Blue Skies

  “No. I need to do it myself. It’s only a number pad, for heaven’s sake. I know the layout by heart, but now that I can see, it seems backward.”

  “It’s a whole new ball game now,” Bess reminded her. “If you need to, just close your eyes.”

  “What about training my visual cortex? You’re always grumping at me about it.”

  “Yeah, well, under the circumstances, I think it’s okay to make an exception.”

  Carly was in no hurry to get Hank on the phone. She persevered, staring at the number pad, trying to correlate the visual images with the number shapes she’d memorized by touch. The digits began to blur, and then the lot of them started jumping around. She closed her eyes and passed the phone to Bess. “Maybe you should do it, after all. I don’t need this right now.”

  “Just calm down. If he gets nasty, it’s no skin off your nose. Right?”

  “Right.”

  Bess began the process of dialing each number and then handing Carly the phone. Midway down the list, Carly finally spoke to an older woman who claimed to be Hank’s mother.

  “I, um—well, I guess you could say I’m an acquaintance of Hank’s,” Carly explained after introducing herself. “And I really need to get in touch with him. Do you have a number where I can reach him?”

  “Have you called the ranch?”

  “I, um—no. Hank mentioned the ranch, but he never told me the name.”

  “That’s strange,” the older woman mused aloud.

  “Yes, well. I guess he just never got around to it.”

  “Normally,” Mrs. Coulter went on to say, “I don’t like to give out contact information over the phone. But if you’re a friend, I’ll make an exception.”

  Carly wasn’t sure she qualified as one of Hank’s friends, but the thought of trying to explain the exact nature of their relationship kept her from correcting that impression. When Mrs. Coulter gave her the number, Carly signaled Bess to jot it down as she repeated the digits.

  “He’ll be outside working yet,” Mrs. Coulter said. “At this time of year, he doesn’t quit until almost dark. That’s his cell phone number I gave you. If he has it turned on, which he generally does, you should be able to get through to him. If not, you can leave him a voice message or call the Lazy J.”

  “The Lazy J. Got it. Thank you, Mrs. Coulter.”

  After Carly broke the connection, Bess quickly dialed the cell phone number before Carly could lose her nerve. Carly groped for Bess’s hand when the phone started to ring. A man with a deep voice answered. “Yo?”

  Carly gulped and said, “Hank?”

  “Yeah, this is Hank.”

  Carly threw Bess a desperate look. “I, um—this is, um, Carly Adams.”

  “Who?”

  A chill moved through Carly. She shut her eyes, scarcely able to believe her ears. For a week and a half, this man’s face had haunted her dreams, and for the last few days, she’d spent more time hugging the toilet than not because of him. Yet he didn’t remember who she was?

  For several awful seconds, she could do nothing but stand there. Then fury pulsed through her in searing waves. She slammed the receiver down in its cradle with such force that the jolt went clear to her elbow.

  “What?” Bess asked. “Oh, God, Carly, what did he say?”

  “ ‘Who?” ’

  Bess’s expression remained uncomprehending. “What?”

  A sob welled in Carly’s chest. “ ‘Who!” ’ she repeated shrilly. “That’s what he said. Who. He doesn’t remember me.”

  All the color drained from Bess’s face. “He what?”

  Carly was seldom given to displays of temper, but the anger building within her demanded release. She picked up the phonebook and threw it across the small living room with all her strength. “He can go stick his head in a lake, for all I care, and I hope he drowns!”

  “Carly, calm down. You’re pregnant, remember. This isn’t good for you or the baby.”

  “Calm. Right.” Carly covered her face with her hands. When she looked at Bess again, she said, “I don’t know why I’m upset. The truth is it suits me just fine.” She took three paces, then whirled back around, jabbing her chest with a finger. “This is my baby, mine and only mine. He just forfeited all rights. I never want to speak to the creep again.”

  Bess followed Carly into the living room. “How could he not remember you, Carly? It’s only been a week and a half.”

  “Because he’s a conceited, self-serving jerk! He came on to me, and then he got me drunk, and then he—he—” Carly sent Bess a miserable look. “It didn’t mean a thing to him, Bess. I wasn’t even a blip on his radar screen.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  Carly held up a hand to ward off another hug. “Don’t. The last thing I need right now is sympathy. Just tell me I was an idiot and that he’s a world-class creep.”

  “If he doesn’t remember you, he’s definitely a creep.”

  “Right.” Carly exhaled in a rush. “I want to forget I ever met him. From this moment forward, my baby has no father. I never want to hear his name again.”

  Carly went to her bedroom, slammed the door, and threw herself down on the bed. Who? Oh, God. She hated him. How could he have sex with a woman and not remember her a little over a week later?

  Hank turned on the overhead lights and stepped into the center aisle of the stable to stare at his cell phone. An awful suspicion slammed into his brain. Carly, Charlie. The two names were very similar, and he’d been pretty damned drunk that night. With all the noise, had he misunderstood her name? As he stood there, mulling it over, he dimly recalled her correcting him on her name at some point during the evening, but he’d been too drunk to care if he got it right. Charlie had worked for his purposes—a one-night stand, ending with a predawn “So long, baby.”

  Damn. Hank didn’t like remembering his mindset that night. He wasn’t sure when he’d come to think of sex as a form of recreation. His parents had raised him better. They would be so disappointed in him if they knew—almost as disappointed as he was in himself.

  He called her number back up on the cell phone window. When the digits appeared, he memorized them, punched them in, and put the phone to his ear as it began to ring. His heart was pounding, and a cold sweat broke out on his body as he waited for Charlie—no, Carly—to answer. It had been almost two weeks since that night. He hadn’t heard a peep out of her in all this time. Why would she suddenly call him?

  Hank had a bad feeling he already knew the answer to that question. It was early on yet for her to know if she was pregnant, but given the unpleasant way their encounter had ended, he couldn’t think of any other reason she might initiate contact.

  She answered the phone almost immediately. He said, “Carly? This is Hank Coulter calling back.” He meant to explain his confusion with the names, but she didn’t give him a chance. “I’m sorry about—”

  “Who?” she asked with biting sarcasm.

  Hank knew he had that coming. “Listen. I know how it must have sounded but—”

  A loud crashing noise cut him dead. Hank swore under his breath and hit redial. This time, her phone rang endlessly. She clearly knew who was calling and refused to answer.

  “Okay, fine,” he said, his voice gravelly with frustration. “You’re pissed. Unless you’ve got Caller ID, I can wait you out and catch you by surprise later.”

  Hank realized he was talking to himself and glanced over his shoulder. One of the mares eyed him curiously as she munched her grain. He entered Carly’s number into the cell phone memory, and then clipped the apparatus over his belt. In an hour or so, when Carly was no longer expecting him to call, he’d try her again.

  “That was Hank calling back, wasn’t it?” Hands at her hips, Bess stood over Carly’s bed.

  “Brilliant deduction. How did you guess?”

  “Why else would you yell at me not to answer when the phone rang a second time? What did he say?”

  “Nothing,” Carly replied. ??
?He didn’t say anything.”

  “He must have said something.”

  “I didn’t give him a chance.” Carly sent her friend a mutinous glare. “I served him up some of his own medicine, hung up before he could say much of anything, and didn’t answer when he tried again. I told you, I never want to speak to him again. And I mean it. I tried to let him know about the baby. I owe him nothing more, and no matter what you say, I won’t change my mind.”

  Bess switched on the bedside lamp. Carly angled an arm over her eyes. “Would you please turn that off?”

  “I want to see your face while we talk. Your eyes will adjust in a minute.”

  “It feels like knives stabbing my pupils.”

  “Don’t look directly at it.” Bess leaned against the wall. “Ah, Carly.”

  “Don’t start lecturing me, Bess. I mean it. He’s a slime ball.”

  “A slime ball that at least tried to return your call. I can understand how you’re feeling, Carls, honestly, and I don’t really blame you. But you know what I think?”

  “No,” Carly said wearily, “but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “I think you should at least talk to the guy. You’re pregnant with his baby. If he’s willing to help you out financially, you’d be insane to pass on the offer.”

  “Help me out financially?” Carly couldn’t believe Bess was suggesting such a thing. “I didn’t call him hoping he’d offer me money. Is that why you were so bent on it—because you figured he’d cough up some cash?”

  Bess lifted her hands. “It is his child. My answer to that isn’t just yes, but hell, yes.”

  “I don’t take handouts.”

  “You’ve taken special grants for school. How is this so different?”

  Carly jackknifed to a sitting position. “How is it different? Grants are funded by governmental agencies and the private sector. There are grants for research, grants for the disadvantaged, grants for single mothers, and grants for the disabled, to name only a few. I qualified for the help. When I applied, my file was one of hundreds, probably thousands. There was nothing personal about it. It’s not the same as begging for a handout—or holding a mistake over some guy’s head and making him pay through the nose for the next twenty-one years.”

  “It’s okay for you to suffer for the mistake, but he gets off scot-free? Is that how it goes? That doesn’t strike me as being very equitable.”

  “You’re not the one who’s pregnant. It’s not your call to make.”

  Bess crossed her arms. “So you’ll accept my help, but not his.”

  “You’re my friend. If you ever need me, I’ll try to be there for you, too. This isn’t the same. Surely you can see that. I don’t want Hank Coulter’s money. I’d feel like a charity case. Besides, say he offered and I accepted? That would give him rights I’d prefer he not have.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as—I don’t know. I’d just feel beholden, that’s all. I don’t want to see him again, Bess. Can’t you understand? Every time I think about that night, I want to die.”

  Bess scuffed the toe of her shoe over the carpet. “Carly, unless he has a below average IQ, don’t you think he has some idea why you might have called? He’s going to think about it and put two and two together. When he comes up with four, he’ll try to find you if he’s got a shred of decency.”

  “A shred of decency? You’re crediting him with decency?” Carly flopped back on the bed. “He cursed at me when he realized I was a virgin. He didn’t care that he’d hurt me. He just jerked away, cursed, and passed out. Now, a little over a week later, he didn’t remember me? Don’t talk to me about decency.” Carly pulled the pillow over her face to block out the light. “I can’t talk about this anymore. My head is killing me.”

  She heard Bess turn off the lamp. “You want your drops?”

  “No, not yet. They’re expensive. I’ll wait to see if my eyes stop hurting on their own first.”

  “You need your drops, but they’re expensive, so you’re going to suffer instead of using them? Whether you accept Hank’s money or not, he’ll still have rights, Carly. Sooner or later, he may demand to see his child. What’re you going to do then? Tell him no?”

  Carly pulled the pillow tighter over her face. “I’d never do that. If he’s smart enough to figure it out, and if he finds me, and if he gives a damn, I’ll let him see his child. Just don’t hold your breath waiting for it to happen. He’s a jerk, I tell you. Jerks couldn’t care less about exercising their visitation rights, and they don’t particularly care if their children are provided for.”

  Carly listened as Bess left the room. When she was alone, she rolled onto her side and hugged her knees. Who? Every time she remembered Hank’s saying that, she grew so furious she trembled. Even worse, it hurt more than she cared to admit, even to herself.

  Hank kept his cell phone turned on all evening, wondering how Carly had gotten the number. He gave it out to very few people, and he knew damned well he’d never given it to her.

  At ten, Hank said goodnight to Jake and Molly, then went up the log staircase to his bedroom to try calling Carly again. A woman with a deeper voice answered midway through the first ring, giving him the impression she’d been hovering near the phone. Hank knew it wasn’t Carly. Earlier in the evening, her voice had been soft and tremulous. This gal sounded like a Marine Corps sergeant.

  “I, um—” Taken off guard, Hank couldn’t think of what to say. “This is Hank Coulter. Is Carly there?”

  Long silence. Then the woman said, “She’s asleep right now.”

  Hank figured this must be Carly’s friend. She sounded like a ball buster. “Would you please tell her I called? It’s extremely important that I speak to her.”

  Hank half expected the woman to hang up in his ear as Carly had done. Instead, she said, “This is Bess, Carly’s roommate.”

  “Ah. Glad to make your acquaintance, Bess.”

  “Somehow I doubt that. And I seriously doubt that you’ve got any idea just how important it is that you speak to Carly.”

  Hank’s stomach clenched, and icy foreboding moved through him again.

  “Unfortunately,” Bess went on, “you blew your chance. She’ll never get in touch with you now. She only tried to begin with because she felt obligated to let you know. And then you didn’t remember who she was. Tell me, Mr. Coulter, do you deflower so many virgins in the back of your truck you can’t keep them straight?”

  Hank sank onto the edge of the bed. He couldn’t dredge up the indignation to defend himself.

  “Carly is pregnant.” Bess’s whiskey voice quivered with anger. “That is your fault and, by extension, mine. I never should have taken her to that bar in the first place, and I sure as hell shouldn’t have left her alone so some predatory creep could home in on her.”

  Hank wanted to say he wasn’t a predatory creep, but the truth was that he’d come to see a lot of things differently since that night, and Bess was essentially correct. He’d gone to Chaps to have fun and end the evening with an accommodating female, no strings attached. For reasons beyond him, Carly had happened onto his hunting grounds.

  “I didn’t realize,” he said. “If I’d known she was a virgin, I never would have touched her, I swear, but she didn’t send out those kinds of signals.”

  “Maybe you were just so drunk, you weren’t reading her signals very well.”

  Hank clutched the phone with such force his fist ached. Memories flashed through his mind—Carly, sipping the drink and wrinkling her nose; Carly, resisting momentarily when he waltzed her outside; Carly, uncertain where to put her hands when he kissed her. Bess was right. He hadn’t been reading her signals very well.

  Bess sighed as if the anger had drained her. In a hollow, sad voice, she said, “To make matters worse, Mr. Coulter, Carly wasn’t just any virgin. She was born blind with congenital cataracts and recurring lattice dystrophy. She had surgery to restore her sight only two and a half weeks ago, a mere week befor
e you met her. Do you have any idea what that means?”

  Hank felt as if the mattress had suddenly vanished from under him. “Blind, did you say? I’m sorry. You blew my mind clear off track. Cataracts and what kind of dystrophy?”

  “Lattice. It hardens and cracks the surface of the corneas. In severe cases like Carly’s, it causes blindness. The only solution is to scrape the surface of her corneas or do a corneal transplant. Carly had her first superficial keratectomy a week before you met her.”

  Hank didn’t want to hear this. He really, really didn’t want to hear this.

  “Right now, her visual cortex is like that of a newborn baby,” Bess continued. “That’s the part of the brain where visual images are recorded as memories, for want of a more scientific explanation. When we’re born, the visual cortex is blank. Because she was born blind, Carly’s has remained blank. Now that she can finally see, she’s struggling to learn her colors, to visually recognize numbers and letters, familiarize herself with the world around her, and getting terrific headaches from the ceaseless onslaught of stimulation. Now, thanks to you, she can’t even take pain medication because she’s pregnant.”

  Hank swallowed, hard. He felt sick to his stomach.

  “The night you met Carly, she’d gone with me to Chaps to sit at a table and simply watch. She’d never seen people dance, and the few men she’d ever seen had been at a distance. When you started coming on to her, she actually believed all your hokey lines.” Bess made a sound of frustration. “Oh, she says now that she actually didn’t, that she just went with the moment, knowing deep down that it was all a bunch of blarney. But I’ve known her all her life. On some level, she believed every miserable lie you told her. Otherwise, she never would have gotten in the truck with you.”

  Hank’s heart gave a painful twist. Oh, God. He remembered wondering if Carly were fresh out of a convent or something. He hadn’t realized at the time how close he was to guessing the truth. He’d been one of the first men she’d ever seen at close range? His own voice rang in his memory. You’re so damned beautiful. When I first saw you, my heart damned near stopped beating. Where have you been hiding all my life, darlin’? He’d come on like a high wind.