Читать книгу Holiday Confessions - Anne Marie Winston - Страница 7

B rendan finished washing up the bowls from the dogs’ dinner. He’d already taken each one out, but as he listened to the time, he realized he’d better get moving if he didn’t want to be late to dinner with his new neighbor.

He was pretty sure his shirt and slacks from the office were still clean, but he wasn’t taking any chances, so he headed into his bedroom to change. Clean pants. His fingers found pants hangers and he chose khakis rather than jeans and pulled out a brown belt, identified by the tiny Braille tag he’d used to label it.

He passed by the suits paired with dress shirts and matching ties on the metal hangers and felt the plastic ones that were his system for locating casual shirts. Better get a clean shirt, too. Showing up with an ink stain or food smeared on his collar wasn’t the impression he wanted to make.

He was running his fingertips over the label that clued him in to color when his hand stilled on the knit shirt he’d chosen. Since when did he care about making an impression on a woman?

Quickly he finished dressing and called the dogs. He harnessed Cedar and put a leash on Feather. She tried repeatedly to shove her way between Cedar and him, and when he finally used a stern tone, she skulked behind him as if he’d beaten her with a stick.

“I’m sorry, girl,” he told her as he stood in front of Lynne DeVane’s door. “I’m doing the best I can to make this work.”

“Make what work?” Lynne opened the door in time to hear his last comment.

He forced a laugh. “Sorry. I don’t usually stand around talking to my dogs.”

“Really?” Her tone held amusement.

He thought about it. “Okay, maybe I do.”

“I don’t blame you. They pay attention to what you’re saying more than people do most of the time.” The direction of her voice shifted and he realized she had stepped back so that he could enter. “Please come in and have a seat. But then you have to tell me what you were talking about.”

As he entered her apartment, he told Cedar, “Find a chair.”

“I didn’t realize you taught them things like that,” she said as Cedar took him across the room and he found a large wing chair with his outstretched hand.

“Good boy,” he said to the dog. To Lynne, he said, “It isn’t a formal command taught by the school, but when I first got Feather, another guide dog user suggested that it might be a useful command, along with things like, ‘find the door.’ Some people use specific commands to find a family member in a large store.” He’d chosen finding a chair for the first thing he’d teach Cedar, and already his big black dog was catching on.

“How long have you had Cedar?”

“We just graduated from the training school two weeks ago.”

“Oh, my,” she said, clearly taken aback. “I assumed you’d worked together much longer than that.”

He smiled. “He’s a good dog. And having worked with one dog helps. When you get your first dog, both of you have to learn everything together. Speaking of which, where is Feather?” He stretched his hand down to his right side where he’d been trying to teach her to lie, but she wasn’t there.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lynne said. “I was petting her. Isn’t that allowed?”

“No, it’s fine unless a dog is working,” he said. “She’s probably enjoying the attention. Since I retired her and got Cedar, she’s been getting more and more depressed.”

“How can you tell?”

He shrugged. “She’s not eating well. Sniffs her food and turns away. And she just seems kind of…lackluster. Dull. She used to be bouncy and her tail was always wagging. I could always tell because her whole body vibrates from the back end forward when that tail’s going.”

“It sounds funny to think of a dog suffering from depression, but I suppose it makes sense. Did you say you two worked together for eight years?”

“Yes. She just had her tenth birthday.” He sighed. “I’m starting to think I should have let her go. A lot of times the original families who raised them as puppies will take them back again, but if not, the school has a waiting list of families who will adopt a retired guide.”

“How could you give her up, though, after all that time together?”

She understood. Warmth spread through him. “Exactly. It’s not easy for a blind person like me who lives alone to care for two dogs, but I just couldn’t send her away. She’s a part of my family.”

“I can imagine,” Lynne murmured. “I don’t think I could do it, either.” Her voice changed as she bent over and addressed his dog. “You’re a beautiful girl, yes, you are. With a beautiful name.” She laughed in delight.

“Let me guess. She rolled over on her back and has conned you into rubbing her belly.”

“Oh, so you’re a belly-rub slut,” she said to the dog. “It’s disappointing to hear that you’ll do this for anybody.”

He chuckled. “In a big way.” He fondled Cedar’s ears as a comfortable silence stretched.

“I apologize for grilling you,” Lynne said. “You probably get really sick of people asking you questions about your dog or being blind.”

He shrugged. “You get used to it. It drove me crazy the first year or so, but it comes with the territory.”

“So you haven’t always been blind.” It was more a statement than a question. “I thought from some of your mannerisms that you had been able to see once.”

“I was sighted until I was twenty-one. While I was in college, I fell over a balcony railing at a frat party and landed mostly on my head.”

“Holy cow. You’re lucky you survived.”

He nodded. “Very.”

“A frat party,” she said reflectively. “I never went to college. Are those as wild and debauched as I’ve heard?”

He grinned. “I’ve been to a few that fit that description. But I hadn’t been drinking that night. A guy behind me tripped, and it was just sheer lousy luck that he plowed into me.”

“No kidding,” she said with feeling. “Did you know right away that you were blind?”

“Not right away.” He hesitated as the memories of those early days in the hospital welled up. Kendra had been with him when he’d asked the doctor about his vision.

“Let’s change the subject,” Lynne said. “I think it’s your turn to ask the questions.”

He realized he’d been silent too long, and he mentally smacked himself. He really was out of touch with socializing. Entertaining clients was a lot different from dating. Even if this wasn’t really a date. “Sorry. It brings back a lot of memories. It was…a time of enormous change for me.”

“I can imagine,” she murmured.

He decided to take her up on her offer. “What kind of work do you do?”

He felt a subtle change in the room, a tension that surprised him. He’d expected that to be a fairly safe question.

“I’m not working right now,” she said. “But I have a couple of interviews this week, so I’m hoping to have an answer to that question soon.”

“Okay,” he said. She’d probably just lost a job, and since that often happened under difficult circumstances even to the best of people, she might feel embarrassed or humiliated. “Let me rephrase that. What kind of work would you like to do?”

“My interviews are at a preschool and at an elementary school as an aide,” she responded. “But what I’d really like to do is go to college and learn to teach.”

“What age would you prefer?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I enjoy little kids, but I honestly don’t know enough about older children or teens to know whether or not I’d also like those age groups. Hence the job choices.”

“So you haven’t worked with children in the past?”

“No.” He heard her stand. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Iced tea?” he asked.

“I happen to have some. Sugar or lemon?”

“Just lemon, please.” He listened to the pad of her feet across the room and into what sounded like her kitchen, judging from the tile floor onto which she walked. Her place appeared to be laid out just like his, except with the floor plan reversed. The jingle of Feather’s tags alerted him that she had followed Lynne.

Was it his imagination or had his hostess become uncomfortable the moment he’d asked about her past? She’d leaped into action right after that, and she certainly hadn’t volunteered any information about what she’d been doing before she moved to Gettysburg.

He heard the clink of ice cubes, and a minute later Lynne returned with his tea.

“Is there anyplace in particular you would like me to put this?” she asked.

“Is there a table near me?”

“There’s an end table on the right side of your chair.”

“You can set it down there.”

He heard her moving toward him, and as the glass settled on the table, a whiff of clean, womanly fragrance enveloped him. She was close.

How tall was she? He thought she was probably pretty tall for a woman because her voice didn’t sound as if it was coming from miles below him when she was facing him.

“There,” she said. “It’s toward the front of the table on the corner closest to you.”

He reached out and lightly followed the lip of the table forward until his hand encountered the cool, smooth glass. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Dinner will be ready in a little bit. I played it safe and baked a chicken.”

“I like baked chicken. Any potatoes?” he asked hopefully.

“Also baked. Double-stuffed.”

“The kind with sour cream and cheese all mashed up with the potato and then put back in the shell?”

She laughed. “The skin, not the shell.”

“Whatever.” He dismissed semantics. “Sounds great, especially to someone who eats most of his food out of take-out containers or microwave dishes.”

“I guess cooking is difficult,” she said tentatively.

He laughed, picking up his tea and taking a sip. “I know another blind guy who’s a fabulous cook. He’s a partial, which makes it a little easier for him—”

“A partial?”

“A person who still has some vision, although it’s usually pretty limited. Some partials have more vision in one eye than the other, some have vision in certain quadrants of their field of vision. I have no vision, so I’m a total.”

“I’m sorry I interrupted. You were talking about your friend who cooks.”

He smiled. “No problem. I was only going to say that even when I could see, it wasn’t at the top of my list of fun stuff to do.”

“I always enjoyed cooking, even when I was a little girl. I haven’t done much of it in a long time, though.”

It seemed like an odd statement, and he wished he could have seen her face. “Life too busy?”

“Something like that,” she murmured. “Have you always lived here?”

He recognized an about-face in conversational direction when he heard one. “No. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, out near Pittsburgh. How about you?”

“A teeny little town called Barboursville in Virginia.”

“Is that anywhere near Williamsburg?”

“No. It’s above Richmond. Why?”

“One of the partners in my firm went to college at William & Mary. We were high school buddies so I was down there to visit a couple of times.”

“I forgot you told me you were with a law practice.”

He nodded. “Yes. Brinkmen & Brinkmen. Our offices are right on Baltimore Street downtown.”

“I’ve seen them. It’s a very charming little town.”

“And convenient, too.”

“Convenient?”

“Easy for me to get around independently.”

“Oh, right.” She paused. “I guess I didn’t think about that. You don’t drive, so you have to have at least basic services within walking distance.” She sounded as if she were talking more to herself than him.

“A lot of vision-impaired people live in large urban areas,” he said, “because things are so much more convenient, and there’s public transportation close at hand.”

“Didn’t think about that, either,” she admitted.

“Proximity to the things I need was one of the major attractions about Gettysburg. Main Street has a thriving business area thanks to the college and the tourists, so banking and doctors and dry cleaners are all within walking distance. And there’s a grocery store and a pharmacy, too, and some great restaurants.”

“Do you ever go over to the college?”

He nodded. “A lot of their music and theater performances, as well as the occasional guest lecture are open to the public.”

“Oh, good,” she said, sounding delighted. “I love music.”

“Do you play an instrument?”

“No. I played piano when I was a kid. It’s something I’ve always wanted to take up again.” Her voice sounded wistful.

“Maybe this is your chance,” he said.

“Maybe it is. So what else does one do in Gettysburg?”

“Well,” he said, “I hope you enjoy CivilWar history.”

She laughed. “Guilty. It was one of the things that drew me to the area. I want to learn more about the battlefield and the whole war.”

“I doubt you’ll have any trouble.”

She chuckled. “What else?”

“The usual things,” he said, “with an extra focus on history, perhaps. There’s a Community Concert Association, a library, a humane society, performing groups, a bunch of churches, business and civic organizations, stuff like that. If you want to get involved, I guarantee you’ll be welcomed with open arms.”

“I’ve never done any volunteer work. I wouldn’t know what to do.” Her tone was doubtful.

“You don’t need prior experience.” He felt like a cheerleader, and he wondered why she had so little self-confidence. “If you go to a meeting or two or join a church, it won’t be long before you’re being asked to help with things.”

“That would be nice.” He heard her rise. “Dinner should be about ready. Why don’t we go to the table now?”

Dinner was delicious and the conversation easy and inconsequential. They lingered for more than an hour, sharing coffee and cookies after the meal. Finally, he remembered that he had an extremely early morning the following day. He was just rising when her telephone rang.

“Excuse me.” She stepped away from him and he heard her pick up a handset. “I’d better take this,” she said, apparently having looked at the Caller Identification screen. “Hello?” Her voice sounded cautious and cool and although he knew it was rude to eavesdrop, he could hardly help hearing her side of the conversation.

“Hello, Daddy.” Her voice lilted with a pleasure he would have given a lot to have aimed at him. “How are you?…Yes. Yes. I know I haven’t. Oh.” The lilt flattened with what sounded a lot like disappointment. “…I see. When?…Congratulations. No, I don’t believe I’m going to have the time…. I’d rather you didn’t. No…maybe at Christmas. I’ll have to see if I can get away.” Her voice had taken on a bleak, distant tone. “Well, thank you for calling. I’m entertaining so I can’t chat.”

She concluded the conversation with speed and an affectionate word of farewell that sounded more rote than genuine.

As she set the handset back in the receiver, he hastily reached for another cookie so she wouldn’t think he’d been listening to her conversation. Even if he had.

She returned to her seat silently.

After a moment that seemed to stretch for a long, awkward time, he finally said, “Is something the matter?”

“My father.” She hesitated, then said, “My father’s getting married again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said cautiously. “I take it that’s bad news?”

She drew in a shuddering breath and he realized she was near tears. Somewhere down to his left, Feather whined, and he heard her get to her feet.

A moment later Lynne gave a shaky laugh. “Thanks, girl.” To him she said, “Your dog just gave me a kiss. I think she’s worried about me.”

“She’s not the only one.” Without thinking he reached out and placed his hand over the arm he’d heard her lay on the table, then slipped his palm down until he was covering her hand.

He felt her lay her other hand atop his and gently squeeze, then she slid both hands away. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m all right,” she said quietly. “I should be used to it by now.”

“Used to…your father not being married to your mother anymore?” Maybe her father had had a case of the forty-something itch and had scratched it with a divorce and a younger woman, not necessarily in that order. Lord knew he saw enough of that in his business.

To his surprise, she heaved an unladylike snort. “My parents were divorced when I was two,” she told him. “This lucky lady will be my father’s sixth wife.”

He knew his eyebrows rose, and he couldn’t hide his surprise. “Whoa. That’s…a lot of wives.”

To his relief she laughed. “And that’s the understatement of the decade.” She took a sip of her coffee, and the cup clinked as she set it down. “Sorry to let that intrude into our evening. He always manages to shock me when he tells me about his newest relationship, although I don’t know why.” She cleared her throat. “Feather was very sweet. Has she always reacted to human distress like that?”

He shook his head. “Not in general, although when she senses I’m upset she does the same thing. But as far as I know, you’re the only other person to receive the honor of a sloppy canine kiss.”

“I liked it,” she said. She rose from the table. “Would you like some more cookies to take with you?”

“Maybe just a few,” he said. “I have to confess that the first batch you gave me is gone already.”

“Better you than me,” she said. “I—”

A loud growl interrupted what she’d been about to say.

“Feather!” He looked in the direction of the sound.

“What’s wrong?” asked Lynne.

He sighed. “I guess she took exception to something Cedar did or maybe just the way he looked at her. She’s not handling being supplanted gracefully at all.” He called his guide to him, hearing the jingle of Cedar’s tags as he rose from where he’d been lying beneath the table.

“Poor girl,” Lynne said. “I can imagine how she must feel.” Her voice sounded lower and faraway, and he realized she had bent over and was hugging Feather. “It’s no fun being replaced, is it?”

“And watching me walk out the door with him each morning is hard on her.” He shook his head, thinking that having a father getting married for the sixth time, Lynne knew a fair amount about being replaced in someone’s affections. “Like I said, I really don’t want to part with her, but if she would be happier somewhere else, it isn’t fair of me to keep her.”

He rose and found Cedar’s harness. It still felt new and odd after the softness of the leather on Feather’s old one.

Lynne moved ahead of him to the door, and he called Feather to come along. He hadn’t bothered with a leash since they were just going across the hallway.

But he didn’t hear the familiar jingling of her tags.

“Feather, come.”

Nothing.

“What is she doing?” he finally asked Lynne. There had been a time when he’d have hated needing to ask someone to describe what he couldn’t see, but he’d passed that point years ago. More or less. He ignored the twinge of annoyance he felt.

“Ah, she’s still lying on the rug in the kitchen,” Lynne said.

He tried again. “Feather, come.” But he still heard nothing. “Dog,” he muttered beneath his breath, “if I have to come over there and get you, it isn’t going to be pretty.”

Lynne sounded as if she were trying not to laugh. “She’s welcome to stay.”

Stay? “No, thanks,” he said. “What an imposition that would be. Come to dinner, leave a dog behind for you to take care of.”

“I wouldn’t mind, honestly.” Her voice was soft.

With sudden clarity, he remembered the phone call she’d just received. She’d been pretty upset by it, no matter how well she’d pretended to recover. And Feather had comforted her. Maybe…

“All right,” he said before he could think about it too much more. “If you really want her, she can stay. You two can have a sleep-over.” He turned back in the direction of her kitchen. “But she still needs to come when I call her. Feather! Come!” He used the I-am-not-kidding tone he rarely employed, and this time he heard her as she heaved herself to her feet, lazily stretched and shook and finally strolled toward him.

“Smart-aleck,” he told her when she reached his side. He grabbed her collar as she attempted to worm her way between Cedar and him. “No, girl. Sorry.” He knelt, laying an arm across her soft back. “Would you like to stay with Lynne tonight?”

“You could get her when you come home from work tomorrow,” Lynne said hopefully. “I have an interview at one o’clock but I don’t expect to be gone more than an hour, if that. She wouldn’t be alone all day.”

And neither would Lynne, he thought, reading between the lines. “Works for me,” he said, “if you’re sure that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all.” The lilt in her voice told him she was being truthful. “I’d love the company.”

“Okay.” He snuggled his old dog for a moment, then rose and picked up Cedar’s harness. “We’ll see how she acts when I walk out the door.”

He gave the forward command as Lynne opened her front door, and Cedar led him straight across the hall to stop in front of his own door. “What did she do?” he asked.

“She went back to the kitchen and lay down on the rug again.”

He chuckled, although he felt vaguely hurt. “Traitor.” He extended his right hand, realizing that he was anticipating the touch of hers just a little too much. “Thank you for dinner. And again, for the cookies.”

She placed her hand in his, and the physical awareness that had simmered all through dinner hit him squarely in the solar plexus.

Lynne stilled as their hands clasped. Stilled completely, as if she were frozen. His body began to stir to life at the touch of her soft flesh. Her hand was small and delicate, nearly swallowed by his much-larger one, and he simply held it, unable to make himself release her. Slowly he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand and heard her suck in her breath sharply. Satisfaction rushed through him. She felt it, too.

What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re not interested in a relationship.

Chemistry, he assured himself. That’s all it was. It didn’t mean anything. And yet—he still held her hand clasped in his.

Her telephone rang, shrill in the silence that had fallen between them. He felt her hand jump and let her slide it from his. “That would be my sister,” she said, “calling to commiserate. I guess Dad just told her, too.”

He followed her lead, not acknowledging the moment that had passed, although he was still acutely aware of her. “I’ll let you get that,” he said. “How about we meet in the hallway at ten-thirty to take them out for the night? I’ll teach you her commands then.”

“All right.” She touched his arm briefly, hastily. “Thank you for coming over. See you in a bit.” She dashed back into her own apartment as the phone rang again, and he heard her door close.