True Love (28 page)

She tapped his hand. “I charge big bucks for advice, you know.”

“I’ll pay.” They laughed together, but soon Kyle grew quiet, thoughtful. “Can I tell you something?”

She nodded, then realized that he couldn’t see her. “Sure,” she said for emphasis.

“I like you.”

She felt her mouth go dry. “I like you too.”

“Once we both go home, can I call you? Visit with you?”

So long as you’re blind
, she thought, but she said, “Oh gosh, once you get back to regular life, you’ll forget all about me.”

Kyle grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “Not so, Carley. I’ll never forget you.”

She felt a wave of fear. There was no way they could have a relationship once they were both out of the hospital. Sooner or later someone would see her and tell Kyle the truth. Certainly there would be no way she could ever persuade Janelle to impersonate her again. How could she put him off without hurting his feelings or telling him
more than she ever wanted him to know? “Why don’t we wait and see how things go once we blow this place?”

“You don’t want me to keep in touch, do you?” He looked dejected.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But it’s what you meant. Is it because I could be permanently blind? Is it because you don’t want to be stuck with a guy who’s blind?”

“No way,” she started to protest.

Kyle interrupted. “Steve and Jason told me how pretty you are. I can’t figure out why you don’t have a boyfriend, unless you’re so beautiful that you can pick anyone you want. If that’s the case, I don’t stand a chance.”

In her heart she longed to tell him that he was handsome, smart, nice—the most wonderful guy she’d ever known. And that having him for a boyfriend would be the greatest thing that ever happened to her. But of course she couldn’t. She could never let him know how she truly felt. “I think we should not talk about this stuff,” she said quietly. “I
think we should have fun right now and not talk about tomorrow.” “But—”

“Please,” she begged. “Let’s just be friends as long as we’re here.”

“If that’s what you want.…” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice.

“It’s what I want.”

“Y
ou’re going home? Lucky you.” Reba gave Carley a wistful look. “I sure am going to miss you.”

“I’ll call you,” Carley said, feeling sorry for Reba, who was still recovering from her abdominal surgery. “And before you know it, you’ll be headed home too.” Home for Reba was a small town in middle Tennessee, at least four hours from Knoxville and the hospital.

“When are you leaving?” “My mom’s packing my stuff and filling out the paperwork right now.”

“I’m glad you stopped by to tell me. Have you told Kyle?”

Carley shook her head. “He’s my next stop.” She didn’t let on how much she was dreading it.

“What have you decided to do about him?”

“Nothing. I figure that once he goes home, he’ll get on with his life.”

Reba dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “I think you’re dreaming. I think he’s going to want to see you.”

“Don’t say that. You and I both know it’s impossible.”

“Wrong. You
think
it’s impossible, so you won’t change your mind about telling him the truth.”

Carley squealed, “Will you stop it already! I know what I’m doing.”

Reba shook her head in exasperation. “Never mind. It’s like talking to a brick wall.” She grinned. “Anyway, keep your promise and call me. I know we haven’t been friends for long, but you’re my best friend ever and I want things to work out for
you. You know, Carley, in spite of the way your face looks, you really do have a shot at being normal.”

“Just how do you figure that?”

Reba’s gaze led to the wheelchair parked near her bed. “I wish my face was the only thing messed up about me.”

Impulsively Carley leaned down and hugged her. “I’ll be in touch.” She positioned her crutches under her arms and retreated from the room.

She stopped at Kyle’s door, took a deep breath, and knocked. When he called, “Come in,” she did.

“I got my walking papers,” she told him without preamble.

His bandages couldn’t hide his disappointment. “I’ll miss you.”

“That’s what Reba said. Maybe I should start a fan club. Charge a fee.” Carley kept her voice light and breezy.

“You said you’d be back for PT. Will you come up and visit with me?” he asked.

“You bet. I’ll even bring you some new Books on Tape.”

He held out his hand and she reached out and grasped it. His grip felt warm and strong and she wished she didn’t ever have to let go. “You take care of yourself,” he said.

“You too.”

“You did mean what you said the other night about staying friends, didn’t you?”

“I meant it.” She was telling him what he wanted to hear and only hoped he wouldn’t hate her when he figured out the truth—that she had no intention of ever seeing him again.

Without warning, Kyle reached up and caught the side of her face with his hand. She gasped, but then realized he was cupping the right side, the normal side. “Don’t be mad,” he said softly. “I’ve wanted to touch you for the longest time.”

Just so long as his fingers didn’t venture to the left side of her face, she didn’t mind. “It’s all right,” she said, glad she had crutches for support because her knees had gone weak with anxiety and emotion.

He smoothed his thumb along her cheek, brushing the fringe of her eyelashes and the
bridge of her nose. Too
close
! her mind warned. Carley pulled back. “Please don’t,” he whispered. “Can I touch your hair?” She gulped. “Okay.”

His fingers moved upward until they stroked the tips of her thick, dark hair. He wound strands around his hand, tugging them gently, tenderly. He rolled long clusters between his thumb and fingers, as if testing the texture. As if tasting it with his sense of touch. He reached higher, combed his fingers through the thickness, and said, “Very soft. I figured it would be.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she could scarcely breathe. Tears stung her eyes. She longed to have him kiss her. If only … 
if only
.

He withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed deeply. “Smells like flowers. And sunshine.” He turned his face toward her, and she touched the corners of the bandages on his eyes. They were the barrier that held him prisoner, yet protected her. “I’ve noticed that scent every time you’ve come into my room. I’ve wondered if it was your hair or some perfume.”

“New shampoo. The ad campaign said it would drive guys wild,” she joked, hoping to make him laugh and break the tension.

He smiled. “Funny girl. But you don’t always have to make a joke.”

Humor was the only way she knew of dealing with intense emotional moments. “I’ve got to go.” She stepped backward.

“I’ll be seeing you, pretty Carley.”

She winced because his words had stung. “Goodbye, Kyle.”

She hurried next door, where her mother looked up from the suitcase she was packing. “There you are. I wondered where you ran off to.” She paused and eyed Carley narrowly. “Are you all right? You look like you’re crying.”

“I’m fine, Mom. I was just saying goodbye.”

Her mother shook her head, bemused. “You never cease to amaze me. You’ve always said you hated hospitals, and now you’re crying because you have to leave this one. I’d have thought you’d never wanted to see the inside of this place again.”

“I don’t, Mom. Call the nurse and tell her
I’m ready for the wheelchair ride downstairs.” She turned to the mirror and stared at the twisted half of her face, then jerked her hair back into a ponytail. Suddenly she didn’t want anything to obstruct her true image, her real self. She didn’t want to forget that what Kyle had made her feel was an illusion. She would never be normal. Or pretty. She mustn’t ever forget.
Never!

At home Carley moped around the house for the rest of the afternoon, unable to shake a case of the blues. She missed the routine of the hospital. Most of all, she missed Kyle. The next morning Janelle asked, “You want a ride to school? Jon’s picking me up.”

“I’ll catch the bus,” Carley said. “The sooner I get back into my regular routine, the better.”

“Mom wants me to take you to PT tomorrow afternoon. Trouble is I have ensemble practice every day after school. State competition is in March, and if we don’t practice every day, we’ll never get a superior rating.”

“I can drive myself.”

“Tell that to Mom.”

“I’m telling you, I can drive. There’s nothing wrong with my right foot, and that’s the one that controls the car.”

“You’ll have to clear it with Mom,” Janelle said.

“How will you get home if I persuade her?”

“Jon will bring me.”

“I forgot about lover boy.”

“Be nice. I’ll give up ensemble practice on the days you have PT if Mom says you can’t drive yourself.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that.”

Janelle shrugged. “I hate practice.”

But Carley could tell that her sister really did want to practice. It was her senior year and her final opportunity to earn a superior rating at state chorus competitions. “Let me talk to Mom.”

At school she felt as she always did—a nonparticipant, on the outside looking in. Her classes weren’t a struggle; schoolwork came easily to her. But blending into the social scenery was something else again. A few kids spoke to her, asked her how her leg was doing, but most looked past her. Or over
her. Or through her as if she hardly existed. She couldn’t wait for the bell to ring, marking the end of the day, so that she could go home and forget all about high school and how she didn’t fit in.

She told herself that in a few days she’d toughen up and it wouldn’t matter. But the truth was that someone—Kyle—had treated her as if she were pretty and desirable. Now she had to return to being the ugly duckling, and it was difficult.

She was deep in thought, fiddling with the combination lock on her locker after school, balancing books and crutches, knowing she had to hurry if she was going to make it to her bus stop, when her notebook slipped from her hands and spilled on the hall floor.

Kids pouring out of rooms scurried past, stepping all over the binder. She could only watch helplessly, for she was unable to stoop down and rescue her notebook for fear of being trampled. All at once a boy’s voice said, “Let me get that for you, babe.”

She spun, forgetting to shield her face. Her rescuer was tall with dark hair and brown eyes. He was smiling, but as he caught
sight of her face, his smile faded, and shocked surprise took its place. “I’ll get it,” she snapped, and struggled to hold her crutches with one hand while she bent over.

Then another male voice intervened. “Problems, Carley?”

It was Jon. He stooped and gathered up her notebook and scattered papers. He stood and glared at the other boy, still standing, staring. Jon snarled, “What’s your problem? If you’re not going to help, get out of the way.”

The boy darted off.

“Dumb jerk,” Jon muttered under his breath.

Carley straightened, her body burning with humiliation. “Thanks for retrieving my stuff,” she said, grabbing for the notebook.

Jon held it back. “Wait.”

“I’ve got to hurry or I’ll miss my bus.” She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. Couldn’t stand knowing that he’d seen her humiliated by a stranger’s look.

“I’m hanging around waiting for Janelle. Will you wait with me?” Jon asked.

“I can’t.”

Jon reached out and took her arm. “I want to talk to you, Carley. There’re some things I need to say. Some things I
have
to say. You can get a ride home with Janelle and me, so don’t run off. Hear me out. Please.”

T
he second bell rang and Carley sighed. “Well, I don’t have much choice, do I? I’ll never make it in time to catch my bus now.”

Jon took her books and stacked them atop his. “Come on,” he urged. “Where to?” “To the atrium.”

The high school was built in the shape of a wheel, with the atrium at its hub and halls poking outward like spokes. With benches, potted plants, and a large overhead skylight, the atrium became an indoor student gathering place between classes and before and after school hours. Once there, Carley settled
on a concrete bench emblazoned with the school seal. Jon sat down beside her and gestured toward the Fine Arts hallway. “Janelle has to come this way, so she’ll see us.”