He turned and followed Micah’s footsteps out of the theater. He took the collapsible white cane out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. He hated the thing, the symbol of what he’d lost, but when he was in unfamiliar territory, he needed to use it. He had enough bruises on his shins as it was, and he wasn’t vain enough to want a broken leg to prove he could manage on his own.
“Tell me all about the people in the cast. What do they look like? What do they do? Where do they live? How long have they been part of your theater company? You know, since I can’t see them, I need to imagine them.”
Nick heard Micah lock the theater doors behind them and walked beside him over to the SUV. He heard the click as the door unlocked, and he climbed into the vehicle, fastening his seat belt. He missed driving. He’d loved the thrill of speeding along the autobahns in a convertible at one hundred ninety kilometers an hour, the wind in his hair, and the exhilaration making his heart pound. He sighed. Those days were gone. He hated being a passenger, but driving was not an option. Perhaps if he’d insisted on driving that night … No! He wouldn’t go down that road again. Not now, not ever. There was nothing to be gained that way. Micah started the vehicle.
“Well,” Nick asked, “are you going to tell me about the cast or not?”
His brother-in-law laughed. “Okay. Let’s see. Jesus, that’s Jeff Williamson, has been with the company the longest. He’s actually a plumber; he’s tall, over six feet, probably a little chunkier than the normal actors who take on the role, but he has a great voice. A couple of years ago, we did Oklahoma, and he was Curly McLain; he did a terrific job. He’s almost bald; that year he kept the Stetson on; this year he’s wearing a wig. He and Amber — you know, the outspoken one you met earlier — are engaged.”
Micah went on to describe each member of the cast, driving Nick crazy because the only one he really wanted to know about was Misty, and the way Micah was dragging out the descriptions, Nick had a feeling the man had figured that out.
“That’s it,” Micah said. He laughed at what Nick assumed was the stunned expression on his face. “Did I forget someone?”
“You know damn well you did. The reason you got me here in the first place was to flaunt her in my face,” Nick growled, and Micah laughed.
“I guess you’re interested in my secret weapon. Misty Starr, the newest member of the cast, moved here about eight months ago. She’s Amos Starr’s daughter-in-law — well, common-law style, I suppose.”
Disappointment, sharper than anything he’d felt in some time, engulfed Nick. As he had suspected, she was taken. Of course she was. Someone with that much heart and soul wouldn’t be overlooked.
Micah continued to speak. “She has a four-year-old daughter, Debbie, who’s cute as a button. She’s got these dark brown pigtails and big blue eyes. Misty’s the secretary at the elementary school. She’s got a hell of a set of pipes on her, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she has an incredible voice,” Nick agreed, suddenly morose, deciding to rub a little salt in his wounds and make himself feel even worse. “I don’t remember you mentioning her husband. Is he in the cast?”
“Didn’t I mention Trent?” Micah asked.
“No, you didn’t. My eyes may not work, but my ears and my memory are excellent,” said Nick, his voice sharper than he’d wanted it to be.
Micah laughed. “Relax, buddy. Our lovely songbird is unattached. She and Trent were an item before he was killed overseas. I guess that would give the two of you something in common, except I heard he was a pretty decent guy, unlike … ” He left the rest unsaid. There had been no love lost between Micah and his sister-in-law.
Nick tried to suppress the optimism that filled him. “Since you seem unwilling to volunteer the information, I’ll just ask. Does her appearance match her voice?”
Micah laughed. “Down, boy! Are you asking me if she’s hot?”
Nick chuckled. He’d never been able to get anything past Micah. They’d been friends long before they’d become related. It had been Micah who’d introduced him to Rebecca, something his best friend had regretted more than once over the years, and he’d been the one to help Nick pick up the pieces after the accident.
“Well, is she?” It felt good to feel something other than emptiness and guilt.
“As we used to say, she’s smokin’! Seriously, she’s about five foot five, has dark red, almost mahogany-colored hair that she wears short like a pixie cap, and the most beautiful big turquoise eyes you’ve ever seen. When you look at her, you just fall into those gorgeous eyes. It’s the first thing people notice about her. She’s got a button nose covered with ginger freckles; I’m actually surprised she isn’t more of a strawberry blonde with her skin tone, but … Don’t tell Laura I said this! She’s built the way a woman should be, with all the curves in the right places, and has the perfect mouth for kissing, not that I’ve done more than wish her a happy New Year. When she sings, her face is so full of emotion I swear she’d make the angels weep. A couple of guys have asked her out, but she hasn’t shown much interest. She’s devoted to her daughter and the Starrs.”
Nick sighed. Just like that, his spirit deflated. Micah had a way with words, and he could clearly picture Misty in his mind. She sounded too good to be true. Since the accident and Rebecca’s death, he’d shied away from romance. Hell, he’d avoided everything and everyone. He’d left New York City because he couldn’t stand the pity he heard in the voices of his friends and the near panic in the voices of his agent and publisher when they’d realized the cash cow had gone dry.
“The Rusty Nail is up ahead,” said Micah. “We can have a couple before I take you back to that mausoleum you call home.”
Chapter Three
“My house is not a tomb. What have you got against it, anyway?” The humor in Nick’s voice was evident. “I’ll admit the place is a little large and empty, but I need lots of space; I’m less likely to hurt myself that way.”
“Large?” Micah choked back a laugh. “Large is an understatement. A family of ten could move in with you, and you’d never even know they were there. Why’d you bother putting so much money into the place, making an apartment upstairs, if you’re never going to rent it to anyone?”
“I like the location,” Nick stated. “Believe me, if the right person shows up and needs a place to stay, I’ll rent it. I may be blind, but I know the place is considered prime real estate. Anyone would love it there.”
“You’ve got ten acres of property with the waterfront to match and a beautiful, century-old mansion. What’s not to love? Laura and I would move in in a shot, but that might be just a little too much family time.” He laughed.
“Don’t get me wrong, but you’re just too moody to live with; you always were. If you don’t want to rent it year-round, you should consider letting it go for the summer. We’d gladly move in as caretakers. You’ve got houses all over the world; you could visit one of them. You’d make a nice chunk of change; besides, you’re alone too much. You should let Roberts move up here.”
“I don’t need the money. I’ll rent it when I’m ready. I’m not ready to travel alone just yet. As for Roberts, he’s tying up loose ends in the city. I expect he’ll be down in a couple of weeks, and when he gets here, no doubt he’ll be harder to get rid of than bed bugs in a cheap hotel.”
Micah laughed. “I knew I liked that guy; he’s got that stick-with-it mentality lacking in so many these days. If you don’t want him as a personal assistant, I’ll hire him; he’d make a hell of a car salesman.”
Nick chuckled. “He probably would.”
Micah pulled into the nearly empty parking lot and parked the SUV. They crossed the lot together, and when Micah opened the door, Nick followed him inside. The pub, the only bar in town open on Tuesday nights, was quiet. Despite the ban on smoking indoors in New York state, the place maintained its odor of old cigaret
te smoke and beer, probably embedded in the woodwork over the past thirty years.
“Hey, Joe,” called Micah. “How about a couple of cold ones?”
“Coming right up.”
The television set was on, the volume turned down low, but Nick knew the college basketball game — part of March Madness — would have to be almost over.
“Who’s winning?” he asked, indicating the television.
“How’d you do that?” Joe probed, setting the beer down in front of them. “I moved that thing all the way to the other end of the bar, and the sound’s down so low, I can’t hear it myself, even when I’m under the damn thing. Michigan State’s up by ten, but the lead’s been back and forth; Syracuse’s big forward hasn’t been on his game, and the team just can’t seem to hold it together tonight. I think they’re going down. I’ll turn it up a bit.”
Nick took a sip of his beer and listened to the announcers doing the play by play. Joe hadn’t turned the television up much, but Nick could easily make out what was being said. He’d played basketball in college, much to his mother’s dismay. She’d been so afraid he might hurt his hands. He’d played point guard and had his share of hardware. Until the blindness, he’d played pickup and one-on-one with a few friends, and he missed both the game and the camaraderie. He’d heard of a new system where the ball and the backboard emitted sound, an invention that had been the brainchild of some engineering students at Johns Hopkins that would allow the blind to participate in the sport. He planned to get a setup for himself as soon as the kit was available.
There was a great debate about other senses getting stronger when you lost one, but he thought it was more likely that you paid more attention to the others when one was gone. For example, his hearing had always been good, but now he picked up sounds he would have ignored before. So-called white noise became a friend, a companion in the darkness of his days and nights. He opened his window so he could hear the song of the water dancing over the rocks of the small rapids just a bit farther downriver from his new home. He heard the clickety-clack of freight trains, the hum of cars and trucks on the highway, the honking of geese returning from their winter feeding grounds, the mournful hooting of owls, and the sounds made by all kinds of other night creatures that would never have made a dent in his awareness when he could see. During the day, he listened to the songs of the large variety of birds that made the area home and the buzz of flies, mosquitoes, and bees. He’d never realized how noisy nature was.
Another skill he seemed to have unconsciously honed had turned out to be as much a curse as a blessing. He could discern emotion in people’s voices; he could tell when they were angry, frightened, or upset, but most of all, he could tell when they were lying or trying to hide something from him.
As far as he could tell, there’d been no changes to his other senses, but tonight, when he’d walked into that dressing room, he’d recognized the uniqueness of Misty’s scent — pheromones at work? He remembered the musky-spicy aroma of her perfume, probably a body spray or lotion since it wasn’t overpowering, and he’d known it was hers the second they’d been introduced. He’d been able to use it to figure out exactly where she’d been throughout the rehearsal.
He was strongly attracted to a stranger whose scent haunted him and whose voice was etched indelibly on his memory. Just the thought of her had his body responding in a most distracting fashion. He’d never reacted this way to any other woman; not even his wife at the height of their relationship had affected him the way Misty did, and that alone both fascinated and frightened him.
He finished his beer just as the buzzer sounded, ending the game with Michigan up by four. He signaled for another beer, knowing Joe would be watching for his sign.
“That was fast,” said Micah. “So you’re really going to follow through and help out at the school? I didn’t expect you to do that.”
“It’s only for an hour a day until the play is over. There’s a new teacher arriving Monday to take over Jolene’s classes. Nancy Baker, the principal, knows who I am, and it took a lot of persuading to get her to keep it under her hat. We’ll see how long that lasts. Did you say Misty works at the school?”
“Yeah, I did. She’s the secretary for the elementary side. You’ll probably run into her once in a while. What are you grinning about?” Micah asked.
“Nothing, really,” Nick answered. “I’m just looking forward to the next two weeks, and I haven’t had a reason to look forward to anything for a very long time.”
• • •
“Ms. Starr,” lisped a small voice from behind her, “I found a lost man in the hall.”
Misty turned around and froze. The man who’d been occupying her mind far more than he should stood beside the little girl, white cane in hand, the false look of abject terror on his face not quite masking the smile he tried to keep hidden.
“He needs to go to the big school, but I’m not allowed there. Can I leave him here? I know he’s not really part of the lost and found, but I don’t know what else to do.”
The threat of tears in the little girl’s eyes and the worry in her voice touched Misty. “You’ve done exactly the right thing, Karina,” she said, reaching into her desk and handing the child a gold foil star. “Go put this next to your name. You must be very close to a reward by now since you’re always so helpful. And you’re right. All lost items that are found need to be brought to the office. I’ll see that this gentleman gets to the high school.”
The child beamed, and turned to Nick. “She’ll take care of you, mister. Her name’s Ms. Starr, with two r’s.” She smiled, showing the gap left by her missing teeth, and walked quickly out of the office. She spoke loudly over her shoulder, “I know. ‘Don’t run and go right back to class.’”
Nick laughed. “Cheeky little thing, isn’t she?”
“Sorry about that,” Misty said, staring at the man who’d had a starring role in her dreams the previous night. “You just came in the wrong end of the building. You have to come in the far doors to be in the high school.”
“But if I’d done that, I’d have missed the opportunity to avail myself of young Karina’s services and to see you again. By the way, she zeroed in on me the second I came through the door. I must admit the prospect of navigating that hall was daunting.”
“It wouldn’t have been that bad. Classes won’t be out for another fifteen minutes. Our young social secretary must have been in the washroom.” She looked at her watch. “You’re early. How’d you get here? The high school students are at lunch right now. Come on; I’m about to start my lunch break, so I’ll take you to the staff lounge. We have a decent coffeemaker there.”
“I took the town cab; I have Leon on retainer. Coffee sounds great; lead the way.” He offered his arm and collapsed his cane, which disappeared into the pocket of his jacket.
Misty took his arm. “The staff lounge for the elementary school is three doors down. There’s another one for the high school staff, but it’s more crowded. Which would you prefer?”
“The elementary lounge is fine for now. Wouldn’t that hallway be busier than this one?”
“Yes, it would be. Have you had lunch?” she asked, not quite sure what to make of his arrival.
“Yes, I have, but don’t let that stop you from eating. So this is a blended school?”
She led him into the staff room and over to her favorite place to sit, a sofa under the windows where she could enjoy the sun without having it in her eyes.
“Not quite; we’re together in building only; we have separate entrances and staffs. I find it hard to believe Leon dropped you at the wrong door,” she said, a touch of mild accusation in her voice.
“You got me. I asked him to drop me at the elementary door because I wanted to see you again.”
Misty blushed, not sure how to reply to his honesty. It was the last thing she’d ex
pected. She was happy he’d come to see her, even if it was a little unorthodox. School secretaries weren’t supposed to have lunch dates in the school. “How do you like your coffee?” she asked. Could he really be interested in her?
“Cream, two sugars.”
“I’ll be right back.” She went to the fridge, took out her lunch bag containing a ham sandwich, Greek yogurt, and some cookies she’d baked over the weekend. She walked over to the counter, got two coffees, doctored them accordingly, and returned to the sitting area. She placed everything on the coffee table and joined him on the couch.
“The coffee’s a little hot. Do you want it now, or do you want it to sit? I know some people like it hot … ” I’m babbling like a teenager who accidentally got to sit beside the star of the football team. Get a grip!
“I can let it cool a bit. Go ahead, eat your lunch. This is a great place to sit, by the way; I can feel the sunshine.” He removed his jacket. “I didn’t come here to make you feel uncomfortable. I’d like to get to know you better. I’d like to be friends.”
“I’m not uncomfortable. I’m surprised to see you, that’s all. I knew you were helping with the band — someone mentioned it last night — I just didn’t think you’d come specifically to see me.”
Misty allowed herself to feast on the sight of him. He wore navy jeans that hugged his body in all the right places, a pale blue chambray shirt, no doubt a designer creation, and a navy sweater-vest. The blue brought out the color of his eyes, and it was more than a little disconcerting to know that while he appeared to be looking straight at her, he couldn’t see a thing.
He’d shaved, and his hair had been obviously trimmed, since the curls at the collar were gone. He made her ravenous, and the sandwich in her hand wasn’t going to assuage that hunger. She took a bite of her lunch, knowing that if she didn’t eat, she’d have a headache by two, but the sandwich tasted like sawdust. She reached for her coffee and took a mouthful.
In Plain Sight Page 3