Now & Forever 3 - Blind love (5 page)

Peter ignored it, figuring the woman wasn’t talking to him.
He started again. Again he heard the voice coming through the window.

“Hey, you with the piano! I’m talking to you. Keep playing!”

Peter stopped and started again. Again the voice.

“You’re driving me crazy playing the same thing over and
over! Finish it!”

Peter got up and went to the window. About twelve feet away
was the window of the house next door. The shade was drawn, but Peter knew the
screaming woman was on the other side.

“I’m practicing! This isn’t a concert, lady,” Peter hollered
back.

He sat down again and purposely played the beginning over and
over until he heard the window next door shut with a bang.
That will shut her up
. He went back to practicing until Sam came in
and told him lunch was ready.

* * * *

Sharing a house with Peter and
listening to his music, reminded Sam of Ellen. He still missed her and when he
heard Peter playing her favorite tunes, his heart lifted for a moment as if she
were there with him. Their friends envied them their strong, loving
relationship
. Sam and Ellen had been married over thirty years; she was
his best friend and his lover. They had a peaceful, warm, sexy relationship.
When she died, his world collapsed.

He had not been at Vaal University long when he lost Ellen to
a virulent strain of pneumonia that swept through her body quickly. Ellen was a
talented pianist and the inspiration for Peter. When his son played Ellen’s
favorite pieces, if Sam closed his eyes, he could imagine she was still here.

Sam had become a pretty good cook after Ellen died. He
cooked, and Peter taught. They each had their own bedroom. The set-up seemed
fine, but Sam wondered what would happen when Peter revved up his social life.
He didn’t look forward to strange women at breakfast every Sunday morning,
maybe every Saturday morning too. Sam hoped Peter would fall in love and get
married.

The more women Peter had, the more restless he became, and
hence the more women. Sam didn’t approve of Peter’s womanizing but he didn’t
say anything…his son had to find his own way.

After lunch, Peter went back to the piano and noticed the
window across the way was open again. Maybe the woman had gone out. He started
in again on his sonata. This time he got halfway through, stopped and started
again. He played halfway through and stopped. Then he concentrated on one
section, playing it over and over.

“You’re driving me bonkers! If Beethoven is too hard for you,
try Brahms!”

“Shut up!” Peter yelled and continued to play the one section
over and over again until he heard the window slam shut.
Good
.

He played for another hour. Then he got up to get a glass of
water.

Peter came back to the piano, barely glancing out the window.
He saw a young woman from the back.
So
that’s the bitch.
He noticed she wore a leotard and footless tights. The
grace of her shoulders, the curve of her hips and the roundness of her small
bottom piqued his curiosity. He started to play the same sonata noting the
sound of the shade coming down rapidly, then all was quiet. He played it all
the way through. When he finished, he heard applause.

“Not bad for an amateur,” she called out.

Peter was furious and slammed his window shut. Sam chuckled
but left the room quickly when Peter glared at him.

* * * *

The next day Sam received a call from Mac.

“Dad, I need your help.”

“What can I do?”

“Jim Caterson, the head of our English department, is taking
care of his niece. She was attacked in New York City a couple of weeks ago and
beaten up pretty badly and has come to stay with him. She’s suffering from
temporary blindness and can’t live on her own. She can’t be alone all day and
Jim can be only be home part-time. I need someone to read to her or keep her
company for a few hours every day so he can work. Could you help us out, until
she can fend for herself?”

“Sure, Mac.”

“The best part is…she lives right next door to you.”

Sam ran his hand through his hair. “Which side?”

“To the left of your house.”

Sam thought a minute. Was she the girl Peter had a running
feud with? Uh-oh.

“I’m glad to help. What’s her name?”

“Her name is Lara Stewart. She’s twenty-six and nice looking
from what I’ve been told, so please keep Pete away from her, okay?”

“If she can’t see him, that’s half the battle. When do I meet
her?”

* * * *

The window next door was closed when Peter started to
practice. As he stumbled on an arpeggio and paused, he heard it slide open. He
shifted his focus to the part giving him trouble, playing it over and over
again. He waited for the nasty comments from next door, but they never came, so
he continued to play the same part over and over again.

“You’re doing it again! Play it through!” she yelled.

“Too bad!” he shouted.

“Maybe you should try Chopsticks!”

Peter played Chopsticks three times to annoy her.

“Enough! Enough! I give up,” she yelled.

Peter smiled at her defeat. He took a deep breath and went
back to practicing the Beethoven piece.

Next door, the window and shade were up. Peter heard crying
and stopped playing for a moment. He switched to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata,
a sad piece, calculated to annoy her. She went to the window.

“Very funny! Very funny!” the young woman screamed, her voice
shaking. She banged down the window so hard the glass rattled. The window
bounced up, leaving it open about four inches. Peter could hear everything.

“What’s going on here?” an unfamiliar female voice asked.
Peter heard soft crying in the background. He stopped playing.

“Look, you can’t fall apart, Lara. Don’t be a baby. Stop
crying. Pull yourself together and get your life back on track. Return to New
York where you belong. I can’t baby you all the time. Grow up.”

Peter heard the clomping of heavy footsteps and the slamming
of a door. Turning on the seat, he peeked through the opening of the window,
and saw the back of the girl in the leotard as she lay curled up on the floor,
crying softly. A pang of guilt stung his heart as he neared the window. Watching
her struggle to get up, reaching for a wall or chair, her hand flailing blindly
only to find nothing but air and crash to the floor again, intensified his
feeling. She sat up on the floor, swearing, then crawled on all fours over to a
chair and pulled herself up and in.

“Where’s the music?” she called out the window in an unsteady
voice.

Peter sat down and played the Beethoven sonata all the way
through.

* * * *

Sam knocked on the door of the well-kept gray and white house
next door. A woman about thirty-five years old, with short brown hair and an
annoyed look on her face answered.

“Yes?”

“I’m Sam Caldwell. I’m here to see to Lara Stewart.”

“Come in, Dr. Caldwell. I’m Fran, Jim’s fiancée.”

The young lady he assumed to be Lara was slumped in a chair
when Fran barged into her room, with Sam following close behind.

“Lara, you have company. This is Dr. Sam Caldwell,” Fran
said.

“Doctor, like in medical doctor?” The young woman asked,
sitting up straight in her chair.

“I’m an ornithologist…a PhD, Lara, not a medical doctor.”

Lara stood up to greet him. Sam reached out to take her hand.
When their fingers met, she screamed and shrank back.

“Sorry. I forgot to tell you…Lara can’t be touched.”

Sam peeked out the window and saw Peter there, listening. He
hadn’t told his son where he was going.

“I’m sorry, Lara. I didn’t know. It won’t happen again,” he
said in his deep, soothing voice. He looked at her battered face, neck and legs
and his heart melted. She was an attractive young woman, about five foot six,
with a ballet dancer’s slim body. Her glossy, fluffy, brown hair had red
highlights that glinted in the light from a bedside lamp.

Sam was impressed with her beauty. She had slightly full
lips, a perfect nose, and a delicate jaw line. He guessed her skin must have
been flawless before the attack. Her breasts were full, her bottom small and
well-toned. Her legs were trim and strong. She was stunning but fearful.

“I’ll leave you two,” Fran said as she made a quick exit.

“I’m here to read to you. Or would you prefer to talk?”

“What would you read?”

“How about the newspaper? Then we can talk about the news and
what’s going on in town.” he suggested, pulling a folded paper out from under
his arm.

“You have a nice voice, Dr. Caldwell, like my father,” she
said, smiling.

“Please call me Sam,” he said. “Where is your father?”

“Both my mother and father were killed in the World Trade
Center on 9/11.”

Silence filled the room as Sam looked down at his hands.

“Did you bring a newspaper?” she asked, positioning her face
in the direction of his voice.

“Shall we start with the front page? Do you want to get
comfortable?”

Lara nodded and stood up from the chair.

“Please tell me where the bed is.”

Sam directed her. Lara felt her way around the wall and sat
cross-legged on the bed, hugging a pillow. He walked over and pulled the coverlet
up to her hand. Lara arranged it around her shoulders.

Sam read the first words from a story then glanced at the
window. He saw Peter move to the side and heard the beginning of his Beethoven
piece.

Chapter Three

In June Dr. Cho gently advised Marcia to look into hospice
care for Jay. He gave her a booklet and the phone number of a woman in charge
of the arrangements. Marcia rang her and made an appointment to look round.

A few days later, Marcia picked up a sweater before she went
out the front door and pulled it shut. The sun was shining but there were some
clouds in the sky. It was the day for Marcia’s trip to the hospice. She tried
to listen, but her mind wandered, finding the whole idea of
the
facility distasteful, even though the quiet place with its thick carpets and
soft blue and green walls was calming. Although she didn’t believe in miracles,
she wasn’t ready to discuss how to make Jay’s death easier yet.

When she returned home, the door was unlocked. By now she was
used to Jakub Novacek in the house fixing something or painting something else.
The house needed repairs and perhaps Johnny figured she’d move out after Jay
was gone. But where would she go?

The reality of the hospice drained her remaining energy. She
entered the house feeling dizzy. She clutched the doorjamb, but her grip
slipped. Jakub was fixing a light switch in the living room when Marcia lost
consciousness.

Marcia opened her eyes, wondering how she got on the sofa.
She looked up as Jakub walked in the room with a bowl of soup on a tray.

“Eat this,” he said, placing the tray on the coffee table in
front of her.

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” she said, pushing the tray
away.

“Eat this,” he commanded, pointing to the bowl on the tray.

She looked up at his furrowed brow and picked up the spoon.
He sat down next to her. Marcia tried to swallow the soup, but she choked. Then
she burst into tears, her chest rose and fell as she sobbed out of control.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed a look of alarm on Jakub’s
face. He seemed confused, moving his hands one way and then another. Finally
she felt the comfort of his strong arms, engulfing her and holding her close.
Marcia collapsed against him, her face buried in his chest, her sobbing
continued. Finally out of strength, she quieted down and leaned against him,
listening to his strong heartbeat. He put his hand on her head and stroked her
soft hair. She closed her eyes and imagined he was Jay.

Jakub picked her up and carried her up the steps and
deposited her gently on her bed. After he left the room, she removed her
clothes and slipped between the sheets. The last thing she heard before she
drifted off was the locking of the front door.

The next morning Marcia woke up to a brusque command.

“Eat,” Jakub said, placing a tray with scrambled eggs and
toast on the nightstand.

Marcia opened her eyes, alarmed to see him at first, then she
saw the food and smiled. She slept in the nude, even without Jay in her bed, so
when she sat up, she had to pull the sheet up. At the sight of her bare
shoulders, Jakub’s cheeks turned pink.

“Eat breakfast. Have a good day,” he said, leaving abruptly.

“Thank you,” she said.

* * * *

After Raj turned off the sign, Deena stepped out into the
light of a street lamp. Rex was waiting for her in Alan’s car. He opened the
door.
Women love it when you open doors,
light cigarettes and that crap. So easy to manipulate, so predictable.

He got in the car. “Where to?”

“The Sugar and Cream is still open.”

“What is that?” he asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

“A coffee shop.”

“Isn’t there anyplace nicer?”

“Not at this hour. This is Willow Falls, not New York City.
We gotta get up at sunrise, tend the farm and the cattle,” she said, smirking.

“If that’s all there is.”

“Next time you can take me at five o’clock. Then we can go
fancy.”

“A second date, already?”

“Maybe…Let’s survive this one first,” she said, narrowing her
eyes.

Rex followed Deena’s directions and pulled into the parking
lot at Sugar and Cream. When they were seated and ordered, Rex took her hand
again.