Ava chuckled as she pulled on jeans.
“Yeah, laugh it up.”
“I’m sorry. But you could have said no. To Russo’s, not the tampon.”
“Yeah, right. And have her whine to everyone that I don’t like her because Ben started talking her up after he ghosted me?”
“I am sorry.” Maddie had been her best friend since the first day of third grade when she’d shoved a boy for calling Ava clumsy as she tried to navigate a new classroom. Maddie’d had to sit out recess as a punishment. Ava had sat with her and in fifteen minutes their friendship had been cemented.
Over the years they’d grown as close as sisters, maybe closer. She didn’t think she would have survived middle school without Maddie. It was hard enough to navigate the subtle nuances of pre-teens for a sighted person, but when you couldn’t see, couldn’t read the body language, it could be deadly.
“How’s Mister B?”
They’d been friends long enough that Maddie had dropped her last name down to one letter. “Good. Better. I’m going to the rehab place this morning. If he does well, I think he’ll come home tomorrow or the next.”
“That’s good news. Then you can come home.”
“Yeah. And not that simple.” Ava grabbed a plain long-sleeved T-shirt— she didn’t have a sense of the color except that she knew Maddie had labeled it white which she knew went with any other color.
Maddie had helped her organize her closet with braille labels that Ava made and attached to the hangers, as well as small tags inside the clothing. She couldn’t show up at the United Nations wearing the bottoms of one pantsuit and the jacket from another.
“I miss you,” Maddie said, the pout clear in her voice. “Ryan couldn’t help them?”
“He has been helping them. And Connie, too. But I can’t leave him to do everything.” Her sister-in-law and brother, both attorneys, did a lot. Enough to make her feel like she needed to come home and take some of the weight.
“Well, it was his choice not to move away.”
And her choice to move away, Ava thought guiltily.
She pulled out a pair of short leather boots. She moved her fingers quickly over the braille label stuck to the bottom near the heel where it never touched the ground, confirming they were the ones she wanted.
She knew that certain items and combinations were ones she’d worn to certain events so she had memories of wearing them, even if she couldn’t see them. That gave her a sense of knowing what she was wearing. Like the dress she’d worn to the wedding. The one she’d worn when she’d danced with Luke.
“Why are you complaining anyway? You’re still in the city,” she said, running her hand to the right, lightly touching the few hanging items she’d brought from New York.
“It’s not as much fun without you.”
“Well, I miss you, too.” Ava’s fingers paused when they came to the cool, satiny fabric. If she brought it to her face would she smell him? She leaned in, sniffed. Yep.
“Are you dying of boredom?”
Ava smiled, thinking of Luke. “They’re keeping me pretty busy. Nothing fun. Calling the insurance company, vetting the bills, getting special bathroom equipment delivered. Oh, and taking care of Rocky,” she said, of her parents’ Shitzu.
“Aww. How is Rocky?”
“Hanging in there, my little angel. He’s sixteen, takes meds three times a day and wears a diaper.”
“Yikes. Still riding horses? I bet you smell like a barn.”
“Yep and I do.” She sat to pull on socks. “I’ve even scooped manure.”
“Any sane person would ask why.”
“One, to get out of the house, two to get out of the house, and three—”
“To get out of the house.”
“No. Number three is I actually like it.”
“Well that’s scary and you’ve obviously been there too long. When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know. He’s already behind schedule because of the infection. I’d hoped he’d be home and settled by now. I feel like I need to stay long enough to get him back on his feet. Or at least until he doesn’t need someone here twenty–four seven.”
“Meanwhile I don’t have anyone to drink Friday cocktails with.”
“That’s no reason to sit at home,” Ava said, tugging up the side zippers on her boots. Not exactly riding boots, but they worked. “What about Sabina? Or Katy?”
“I didn’t say I was sitting at home,” Maddie said with a laugh. “And I have met the random guy here and there. None worth a second drink. But I need you here. I need my wing woman. I need you to listen for their lies.”
A knot curled in Ava’s stomach. “I’m no lie detector.” Her faith in her ability to read people had been thoroughly shaken in the past year. Everything had been shaken. Having your husband wake up one day and say he didn’t want to be married to you anymore would do that.
Maddie blew out a breath. “Sorry.” Like a true friend, Maddie held savage disdain for Ava’s ex.
“Hey, maybe you could come down here for a visit. You could ride a horse.”
“I don’t think so. Ooh! How was the wedding? You did go, didn’t you?”
“I did, and it was good. Thanks again for mailing the dress.”
“No prob. Was it cowboy themed?”
“I don’t know why you think this is the country. You lived here half your life. Norfolk is twenty minutes away.”
“Anything not the city is the country. Besides, my passport says NYC.”
“Well, it was nice. There were fresh flowers, a great band at the reception. Oh, and this cookie table. You wouldn’t believe it. Rows and rows of cookies. Luke gave me the tour—it was that many cookies— and we piled our plate until they were falling off. You should’ve heard him trying to describe each one. There was this one—”
“Whoa, back up. Who’s Luke?”
“Hannah’s brother. She’s the one that has the barn and—”
“Yeah, yeah. I got that. I want to hear more about Luke.”
“He was nice. Sweet. We danced.”
“Oooh. And?”
“And… I don’t know if I’ll see him again.”
“But he’s Hannah’s brother, right? This horse thing is making more sense now. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”
“Ha.” She hated that talking about the wedding made her think of Blake. She shouldn’t be hurt after all this time. She wouldn’t be. She shouldn’t even be angry, but she absolutely would not be hurt. “Blake emailed me.”
“Asshole.”
Ava smiled in agreement.
“What the hell did he want?”
“Oh, you know. Just checking in. Asking about Dad. He asked me to call him.”
“God, I’d really like to hurt him. Can I please? Just a little?”
“You know you wouldn’t last an hour in a cell. There’s no Starbucks in prison.”
“True.”
“At least for the time I’m here I don’t have to run into him.” Because he also worked at the UN, but in the IT department. It was a big place, but since the divorce she ran into him at least once a month. Or maybe more than that. After all, how would she know?
His parting words to her as they’d left the attorney’s office had been, I hope we can be friends.
She’d been so shocked by his hope, she’d stumbled getting into the elevator. Had violently rejected his quick offer of help with a jerk of her arm. She’d never felt her blindness so keenly, never felt so small, so…lacking. All she’d wanted was to get away. Away from him. Away from the feelings she was afraid to admit were still there. She’d loved him for five years. Why couldn’t she turn it off like he had?
“Here’s an idea,” Maddie said. “Take the cowboy for a ride. Exorcise the demon that is your ex.”
The idea had merit, Ava thought, but digging out from under a failed marriage took time. And so, so much emotional energy. She was better off being alone. Her phone dinged with a time reminder. “Oh, shoot
. Hey, I need to go. Mom is dropping me at the rehab place while she goes to an eye appointment.”
“Okay. Hug Mr. and Mrs. B for me.”
“I will. I miss you.”
“Miss you more.”
She ended the call, felt for her small silver studs on her dresser and put them in her ears.
Take the cowboy for a ride.
She wouldn’t deny she’d felt a tug in her belly when she’d danced with Luke. Couldn’t deny she’d been disappointed when he’d dropped her off without so much as a kiss on the cheek, which was insane. She needed to keep her life simple. She’d had way too much complicated in the past year. And she wasn’t at all sure kissing Luke Walker would be simple.
“Thanks for doing this Ava,” her mom said as they drove to the rehab facility. “I’ve had this appointment for ages and I don’t want to cancel.”
“Of course. That’s what I came for.”
“I don’t know.” Her mother sighed the heavy sigh of the martyr. “I should be there. I can cancel this eye thing or change it.”
“Mom, you said you’d been waiting for months to get in to see this doctor. It’ll take you months to get another appointment.”
“I know. I just can’t believe it worked out like this, today of all days.”
“I’ll make a note of every single thing his doctor says, I promise. I’ll even record it on my phone if you want. I think I can record and take notes at the same time.”
“You know your father won’t ask any questions.”
Ava smiled thinking of her affable father. He’d be coming home tomorrow, assuming his doctor gave him the pass to continue his physical therapy at home after today. “I’ll ask them.” And she would ask again about getting some in home help. Her parents didn’t have the extra money to hire someone to come in, and so far the insurance wasn’t paying.
“Okay. Your brother said he’d get here if he could, but it was doubtful,” Ava’s mom said, as she pulled to a stop under the awning of the rehab facility. “Do you need me to walk you in?”
“No. I’m good,” she said, evenly and with a smile, but jeez. How did her mother think she survived on her own? Only by the grace of God, would probably be her mother’s answer. Ava gathered her purse and her guide stick.
“The door is straight ahead. Maybe twelve steps.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She’d been here four times. It was actually slightly to the left and sixteen steps.
“I can just walk you in. I’ve got time.” She put the car in park.
“Mom. Please. I’ve got it. Go.”
“I’ll be back to get you in two, maybe three hours depending.”
Ava stopped outside the car, her hand on the open door. “I’m going to the barn for a riding lesson after this.”
“Ava! That’s thirty minutes away. I don’t know if I—”
“Mom, I’ll be fine. Promise.” She’d waited until the last minute to tell her mother this.
Ava closed the car door before her mother could argue, drew in a deep breath and made her way in. She’d been here three times since her dad had been moved so she knew it was fourteen steps to the automatic doors.
They opened with a whoosh and she was blasted with that sickly smell of hospitals and rehab facilities. Overly sweet cleaning supplies that couldn’t quite cover up the stale smell of sickness and old people. Her dad wasn’t that old and he wasn’t that sick. She’d be glad to get him out of here.
Blake’s hospital room hadn’t been like that. As the renowned transplant facility in the country it had smelled clean, fresh, new. That had been a happy time, even with the nervous anticipation.
“You’re getting eyes!” she’d said for the fourth time, squeezing Blake’s hand.
“You’re repeating yourself,” Blake had said, but gave her hand a return squeeze.
“I know. I just can’t help it.” She couldn’t have been more excited if it was herself just hours away from a corneal transplant. Her husband, her blind husband and best friend, could possibly be able to see in a few months.
“It might not work,” Blake said.
“I know. And I know you have to be realistic, but you also have to be positive.”
“I am.”
“Positively realistic?”
This time when he squeezed her hand he kept on squeezing. “I love you.”
“I know. I love you, too. For better or worse.”
“For better or worse,” he repeated.
“Yep. But I think this is about to be for better. I really do. The best.” She clasped her other hand around their joined hands as if by touching him she could lend him her strength.
Blake took a deep breath and let it out. She knew he was nervous. He’d put in for a double corneal transplant four years ago and they both knew the odds and the risks. His body could reject the transplants, among other things. She knew regardless of how many times he reminded her, and himself, that it might not work, how devastated he would be if it didn’t.
“I’m sorry you’re not a candidate,” he said softly, interrupting her thoughts.
“What? Blake, don’t. You know I’m happy for you.”
“I know. But I feel guilty.”
“That’s stupid. And you’re not generally stupid.”
He laughed softly. “Thanks. You know what I’m looking forward to seeing most?”
“Yes. Me. You told me.”
“True. But specifically, your eyes. I want to see your eyes.” He touched a gentle finger to her brow, ran one smooth fingertip down to her lips. “Then your smile. Then…” His finger continued down her neck, her chest.
“I get it.” She smiled and covered his hand with her own, stopping him from going any lower. “I hope you like what you see.”
“No question.” He rubbed his thumb over the wedding band he’d placed on her finger almost a year before. “I couldn’t do this without you, Ava.”
“Ava!” her dad called when she reached his room. “Hey, baby girl.”
“Hi, Daddy.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek. This was real love. Unconditional and lasting.
7
Luke drove a second replacement post into the ground and secured a cross board to either end. He’d taken some time off from working on the first of the campers’ cabins this morning to replace a few rotted sections of fence. There were four turn–out paddocks, each one about half the size of a football field and each one had at least a couple posts that needed attention.
He’d been up before the sun had burned away the dewy mist of dawn when the world was blanketed in a soft gray. The trees in the distance blurred around the edges. Now the landscape was a pallet of greens instead of grays. The heavy stillness of fog replaced by a gentle breeze that had every new blade of grass swaying with life.
He tried not to think it was the perfect place for the enemy to hide. Tried not to slide his hand over his hip and be reminded that he didn’t have a gun if death rose up out of the field and started shooting at him.
He didn’t close his eyes. Couldn’t force himself to do that, but he did concentrate on breathing normally, slowing his heart rate. Not a war zone. Not a war zone. Not a war zone.
He scanned the expanse of raw land. Horses made soft noises or stood stock still, heads down. No sign they sensed danger. He inhaled the scent of damp grass and fresh manure. Sometimes, even here, he swore he smelled diesel exhaust, burnt rubber, and smoke.
The sky overhead was clear, clear and blue and he couldn’t look at it without thinking of Ava’s eyes. The sun was warm now and he’d traded his sweatshirt of earlier for short sleeves. After two more screws at the bottom, he gave the post a good shove, assuring himself it was solid.
He stretched his neck and looked down the fence line. He’d walked almost the entire way from the cabin to the barn. Might as well see if his sister needed help with anything else while he was here. Keeping busy was the best coping strategy. Assuming he needed a strategy to cope.
He entered the barn through the o
pen back doors, passing stalls on his way to the office. He’d passed three empty stalls before he heard his sister telling someone what a handsome boy they were.
He stood just outside the stall, watching her stroke the big gelding.
“And such a good boy, too. Yes, you are.”
“You talking to me?”
Hannah turned at the sound, then grinned over her shoulder. “Well, you’re moderately handsome, though you don’t hold a candle to Newman.”
“Mmm. Careful he doesn’t step on you.”
Hannah rolled her eyes before turning back to the horse. “What are you doing here?”
“Nothing. I was just working on some fence posts I noticed were loose. Thought I’d see if you needed anything else.”
“If you’re going for best brother award, you’re in the lead.” Hannah grabbed the pitchfork leaning outside the stall and scooped up a fork full of manure laden straw.
“Here. Give me that.” Luke stepped up to take the pitch fork from her. She didn’t let it go.
“I can do it.”
“I know you can.”
“Then let go.”
“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. He still saw her as two with hair sticking up all over her head in golden tufts. His brothers had been tight once, even if the years and miles he’d put between them had killed that. But his baby sister, he’d missed her entire life. Funny how regret could grow once it started.
At fifteen, he’d been in awe of this tiny little thing his mom had brought home. A lone girl in a house of teenage boys. He remembered how his mom had fussed over every detail for months. How he’d moved into Nick’s room so his mom could make the pink and white nursery of her dreams.
A surly teen to his core, it’d been hard to keep up his angry shell when Hannah gave him her toothy slobbery grin or patted his cheeks with sticky fingers. She wouldn’t remember any of that. Given what had happened the night he’d left, he should be grateful she was too young to remember.
Waiting On the Rain Page 5
