I Can See for Miles Page 2

  “Wednesday? That’s good, Charlie. Did he have a cancellation or something?” Bill’s tone was gruff, deep, and no-nonsense.

  “Yeah, he managed to fit me in at the last minute. Dad… tell Mom….” He trailed off, knowing he didn’t need to formulate the words for Bill to understand what he was trying to say.

  “I will… but you know that woman has enough hope in her soul for everyone. She’s your mother, Charlie. It’s her job to hope for the best until someone tells her different,” Bill replied.

  “I know.” Charlie smiled softly. “But she does know that I’m thirty-two, right? She managed to let me go long enough to work in LA for eight years.”

  Bill’s voice became serious for a moment. “Charlie, we’re your parents. We wished you well and watched you spread your wings… but it doesn’t matter whether you live in LA or across the field… we will never let you go, boy.”

  “I love you, Pop.” Charlie smiled, blinking against the sting behind his eyes.

  “Me too. Now, let’s talk barbecue before I need to check I still have my balls,” Bill deadpanned.

  Charlie chuckled loudly, his mirth escalating when he heard his mother remonstrating with his father for his language. “Okay, meeting is at three, so if you and Mom could get here about two thirty, I can introduce you to everyone, and then we can get the barbecue set up. Everyone will probably be pretty hungry, so I’m guessing if we’re ready to start filling plates around four, that’ll be cool.”

  “Great, we’ll see you in a while. Oh, and just to warn you, your mother has made some of your favorites to put in the freezer—apparently you’re too thin,” Bill said in a stage whisper.

  “Tell her I’m wiry, not thin. I’ll see you later, Pop.” Charlie grinned and hung up. He adored his parents and knew everyone probably thought they had the best parents in the world, but he actually did… honestly. He knew they’d insist on coming with him on Wednesday to see Dr. Morgan. Not that he minded. He never liked to go by himself anyway, but he had a feeling that this time the news wouldn’t be what they had been hoping for. He already knew for himself that his latest operation hadn’t worked as well as they’d thought it would, so whatever Morgan said wasn’t going to be a big surprise to him.

  The operation had been eight weeks ago, and he had already been for his six-week checkup, when everything had been promising. Morgan had been happy with his progress, and they had all crossed their fingers that this time it had been a success and the cataracts wouldn’t grow back. Even Charlie had been hopeful, until three days ago when he woke up with the telltale clouded vision, clouds that hadn’t disappeared when he was fully awake or when he used his drops. He remembered the resignation in Morgan’s tone when he’d spoken to him on the phone and told him his symptoms had reoccurred.

  All Charlie had ever wanted to do was be an architect. Even as a young boy, he had spent hours building intricate constructions and drawing out designs for weird and wonderful buildings he wanted to create when he grew up. He had been in his sixth year with Gentles & Mitchell, working on a stylish, modern, new-age house for a movie star with more money than sense, when he’d noticed the first distortion in his vision. Charlie had shrugged it off at first with the usual excuses: he was tired, he didn’t wear his reading glasses enough, burning the candle at both ends—he’d used them all. Until he could hardly see his drawings six inches from his face with his glasses on.

  “Cataracts,” the doctor had pronounced immediately and referred him for surgery. It was rare in someone his age but not unheard of, and all they would have to do was a simple operation to remove them, and he would be fine—and he was. But then they grew back again, eight months later. The blurred vision returned and the tiredness, along with the pounding headaches—and a second operation to remove them. Then a third and a fourth and a fifth. By this time, Charlie had become resigned to the fact he was never going to be able to continue with his lifelong dream. How could he create buildings from nothing if he couldn’t see? That’s when he’d returned to the comfort of his momma’s arms and her peach cobbler, letting the familiarity of home go some way to healing his broken heart.

  Camp Aisling had been his father’s idea. He’d come across a similar retreat on the Internet and had mentioned it to Charlie: how there must be other people out there who’d had to give up their dreams and turn their lives in another direction; how they must long to be able to go somewhere to relax and meet like-minded people and just be treated like everyone else and do things that sighted people took for granted.

  So here they were, four years later. Their reputation was first-class, and they had regulars who came back year after year. Charlie loved it. Loved hearing the children’s laughter as they splashed in the lake, not a care in the world. Loved the sound of joy in someone’s voice when they were astride a horse and joining in a trek through the woods, after thinking it was something they would never experience. It gave him back some of the purpose he’d lost.

  During the four years he had built up Camp Aisling, Charlie had had three more operations, ending eight weeks ago when he had been given “experimental” laser treatment. No one could give him or his parents an answer as to why the cataracts kept returning… everything was always a supposition. Always with the vain hope that each operation would be the last.

  A knock on the door brought him back to the here and now, and he turned in his chair, calling out to whoever it was to come in. “Hey, Mike, what’s up?” Charlie asked when the door opened to reveal Mike Peters, one of the guides.

  “Nothing, boss,” Mike replied. “Your momma and daddy are here. Do you want me to fire up the barbie?”

  Charlie shook his head ruefully at Mike’s choice of words. Mike had been to Australia last month for two weeks and now everything had an Australian twang to it, and he didn’t have the heart to tell Mike his Australian accent actually sounded more South African than anything else. “Sure. Jeez, is that the time already? Must have got away from me there.” Charlie stood up and stretched his arms over his head, feeling his back crack and his muscles complain at the movement. “Any campers making their way up yet?”

  “Yeah, the Brody clan are already swinging on the porch, and the Johnsons are entertaining themselves in the living room. Maggie is in the kitchen making the drinks.”

  “What about the three guys in cabin seven? Any sign of them yet?” Charlie grabbed his stick and slipped it in one of his belt loops so it was easy to grab if he needed it. He ignored Mike’s thinly veiled snort.

  “No, not yet,” Mike said, waggling his eyebrows at Charlie. “I heard the tall one was pretty hot.”

  “Good God, do you people ever stop?” Charlie drawled, playfully nudging Mike in the stomach as he passed. “Besides, don’t let Tom hear you say that. He’ll be giving you the cold shoulder tonight.”

  Mike guffawed loudly, clapping Charlie on the back as they walked down the hall together. “As long as it’s only the shoulder; it’s the ass I’m interested in.”

  “Dude, do not talk about Tom’s ass—images are now bouncing around in my head and making me want to bleach my brain,” Charlie rejoined, pushing through the saloon doors into the kitchen. “Hey, how’re the drinks coming?”

  Maggie turned from where she was stirring a large jug of homemade lemonade and smiled brightly. “Almost done, just need to do one more jug. I’ve made six, so that should keep us going throughout the meeting. The temperature’s picking up again; it’s gonna be another scorcher this afternoon. Wanna taste? I think I might have put too much sugar in this one.”

  “Sure,” Charlie said with a grin as he stood beside her at the counter. He lifted his hand to take the glass she held out to him, his fingers gripping thin air as his depth perception failed him and he missed the glass completely.

  “Charlie?” Maggie queried softly, taking his hand and curling his fingers around the glass. “You got something to tell us?”

  Charlie lifted the glass to his lips and took a couple of swallows. “Y
eah… there is too much sugar in this one.” He put the glass down on the counter and clapped his hands together. “Let’s go and get these campers riled up! Where’s Jason and Tom?” He didn’t need to see the look that passed between Mike and Maggie to know it was there.

  Mike cleared his throat and followed Charlie out into the living room. “Tom is just checking over Lady Jane with the vet and then he’ll be up. Jason is out back filling the water butts for the beer.”

  “Hey, guys,” Charlie said cheerfully to the three people looking through the bookshelves in the living room. The Johnson family had arrived yesterday and had been settling into their cabin. Their youngest son, Davey, was twelve years old, and he had been a victim of trachoma, losing his sight completely four years ago. This was Davey and his parents’ second visit to Camp Aisling, and Charlie knew Davey was itching to get on a horse again. “How’re you doing, Wavy Davey?” Charlie teased, holding up his hand and nudging Davey’s arm. “You gonna high-five me, dude? I’m looking forward to our first ride tomorrow.”

  Davey grinned widely and raised his hand so Charlie could gently slap their palms together. “I cannot wait, man. Are we gonna go up the high trail again? Do you think the eagles will still be there?” Charlie couldn’t help but chuckle as the words tumbled from Davey’s lips.

  “Maybe, just maybe, depends on whether or not you pay attention this time and don’t try to head off anywhere on your own,” Charlie said mock sternly.

  “Me?” Davey replied, the picture of innocence. “I can’t help it if you can’t keep up, man.”

  There was general laughter all around, and Charlie hugged Davey to him. He was a good kid, and Charlie liked him immensely. “Is everyone else here?” He turned to glance at Mike over his shoulder. “Do you want to round them up and we’ll have the meeting on the porch? It’s way too nice out there to stay inside.”

  “Are you going to help your mother?” Sharon said from the doorway. “I’ve got enough peach cobbler here to keep Davey busy for a week.”

  Charlie smiled and bent down to kiss his mother on the cheek, breathing in the scent of her perfume, warm, familiar, and comforting. “Hey, Mom.” Charlie took the tray of peach cobbler from her hands and placed it on the large table in the center of the room.

  “Hello?” Mario’s voice sounded a little uncertain as he walked into the room, followed by Greg and Josh, with Greg’s guiding hand on Josh’s elbow. “Sorry we’re late,” he said ruefully, prodding Josh in the ribs and making the big man flinch. He ducked Josh’s arm as he tried to return the favor and grinned. “Gigantor here wanted to stop and pick daisies. He’s going to make me a necklace later.”

  “Please ignore my vertically challenged friend,” Josh drawled, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. “We’re late because he doesn’t know how to read a signpost. I had to rescue him.”

  “Well, you’re here now,” Sharon said, casting a glance at Maggie and winking at the younger woman, much to Charlie’s embarrassment. “If I get lost, will you rescue me?”

  Charlie’s face flushed, and he tried not to pay too much attention to the curve of Josh’s lips when he grinned at Sharon. “Ahem… Mother, if you could put your tongue back in, maybe we can get the meeting started?”

  “Of course, let’s all go outside, shall we?” Sharon said in her soft voice, ignoring the glare Charlie threw at her when she moved to Josh’s side. “Why don’t you sit by me, young man, and you can tell me all about yourself.”

  Charlie groaned inwardly, not knowing who to feel sorrier for… Josh… or himself.

  Chapter Three

  CHARLIE waited until everyone had arrived and then took up pole position, using his arms to lever himself up onto the railing that ran all the way along the porch. He looked around at the party of people before him, all seated on the comfy chairs on the porch, and the four children staying this week, all squashed into the swinging bench, their little feet dangling inches from the floor. He pushed his glasses farther up on the bridge of his nose and smiled at the assembly.

  “Okay, well, I think we can all smell that Pop’s got the barbecue going,” Charlie said with a chuckle as he unfolded the piece of paper he had printed off the computer. “So why don’t we get this show on the road, and then we can get to the important stuff—”

  “Yeah, peach cobbler,” Davey crowed, blushing when his mother shushed at him. “What? Sharon’s cobbler is the best.”

  “I totally agree, Squirt,” Charlie chuckled. “So I’ll try to do the boring stuff as quickly as possible. But not everyone has been here before like you, so I need to make sure they know how to be safe around the camp. I tell you what,” Charlie said, holding out his hands, “since you’re such an old hand at this, why don’t you come on up here and help me?”

  Davey smiled brightly as his father lifted him up onto the railing, and Charlie pulled him to his side, keeping his arm around his waist to prevent him from falling.

  “Okay, now that me and Davey are ready,” Charlie began, “I’m Charlie Cooper, and I would like to welcome you all to Camp Aisling. Aisling means vision in Gaelic, and I couldn’t think of a more apt name because, although some of us are sightless or partially sighted, none of us will ever be visionless. We can all strive to make our dreams a reality. I’d like us all to start by introducing ourselves by name and telling a little of our story—whether you have always been hard of seeing or how you lost your sight.” He looked at the little boy beside him. “Davey, you wanna start?”

  He nodded eagerly. “I’m Davey, and I’ve been blind four years now. My mom, Judith, and dad, Peter, are here with me and so is my big brother Kevin, who says he’s the best-looking seeing-eye dog anybody ever had.” He chuckled as his brother whooped in response. “I love it here, and I can’t wait to get on the back of a horse and go see those eagle nests again.” He turned his head in Charlie’s direction hopefully and smiled when he felt Charlie’s answering squeeze. One by one, the other four children introduced themselves and their families, and then it was the turn of one of the three older guests.

  “Hi, I’m Kim. I’m twenty-four, and I lost my sight three years ago when I got thrown from my horse,” a slender young woman with a short blonde cap of hair said softly. “A friend of mine came to Camp Aisling last year, and she raved about Charlie and the camp and, of course”—the smile in her voice was audible to everyone—“Sharon’s cobbler. So I decided to check it out for myself. My boyfriend, Chad, is with me this week, and we’re hoping to get me back on a horse, because I’ve been too nervous since the accident.”

  “Don’t you worry, honey,” the blond-haired, blue-eyed man who sat beside her said reassuringly, the love for his girlfriend obvious in his actions as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. Charlie liked him already. “We’ll get you back up on it, won’t we, Davey?”

  “You betcha, Chad.”

  Charlie couldn’t keep the smile from his face, and he nodded at Chad warmly. The man had obviously made a hit with the younger element of the camp already. Raising his eyebrows at his mother, Charlie drawled derisively, “Momma, maybe your new friend would like to introduce himself to the group.”

  “Yes, her new friend would,” Josh replied easily, not missing a beat. “If her son would ask him nicely.”

  Charlie ignored his mother’s hastily swallowed snort of laughter and cleared his throat. “I apologize. Would you like to introduce yourself to the grope? I mean group!” Charlie corrected himself hastily. Where in the hell had that come from?

  Mario coughed loudly and nudged Greg with his knee, both men exchanging a look that Charlie couldn’t miss, even with his limitations.

  “I’d love to,” Josh drawled. “I’m Josh, and I lost my sight eight months ago in a kayaking accident. I’m here with my best friends, Mario and his partner, Greg, who are undoubtedly the two biggest rednecks you will ever come across.” He nudged Sharon’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t worry, Sharon; if they start humming the theme from Deliverance, you’ll be safe with
me.”

  “Oh, you,” Sharon cooed, smiling widely at the young man beside her. Turning her gaze on her embarrassed son, she dropped him a very obvious wink.

  God, please save me from matchmaking mothers, he thought to himself before turning to the last camper to introduce herself. “And you are?” He watched as the older brunette seated beside the young redhead nudged her arm to indicate that Charlie was speaking to her.

  “Pissed off and would rather be anywhere else but here listening to the irritating platitudes of some do-gooder mountain guide, who couldn’t possibly understand what any of us have been through or are going through,” she replied, her tone cold and abrasive.

  “Sophia!” the woman, obviously her mother, hissed, blushing at her daughter’s rudeness.

  “It’s okay,” Charlie said, smiling at Sophia’s mother. Turning his attention to Sophia, he began to speak softly. “I noticed the first clouds across my vision six years ago. Cataracts, the doctor said, and I had surgery to have them removed. Everything was fine until they returned, eight months later. Another surgery followed, then another and another. So here we are, eight surgeries later, the last one just eight weeks ago, which was pronounced a success at my six-week checkup.”

  “Good for you,” Sophia bit out, folding her arms across her chest stubbornly.

  “It was,” Charlie agreed. “Until three days ago, when I woke up and I could see clouds. So, yeah, my platitudes may be irritating, but believe me, I do understand exactly what you’re going through, because I’m headed down that road myself.” He waited a few minutes while his words sank in for everyone around him, and then he said quietly, “Would you like to try your introduction again?”

  The young woman kept her arms folded across her chest like a shield, but she nodded begrudgingly. “I’m Sophia. Brain tumor. Benign, but pressing on the optic nerve. Surgery to remove tumor was successful, but it left me blind. This is my mom, Greta.”