The More I See

by Mondello, Lisa

  He opened the stall and walked inside, and her heart leaped to her throat. This is what she was trained to do, help people get along with their normal lives, but clearly Cody didn't need any help at all here—especially from her—to do what was completely bred in him. She suspected then, that much of what was keeping him back was his inability to see a normal life again.

  She groaned inwardly, thinking about the conversation she'd had with Catherine. Cody Gentry was a tough cookie, but one that needed special attention, and she was just tenacious enough to give him what he needed.

  Somehow Lyssa doubted that. Cody didn't need anything at all from her. Greeting Sassy, watching him search the rail for the blanket to place over the horse's back, made her forget for a split second that Cody had lost his vision. It spoke of a man not searching in the darkness, but of one sure of his step, confident of his place in the world. And she had to admire that.

  No, Cody didn't need her out here at all. Everything he did need was locked up inside himself. Maybe this was the key to help him unlock the door.

  Getting on the back of Smokin' Diesel E proved more comical than difficult, Lyssa discovered. And when she finally got the hang of holding the reins and leading a horse that clearly didn't need any direction from her, her nerves settled into a somewhat slow and steady pace.

  Thankfully, so had the horses and she found herself actually enjoying the ride across the ranch. Cody had said they were taking a trail well-traveled, which relieved Lyssa considerably. If they somehow got lost on their way back, she wasn't going to be much help. Her sense of direction was good, but with all the twists and turns the path took, she had to admit she'd lost her bearings.

  Cody, on the other hand, just allowed Sweet Sassy's Smile to lead him along the trail as if it was a route they'd taken a thousand times. Which they probably had, Lyssa decided, as she watched how little guidance Cody gave the horse.

  "Let me know when we get to the open pasture," he said. "It should be just as we take a sharp turn at the end of the trail."

  Sure enough, the trail they'd been riding on ended and opened up into a wide pasture.

  Her mouth flew agape. "How on earth did you know where we were?"

  Cody just grinned. "I've been riding this trail since I was old enough to sit in the saddle on my own." A soft chuckle escaped his lips and she felt something inside her shift in place, stealing her breath away. "And Sassy always gets a little excited when we get to this point, too.

  There's a nice stream here with some good grass for grazing. There should be a huge cottonwood with branches that jut out like bony arms in all directions, sitting right about center in this pasture."

  It was unmistakable. The enormous cottonwood commanded its place in the middle of the field. There were herds of cattle in different scatterings in the grass. Some clustered by a winding stream, and some huddled together in the only shade available, under a lone tree out in the field.

  "If you're ready to take a break, we can stop there a while. Stretch your legs," Cody said.

  It was none too soon for Lyssa. They hadn't really been riding all that long, but already her backside was going numb and her thighs were beginning to ache.

  They rode to the cottonwood and dismounted. Cody waited until Lyssa had two feet

  firmly planted on the ground and walked Diesel alongside Sassy.

  He loosely secured the reins to the saddle horn and gave a quick little swat to Sassy's behind. Diesel pulled against the reins, intending to follow Sassy.

  "Tie the reins up to the saddle horn," Cody said. "This is a good place for them to get some water and graze while we sit a bit."

  The temperature difference was marked as Lyssa moved from under the scorching sun into the shade of the cottonwood tree and dropped to the cool grass. Following the sound of her movement on the hard ground, Cody walked behind her and sat on the ground, a good three feet away. Conversationally close, Lyssa realized, but not intimate.

  "It's been a long time since I've been out here," he said, his voice a little distant, as if he were lost somewhere else instead of with her. For a moment, she wasn't sure he was even talking to her.

  "It's beautiful," she said, looking out into the pasture, taking in the green and sparkle of light from the sun off the stream. Animals were contently grazing as if there was nothing else in the world but them.

  "Yeah, it's always been."

  "But," she said, forcing the word she knew he was about to say.

  "Things have changed."

  "Not as much as you think, Cody. Not the core of you. That's still the same."

  Despite the sunglasses and the Stetson Cody wore, she could see the tight knit of his brow. "You really believe that?"

  "You're just afraid. I don't blame you. Change is never easy for anyone."

  "You got your eyesight back."

  The way Cody spoke the words, it was as if that made all the difference in the world. And maybe to him it did. But Lyssa knew differently.

  "Yeah, I did. But even as wonderful as that is, it wasn't easy. And if you think about it, change, good or bad, is never easy for anyone. Every single day, people get married or divorced and start over. They go off to school, change careers, move across the country, and they're scared as hell. No one is immune.

  "Everyone has this place inside them that they lock up all their fears, all the things about them that they're afraid to show to the world."

  "I don't."

  She couldn't help but smirk. "Sure. Even a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy like you has fears and you're staring at them now."

  He stiffened.

  "Yeah, and that's the scariest part," she went on, not allowing him to deny it. "When you can walk around sure of yourself, you never have to worry about that little box in your soul. You hide it, you nurture it, you may even rage against it sometimes when you're alone. Because it's yours. No one else gets to see it. All those things about yourself that make you uncomfortable, the things about you that you're so sure make you ... unlovable ... live there in that little box."

  "Really," he said dryly.

  She ignored his sarcasm and leaned back with her arms behind her, letting the shade of the tree cool her warmed skin.

  "But when you can't see, suddenly it's like everyone around you can see what's there deep inside that locked box you've been hiding in your soul. All those things you fear people will judge against you."

  "You mean, like not picking up your dirty socks for three weeks."

  "Oh, that's disgusting," Lyssa said, laughing. "No, not those little superficial things. It's the things that make you vulnerable. The things that you've convinced yourself no one could possibly love you for. But you know what the greatest thing about love is, the people that love you don't see those things you fear the same way. They don't matter to them the way they do to you."

  "What does this have to do with me?"

  "Maybe nothing. I don't know, I guess I'm not explaining myself real well. I've never been really good at that." Her shoulders sagged.

  "No, it sounds real pretty. I just don't know why you're telling me. I mean, I pick up my dirty socks."

  Lyssa laughed again, grabbed a fistful of grass from the ground, and tossed it at Cody. He flinched slightly when the blades hit his face and then brushed them off with a chuckle.

  "I'm sure Isadore comes in behind your back and picks up your dirty socks for you."

  "Hell, no, she'd beat me with a bat if I ever expected that. Come on, Lyssa, admit it.

  You're really a slob, right?"

  She laughed again. "No, quite the opposite, I'm afraid. I'm very compulsively organized, but that comes more from conditioning than personality. If even a hairbrush was out of place on my dresser, it used to drive me crazy because I knew it would take me forever to find it. My sister, Kim, used to rearrange my stuff all the time."

  He gasped in mock horror. "I'll bet you wouldn't even dare walk into a store through the OUT door."

  "Of course not. D
o have any idea how hard it would be for blind people if everyone did that?"

  "I don't know. A little spontaneous dancing in the doorway with you might be kind of fun."

  Lyssa gave up and just let the laughter take hold of her until her belly hurt. "Oh, you really are as impossible as your father warned."

  "I pride myself on that."

  "I'm sure you do."

  Cody was quiet a moment. If she didn't know he was blind, she'd have assumed he was looking out into the pasture and losing himself in the beauty that surrounded them. But Lyssa knew that wasn't the case even before he heaved a slow sigh.

  "You're right, you know," he said, his voice quiet against the rush of breeze through the trees. "I don't like what I've become. I can't see what I want to see, and what I do see I don't like."

  "Only you can change that."

  "I can't unless this next surgery works."

  "With or without the surgery you're still the same man."

  Lyssa would have missed the almost imperceptible shake of Cody's head if she hadn't been staring at him the way she was.

  "Different. I don't... know who I am. I've been working this ranch since I was a kid, doing things, I don't know, because that's the way it is. And I didn't go looking for something else. I like what I have here. I just don't know where I fit in here anymore."

  "I know this sounds simplistic, but just because you can't look into the mirror and see your reflection doesn't mean it isn't there. You're not invisible."

  He swallowed, licked his lips, and turned a fraction of an inch away from her gaze. "I don't know what's there. That's just the point."

  He was uncomfortable. Lyssa guessed that was about as much as Cody would reach out to anyone to ask for a hand. She would offer him both of hers and let him decide just how much he could handle. And she would be honest. He deserved to hear the truth.

  "Your life is different, I'll give you that. But you're not. The core of who you are hasn't changed. Every value you've had, every goal is the same. You just need to redefine it. Make it work for you now. And you can do that and be happy."

  "Were you happy?"

  She shook her head and chose her words carefully before she spoke. "You can't really compare the two of us. Our situations are so different. I didn't have the same kind of expectations you have. I simply didn't know anything else. I took what I had and made my life right from the beginning. There was no loss to mourn."

  "You think that's what I'm doing?"

  "Yes. It's quite common. If you'd opened yourself up to the counseling available—"

  Cody groaned and shifted uncomfortably.

  Undaunted, Lyssa went on. "You could have worked with people who would have helped you and your family adjust. Lots of people who've become blind as adults do well."

  "Doesn't make me feel good to be part of that statistic."

  "You're not a statistic, Cody. You're a man. And you need to start looking at yourself that way again. Otherwise, you'll be stuck sitting in a chair for the rest of your life."

  He was quiet for a moment, about to say something, hesitating and then retreating. It took a while and she waited.

  "I don't want to be a cripple."

  "Is that how you see yourself?"

  "Don't you?"

  "No."

  His jaw tightened. "Everyone else around me does."

  She closed her eyes, knowing that it was true to some degree. "They won't stop until you do."

  When he didn't say anything further, she went on.

  "You trust your horse. Why can't you trust Otis? He can give you so much more of your life back."

  "It's not the same thing. When I'm riding, I'm free. I'm not someone who needs anyone else. I'm not wearing this big sign that says 'Watch out for the blind man.' " His heavy sigh echoed his obvious frustration. "Having a guide dog will just make me look ..."

  "What?"

  "I don't know. Less of a man, I guess." His laugh was harsh and filled with contempt. She wasn't quite sure for what. "I guess I'm egotistical enough to want to be able to stand on my own two feet."

  "Ego has nothing to do with it. And Otis can help you achieve what you want. It has to be better than what you've been going through. I just don't understand why you won't at least give it a try."

  "I don't need him. It would be a waste of both his time and yours. This next transplant is going to work."

  Lyssa clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip, her own frustration getting the better of her.

  "I hope it does, Cody. I really do. The advances in eye surgery have been tremendous these last few years. But I know the percentage of corneal transplants that take successfully after a burn like yours is only about five to eight percent, and you've already had one rejection. Aren't you afraid of setting yourself up for even bigger disappointments by not facing even the possibility of what you'll do if this next surgery doesn't work?"

  "No," Cody said resolutely.

  "Then you're not being very realistic. Or fair to yourself."

  "Life isn't fair, in case you haven't noticed."

  "No, it's not. But you can at least be fair to yourself even when life throws you a curve."

  "What do you look like?" he asked, pulling at the grass clippings that formed a soft blanket on the ground around them.

  Thrown by his abrupt change of subject, she said, "Why do you ask?"

  He shrugged. "Curiosity, I guess. When I talk to most people, even my doctor, who I met years before losing my vision, I have a picture in my head of what they look like. Even if I can't see them, there is something to call up from my memory. I think I can pretty much figure out what Otis looks like."

  Lyssa smirked. "He's much more beautiful than the average dog."

  "I'll take your word for it. And I'll bet he's a hell of a kisser, but I'm going to take your word on that too. With you, though, I can't make a picture. It's like a blank slate."

  "Well, there you go. I'm a faceless person sent out here to drive you crazy."

  That earned her a laugh. A real one that seemed to bubble up from his belly right out into the wind. He had a nice laugh. She wondered if it was something the rest of his family missed hearing from him these last few months.

  "I gotta tell you, I'm spending a huge amount of time wondering what you look like."

  "You've had some time on your hands, I'll give you that."

  Cody groaned. "Too much. I don't like that." His complaint was one of frustration, Lyssa knew. Without knowing Cody all that much, she'd already deduced that he had never been a man to sit idle before the accident. Not if he could help it. Most of what she'd seen on the ranch Cody had had some hand in the making. All this excess time must be driving him more crazy than she ever could.

  She shifted to make herself more comfortable in the grass, tucking her legs up underneath her. Although she had no idea how she could get comfortable in this conversation.

  "Does it really matter what I look like?" Deep down, Lyssa knew that it did. She'd seen firsthand the moment her eyes opened up to the world, being able to see reaction rather than just sense it. She had forgiven Chad a long time ago for falling for Kim.

  And her sister, how could she fault her for being born with the beautiful gene? Somehow in the massive mix of gene distribution, Kim had been blessed with thick, flowing blond hair, enormous blue eyes, and a face with natural beauty that required absolutely no care. Kim transformed a pair of baggy sweatpants into runway fashion in a way Lyssa could only envy.

  There were times when Lyssa would look in the mirror and catch the clear blue,

  nondescript eyes, straight, sandy blond hair, and simple features, and wonder how the random distribution of genes had passed her by so unfairly. She wasn't ugly by any stretch. She just wasn't beautiful.

  She knew it shouldn't matter. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder. But she also knew it did matter to some people. It had mattered to Chad.

  Lyssa quietly sighed and decided to stop thinking about Chad and what she l
acked in life.

  She'd long ago learned to stuff those feelings into her own secret box and hide them away. It was much more crippling to let them win.

  She had been blessed with something much more important in life. She got her vision back. What else could compare to that?

  "It's no big deal, really," Cody was saying. "Like I said, I was just wondering. I mean, I can't imagine how you did it. Didn't you ever wonder what people looked like? What colors were? That must have been incredible, you know, the first time you opened your eyes and saw the world. I can't imagine it."

  Lyssa shrugged. "It was pretty amazing." The heady feeling she'd initially felt that first day enveloped her again with the memory. "I didn't remember ever seeing before the accident."

  "So you weren't born blind?"

  "No, like you, I had an accident. Unfortunately, my father was killed. My real father, that is. Mom remarried when I was a little over three years old and all I remember growing up was my stepdad."

  Nathan Jones had never adopted her, although Lyssa had never seen the need. She was his daughter in every way that counted. But there were times she wondered why he hadn't adopted her. When she was twelve years old, she had asked her mother about it. She couldn't see her mother's face, but sensed the sudden, subtle, sadness in the tone of her voice. Her mother had truly loved Lyssa's real dad. She explained that allowing her stepdad to adopt Lyssa would be like taking away the precious gift Brian McElhannon had given her, erasing his very existence.

  When Lyssa could finally see, she'd sifted through boxes of baby pictures and photo albums and looked at her biological father's face for the first time. She looked exactly like him, and she finally understood.

  "What was the first thing you saw?"

  Lyssa smiled. "My mother. My vision didn't come back all at once. There were several surgeries over a period of time. I remember it starting out as a haze and then things slowly came into view. I knew my mother's voice so well, but I was stunned by her face and how beautiful she was. I remember staring at her for the longest time and then my sister, then my dad. Although by the time I got to my dad I had so many tears in my eyes I couldn't see much of anything."