident in who they are, and don’t feel the need to shrink to fit in.”
“I haven’t shrunk, but my world seems to have gotten a bit smaller. Blindness does that to a person.”
They walked several blocks in silence. The shining sun doing little to warm his fingers. He cherished the fact she didn’t need to fill the minutes with senseless chatter. She reminded him of a butterfly, capturing his attention to make him pause and reflect on the beauty of the moment.
When they neared the park, she picked up her pace.
“Do you see any snowmen?” she asked, childlike excitement glowing on her face. “The children at the elementary school were going to make some yesterday.”
Joey gazed over the landscape of snow and tree skeletons dormant for winter until he found several stacked mounds. “I see them. They’re by the playground to the right of the slides.”
“So there was enough snow. One of the teachers stopped by yesterday morning for some willow branches. Supposedly, the children are studying the British monarchy and wanted to build the royal family.”
Royal family snow people. “This should be interesting.”
Buddy followed the path. A few dozen feet from the historical site, Joey started to laugh. “Yep, that’s the royal court, all right. Complete with crown, scepter and what I think are supposed to be the royal medals constructed with ribbon and glitter.”
“Gwen, the owner of Second Time Around, the thrift store here in town, provided the costumes. I wish I could see them.”
“Maybe you can.” Joey stood behind her and directed her shoulders. “In front of you is Queen Elizabeth. Take a bow.” Joey placed his arms around her waist and leaned forward over her back, creating a double-person bow. He expected her to laugh, but she became still. Her free hand remained on his arm.
“What else?” she asked on a whispered breath.
She smelled of vanilla creamer, and the cozy scent brought a sense of calm. He liked the way she fit in his arms, especially the way she eased back, folding into his frame. One by one, he described each snowperson in detail, from the white gloves and hats to the ribbon sashes, to the dollar-store crowns, never letting her go. Standing together, her in his arms, he could stay that way forever, but he caught the shiver that ran the length of her body.
“You’re getting cold. We should move on.”
A pair of mothers, out for their early morning exercise, moved along the park’s path, pushing strollers, with toddlers in tow. The soft yet insistent wail of an infant and a toddler refusing to put on his hat created a distraction.
Mara turned slightly. “Sounds like someone is cranky and someone else wants breakfast.”
“I suspect the one who wants breakfast is the little girl in the stroller. She’s bundled in one of those head-to-toe snowsuits.” His hot breath crystallized and swirled around them. “She’s wearing one of those knitted strawberry hats, complete with a green stem.”
A little boy spotted Buddy and darted toward them. “Can I pet your dog?” a small, bold voice asked.
Joey took a half step forward. “I don’t think—”
“It’s okay.” Mara leaned toward Buddy, rubbing his chest, and aimed her voice toward the little boy. “Sure you can pet the dog, but please be gentle. Buddy likes to be petted only behind his ears. He’s on duty and likes to see and hear what’s going on. What’s your name?”
“Bradley. I’m four.”
“Nice to meet you, Bradley-I’m-four. Meet Buddy. He just turned fiv
e.”
“Bradley!” yelled a tired and riled woman wearing no makeup and black circles under her eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Bradley, you’re not supposed to approach strange dogs.” The woman pulled the boy away from the dog. “What’s with you today?” she demanded as the boy let out a sniffled wail.
Jealousy. Sibling rivalry. The fact that Bradley’s new little sister got the majority of Mom’s attention. All of which, he figured, made the little guy darn-right cranky.
Joey whispered, “From the look on the mom’s face, Bradley’s been pushing the right irritation buttons this morning. It’s got to be tough being the only one, then, wham, you have to share everything.”
Mara tilted her head to the left. “The way you phrased your sentence makes me think you’re talking about your brother.”
“Sam used to get mad when I played with his toys. I would sneak them out of his room. I remember the day I broke his favorite fire engine. The truck was this two-foot metal jobber complete with an extended ladder and an unwinding hose. I’m not sure he ever forgave me.”
The mellow expression on her face morphed into something brittle and somber. “I always thought I would have kids.”
His heart kerplunked. There was something misguided about her statement. The sentence was past tense, like Mara never having children was written in a book somewhere and couldn’t be changed.
How could that be?
Chapter Seven
Joey refused to believe she didn’t want to have a family of her own. Surely she considered herself capable. That preposterous thought pummeled his heart.
“You don’t want kids?”
“Before the accident, I wanted a houseful, but some days I struggle just taking care of Buddy and the store. Plus, I’m not sure how I would feel, knowing I’d never be able to see my children’s faces, or their drawings, or watch them cross the stage to graduate. Besides, what guy is going to sign up to date a lifetime member of the American Disability Association?”
“The right guy, that’s who.” Joey hoped she heard and believed his conviction.
The family moved along, the little boy waving at Buddy as he passed. Unfortunately, Mara didn’t see the child’s wave or how his downright crankiness had turned bright and cheerful—driving her point home.
Oblivious, she took a step in the opposite direction. An understanding of how much the accident had truly taken from her sliced a chunk out of his heart.
“Don’t worry.” She gave him a soft nudge and grinned. “There are about twenty thousand people in this town. Assuming half are men, I have a one-in-ten-thousand chance to find the right guy. Maybe I should start hanging out at Mad Jack’s pub to increase my chances. Or hey, I’ll win the lottery, and men will be falling over themselves to get a piece of my winnings.”
Irritation flared in his gut like a bowl of spicy green chili sitting on an ulcer. She didn’t need to win lotteries or pick up guys in bars. She deserved better.
She reached out and touched his arm. “What just happened? You went quiet on me.”
“A bar isn’t the best place to start a relationship. The guys there have two things in mind: one, to get drunk, and two, to get laid.”
“Wonderful. I’ll put on my skimpy skirt and slide on up to the bar, see if I can up my chances.”
Really? Maybe I don’t know you after all.
“That was a joke, Joey. I don’t have time between my work and volunteering at the animal shelter, and you know I’m not the promiscuous type. Besides, with Gina being pregnant, Tony is a bit distracted these days, and there’s no one else to run the flower shop. It’s busy this time of year, so I don’t get out much. Today’s a nice exception.”
Relief doused his irritation. Still, the idea of her having to search for dates didn’t sit quite right. Guys were plain stupid if they couldn’t see what she had to offer.
Maybe it was men who were blind.
Mara could see what mattered just fine.
The rest of their walk to the little restaurant on Main Street took just under ten minutes. Joey opened the heavy glass door, taking a few seconds to scan the vehicles and license plates of the cars parked in the front before entering. None were from out of state.
Mara moved to the “Please wait to be seated” sign.
A platinum blonde who hadn’t updated her hairstyle since the Sixties, and most likely wore her grandmother’s pearls, approached them with a bubblegum-pink smile. “Mara, darling. Where have you been?”
Mara nudged Buddy’s rump to make him sit and then straightened. “Hey, Sheila. I’ve been boxing flowers for half of the male population this side of the ridge. Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, remember?”
“Girl, your fingers must be raw.”
“I don’t mind the cuts. Especially since we need the rent money. I just hope Mother’s Day goes as well.”
The sincerity and concern in her voice communicated more than Mara probably wanted him or other people to know. He guessed concerns about bills and cash flow to run a business never let up, at least not for long.
Her head turned slightly toward the dining area. “Is my table open?”
“That table has your name on it, honey. Right this way,” Sheila said before Joey could find a way to broach the subject of cash flow.
Assisted by Buddy, Mara followed Sheila, maneuvering around tables and chairs like a dog running an agility track.
“Here’s a menu for your friend,” Sheila said, dropping a laminated list on the table.
Mara turned toward the voice. “Sheila, this is Joey Gaccione. He went to high school here and came home for a brief visit.”
He noticed Mara didn’t mention the connection with his brother, but he could see Sheila connecting the dots.
“Nice to meet you, Joey. Sure love your momma’s lasagna. Best in town. Heard you were going to help with your brother’s case.”
He cringed. “I’ll do what I can.”
He scanned the café and sure enough people were looking at him with a hopefulness he dreaded. He remained silent until Sheila disappeared, then stepped forward to help Mara with her coat.
She shrugged out of his grasp. “Thanks, but I can manage.”
Noticing the irritation in her tone, he placed a hand on her woolen sleeve. “I know you can manage, but if my mother walked in and saw I wasn’t doing right by you…well, let’s just say I don’t want that to happen. As you know, this town is very small. News travels fast. I would appreciate it if you would help me out here. I don’t want my cell phone squawking in the next ten minutes.”
“Thank you.” Mara nodded, allowing him to help her with her coat. She slid into the booth, while Buddy found a spot on the floor beside the worn leather bench, and he hung her coat on a nearby hook.
Her index finger automatically started to draw abstract designs on the table. “I’m glad you came to my rescue today. You introducing me to the royal family also made my day special.”
“Not a problem.” He watched her finger spiral then loop. “May I ask what you’re drawing?”
Her finger paused, and he sighed with disappointment, but then the movement started again and revitalized his delight.
“Actually, I’m not drawing so much as spelling. When I was adjusting to my blindness, the psychologist said I needed to practice writing and typing so I don’t lose my skills. Thanks to Stephen Hawking, technology has advanced, but still not far enough to take away the nuances a blind person faces. The doctors, nurses and therapists all told me I needed to believe, so that’s what I write, different forms of believe, like optimism and faith, to remind me.”
Her explanation drifted away like an unmoored boat, suggesting she’d said too much. Wanting insight into what made Mara Dijocomo tick, he asked, “Reminders of what?”
Her hands slowly curled into fists.
Dang it. Why do I always have to push too hard? Regret rushed in, then wavered when her hands eased flat.
“To believe. Believe I was capable of standing in
order to walk. Believe I could walk, to run, and if I worked hard and accomplished running, I could do just about anything I set my mind to doing.”
“Can you run, Mara?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear the pride in her voice, acknowledging her many accomplishments.
“Yes, but not very fast, and my muscles like to punish me for trying. That’s why I like to walk. I even did a ten-kilometer walk last year to raise money for Helper Shelter, the animal adoption place where I teach classes. I’m convinced the exercises makes sure my rods and pins get lubricated, even though the doctors tell me it’s more about muscles and tendons.”
“That’s awesome.”
The pride on her face slowly morphed into a look of determination—the familiar expression he’d noticed when she was trying to solve a tough math problem. His phone rang and the temptation not to answer grew.
“If that’s your mom, tell her it’s my fault I resisted help.” Mara’s smile filled him with joy until he scanned the number displayed. He instantly swiped his thumb across the pad.
“Gaccione.” He listened, his whole body sparking with a sudden anger. “When?” A swoosh of disappointment quickly followed. An awareness he was clenching his phone so hard he just might crack the casing filtered in. “The funeral’s tomorrow. Yep. Understood. Yes, sir. I’ll be home as soon as possible.”
He ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket.
“Is everything all right?”
Hell, no. “It was my boss calling to say another body’s been found.”
“I’m so, so sorry.”
“I should have been there. I should have been working to help stop this lunatic. I need to do something.”
“You are doing something. You’re trying to find your brother’s killer.” Mara reached her hand out to connect and provide comfort.
He didn’t want human touch. He wanted to get up, fly back to Seattle and get back to work. Yet, he found himself reaching across the table instead.
“You also helped me this morning by scaring that guy away.”
