“Young man, might I remind you to whom you speak. I understandexactlywhat the will stated—I aided my son in the writing of it—but remember that we are co-guardians of our dear girl, andIam related by blood. This ismyestate.Mygranddaughter. And I do not appreciate being trampled over by a mere boy who used to build mud pies in my flower gardens,Timothy.” A thud accompanied each word, followed by several thumps at the end to punctuate.
Grandmother didn’t need her cane to assist her in walking, but she said it made her feel more comfortable to carry it. No doubt to help her get her points across.
And the fact that she called himTimothy... she must really be in a lather.
“There’s no need for reminders of the past.” The doctor’s voice sounded less on the verge of cracking as he chuckled.
Hearing Dr. G talk with Grandmother was almost like hearing Dad’s voice again. Warm but firm. She let out a sigh and snuggled against the pillows.
The doctor continued. “I apologize, ma’am. I truly do. But you can’t keep her sequestered and bedridden. She needs fresh air. She needs to run around. She’s healthy and robust, but she won’t stay that way if you continue to coddle her for fear of losingheras well.”
No one ever scolded Grandmother. Ever. How would she respond?
He cleared his throat again, and Chaisley listened as the footsteps moved away. Possibly to the window? His voice was deeperand quieter as it spanned the expanse of the room. “We have seen amazing things among the blind. Why won’t you allow her to live? Not just live ... thrive.”
Grandmother huffed. The rustle of one of her lace hankies—no doubt—muffled her sniffs. Amazing how all the sounds were distinguishable now. Her sure, soft footfalls came toward Chaisley. The scent of lilac preceded Grandmother’s hand touching her own. “My dearest, I never wanted you to have to go through any of this. I’m sorry you’ve had to overhear our discussion. But know this—I love you—”
“We both do.” Dr. Grafton’s gentle, firm voice again.
Grandmother cleared her throat. “Would you excuse Grafton and me? I’d like to speak to him downstairs.”
“But ... I want to hear.” Why did her own voice sound so weak and mouse-like? She wanted to tell them that shedidwant to live ... to thrive.
“I’d like to speak to Dr. Grafton alone.” Grandmother’s tone brooked no argument.
She nodded. “Yes, Grandmother. I’ll be fine.” As soon as Dr. Grafton challenged her grandmother something had shifted inside her.
The pain from her injuries had overshadowed every part of her life but her grief for many weeks. And her body had been so very tired. Then her other senses often became overwhelmed as they took up the slack from her loss of sight.
But to hear him say that she was healing and could live her life encouraged her more than she dared imagine. Today was the first day she had any gumption to do anything other than what she was told.
She wanted to live. Oh, how she desired it!
But the world was a scary place in the dark. Her room was safe. Her bed her little cocoon of comfort.
Tears pricked her eyes.“Be brave, my little munchkin ... Godwill always be with you.”How could she be brave? She couldn’t see. ... Her parents were gone....
“Be brave...”Father’s words echoed in her head. Whenever she faced something new, he’d say the same phrase. She could hear his voice, clear and strong in her mind. Oh, she never wanted to forget his voice.
A surge of warmth rushed through her body. Shewouldbe brave. For Mother and Father.
But as soon as the feeling came, it left.
How could she be brave? She was scared. Helpless. A little blind orphan girl...
The tears returned in earnest. For weeks, she’d battled the dark and the nightmares that accompanied it. Days passed in a sludge of smothering unknowns. What would she do without her parents? What would she do without her sight?
And what would happen to the music that multiplied and grew inside her each day?
Mary Beth Brigman,the teacher Dr. G had brought in twenty-two days ago, coached her down the steps. “You’re doing splendidly, young lady. You’ve just about mastered every area of the house without any aid.”
At the bottom of the grand staircase, the coolness of the marble floor seeped through Chaisley’s thin ballet slippers and she bounced on the balls of her feet at the praise. She knew every inch of her home now, and not just by counting her steps or touching the walls with her hands and floors with her feet. No. Each room had its own sound. Its own pitch. Its own smell and feel. And in her mind, notes played across the musical staff in a different melody for each one.
Mary Beth engulfed her in a hug. “I’m so proud of you, little miss. It’s barely been three weeks since we started and you amazeme every day. I’ll go fetch your grandmother so you can show her. You head on back up the staircase.”
She nodded, unable to contain a smile. Though her guardians had indeed gone to battle over her recovery, Dr. G had won, and the very next day Mary Beth arrived with a long stick. The walking stick was great for their walks outdoors and helped her to navigate unknown surroundings, but she didn’t like to be hindered by it inside. She’d much rather skip and jump and glide through her own home. Each day, she felt a little stronger. A little braver. A little more alive.
As she turned for the stairs, a strange sensation tugged at her. Melodies and harmonies and symphonies burst into her mind. Notes from the lowest of basses to the highest of trebles.
