Home Before Dark (34 page)

Jessie awakened from a rare nap, feeling muzzy-headed. Maybe she was coming down with something. She didn't recall inviting Arnufo to stop by that afternoon, but perhaps she had. She recognized the sound of the pickup truck shuddering to a halt in front of her cabin, the rusty creak of its door opening. Flambeau emitted a soft whine of curiosity and bumped her tail on the floor. Jessie gave her computer the verbal command to go to sleep and went outside to greet him.

“Hey, compadre,” she said. “You brought a friend with you,” she observed, hearing Amber's slow shuffle. She was probably clasping Arnufo's finger as she climbed the two steps to the cabin.

“She is good company,” he said.

Amber made a happy little burst of sound, clung briefly to Jessie's leg, then waddled over to Flambeau.

“How was your trip to San Antonio?” Jessie asked.

“Beautiful. I am so proud of my little granddaughter. And your sister, she took many wonderful pictures.”

Jessie smiled. If everything went according to plan, Luz
had awakened this morning in a fabulous hotel room with her husband and they'd return later this afternoon in a better state. She wasn't naive enough to think a romantic getaway would cure all ills, but the time alone together would surely give them a chance to talk about things that got shunted aside in everyday life.

“Would you like something to drink?” Jessie offered.

“No, thank you. As a matter of fact, I just remembered something. Watch
la pequeña
for me for a moment.”

“But I—”

“I will not be long.” Giving her no further chance to protest, he left, his boots crunching on the gravel drive.

His swift departure threw Jessie into a panic. She rushed to the door, stubbing her foot on the rubber mat. “Arnufo, what's going on?” she yelled.

No reply.

“Pah!” Amber toddled toward the door, pushing at it.

Jessie thought of the steps, and the woods and the lake, and firmly latched the door. “He'll be back soon,” she explained. “We can kill him then.”

Amber made a motor sound with her mouth, a steady
burrr
that reminded Jessie of a swarm of angry bees. The baby was headed for the table by the window. Jessie's mind raced. Her computer was there. Before dozing off she'd been dealing with e-mail using her voice recognition system. Cords spilled over the edge of the table to the wall.

What else? she thought, hastily making her way across the room. A hot cup of coffee—

“Amber, no,” she said loudly, imagining the child drenched by the burning liquid.

“No!” Amber echoed, her high-pitched voice sharp.

Jessie located her by the table and snatched her up. At first the baby made no sound, then she arched her spine and pushed
against Jessie's chest as she gathered air in her lungs. Finally, she exploded with an indignant wail.

“Oh, baby,” Jessie said. “Don't do this. I was afraid you'd hurt yourself.”

Amber bucked in her arms, still wailing. The tantrum crescendoed into a fury of windmilling arms and force-five screams.

“I can't believe this.” Jessie lugged the hysterical child toward the door. “What was he thinking, leaving you alone with me? Arnufo, damn it,” she hollered out the door.

“Damn it,” Amber yelled.

Only the distant baying of Beaver reached her, and then that was drowned by an earsplitting shriek from Amber.

“Flambeau,” Jessie said. “Flambeau, harness.”

The dog reported for duty, standing by the hook where her work harness hung. Jessie set Amber on the sofa, and the child immediately raged in protest, dropping to the floor with a thud and thrashing across the room. Jessie was torn—she needed two hands in order to harness the dog, but Amber didn't seem willing to wait for that. Jessie turned away from Flambeau and hastened to pick the baby up again.

“Okay, okay, I won't abandon you.” Scooping up the sobbing child, she hurried into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? Here, I've got a banana and let's see…I have some cookies that will make you sing an aria. Lila made them. No? Maybe a cup of milk.” With the baby propped on her hip, she opened and reached inside the fridge. “How about a piece of cheese?” she asked. “Yogurt? I know, a pickle!”

All her suggestions were greeted with more hollering. Jessie was horrified. She felt trapped, panicked, completely unprepared. Being set adrift with Amber was like exile to an alien planet, a place where she felt everything whether she liked it or not. What had happened to her life? Her travels and her
independence, her ability to brush past people and keep them from touching her? What was this precious mess she now held in her arms? What on earth was she supposed to do with it?

“Come on, Amber,” she said, pacing back and forth. “Snap out of it.”

The child cried on, her voice growing ragged around the edges.

“Look, here's Flambeau.” Jessie knelt beside the hapless dog.

“No!” yelled Amber, and the dog flinched.

Contrite, Jessie stood and paced some more, her ears beginning to ring. She brushed past a plastic bag she'd left on a shelf, and paused. “What's this?” she asked, and for a few seconds, curiosity about the crinkly plastic bag silenced the baby. Jessie reached in and pulled out a small, thick book, shrink-wrapped into a box. “This is for you, Amber. I never had a chance to give it to you. Let's read it.”

The baby kept crying, but with less vigor. Her desperate, tremulous breaths tore at Jessie's heart. The little tyke was either wearing herself out or the book actually interested her.

“Lila was with me when I bought this. I sent her a copy, too, a long time ago.” She wondered if Lila had ever exploded like this, if Luz had ever felt this helpless.

She brought the baby to the sofa and gathered her into her lap. Amber cried out, clawing at the cellophane-covered book with damp fingers. Jessie opened it quickly and held the book in front of Amber.

“Let's read it.” Dear Lord, read it? Her hand shook as she opened the book, and she strained to remember the story. It wasn't much, as she recalled. Something about two kids…Paul and Mary? Paul and Julie, maybe.

The angry buzz started as a low vibration in Amber's chest, and Jessie decided not to waste any more time. “Look, Paul
and Julie can pat the bunny,” she said, rubbing Amber's hand over the furry patch on the page. “Can you pat the bunny?”

“Pat, pat,” said Amber, snuffling.

“Want to turn the page?”

Amber flipped it expertly, revealing a small flutter of flannel. Something about a blanket? No, this was the peekaboo page. “Paul and Julie play peekaboo,” Jessie said. Amber's tiny fingers plucked at the flannel. And then, miracle of miracles, a chortle of delight erupted from her. Methodically they went through the book, stopping to examine each little surprise— Daddy's scratchy face, the sweet-smelling flowers, the shiny mirror.

“See the pretty baby,” Jessie said, and suddenly her throat felt thick with tears. Oh, how she wanted to see this child, her beautiful face, her bluebonnet eyes. But to her, Amber was made out of bits of voice, a distinctive scent, the brush of cornsilk hair under Jessie's chin.

“Mo',” Amber said when they reached the end of the book.

Jessie turned back to the beginning and they went through it again, page by page. And something happened. Jessie felt herself relax, and then she saw what she was supposed to see—the night garden, a place of unseen beauty. She felt the sweet weight of Amber in her lap, the silky delicacy of her skin, the powder-puff softness of her hair. She smelled the baby's scent of sugar and dew, heard the singsong babble coming from her as she examined the book, over and over again. And finally, in the middle of the fourth or fifth reading, she felt the baby's heavy release as she nodded off to sleep. Oh, she could see her. She could.

Jessie curved both arms around Amber and rested her wet cheek upon the downy hair, nearly overcome by exhaustion herself. She heard another car drive up and decided she would kill the person who woke this child.

She recognized Dusty's gait on the porch outside. Too bad. She would kill even him.

He came in quietly and the sofa creaked as he sat down beside her.

Lifting her face, she turned to him. “I can't do this.”

“Jessie.” He cupped her damp cheek in the palm of his hand. “You just did.”

 

Jessie told herself she should be used to the raw, exposed feelings his presence stirred, but it only intensified as time went on. While the tears dried on her face, she actually felt a wave of breathlessness, emotion made physical. He claimed he'd brought her here to deal with her sister, but she knew he expected more than that from her. Much more.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Arnufo ditched me with the baby.”

“I know. He used to do that to me, too, sometimes. Forced me to deal with her, one-on-one.”

“And that's okay with you? You don't mind that your pre-verbal, tantrum-throwing child was left alone with a blind woman?”

“She's sleeping like an angel. You have a magic touch with her.” With that, he gently disengaged Amber from Jessie's arms and went outside. She heard him exchange words with Arnufo, and then he came inside empty-handed.

He took Jessie in his arms, and her heart sang and broke at the same time. “I'm not cranky, Jess. Just finished waiting. I've kept my distance all week to let you and Luz sort things out. Now it's time to talk about us.”

Apprehension washed through her.
No.
She heard the swish of blood in her ears and pulled away from him. “Listen, I didn't ask you to track me down and drag me back here. But
you need to think about what you're saying. You've got a baby to raise. If you need a woman in your life, pick one who can actually do you some good.”

“I don't need a woman. I need you. Damn it, Jess, do you think I wanted to love you? Do you think I would if I had a choice? This isn't about doing myself some good. And believe me, loving you is no walk in the park. That was true before your blindness, and it's still true, and it has nothing to do with your vision.” He paused. “But I can't stop, I don't want to stop, and I'm not going to stop.”

Oh, those words. She wanted to clasp them inside her, to keep them forever. But she feared so much—that she'd be a burden to him, that after a while he'd regret his decision. It wasn't like her to be afraid, but this was new territory for her. “This isn't fair to you or Amber. Or me, for that matter.”

“Since when do I believe life is fair?” he asked, his voice edged by irony. “I hate what you went through. I hate it almost as much as I hated sitting in the hospital with Karen, knowing she was gone but keeping her alive for Amber. I know what you're doing—you're trying to protect me from more heartache, like I have some affinity for tragic women and you want to break the cycle. But you're wrong, Jess. You're a miracle to me. Haven't you figured that out yet?”

“I'm a nightmare, and if you think otherwise, you're being naive. It'll be a race to see which one of us drives the other crazy first, me with my blindness, or you with your protectiveness.”

“Listen, I don't pretend to understand everything about your blindness, but I swear I won't smother you. I know you, Jessie. You can do whatever you set your mind to. Hell, I used to treat my own kid like a bottle of nitroglycerin, as though she might explode at any minute. But she won't, you know? She might be little, but she's sturdy as an oak. I'm not going to
hurt her by loving her.” He took hold of her again, opened her hand against his mouth. “I'll never hurt you, either, I swear it. Marry me, Jessie.”

The words shot her into the air, sent her soaring. She saw what her life could be, if only she would let it. Her world could be filled with people she loved and moments to give it meaning if only she would get over being afraid, if only she would let it happen.

“Don't do this to yourself,” she begged him, taking her hand from his, cradling it in the other hand as though it was wounded. “Don't do this to Amber. Don't love someone like me. You have to let me go—you know you do.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I'm blind. I can't look into your eyes and see love or suspicion or joy, and eventually, my eyes will atrophy and they won't say a thing about me. How can I love you if I can't see you?” All her terror and uncertainty rang in the words.

“Ah, Jess. That's the easy part. You do it with your heart, like everyone else. You do it for real, and forever, without caution. And you just hope for the best.”

That spike of panic a woman feels when the thought first hits her—
I'm pregnant
—is like no other. That evening, Jessie stunned herself as she started to think the unthinkable.

Dusty had walked out, leaving her to agonize over her decision. Ian and Luz had returned triumphant from their tryst in San Antonio. Jessie had somehow managed to smile and welcome them home. She'd begged off dinner and retreated to solitude, plagued by the question of what the hell she was going to do. She had actually felt queasy as she'd wrestled with her dreams. Could her love for Dusty outweigh her fear of the future? He never made things easy for her, and this was no exception. He'd forced the decision into her hands and left it there. She simply had no answer. She'd been offered the gift of another woman's child, but it was for her to decide whether or not she was worthy of that gift. And then the issue had been eclipsed by a bout of dry heaves.

She couldn't remember her last period. Only today did she dare to think about that.

In a horrifying instant, the world shifted. Dear God, could she be?

Jessie went clawing through her bag of toiletries, her mind screaming a denial.

“Stupid,” she said through her teeth. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She'd stopped taking her pills when she started at the Beacon, but lord knew how many she'd missed before that. One of the many personal hygiene lessons had, of course, been a trip to the drugstore for supplies, and she'd realized then that she was late. Not to worry, the pharmacist had assured her. It was common for the cycle to be erratic, even nonexistent, for a while after being on the Pill for so long.

Flambeau's toenails clicked as she paced, her concern evident.

But she'd still been taking them when she was with Dusty, she thought, trying to calm herself. She found a half-used circle of birth control pills. Even as her frantic fingers identified the empty slots, she realized she'd blown it. She remembered skipping several days during the jet-lagged blur of her trip home, when she'd lost track of what day it was. Having just dumped her lover, she couldn't have known that contraception would turn out to be an issue. Quite possibly, her worsening vision had prevented her from distinguishing the placebo pills from the real thing. She thought about the endless night in Mexico—he'd wanted to go looking for a drugstore, but she'd assured him it was fine.
Stupid.

“This can't be happening,” she whispered, sliding down to the bathroom floor and drawing her knees up to her chest. She felt herself falling into the old pattern of fear and retreat. Her instinct was to flee, but no. Do it the hard way. Take a chance and reach deep inside for the answers. She realized she couldn't make sense of anything until she knew for certain. Instantly she thought of Luz.

Luz.

The last time Jessie had found herself in this predicament, her sister held out the ultimate hand of loyalty.

“Come on, Flambeau,” Jessie said, taking down the harness. “We need to go and see Luz.” It was early evening; she could tell by the chill absence of light, and she could hear the kids playing football or Frisbee in the distance. She charged into her sister's house, pausing briefly to release Flambeau.

“Luz!” she called, hurrying. “Luz, I—”

“In the den.”

“I'll be right there. I need something from the bathroom,” she said. Trust Luz to keep a home pregnancy test handy. Jessie remembered finding one under the sink in a wrinkled drugstore bag. Digging around amid bottles of fluid and desiccated sponges, she found the crinkly bag and clutched it to her chest.

She laughed, a harsh sound of desperation. She could not do this without help. Hadn't she learned a damned thing? She'd come so far, and now she was back to being a screwup, pregnant and not married. Not only that, she was running to Luz again.

She clambered down the stairs and headed toward the den, navigating the room in the way that had become second nature to her. “Luz?”

“Over here on the couch, enjoying a couple of minutes of solitude.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Mom and Stu are watching TV, and Ian's playing touch football with the kids. Even Lila.” A trace of wonder softened her voice.

“Ah, Luz. You need to see how much Lila really loves and trusts you. She's going to be okay, I just know it.”

“I hope you're right. The trip was so good, Jess. Ian and I haven't been like that since…I can't even remember.”

Jessie forced herself to appear calm. All her life, she'd been bringing her traumas to Luz. Her sister seemed so happy right now, so untroubled and relaxed. And here Jessie was, about to upset her again.

“Anyway, I want to thank you,” Luz said. “Ian told me everybody helped in the conspiracy.” She took hold of Jessie's hand and pulled her down to the sofa. “I have something to show you.”

Jessie frowned as Luz guided her fingertips to soft, smooth skin, then over a series of slightly rough bumps. The texture was familiar to her. “My God, Luz. You got a tattoo, didn't you?”

Luz laughed. “This morning, before we left San Antonio. Can you believe it? It's a constellation—Queen Cassiopeia.”

For a moment, Jessie's panic retreated in a wash of bittersweet understanding. “Andromeda's mother.”

“Yep.”

“Have you shown Lila?”

“Not yet. I wanted to show you first.” More laughter. “You should see Ian's.”

“I'll pass. Um, Luz—”

“I was working on the family albums.” Luz was uncharacteristically self-absorbed as she shuffled books and papers. “I'm way behind.”

“Yeah,” Jessie said, distracted. “Luz, I—”

“What's wrong?” A book thudded shut as Luz finally became aware of Jessie's agitation. “What've you got in the bag?”

She opened it and reached inside. “I'm going to need some help with this.” She took out the unopened box and handed it to her sister.

Luz gasped. “This is a pregnancy test.”

“I was hoping it wasn't Preparation H.”

“Jess?” Luz's voice trembled with wonder.

“They, um, don't come in Braille. That would be sort of icky, wouldn't it? So I thought maybe you could help me.”

Luz's arms went around her and they fell together, laughing through sudden tears. “I screwed up again,” Jessie said, “and once again I'm turning to you.”

“Don't you know that's what you're supposed to do? And don't you realize how much I turn to you?”

She pulled back. “You do?”

“Absolutely.”

“No way.” Jessie was incredulous.

“You took care of things after the accident. You shoved me back into my husband's arms where I belong. None of that would have happened without you. I need you, Jess. I can't believe you don't realize that.”

“Oh, Luz. Really?”

“Really.”

“So what about Dusty? I got myself knocked up, and now I'm going to go running to him to rescue me.”

“In case you haven't noticed, he needed rescuing, too. He was sleepwalking until you came along. You woke him up. He's alive again because of you.”

Jessie sat speechless for a few minutes, the tears pouring down her face. If she went through with this, she would be the mother of a child she could never see. The thought stirred a memory of the night garden in Mexico, the elderly caretaker planting in the dark. Just because she'd never see the beauty of a flower again, should that stop her from creating the flower in the first place?

“You understand,” she said when she found her voice, “I'm keeping this one.”

“Of course.” Luz squeezed her again. “Look, this is okay.
It's the way things were meant to be. I did the same, having babies unplanned. And look what I got for my troubles— Owen and Scottie.” Her grin was filled with warmth. “Sometimes I think the richest things in life come from mistakes.”

The bits of hard-won wisdom and home truths rained down on Jessie. “If that's the case, then I'm a millionaire.”

Luz sighed happily. “I think I'm going to like being the tattooed aunt. So do you want to do this now, or wait, or…?”

She heard the sound of the evening breeze sweeping across the lake and winnowing through the shedding live oak tree. Faintly, she heard the laughter of children and the bark of a dog and the distant cry of a loon. “Actually, there's something I have to do first.”

“Sure, Jess. Anything.”

“Can you give me a ride?” This was it, Jessie knew, as joy finally buried her fear. This was the adventure of a lifetime, and she didn't need a passport or a suitcase or anything other than courage. She stood up, turning her face to the warm light streaming through the screen door. “I need to go see Dusty.”