Home Before Dark (29 page)

“Fantastico,”
Arnufo added. “But not nearly as fantastic as winning a great prize. Congratulations. Felicitations.”

Luz beamed at him. “Thank you for noticing.”

“Noticing what?” Wyatt held out his plate for seconds. “My Endicott.”

Owen leaned back in his chair, inspecting her with narrowed eyes. “Where?”

Luz shook her head. “I give up.”

She and Arnufo shared a private smile. She had learned much about the old gentleman in the past few months. He understood the demands and rewards of having a large, busy family, and the virtues of patience and forbearance. Privately she decided to tell Ian her news that night, and the kids whenever she got a chance.

But she never got the chance. The phone rang in the middle of dinner, and it wasn't the business line. Most of the kids' friends respected the dinner hour. Luz picked up, fully prepared to remind the caller of that particular house rule.

“Hello?” There was a beat of hesitation, characteristic of overseas calls. Luz's heart leaped. Finally her sister had decided to call.

“Jessie, it's Simon. God, it's so good to hear your voice.”

Frowning, Luz took the cordless phone away from the noisy dinner table. Stepping out on the front porch, she said, “This is Luz, Jessie's sister. Simon? Where you calling from?”

“I'm in Auckland. You sound exactly like your sister,” he replied in the gorgeous accent that had so charmed his students when he was a visiting professor at UT. “Can I speak with Jessie, then?”

A familiar, protective prickle touched the back of Luz's neck. According to Jessie, she and Simon had parted ways. So what did he want with her? Luz decided to hedge. “She's not here at the moment. Is it urgent?”

That beat of hesitation again. “Not at all. I wondered…how she was getting on these days. Things were not going well when she left here, as I'm sure you realize.”

Luz pursed her lips. She knew, and yet she didn't know. She was aware that Jessie and Simon had been together off and on for years, that Simon was one of the reasons Jessie had given up Lila and taken off overseas. Yet Luz had never known the precise nature of their relationship. Did they love each other? Could Jessie love anyone enough to stay? Which one of them had done the breaking up? Jessie or Simon?

Luz felt exasperated. She wished Jessie was not so intensely private about her relationships. Weighing her words, she said, “She didn't say much about that, Simon. Just that the two of you had broken up. I'm sorry,” she added belatedly.

“So am I,” he admitted. “I miss her like mad.”

Then you shouldn't have let her go, thought Luz. Then she realized she'd done that, too, more than once. She'd let Jessie go.

“She gave me the boot, not the other way around,” Simon continued. “I don't care what she told you. That's what happened.”

Hearing the waver of emotion in his voice, Luz decided to believe him. On some level, she'd known all along who had done the leaving. “I see.”

“So then, did she get in touch with Dr. Margutti?” Simon asked. “Is she enrolled in the program?”

Now Luz was thoroughly confused. Dropping all pretense, she said, “Back up, Simon. You lost me there. Doctor who?”

This time, the hesitation was even tenser. Then he said,
“She didn't— Ah, Christ, didn't she—” He cleared his throat and started again. “She didn't explain this to you?”

“I think you'd better fill me in, Simon.”

The long hiss of an exhaled breath conveyed frustration. “She went to the States to consult with a specialist about her condition and to take part in a special program. I've been going crazy, hoping to hear there's been a miracle. And then, today I did an Internet search and caught a piece from
Texas Life
magazine on the Web. I saw those photographs she did of the young father. It made me hope to God that she's all right.”

Luz sank down to the top step of the porch. The phone receiver slid in her damp hand. Despite the chill of the winter evening, she was drenched in the cold sweat of fear. “Simon, you're going to have to clarify some things to me.” Her mind flipped through the nightmare possibilities: cancer, multiple sclerosis, HIV, Parkinson's… “Jessie was here with me for a while, and she seemed fine.”

Yet she'd left every piece of camera equipment, and photography had been her life.

Luz forced herself to go on. “Are you saying she's sick?”

“Dear God, didn't she tell you? Luz, your sister has a heart of stone.”

“What was she keeping from me?”

“I'm sure she had her reasons for not telling you, but I think you deserve to know.”

Luz felt an inner quaking as the edges of her world began to crumble and fall away. “Say it, Simon. You have to tell me.”

“Luz, your sister is going blind.”

Jessie got lost on her way to group therapy. “I swear, Flambeau, you're a blonde under all that silky red hair. You're not fooling a soul.” She began the tedious process of orienting herself and discovered that they had missed a turn and wound up a block west of their destination. Using the techniques she had been studying for interminable weeks, she got her bearings and started off again.

She and Flambeau arrived at the meeting several minutes late. She murmured an apology and directed Flambeau to pick a seat in the now-familiar classroom. Flambeau managed to thrust one chair aside, but Jessie smacked into another and cursed between her teeth.

The group session leader cleared his throat. “We'll just wait while Jessie finds her place.”

Jessie felt as though she was in junior high again. “We'll just wait…” she muttered under her breath. “Very funny, Mr. Sullivan.” Addressing the whole room, she said, “It's Flambeau, I swear. They're playing a cruel joke on me. They gave me an Irish setter instead of the golden retriever they promised.”

In the brief ripples of laughter, she recognized the voices of some of the friends she had made. Actually she wasn't sure she should count them as friends. The relationships formed at the Beacon would never exist if they weren't all blind.

Sully greeted everyone and welcomed two newcomers— Bonnie and Duvall. “Can someone tell us why we're all gathered here for our first meeting?” he asked.

“Too much masturbation,” replied Remy, another recent graduate. “We shoulda listened to our mothers.”

Sully spoke over more laughter. “Jessie, did you do the readings for today?”

“You mean all that Wordsworth crap about the contentment of the inner self? Yeah, I read it. Or rather, Hal read it to me.” Hal was her nickname for the adaptive reading software on her computer.

The woman beside her was nervous. Jessie could tell by her quick breathing and timid silence, and the unfamiliar new fragrance of her cologne. Leaning over, she whispered, “Jessie Ryder and Flambeau, the wonder dog. You must be Bonnie Long.”

“That's me.”

So this was the woman she'd come to meet. New students were paired with more experienced ones at the beginning of their stay. Jessie couldn't believe she was expected to be someone's mentor, of all things. She didn't consider herself capable of mentoring an insect, let alone a blind person. Yet at the Beacon, they expected the impossible of everyone. “Welcome to blind boot camp.”

“Jessie recently completed the program,” Sully explained. “I have no idea why we let her come back. We should have kicked her out on her ass.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Despite her wise-cracking tone, she felt a familiar jolt of terror. Lowering her
hand to Flambeau's head, she stroked her fingers through the dog's silky fur. After completing the residential program at the Beacon for the Blind, she'd moved to a nearby apartment. Most clients were eager to rejoin their families and resume their lives.

Jessie recoiled at the thought of going to Luz after all the turmoil she'd caused. She was determined to make some sort of life for herself. She'd dedicated each waking moment to that goal, and was often amazed to realize it was working. With Flambeau, she wasn't afraid of the world. She was adept at talk-and touch-typing and had no doubt she could earn a living. She was out in the world on her own, living independently. A Beacon success story, a veritable poster child for living with a disability.

But she was desperately lonely. Each day, her yearning for Dusty and Amber, Luz and Lila, grew sharper rather than dulling, as she'd hoped.

“Nice,” said Sully. “Jessie, why don't you tell the group why you'd characterize the experience as boot camp?”

“Well, let's see. Maybe it was that rigorous battery of physical and psychological tests we're subjected to prior to enrollment.”

“Now that you've been through the program, do you see the rationale for that?”

She addressed herself to Bonnie by turning in her direction. “Believe it or not, there is a rationale. You're up at 5:45 a.m. to curb your dog, then you have to feed her, shower and go to breakfast by seven. You'll spend the whole day walking miles of Austin's streets, doing errands, trying not to trip and run into things or fall down stairs. There's a break for lunch and dinner, but we're not back here until final curb duty at 8:00 p.m. Oh, and in between, we'll have life skills, like cooking,
talk typing, adaptive reading, learning Braille, laundry, you name it. So anyway, all that takes a bit of stamina.”

“I understand. I'm not a young woman, but I've worked all my life and I might as well work on this.”

“Excellent,” Sully said. “Now, what about the psychological tests?”

“They won't just give a dog to anyone who stumbles in off the street,” Jessie assured her. “The fact is, if you're an asshole before you're blind, there's a chance you'll simply become a blind asshole.”

“Delicately put,” remarked Sully. “Blind people, like everyone else, come in all shapes, sizes and attitudes. If they hate dogs, if they're cruel, they'll fail with the dog. It wastes everybody's time, makes the Beacon look bad and frustrates the dog no end.”

Reaching out, Jessie patted Bonnie's arm and wasn't surprised to feel a hand knit sweater. “You'll be fine. Sometimes I suspect the success of this program is due to the fact that they reject everybody who'll make them look bad.”

“Oh, sure,” said Sully. “Then why did we accept you?”

“Because I look like Gwyneth Paltrow, only younger. Slimmer. Blonder.”

“When you're blind,” said Patrick, a longtime resident, “all women look like Gwyneth Paltrow.”

“You're supposed to be explaining boot camp,” Sully reminded them. “Patrick, what else is in store for our guests?”

“You get a drill-sergeant-type lecture,” Patrick said. “Y'all got that, right?”

“The bit about buttering your own bread and cutting your own meat?” asked Duvall.

“Yeah. That's the one. And if you complain that you've never done any of this stuff on your own, they tell you it's
about time you started. They'll let you get lost in the halls, put your shirt on backward and miss meals.”

“Sounds harsh.”

“Going blind is harsh. But not as harsh as giving up. The staff here believe we can do this stuff. And so we do.”

At the end of the meeting, Jessie offered Bonnie her arm and grasped Flambeau's halter. “Ever heard of the blind leading the blind?”

“I trust you.” A smile warmed the older woman's voice. As they left the day lounge and headed out to the sharp chill air of morning, Jessie recognized the hesitation and faltering steps she herself had exhibited in the early part of her training. Totally blinded by occluders, she'd taken her first steps here in a rage of frustration. Before long, she didn't need to occlude her sight artificially. Her vision had deteriorated as rapidly as Dr. Margutti had predicted, and the day she had awakened to find herself sightless, she'd been terrified. That first walk, from her bed to the bathroom, had been an act of will, the first steps along a journey she dreaded.

“Listen, I'm glad to have a woman for my sponsor,” Bonnie said in a confiding voice. “I forgot to pack a very important necessity.”

“Tampons, right?”

“Yep.”

“Not a problem,” Jessie said. “We're well-stocked.” She led the way to the ladies' lounge in the classroom building. “One of our first lessons is getting the proper supplies for this.” She'd done the shopping excursion, but had yet to get her period. It was common to be irregular after going off the Pill. But if her cycle didn't start up soon, she'd see a doctor about it.

“Thanks,” said Bonnie, then tripped on the threshold of the bathroom.

Jessie put out a hand to steady her, and felt Bonnie shaking.
“Don't worry about a thing. I was a total klutz my first week here,” she told her. “More than once, they found me crumpled on the floor, lost and sobbing, usually with a bruise or two to prove my incompetence. They showed no sympathy. The first time Sully found me like that, he offered to alert the media to let them know the world was coming to an end.”

“You seem so sure of yourself now,” said Bonnie.

Jessie felt a flush of wonder. “I do?”

“Yes.”

Amazed by the compliment, Jessie showed her the facility—the sensory training rooms, spoken word rooms, obstacle studios, kitchens, gardens. Bonnie's hopes and fears were familiar. She was horrified by being here, yet determined to succeed.

“I have to gain back my confidence, too,” she said. “My family needs this as much as I do. After the accident, I pretty much gave up on life. I sat in the house and hid from the world. Medication helped, but what I really need is to be independent and unafraid once again. Not only for myself, but for my kids and grandkids, and especially for my husband.”

“I'm sorry, Bonnie. I thought your husband was killed in the accident.” Jessie had gone over the files on the computer. She was quite sure of that detail.

“My first husband,” Bonnie said with a small hitch in her voice. “I married Roy six months ago.”

“Now this I've got to hear.”

“Got your attention, didn't I?”

Jessie couldn't get over the idea of a sighted person falling for a blind woman.

“Is he— I mean—”

“He's sighted. I thought he was pulling my leg at first,” Bonnie said, clearly sensing her surprise. “I couldn't imagine why he'd want me, when I couldn't see.”

“Did you ever ask him?”

“Of course. He was truly confused by the question. The burden wasn't in living with me, Roy said. The burden was in living without me.”

“He must really be something.”

“Are you seeing anyone special?”

Jessie hesitated. “Actually I have a date tonight. A blind date. Isn't that awful?”

“Not as awful as not having a date,” said Bonnie.

It was so pointless, Jessie thought. But she needed the practice if nothing else, and she did want to get out into the world. She figured she'd muddle through somehow, though she truly didn't want to date. She wanted Dusty. Suppressing her yearning was getting harder, not easier.

“Grace in the vet clinic set us up,” she told Bonnie. “He works for computer tech support.”

“I hope you have a good time. Roy and I never would have met, except that I broke the dishwasher, and he came to repair it. We were married six weeks later.” Pride and wonder rang in her voice. “He's been incredible but he needs me to do better. So we had the idea of getting the dog.”

“She'll change your life.”

“So I understand.”

Jessie patted Bonnie's arm as she showed her where the next session was meeting. “You're going to do all right, my friend.”

“So are you,” Bonnie replied. “Have a wonderful evening.”

 

Jessie's wonderful evening began with disaster and deteriorated from there. She and Tim Hurley had exchanged e-mail a few times, and spoken on the phone once. When he had asked her to the Austin Symphony's open house, she'd been intrigued enough to accept, and it was too late to back out
now. The moment he walked into the lobby of her building, he cleared his throat. “Jessie?”

“You must be Tim,” Jessie said, getting up from the sofa where she had been waiting with all the clammy-handed anxiety of a teenager on her first date.

“Wow, you're a knockout.” At least the wonder in his voice was flattering. “Grace said so, but I thought she might have been exaggerating.”

She put out her hand and he took it, apparently assuming she wanted him to drag her somewhere. She laughed and pulled away. “That's some handshake. I like that in a man.”

She could feel him checking her out. She could feel his relief at the prospect that she didn't look like a freak. Recalling Patrick's comment this morning, she composed a mental picture of Tim Hurley. He looked remarkably like Joseph Fiennes.

“You have a nice smile,” he said.

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all, she thought. She signaled to Flambeau, and the dog came to attention. She sensed the dog checking out the man, too, and to her surprise, she realized Flambeau was indifferent to him. It was something Jessie knew, like knowing it was going to rain by the smell of the air.

Tim exploded with a terrific sneeze.

“Bless you,” she said.

“I'm allergic to dogs.” He hesitated. “Grace didn't tell me you had a dog. I mean, I should have assumed, but…” He let his voice trail off, then sneezed.

Jessie weighed her options. He was giving her the perfect out, if she chose to take it. But no. It was time to get away, attend the symphony, eat a shrimp cocktail and have a normal conversation that wasn't about closet organizing or avoiding low-hanging obstacles or training your dog not to be dis
tracted by garbage on the sidewalk. It was time to be a woman who happened to be blind rather than merely a blind woman.

“Flambeau doesn't have to come,” she said. She could feel the dog deflate beside her. All the way back to the apartment, she reminded both herself and her dog that there were times when they couldn't be together. Dealing with temporary separation had been part of their training, too.

She used a cane to make her way back to the lobby. Getting a whiff of his Stetson cologne, she felt a dart of surprise. “Still here? I gave you the perfect opportunity to escape.”

“You won't get rid of me that easily,” he said. She could hear a bit of congestion in his voice. “I mean, if it's okay with you to go without the dog.”

“It's okay. Unless you're allergic to canes.”

Tim gave it his best shot. He offered her his arm and moved along slowly, and he kept asking her if she was all right, if she needed anything. He made hesitant, polite inquiries, as though afraid to offend her. She knew it wasn't fair, but she kept comparing him to Dusty on every level, from his height and the scent of his skin to the way he dealt with her. Tim checked with her about everything. Dusty went for what he wanted. There was something so sexy about the way he had blazed into her life and swept her into his own. He'd hypnotized her with his absolute certainty that, not only did he want her, but he intended to have her. And furthermore, she was going to like it. Of course, Dusty hadn't known the truth about her. That made all the difference.