Trouble Don’t Last Always (33 page)

Eleanor stared at Jonathan, her gaze sweeping over his body, his virile manhood. She licked her lips. “No. No objections at all.”

“Good, because I just might have to act improper and change your mind.” While Eleanor was trying to decide if she should be indignant at his assurance, he gathered her clothes. “All present and accounted for.” He held up a lacy bra. “Since I helped take them off, I feel I should help put them back on.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He grinned. “You will.”

He was dreaming…in color.

He was lying on his back in a field of vibrant red and yellow flowers. He heard the drone of bees, the babble of a creek, the neigh of a horse. Con-tentment lay upon him like a blessing. He blinked, then blinked again at the sun’s brightness shining in his eyes. He turned over and the brightness followed. He lifted his hand to block out the irritating light.

Adam roused from sleep slowly and opened his eyes; his right arm lay over his eyes. Despite his blindness he’d continued to dream in colors. A curse or a blessing, he had yet to determine. He moved his arm. The brightness remained.

He didn’t move for a long moment, afraid he was still dreaming; then he lifted his hand in front of his face as he had done every morning since his accident and waved his fingers. Shadows swayed.

His breath caught. Afraid to hope, to believe, he did it again. His heart pounded in his chest. The shadow shifted.

“Oh, my God. Lilly! Lilly!”

Sitting up in bed, he waved his hand in front of his face again and again, laughing, unaware tears were coursing down his cheeks. The veil of darkness had lifted from his right eye. Shadows moved in the nebulous of blackness.

“What is it?” Flinging his door wide, Lilly rushed into his room.

“I can see shadows out of my right eye.”

“Oh, Adam!” She was across the room in an instant, climbing on the bed with him. “Can you make me out?”

“You’re a shape in a fog bank,” he said, laughing with unrestrained happiness.

“Oh, my goodness! This means the hemorrhage is clearing.”

Laughing, he hugged her to him. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Laughing just as happily, Lilly hugged him back, then discovered her unbound breasts pressed against the naked wall of his wide chest. She had rushed into his room without a robe. Again. Caught between being embarrassed and enjoying being in his arms, she debated her options for all of two seconds before hugging him harder. She felt the rasp of his beard against her cheek, the strength of his arms holding her, the long fingers splayed on her back.

“I’m going to see again!” he said, boundless delight ringing in each word.

“I’m calling Eleanor and Kristen.” Pulling away, Lilly went to the phone and punched in the number.

Adam stood and headed for the shower. “Tell them to pick us up and we can go see Dr. Scott right away.”

Lilly dragged her gaze from the ripple of muscles in Adam’s back and shot a quick glance at the clock. “It’s only seven-fifteen. The doctor won’t be in his office.”

“Just tell Jonathan. He’ll get him there.”

Dr. Louis T. Scott was one of the country’s foremost neuro-ophthalmologists, an ophthalmologist who had additional training in neurological diseases. He looked more like an absentminded professor. He barely reached five feet, and no matter what he wore, he always appeared rumpled as he did now, wearing a white lab coat over a white shirt, black bow tie, and dark slacks. His snow-white hair was perpetually spiked over his head, but his eyes were sharply intelligent behind his gold wire-rimmed glasses. He was a patient, thorough man. Too much so in Adam’s opinion.

“Well, Louis?” Adam said restlessly.

Dr. Scott lifted his head from studying the back of Adam’s eye through a lens light. “There’s definitely clearing of the hemorrhage.”

“I didn’t need you to tell me that. I want to know how long you think it will take for the hemorrhage to completely dissolve so I see again,” Adam said.

“You can sit back.” Louis moved the refractory light back. He didn’t look at Jonathan, who stood to the left of him. “I don’t know.”

“How can you say that? You must have a clearer picture of the vitreous.” Adam waved his hand in front of his face again, then cursed beneath his breath. “Put some Rev-Eyes in. I’ve gone long enough without seeing.”

“You certainly haven’t forgotten how to give orders.” The elderly man stood and reached for the bottle of eyedrops to reverse the dilation.

“He certainly hasn’t,” Jonathan said dryly.

“Hold your head back,” Dr. Scott ordered and proceeded to put one drop in each eye, then handed Adam a tissue.

“What’s next?” Adam dabbed at the excess medicine running down his cheek.

The doctor flicked on the overhead light. “We need to do an optho-ultrasound to be certain, but the iris muscle is functioning in the right eye and I believe the optic nerve is intact.”

Adam stilled and closed his eyes. “Thank God.”

“Hold on, Adam; I said I think.” Folding his arms, Dr. Scott leaned against the counter to Adam’s right in the small exam room in the ophthalmology outpatient clinic of the hospital. “Let’s get the ultrasound and I can tell more. There’s still the question of whether there is retinal detachment due to the hemorrhage,” he cautioned.

Adam’s hands gripped the arms of the chair. Waiting had been a risk, but so had surgery. Instead of voicing his fear, he asked another question: “Only a couple of techs can perform the test. Is one available?”

The elderly man patted him on the shoulder in reassurance. “Romero is coming in to do the test personally.”

Richard Romero was the head of Radiology and a friend. He was also one of the many people Adam had cut from his life. “Thanks for calling him.”

“You’re one of our own, Adam. We take care of our own. But I don’t want you to expect too much from the tests,” Scott warned.

“I’m going to see again,” Adam said flatly.

The other two men in the room traded worried glances and remained silent.

Lying on the table, Adam couldn’t relax. There was too much at stake. The Rev-Eyes had done its job. He now saw vague shapes and shadows out of the right eye. He’d see again. He was sure of it.

“Let me help you sit up.” Romero took Adam by the arm and assisted him off the table and to a straight-back chair.

“Well?” Adam asked, aware that his throat was dry, his heart pounding. Romero could read the results while doing the test. “Is there detachment?”

“No,” he said quietly.

“I knew it,” said Adam. “I knew it.”

“Hold on, Adam,” Dr. Scott said quietly, too quietly.

Adam whirled toward Dr. Scott, who could read the tests as well as Romero. “What did you see?”

“It’s what I can’t see.” Dr. Scott pulled a stool in front of Adam and straddled it. “I know we agreed to try and let the hemorrhage clear up on its own, because new studies showed there was less risk of permanent damage to the optic nerve or retinal detachment afterward.”

“Yes. I know all that.” Adam shifted restlessly. “Make your point.”

Scott’s sigh was long and eloquent. “I think we’re pushing it, if we continue to wait. The retina can only take so much. We’ve gained some good news in that the iris muscle is responsive in the right eye, but we’re still in the dark with the left eye.”

Adam felt the effects of his words like a heavy weight on his chest. “You– you think the left eye is not going to clear up?”

“I don’t know, Adam. But I think we’ve about used up the time we can safely wait to go in and have a look.”

Adam rose, took a step, and realized he wasn’t sure where he wanted to go or what he had planned. “I—” He shut his eyes tightly, then opened them. “I won’t believe I won’t get my vision back.”

“Adam—”

“No, Jonathan.” Adam held up his hand to stop the words he was sure he didn’t want to hear. “I’m going to get my sight back.” He stuck out his hand. “Thank you, Louis, for coming so quickly.”

His hand was grasped and held. “I want to see you in two weeks. Three at the most.”

“By that time, I’ll be seeing you,” Adam said. He refused to let doubt creep in when his friend released his hand. Firmly he turned to where he had last heard Romero’s voice and again extended his hand. “Romero, I owe you one.”

Adam heard the squish of the man’s shoes on the floor. The sound had come from behind him. Adam waited for the radiologist to come to him as Brent had taught him.

“Glad I could help,” Dr. Romero said, shaking Adam’s hand. “Take care of yourself, Adam.”

“Come on, Jonathan. We have two anxious women waiting outside.” Adam’s fingers grasped the fine wool of Jonathan’s suit. “Wait until Kristen hears.”

Troubled, Jonathan glanced at both doctors. Their faces were grim. “Adam, perhaps you should wait for a couple of weeks.”

“I’ve waited three months, Jonathan.” Adam’s fingers flexed on Jonathan’s arm. “Are we leaving or do I have to find my own way?”

Jonathan moved. Adam never missed a step. Brent had done the same thing many times, in his words training Adam for any eventuality.

Outside the room, the clicking of heels alerted him of the women approaching. “I’m going to see again, Mother.”

Eleanor threw herself into his arms and held tight. “Thank God. Thank God.”

“That’s not exactly what the doctor said, Adam.” Jonathan would have given anything not to have Eleanor jerk around and stare at him with fear in her eyes.

“What are you saying?” she asked.

Adam’s jaw tightened. “Jonathan is being his pessimistic self, as usual. The hemorrhage is clearing in the right eye.”

“Not the left,” Jonathan reminded him.

“It will,” Adam vowed. “Aren’t you going to say something, Lilly?”

Lilly felt as if she had been shown heaven, then hurled into hell. Despair and fear were only two of the many emotions warring within her. “I’m not sure I know what to say.”

Adam turned his mutinous face toward Jonathan. “See what you’ve done?”

Jonathan stared at the crushed expression on Eleanor’s face, so totally different from the excitement when she had rushed into his room this morning. “It’s not fair if they don’t have all the facts.”

“Adam, what did Dr. Scott say?” Eleanor asked, her arm slowly withdrawing from around her son’s neck.

“He thinks I should have surgery within the next couple of weeks. Three weeks at the most. He’s concerned that the hemorrhage will cause scarring if we wait much longer.” Defiantly Adam squared his shoulders and lifted his head. “By that time, my vision will have returned, so there’s no sense in discussing the matter.” He took his mother’s arm. “Let’s get out of here and go tell Kristen.”

Eleanor threw a questioning look at Jonathan. He shook his head. Briefly she closed her eyes and fought the stinging moisture. “Of course. Kristen should be home by now.”

“Did you pace the floor and wait for her?” Adam asked as they moved down the carpeted hallway of the outpatient wing of the hospital.

Eleanor was unable to keep from sending a guilty glance back at Jonathan. She flushed.

“I was just teasing, Mother. No need to tense up,” Adam told her.

Carl opened the front door by the time the musical chime faded to the last note. They were taking the limo back to the airport as soon as they picked up the luggage and Kristen.

“Thanks, Carl. Where’s Kristen?” Eleanor asked as she and Adam entered the house.

The gray-haired man’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t seen her, Mrs. Wake-field.”

“She’s not home yet?” Eleanor asked, looking from the obviously uncomfortable-looking butler to the top of the stairs.

“I’m not sure. She has her own key. She could have come in while I was in the back,” he told her.

“You haven’t heard from her since she left?” Adam asked, worry in his voice.

“I’ll go check her room.”

Eleanor headed for the stairs, guilt dogging her steps. After she had left Jonathan’s room she had gone to her room and taken a long, hot bath. Instead of waiting for Kristen as she had planned, she had fallen asleep in her chaise longue while reading a book and hadn’t awakened until Lilly called that morning.

The knock on her daughter’s door was brief, almost desperate. If anyth—

“Yes?” Kristen called.

Eleanor sagged with relief. “It’s Mother, baby. Can I come in?”

“I’m getting dressed. Give me a minute.”

“Is she all right?”

She glanced over her shoulder to see Jonathan; a few feet behind him was Adam, and Lilly was directly behind him. “She’s dressing.”

“Tell her to hurry.” Adam started back down the stairs with Lilly by his side.

Jonathan stared at Eleanor a long moment. “Don’t even think it.”

She shook her head. It wasn’t difficult to know he was aware of her guilt. “Please tell Carl to have Alice prepare breakfast.”

“Just remember what I said.”

Eleanor opened the door. Kristen was pulling a bulky black sweater over her head. “You’ll faint in that once we get off the plane in Shreveport.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Eleanor frowned. Usually after a date or outing Kristen couldn’t wait to tell her what had gone on. “Did you have fun?”

Kristen finally turned, but to Eleanor the smile on her daughter’s face seemed forced. “Sure.”

“You don’t sound like it.” Eleanor’s concern deepened.

“I’m just sad. I’ll miss my friends.”

“But you’ll keep in touch and make new ones,” Eleanor assured her, her unease disappearing. Graduation from college was a big step into the unknown. “You’ve always enjoyed New Orleans.”

“I may not be going to New Orleans.” Kristen picked up a brush on the dresser and began pulling it through her long, straight hair.

Shock swept across Eleanor’s face. “You’ve already been accepted for a position. You start in August.”

Kristen’s hand paused. “Eric wants me to get a job in New York. His parents are in the Hamptons. My professor says he could help.”

“You’ve obviously given a great deal of thought to this.” Eleanor tried to keep her voice calm. With a mother’s instinct she knew Eric was all wrong for her daughter.

“I have. I want to go.” Kristen faced her mother.

Her heart sinking, Eleanor studied her daughter closely. “You think you’re in love with him, then?”

Kristen’s chin lifted. “Yes, and I don’t want to lose him.”

“Distance shouldn’t affect your relationship if you’re really in love.”

“Did you come up to get me for breakfast?” Kristen replaced the brush on the dresser.

Eleanor realized two things: Kristen’s mind was made up, and she hadn’t gone to her room when she returned home. Both were disturbing. “Not exactly. Adam wants to tell you himself.”

Fear leaped into Kristen’s dark eyes. “His eyes aren’t getting worse, are they?”

“No.” At least Eleanor hoped they weren’t.

Kristen was out the door. She hit the stairs running and didn’t stop until she was kneeling in front of Adam. “What happened?”

He grinned. “You’re a beautiful blur out of my right eye.”

“Adam!” she cried, reaching for him.

Laughing, his arms closed around her. She flinched. His hold loosened immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to squeeze you so hard.”

Her gaze skirted away, then back. “How soon before it clears completely?”

“Dr. Scott isn’t sure, but it will,” Adam said adamantly.

His sister laughed. “You bet it will. Oh, Adam, this is wonderful. Have you called Nicole yet?”

Beside him, Lilly stiffened.

“No. You might as well know that Nicole and I have decided to call it quits.”

Kristen sat back on her heels. “Are you sure?”

“It was over long before now, Kristen,” Adam said. “Sometimes it’s not meant to be.”

“How do you know?” she asked quietly.

Adam heard the doubt in her voice and wondered if she meant generally or was referring to something specific. Before he lost his sight he couldn’t have answered. Now he had no problem. “Your heart, your mind, your soul will tell you. All you have to do is listen.” He twisted his head to one side. “Is this about Eric?”

“Yes,” she said in an excited rush. “If I can get a job at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, and my professor feels that I can, I’m going there instead of New Orleans.”

“You’re changing plans you’ve had for the past year for a man you’ve known only a few months?” Adam asked incredulously.

Kristen impatiently swept her long black hair over her shoulder. “It doesn’t take years. Mother knew from the first she wanted Father, and she was the same age.”

“You want to marry him?” Eleanor asked, hesitant to point out that at her daughter’s age she had been very mature, a sophomore medical student, and as self-assured and opinionated as they came.

Kristen came to her feet. “I didn’t say anything about marriage. I’ll just go see if Alice is ready to serve.”

“I don’t like this,” Eleanor said as Kristen swept from the room. “I wasn’t impressed when I met Eric.”

“She’s too old to forbid her to see him or move to New York,” Jonathan said. “She’d mentioned moving to New York the day she called about her graduation.”

Furious, Eleanor whirled on him. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Jonathan unflinchingly met the censure in Eleanor’s eyes. “Kristen’s not the secretive type. I thought she had mentioned it to you.”