“You’re not old, Gram, and once your vision’s restored to what it can be, you’ll be as active as ever. Not being able to see has gotten in your way. You would’ve gone on the cruise to Victoria with Helen and Winifred, you know you would have, if you hadn’t felt uncomfortable about making the trip from Sarah’s Orchard to Seattle. The thought of trying to read signs in airports, and finding your way in unfamiliar places in what felt like darkness…don’t you think that influenced your decision not to go?”
“I don’t know, Elizabeth. Since Granddad died, everything’s been difficult.”
“Of course it has, Clara,” Nick said. “The loss is immense. But that’s all the more reason to fix what can be fixed.”
“The two of you spent the afternoon rehearsing your pitch, didn’t you? I feel like I’m in the middle of one of those interventions.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Maybe we rehearsed a little, Gram. Is it working? If not, we have reams of information downloaded from the Internet that we’re prepared to read aloud to you.”
“You’re dear things, both of you. And I’m very grateful for your concern. But—”
“You could at least have an ophthalmologist do an exam. Cataracts or not, having your eyes checked is a good idea.”
“I’m not going to have an exam unless I’d be willing to have surgery if something was found. I’m all right the way I am. I’m getting along fine. I see the two of you quite well. And you’re both gorgeous.”
“Just think how much more gorgeous we’d be, Gram, not to mention how colorful.”
“Nice try, Elizabeth. But it’s really my decision, isn’t it?”
“Entirely your decision,” Nick said. “Just promise us that you’ll consider it.”
“I promise. Now, can we please talk about something else?”
An hour later, Nick announced he was going home to get a good night’s rest before the painting project that would commence the following day.
Elizabeth walked him to the porch.
“What do you think?”
“That she’s her granddaughter’s grandmother.”
“Argumentative?”
Nick smiled. “Determined. And smart. Like you, she’s able to listen and argue at the same time. She heard every word we said, and she’s going to give it some serious thought. Ultimately, though, it’s her decision.”
“You’re the man who likes to fix things.”
“That’s right. But we can’t make her do this.”
“And pushing her is likely to backfire.” Elizabeth sighed. “You’re probably thinking we shouldn’t mention it again?”
“Not unless she brings it up.”
“And we don’t tell her about the appointment you made.”
“No,” he said. “We don’t. Not yet.”
She admired the reasonableness of his approach. When she shook her head, it was with resignation, not protest. But her movement was forceful enough to dislodge a strand of auburn hair from where it belonged, behind her ear, into her eyes.
As she reached up to tuck it away, another hand moved to touch it—touch her—too.
Her hand was quicker. Impatient. She watched his hand, as if in slow motion, drop away.
By the time she looked up, it was too late to tell what expression had accompanied his gesture.
It was just as well, she told herself after they’d said good-night. Gram’s eyes were seeing too little, and hers were seeing too much.
Nick was a sensual man. He undoubtedly touched women, casually, all the time. And he was polite. Chivalrous. He’d brush a lock of hair from a woman’s eyes as reflexively as he’d open a door for her.
She might have misinterpreted his expression as longing. And completely misunderstood his touch….
Eight
The sanding of teal-colored paint, to create a pastel canvas for the cream that would cover it, was hard work, hot work, even in the morning.
Elizabeth appeared, at 9:00 a.m., with a glass of lemonade.
“Thanks,” Nick said.
“You’re welcome. Gram probably has a cooler somewhere. We could fill it with ice and a few pitchers of lemonade, and you could—”
“I prefer this.” You. Nick raised the glass in a silent toast and met her eyes over its frosted rim. “If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Good. What have you and Clara been doing since breakfast?”
“I’ve been scanning. She’s been puttering.”
“And?”
“The scanning’s going to work. It’ll take time, but I have time, and the result will be worth it. That’s the good news.”
“Clara hasn’t mentioned her eyesight.”
“No.”
“Are you surprised?”
“Not really. But I’ve been watching her. And you’re right. The impairment’s significant. And that’s from the perspective of someone on the outside looking in. I keep thinking what it must be like for her, peering through prisms that both block her view and scatter light.”
“She’s thinking about it, too.”
Elizabeth nodded, and frowned. “I lay awake last night worrying. What if she decides not to do anything? She could get in an accident, Nick. Even in broad daylight on a familiar route. The idea of her being hurt is terrifying enough. And if she injured someone else…She’d never forgive herself.”
“We’re not going to let that happen, Elizabeth. No matter what she decides.” There was nothing idle in Nick’s reassurance. It was a quiet promise. A solemn vow. “Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
After a moment, he smiled. “I could use another one of these in forty-five minutes or so.”