by Karis Walsh
Table of Contents
Synopsis
By the Author
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
About the Author
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
Guide dog trainer Lenae McIntyre left the high-speed world of television news writing behind, and now she helps other visually impaired people adjust to life with their canine companions. She teaches her students and their dogs to trust each other, but a past betrayal and the determination to be self-sufficient and independent keep her from trusting her heart to see love.
Cara Bradley compensates for her family's shallow celebrity lifestyle by devoting her life to helping others, while keeping to the background. She reluctantly commits to a year of puppy walking a four-legged whirlwind named Pickwick so she can film regular segments for a local news program while helping promote the McIntyre Training Center, but she is unprepared for the changes that the driven and aloof Lenae will bring to her life.
Blindsided by love, can Lenae and Cara learn to trust and guide each other toward a new vision for their future?
Blindsided
Brought to you by
eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.
Blindsided
© 2014 By Karis Walsh. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-121-5
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: August 2014
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Ruth Sternglantz
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Harmony
Worth the Risk
Sea Glass Inn
Improvisation
Mounting Danger
Wingspan
Blindsided
Acknowledgments
Blindsided was written while I was in transition from Washington to Texas, and I’d like to thank all the people who helped make the move and the writing easier for me.
Thank you to Mom and Dad for wandering around Evergreen’s campus while I took notes for this book.
Thanks especially to Dad for driving cross-country with me through snow and hail and lightning, and to Susan for sharing the adventure of driving two thousand miles with two goats and a cargo van. I cherish the memory of both trips.
Thank you to my editor, Ruth Sternglantz, for her encouragement and understanding of my scattered obligations during this time. As always, thank you to Rad, Sheri, and the BSB staff for binding my words in such a beautiful book.
Most of all, thank you to Cindy for every minute of hard work she put into making a home for me and our furry kids here in Texas.
Dedication
To Cindy
For bringing me home.
Chapter One
“Welcome to the Shelton home of Chuck and Linda Baer, a truly inspiring couple who have devoted their lives to an ever-growing family of adopted children.” Cara Bradley paused for a moment while the camera panned to the right and focused on the rambling house behind her. She turned and followed the unblinking stare of the lens, smiling as half a dozen kids—including two on crutches—spilled out of the doorway, right on cue. Even though they had made the same entrance several times, they seemed unrehearsed and happy. Cara’s smile of response came almost reflexively since she had been in front of a camera since birth, but she felt it stretch from a rehearsed expression to a wide grin as the kids came bounding toward her. She was so accustomed to the film-ready smile that she sometimes forgot it wasn’t her real and spontaneous one until moments like these snuck up on her.
“Cut. Got it.” George Zimmer made some adjustments to his camera while he spoke without looking at her. Cara was used to his single-minded focus while on location. He’d talk to her and her producer, Sheryl McCutcheon, but his whole world narrowed to the size of the small glass lens. He rarely seemed to see beyond it until they were back in the van. She had picked these two for her team because they were so dedicated to the work they did. “Let’s get some more footage of you listening to the music.”
“Okay,” Cara said. She linked arms with the oldest Baer child, a sixteen-year-old girl named Alissa. She was blind in one eye and had been adopted from Mexico only a few years earlier. She seemed much older than her age, with a serious but quick mind. Cara walked toward the house with her, mentally reviewing the names and native countries of the other Baers. There were eleven in total, from Alissa down to baby Ang Li, and Cara didn’t want to accidentally mix up names when she spoke to them.
“Do we need to play again?” Alissa asked. She and her two brothers had played some jazz pieces for Cara during her last visit, a little over a week ago. Cara had expected them to be good—after the glowing recommendation from their school music teacher that the kids be featured on Cara’s show—but she had been unprepared for the level of talent she had witnessed. They had not only displayed proficiency, but musicality as well, playing formal compositions and improvising with equal ease.
“No,” she said as they walked into the dim interior of the house. George and Sheryl pushed past her and started setting up lights in the faded living room. “Your performance was perfect the first time. Some of our film was damaged, so we just need to get some more shots of me, and George will edit them in later. I remember the music and can pretend I’m listening.”
Maybe the trio’s performance hadn’t been perfect, but it had been moving and free of self-consciousness or worry over making mistakes. Cara would have enjoyed listening again, but having two different recordings would make editing more difficult. She stood next to a large curio cabinet filled with dusty plaques and trophies—the frozen players on top of each one attested to the variety of sports represented—and let Sheryl fuss with her hair and makeup. The Baer clan settled onto the mismatched green sofas and love seats as if they were about to watch a show. Cara winked at one of the smallest children, and the little boy grinned at her, revealing a gap where his baby teeth had been. Cara was used to the disproportionately long time of checking lighting and sound and her appearance before filming a few seconds of footage, but to the kids the elaborate preparation mu
st have made the filming seem as exciting and involved as a major motion picture. She wanted to assure them that she didn’t like all the prep work and attention paid to how she looked, that it was only a necessary evil as she worked to share stories of love and hope in and around Washington’s Puget Sound region, with her show’s small audience. But she kept quiet and let Sheryl and George buzz around her as if they were about to shoot an Oscar-worthy epic. Because she wasn’t really the star of this show. Today, the Baer kids were, and Cara wasn’t about to deflate the excitement they were obviously feeling as the film crew invaded their home. She’d let them enjoy the limelight without giving in to her personal desire to downplay the process.
“As soon as each new adopted child is settled into the family home, Chuck and Linda begin exposing them to a variety of activities. When interest and aptitude overlap, the child is encouraged to pursue their chosen sport or hobby with dedication and commitment.” Cara paused and looked at the display case beside her. She picked up a trophy with a gilded soccer player on top, leaving a dust-free rectangle in its place, and pretended to read the engraving before she returned her focus to the camera. “From soccer to sewing, baseball to bass guitar, these activities often become the ticket for each child’s future success. There are already six Baer kids in college on full-ride scholarships.” She relaxed while George shifted focus from her to the mementos in the cabinet, emphasizing the diversity of the kids’ achievements.
Cara saw Chuck reach over and wipe his thumb across Linda’s cheekbone. Linda’s eyes were red with tears, and both parents cast looks of such love and pride around the room full of children that Cara had to glance away. She felt the typical tightness in her chest she always experienced when shooting one of her more heartfelt segments. She returned the trophy to the case, carefully aligning it with the dusty edges of the rectangle. Even as she admired the Baers and their talented children, a small part of her mind recalled innumerable interviews in her own childhood home. Her media-loving family had been all smiles and tears, affectionate touches and intimate glances. The results were so authentic-looking that even young Cara had fallen for them the first few times. Until she realized how quickly the affection turned to distance once the cameras were gone. The pretense of family unity had been just another self-serving act. Put on for show, for publicity.
Back to the present. More lighting checks, more makeup smeared across her cheekbones. She had to remind herself that the people around her weren’t her family. Chuck and Linda weren’t trained actors seeking publicity. As far-fetched as the idea often felt to Cara, the Baers seemed to truly want to spread their love as widely as possible. Cara tried to keep that in mind as she sat on the green-and-gold plaid recliner where she’d been placed during the kids’ original jazz session. She leaned on her left elbow and crossed her legs at the ankle, mirroring the position she’d been in a week earlier. No cynicism was allowed to show on her face. Once George began filming, Cara replayed the music in her mind, letting her expression shift along with the remembered dynamics. The room was quiet and no instruments were played, but she heard each note and reacted with an appreciative nod during the bass guitar solo by Trevor, a spontaneous-seeming clap when J.J. finished an intricate riff on his sax, a slight sway of her upper body when Alissa led a particularly melodious section on the piano.
Her performance was refined and nuanced. Was it better than her unrehearsed responses when she had actually been listening to the music, with no preparation? Cara wasn’t sure. Even when she watched herself in uncut footage, she couldn’t see much difference between the moments when she was being her natural self and when she switched to her on-air persona. She was a pretty face on the screen, nothing more.
When she came to the end of the silent playback, Cara grinned and clapped as if she had just experienced a beautifully sung aria at the Met. The entire Baer family applauded after she did.
“Amazing,” Linda said. “You have an excellent memory.”
“And a great sense of rhythm,” Chuck added. “You were tapping your foot during what I remembered was the second movement when J.J. improvised around the melody, and you kept time beautifully. I could almost hear him playing while I was watching you pretend to listen.”
“Um, thanks.” Cara felt an unaccustomed heat in her face at the praise. She was no stranger to glowing comments about her looks or her acting ability, but Chuck’s and Linda’s comments reached deeper somehow. They saw skills, where other people often saw only a hereditary and surface quality in her. She fought against that shallow type of judgment, so why was she more comfortable hearing compliments about her Bradley-family looks than these words about her unique and personal abilities? Maybe because she had a hard time believing her skills were unique.
“Are you a musician, too?” Alissa asked, perching on the arm of Cara’s chair while George and Sheryl began clearing the room of tripods and lights.
“Not like you.” Cara nudged Alissa gently with her elbow. “But I do love to sing. In the car, in the shower. Loudly and off-key, but with joy.”
The family laughed, and Cara took the opportunity to change the subject. She made sure she talked to each of the children—focusing on the ones who hadn’t been featured in the segment for her show—and asked about their hobbies and pets and favorite subjects in school. George moved around in the background and captured some of the conversation on film. This was Cara’s favorite part of the production. The people she interviewed for her public television series, Around the Sound, were often stiff and hesitant to talk when the microphones and lights were pointed in their direction. But after most of the equipment had been moved away, and Cara nudged them into conversations about their passions, they became different people. Open and relaxed. One moment trying to play a part in front of the camera, and the next simply being themselves. Cara loved the clarity of the shift from camera-shy to authentic. She had been raised among trained actors who could play on or off camera with equal ease, so she had never been certain which reactions were true. She wasn’t always sure whether her own behavior was real, half the time. But when it came to people like the Baers, these unstudied moments were the ones that made her show come alive to viewers. They made each story, and each interviewee, come to life for her.
All too soon, Sheryl waved her hand at Cara and pointed at her watch in a not-so-subtle reminder that they had another segment to film today, in the nearby town of Olympia. Cara extricated herself from the group of children that had gathered around her chair. She left with promises to keep in touch and waved out the window until the van had pulled out of the driveway and onto the main road.
Once they were out of sight, Cara took a new outfit off a hanging rod and started to change out of the clothes she had worn during the filming of the jazz session last week and again today for the reshoot. She tugged a yellow polo shirt over her head and tossed it on the seat behind her.
“So, what’s the real story behind the Baer family?” George asked from the driver’s seat.
Cara slipped her arms into a pale blue shirt and buttoned it while she thought. “You know those stuffed monkeys with long arms and Velcro on their paws?” she asked. “The ones people hang on their rearview mirrors?”
George poked at a brown-and-white monkey hanging beside him, making it sway. “I think I’ve seen them around. Somewhere.”
“They’re made in a sweatshop in the Baer basement.” Cara wriggled out of her khakis and replaced them with a pressed pair of deep blue denim jeans. “The children spend their nights slaving away with needles and thread and polyester fiberfill. I’m pretty sure I saw at least one kid with Band-Aids on his fingers from working them to the bone.”
“Always the skeptic.” Sheryl laughed. “I wonder what you’ll come up with for our next interviewee, Lenae McIntyre, the guide-dog trainer.”
Cara raised her hips off the seat and zipped the snug jeans. “I’m not sure yet, but I smell a government conspiracy of some sort. Or perhaps she’s secretly training an army of
robotic dogs so she can take over the world.”
Cara took her hair out of the ponytail she had worn for the Baer story. She combed it and caught a few strands from either side, securing them with a gold barrette. Her jokes about the scandalous truths behind the stories she filmed—always ludicrous and obviously fiction—were standard fare for the van ride home. She had originally started the routine as a way to ease the confusing ache she felt as she drove away from these places where people were acting out kindness and self-sacrifice in their daily lives. She went through the same gamut of emotions every time she filmed a new segment for her show. She’d get excited during the research phase and feel the swell of warmth during the shooting. But after, in a way she couldn’t explain, the foundation of her emotions would crumble. She’d wonder if she’d been duped, or had missed some clue about the reality of the situation. Because people couldn’t really live this way—connecting with and touching others, working tirelessly to protect people or animals or the environment with little thought to their own needs. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, she couldn’t entirely stamp out her thought that people like the Baers—so proudly supporting the kids they’d adopted as their own—could actually exist. Her pure response to the stories she told was tainted by the nagging thought that once the crew drove away, the phony façade was dropped and people reverted to a self-centered state. She never stayed around long after the cameras shut off, so she didn’t have any real frame of reference except for the memory of her own family.
Cara looked through her notes while Sheryl used a battery-operated curling iron on her hair. Yes, she always experienced this letdown after filming, but she kept going because of the hope that eventually she’d believe the inspirational stories she saw with her own eyes and on the television screen when she watched her show.