The More I See (7 page)

He was quiet for a moment, about to say something, hesitating and then retreating. It took a while and she waited.

"I don't want to be a cripple."

"Is that how you see yourself?"

"Don't you?"

"No."

His jaw tightened. "Everyone else around me does."

She closed her eyes, knowing that it was true to some degree. "They won't stop until you do."

When he didn't say anything further, she went on.

"You trust your horse. Why can't you trust Otis? He can give you so much more of your life back."

"It's not the same thing. When I'm riding, I'm free. I'm not someone who needs anyone else. I'm not wearing this big sign that says 'Watch out for the blind man.' " His heavy sigh echoed his obvious frustration. "Having a guide dog will just make me look ..."

"What?"

"I don't know. Less of a man, I guess." His laugh was harsh and filled with contempt. She wasn't quite sure for what. "I guess I'm egotistical enough to want to be able to stand on my own two feet."

"Ego has nothing to do with it. And Otis can help you achieve what you want. It has to be better than what you've been going through. I just don't understand why you won't at least give it a try."

"I don't need him. It would be a waste of both his time and yours. This next transplant is going to work."

Lyssa clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip, her own frustration getting the better of her.

"I hope it does, Cody. I really do. The advances in eye surgery have been tremendous these last few years. But I know the percentage of corneal transplants that take successfully after a burn like yours is only about five to eight percent, and you've already had one rejection. Aren't you afraid of setting yourself up for even bigger disappointments by not facing even the possibility of what you'll do if this next surgery doesn't work?"

"No," Cody said resolutely.

"Then you're not being very realistic. Or fair to yourself."

"Life isn't fair, in case you haven't noticed."

"No, it's not. But you can at least be fair to yourself even when life throws you a curve."

"What do you look like?" he asked, pulling at the grass clippings that formed a soft blanket on the ground around them.

Thrown by his abrupt change of subject, she said, "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "Curiosity, I guess. When I talk to most people, even my doctor, who I met years before losing my vision, I have a picture in my head of what they look like. Even if I can't see them, there is something to call up from my memory. I think I can pretty much figure out what Otis looks like."

Lyssa smirked. "He's much more beautiful than the average dog."

"I'll take your word for it. And I'll bet he's a hell of a kisser, but I'm going to take your word on that too. With you, though, I can't make a picture. It's like a blank slate."

"Well, there you go. I'm a faceless person sent out here to drive you crazy."

That earned her a laugh. A real one that seemed to bubble up from his belly right out into the wind. He had a nice laugh. She wondered if it was something the rest of his family missed hearing from him these last few months.

"I gotta tell you, I'm spending a huge amount of time wondering what you look like."

"You've had some time on your hands, I'll give you that."

Cody groaned. "Too much. I don't like that." His complaint was one of frustration, Lyssa knew. Without knowing Cody all that much, she'd already deduced that he had never been a man to sit idle before the accident. Not if he could help it. Most of what she'd seen on the ranch Cody had had some hand in the making. All this excess time must be driving him more crazy than she ever could.

She shifted to make herself more comfortable in the grass, tucking her legs up underneath her. Although she had no idea how she could get comfortable in this conversation.

"Does it really matter what I look like?" Deep down, Lyssa knew that it did. She'd seen firsthand the moment her eyes opened up to the world, being able to see reaction rather than just sense it. She had forgiven Chad a long time ago for falling for Kim.

And her sister, how could she fault her for being born with the beautiful gene? Somehow in the massive mix of gene distribution, Kim had been blessed with thick, flowing blond hair, enormous blue eyes, and a face with natural beauty that required absolutely no care. Kim transformed a pair of baggy sweatpants into runway fashion in a way Lyssa could only envy.

There were times when Lyssa would look in the mirror and catch the clear blue,

nondescript eyes, straight, sandy blond hair, and simple features, and wonder how the random distribution of genes had passed her by so unfairly. She wasn't ugly by any stretch. She just wasn't beautiful.

She knew it shouldn't matter. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder. But she also knew it did matter to some people. It had mattered to Chad.

Lyssa quietly sighed and decided to stop thinking about Chad and what she lacked in life.

She'd long ago learned to stuff those feelings into her own secret box and hide them away. It was much more crippling to let them win.

She had been blessed with something much more important in life. She got her vision back. What else could compare to that?

"It's no big deal, really," Cody was saying. "Like I said, I was just wondering. I mean, I can't imagine how you did it. Didn't you ever wonder what people looked like? What colors were? That must have been incredible, you know, the first time you opened your eyes and saw the world. I can't imagine it."

Lyssa shrugged. "It was pretty amazing." The heady feeling she'd initially felt that first day enveloped her again with the memory. "I didn't remember ever seeing before the accident."

"So you weren't born blind?"

"No, like you, I had an accident. Unfortunately, my father was killed. My real father, that is. Mom remarried when I was a little over three years old and all I remember growing up was my stepdad."

Nathan Jones had never adopted her, although Lyssa had never seen the need. She was his daughter in every way that counted. But there were times she wondered why he hadn't adopted her. When she was twelve years old, she had asked her mother about it. She couldn't see her mother's face, but sensed the sudden, subtle, sadness in the tone of her voice. Her mother had truly loved Lyssa's real dad. She explained that allowing her stepdad to adopt Lyssa would be like taking away the precious gift Brian McElhannon had given her, erasing his very existence.

When Lyssa could finally see, she'd sifted through boxes of baby pictures and photo albums and looked at her biological father's face for the first time. She looked exactly like him, and she finally understood.

"What was the first thing you saw?"

Lyssa smiled. "My mother. My vision didn't come back all at once. There were several surgeries over a period of time. I remember it starting out as a haze and then things slowly came into view. I knew my mother's voice so well, but I was stunned by her face and how beautiful she was. I remember staring at her for the longest time and then my sister, then my dad. Although by the time I got to my dad I had so many tears in my eyes I couldn't see much of anything."

She chuckled and swallowed a small lump that lodged in her throat.

"The first night I absolutely refused to go to sleep because I thought it was all a dream and I'd wake up blind again."

"Was it anything like you thought it would be?"

"Yes and no." Some things were very different.

"That's a good answer."

She laughed again and stood up, brushing the dry grass from her jeans.

"Faces intrigued me. Even sculpting never gave me a clear image in my mind."

"What's that?"

"What?"

"Sculpting. Are you talking about with clay?"

She shook her head. "With your hands. Touching something and then forming the image in your mind. Kind of like a hands-on sonogram. Most people did have blank faces to me, but the people I was close to usually let me sculpt them. That's what I called it anyway. I could feel what they looked like."

"With your hands."

"Yes, just like a real sculptor uses clay."

"How you do that?"

Cody seemed to be hanging on her every word and, for the first time since she'd arrived at the ranch, seemed very interested in what she had to say.

"I would touch their face, glide my fingers over their features, and commit them to memory. Kind of like an instant Polaroid."

"Will you show me?"

"What do you mean 'show you?' I can't really show you." She let out a quick laugh, mostly out of nervousness. Was he serious?

"Sure you can. You aren't afraid, are you?"

"No, of course not." Absolutely! Sculpting was not something she'd ever done with a stranger. Sure, Cody wasn't really a stranger anymore, but he certainly wasn't somebody she felt close enough to to touch in that way.

"Then what's the problem?" he asked.

"I can't accurately show you without..."

"Touching me? That is kind of the point, isn't it?"

His mouth lifted to one side in a devilish grin. This was a side of Cody she hadn't yet seen. Teasing, playful, and knowing full well he was getting to her.

Damn him.

"I've never shown someone how to do it before. Besides, it's no big deal."

"If it's no big deal, then I don't see the problem. Come on, I'm not going to bite. Just close your eyes and do it to me. I want to know how it's done."

Her pulse quickened, but she couldn't fathom why. Why did he do this to her?

She sat back down on the grass under the sturdy arms of the shady tree. She was

knee-to-knee with Cody, and had to lean forward with her arms stretched to reach him. He seemed to sense the problem and moved in closer, resting his hands on her knees. Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his cheek.

"Wait," Cody said, straightening just a little.

"What's wrong?" She had barely touched him.

"I want to do it to you too."

"After I show you—"

"No, at the same time," he said resolutely.

"Okay."

She was surprised by how quickly her answer escaped her lips. The thought of Cody touching her, even something so innocent as touching her face, sent a shiver zipping through her.

Not out of fear, but anticipation.

She'd felt his control, his strength, in the pool and it had taken her time to get over the effect it had on her.

It wasn't as if this was the first time she'd been touched this way by a man. She had sculpted with Chad before, and why wouldn't she? They'd been dating a long time by then and she was curious about everything about him.

Somehow, with Cody, Lyssa knew it would be very different.

# # #

Lyssa closed her eyes and silently sucked in a deep breath when she took Cody's hands in her much smaller ones and guided them to her warm cheeks. It had been more than four years since she'd sculpted with anyone. The last time had been with Chad.

In the darkness it had been easy. She didn't see Chad's reaction, she felt everything. In an ironic twist, her eyes got in the way now. Her sense of touch wasn't as strong as it had once been.

But Cody's was. And she still remembered all too well the feelings of intimacy that collided with her senses in reaction to just a simple touch.

"Just do what I do," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"That should be easy enough."

Easier said than done, Lyssa thought. At least for him. Cody's fingers weren't trembling like she knew hers were. Just being this close to Cody had made Lyssa's heart hammer inside her chest more than getting on that horse ever could.

"I always started at the top of the head."

She pulled off his hat and placed it on the soft, green grass by his side. He took off his glasses, placed them inside the hat, and closed his eyelids.

"Ever so lightly touch the skin until..."

And then she did it. She'd actually sighed like a lovesick teenager gazing up at the star high school basketball player. When Cody didn't react as if he'd noticed, relief washed over her flaming cheeks.

His hands were big, his palms wide, but his touch was remarkably delicate. It made Lyssa wonder what it would be like to be held in those hands. Not like today when he'd held her out of fear that she was drowning. He'd been frightened then, moving franti-cally and quickly because he'd thought she was hurt.

Now Cody was touching her in a way that spoke of gentleness and control. Quite

different, but it surprised Lyssa that her reaction to his touch was the same.

He gently pulled at the elastic band keeping her ponytail in place. She had to counter his move by leaning forward so she wouldn't lose balance. And then his fingers were in her hair, touching her lightly, pulling at little strands, rolling them between his fingers and the pad of his thumb all the way to their ends.

"Your hair is shorter than I imagined, silkier. And it seems to be all one length."

Lyssa cleared her throat, afraid to try her voice. "Yes, that's right. My forehead isn't that high and—'

"Ssh . . ." he said quietly, his voice blending in with the breeze while he lightly traced his fingers over her eyelids. "I want to figure it out for myself. Do you always wear your hair up?"

"Not always."

Her hands had stopped moving, settled on the square of his jaw. She was too distracted by what Cody was doing and how his touch made her feel.

"Wait, this isn't working."

Thank you, God. Lyssa didn't know how much more of this sweet torture she could take.

"Drop your hands. I think I have the hang of this. Just let me touch you."

"Okay."

She fiddled with her hands in her lap as Cody continued to move.

"You have narrow eyes. What color are they?"

"Blue."

"Blue like what?"

She shrugged. What could she really say? Growing up, women are taught to love

themselves the way they are, but it was human nature to pick yourself apart when it was only you looking in the mirror. To actually have to describe herself and be honest was just too weird. Still, for the sake of fair play, she gave it a try.