Trouble Don’t Last Always (23 page)

Yesterday he’d tried to find his way by himself to the kitchen and had tripped on a bench against the wall in the hallway. Thankfully, when he’d fallen he hit his head on the padded seat and not the exposed wood on the arms or on the hardwood floor, but the incident had frightened him and caused him to pull back.

For the rest of the day he’d gone no farther than his room and his study by himself. Fear was creeping over him again. He could feel it. If he didn’t get a handle on it and gain some real independence, he’d revert back to the way he had been.

He couldn’t have that. He’d hated his life and had begun to hate others.

Reaching out, he picked up the phone and punched in the first two numbers. The phone would ring on every phone in the house except his private line in his bedroom.

“Yes, Dr. Wakefield?”

Somehow her voice always reached through his fear. He eased back in his seat. “Lilly, could you please come to my study?”

“Yes. Do you need me to bring you anything?”

He had to smile. She continuously tried to fatten him up. “No, just you.”

There was a slight pause, then, “I’ll be right there.”

Hanging up, he tried to figure out if he had imagined that breathless catch in her voice and why it pleased him to think he had not.

“Yes, sir?”

The pleasure of moments ago evaporated. He frowned. “From now on call me Adam.”

“But—”

“We can argue about this, but I’ll win, and there’s another matter I want to discuss with you,” he said.

The spark of annoyance Lilly felt at Dr. Wakefield’s imperious tone was short-lived. That was who he was. She perched on the end of a chair. “What matter?”

“I want you to understand that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I need more.” The fingers on his right hand fiddled with a gold pen.

Since she was reasonably sure he wasn’t working his way up to firing her, she asked, “In what way?”

“I’m tired of depending on you and Mother to get me where I need to go, tired of bumping into furniture, tired of fanning the air,” he finished, his voice tight.

“If you took Orientation and Mobility classes you’d be able to go where you want without our help,” she suggested, holding her breath for his reaction.

He rocked forward in his chair. “How did you know about that?”

She barely kept from squirming. “Your mother was able to get a social worker by the name of Harriet Parker to come out and talk with us about the best ways to help you. One of the things she mentioned was Orientation and Mobility classes.”

“Could you please call Mother and ask her for the phone number?” Picking up the phone, he set it closer to her, then shoved the gold pen and a pad toward her.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she stood. “Of course.” In seconds she had Eleanor on the phone and the information. “Do you want me to dial it for you so you can speak to Harriet?”

“Thank you.” No one but Lilly seemed to understand his need to do as much for himself as possible. He thought the reason was probably because they were both fighting to turn their lives around.

“Mrs. Parker, please hold. Eleanor Wakefield’s son, Dr. Wakefield, would like to speak with you.”

Adam’s fingers circled the phone, feeling the lingering heat of Lilly’s hand and its calming influence. She never doubted him. “Mrs. Parker, thank you for taking my call. I’d like to inquire about taking O&M classes.” There was a long pause. “Tomorrow at one here would be fine.”

Lilly tapped his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “You need to send a car for her.”

The warm breath against his ear caused his mind to race in an entirely different direction. “What?”

“She has a guide dog.”

Adam nodded his understanding. She hadn’t described the social worker as blind but had let him know just the same. “I’ll send a car for you.…All right. I’ll expect you and Mr. Dillion at one. Good-bye.”

“I better go find the tea service,” Lilly said when Adam hung up the phone. “Do you think finger sandwiches and lemon cookies will be all right to serve? Maybe I better ask Eleanor.”

“Whatever you prepare will be fine, Lilly.” Adam’s mind was on trying to figure out why his body had reacted so oddly to the breath of a woman. His body hadn’t wanted sex since his accident. Nicole could testify to that.

“I don’t think Odette would agree with you,” Lilly said, worry in her voice. “I’m going to call your mother. I don’t want you embarrassed.”

Adam came out of his musings. “Lilly, you’re making too much of this.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t always served your guests the best.”

He had, but that was before. Then he realized that, to Lilly, before was no different from now. “Perhaps you should ask Mother.”

“I will.”

They hadn’t discussed the menu with Adam, but judging from the compliments of his two guests, they had done well. His mother sat beside him, serving and keeping the conversation flowing. Lilly, off to the left, was quieter. He’d asked her to sit, but she’d refused.

“You have a beautiful estate, Dr. Wakefield,” Harriet said.

Caught off guard by the comment, Adam was unable to hide his astonishment. “Th-Thank you.”

Laughter erupted, followed by a voice aged by whiskey and smoke: “He’s too polite to ask how you know, Harriet.”

Adam frowned in the direction the voice had come from, directly across from him. Since Brent Dillion’s hands were the size of dinner plates, Adam thought he was probably bigger and broader than Jonathan. There the resemblance ended. The man had none of Jonathan’s smooth manners or tact.

Adam was beginning to wonder if Harriet had been right in her high praise of the O&M instructor. “I don’t think that comment was necessary, Mr. Dil-lion.”

“I disagree and so will Harriet. Blindness demands two things: honesty and trust. Without them, you’re heading for trouble,” he said. “And call me Brent.”

“Brent’s right, Dr. Wakefield. I may not agree with his methods, but he gets the job done,” Harriet said. “As for how I knew, he described the grounds to me as he drove in. The echo in the room, the feel of the tapestry chair I’m in also helped.”

“How long did it take you to learn that?” Adam asked, leaning forward.

“Weeks, perhaps months, but as I explained to your mother, it depends on how much effort the person is willing to put into it,” she told him.

“I’ll be seeing by then.” Adam firmly crossed his arms and sat back on the sofa.

Brent Dillion’s gaze narrowed on Eleanor as the cup rattled in the saucer in her hand. “In the meantime, you want to get around by yourself, is that right?” Brent asked.

“Yes.” Adam had no idea why the man irritated him.

“You don’t like me, do you?”

Eleanor opened her mouth, but Brent held up his hand.

“No.”

“I can imagine. I’m big, bold, brash, and worse, I can see.”

Unfolding his arms, Adam surged to his feet. He felt Lilly touch his arm and caught himself in time to keep from jerking away. “I didn’t invite you here to insult me.”

“Ladies, can you please excuse us for a bit?” Brent asked. “Doc and I have some talking to do. Go on. Don’t come back unless you hear something breaking.”

“Very funny,” Adam said, clearly not amused.

“Yeah, I’m a riot.” Brent sat back down. “Since the ladies have left I’m sitting, so you might as well take a load off.”

Adam sat. “I heard them leave and since the angle of your voice changed, I’m aware you’re sitting.”

“Do you know how many people in the world couldn’t have made that deduction? Sighted people depend too much on their eyes and forget their other senses. They let their sight distract them. Doc, I’m proud of you.”

His expression one of bored indifference, Adam said, “Yes, I can tell by your voice.”

Rough laughter rumbled. “I guess you can tell why I’ve gone through two wives and countless meaningful relationships. You have a special lady?”

“No.” The word was clipped and didn’t invite conversation.

“This is good tea. You sure you don’t want any? No? Well, where was I? Oh, yes. Dating for the visually impaired.” He took a loud sip of tea. “I have unsighted buddies on my golf team who get more ladies than I do. At first they were hesitant to approach a woman, but they soon got over it. Now they listen to what and how it’s said instead of looking at face and body measurements.”

“They play golf and they’re blind?” Intrigued in spite of himself, Adam unfolded his arms.

“Yep. I have to sight the ball, tell the direction, but they do the rest by themselves.” Brent placed his cup on the table. “The only things an unsighted person can’t do are drive and read.”

Adam’s hands flexed. “Lilly says there is a computer program that can read print.”

“Sure is. Various programs run from about two-fifty to over a thousand bucks; then you have to figure in the optical scanner and if you need to upgrade your computer. Shouldn’t be hard for a stepper like you.”

“That’s condescending.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I see you sitting there, rich and successful, looking down your nose at me, angry at me because an uncouth guy like me can see and you can’t. Well, let me tell you about what pisses me off,” Brent said, his voice taking on a hard edge. “It’s a single working mother whose out-of-control diabetes takes her sight, a hardworking steelworker who forgot to flip his helmet down when he fired up the blowtorch and now can’t support his three children. You don’t know how fortunate you are, Doc.”

Adam felt the anger sweeping through him. “I was a neurosurgeon. It takes skill, courage, and finesse to incise into the brain. You have to know where and how to approach the lesion, especially if it’s in a delicate or eloquent area. And you sure as hell better know what you’re looking for and what to do when you get in there. Do you possibly have any idea how long it took to learn?”

“No, Doc, but I got a feeling you’re going to tell me,” Brent said mildly.

“I studied sixteen years after high school. Only two-thirds of the doctors that go into medicine finish. That number is cut in half for neurosurgeons. Intelligence is rarely the problem. What gets you is the emotional stress. The long hours. At a little over two thousand, we’re probably the smallest of the surgical specialties. I was on my way to being the best. Now, I can’t cut into a damn piece of meat without making a mess.” His hand fisted the front of the Polo shirt he wore. “I’m reduced to wearing these because I have trouble buttoning a damn shirt correctly.”

“And you have the money to buy as much meat or as many of those shirts as you want. You won’t get any sympathy from me,” Brent shot back.

Adam’s head snapped back. “I wasn’t asking for any.”

“The hell you weren’t. Your blindness was a bump in the road to you; for some it’s careening off a cliff. You can still pay the rent and live large. Your children aren’t going hungry; the wolf isn’t at your door. You don’t have to worry about what do you do when the people who’ve always depended on you can’t.” Brent ticked off each word with biting precision. “
That
takes your pride.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Adam said just as heatedly. “Money has never been the measure of what my family and I feel for each other. I know about lost pride. I’ve been so far down I didn’t think I’d ever get up again, but I have. To you, because I have money, that makes my blindness livable. I’d give away every cent to be able to see again.” He came to his feet, his chest heaving with anger. “That’s not an option. I have to start where I am and go from here. I plan to stay up and stay a man. With or without your help. Good-bye and thanks for coming.” He retook his seat. “Please see yourself out.”

“Do you still want to work with me?”

“Do
you
want to work with
me
?” Adam countered. He could tolerate the obnoxious, outspoken man; he couldn’t tolerate being lost.

“The way I see it, we can only go up from here. My hand is directly in front of you if you want to shake it.”

Adam came to his feet and reached out. A large hand firmly enclosed his. “By the way, I was ticked that you could see. How did you know?”

“Occupational hazard and your body language,” Brent explained, withdrawing his hand. “If I eat a quick lunch, I can fit you in between two and three Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Can’t we increase the hours?” He wanted to learn as much as possible as soon as possible.

“Not unless we clone me. I came out here as a favor to Harriet. I’m squeezing you in as it is.”

The man and woman,
Adam thought. “I’d like to offer financial assistance to the young mother and the steelworker.”

The unexpected slap to his back almost toppled Adam. “You’ve got heart, Doc. Sally is now a court reporter and Simon is the top salesman for his insurance company.”

“Was that little story a prod or test or motivation?” Adam asked, irritation creeping back into his voice.

“All three. I don’t have time for temperamental, stuck-up, snooty people. Too many others need my time,” Brent said.

“If you’re as good as you are arrogant, you must be amazing.”

“I am, Doc; believe me, I am. Now, let’s go take a look at your computer to see how quickly we can have you searching the Web.”

Lilly was all thumbs. She couldn’t seem to concentrate on the piano keys. No matter how much she tried to block out the pressure of Adam’s thigh against hers, she couldn’t. If she scooted over, he’d invariably reach over to guide her hands and their bodies would connect again.

His touching her hands only increased her nervousness. She’d started putting Vaseline on them at night and wearing her church gloves to soften them, but she couldn’t tell any difference. They remained callused and rough from six years of keeping her house spotless. Adam’s hands, like his mother’s and Nicole’s, were smooth, the nails short and rounded. Lilly had searched for a nail file in one of the seven bathrooms and hadn’t found one yet.

Her thoughts elsewhere, she hit D instead of C, B when it should have been A. Finally she drew back her trembling hands and folded them in her lap. She’d humiliated herself enough for one night. “I guess I’m tired. Why don’t we stop for tonight?”

“What’s the matter? You’ve been tense all afternoon.”