by Lynn Cooper
“I’ll say it again, Gavin. You are not your father. Now go get Aviana. Help her, and let her help you to heal.”
I shake my head. “You’re telling me the solution to my sexual dysfunction is for me to fuck a blind girl?”
“Yes.”
“You’re fired,” I say, stomping out the door.
“You’ll be back,” she yells after me.
No I won’t, I vow silently.
I STEW ALL THE way to town. After forcing down a light lunch at my favorite café—my session with Dr. Lawson left me with little appetite—I make my way back to the Leif mansion.
Don’t worry, I have no intention of following her fucked-up advice. At least not the part about taking Aviana to bed. However, the part about helping her and offering her the mobility training she is in desperate need of appeals to me greatly. The poor thing looked so despairing this morning when I told her I was leaving.
I had every intention of giving her father the contact information to the Helen Keller Worldwide Organization and let him procure a coach for Aviana through them. But the more I’ve had time to think about it, the more I realize she needs someone on her side right now. Processing the paperwork via an outfit as large as that could take weeks, maybe months. Based on the experience I had with my grandmother, I know how important expediency is. The quicker the assistance, the better.
The wrought-iron gates to the mansion are gaping open, making me think someone else must have just left. A few hours ago, they were locked and had to be opened by guards to allow my entrance.
Driving through unencumbered, I follow the stone-paved circle leading to the front door and cut the ignition to my convertible Audi Cabriolet. As I open the driver’s door, I steel myself for an ensuing battle. Mander Leif is a man used to getting his own way. But when it comes to mobility training, it’ll be done on my terms in such a way that best benefits Aviana.
I wrap my knuckles hard against the front door and am immediately greeted by the wiry, grey-haired, bespectacled butler. He lets me in without any fuss. I guess I made a decent impression on him this morning.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Leif for a moment if possible,” I say, gazing at the winding, Cherrywood-finished stairway I know leads to Aviana’s bedroom.
“Master Leif and his wife are having a private discussion with Miss Aviana at present. Please make yourself comfortable,” he says, pointing toward an antique, English-style settee in the foyer. “I’ll ring her room on the intercom and let them know you are here.”
I have no idea where the intercom is located, but the butler disappears behind a swinging door that appears to be an entrance to the kitchen. Given the snail-like slowness of the man’s gait, I figure it’s going to be a few minutes. Just as I start to sit, I hear voices tinged with tension drifting down the stairs. The volume is growing considerably louder. Amongst them is the sound of Aviana’s sweet voice, and she seems to be in great distress.
Feeling like Cary Grant in Notorious, I swiftly and purposefully take the stairs two at a time. Even though I’m fairly certain Aviana is not literally being poisoned like Ingrid Bergman’s character was, she is nonetheless being subjected to her parents’ personal brand of toxicity.
As I make my way to Aviana’s room, I hear her father say, “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to throw a party for you after all.”
“Good,” Aviana snaps angrily. “I never wanted to be paraded out in front of a bunch of snobby idiots anyway.”
“They are not snobs, Cherub. They are perfectly-suitable suitors. At least they were. I just don’t think any young man in his right mind would be interested in taking a blind girl as his wife.”
“She’s blind and fat as a freight hog to boot. We should ship her off to some sort of institution or something. She is never going to find a rich, good-looking man to marry her now,” says a feminine voice I don’t recognize. I can’t imagine it belonging to Aviana’s demure nanny, Laura. It must be her wicked witch of a mother. Boy! Aviana wasn’t kidding about how mean the woman could be.
I can hear soft sobbing beneath those voices of cruelty, and it’s breaking my heart slam in two.
Bursting into the bedroom like a madman hell-bent on annihilating her atrocious parents, I march to Aviana’s bedside and scoop her up into my arms.
Giving Mander and his withered-up sod of a wife a go-straight-to-hell look, I say, “How dare the two of you speak to my fiancée that way!”
Aviana sniffles, buries her face against my chest and whispers, “You came back for me.”
“I did, and I’ll never leave you again.”
Mander pipes up, “So you’re taking me up on my offer. You’ll stay here and be my Cherub’s mobility coach?”
Unbelievable. The man is rattling on about a past conversation without even acknowledging the fact that I have claimed his daughter as my future wife. Holy hell! I’ve as good as proposed to Aviana. I must have caught whatever craziness has consumed this entire mansion. If it’s possible for a person to blindside themselves, I’ve just done it. I came here to teach the beautiful young woman in my arms how to survive as a visually-impaired person in a sighted world, not to marry her. This was not part of the plan.
Aviana’s mother sniffs disdainfully, pulling me out of my thoughts. Glassy-eyed, she looks at her husband. “Who is this Neanderthal holding our daughter?”
“Rosaline, dear, this is Mr. Gavin Winslow. He’s the romance writer I told you about on the car ride home from the airport.”
She lolls her head to side. “Oh, yes. The one who is responsible for poor Aviana’s blindness. We should most definitely sue him.”
“Sue him?” Mander scoffs. “Why would we do that? He’s going to teach our daughter how to move about and take care of herself.”
“Sounds like the only thing he is going to teach her is how to satisfy his selfish, sexual desires under the guise of this abrupt, shoddy engagement. If it were legitimate, he would be offering up a huge diamond ring.”
I clear my throat and swear inwardly it will be the last time I do it. “I wouldn’t dream of purchasing an engagement ring without Aviana’s input. She should pick out the one she wants.”
“How can my daughter possibly choose a ring when she cannot see?”
I clench my jaw in an effort to contain my temper. “She can feel, Mrs. Leif. She can use her sense of touch to trace the contours of the band, to decide on the shape of diamond she prefers. If what she wants can’t be found, I will have a ring made especially for her.”
Aviana raises her head from my chest, gives me a look of pure gratitude and says, “You would really do something so sweet and grand for me?”
“Yes. If you can describe it, my jeweler friend can design it. You will have the ring of your dreams.”
“Oh, Gavin,” she gushes, “you are the most romantic man alive.”
I smile and cuddle her closer despite the distasteful situation we are currently in. I want to respond to her declaration, but any further acts of affection will have to wait until she and I are alone. The most important thing now is to get her out of this mansion.
Having no interest in speaking to Aviana’s mother, I turn my focus on her father. “Mr. Leif, I—”
He holds up his index finger to stop me and says, “Call me Mander. Any man willing to help my Cherub should call me by my first name.”
“In that case, Mander, I am going to do far more than help your daughter. I’m going to save her from you and your horrid wife, rescue her from this viper pit full of venom, take her home with me and give her all the love and kindness, affection and understanding she needs and deserves.”
As I turn on my heel to leave the room, Aviana tightens her hold around my neck. I take a step, and her father bellows, “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m Gavin Winslow, also known as your daughter’s knight in shining armor.”
“You have no right to take my child! I forbid her to marry you. I forbid her to leave this
mansion.”
I’m losing patience with these people and fast. Through gritted teeth, I growl, “Aviana is a grown woman. She does not need your consent to marry me. She does not need your permission to leave this place. And I sure as hell don’t.”
When I start to walk away this time, no one tries to stop me. When we near the top of the stairs, Aviana squirms in my arms. “I can walk out of here under my own power, you know.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to set me down?”
“No.”
“But I must be getting heavy. You heard my mother. I’m a big fat freight hog.”
“You’re light as a feather. Carrying you is my privilege and my pleasure.”
She sighs. “I’m going to be the best wife ever. I promise. You won’t regret this.”
“I’m sure I won’t, but you might.”
She shakes her head. “Never.”
“Never is a long-ass time.”
Chapter Seven
Aviana Leif
I SHOULD HAVE GUESSED Gavin would own a convertible. It’s no wonder his thick, chestnut-brown hair always has a sexy, messy look in his author photos.
Cruising down the open road with the wind whipping through the long locks of my own less-than-perfect hair is heaven on earth. Never in my entire life have I ever felt so free.
I’m sure any other newly-blind person would be lamenting the inability to see their surroundings right now, but not me. I’m too busy basking in the sun on my skin and inhaling the fresh air infused with the scent of freshly-cut grass. If I still had my sight, I probably wouldn’t pay any attention to the sound of rustling leaves on the breeze or the low, hypnotic humming of the car’s engine or the constant chirping of birds as we drive away from my neighborhood. Away from all the criticism and cruelty. Away from all the hurt feelings and heartache. Those things are behind me now, blessedly disappearing in the rearview mirror as Gavin and I travel toward a future filled with happiness.
The external noises are too loud for us to carry on a conversation; but the moment we pull into his driveway and he helps me out of the car, my future husband begins talking to me as if we’re old friends instead of two people who met less than twenty-four hours ago and who literally got engaged less than twenty-four minutes ago.
“I put a down payment on this two-story, A-frame house with my first book advance,” he says proudly.
That’s another thing I’m noticing about being blind. I can actually hear and identify feelings like pride or other emotions from the inflections of a person’s voice.
He places his hand at the small of my back and continues. “The outside is wood. I love how the architect used a bevel siding design to reflect our rustic surroundings. The overlapping boards are natural, weather-roughened slabs and blend seamlessly into the thirty acres of forest behind the house.”
Resting my hand on his sculpted abs, I can feel a well-defined six-pack rippling beneath my fingertips. My voice sounds breathy when I ask, “Do we have any neighbors?”
“Just one. My grandmother lives in a little cottage across the pond. I had it built for her when I moved out here. It’s a simple structure that embodies certain features to accommodate her blindness. She is as independent as the day is long, but I feel better knowing she’s close by.”
“You’re a good grandson.”
“I try to be,” he says, pulling me closer and kissing the top of my head.
This gentle display of affection causes me to jump a little. I’m not used to being loved on by anyone. Immediately, I become embarrassed and self-conscious. I feel his body tense by my side.
“I’m sorry, Aviana. Did I startle you?”
“Please don’t apologize. I never won’t you to regret touching me. I’m the one who’s sorry. I mean, I want us to be a couple, but—”
“What?”
“I don’t really know how to be in a romantic relationship. I’ve never had a real-life boyfriend before.”
He chuckles. “Does that mean you’ve had imaginary ones?”
I blush. “Sort of. I—I’ve had lots of book boyfriends. In fact, I have fallen head-over-heels in love with every hero you’ve ever written.”
He takes my shoulders and turns me toward the sound of his voice. I think it’s sweet he wants to face me and make eye contact even though I can’t see him.
His tone is soft but serious. “Are you a virgin, Aviana?”
Immediately, I hang my head in shame. “No.”
“I don’t understand. If you’ve never had a boyfriend, how could you—”
“I had sex with Landon, my bodyguard.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. It was just the one time. He walked in on me in the pool house while I was changing into my bathing suit and—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Maybe not, but I want you to know what happened. It was nearly dark outside. I was going for my usual nighttime swim beneath the stars. Whenever I was playing in the pool, I felt more carefree and less like my father’s prisoner,” I say, sighing. “Anyway, for once, Landon was acting nice and vulnerable instead of annoying and arrogant. And as always, I was feeling extremely lonely. We kissed. One thing led to another. He wasn’t a good lover at all. He went really fast, and I wasn’t ready for him. The whole thing was awkward and painful.”
“But you didn’t tell him to slow down or stop.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
I shudder at Gavin’s angry tone. “Don’t be mad. I promise you the sex meant nothing to me. Landon means nothing to me. If I had thought for a single second you and I would someday meet and get engaged, I would have waited. I would have saved myself for you.”
He growls, “You misunderstand me. I’m not upset because you gave your virginity to a selfish prick. I’m pissed off because you didn’t speak up for yourself. You didn’t stop him when he was hurting you. You didn’t tell him you needed more stimulation or time or whatever the fuck else you needed.”
“I didn’t stop him because it wasn’t a big deal. Landon only lasted for a few thrusts, and then it was over. I don’t know what else to say, Gavin.”
He cups my cheek, and I can feel his hand tremble. “Say you’ll never stay quiet again when something or someone is hurting you. Say you’ll protect yourself at all costs. Say you’ll stop me if I ever do anything you dislike. Promise me right now, Aviana.”
I nod. “I promise, but where’s all of this coming from?”
“From a place I’m not ready to talk about yet. We should go inside and get you settled into your new home. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving. I kind of missed lunch.”
“Kind of?”
“I actually dumped it all over the floor in a fit of frustration. Eating blind is a lot harder than I thought.”
“Not to worry. I have some tried-and-true tricks that will have you eating with ease in no time flat.”
“Wonderful,” I say, feeling an immense amount of relief.
Chapter Eight
Gavin Winslow
I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M sitting across the kitchen table from the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on. Aviana Leif is the epitome of beauty. I can only hope she will still want to marry me when I muster the courage to tell her I’m a 28-year-old virgin and why.
She smiles, and it’s like the first ray of sunshine bursting through the sky on a cloudy day. “This food smells delicious, Gavin. I can’t wait to dig in.”
“Then don’t. Let’s eat,” I say, returning her smile and wishing like hell she could see my face. If she could, she would have no doubt about how happy I am she is here. How I wish we were sharing this meal with a leisurely ease and not as her first official lesson in navigating blindness.
She bites her lower lip and says, “I’m really nervous. I—”
“Don’t want to spill your drink. Drop food on yourself or the floor. Look or feel foolish in front of the man you
plan to marry.”
“Bingo! How did you know?”
“What you’re thinking and feeling is perfectly natural. Every task you undertake is a leap of faith. Moving about in this world is hard enough when you can see what’s right in front of you. It’s harder and scarier than hell when you can’t.”
“Tell me about it,” she says, taking a deep breath. The rise and fall of her bountiful breasts sucks all the air from my lungs.
“Okay, I will. From here on out, I want you to think of your plate as a wall clock.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s round, and the mental image gives you a visual guide from which to start and finish. For instance, you’ll find the lightly-breaded veal covered in a spicy marinara sauce and gooey mozzarella cheese at three o’clock. The twice-baked potato with melted butter, sour cream and chives sits at six o’clock. The steamed asparagus drizzled in hollandaise sauce is at nine o’clock, and the slice of warm, fresh French bread rests at the top of the plate at twelve o’clock.”
She nods and swallows hard. Truthfully, I feel nervous for her. This isn’t my first rodeo. First hand, I have seen the simplest task turn into a monumental struggle for someone who is visually impaired.
My grandmother handled her challenges with a tremendous amount of grace and humor. But she was much older than Aviana when she went blind. There’s a huge difference in how a person reacts to tragedy when they have a little age on them versus how they handle things as a teenager.
“I like the wall-clock tip. Do you have any special trick for finding my mouth once I load up this fork?” she asks, feeling for the utensil.
“Your flatware will always be located about three inches to the right of your plate,” I tell her, watching her tentatively choose the shorter-pronged salad fork with trembling fingers and slowly move it toward her plate.
The hardest thing about instructing someone with a disability is fighting back the urge to take over and do everything for them. Human beings have a built-in wiring, sparking a natural need to help, but letting a person do for themselves is the best help one can offer.
