by Karis Walsh
Cara laughed as well at the imagined scene. “Baxter seems to be a very dignified fellow. I’m sure he was embarrassed by your somersault off the curb.”
“And then he had to be seen with me in muddy jeans. We were both humiliated, but we’ve learned to work together since then.”
Cara was relieved when Sheryl came over with a cardboard tray full of drinks. The picture of Lenae in dirty jeans was too damned appealing. She thanked Sheryl for the coffee and trailed behind the group as they walked the short distance back to the training center. She noticed every street crossing and obstacle Toby had led her past, amazed at how little awareness of her surroundings she’d had on the way there. Even without the blindfold, she let her other senses open like she should have while on the walk with Toby. Such a brief exercise, but her world seemed to have grown. She hoped she wouldn’t forget the experience soon, reverting back to her flat way of seeing.
Once they had returned to the center, she and Lenae recorded a short discussion about the puppy walkers. Although Cara now had a better understanding of the gift they were offering the dogs and their new handlers, she still found it a sad prospect to love an animal only to let it go. She asked a few questions but let Lenae set the tone of the discussion without adding her belligerent opinion. She would have liked to visit with the puppies again, but George was signaling for her to hurry because the light was fading.
Cara spoke her closing remarks in front of the outdoor dog kennels, the most photogenic place on the property—mainly due to the animals in the runs, not the runs themselves. She hoped they wouldn’t have to come back to reshoot any of the footage, like they had with the Baers. The segment was a sure hit, but Cara had felt too many conflicting emotions to be comfortable with the afternoon. She had felt out of her element and exposed during the walk with Toby. Unable to truly let go of control—not wanting to let go of control. The animals had saved the day. They were friendly and seemed to love people, a testament to Lenae’s training methods, if not to her personality.
Lenae was an enigma. Unreadable and closed, with flashes of humor and personality. Cara wasn’t sure what to make of her, except that she felt uncomfortable and off-kilter in Lenae’s presence. She thought she’d be relieved to hit the road, to spin tall tales and joke about Lenae’s scandalous ulterior motives when George asked for the real story, but instead, when he asked, she only said, “I don’t know.”
Chapter Five
Cara kept replaying the filming of Lenae’s segment while she dressed for dinner. Lenae had seemed defensive and distant at times, but the dogs in her care were happy and full of life. Did she come to life once the cameras were off?
Cara added another layer of makeup to her face. From the Baer house to Lenae’s to tonight before dinner, she had been gradually building on the foundation she had put on before she’d left her house that morning. She touched up her mascara, so her lashes de-emphasized tired green eyes, and put a new coat of lip gloss over the ones she had worn off while she talked all day. Pleated black slacks and a silky magenta shell replaced the more casual clothes she’d had on at Lenae’s center.
She hadn’t had a chance to find out about the real Lenae after the filming had finished. She hadn’t wanted to stick around for her usual post-shooting chat, when masks were dropped and she was able to uncover the passion and personality of the subjects of her show. Instead, she had used tonight’s obligation as an excuse to leave as soon as the main filming had finished.
She had considered bringing a date to tonight’s monthly family dinner, but she had been disappointed too many times in the past. At first, she had been surprised each time she realized the woman she’d thought was a potential long-term girlfriend was merely an aspiring starlet hoping to be invited into the Bradleys’ world. Later, she had tried not to care whether her dates were only interested in her looks or her name. But the superficial desires of those women, combined with the coldness of her family, had left her numb.
Worse than numb. She had been left wondering whether there really was more to her than the surface everyone seemed to see. She made her cynical jokes about the people she interviewed, felt the customary letdown of disbelief in true self-sacrifice and goodness, because she didn’t have any proof that they existed in her own life. She observed them, yes, on a regular basis. But she had no idea what it would feel like to live them.
Lenae had been different somehow. There was something real about her. She was prickly and distant. Human. Not a Pollyanna, perfect-world kind of do-gooder that Cara couldn’t imagine existing in real life, day after day, regardless of life’s ups and downs. Lenae must have reasons for her defenses, although Cara wasn’t going to find out what they were—nor did she want to.
Cara drove north from her home in Olympia, through heavy rush hour traffic in Seattle, to her parents’ home on Mercer Island. The sun had set, and the lights from the Island’s houses reflected off the choppy water of Lake Washington.
“Darling! Come in. You look adorable tonight.” Lydia, her mother, greeted her with a kiss on each cheek. Cara wondered who else had been invited to eat with them, since her mom wouldn’t welcome her so enthusiastically if no one outside the family was there.
“Come meet Talia. She’s the new arts critic for the Times. She just moved to Seattle, so we wanted to welcome her to our beautiful city.”
Ah, the kiss and welcome were explained. Cara said hello, but Talia seemed to have eyes only for Richard, Cara’s brother. Cara sat on the love seat and watched the scene unfold as a spectator this time, not as a participant, while Richard leaned back in his chair, as regal as he was when playing a king in a Shakespearean play. He encouraged Talia’s attention, bestowing his charming smiles on her and asking about her past. Cara knew his attention wouldn’t survive beyond the night—he was content with his seemingly endless string of casual boyfriends—but tonight he acted as if Talia were the guest of honor at a royal banquet.
Cara loved her brother and admired his classically developed talent as an actor, but she saw the chasm of difference between them in the way they responded to flattery and starstruck adoration. Richard, like their parents, came alive with the attention. They were animated and kinder to one another than when they were in private. They sparkled with the very star quality that Talia wanted to see. Cara, on the other hand, withdrew inside herself even as she kept up the façade of the Bradley name. She had felt empty, hollow, when her name and family—instead of her true self—had been the center of a woman’s attention, whether on dates or at parties and openings. Maybe her family recognized the shallowness of Talia’s interest, but they seemed to thrive on it, believe they deserved it. Talia’s kind of attention only made Cara grow less certain that there was anything deeper to see in any of the Bradleys, even herself.
“Your mother has some incredible news for you, Cara.” Her father pulled her to the center of the conversation. She had been quite comfortable hanging out on the edges of it.
“Howard, you spoiled my big reveal.” Lydia shook her head in Talia’s direction, with the long-suffering but indulgent smile of a doting wife. Cara wanted to gag, and she had a feeling whatever news her mother had would make the reflex even worse. “I was waiting for the perfect time to tell her.”
Cara took a drink of her scotch and soda. “Tell me what, Mother?”
Lydia put her hands together as if she was praying and pressed her index fingers against her lips for a moment—drawing out the suspense—before she spread her hands wide. “I got you a part on my sitcom.”
“A…what?” Cara had been mesmerized by the gestures her mom was making, and wondering how many different movements she had practiced in a mirror before choosing this one, so she was caught off guard by the pronouncement.
“A part, dear. On my show.” Lydia turned to Talia. “Did you know I act in a little sitcom? A darling show. I’m quite proud of it. I play the matriarch of a large family—I’m wealthy, and my children are all vying for my fortune. You’d play my maid, Cara.
The part is small, but there are some quite funny moments. It would be great exposure for you, with a chance to be seen on television. Do stop gaping at me like that, dear.”
Cara managed to close her mouth, but she struggled for words. Richard shrugged and sighed when she looked to him for support—he understood but wouldn’t step in. “I’m already on television. Every week.”
“Yes, of course you are.” Howard leaned over and patted her on the knee. “But that’s public television. This would be a nationally syndicated show. You’d be seen by millions instead of the handful of people who watch you grubbing through the mud.”
“I wasn’t…the segment was about a man who’s restoring native plants to the prairie habitats in the region. I was helping him with some seedlings.”
Howard and Lydia both gave similar waves of dismissal. Talia watched the family interchange with interest, and Cara figured she was wishing she had a pen and pad with her for taking notes. “Mother, I am not playing your maid on TV or anywhere else. I don’t care how many people see my show. I do it because I like sharing stories about people who are doing good things for others and for the environment, not because I want my face on television.”
Lydia gave a dramatic sniff. “I wish you knew how hard I worked to get this opportunity for you. Howard, talk some sense into your daughter.”
“Really, Cara, why don’t you do the show? If only to make your mother happy. You’ll still have time to film your little program.”
Cara deliberately set her drink on the table before she flung the glass against a wall. Despite her jokes and cynical repartee with George, she knew her program was getting people and organizations the funding and volunteers they so desperately needed. Her work was worthwhile. She grasped the memory of walking with Toby that afternoon. How important he would be to someone who was traveling through the world without sight. She had felt lost and isolated simply wearing a blindfold for a few minutes, and he had guided her safely. How much more meaningful would the experience be when his new owner picked up the harness and took those first steps with him? And now Cara had played a small part in sharing Lenae’s story with the public.
“My little show helps people. Just today I interviewed a guide-dog trainer named Lenae McIntyre. She needs money for her center and people to volunteer as puppy walkers, and because her segment will be shown on my program, she’ll have a chance to get what she needs.”
“Lenae McIntyre?” Talia asked. “The newswriter for Three-N?”
“Yes. At least she was.” Cara was aware of the sudden change in the room. Suddenly her show was interesting to these people, not just her target audience. “She left the network and runs her center full-time now.”
“But she’ll still have contacts in the industry, of course,” Lydia said. “What’s a puppy walker, Cara? It sounds adorable!”
At least her parents were no longer concerned with the role of the maid. Cara should have been relieved. Happy, even, since her family pestered her throughout dinner for information about the segment she had filmed at Lenae’s, as if her work mattered to them. But she knew it didn’t. She was aware their interest would only last as long as they thought the connection with Lenae might open some doors with Three-N or elsewhere. Even though they were asking about the show she had produced today, they seemed unable to grasp the reality of her experience. She had a feeling they were picturing her in the future—sitting in the anchor position and not walking to Starbucks with Toby.
Chapter Six
Lenae set down the braille book she had been reading and walked into the kitchen. She shut off the beeping microwave and took out the leftover lasagna she had reheated. The smell of basil and garlic filled the air as she gathered a fork and napkin and carried her dinner to the dining-room table. She heard the click of toenails as Baxter came into the room and lay down at her feet, gnawing on the bone she had given him earlier that evening.
She ate with her left hand while her right skimmed the mystery novel she was reading. The day had been stressful, but worthwhile. Filming the television show, arguing with Cara, feeling the stress of everything that could have gone wrong. Cara’s defensive attitude—admittedly matched by Lenae’s own—had been short-lived, and they had been able to return to a professional level. Toby had behaved beautifully. Lenae wasn’t sure what would happen during editing, but she hoped the center would get the positive publicity it needed.
Lenae went back to her fridge and got a can of parmesan cheese. She walked easily through the rooms in her suite above the center’s office. She rarely had guests in her home, preferring to meet in restaurants when she got together with friends, because home was her sanctuary, the one place she could be certain no one would move objects or change anything. Her movement was free and unrestricted here, and she had been through the house so many times she no longer had to count paces. Here, Baxter was her companion and pet, not her guide, and she was as mobile as someone with sight.
She touched the edge of her plate to orient herself before pouring some cheese in her palm and sprinkling it on her food. She needed this haven tonight. She still had to find two more puppy walkers, and the center seemed to be perpetually in debt. Even though she wanted to ignore the disrepair she couldn’t see, Des had been nagging her to get the grounds in better shape. She hated spending money on anything besides her dogs, but the first impressions people got when they came to the center mattered more than she wanted to admit. Plus, she had overheard an embarrassing debate between George and Sheryl over which camera angles would best hide the weedy lawn and unpainted fencing. Her five-year plan to make the training program a success had to include some cosmetic improvements.
She didn’t worry too much about how her place would come across on the screen, though. She had formed her own opinions about what Cara looked like based on her voice, and she doubted anyone would notice much beyond Cara’s beauty when she was in the shot. Des had made some comments about Cara’s appearance in response to Lenae’s casual questioning, and she had learned that Cara had blond hair with reddish highlights, green eyes, and was very slender. The actual details didn’t mean much to Lenae, but the associations helped her form an idea of Cara. Her hair had some of the same tones people had mentioned when talking about Baxter’s coat. Green for her eyes brought to mind the fir trees so prevalent in the Northwest, with their soft and waxy needles and resiny-sweet scent. Lenae had been able to determine Cara’s size based on her voice and the delicate bones of her wrist. Their contact had been brief, but having touched her, Lenae would be able to identify the texture and feel of Cara’s skin from among hundreds of people.
It was rare for her to have such a strong impression of another person after a brief meeting. There’d be vague associations—usually words like names or occupations—but she felt as if she’d recognize Cara immediately by touch, by the scent of oranges and cream, by the liquid of her voice…
“We’ll have to assume I’m right,” she said to Baxter. He sat up and rested his head on her thigh. She picked a chunk of mozzarella from her lasagna and fed it to him. “Because I’m never going to have a chance to test my hypothesis.”
*
“I wrote a list of the improvements we need to make around here,” Des said at their next morning meeting. “Yesterday during the filming, I looked at this place differently, like someone who was showing up for the first time. We need to fix it up.”
Lenae had been dwelling on the prior day’s events as well—namely on distracting thoughts of Cara. What she needed was to put her mind on the dogs and the future of her center, not on the television crew’s visit. She ran her fingertips quickly over the list Des had converted to braille.
“Reseed the lawn? Repair the fence around the obstacle course? Paint the house?” She held the paper in front of her and he took it out of her hand. “All of those things take money and time we just don’t have. Most of the people coming here will be—”
“I know, I know. Our clients will be vision impaired and will be m
ore interested in meeting their dogs than caring about the lawn or the house. But we’ll have other visitors, too. People who want to donate time or money. Representatives from corporations offering grants. If they see this place in disrepair, it might affect their decisions.”
“Maybe they’ll decide that we desperately need their money.” Lenae heard the grumbling in her voice. She felt grouchy, but didn’t need to take it out on Des. He wasn’t the one who had given her a sleepless night. Cara, who probably knew all too well that looks were the secret to success, had been the one consuming her thoughts. “You’re right. Much as I dislike the idea, improving the way the center looks will have to be a priority. But it’s not our top priority. We’ll just have to do those projects as we can, over the next year. Now, let’s talk about the dogs.”
“Toby did awesome yesterday.” Des couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. Lenae felt the same. The dog had been wonderful, even with an inexperienced handler. He had followed direction well but had taken the initiative when he had needed to protect Cara. “He and the other two are ready for next week. I can’t wait until we pair them with their new owners.”
“There’s nothing like it,” Lenae said. She had been present for meetings between anxious new handlers and guide dogs before, but Des hadn’t. “Be prepared for an overload of emotions. Most will be joyous and excited, but there will also be fear. Even anger because the person doesn’t want to face the need for guidance and help. But bear with it because after a week or so, everything will settle. What about the dogs entering the program? What’s your evaluation of them?”