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Chapter Five
Whit started to walk away from yet anotherOphthalmologistwho’d refused to take him as a patient. “Your eyes are badly damaged, Mr. Hart. You need to let them heal longer than a few weeks. It could take months before we’d be able to tell if surgery will correct the problems.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. In the meantime, use these drops and come back in two weeks.”
The doctor grinned at the sarcasm. “Right. I forgot. I’m not your first choice, am I?”
“Christ, no. I’ve been to three other specialists, and they all say the same as you. Give your eyes time. Wait.” Frustrated truth rang in his words. “Doc, you gotta know, I’m not good at waiting. I’m good at dealing with things now. I need to get back home to Alaska. The winter is setting in and there’re folks who need me.”
“Hey, man. Go back home if you must. Just be careful. Don’t drive and don’t go anywhere alone. You have enough peripheral vision to get around without a cane or a guide dog. And these drops aren’t like the ones you used previously. They will help. Trust me.”
“Right. And come back in two or three weeks.”
“No. If you don’t go home, come back in a week. I want to follow up on your case closely. Deal?”
Whit sensed that this doctor really did give a shit about him… about his problem. And so he agreed. Fact was, he’d run out of new doctors to go to and beg for instant treatment to restore his vision.
When he’d first realized his world had turned black, he’d panicked. Glen and his crew had taken him to the hospital in Ketchikan and they told him his eyes had been seared and would mend on their own. Over the next few days, they had recovered some but nowhere near perfect. He had a slight bit of peripheral vision in both eyes and his right side had gotten a bit stronger where he saw movement and shades of light and dark.
Unable to stand the thought of returning before checking every possible avenue of hope, he’d bulldozed Glen at a vulnerable moment and extracted a promise he knew the kid hated to give. “No. Don’t argue. I’d rather them believe I’m still missing than go back like this.”
“You’re being selfish, man. No one cares if your eyesight isn’t perfect. We’ll help you. But having to lie to everyone, especially Demi, and say you’re lost, well I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Then tell her I died. Whatever it takes. Give me the time I need to figure this out without others interfering. I’m begging you.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking. I might have been a drunk and a lazy bastard, but I never did learn the art of lying. She’ll see right through me.”
Whit wanted this badly, needed Glen to be on his side… to see his point of view and promise. He grabbed at Glen’s shirt and hauled him close. “Please, kid. I’m only asking for time. Just give me that.” When he heard the desperate tone in his voice, he knew he’d gotten through.
With a moan, and his voice unsteady, Glen finally promised. “Fine. But if you don’t keep in touch, I’ll tell.”
“Deal. I’ll send you a text every week. I’ll use my business account called Alaska Gold Prospecting.” He shook Glen’s hand and smiled for the first time in ages, the skin on his face feeling tight from the scars still not healed.
This morning, in Miami, at the number one ophthalmology center, he had to stop his search and accept the diagnosis. According to the doctor, he had to back off and give his eyes the time they deserved. As much as he wanted his life back, it wasn’t to be. Not yet. And if he did as he was told, maybe soon he could go back home… maybe.
He returned to his hotel room and opened his laptop. As he’d done a hundred times before, using a digital magnifier, he reread the messages Glen had sent in return to his own short weekly comments.
No doubt about it, Glen’s notes made him laugh, lifting his black mood every time. Not only because of the poor grammar, run-on sentences, and misspelled words, but his topics were hysterical. From what he read, it seems that Demi saved a vicis wulf who atacs them all the time and a kity who neds fod evey 2 hrs. The snoe cam and they survivd ok. Can I tel Demy now?
His answer took forever to write, and he used as few words as possible. “Glad everything is good. Hope Demi’s new dog behaves. Saw another specialist. Now there’s hope for an operation. Don’t tell her yet. Need more time.”
Chapter Six
Demi loved having Glen home. Shared chores were done quicker, and the work seemed that much easier. All the snow that fell the day he’d returned had melted by the next afternoon.
That window of good weather gave them the opportunity to get their winter tires put on, something that Glen seemed adamant about. The lack of snow also galvanized Glen into deciding that they needed to get a few more loads of gravel for their road into the cabin.
“You have no idea how treacherous snowy weather can be for driving, but if there’s a good gravel foundation, it’ll help get us as far as the highway. They keep the main roads plowed, so if need be, we’ll be able to get into town.”
They were almost the exact comments Whit had made the day before he’d left. Not that she didn’t trust Glen, and common sense, but knowing Whit would be on board made it a must-do for her.
And so they’d hired the gravel truck to make numerous hauls as they leveled out the rock across the worst potholes themselves. It was backbreaking work but at least the sun had taken a break for a few days and the overcast conditions helped.
During this time, Demi often carried her feline baby in her homemade scarf sling. The little one settled nicely inside her soft dwelling and Demi’s constant movements didn’t appear to affect the kitten’s sleep.
As they worked, she saw how much stronger Glen appeared. It seems her cooking had filled him out and the constant work helped build muscles. It was time for her to cut his hair again as he’d been forced to gather it in a ponytail this morning to keep it out of his face.
What brought her attention to his improvement had been the interested stare she’d caught from Rudy, one of the young truck drivers. Hmmm, seems like her new ahhbrotherhad an admirer.
