A Glimpse of the Dream (27 page)

I didn’t go right home. I walked around town to clear my head and ended at the boatyard. I knew what fueled Kane’s outburst; he was having doubts himself and feared I was too. Running my hand over his boat, I knew I didn’t have doubts. I believed he could do whatever he set his mind to. He always could. The fact that he was blind now added another layer of complexity to his goals, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop him from succeeding. Pushing his doubts on me, though, that wasn’t going to work.

“Tea?”

My head whipped around and I saw Kane standing a few feet away. “How did you know I was here?”

“You always came here when you were upset.”

“Where’s the car?”

“Sent it home.” He moved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m sorry. What I said was wrong.”

I appreciated the apology, but his quick reaction made me suspect this wouldn’t be the last time he did so. “You’re blind, a challenge, but I don’t doubt you for a minute. Undermining me, us, putting your doubts on me, is not cool.”

“I know.”

“I’d like to help you, and not because I think you need it, but because I want to. I want to witness you make your vision a reality.”

“I’d like that.”

“Can I ask you something?” I asked.

“Anything.”

“Outside of Mrs. Marks and the others, did you have visitors when you were in the hospital?”

“Yeah, most of the town. Why?”

“Including Camille?”

“She may have visited, but I never saw her. You’re not answering my question, why?”

“Walking in on you two when I first arrived was like a wicked case of déjà vu. Hearing you talk, laugh, plan outings together. That hurt a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Tea. It isn’t what you—”

I didn’t let him finish. “I came home, in college, right before you called me to end it, because I hadn’t been able to get in touch with anyone. Camille was at the house, collecting the mail. I couldn’t understand where everyone was, why there was not one person in the house. In the nine years I had lived there, the place was never left empty. She was the one to tell me you’d moved away, moved in with your girlfriend and everyone had gone to help get you settled. She spared no detail regarding your developing relationship with Doreen, even paralleling it to ours. When you called, you only confirmed what she had said. She enjoyed it, hurting me. Knowing now she lied, made it all up, pisses me off, but worse, the fact that she knew what really happened to you and I didn’t . . . that burns.”

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “I always wondered why you believed the lie so easily, why you didn’t hunt me down. Stupid, because I had broken your heart, but knowing how I felt about you, it seemed like you gave up on us rather easily. I didn’t know what she did, how she played you, but I’m not fucking surprised. The whole town knew of the accident, and Camille, being the cunning bitch that she is, somehow arranged to be the one to look after Raven’s Peak while the family was with me. Her learning about the Doreen ruse isn’t a surprise either, nor is it a surprise that she enjoyed hurting you. I’m so sorry, Tea. I can’t even begin to imagine how that must have felt, coming from her, of all people.”

I couldn’t lie, I was relieved to hear that Kane hadn’t included Camille in his plan, but that she had gained the knowledge through her typical nefarious ways. His belief, though, that I had believed the lie so easily needed to be addressed. “I
didn’t
believe the lie, even after your call. It was only after I spoke to Mrs. Marks and she confirmed it that I believed.”

He said nothing; I assumed he was thinking the same thing I was. For two people so in synch with each other, we had allowed ourselves to be persuaded rather easily.

“And the party you two were discussing, whose was it?”

“Just a mutual friend. She was going to give me a ride.”

“Mutual friend?”

“The girl from the fire, Kathy O’Malley.”

Oh . . . Oh . . .

“Every birthday, Christmas, holiday, school plays—I’ve become an unofficial member of their family.”

“Makes sense. You saved her life.” And it cost him his own. I didn’t say it, but I knew he was thinking that too. “And Camille?”

“She knew Kathy when they were kids. Kathy is a few years younger than her, but their families were close, they still are.”

“I guess it was nice of Camille to offer you a ride.”

He chuckled. “That’s generous of you.”

“I told you I met Kathy a couple weeks ago. She’s very nice. In fact, it’s nice of all the O’Malleys to include you.”

“They’ve done more than that. They insisted on helping to pay for the building of my house. They set up a bank account for me and deposit money every month. I told them it wasn’t necessary, but they felt compelled to do it. It isn’t their fault I got caught in the fire; I don’t think I did anything that countless others wouldn’t have done.”

“I disagree. You were always the first to jump up and offer a hand. It’s just part of who you are. I think what you did wasn’t ordinary but extraordinary, just like you.”

Tenderness washed over his face. “Come here,” he whispered, and I didn’t hesitate, reaching for him so he knew I was close. His hands cradled my face, “Can you forgive me?”

“Yes. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes.” To seal that, he brushed his lips over mine, allowing them to linger.

Teagan

“That cake was ridiculous.” Kane could say that, since he’d eaten almost half of it. Our walk home had been so reminiscent of old times; a few times, along the way, he’d squeezed my hand, and not just in affection but for assistance. The small gesture meant the world to me.

“I should hope you liked it, you did have three slices.”

Kane patted his flat stomach. “So damn good.”

We were snuggled up on our sofa. We didn’t fit as well as we had as kids, but I loved having his body so close to mine. Dinner had been like old times, except for Mrs. Marks’s absence. Zeus was curled up on the floor.

“I’m going to see Mrs. Marks again tomorrow. I don’t like how I left. She’s recovering and I’m adding stress. It was thoughtless and stupid.”

“It was human, Tea.”

“Will you come with me?” I asked.

“Yeah. What time were you hoping to go?”

“Around noon. I can come get you.”

An edge rang in his voice when next he spoke. “I’ll come to the house.”

Sitting up, I turned to him. “Okay. So you tell time by a clock that speaks?”

“Yeah, and I have a watch that opens so I can feel the hands.”

I touched his face, his cheek, his lips, and he closed his eyes. “I asked Mr. Clancy about the fire and what happened after. I wanted to know, but I didn’t want you to live through it again.”

His eyes opened and in them I saw torment, the memory haunting him still. “It was as close to hell as a person can come.”

Sympathy and bitterness caused an ache in my chest. “I would have never left your side.”

“I knew that’s how you’d feel, and that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Not to beat a dead horse, but I’m going to anyway. Had it been me, in that hospital bed, alone, scared, hurt, blind, would you have wanted me to keep you in the dark about it?” I asked.

Every muscle in his body reacted to that. “Fuck no.”

“Now you understand how I feel. It should have been me at your side.”

“If it had been you in the hospital bed, would you have wanted me to sit and watch as you suffered, struggled to live, only to witness you die? To have my final memory of you be in the burn unit of the hospital?”

Just the idea of it made my eyes burn. “No.”

“Now you understand how I feel. We’re here now. Let’s move forward. Looking back won’t change anything.”

“I can do that.”

“So, why antiques?”

“This house. My life here. You. For the longest time all I wanted to do was look to the past, and eventually I learned that sometimes it is healthy to look to the past. Maybe you’ll come to Boston and see the life I’ve made there.”

He didn’t answer, because we’d had this discussion already. I knew his answer to traveling to Boston was a no, and he knew I knew. I understood, I really did, but it hurt that he would never know that significant part of my life. I brought it up again with hope that maybe he’d feel differently after he’d had time to think it over.

I was pushing it, but I added, “I’ll be with you. Think about it?” And though he said what he knew I wanted to hear, I knew his mind was already made up.

“I’ll think about it.”

Watching Kane work was an experience. He listened to recorded books and translated them into Braille. He had started the practice as a way of learning Braille, and now he found comfort in the work. He offered the books he translated to the public library, which distributed them among the other branches who had a need for them. He had a trusted group of people around him—Mrs. Marks and his family at Raven’s Peak; the O’Malleys; his lawyer and accountant, who took care of all his bills and legal matters; and Mr. Miller, who helped him with his boat.

As I watched him work, I couldn’t help but think as wonderful as this was for him, he was limiting himself. There was a big world out there, and yet he stayed here, where it was familiar and safe. I suppose I understood that, but the Kane of our youth had wanted to see the world. He’d dreamed of driving his boat up and down the coast. Sure, he wouldn’t see it in the same way, but it seemed he was giving up so much.

I wanted him to come to Boston. The topic was over. I knew he had no intention of coming to see the life I had made for myself. Maybe it was selfish of me to ask it of him, but it seemed to me that if you wanted to share your life with someone, you would want to know everything about that person. I’d been doing that with Kane, asking everyone about him, trying to really get the picture of his life when I wasn’t in it. His refusal to make the trip hurt. I got that he didn’t want me to treat him differently because he was blind, and yet he was treating himself differently, using his blindness as an excuse to disengage. He couldn’t have it both ways.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Glancing over, I saw that Kane was no longer working but staring in my direction. My heart tripped in my chest like it did every time I looked at him. I couldn’t believe I was here with him, had thought the day would never come.

“Are you okay, Tea?”

“More than okay.”

“I’m almost done, and then we can go for a swim, if you want,” he suggested.

“I’d like that.”

His smile stopped my breath. “So would I.”

He kept pace at my side, never more than a foot away, his long strokes easily cutting through the water. He knew the area so well there was no anxiety, and as long as he could hear me next to him, he didn’t worry about me either. I loved that he still swam and that he had taught me how to so I could share moments like this with him. I knew how much he enjoyed swimming.

He wore a swim shirt, something he had never done before. He was covering his burns, I knew, but I wished he wouldn’t. Scarred or not, he was beautiful to me. And then I realized that he had never seen them. He didn’t know what they looked like, and I guessed that what was described to him by the doctors was technical and not for the layman.

After our swim, we sat on the beach, the sun drying us, and, though there were long periods of silence, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Kane, has anyone told you about your burns?”

His muscles flexed; the subject was clearly not a favorite of his. “The doctors, but I tuned them out because I wasn’t ready to hear it. As I healed, I didn’t really see the point in having my head filled with the image of what I had become.”

That broke my heart—his scars weren’t as bad as he clearly believed them to be. I wouldn’t coddle him; he’d hate that, so instead I asked, “Aren’t you even a little curious?”

Every time those eyes found mine, I marveled at how well he was able to do that. “Maybe a little.”

“Would you like me to describe them for you? And before you say no, I think you are beautiful, scars and all. I wish you wouldn’t hide them from me.”

He said nothing, and I knew he was considering my words.

“Take off your shirt and let me tell you what I see.”

He hesitated, but he did as I asked and removed his shirt. He wouldn’t look at me, even though he couldn’t see. I got it. He was embarrassed.

My fingers were gentle when I ran them over the scar tissue. “It’s darker than the rest of your skin. Twisted and red, stretched in areas. Just above your nipple, across to your underarm, and up the center to your collarbone. Your neck down to midback, concentrating mostly on the left side; the edges are less pronounced and almost blend into the rest of your skin. To have survived this, to be the man you are, having lived through something so horrifying . . . yes, your skin is scarred, Kane, but it’s your skin, so it could never be ugly.”

He moved so fast, turning and drawing me to him, his arms coming around me like steal bands. His mouth found mine, his tongue pushing past the barrier of my lips to taste. My arms moved around his neck, holding him closer. His hands roamed down my body, over my breasts, and across my stomach, and everywhere he touched burned, aching for more. I felt his fingers on the strings of my top, felt when they stilled.

“Please don’t stop. I want you . . .” The memory slammed into me, the words came out before I could stop them, not that I would have. “I want you to poke me, Kane. Please.”

His entire body stilled, even the air in his lungs seemed to still before he started shaking. Concerned, I tried to pull away, until I realized he was laughing. The sound was so glorious, I closed my eyes and just soaked it in.

When he was able to speak, he said, “Are you begging me to poke you, Tea?”

“I really am.”

And then he was kissing me again, turning me, and lowering me to the sand. He worked my top off, his fingers tracing my collarbone, down my shoulder. He was learning my body, seeing it through his fingers. His other hand moved over my stomach, down my thighs. Straddling my legs, he cupped my breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing over the nipples just like he had done before. His head lowered, and his mouth closed over my breast. It was heaven feeling him touch me again. His fingers danced down my stomach and slipped under my suit bottoms. When he touched me, just the tips of his fingers on the nub that ached, my back arched. His mouth was on my other breast while his thumb took up the stroking, his fingers sliding over my aching flesh until he found me and pushed a finger in, slowly, as if he was savoring the sensations as much as I was.

His mouth moved lower, down my belly. Untying the strings of my suit bottom, he removed the fabric that separated me from him. Moving down my body, he lifted my ass and pressed a kiss right where his fingers had been.

“Kane.” My body was so oversensitive that, feeling his mouth on me again, I already felt the start of an orgasm. I fell completely over the edge when he pushed his tongue in deep, just as he squeezed that nub.

His mouth drifted back up my body, his lips lingering over mine. Reaching for him, my hand slipped under his waistband, finding him and wrapping around him. He moaned. His eyes closed. Shifting us, so I was straddling him, I moved lower down his body. His eyes opened, his focus on where my hand held him.

Pulling his shorts off, following the fabric down his legs, I slid back up his body and took him into my mouth. The sexiest sound rumbled up his throat as I worked him, twirling my tongue around the tip before sliding it under his shaft, while fondling the sac between his legs. He was close but he moved, pulling me up his body, and turned to pin me under him. Pushing my legs apart, he gripped my hips and slid into me. Feeling him inside me, being connected to him again, rocked me, and the emotions that burned through me were staggering. I realized he wasn’t moving and one glance confirmed that he was experiencing the same profound moment I was. And then he started to move, a slow, easy glide, in and out, until it wasn’t easy but hard, fast and frantic, to reach that moment together.

“Come for me, Tea.”

And I did at the exact moment he did.