by Mary Campisi
It was this agonizing torture of seeing and not seeing that was the worst. He'd just about come to terms with his blindness, even considered using the walking staff Sara gave him a few days ago. Hell, he'd even been toying with a dog. Sara loved animals, so he thought he'd make her happy and get an extra pair of eyes in the bargain.
So why did he have to be thrown into purgatory when he'd just about clawed his way out of hell and had his foot on the first rung of heaven's ladder?
Damned if he knew.
“Matt? What are you doing?”
He jerked his head away from the sun and pushed his hat low on his forehead. How could he not have heard Sara coming? Too engrossed in his experiments, that's why.
“What are you doing?” she asked again, her voice mere inches from him.
He reached up, found her hand. “Nothing,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Just getting a little sun.”
“Well, you looked a little strange with your face all scrunched up. Kind of like the sun was bothering your eyes.”
“Now that would be a trick, wouldn't it?” he said, pulling her toward him for a kiss.
“We have work to do, remember?” she murmured against his lips. “Another chapter today.”
“Jack can wait.” He ran his hand down her bare arm. “I can't.”
“You'll have to,” she said, easing from his grasp. “Jack needs to get out of disaster and hooked up with his woman.”
“So do I,” he teased, reaching out, trying to find her. His hand snatched gobs of air.
“Right now, all you're going to get is an iced tea. Rosa just made a fresh pitcher. Would you like some?”
He blew out a sigh, pretending disgust. “If that's all you're offering, I guess it'll have to do.”
She planted a light kiss on his mouth. “You'll get dessert later.”
He traced her lips with his tongue. “My favorite part of the meal.”
“Then you can have seconds,” she whispered. “Or thirds.”
He groaned and she pulled away, her husky laugh floating over him. “Be right back.”
Matt took a deep breath. Enjoying Sara’s orange and lemon scent. Tonight could not get here soon enough. He sighed and looked toward the patio door.
His breath slammed against his throat and he shot up in his chair, eyes wide open, staring at the indistinct gray shape moving away from him.
Sara. He'd just seen Sara.
***
“What's wrong?” Sara asked, cuddling next to him. “You've been fidgeting all night.” She smoothed a curl from his forehead. “And you've been squinting for days. I'm starting to wonder if you shouldn't see a doctor.”
“That's probably not a bad idea.”
His ready agreement surprised her. Matt Brandon, agreeing to see a doctor? He wouldn't do that unless he thought something was wrong. “Are you having any symptoms that are causing you concern?” She doubted he'd admit to anything outright, but maybe if she were less obvious about it, he might open up.
“Now you sound like a doctor.”
“Just concerned.”
“Don't be,” he said, taking her hand in his, and stroking her fingers. “I just think it's time for the good old doc to let me know if anything's changed. That's all.”
“Honest?”
His hand stilled a half second. “Honest.”
“I'll go with you if you like.”
“I'd like that very much.” Sara scooted down on the leather sofa and rested her head on his shoulder. “It doesn't matter if the doctor says things are the same,” he said. “I just want to know.”
Why did he want to know now? After all these months of fighting doctors? Had something happened to change his mind?
“Why don't we plan a trip to Pittsburgh in a few weeks,” he said. “Stay six or seven days, take in a few ball games. Visit Jeff. What do you think?”
“Sounds great. After all, Pittsburgh is my home and Jeff is my boss.” She tried to make a joke of it but the words fell flat.
“That could all change,” he said.
How could it change? What are you offering? She had to know. “But sooner or later, I have to go back for more than a visit.”
“Why?”
Was he serious? “Why?”
“Yeah. Why do you have to go back at all? Why can't you stay here?” He ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “I thought that was the plan.”
Just stay? No promises? No commitments?
She sat up and turned toward him so she could see his expression and try to read between his words. “We've never talked about anything on a long-term basis.”
A muscle twitched on the left side of his jaw. “I assumed you'd stay with me and see how things worked out.”
And if they didn't? She'd be right back where she was three years ago when Brian walked out on her. She couldn't do that again, not even for Matt. “I'm sorry, I can't do that.”
He tensed. “Can't? Or won't?”
“It's the same thing, isn't it? I have another life, a job, other responsibilities …” He'd never understand.
“I'll double your salary.”
“To do what?” Each word he spoke pierced her heart.
“Be my assistant. Type, go on tour… just be with me.”
“Oh. A paid companion.”
“Kind of.”
“No better than one of those women who flock around you.”
“No! Why would you say a thing like that?”
Because somewhere between that first shared kiss and now, she'd assumed they were building toward something stronger than just for today. Foolish as she might have been, she actually dreamed of being with this man, loving him, maybe having his children. Obviously, he hadn't shared her dream. She'd been nothing more than short-term parking—easy access, convenient. Temporary.
“Sara? Answer me.”
“I said it because if I stay with you under those conditions, then I'm no better than all those women you eventually come to detest.”
“I want you to stay. You know that.”
“I know.”
“But you want a ring.” He spat out the words as though he'd tasted something vile.
“I want a commitment,” she corrected, as the distance between them grew.
He let out a harsh laugh. “You've been reading the wrong kind of books. No wonder you don't like mine. They deal in reality. For now, not forever.”
That might be his reality, but it wasn’t hers. “I'm looking for real life people who love each other and aren't afraid to make a commitment.”
“You're looking for a fairy tale with a happy ending,” he bit out. “I'm no Prince Charming and if that's who you're looking for, you should have picked Adam.”
He would not see the pain pouring from her wound as his words ripped her heart open and tore the life from her. “God, but I wish I had.”
His face contorted with anger. “Damn you,” he hissed, heaving himself from the sofa. He turned on his heel and stalked from the room.
Sara closed her eyes and let the tears come.
***
How much longer was he going to be forced to sit here, with his ass hanging out of this ridiculous gown? Where was that damn doctor? He needed answers and he needed them now.
He was tired of waiting. It had taken three days to get an appointment. That was his first annoyance. The receptionist had told him the doctor usually had a three-to-four-week wait, but considering the circumstances, she'd adjust the schedule. What she meant was considering who he was, she'd bump him up a few days. What if he'd said he was Robert De Niro? Or Al Pacino? He'd probably have gotten same-day service.
Matt had insisted on having the MRI done the same day as his doctor visit. He wanted answers. The lights and shadows came to him daily, threatening to drive him mad. He needed to understand what was happening. Was he on the path to seeing again or was this quasi-sight God's way of punishing him for the early months he spent cursing Him for his blindness?
He'd been cu
rsing a lot these last few days. Not that anyone would have noticed, because he wasn't talking to anyone. The words were all in his head, long hyphenated phrases, with colorful expletives.
All because of her. Sara Hamilton had finally pushed him over the edge. He hoped she was happy. They hadn't spoken more than twenty words to each other in the past three days. Other than a perfunctory greeting, they'd treated each other like pieces of furniture.
And as for sharing the same bed… Well, that was a subject better left untouched.
Why couldn't she have just left things alone? Why did she have to go and start spouting words like commitment? Next she'd be talking about picking out silver patterns. He didn't need to hear that right now. Didn't want to hear it. And now she was talking about leaving? Just because he wouldn't say some ridiculous, overused words? Didn't she know he cared for her, wanted to be with her, would take care of her?
Why couldn't that be enough?
The door opened, intruding on his thoughts. Thank God. He welcomed any diversion to take his mind off of her.
“Hello, Matt,” Dr. Myers's gruff voice filled the room.
“Doc.” He nodded in greeting.
“I've got good news. The swelling is gone. There’s some scar tissue, but that shouldn't hinder your sight.”
“Meaning?” He didn’t dare hope.
“Meaning there's no reason you shouldn’t regain your sight.”
Matt let out a long sigh. “Really?” Could it be true, that after all these months of darkness, he might see light again?
“The lights you've been seeing along with the shadows are normal. Your vision will return in stages.”
“How long?”
“That's uncertain. You need to be patient and let your body follow its own course.”
Matt ignored the advice. “Patience has never been one of my virtues, Doc. At least, give me a guess. How long until I really see again? One month? Two? A year?”
“I'd only be guessing.”
“I'll take it.”
“Well, the rapidity with which you progressed from blinking lights to moving forms suggests your vision may return within a matter of a few months. Two to three, perhaps.”
“And then, I'll see normally, no more flashes or blurs like I'm underwater?”
“You should see as well as you did before.”
Matt closed his eyes and tried to digest the doctor's words. A month ago, he'd lived in darkness, thinking he'd never see again. Ten days ago, he was considering a Seeing Eye dog and a walking staff. Today, he learned the lights and shadows that haunted him daily would, in time, reshape themselves into real things, like people and objects.”So, what do I do now?”
“Now comes the hardest part,” Dr. Myers said, his gruff voice softening. “You wait.”
***
Matt stepped out of the office, looking much the way he had when he'd entered it over an hour ago. Stoic. Unreadable. Grim. Deep lines bracketed both sides of his mouth. Had he received bad news? Had the doctor squelched his last hope to see again?
She guided him to the elevator, resting her hand in the crook of his arm. She wished he'd worn a long-sleeved shirt. Then she wouldn't have to touch his bare skin and be tormented with what had been. For a short space in time, they had connected and it had been a beautiful, glorious glimpse of heaven. Who would have believed that she, who hadn't been on a date since Brian left, with the exception of dinner meetings and the occasional social function where an escort was required, would fall headfirst for a man she'd once half detested? The myth of Matthew Brandon had turned out to be far different from the flesh and blood man—him she hadn't been able to resist.
As they entered the elevator, she pushed the lobby button and glanced at the man who'd given her joy mixed with equal torment. He was staring straight ahead. Cold. Silent. Rigid. As though she weren't there. Sara sucked in a breath and faced him. “What did the doctor say?”
There was a long expanse of silence, so long she thought he might ignore the question, altogether. When he did speak his words held no emotion. “He said everything seems to be healed. With time and patience, I'll see again.”
Tears filled her eyes and clogged her throat but she pushed past them. “I'm very happy for you.”
And so sad for us, she wanted to add. So sad we couldn't find a common ground to work through our differences. So sad that soon I'll be less than a faint memory and you won't ache for me the way I'll ache for you. She swiped at her tears.
“You've achieved your mission, Sara. And then some. You should be proud. I'll be back to my old self in no time.” He paused. “And you'll be back in Pittsburgh.”
Had his voice wavered when he mentioned Pittsburgh? Had the harsh lines around his mouth softened? His next words made her certain she'd only imagined it.
“In six months' time, we'll have our lives back, just like they were before,” he said, enunciating the last word.
Before…before they met…before they touched…before they loved...
Did he really believe that? Could he erase her as if what they shared had never happened? Of course he could. He was Matt Brandon, King of the Uncommitted. What a fool she'd been. What a complete, ridiculous fool. She had to leave before there was nothing left but the tattered shreds of a woman who had once again chosen the wrong man to love.
Chapter 18
Matt paced the bedroom, one foot in front of the other, like he'd done for the past, what was it, hour or more? He had no idea what time it was. At midnight, disgusted with himself and his cowardice, he'd yanked his watch off and thrown it on the bed.
He should go to her and apologize for being such an ass these past few days. He could do that, couldn't he? And then he could say he'd treated her like dirt because he'd been so preoccupied with seeing Dr. Myers. A half truth, but a nice segue into what he really wanted to tell her.
The real truth.
He'd been miserable since their damned argument. And he missed her. Not just in bed, but in the routine course of every day. Silly things like fixing her coffee, a drop of cream with a hint of sugar, listening to her ooohh and aaahhh over Rosa's fried ice cream, feeling the strength of her fingers laced through his. But Sara would never guess that, not after the way he'd been treating her—like week-old leftovers headed for the garbage disposal.
If she'd had any doubt, he'd taken care of that when he slammed her in the elevator. In six months' time, we'll have our lives back, just like they were before. Who the hell was he kidding? His life would never be the same. Not since Sara.
And not without Sara.
He'd said the words to make her bleed, just as he was doing. Only, instead of giving him even a small modicum of satisfaction, it had made him feel worse, more the monster. Did she really believe he could go on as though she'd never happened? He hoped to God not.
He plowed his fingers through his hair and looked up at the ceiling in silent supplication. Light glared into his eyes. He blinked them shut. Damn, but he should be thrilled that brightness sliced into his black night several times a day. It was a reminder that one day soon he'd see much more than fuzzy blurs and flashing lights. He'd see everything with precision and clarity.
If only he could see his life that way, then he'd make the right decisions. For a man on the brink of regaining his sight, he'd never felt so out of focus, like he was swimming underwater with his eyes open.
Only one certainty pushed through the murky depths of his heart. He had needed Sara in the beginning to be his eyes, to give him courage and direction, to see without sight. But that was all changing, because soon he'd have his vision back and then he'd have to admit he still needed her. Before he could analyze his actions or the ramifications of them, he threw on a pair of shorts and headed toward the door.
***
The soft knock roused Sara from her sleep. Only one person would be at her bedroom door in the middle of the night. Maybe she should just tell him to go away.
“Sara?” Matt’s low voice reached her
, stroked her.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, flicked the bedside lamp on and padded to the door. What could he possibly have to say that could make any difference? I'm sorry? That wasn't a big phrase in his vocabulary. Or had he thought of another way to make her bleed and it was so good he couldn't wait until morning? Hadn't he done enough damage already? Hadn't he made certain he'd strangled the last bit of breath from their relationship?
“Sara?” The insistence in his voice made him sound almost desperate. Matt Brandon desperate? Hardly.
She grabbed the knob and opened the door.
“What do you want?” She tried to keep her voice steady but that proved especially challenging with him standing in front of her, bare-chested, hair rumpled from sleep or agitated fingers. But it was the look of vulnerability that got her. He stood there, hands at his sides, as if in defeat and said, “I'm tired of fighting.”
Her heart jumped. She beat it down. “So am I.”
He moved forward, reached out a hand, and stroked her cheek. “God, but I've missed you.”
“And I've missed you.” The words were out before she could stop them.
He reached for her then, took her in his strong arms, and found her mouth. Their kiss spoke of need and longing. And forgiveness. Sara wrapped her arms around his neck, flattened her body against his, feeling the beauty and power of the man. She needed to be with him one last time.
Matt took another step into the room and closed the door behind him.
“I've got to be inside you,” he rasped. “It's been too long.”
She answered him with a long, slow kiss. They began unbuttoning and removing clothing as they worked their way across the room. When they finally reached the bed, Matt eased her onto it and reached for the nightstand drawer. He pulled it open and dug around for a condom. Desire coursed through her as he ripped open the foil packet and fitted himself.
Matt plunged into her, filling her. She moved with him, pulled him closer. There were no sweet whispered endearments, no hushed murmurings. Only heat and sweat and need, wrapped in groans of pleasure. And in between it all, swirling in the final moments of release, there was forgiveness.
