When he climbed into her lap and rested his cheek against her breast, Jenna laid her cheek on top of his head, inhaled his sweet after-bath scent, absorbed his warmth and turned her thoughts to another baby boy. The one who had recently been little more to her than a voice on the phone, a precious “I love you, Mommy,” to carry her through the lonely days and nights. The gift that kept her going. And hoping.
“Nothing like making yourself right at home in the lady’s lap, Sean.”
Devin O’Brien’s voice, Jenna determined. She’d immediately found an affinity with the caring doctor. The jury was still out on the doctor’s hardcase brother. “He’s not bothering me, at all, Devin.”
“That’s because he’s finally tired.”
When Devin lifted Sean from her lap, Jenna wanted to ask him to wait a few more minutes. To give her a little more time to fill her empty arms and heart. She slid her glasses back into place, this time to hide the threatening tears. “May I go home now?”
“You’re going to stay here with me tonight.”
Logan’s commanding voice made Jenna bristle. “That’s not necessary.”
“Doctor’s orders,” Devin added in a more even tone. “Logan told me you’d be spending the night alone, and we’d both feel better if you had some company, in case you have any problems from the injury.”
Maybe Devin would feel better, but Jenna doubted Logan shared that opinion. He probably wished she’d never had the bouncer call for a driver. Frankly, she wished she’d called a cab, which she could still do now.
She took a moment to weigh her options, all two of them. She could insist on going home and hope for the best, or stay and know someone would be there if she did suffer latent effects from the fall. She’d fought hard to maintain as much independence as possible, but under the current circumstances, she had no choice but to give up some of that hard-won freedom. The price she had to pay for taking a foolish risk. “Okay, I’ll stay.”
“Good,” Devin said. “And you don’t have to worry about Logan. He has a guest room upstairs, and he’s a decent guy. Although, I’m much better looking.”
“And married, Dev. Now, go home to your wife.”
Logan’s tone held a touch of amusement, something he evidently reserved for family members only, Jenna decided. He certainly hadn’t sounded the least bit amused since the moment he’d become her reluctant escort. “Thanks for everything, Devin.”
“You’re welcome. Tell Jenna good-night, Sean.”
“Night, night,” came the childlike voice, followed by a soft baby kiss on her cheek, filling Jenna with more yearning and more memories. “Good night, sweetie. Sleep tight.”
She listened with longing to Sean’s toddler babble and the brotherly banter as the trio left the room. But when she heard the final goodbyes and the closing door in the distance, she was overcome with a solid case of jitters.
Logan O’Brien made her nervous, and it wasn’t due to his imposing height; she was much shorter than most men. It wasn’t even the edge in his voice, or his stoic demeanor. His overt, man-in-control attitude made her wary. Many a woman might be drawn to that take-charge aura, but she didn’t intend to count herself among them.
“We need to talk.”
The deep timbre of Logan’s voice startled Jenna, causing her hand to flutter to her throat. “I didn’t realize you were back.”
She heard the scrape of furniture immediately before Logan came somewhat into view. “I’m right here. Now, explain to me why you didn’t tell me you can’t see.”
Logan O’Brien pulled no punches, and normally Jenna would find that refreshing. But not necessarily in this instance. “I don’t usually greet strangers with ‘Hi, my name’s Jenna Fordyce. I’m as blind as that proverbial bat.’”
“That only accounts for our initial meeting, not for the rest of the time we’ve been together,” he said. “Try again.”
She wasn’t certain how to explain, aside from handing him the truth. “Tonight was the first time I’ve been out of the house for months, socially speaking. I wanted to be viewed as normal, and spared the usual pity.” At least for a while.
“How long have you been this way?”
“A total recluse or a sassy pants, as my mother used to say?” Before her mother had been taken from her, when Jenna had just turned thirteen.
He released an impatient sigh. “How long have you had problems with your vision?”
Longer than she cared to recall. “I was diagnosed with a form of corneal dystrophy when I was in my early teens. At first, it wasn’t too bad, aside from the eye infections, but I’ve always known it would continue to progress.”
“Exactly how much can you see?”
“Not much. It’s a little like looking through shattered, cloudy glass. Everything’s distorted. I can see shapes, but no real details. Or I can when I’m not wearing sunglasses.”
He reached up and pulled the shades away, something Jenna preferred he hadn’t done. Since Devin had dimmed the lights earlier, she wasn’t too concerned over her photosensitivity. She was worried about how her eyes would appear to him.
“Can you see me better now?” he asked.
“I can tell you’re sitting in front of me, but that’s about it.”
“And there’s not one damn procedure in this day and time that will help you?”
He sounded as frustrated as Jenna often felt, and she found that remarkable, coming from a man she’d just met. “A corneal transplant is the only cure.”
“And that involves finding a donor,” he said.
“Yes. I’ve been waiting over a year. Of course, if it were up to my father, he’d try to buy a set of corneas. Or at the very least, wield his influence to have me moved up on the list.”
“But you won’t let him.”
She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be fair. I’ve spent a good deal of my life as a sighted person when there are people waiting who’ve never had that advantage. Some are even children. They should be first in line.”
“That’s an admirable attitude.”
She shifted slightly. “Before you start thinking I’m ready for sainthood, you have to understand that having a transplant isn’t something I take lightly. Sometimes it scares me to think about it. But I’m willing to wait.” Wait for someone to die in order to see, a fact Jenna tried not to dwell on. If she had only herself to consider, she would accept her limitations and forget the procedure. She’d use her cane all the time and consider finding a guide dog. But she had a three-and-a-half-year-old son counting on her, even if several hundred miles had separated them for the past few months.
“If you have the transplant, your vision will be restored completely?” Logan asked.
“That’s what I’m hoping.” Although, she would also be facing possible tissue rejection and the chance that the disease could return in a few years’ time following the transplant.
“That’s got to be tough. I can’t imagine not being able to see.”
“I’ve learned to compensate by thinking about what I’ll do when I can see again.” Being able to care for her child was top priority. “In the meantime, I have to rely on developing mental portraits using other senses. I’ll demonstrate, if you’ll let me touch you.”
“Oh, yeah?” She could hear the