Blessed Assurance (34 page)

“But I don't think I'm capable of loving any man.” She faced him, her brown eyes overcast with suffering. “All I know is that the thought of trusting, loving someone, makes me sick with fear.”

“Perfect love casts out fear,” he murmured.

“Nothing is perfect in this world.” She grimaced. “Don't preach to me.” She straightened up and turned away from him again. “You said I was a changed woman and I am. After all I've gone through in three short months, I'm finally able to see my way. I'm going to live a good life, doing work I care about. Nothing will stop me now. And love isn't part of my plan.”

He straightened, but he suddenly lost energy. How could he shake her out of this cynicism? “Shall we go in?”

“Wait.” She held up her hand. “You go in the office and keep the manager busy while I look around in the back.”

“Cecy, no—”

“Don't argue.” She motioned airily and lightened her tone. “It's my factory. It's my story.”

Grimacing, he headed for the door with the word “Office” printed above. Cecy walked around the other side of the dusty warehouse looking for another entrance. This time she was determined to glimpse what was really going on here, not what Mr. Edmonds wanted her to think was going on. She turned the corner of the building and came upon what must be the loading area. A gray-haired man was snoozing on a chair propped against the wall at the top of a short flight of steps. Running lightly upward, she passed by the sleeping man. Had Edmonds closed down the operation here or was this just a time between shipments?

Inside the warehouse, only dim natural light shone through high,
grimy windows. Cecy walked quietly across the littered cement floor, looking up at the second-floor landing.

Farther along the upper landing, an opening door slammed back against the wall. “I told you get outta here!” The voice was a roar and markedly slurred. Was someone drinking on the job?

“But you owe me three days wages,” a child's voice whined above. “I can't go home without it. Ma said.”

Running toward the voices, Cecy rushed up the steps. Just as she reached the top, a burly man with a tight grip on a child's shirt met her at the top of the steps, his back to her.

The scruffy child bit the hand which held him.

“You little—” The man struck the side of the child's head. The boy screamed.

Cecy launched herself forward. “Stop!”

The man swung around toward her. His elbow hit her hard, right at the breast bone, just above her corset. She gasped one torturous breath.

Her own momentum multiplied the blow's force. She flailed frantically. Backward. The stairs! She was falling backward—screaming.

Her head struck a step. Blinding agony. Her back scraped. Tumbling over and over…toward the cement floor. “Linc! Help!”

The late-night routine of nurses and patients went on around Linc as he kept his vigil. Cecilia, his own dear Cecy, lay unconscious in the darkened room for the second day.

The white bandages around Cecy's head stood out in the feeble light from the hallway. Hidden by the shadows were the black and purpled bruises that surrounded both her eyes and down the side of her face and chin. The doctors had told him her body had suffered bruises all over and two cracked ribs. The doctors surmised the repeated blows to her head must be responsible for her continued unconsciousness.

He glanced at the newspaper in his lap, which now proclaimed Cecy a tragic heroine and tossed it away. His back aching from sitting, he paced at the foot of her iron bed.

Dear God, this young woman has become a part of my life, my journal, the work You sent me to do. This young woman, the woman I love, was injured while protecting a child. You were there. You'd let her fall. Why?

A memory from his past surfaced: the image of Virginia clinging to life in the hellish hours after their son's stillbirth. He sat down, weakened.
I can't lose, Cecy, Lord. Please.
Holding his head in his hands, tears leaked through his fingers.
My faith feels like a mist, no longer a firm foundation
.

Linc leaned down and kissed Cecy's drawn cheek. “You must wake up and drink and eat soon.” The vivid memory of hearing her screams from the back of that warehouse turned his veins to ice. He'd nearly throttled the drunk who sent her down the steps. It had taken two men to pull him off. His own rage had shocked Linc. At last, fatigue conquered him. Leaning back in the stiff chair, he fell asleep.

 

A moan.

Linc blinked in the subtle light of dawn. He sat up, shaking off sleep. He cleared his throat. “Cecy?”

He watched her lick her dry lips. Seizing her hand, he leaned forward. “Cecy, wake up.” Hope flared.

“Oh, where am I?” She groaned. “Everything hurts.”

Thank you, Lord
. His voice shook. “You took a fall. Don't breathe too deeply. You've got two cracked ribs.”

“Oh, I ache so…” She touched the bandages around her head.

He kissed her hand. “You're badly bruised. Now you're awake and everything's going to be all right.” His heart beating a triumphant chorus, he rose to summon the nurse.

“Why is it so dark? Turn on the light. I can't see you.”

Her fretful words froze him where he stood. In the early morning light, he turned back and looked into her eyes. Slowly he passed his hand in front of her eyes, knowing they should automatically track this movement.

They didn't.

The floor felt as though it were spinning beneath his feet. He clutched the cold iron railing on the bed.

“Turn on the lights, Linc,” she repeated, agitated. “I'll feel better just seeing where I am.”

He passed his trembling hand in front of her face once more. No response. Turning, he stumbled to the door. He shouted, heedless of the other patients and the early hour, “Nurse! Call the doctor. I need him—now!” Then he stood gasping against the door jam, too shaky to move, to pray.

 

The budding pink azaleas along the house mocked Linc as he walked slowly up the steps to his side door. Kang opened it for him. “Mr. Linc, we got good news for you.”

Linc dragged his hat from his head. “What did you say?”

“Del come back last night.”

Linc halted. “Del? Home?”

Kang nodded. “Aunt Susan sing all morning.”

“Good.” Linc leaned against the wall.

“You need coffee. I make fresh.”

Linc let Kang lead him to the kitchen table. Linc lowered himself to the chair. Beaming, Susan walked into the kitchen. Her obvious joy made his anguish seem darker, weigh heavier. He tried to feel relief over Del's return.
I feel dead
.

“Linc, what's wrong?” Susan put her hand on his forehead as she had done so many times when he was a child.

“She can't see.” Linc's voice ground low in his throat.

Susan sat down. “Lord, have mercy.”

“They had to sedate her with laudanum.” Her remembered shrieks enveloped his mind. “I came home to get some sleep. I have to be there when she wakes again.” He covered his face with trembling hands. “Susan, I can't see my way. I was so sure the worst was over for Cecy. How much can one person bear?”

Susan touched his sleeve. “You're in love with her.”

“My love only led her into harm's way.” His voice broke.

“What exactly did the doctor say?” Susan took his hand.

“An eye specialist said the blindness must be from striking her head repeatedly as she fell. Her eyesight could return slowly or not at all.”

“Miss Cecilia's blind?” Meg's shocked voice made Linc look up. Meg and Del came in together.

“Yes, Meg.” He choked on the words. He opened his arms.

She ran to him. “I don't want her to be blind!”

Meg's tears wet his neck. A subdued Del crowded close to Susan's side. “Home for good, Del?”

“Yes, sir,” Del said solemnly. “I won't ever run away again. I don't belong on the Coast. I guess I don't belong anywhere, but Freddie said I should stick with my family.”

“I think Kang mentioned that also.” Though the boy's unhappiness was clear, Linc gave the shadow of a smile. Kang nodded but did not show much satisfaction.

His spirit dragging in the dust, Linc breathed in. “I should have been there to break her fall.”

“Seems to me that's exactly what you been doing ever since you met her.” Susan looked at Linc. “Maybe it was time for her to hit bottom.”

But I've hit bottom with her.

 

Feeling as though he dragged bags of cement behind him, Linc entered Cecy's room.

“Who's there?” she asked anxiously.

“It's Linc.” He walked to her bedside. Her bruised and cut face stabbed his conscience.

“You left me.” Her accusing voice heaped burning coals on his head.

“Not until you fell asleep.” His hand inched over the coarse muslin sheet close to her arm, but stopped just before touching her.

“They drugged me.”

“You were hysterical.”

“Go away.” Her tone was petulant. One tear slid down her right cheek.

“I won't leave you.”

She rolled away from him in obvious pain, showing him her back.

He sat down beside her. “I won't leave you.”

“I…don't…want…you.” She swallowed sobs in between words.

“I love you and I won't leave you.”

“Go.” Her voice was absolutely cold.

Perhaps silence would be best. He bowed his head to pray. But no words came. His sorrow, shock, were too deep for words.

In the corridor, nurses passed by in their starched white uniforms and caps. Later, a nurse marched in. An orderly carrying a tray of food followed her. “I'm here to feed Miss Jackson.”

“Take it away,” Cecy ordered, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“I have doctor's orders.” The nurse moved purposefully to the bed.

Linc startled the orderly by taking the tray. “I'll see she eats.”

The nurse grimaced, then looked at the watch pinned to her breast. “Five minutes.” She marched out.

He set the tray on the bedside table. Time to get Cecy thinking about more than herself. He knew she had a tender heart. “I spoke to your mother—”

“Oh, no.”

“She had to be told. I told her you were temporarily blind—”

“You lied to her.”

“You are taking the worst view—”

She went on heedlessly, “I don't want to go on.”

“You must eat. Your mother can't lose you.” He coaxed, “She's lost everything else. Will you abandon her?” He waited.

Slowly she rolled back toward him.

Relief overwhelmed him. By the time the nurse returned, Linc had Cecy sitting up with a large white napkin protecting her gown. The nurse waited sternly with arms crossed.

Linc picked up the bowl and plain spoon. “Looks like chicken broth, Cecy.” He carefully piloted the spoon to her mouth. Cecy opened and swallowed. The nurse walked out of the room. Linc watched helplessly as tears rolled down Cecy's cheeks. He spooned another swallow for her. He had no comforting words for her. His own anguish defied words.

 

“I know you mean it kindly, but I'm not up to visitors.” When she'd heard Fleur's voice, Cecy had rolled away. Having felt the bandages on her face and being painfully aware of the stitches that had been taken along her chin, she couldn't bear for anyone to see her like this. Cecy heard the scrape of a chair on the floor.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder. “I can't ignore you, Cecilia.”

“Fleur, I can't face anyone. Please.” Cecy choked back tears.

“You don't have to face me, honey. At home when neighbors have trouble, we sit with them.”

Cecy lay still. “Sitting with me will do no good.”

“I'm staying to feed you lunch. Ann is coming tomorrow.”

“No.” The idea of people coming in to look at her like a freak show—no.

“You have friends and we won't abandon you.”

Cecy couldn't speak. Every minute—day and night—impenetrable blackness clung to her. Her hands moved. She couldn't see them. She felt as though she'd become a shadow, a ghost in an end
less night. Bleakness had slipped deeply inside.
I don't want to live if I must depend on others.

 

“Cecy, I talked to the doctor this morning. The longer you stay in bed the weaker your legs will become.”

The thought of leaving the safe haven of her bed made her shake inside, but she knew she didn't have a choice. Sliding to the edge of the bed, she swung over her feet.

“Here's my arm.”

Cecy stood. An image flashed through her mind, another day when she'd been too petrified to take a step—Aunt Amelia leaving her on the doorstep of the Boston school years ago. She froze, waves of fear washing over her.

“Just take one step.”

She grasped Linc. Terrified, she took a step. “I hate this,” she whispered.

 

Though the morning sun warmed her face, Cecy clung to Linc's arm as he led her through the endless midnight to his door. “Take me up to my room,” she murmured to Linc. The safety of his guest room drew her like a magnet.

Linc helped her inside. “I couldn't bring the children into the hospital to see you.”

She wanted to whirl away from him. But his home presented itself as a terrifying maze of objects to fall over, to bump into, to break. How could she make her recollections fit this dreadful murkiness that never knew dawn?

“Miss Cecilia!” The clatter of a child's footsteps warned Cecy to brace herself for Meg's hug around her waist. Cecy let go of Linc. Her hands skimmed over Meg's soft face.

“Come on.” The little girl threatened to pull her off her feet.

“Wait.” Cecy reached out to Linc who led her to the parlor chair, and, after feeling for it, she sat down. Meg put her kitten into Cecy's lap under her hands.

This simple act brought an avalanche of remembrance—Meg bringing her mother a kitten.
I'm an invalid now, too.

A small hand on her cheek startled her. She jerked in her chair. The cat jumped down with a thump. “I was just wiping away your tear,” Meg said.

Susan spoke up: “I told Linc he's wrong. You should go to be with your mother at the sanitarium.”

The news of her accident and blindness had caused her mother to relapse. And at the sanitarium, Cecy'd be safe from prying eyes, too. Cecy tucked the handkerchief into her pocket. “Del, are you here?”

“Yes, Miss.”

The boy still sounded unhappy. “You won't run away again, will you?”

“No, Miss, I won't.”

“Good.” She wished she could let him know how fortunate he was. But who was she to tell him to be happy?

“I want to read you an article about Caruso,” Linc said. Cecy listened in pained silence. She'd looked forward to hearing the great Caruso sing for months. Now while the rest of San Francisco society thrilled to the world famous tenor, she'd sit alone. In the dark.

“Tomorrow night we're going to hear Caruso sing,” Linc announced.

Cecy gasped. “No. I don't want anyone to see me like this.”

“No one will notice you. Effie Bond has arranged with the stage manager at the Grand Opera House to have you enter by the stage door. I've purchased seats where we won't be seen. We'll go early—”

“No
.” She stood.

Linc took her hands. “You're not missing Caruso. You're blind, Cecy. Not dead.”

She pulled away from him, then stopped—afraid she might fall without his help.
I might as well be
.

 

Grimly, Linc sat beside Cecy in their seats at the Grand Opera House. A heavy black veil covered her face. Even with house lights
up during intermission, their seats had been in the shadows. He'd tried to take her hand in the darkness, but she'd put up a barrier of polite coldness.

Onstage, Caruso and a formidable soprano sang in the final act of
Carmen
. Linc knew the opera's story of obsessive love well. In the Spanish mountains, the temptress, Carmen, played cards with her smuggler friends. She drew the card of death. Carmen laughed and sang “You can't avoid your fate!”

Linc glanced at the silent woman beside him. He was as blind as she. He'd thought he was seeing clearly, had a plan, but no more. Not all his pleading had changed Cecilia's intention of joining her mother at the sanitarium. Tomorrow he would rise early and drive Cecy to her mother. Would he ever get her to return? Even if she returned, would she ever be the same? The final musical note echoed and faded. Applause vibrated throughout the opera house. Roses, red roses cascaded from the balcony and private boxes onto the stage—bow after bow.