Seeing the Love (2 page)

Lucas planned to follow his usual evening routine. Drop Molly at Sarah’s, walk to the gym, work out to burn off as many of his frustrations as possible, pick up Molly again, and walk home via the park. It was a minor vanity, but he didn’t want to take Molly to the gym so the other gym-rats could acknowledge she was a Seeing Eye Dog. Most of the time, he kidded himself that she was just a pet. He didn’t actually
need
a guide dog—not yet, anyway—but Sarah insisted. She wanted him to get used to having Molly now. She claimed it reassured her to know her brother was adapting.

As he handed over Molly, he remembered the Frisbee and dug into his backpack to retrieve it.
Mistake
.

“Natalie?” Her curiosity was as clear as Sian’s had been.

He rolled his eyes in reply. “Account Manager. I helped her with a tricky order.”

“Right.” She sounded disappointed, but the next moment she was showing the toy to Molly. “We’ll try it out while you’re pumping iron. Dogs love Frisbees.”

“That’s what Natalie said.”

Uh oh, mistake number two. “You’ve been chatting to her? Does she have a dog?”

“No and no.” He could tell Sarah was building up to another question, so he fled. He loved her, he always had, but she felt this incessant need to match-make. She regularly told him of great women she knew that he should meet. Not every woman was like his ex. Somewhere out there was a lovely girl, who wouldn’t care. Yeah right, and he still believed in the tooth-fairy too.

To his dismay, they’d moved the equipment around in the gym. The rowing machines now lay where the treadmill used to be, and he had to make two painfully slow laps before he found the free weights. It was a slap in the face. He was just kidding himself if he thought he could cope. He spent longer than usual on the exercise bike, pedaling until his calves burned with the effort. It meant he was late getting back to Sarah’s, and he braced himself for her concern. To his relief, she didn’t ask.

“Molly loves the Frisbee, we had a blast.” Sarah gave him a quick hug and handed over the toy, now complete with a few teeth marks. “I took some pictures too. I thought you might like to send one to Natalie,” Sarah said.

Lucas ran a finger along the edge and examined the indentations, hiding a smile. Match-making again. Would she ever stop?

*

Natalie tugged her sleeves down a little further. She’d overslept and had to rush to get ready for work, so she’d pulled an old shirt from the closet—one she never wore because the sleeves were now too short. They barely came to her wrist. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, she picked up a voicemail from her specialist, rescheduling her for this afternoon. Another wasted half day.

The sun beat through the windows of her office, and she had another oh-crap moment. The air conditioning was off, for emergency maintenance. Everyone else removed jackets, peeled back sleeves, and hung around the water cooler, bitching about the heat, while Natalie tried to pretend she didn’t notice. Her ankle-length skirt and her boots might have looked smart, but she was melting, especially with having to keep her jacket on.

The only bright spot in her morning—in her day—came in the form of an e-mail from Lucas.

Morning. Thought you might like this. Molly had a blast. Thanks again.

Natalie examined the attached image in delight. The golden Labrador lay in the middle of a dusty patch of dry grass, the Frisbee wedged between her front paws. A large pink tongue lolled from her open mouth, and she appeared to be smiling up at the camera. She looked adorable, and Natalie remembered what fun it was to play ‘fetch’ with a friendly dog on a sunny afternoon. Maybe one day.

Eager to respond to Lucas, she logged into Messenger.

Natalie:
Great picture. Thanks, Lucas
:)
Did you have fun?

He responded immediately.

Lucas:
Yep. She was tired out last night. Kept me awake with her snoring, LOL.

Natalie:
Hahaha. I exhausted your dog

Lucas:
Did you do anything nice last night?

Natalie hesitated before replying.

Natalie:
Not much. Watched some TV, read a little. Same as most people.

There was a long silence, and her heart sank. She was obviously boring. Why hadn’t she invented something exotic? Pole dancing, perhaps? The idea made her smile. She would as easily fly to the moon. With a sense of resignation, she logged into the customer systems and began to scan her open orders. She had a meeting in half an hour, and then she had to go through her accounts, and
then
she had to leave for the hospital.

What if Lucas came back to chat, and she wasn’t there? Would he think she was being rude? How was it that she could talk confidently to her customers and suppliers, but a non-work conversation with Lucas tied her in knots? In an agony of indecision, she rapidly tapped out a further message.

Natalie:
I’m not in this afternoon. Have a good day
:)

Lucas felt like a jerk. It wasn’t Natalie’s fault that she’d innocently pushed one of his very sensitive triggers. Watching TV, reading the paper, and browsing through the bookstore were now things of the past for him, along with the big items like driving, cycling and sightseeing. Travelling no longer held any appeal, since the view was the same for him anywhere. A blurred thin strip of vision. Then there were the smaller, equally missed activities—gazing up at the night sky and picking out the constellations; playing poker; watching any sport at all; admiring the view from his apartment.

As his vision deteriorated, so did his life. Soon all he had left would be lying in bed, listening to the radio. He could still work at the moment, thanks to modified screen technology that allowed him to massively magnify small sections of the screen at once. In a few years though, even that would be lost.

Bile rose in his throat. He shoved his chair back and stumbled for the bathroom, nearly tripping over the sleeping Molly as he went. By the time he came back to his desk, Natalie had signed out of the conversation. No matter. She was probably out with a customer, busy with her life. He scrubbed his hands over his face.
Jesus
. When did he turn into such a whining bastard?

Lucas felt a pang of concern when he spoke to Deema, one of her colleagues, about a stock query and she mentioned that Natalie was out for a medical appointment. All afternoon? He shuddered. He’d spent enough time being examined and prodded by a succession of people in white coats. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Lucas paid special attention to Natalie’s orders that afternoon and tried to ensure they all went through the warehouse with minimal fuss. He was about to log out for the evening, when his phone rang. He didn’t check the caller.

“Lucas Wade. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Lucas.”
Natalie
. “My orders have all gone out today. Even the ones with backorder stock.” Her honeyed voice washed over him. “Is it you I have to thank for that?”

He smiled as he leaned back in his chair, phone against his ear. With his left hand, he scratched at his almost-beard. It had reached the itchy stage, which meant he had to try and shave again. He hated shaving now. Dragging his attention back to Natalie, he chuckled.

“Just doing my job.” He made a split second decision. “Hey, someone told me you had a medical appointment this afternoon. Everything okay, I hope.”

She hesitated, and he mentally kicked himself. He hated when people ventured into that level of personal detail with him, so why should it be any different for Natalie?

“I have to have an operation in a couple of weeks. Nothing serious, but I’m not looking forward to it. I came back this afternoon because I need to re-plan my schedule.”

All the light had gone from her voice. He gripped the phone tighter. “How long will you need to be off?” That would be a gauge of how serious it was.

“Not long. A few weeks. Someone will cover for me here.”

She was the only bright spot in his long and dark day, and the prospect of not speaking to her for weeks made his chest tight. He’d think about that later. Right now, he wanted to cheer her up. Somehow. “You have a lovely accent,” he blurted. “Where are you from?”

A tiny pause before she answered. “I’m Kiwi, but I lived in France until I was eight. My parents were French.”

“
Were
French?” He tried to make a joke. “What are they now?” The silence that answered him made his stomach churn.
Christ
. In his ham-fisted attempt to make her laugh, he knew with a crippling certainty that he’d just made things a hundred times worse.

*

Natalie swallowed hard and stared at her screen, blinking and not allowing the tears to well up. Lucas didn’t know. How could he? She hadn’t even told Deema, and
she
was the closest Natalie had to a friend.

“I’m sorry, Natalie. I’m an insensitive asshole.” Lucas’s voice was low and hesitant.

“It’s okay. They died a few years ago.” She forced herself to speak, trying to sound as though it was really of no consequence. She couldn’t. She rubbed angrily at her eyes. “It was so unfair. A drunk driver ran into their car.” The words rushed out of her and then lodged in her throat. Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas repeated. Natalie chewed on her lip and took a shaky breath. He pitied her already. How would he react if he knew everything? The prospect was unthinkable.

Time to steer the faltering conversation down a safe track, before Natalie embarrassed herself any further. “So”—her composure was as fragile as spun sugar—“What do you have planned for this evening?”

She heard a rustling noise down the line, and then Lucas cleared his throat. “The usual. Gym. Walking Molly. Do you speak fluent French, then?”

The sudden question caught her off guard. “Yes. Why?”

He hesitated. “I was thinking of taking lessons. Maybe you could teach me a few phrases? You know, the useful ones.”

A fat salty tear trickled down Natalie’s cheek, and she scrubbed it away with her fingertips. French lessons? She’d get to listen to him speaking in the most beautiful language in the world. “You don’t want to know how to buy a feathered hat for your aunt?”

A muffled snort sounded in her ear. “Not much call for feathered hats,” he said. “More like ordering a beer. Buying food. Basic tourist stuff.”

“I could do that.”  She took a moment to find a tissue in her bag and blow her nose. “Are you planning a trip?”

“Yes.” He was confident and smooth again. The anxious note had left his voice. “It’s something I’ve been thinking of for a while. Where did you live?”

“All over. Papa was an artist, and we moved around with his exhibitions. Maman was a book editor, so she could work anywhere.”

“Did you have a favorite place?”

Did she? Out of the jumbled impressions that she had of France, there was one that stood out. “Paris. We mostly lived in the country—Papa preferred to work outside—but we spent two months in Paris. I’d never been anywhere so exciting.” Memories flooded her brain, as though she’d opened a tap. The Louvre at night, all glass and angles. The gardens of the Tuileries. The River Seine, gliding along like a giant snake. “I was very much a country mouse going to the city for the first time.” She recalled peering through the massive store windows, gazing at the world through different eyes. “It was an adventure.”

“So how did you end up in New Zealand?”

“Maman was offered a great job here, so we came over to try it for a few years.” She remembered her trepidation at starting another new school. She’d developed an aloof shell, and it had stuck with her. She shrugged, and then realized Lucas wouldn’t be able to see her. “We liked it.”

They fell silent again, but this time it felt comfortable. Natalie took a quick breath. “I have to go now, but yes, I’ll teach you some phrases.”  She smiled, knowing just where to start. “
Bon soir
, Lucas. Good evening.”

“Hello, Lucas. May I call you Lucas?” The woman didn’t wait for his reply before she continued. “My name is Verity Hipkiss, and I’m the new Human Resources Manager here at Tech4.” She pulled up a seat next to him, which meant this was unlikely to be a passing greeting.

Lucas pasted a smile on his face. “How can I help you?”

“I’ve been familiarizing myself with your records, and the special equipment you use. I guess I just want to be sure we’re doing everything we can for you.”

Lucas gestured to the huge computer screen, and viewing lens. “It all works fine, thanks, and I’m actually quite busy at the moment. Can we do this later?”

“It’ll only take a minute. Your condition is called,” she hesitated. “Coro,” she paused again.

“Choroideremia,” said Lucas.

“Yes, that’s right. And you’ve had it since you started working here?”

Lucas knew his medical details formed part of his employment records. He was registered disabled, and had been for some time. He suppressed a sigh. “Yes. I’ve had the condition since birth, but it was only diagnosed ten years ago, when it became a problem.”

“And the prognosis? Might you regain your sight?”

He wanted to ask if she might regain her ability to read, but managed to keep the words locked down. “No,” he said through gritted teeth. “I have limited vision now”—extremely fucking limited—“but that could last for a few years.”

“Mmm hmm.” She tapped away at something, probably one of the tablets that all the managers here carried, and his patience snapped.

“I have a conference call to dial into. Have we finished?” He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally walked away. It was time to check in with Natalie.

Lucas:
Bonjour,
Natalie.

Natalie:
Bonjour,
Lucas
. Comment ca va?

Comment ca va?
Lucas knew what that meant. ‘How are you?’ Confident, he tapped out his reply.

Lucas:
Ca va bien, merci.

I am well, thank you.
He’d no idea what had prompted him to say he wanted to learn French, let alone that he was planning a trip.  It’d been a knee-jerk reaction to the pain that he’d ignited, and a foolish way to distract Natalie. It turned out to be fun, though. They spoke daily on the phone and chatted easily during the day on Messenger.

In the week since his fuckup, he’d learned to count to ten, knew basic colors, and was currently learning the different types of places he might visit.

He was in the middle of processing a stock return while trying to count in French, when Dave tapped his monitor. Lucas lifted his head. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Lucas. You know those laptops you asked about, for the Bryce order? Are you still planning to take them?”

“Already done. They’ve shipped.”

“Shit. How many?”

“I’d have to check. Three, I think, or maybe four. Why?”

Dave made a clicking noise with his tongue. “I promised Masons theirs would go out this week, but the replacements haven’t come in yet.”

Lucas could sympathize with Dave’s problem. “You said I could take them.”

“Yeah. I guess I forgot.” Dave shuffled his feet, and then sighed. “No worries. I’ll find some more.”

As Dave disappeared to his own desk, Lucas saw a new message pop up from Natalie.

Natalie:
Can you please give me an update on my order for Harwitz Shipping? I need to slip out to the
patisserie
, so you can tell me when I get back.

Lucas:
No need. I’ve just been updating the backorder listing. Harwitz will go out tomorrow. Enjoy your trip to the bakery.

He smiled at how normal it now seemed to talk to Natalie, and in between work e-mails and calls, he practiced his French verbs. A daydream hovered at the edge of his mind, of chatting with Natalie in her native language. One day, maybe. Today he was determined to learn the high-street attractions. The strange idea of nouns being either feminine or masculine was a difficult concept for him to grasp. English had no such structure.

Lucas wrestled with the word for library.
Bibliothèque
. Was that feminine?
La bibliothèque
? Natalie’s return in Messenger diverted him.

Natalie:
Bonjour,
Lucas
.

Lucas:
Bonjour,
Natalie
.

Natalie:
There’s been a change of plan. My surgeon had a cancellation and has brought my op forward.  I go into hospital tomorrow.

The cursor flashed in the Messenger box, while Lucas tried to process her statement. Tomorrow?
Shit
. Anxiety swept over him, his previous thoughts abandoned.

*

Natalie waited.
Come on, Lucas. Say something
. Maybe he didn’t care one way or the other, and he really only wanted to use her for picking up some French. The sour taste of disappointment filled her mouth, and she turned away from her screen. The ringing phone was a good distraction. She tried to sound professional.

“Regional Sales. How may I help you?”

“Hey.”
Lucas
. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

Was she? If she’d had more time to get used to the idea of the operation, she would have just answered with a breezy ‘fine,’ but her head was still reeling. “Not really. I’d kinda psyched myself up for this happening later, not tomorrow.” She had to stop for a calming breath.

Lucas filled the silence. “How long will you be off for?”

“Um… I think it’s a few weeks.” She refused to think any further than the operation itself. The prospect of being off work, and rattling round her miniscule apartment by herself for weeks on end, threatened to drive her insane. She dug deep and managed to produce a near-normal voice. “You worrying about your French lessons?”

“I—”

“Am I putting your holiday plans at risk? Maybe I need to recommend some books for you to read. Language CD’s are great, and you know there are lots of great apps you can download for your iPod.” She knew she was babbling, but the words kept tumbling from her mouth.

“
Natalie
.” His voice was firm, and she dragged in a gulping breath. “I want to know that you’re okay. Okay? And”—he hesitated only for a fraction—“if you’re not, you can talk to me. Got that?” He softened his tone. “I’d like to think we’re friends.”

Friends? Yes, she could do long-distance friendship. “I’ll be fine, really. But thanks. You know, for asking.”

“You sound as though nobody cares about you. You must have a boyfriend or husband that’s going to pamper you when you’re home?”

Is he fishing?
She shoved down the secret thrill that he might be interested in her. “No, there’s just me.” Damn, she didn’t want his pity. “I’m very self-sufficient.”

“Will you be able to pick up your e-mails while you’re in the hospital? Your private ones, not work. I’d like to keep in touch, and before you ask, I don’t just mean for more French verbs.” He sounded amused, and something tight inside her loosened a fraction.

“Yes, I guess I can get them on my phone. We could just swap numbers and text instead.”

He hesitated, and Natalie kicked herself.
Stupid
. His wife or girlfriend would be suspicious, if Natalie kept sending him texts. .

“I hate texting,” he said. “The autocorrect drives me crazy, and I don’t have the patience for it.” He sounded uncomfortable, and she wondered what he wasn’t telling her.

“I don’t want to get you into trouble with your partner.” She spoke lightly, as if his relationship status was of no concern to her. As if he meant nothing.

He grunted, the rich masculine noise of it making her pulse thrum. “I’m single and happily so. My divorce put me off relationships for good.”

Her heart pattered. It should make no difference to her that Lucas was single. It wasn’t as though she could ever consider a relationship with him. Much as she might dream about it, it could never be a reality.