Rocky Mountain Match (11 page)

He clutched the arms of the chair and blinked again. But he couldn’t seem to find anything more than the dim shadows he’d seen before.

“I—I don’t know. I can’t tell,” he said hesitantly.

Desperately wanting to believe that remnants of the bandages still remained on his eyes, he reached up, his hands trembling as he felt where the patches had been.

Nothing.

“It’s all right,” Dr. Becker offered. “We’ll go over here by the window. The sun is bright this afternoon. Let’s see if your eyes can register more light here.”

Joseph struggled to his feet when he felt the doctor’s hand beneath his arm. Once standing, his knees threatened to buckle. He closed his eyes as he was led across the room. When they stopped, the doctor placed Joseph’s hand upon a wide wooden sill, smooth and polished under his fingertips.

“Do you see anything now?” The measure of hope in the doctor’s voice gave encouragement.

Opening his eyes wide, he again searched for light-bathed images. He opened and shut his eyes several times. Sweat beaded his brow. His breath came in short pants. Desperate, he searched wildly.

Nothing.

Dr. Becker stood directly in front of him, appearing
like a vague, undefined image in a thick, unrelenting fog. Try as he might, Joseph couldn’t make out color or even the most obvious detail.

He turned his head toward where Katie was sitting, straining to see her through the dense gray filling his vision. He saw nothing, but heard her whisper, “Joseph?”

The weight of the doctor’s hand upon his shoulder was a faint contact point as he felt himself drifting farther away. The stark reality of his fate threatened to drive him to the darkest depths.

Turning back to the window, the warm, inviting sun bore down upon his face as if mocking him, but again he couldn’t make out anything more than a murky shadow of light.

How could this be?

Slamming his eyes shut, he opened them with the fading hope of finding something more than formless shadows. Trembling, he plowed his fingers through his hair, then pulled a hand down over his face, his fingertips briefly resting upon eyes that couldn’t see. Slowly he raised his chin, fighting not to fall prey to complete and total despair.

I’m blind. Oh, God, I’m blind.

The realization hit like a sudden blast, annihilating hope.

Never had he felt more alone or forsaken.

Where are You, God? Don’t You know I need my sight?

His silent plea, one he’d prayed hundreds of times, seemed to hang suspended in the dark unknown.

“There’s no change,” he finally admitted, his jaw tense, his stomach churning. “It’s no better than before.”

“I’m sorry, son. This must come as a surprise.” Dr. Becker’s tone was tight, forced. “Let’s go back over here and sit down.”

Every single step felt short and clumsy once again, as if all the progress he’d made with Katie had been a figment of his imagination.

After the doctor performed a couple of tests, he rested his hands upon Joseph’s shoulders. “I’d hoped to have more encouraging news for you. I know this must be difficult.”

He wanted to run far away. But he probably couldn’t make it out of the room without attendance, let alone the building.

“You’ll get through this, Joseph. I know you will.” An undercurrent of shared discouragement and sadness was evident in Katie’s voice as he felt her familiar, comforting touch upon his arm. “Give yourself time.”

“This isn’t an easy lot in life,” the doctor added. “But in time you will grow accustomed to life without sight and your other senses will compensate for the lack in vision. There have been some significant advances made for the blind.” The words were meant to lend hope, but nothing could mask the pity in the doctor’s voice. “And it sounds like, with Miss Ellickson here, you’re already on the right road.”

Although he was thankful for what Katie had taught him over the last two weeks, he realized now that he’d been going through the motions, counting on things taking a favorable turn for him.

“Is there any chance that restoration could still take place?” He forced the tremble from his voice as he mined for some vein of hope. “I mean, could it be that maybe my eyes just need more time? Maybe you should wrap them again.”

The doctor gave a measured sigh. “I don’t make a habit of leaving my patients with false hope. I find that that can be counterproductive, so I’ll be very honest with you.”

The nervous cough coming from Dr. Becker had Joseph bracing himself for words he somehow knew would set his fate in stone. He wanted to cover his ears. Storm out of the room.

He’d never run from a challenge, though. Could he find it within himself to face this one head-on? The way he saw it, he didn’t have much of a choice. God had ignored his pleas and left him high and dry.

“With this kind of head trauma and the amount of time that has gone by since the injury, I regret to say that we’ve likely seen as much restoration as we’re going to get.”

Joseph stared into the darkness while listening to the bleak prognosis. He set his face like the calm of a glassy sea. Inside, however, huge waves battered his soul.

“It’s apparent the damage done was very serious and irreversible,” the doctor continued. “If there was going to be a return of sight, we would’ve seen it by now.”

T
he trip home was strained at best. For most of the journey Katie had sat squeezed between Uncle Sven and Joseph, and crammed to capacity into the stage along with the other six travelers. Joseph had leaned his head back, shutting his eyes tight beneath furrowed brows. The way he held his body so rigid and fists so tight, she would’ve thought they were careening down a mountainside. He surely felt that his life had just hit a steep, rocky slope.

The times she’d tried to make conversation, she’d feel him tense as though he couldn’t bear her presence. Finally, she’d given up. She understood how devastated he must be.

What she couldn’t understand was why he’d wall himself off from her. Hadn’t she developed a trust with him? Hadn’t he found comfort with her as much as she’d found with him?

Even Uncle Sven couldn’t break Joseph’s dark silence. When the stagecoach arrived back in Boulder after supper, Katie had quietly insisted on walking Joseph
home, hoping that if he felt less crowded by others, she could get him to open up.

Peering over at him now as she led the way home, compassion again welled inside her. He’d banked on regaining his sight and had gotten no return. The anger creasing his brow and frustration clenching his jaw spoke volumes of his distress.

On a measured sigh, she turned her attention back to the path and gasped. Tripped down a step, her arm jerking free from his tentative grasp. “Whoa!” Katie cried. “Be careful—”

He followed a split second later. He reached in vain for something to steady himself as he dropped face-first to the packed dirt like felled timber.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry.” She scrambled to kneel beside him.

“What in the—”

“It was my fault, Joseph.” She placed a trembling hand on his back, inwardly scolding herself for being so distracted. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Apparently,” he snarled over his shoulder. He lay sprawled out in the middle of the road for a moment, then shoving her hand away, quickly levered himself up. With his face set in a scowl, he slapped his hands together, sending a plume of dust into the evening air. “I don’t need you to walk me home. I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m sorry, Joseph. Really I am.” She stared up at him, confused. Up to now he’d been quiet, not explosive. “I should have been more attentive to where I was going.”

“My house can’t be far from here. What…another block?” He turned his head opposite his desired direction. Kneeling, he patted his hand along the ground, feeling for
his bag that had flown from his hand, scattering the few things within.

“A little over two blocks, actually.” Katie shook her head at his stubbornness. “Here, let me get that for you.”

“No! I can do it myself,” he ground out.

He stretched out his arms and swept them across the ground in broad movements. Scooting forward, he repeated the action, finally locating his bag and all but one item. When he’d stuffed them back inside, he stood, his chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm.

With trembling knees, she crossed to retrieve the shirt he’d missed. “You forgot something,” she uttered, unable to resist the urge to breathe in Joseph’s scent woven within the threads.

When she handed it to him, her heart squeezed as she watched the embarrassment tainting his features. Maybe his vision hadn’t changed, but the Joseph she knew was not who stood before her now. He’d erected a wall the size of a mountain around himself, and he was intent on keeping her out.

She couldn’t make herself look away as he focused directly on her, his sightless gaze bearing into hers.

“Please let me walk the rest of the way with you.”

“I told you I’d do it myself,” he retorted, stuffing the shirt in his bag.

She sighed. “Fine. Go right ahead.”

Hugging her arms to her chest, she witnessed his brow crease and his fists clench as though he’d expected her to put up a fight. From her experience, she knew that it was best to just let him find out the hard way—as long as doing so didn’t pose any danger. Had the streets been
busy, she would’ve put up a fight and dragged him home regardless of his protests.

“Fine,” he echoed. He shoved a hand in his pocket, but not before she noticed the tremble undermining his composure.

After a moment’s pause, she slowly walked away, her heart constricting inside her chest, her gaze fixed on him. He stood at the side of the road, a study in stoicism with his shoulders drawn back, head held high and his chin set. At a quick glance, he didn’t look as if he needed help. Maybe in a couple of weeks after more training, maybe in a month. But right now, at the very least, he’d need the aid of a cane.

After nearly a minute, he made a tentative move forward to cross the street, then another and another. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he came to an abrupt halt.

She stopped in her tracks. A soft moan escaped her lips as raw fear played across his features in the evening light. Bracing herself, she walked back to him, her heels lightly ticking across the boardwalk.

He turned his head in her direction, a look of irritation sweeping over his face.

Standing in front of him, she struggled with many different emotions. She was angry with him, frustrated by him, but mostly she felt so very sad for him.

He gave a loud, long exhale. “If you could just point me in the right direction, I can do the rest.”

How did he think he was going to get home without help?

“I’m sure I can figure it out,” Joseph added firmly, as if he’d read her thoughts.

“Why don’t you stop being so
stubborn,
” she urged,
unable to keep her irritation at bay. “It’s all right to let someone help, you know.”

“Easy for you to say,” he ground out, his frustrated gaze set down the road.

Hugging her arms to her chest, she sighed. “You’re right. It’s a lot easier for me to say those things when I don’t have to face this.” She took a step closer, then gently grasped his hand, inwardly cringing when he jerked at her touch. “Please,” she whispered. “Let me help you.”

When he didn’t pull away, she placed his hand at her elbow and led him home, acutely aware of the stiffness in his touch.

At the familiar sound of the front gate opening, he relaxed ever so slightly. And when they reached his porch, she turned to find his unseeing gaze fixed on her, his eyes—the most beautiful golden brown she’d ever seen. The first time she’d really caught a glimpse of his eyes this morning, she’d nearly lost her breath. Prominent cheekbones and perfectly shaped brows served as a masculine frame, enhancing his stunning eyes.

Surely they’d once sparked with life like his brother’s. But right now, exhaustion, fear and anger weighed heavily on him as he lifted his chin a notch.

Hearing a rustling at the side of the house, she glanced over to see Boone lumbering into the evening shadows, his tail wagging lazily from side to side in greeting.

“Hello, Boone.” She knelt to pet the dog.

“Hey, boy.” Joseph hunkered down and reached out, his hand connecting with hers on Boone’s back.

For a moment neither one of them moved. Comforting warmth spread through her when he swept the pad of his thumb over her hand in a light caress. Much as she’d
tried to remain professional concerning Joseph, something had changed over the past two weeks. Her heartbeat quickened at his comforting presence. Stirred at his soothing voice. She found herself longing for his touch. Longing for his nearness to lend her hope and confidence. And to calm her deep fears.

Katie deserved a whole man. And whole, he was not.

Joseph swallowed hard, burrowing his fingers next to Katie’s into Boone’s fur as he thought about what he had to do. For her sake, he had to sever all feelings other than those of friendship. His blindness was a thorn in his flesh, and he sure wasn’t going to inflict its sting upon a wife. Especially someone as sweet, as special, as Katie.

Had things turned out differently for him, he might’ve proposed marriage by now. There was really nothing keeping him from still doing that except that if she said “I do,” he’d forever wonder if it was out of pity or some warped sense of obligation. Over the past two weeks they’d shared tender moments laden with unspoken promises that maybe she felt some misplaced duty to fulfill.

He couldn’t live with himself if that was the case.

But he didn’t know if he could live without her, either. Each day he looked forward to being with her, having her near, hearing her voice. And whenever he’d held her or when she’d given him encouragement by a simple, innocent touch, the connection had bolstered him with strength he needed to face this challenge.

Since his appointment this morning, he’d been as rigid and unyielding as the mountains surrounding this valley. And right now he was starving for comfort.

So maybe he could indulge himself just once more
before he let her go. He wanted to walk away with the memory of her warm and soft and caring touch.

After a long moment of silence, he slowly came to standing, pulling her along with him. Joseph focused down at where he cradled her hands in his. He traced a path with the pads of his thumbs. Heard and felt her quiet sigh.

He threaded his fingers with hers. And for a moment in time, he closed his eyes, imagining that he could see again. He’d hold her close. Look deep into her eyes. He’d protect her the way she deserved. Drive away her fears with his love.

Joseph dragged in a deep breath and with it the delicate scent of lilies. So simple, so natural and so Katie.

If he didn’t go inside now, he might never let her go. And that set off warning bells that clanged loudly, slicing through his longing.

He couldn’t allow himself to do that and then dismiss her like some discarded waste. She didn’t deserve that.

He slowly slid his hands from hers, committing to memory this moment as he opened his eyes to the harsh darkness. “I’m sorry for my impatience, Katie. I’m just not very good company right now.”

“No. Don’t apologize,” she whispered.

He stepped away from her and shook his head, slamming his eyes shut. He was sending her mixed signals, being so harsh just moments ago out on the street and then showing tenderness.

“Joseph, I—”

“I really should just get inside,” he blurted.

“It’s been a hard day, I know.”

When he grasped the cool door handle, he shuttered away the warmth and affection he’d felt just a moment
ago, steeling himself to do what needed to be done. It was for her sake.

“Katie, I think it’s best that you not come over tomorrow.” His voice sounded flat as he stared downward.

“Oh? So—so you want me here Thursday, then?”

He swallowed hard. “No. Not Thursday, either. I don’t know when—or
if
I want you to come back.”

Something felt innately right when she was by his side.

The moments when their hands touched or his leg brushed against hers in the stagecoach, or every single time she spoke his name or a word of encouragement, he felt something that was undeniable—a connection that seemed as though it’d been established even before their paths had crossed just two weeks ago.

But he could barely stand himself right now. He didn’t need to subject her to his anger or his rampant emotions. His response when he’d fallen flat on his face had surely tested her patience with him. It was an accident—accidents happened. He was in for his fair share of them in the future.

Joseph shook his head, recognizing that until he could resign himself to his blindness, he wouldn’t be good company for anyone. Especially not Katie. Even then, if he did decide to ask her to work with him again, there could never be anything more than friendship between them.

He would
not
strap Katie with the burden of living with a blind man for the rest of her life.

Stepping through the doorway after Boone, Joseph stumbled slightly, then steadied himself by grabbing the doorjamb. His balance wasn’t too keen after being on the road for so long. In fact, his whole life seemed off balance now and he didn’t know when he’d get his bearings again.

He dropped his bag at the door and shuffled forward, each uncertain step a reverberating reminder of his affliction. All day long he’d wanted to revolt against the imposing darkness. He’d wanted to scream, throw something, run, but instead he’d shut himself up tight like a tender young tree in a mature forest, crowded, dark and confined.

Alone now in the privacy of his own home, he could give in to the compulsion to release his anger, but he just didn’t have the strength. What good would it do now, anyway?

He massaged the tight knots at the back of his neck, realizing just how weary he was. Every muscle in his body ached from the rigid stance he’d assumed all day.

With outstretched hands, he carefully counted his steps until he reached the bedroom at the back of the house. As usual, Boone found his place at the foot of the bed while Joseph crawled into bed, not even bothering to remove his clothes or boots.

He lowered his head to his pillow and closed his eyes, wishing that this horrible nightmare would finally come to an end. But opening them, the nightmare loomed as real as ever.

Boone laid his chin on Joseph’s knee and Joseph smoothed his hand over the dog’s soft fur. He could almost feel Katie’s fingers there, beneath his again. It had almost been his undoing. He’d wanted to hold her.

And be held.

But he steeled himself against the deep need for reassurance. Like it or not, his well-ordered world had been overrun with an all-consuming darkness.

Why had God sentenced him to this sightless, black prison?

He’d silently railed against God on the long trip home,
demanding an answer. He’d received none, and questioned if he was fighting a war more for his soul than for his livelihood.

When Boone nuzzled his soft wet nose into Joseph’s palm, Joseph gathered in a shaky breath.

“How could you allow this, God? What did I do to deserve this?” he whispered. It was an honest question void of the accusation that had filled his unspoken barrage earlier.

Opening his eyes to nothing once again, he clenched his fists and trembled.