“It does,” Brian agreed. “Johnny is good. Hey, can I try one of your melatonin’s? I need a good night’s sleep.”
“Sure.” She rose and went to get the bottle. She picked it up then held it out to him. “They work really well.”
He took the bottle from her. “Thanks.”
He popped one and got into bed. He turned on his side, facing away from her. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she said as she got into bed, too.
He waited in silence, staying still, as he felt every movement she made, heard every sound, and imagined what touching her in this bed would be like.
She moved around in the bed, making the mattress move, as she wiggled to get comfortable.
With a huge effort, he forced his thoughts to something else. The only thing he could come up with was the date he’d plan for them once they got to San Diego and where he might take her to dinner. Then the melatonin kicked in and, as she’d said, it worked.
Tonight however, she didn’t sleep all the way through. One of her nightmares woke her.
Groggy with sleep, he heard her cry out.
“Help me, there’s a fire,” she mumbled.
He felt her rolling in the bed like a crocodile, lost in the dream, before her hand reached out to him, landing on his belly.
His stomach muscles clenched at her sudden touch.
And then she was next to him, her soft round breasts up against him, her hand smooth on his muscled belly, and down below, his quick and hard response to her touching his bare skin wasn’t something he could ignore.
He wanted her. Now.
But she was in the midst of a bad dream, so this was not the time to get horny, and then naked together.
This is not how our first time will be. She’ll be fully awake and freely saying yes to sex, or we won’t be having sex.
He’d known sleeping in this bed with her was a bad idea. But now, she needed him, so he held her close, and said, “Cecelia, baby, wake up. You’re having a bad dream. But you’re okay. You’re safe.”
She woke slow, groggy, yet seeming to want to burrow in against his warmth and strength, holding onto him as if that would keep her safe.
He tightened his arms around her and repeated the words, “You’re okay.”
When she was fully awake, her face flushed red, and she pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to rub up against you like that.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand you were dreaming, and you were scared. And I don’t mind holding you. In fact,” he held open his arms, and then, remembering she couldn’t see the gesture, he reached for her hand and tugged as if to pull her to him. “You can come back, come snuggle, if you want to. I’ll just hold you.”
“You’ll just hold me?” The look she gave him was incredulous.
“Damn, baby, what kind of self-centered assholes have you been dating?” he said. “Of course, I’ll just hold you. Come back over here.”
With her eyes wide, she moved back into his arms.
Before she fell asleep again, her cheek against his chest, she said, “They really were assholes. Every single one.”
His response was to squeeze her once, kiss the top of her forehead, and say, “Sleep now.”
Within seconds, she was softly snoring.
It took him nearly another hour to fall asleep again.
In the morning, they both moved apart, and he went into the bathroom first, not wanting her to know he was aroused from holding her all night.
It had been a sweet torture for him when he was awake, but he would have done it for her again, without hesitation. She had needed him.
When he came back out, everything was under control.
They both got ready to leave, neither mentioning the night before.
It wasn’t until they’d both eaten half their omelets and drank some coffee that either of them felt like broaching the subject.
“I…,” She hesitated as she spoke, looking down at her plate. “I liked sleeping in your arms last night.”
Why is she looking down? There’s nothing she can see on her plate. This is an emotional thing, not a sight thing. She doesn’t need to look down when she talks to me.
He placed his finger under her chin and raised her face. “Hey, beautiful,” he said. “I want to see your beautiful face. Don’t hide from me. You can tell me anything.”
She blinked, and then looked straight toward him. “I liked it. I liked it a lot.”
“I liked it, too.” His thumb paused on her lips. “I’m going to enjoy kissing you.”
“I’m going to enjoy that as well,” she said.
“So, we’ll reach San Diego tonight,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m excited about our date.”
“Me, too.” He let go of her chin and lips and picked up his fork. “Eat up, we need to get going soon.”
She picked up her fork. “Yes, we do.”
Chapter 5
When they reached San Diego, they went straight to Sharp Memorial Hospital. He parked the truck in the visitors’ parking lot, and they walked to the entrance.
“I can do the elevators myself,” she said. “They’ll have braille posted.”
“Okay,” he said.
Inside the hospital, he waited, letting Cecelia press the elevator button instead of doing it for her. He really had to curb his tendency to take charge and help, so she wouldn’t feel like he thought she couldn’t do something. But all in all, they were getting along well, and learning how to be together easily and comfortably.
As they stood waiting for it to open, he looked at the braille near the UP button and the braille near the DOWN button. Things he’d never paid much attention to before.
Cecelia stood with a cheerful look on her face as she waited for the elevator to ding.
“Do you find most places have braille for you to read buttons or signs, or is it an issue?” he asked.
“Depends on the place,” she said. “Many blind people can read braille, most do not,” she said. “We’re not one size fits all, so you have to ask people. Some of us use canes, some have dogs, some read braille, some do not.”
Ding.
The elevator doors opened, and Cecelia moved forward, using her cane.
“I’ve got the door,” he said, as he reached for it, to hold it open for her.
“Thank you,” she said, and then she moved past him into the elevator, reaching the back then turning to face out.
After stepping inside, he pressed the fourth-floor button, and the doors closed. He stood beside her, wondering if she would be nervous about elevators if he weren’t there with her.
The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, and they got out and headed down the corridor.
One of the nurses walking toward them rolled a stand with fluids for a patient.
“Excuse me,” Cecelia said, as her cane bumped into the leg of the stand.
“You’re fine, sweetheart,” the nurse said. “Can I help you find a patient?”
“Yes. Sam Whitaker.”
“She’s in room 417, past the nurse’s station in the corner.” The nurse eyed Brian as she gave them directions.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Oh, thank you,” Cecelia said, sending a beaming smile in the nurse’s direction.
“You’re quite welcome,” the nurse said, smiling in return.
Brian noted again the reaction people had to Cecelia.
Does she have any idea how often she makes others smile? How much she brightens our lives?
That was something he wanted to tell her, when the time was right.
Maybe tonight at dinner.
When Brian picked Cecelia up at Sam’s house, she was wearing a sleeveless, flowered dress and sandals.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“Just one little thing,” he said.
She looked toward him, waiting.
He reached to the back of her neck, and then tucked the tag of her dress back down beneath her dress. “Perfect.”
She blushed and reached behind her neck, to make sure her dress was now right. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
He placed his hand on the small of her back and walked with her to his truck. There, he opened the door for her.
As she climbed into his truck, he said, “I’m taking you to Coronado Beach after dinner. You can walk on the same beach Marilyn Monroe walked on, when filming Some Like it Hot.”
“Isn’t that also where the Navy SEALs train?”
“Yes. It’s one of the places they train,” he said.
He closed her door and went around to the driver’s side and got in. Starting the truck up, he said, “Hungry?”
“Yes,” she said. “A little bit.”
Cecelia’s stomach was full of butterflies. This was their first official date. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat.
But this is Brian.
It wasn’t like she didn’t know him. She tried to ignore the butterflies and just enjoy his company as she always had.
There’s so much pressure on a first date. And on a first kiss. That’s enough to make anyone nervous.
“I’m taking you to Tom Ham’s Lighthouse Restaurant,” he said. “It’s right on the water, and there’s an actual functioning lighthouse, known as Beacon Number Nice, on the U.S Coast Guard maps that they incorporated into the design. So, it’s a well-known landmark in San Diego.”
“Oh, wow,” she said. “That sounds very cool.”
There wasn’t a hint in her expression or her voice that she wished she could see the landmark and the ocean. Only an excitement to go and experience it.
He’d purposefully chosen a place that would be near the water, so she could hear it and smell the scents of the ocean.
They were seated outside, as close to the water as they could get, after he pressed a twenty into the palm of the person in charge of seating arrangements, saying, “I want to be as near the ocean as we can be,” and then gesturing to Cecelia so the man would understand he was doing this for her.
He’d put a lot of thought into where he might take her. Candlelight or decorations on the walls weren’t what he was looking for, but this was. She might hear the water lapping or the gulls cawing.
It seemed he’d chosen well, because every so often, she would pause and be still, listening, and then she would smile and carry on.
There was immense pleasure in seeing how much she was enjoying herself, at happiness glowing on her face.
She enjoyed her Caesar salad and a bite of his lobster bisque soup, which he delivered to her on his spoon, being careful not to spill it. Both their movements were slow, cautious, much like their date. It seemed the ease of their companionship had changed once what they were on an official date. Everything moved slowly, like the waves lapping upon the shore and the boats shifting against the docks as the sun went down.
They were both very quiet.
“Good?” he asked her to break the quiet.
“Very good,” she said.
“If you’d like more, I’d be happy to share,” he said. “Or we could order you a cup or a bowl.”
“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not eating soup in a nice restaurant. It’s too easy to drip.”
“It’s okay, Cecelia,” he said. “No one’s looking. There’s just us and the water to the side here. No one is watching you.”
“No, I’m fine,” she said, sticking her fork into another piece of romaine. “I am enjoying the salad.”
She’d ordered seared scallops, and he wondered if that would be enough. Maybe he could convince her to have dessert. And maybe she would try some of his paella, which came with saffron rice, fish, shrimp, chicken, chorizo, mussels, clams, peas and peppers. Much more than he would be able to eat.
And he had enjoyed feeding her the soup. He would happily feed her anything she wanted.
“Do you know that your smile can light up the whole room?” he asked.
“No,” She blushed.
“You bring so much joy to everyone around you,” he said.
“I, thank you,” she said, seeming embarrassed by the turn in conversation.”
“And here is our main course,” he said.
“They smell delicious,” she said.
The food was delicious, and she did try several bites of the different things in his paella.
Later when they were done, she turned down dessert.
“We can always get an ice cream, after we walk on the beach, if your sweet tooth kicks in,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m so full now though, I have no desire for a sweet.”
The waiter brought the check, and Brian paid for their meal, leaving a good tip.
“Ready to go?” he asked. “Or would you like to enjoy this for a bit longer.” He could always add on a coffee if she wanted to linger.
“I’m ready,” she said. “The air is cooler now that the sun is down. I think it might be chilly later.”
“True.” He stood, pushing his chair back, and moved around to her chair.
She rose, accepted his arm, and as they were walking toward the entrance she leaned in and said, “I need to find a ladies room.”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll take you there and wait outside.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Of course,” he said.
He took her to the door of the ladies’ room and said, “Straight ahead.”
She pulled her collapsible cane out of her bag, and after putting it together, used it as she moved forward and pushed on the door.
This had been their routine many times on the trip out to San Diego, and he was quite used to it by now.
If they were going to be together long term, and he had the feeling that they were, this would become a pattern neither of them even thought about in the future.
Like watching his grandfather with his grandmother.
There had been something so loving about the way they’d looked after each other. He’d known since he was a young boy that, if he ever married, he wanted the relationship to be just like theirs.
Those manners though, they seemed to be from another time.
He wondered what his grandparents would have said about that, and what they would have thought of Cecelia. He was almost certain they both would have approved of his new girlfriend.
Tonight, he would kiss her. Normally he wouldn’t have told her ahead of time, but he just couldn’t see how to handle a first kiss any other way when the woman was blind.
What if she doesn’t see it coming and it startles her, taking her too much by surprise?
He wasn’t going to risk that. He didn’t want anything to go wrong. With Cecelia, he would ask before he made any moves, and he would wait for each yes from her.
When she came out from the ladies’ room, she put her cane away again and took hold of his arm. Then she smiled up at him. “Ready,” she said.
He walked her to the truck and helped her in. “Ready to walk on the beach?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s leave our shoes. I like to feel the sand beneath my feet.”
“Okay,” he said. “There’s a spot near the entrance where we can leave them. Then we won’t have to carry them.”
“Good,” she said.
He drove them to the parking area that they would have to walk from, and then he got out, came around to open her door, and helped her down again.
He threaded his hand through hers and began to walk slowly with her, toward the beach.
Once they reach the entrance, he picked a place for them to leave their shoes. They took off their shoes and left them.
He would hold her hand and he would help her if she had trouble on the sand or in the water.
They walked toward the water’s edge, where the sand was wet and cooler. Now
that the sun was down, the sand and the water would cool more and more, releasing the warmth the sun had put there all day.
She stopped and wiggled her toes into the wet sand, and then giggled. When she repeated the movements, her giggle became bigger.
“Does it tickle?” he asked, his feet getting wet and somewhat chilled.
“Yes, and it’s cold, but I love it,” she said, her voice breathy and full of joy. “I haven’t done this in forever.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he said and smiled.
“When I lived in Atlantic Beach, North Carolina, that’s where the Rosewood Center is, I was newly blind.” She grew serious. “I was afraid of everything. Noises in the house at night, bumping into things or falling down the stairs, going out on the deck, falling down on the dunes. But mostly I was afraid of walking toward the ocean. And of touching it.”
“I can understand that,” he said.
“I felt like the waves would come in and pull me right back out, and I would fall down under the water and never come up again. And because the ocean is so big and powerful and can do that, I wouldn’t walk near it for the longest time.
But then one day, I did, with the help of all my sisters there. Two held my hands, and one held onto me from behind, and I could hear the others. None of them were going to let the ocean take me. So, I went with them and I stood, just like this, and let the water touch my toes and come in and go out again, and I was reborn, like a child who had just learned to love a new thing. They gave the ocean and the beach back to me, those sisters. And I will love them forever for it.”
He had tears in his eyes, hearing her story, and he squeezed her hand but didn’t speak.
“It’s good that you’re holding my hand,” she said. “But I think you can let go this time.”
“Okay,” he said, and he let go.
She stretched out her fingers, and then pulled them back in and took one step forward. The water rolled in and rolled out. Then did it again.
He watched her face for any sign of fear, but what he saw instead was courage, and a large smile starting to spread across her face. He didn’t need her to tell him that she was conquering more of her fears.
And he was so very proud of her.
Blind Trust Page 5