I Can See for Miles (11 page)

Josh moaned softly, low in his throat, when Charlie kissed him slowly, before he pulled back just enough to speak. “Your lips are so soft, I just want to kiss you all day,” he muttered, leaning forward again and chasing Charlie’s mouth. “Charlie… quit teasing.” Josh’s fingers slid down Charlie’s back, kneading the muscles beneath the skin until they came to a rest on the denim-covered globes of Charlie’s ass, where they curled into the fabric and pulled Charlie closer to him.

“Jesus, Josh,” Charlie breathed, biting at Josh’s lips again, closing his eyes at the boldness of Josh’s hands. “I love the way your hands feel on me.”

“Charlie, kiss me… ple—” Josh’s plea was cut off by the insistent press of Charlie’s lips slanting over his.

“God,” Charlie moaned, sliding his fingers into Josh’s hair and then pulling gently, forcing the other man’s head back so he could latch his lips to the smooth skin of Josh’s throat. Charlie placed hot, wet, openmouthed kisses to the tanned flesh and gasped when Josh’s hands slipped under the hem of his shirt and stroked the skin of his back. He couldn’t help the way his hips rolled when Josh urged him even closer, so Charlie could feel Josh’s arousal against his own. Charlie’s grip tightened in Josh’s hair, and he brought their mouths back together, his hand sliding down Josh’s cheek and his thumb opening Josh’s mouth wider so he could map out every ridge and curve with his tongue. The sudden loud hooting of an owl on a nearby branch jolted the two men apart.

“Jesus,” Josh whimpered, lowering his head until it hit Charlie’s chest, and Charlie’s fingers immediately slid into his hair. “Saved by the hoot.”

A chuckle rumbled through Charlie’s chest, and he eased himself off Josh’s lap and onto slightly shaking legs. He readjusted himself in his jeans before he reached out and grabbed Josh’s hand to help him to his feet. “The fire’s out, jerk,” he said, shoving Josh gently at the raised eyebrow Josh gave him. “The campfire is out. Come on, I’ll walk you back to the cabin.”

Linking his fingers with Josh’s, they walked slowly back to cabin number seven, and Charlie let Josh’s hand go when they reached the door. “Well, g’night, Josh,” Charlie said softly, lifting his hand and smoothing Josh’s bangs from his forehead.

Josh leaned toward him and smiled against Charlie’s lips when he took the invitation and kissed Josh slowly, before pulling back with a surprised gasp followed by a giggle. “What is it?” Josh asked, his brow furrowed. “Are you laughing?”

“I think your
mom
is signaling it’s time to call it a night.” Charlie laughed as the lights inside the cabin were turned on and off several times in quick succession.

“You’re kidding me?” Josh’s mouth dropped open. “I’m going to kill the meddling midget.” He shook his head slowly and chuckled. “I’d better go in before he comes out here with a shotgun and a preacher. See you tomorrow?”

Charlie’s heart was lighter than it had been for a very long time. “Not if I see you first.” He pressed another kiss to Josh’s lips and trotted down the steps, but turned to watch Josh close the door behind him. He heard him shout at Mario, “What the fuck are you doing?” and Charlie grinned as he made his way back to the house.

Half an hour later, tucked up in bed, his arms folded behind his head, Charlie closed his eyes and pictured Josh’s face. He sighed heavily as he remembered the appointment he had the following day. He only hoped this thing between him and Josh would have a chance to grow before whatever Dr. Morgan was going to tell him squashed it forever.

Chapter Nine

“I
S
EVERYBODY
up to speed with what’s happening today?” Charlie asked, looking around at the assembled faces of his staff. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be back, and I don’t really want anyone knowing where I’ve gone.”

“We all know what we need to do,” Mike said, then sniggered when they heard the sound of a car horn being depressed yet again. “And I think you know you need to get in the car—your pop has been leaning on the horn for ten minutes, dude. I can see it getting ugly…,” he sing-songed when the kitchen door was thrown open so hard its handle bounced off the wall. “Too late—”

They all turned to see a rather red-faced Sharon standing in the doorway. “Charles William Cooper, if you’re not in that car by the count of three, you won’t be able to sit down for a week, because I will personally kick your heinie all over this kitchen!” Sharon’s voice was controlled and barely raised, but there was a wealth of meaning in every word, said with the ease of a woman who didn’t need to shout to get her own way.

“Mom, I’m thirty-two—”

“One….”

“Mom, I’m not a child—”

“Two….”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Charlie muttered, not needing to see his friend’s faces to know they were happily amused by his embarrassment. “Just call me if anything urgent crops up.”

“Good-bye, Charles William,” Maggie drawled. She grinned from ear to ear when Charlie flipped her off and promptly received a slap to the back of his head for his rudeness from his mother as they headed out the door.

Charlie threw his backpack onto the backseat and climbed in, then shut the door behind him. He reached for the seatbelt and caught his father’s eye in the mirror, and smiled sheepishly when his father tipped him a wink as he started the engine.

“You ready, son?”

Charlie nodded and did his best to give his mother his best “nothing can faze me, I can face anything” look and then leaned his head back against the headrest. Looking out the window, Charlie watched the scenery that whizzed past the car as they left the greens and browns of the countryside for the sparseness of the highway. His stomach roiled with unease and the gripping fear of what today would hold. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to picture his favorite spot by the river, where they had stopped on the first pony trek, where he had sat for a while with Josh. He hoped he could paint it vividly in his mind, knowing after today was over, it might be the only way he would ever see it.

“C
HARLIE
!”
Frank Morgan pulled Charlie into his arms and embraced him warmly. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but it wouldn’t be completely true,” he said ruefully, the expression in his brown eyes sympathetic and kind. “Sharon, Bill.” He hugged Charlie’s parents with equal fervor and ushered them into his office. “Okay, have a seat,” he said, picking up his notepad. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? Charlie, in your opinion, when you called me, at what percentage would you have said each eye was?”

“When I called you?” Charlie shrugged, avoiding his parents’ gaze, because now they would find out how much he had played everything down. “I’d say my left was at fifty and my right maybe seventy.”

“Okay, and did the degeneration happen over a few weeks?” Frank asked, scribbling some notes down on his pad.

“No,” Charlie replied, picking at an imaginary thread in his jeans. “Overnight, pretty much. I went to bed okay and then woke up at fifty, seventy.”

“And now?” Frank scribbled some more.

“What, right this minute?” Charlie said, being deliberately obtuse.

“Yes, Charlie, right this minute,” Frank said, glancing at Sharon and Bill, “and I want the truth, please, because once I examine you, I’ll know it anyway. Besides”—his lips lifted in a knowing smirk—“I don’t think there’s anything you can say that is going to save you from the butt-whupping your pretty momma is going to give you for not telling her.”

“Amen to that,” Sharon hissed through her teeth, glaring at her son.

Rolling his eyes, Charlie took a deep breath before answering. “My left is about twenty and my right is about forty,” he muttered, trying to keep his tone even. “My left is definitely breaking down quicker than the right.”

“Charlie—” Bill began, only to be cut off by Frank.

“And how many days has it been since the change from fifty, seventy to twenty, forty?”

Frank’s tone was even, but Charlie had known him for a very long time, and he could tell just by the subtle nuances that things were not looking good. “Three days, including today.”

Frank wrote for a few minutes on his pad and then took his ophthalmoscope from his top pocket. He turned down the lights in his office and then pressed a switch, lowering the blackout blinds across the windows. Shining the light into Charlie’s eyes, he instructed him to look in different directions and straight at the light. After a few moments, he straightened and opened the blinds and turned the lights back on.

“Well?” Sharon asked, concern evident in her voice.

Frank walked slowly around his desk and sat down in his big leather chair, clasping his hands across his stomach, his gaze firmly fixed on Charlie while he gathered his thoughts. “Charlie, you’ve been my patient for a long time, and the last thing I’m going to do is start sugarcoating things now,” he said firmly. “Son, I don’t know why the cataracts keep growing back. The fact that you have them at your age in the first place is a rarity in itself, but for them to keep coming back is something I’ve only encountered one other time in all my years as an ophthalmic surgeon. You have two choices. I can remove them again, but to be honest, son, I’m loath to do that because I’m worried about adding to the scar tissue that has already accumulated from your previous surgeries.”

“What’s the other choice?” Sharon asked insistently.

“Something I think Charlie would be a suitable candidate for. Corneal replacement.” Frank opened his drawer and handed them some leaflets. “It’s a relatively simple procedure itself and, because there is nothing wrong with the actual sight center in the brain, you would stand a good chance of success.”

“How much sight would I regain?” Charlie asked, leafing through the brochure in his hand.

“There are no guarantees in anything, Charlie, but you’d almost certainly regain most, if not all of your sight. Now, I can put you on the waiting list right now, but this isn’t something that’s going to happen overnight. I don’t know how long you would have to wait for a donor to be a match.” Frank tapped away on his laptop.

“Donor?” Charlie said incredulously. “You mean someone has to die so I can see?”

Frank ran a hand over his beard and shook his head. “No. I mean someone has chosen, in the event of their unfortunate death, to give someone such as yourself the gift of sight. Now here’s the waiting list. It’s your decision as to whether or not I put you on it.”

“What happens if I go on the list?” Charlie asked, lifting his gaze from the brochure to his doctor.

“There’s some blood work and other tests we will need to carry out, and then you go in the database until there’s a suitable match.”

“How long before he gets a match?” Sharon asked, curling her fingers around Charlie’s.

“I have no idea. Sooner rather than later, I would hope,” Frank replied.

“And how long do you think I will keep the sight I have now?” Charlie asked. The question sounded forced, even to his own ears, as if his lips didn’t want to let it out.

“I don’t have the exact answer, Charlie.”

“Come on, Frank,” Charlie spat, “like you said, we’ve known each other too fucking long for platitudes.”

“Charlie—”

“It’s okay, Sharon,” Frank said, leaning forward in his chair and placing his elbows on the desk. “A matter of a few weeks at most, I’d say. Probably less.” He stood up and picked up Charlie’s file. “I’m going to go and put the arrangements in motion for the blood work and tissue typing. I’ll give you some time on your own to think about it, and I’ll be back in a few.”

After Frank closed the door behind him, Charlie got up and walked over to the huge floor-to-ceiling window in Frank’s office. The city bustled away below, going about its daily business, unaware of the emotional war waging inside Charlie. Sharon’s hands circled his waist and a waft of the familiar strawberry shampoo she used filled his nostrils as she laid her cheek against his shoulder.

“I think you should go on the list,” she said softly.

“It could take years before there’s a match, Momma.” Charlie closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

“During which you will go blind anyway, so what have you got to lose? At least with your name on the list, there is the hope that one day you’ll see again,” Bill said, coming up behind his wife and stroking his fingers softly through Charlie’s hair.

Charlie felt his chest tighten, and he couldn’t prevent the tears from rolling down his cheeks. “How will I keep the camp open?” He felt the sobs rising in his throat. “How can I keep the kids safe if I can’t see them? How can I tell them to be strong and that losing your sight doesn’t mean losing your dreams, when I just want to scream and yell at the thought of losing mine? Everything I’ve worked for—”

“All the more reason to put yourself on that list, baby,” Sharon said softly as took his face in her hands, her thumbs wiping away his tears as they fell. “Of course, you can keep the camp open. You have the support and love of your friends and your family. We’ll get through it together.”

“Mom’s right, son,” Bill said soothingly, pulling his wife and Charlie into his strong arms and holding them close. “We’ll get you on that list, and then we’ll face anything else head-on, together.”

“Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Frank’s deep voice reverberated around the room. “Can I get you any coffee?”

Charlie sniffed loudly, and his voice wobbled as he said, “Just put me on the list.”

Frank smiled and said, “Consider it done. Can you stay and have all the blood work done today?” At Bill’s nod, Frank opened the door and called out to his nurse. “Sue, can you set up Charlie’s blood work and other tests for after lunch, please? And cancel my plans with Dr. Ash. I’m taking the Cooper clan out for the best Italian in town.”

“N
OW
you’re sure you don’t mind us going out?” Mario said for the fifteenth time in the last ten minutes.

“For God’s sake, you annoying leprechaun, get out. You’re giving me a headache,” Josh complained, putting his hands over his ears to try and block out the sound of Mario’s voice.