Bold and Brave-Hearted Page 12

  “That’s all right. I’ll do it.” She dipped her head, sorry that the mood of the morning had changed from romance back to reality. Such a stubbornly proud man! She suspected that had been true long before the explosion had threatened to steal his sight.

  Opening the cupboard, she knelt and pulled out a plastic bag that contained onions. Studying them, she wrinkled her nose. It was hard to imagine how long the onions had been in the cupboard, an unappetizing combination of sprouted green shoots and black goo. Why hadn’t she noticed them when she’d been labeling his canned goods?

  Sitting back on her haunches, she said, “I think you’re going to have to settle for scrambled eggs.”

  “How come?” He’d made an effort to wipe up the coffee he’d spilled but as much had dripped onto the linoleum floor as had been swiped into the sink.

  “Well, you’re either composting penicillin in this cupboard, or aliens have been feeding off these things that used to be onions.”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t been doing much gourmet cooking lately.”

  “Jay—” She stood.

  “I don’t want to hear it, okay? In another couple of weeks—”

  “You need to prepare yourself, Jay. There’s no sense sticking your head in the sand. There are ways to cope, to adapt to your…condition. Even if it’s temporary. Or, if necessary, for the long term. It would make your life easier.”

  He turned away and she saw the tension in his broad shoulders and how his hands curled over the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  Coming up behind him, she linked her arms around his middle and rested her cheek against his back. His skin was hot and smooth, his muscles rippling with tension. She wanted to tell him she loved him, that it didn’t matter that he was blind.

  But it did matter.

  If he could see, she wouldn’t have the courage to admit her feelings, these new emotions that had her head reeling. Even now, she wasn’t sure that what she was feeling was true and not a creation of her own wants and needs.

  But in her heart…

  He twisted out of her embrace. “I’ve changed my mind about breakfast. I’m going down to the station. They’ve usually got donuts. Maybe I can get in a workout on the treadmill downstairs.”

  “The doctor said not to overdo it.”

  “I’ve gotta stay in shape if I’m going to handle it when I’m back on the job.” He headed toward the living room but bumped into a kitchen chair Kim had inadvertently left pulled away from the table. He whipped it back into place. “Dammit, if you leave things lying around I really will break my neck.”

  She winced at both the sharpness of his words and his anger. “I’m sorry.”

  He stormed from the kitchen. A moment later she heard him crashing around in the bedroom and he reappeared wearing a shirt and his dark glasses.

  “I’ll drive you,” she called after him as he went out the front door.

  “I’m not a cripple, Kim. I can walk just fine.”

  She struggled not to be hurt. As gentle as he’d been during the night, as loving, he was as wounded as she. Perhaps more so because he had so much pride. But she couldn’t let him ignore the possibility that impaired vision might be with him the rest of his life.

  He needed to prepare himself…just as she needed to recognize that being an on-camera celebrity was no longer in the cards for her.

  JAY CURSED himself all the way down the block, nearly falling off the curb when he lost count of his steps and reached the end of the sidewalk sooner than he’d expected—something that wouldn’t have happened if he used a white cane, he realized in desperation.

  Kim hadn’t deserved his ire; it wasn’t her fault his moods were so volatile he was like a dangerous fire, ready to flashover without warning. Spontaneous combustion.

  That’s how it had been last night with Kim, so hot they’d practically exploded.

  Then this morning she’d reminded him of his blindness—that it might not be temporary. And he’d lost it.

  Listening carefully for traffic sounds, he crossed the street and turned right towards the station house. From the feel of the cool air on his face it was still early, the shifts just changing, passing responsibility for the job from one man to another.

  He wasn’t part of that, maybe never would be again.

  The wide driveway dipped in front of the bay doors of the station. He walked a few more paces past the drive, trying to sense where the pedestrian door was. Missing the entrance, he felt his way along the wall, finally grabbing the doorknob and yanking it open.

  Most everyone was upstairs. He heard shouting, friendly greetings. Guys kidding each other as A shift prepared to go home and C Shift take over.

  It was all he could do not to cut and run. Only his pride, his determination not to quit, kept him walking down the hallway.

  He heard Emma Jean’s dangling jewelry jingling before she spoke. “Hey, Jay, hon, I had a feeling you’d be coming in today.”

  “Amazing, Emma Jean, since I didn’t know I was coming until minutes ago.” He’d rather have stayed at home making love to Kim, but she would have coaxed him into visiting the Braille Institute. He wasn’t ready for that yet; that was too much like admitting defeat.

  “I was just gettin’ myself some coffee. Come on into the office and I’ll pour you some.”

  “Sure, why not?” He didn’t have much else to do except hang out with the dispatcher. Nothing useful. No fires to fight, no mountains to climb.

  The door opened with a creak and he followed her inside.

  “It’s going to be a nice, quiet day,” she assured him as she placed a mug in his hand.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Honey, I’m psychic. You know that. Every day when I get to work I put my palm on that copper shield out front by the door. The way it vibrates tells me what kind of a day it’s going to be.”

  He nodded, although he didn’t believe a word of her story, and sipped the coffee she’d given him—hot and potent, the way firefighters liked it.

  Emma Jean’s chair squeaked as she took her seat in front of the console. “Mrs. Anderson brought in some donuts. They’re on the counter if you want one.”

  He grimaced. “No thanks.”

  “It’s okay. They’re store-bought. She said she was going to make some this morning but had an early meeting with the city manager.”

  “Thank goodness for small favors.” Sliding his hand along the counter, he found the cardboard box and selected a donut at random. Gingerly he tasted the sugary frosting. Huevos rancheros would have been more to his liking.

  At that moment Emma Jean’s phone rang. In rapid order she dispatched a rescue unit and engine company from the fire station on the north side of town to a school bus accident before another call came in for Station Six, this one from a frantic wife reporting her sixty-year-old husband was having chest pains.

  While Emma Jean was still talking to the hysterical woman, another call came in, forcing her to juggle the distraught wife. A kid at the high school had been experimenting with chemicals in the lab. The explosion wasn’t bad, but the whole school stank of rotten eggs.

  A warehouse fire came next, three alarms, and Emma Jean dispatched all the available fire trucks in Paseo del Real.

  “A quiet day,” Jay muttered, amused that Emma Jean’s predictions were so blatantly off target—as usual.

  She was still answering calls when Jay left the office with his cup of coffee. The station house was quiet now, every vehicle having rolled.

  Damn it, he wanted to be out there with them, working the nozzle, taming the beast, dealing with the smoke, the heat. What would he do with the rest of his life if he couldn’t fight fires?

  Without direction, he walked out of the fire station through the big yawning doors. He could hear another siren, an ambulance maybe, and was drawn to follow the sound in the same way a moth is enticed by the lure of a porch light.

  Morning traffic on Paseo Boulevard
hummed past him. If he listened carefully he could tell the difference between a pickup and a passenger vehicle. The big trucks were easy, their gears shifting noisily as they lumbered away from a signal.

  He stopped at a corner, the traffic light against him from the sound of the moving vehicles across his path.

  But which signal? he wondered, suddenly aware he’d lost his bearings. With Paseo on his right he knew he’d been walking away from the fire station, away from his house. But how far? Had he crossed one street or two while pursuing the ambulance?

  At this hour there were few pedestrians. He could probably wave down a car to ask for directions—assuming they didn’t run over him first. Or he could bumble his way from one store-front door to another like a senile old man looking for help. A blind man who couldn’t find his way home.

  God, he was tempted to rip off the dressings on his eyes, see for himself where he was. What harm could it do? He’d only need a few seconds to get his bearings. Even if things were a blur, he’d be able to identify something. Wouldn’t he?

  KIM WATCHED the hands on the kitchen clock tick forward. Jay had been gone for four hours. Past time for his eye drops and no sign of him.

  If only he hadn’t been so upset when he left; if only she hadn’t tried to push him before he was ready to admit he needed help to deal with his blindness.

  At first she’d used the time while he was gone to call some friends and associates back east. Now she simply worried.

  She didn’t dare go after him like a mother tracking down a runaway child. He was a grown man—as he’d so ably demonstrated last night. He knew that he needed his drops. He’d return home in his own time.

  Unless he’d been hurt.

  Pacing the floor into the living room, she pulled back the lace curtain and peered out the front window. The street was quiet, no cars in view. And no Jay.

  Unbidden, the image of Jay lying on the street popped into her head, his lean, hard body battered and bruised by a car he hadn’t seen. Hadn’t heard. Did he have any ID with him? Would a hospital know to call her? An hour or more ago she’d heard sirens….

  Growing increasingly anxious, she went to the phone. She’d call the station. If he was still there, she’d let it go. He’d come home when he was ready.

  She picked up the phone and started to dial, then stopped herself. She didn’t want whoever answered the phone—or Jay—to think she was keeping track of him.

  It would be better if she drove by the station, just happened to drop in. Maybe she’d spot him walking home and he’d never know she’d been out looking for him.

  The decision made, she grabbed her purse, the bottle of eye drops and went out the door. Minutes later she had circled the block twice without seeing Jay and had parked her car across the street from the fire station. The big doors to the garage were up, the fire trucks gone.

  Did she dare go inside? The man should have enough sense to know when his medicine was due. Still, unable to see, he might not know what time it was.

  Or maybe he was laying prostrate on a treadmill in the basement of the place with no one around to find him.

  Slipping out of the car, she crossed the street and entered through the door leading to the dispatcher’s office. It was oddly quiet. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the hardwood floor as she walked down the hallway. At the door marked Dispatch, she stopped, opening it.

  Emma Jean looked up and grinned. Her dark hair looked like she’d run it through an egg beater, her cheeks were flushed. “Hey, hon, has this been a heck of a morning or what? I knew the minute I woke up today that it would be a doozie!”

  “I’ve heard a lot of sirens,” Kim conceded.

  “Tell me about it. I’ve rolled equipment from every station in town and finally had to ask for mutual assistance from Arroyo Grande for a brush fire up north. Awesome!” Despite her glistening cheeks and the dark eyeliner that had run, Emma Jean looked as though she’d just won a marathon race.

  “I was, uh, looking for Jay. Did he drop by?”

  “Yeah, hours ago.” The dispatcher frowned. “He’s not back home?”

  Kim shook his head.

  “I saw him leave. I mean, I thought he left. I was as busy as a flea on a hot frying pan, but I could have sworn he left the station.” She shrugged. “You could check his quarters upstairs, or maybe he’s down in the workout room.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do that.” Except the doctor had told Jay to take it easy. And a quick tour of the rooms upstairs didn’t turn up anyone.

  Truly worried now, she wandered back outside. How far could he have gone? She considered the Smoke Eaters Bar and Grill, but according to the sign she’d seen on the door the bar didn’t open until noon. Not knowing what else to do, she got back in her car and began to cruise the neighborhood.

  If he’d been run over, she rationalized, someone would have called the paramedics, who would have recognized him. Emma Jean would have known if he’d been injured. But where—

  As she turned yet another corner onto Paseo Boulevard, she saw him.

  Sitting on a bus bench blocks from home.

  A wave of relief washed over her, easing the tightness in her chest, and she felt an upwelling of love so potent she could barely suppress it.

  She pulled the car up beside him and rolled down the window on the passenger side, his glum expression making her heart go out to him. “Need a ride, mister?”

  His head snapped up. “You always go around picking up grumpy old men?”

  “Only when they’re exceptionally good looking.”

  He nodded, rising slowly as if he were carrying a heavy burden, and got into the car. “I was wondering if you could take me to the Braille Institute.”

  Unable to speak because of the emotion clogging her throat, she reached across the car and took his hand. Only a very courageous man could admit his weaknesses.

  Chapter Ten

  “We’re here,” Kim said as the car slowed to a stop.

  “You know I hate doing this.” He hated the need to be here. Hated being blind. And more than anything, he hated that he’d gotten lost and had been too afraid of risking his eyesight further by lifting his bandages. Or too terrified he’d see nothing but darkness even without the gauze protection and patches.

  “Think of it as a field trip. Those were always my favorite classes at school.”

  “Right,” he grumbled.

  “In addition to being legally absent from school all day, when we got back to class we had to write a report. Naturally, I excelled at that.”

  He fought the urge to smile. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Of course, I dragged the whole writing process out so I’d be excused from math class the next day—which is something I truly loathed, to my parents’ everlasting dismay.”

  He did smile then. Hard not to when Kim was so damn cheerful about her own shortcomings. “About my foul temper this morning—”

  “Don’t worry about it, Jay. It’s only natural to be angry when fate dumps on you. I didn’t take what you said personally.”

  Releasing the seatbelt, he turned to face her. The perfume she was wearing today made him think of a sultry Caribbean night with flowers blooming everywhere. “What about you? Were you angry when the doctors said they couldn’t fix your face?”

  When she didn’t immediately respond, Jay cursed himself for having mentioned her scars at all. She probably didn’t want to think about her injuries any more than he wanted to confront his blindness, temporary or otherwise.

  “Furious!” she said in a harsh whisper as though the pain and anger were still near the surface. “The one thing I had going for me was reasonably good looks, and poof! My whole career drops into the trash can.”

  “You’ve always been more than just a pretty face.” Instinctively, he reached out to touch her and discovered she was wearing her scarf again. He tugged the silk fabric out of the way, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand and finding she had on glasses—dark glasses, he imagi
ned, dramatic ones with rhinestones. Or classic round ones that would make her look studious. “How ’bout we forget this Braille Institute business after all and make out right here in the car?”

  Beneath his fingertips, her cheek shifted with a smile.

  “And you’ve always had the makings of a rogue.” She patted his thigh, dangerously close to a part of his anatomy that had already begun to react to her nearness. “Come on, hotshot. We’ve come this far. Let’s go see what these folks have to say for themselves.”

  Kim got out of the car and walked around to the other side, offering Jay her arm in order to guide him from the angled parking space into the Institute, which occupied a converted two-story Spanish-style house on the outskirts of town. The red tile porch and big double-door entrance looked inviting. Beside the door was a discreet plaque identifying the organization both in raised bronze letters and smaller braille characters.

  “There are three steps up to a porch,” she warned him.

  “Great. I’ll try not to fall over my own feet.”

  “Relax, Jay. I imagine you wouldn’t be the first person to stumble on these steps and probably not all of them have been blind.”

  “Sorry. Maybe I should have brought Buttons along and signed him up for guide-dog lessons.”

  She elbowed Jay in the ribs, smiling despite herself. The more anxious the man got, the more he tried to make light of the situation. Perhaps she should develop the same coping mechanism to deal with her problems. After all, she could easily switch careers to modeling scary Halloween costumes.

  The receptionist looked up as they stepped into the lobby, her extraordinarily thick glasses catching the glint of the overhead lights. Large, bold-print letters filled the computer screen beside her desk.

  “Hello, there. May I help you?”

  Kim suspected they were little more than moving shadows to the receptionist, whose desk plaque identified her as Sherry Summerland, but the young woman’s smile brought a special radiance to the room.