"Carter, for God's sake, would you hurry up?"
I smiled into the bathroom mirror as I pulled on one of his shirts. "Keep your pants on."
"If you don't hurry the fuck up, I'll be keeping them on," Isaac called back to me from down the hall. "Permanently."
I snorted. "Well, if I had my own clothes here…" I trailed off, waiting for him to bite back, knowing this conversation – one we'd had many times – annoyed him.
"I'll go start the car," I heard him mumble, and I laughed. Then the front door closed.
Shit.
"Isaac!" I stumbled out of the bathroom door, hopping on one foot, trying to put on my shoe, trying to stop him from getting in behind the steering wheel and starting my car. I almost fell down the hall, with my shoe half on and my jeans undone, to find Isaac still standing inside at the front door.
Looking gorgeous in his pricey jeans, expensive shirt and tight-fitted, designer sunglasses, the self-righteous bastard smiled. "Thought that might get your attention."
Standing up straight, wedging my foot into my shoe and doing up the fly on my jeans, I looked at my boyfriend. My blind boyfriend. Then I looked at the golden Labrador at his feet, his guide dog. "Well, Brady," I said to the dog. "It seems Isaac thinks he's funny."
Isaac grinned, smugly. "Are you finally ready?" he asked, again. He held out my wallet and keys. "You know my sister doesn't have a baby every day, Carter. I'd like to get to the hospital some time before my niece starts middle school."
Instead of taking my wallet and keys, I took his face in my hands and kissed him. "Shut up and get in the car."
By the time we had Brady harnessed into the backseat and were on our way to Carney Hospital, he was still complaining. "Seriously, Carter. How long should it take?"
"I was at work," I said, again. "I had to get changed! I could hardly turn up in my work clothes." Spending my days as a vet, tending to an array of animals, didn't make for clean work clothes. I changed gears and weaved through some traffic, looking from the cars in front of me to Isaac. "You know, if I had my own clothes at your place, it wouldn't take so long. I wouldn't have to go through your wardrobe to find clothes that fit me."
Isaac sighed dramatically. "Haven't we had this conversation?"
Yes. Yes, we had. But he didn't want me to move in with him. At all. It had stung when he'd first told me he didn't want me to live with him. I'd brought it up, considering we'd been together for a year, thinking it was the next step for us, thinking it was what he'd want. But he didn't. He liked his independence, he'd said. He liked things just the way they were. He didn't want us to be in each other's pockets, he'd said. It hurt to know he didn't want me to move in, but since then, the subject had now become a bit of a joke between us.
Usually, I'd make a joke of it and he'd sigh or change the subject. Or tickle me. Or throw something at me.
"Yes, we have had this conversation before."
"And how long are we going to continue to have it?"
"Until you agree for me to move in."
"So a long while, then?"
I chuckled and shook my head. "Apparently." I reached over the console and took his hand. "What time did you get the call about Hannah?"
"Carlos phoned me at work this morning to say she'd gone into labor, but not to hurry, because they thought it'd be hours," he said. "But then he called me again after lunch to tell me it was all over."
I looked at the clock on the dash, and like he could see what I'd just done, he added, "That was over an hour ago."
I knew he was anxious. His sister meant the world to him, and the new addition to the Brannigan clan was the best news they'd had in a long time. I lifted our joined hands and kissed his knuckles.
"I did leave work four hours early. I got to your place as fast as I could."
He sighed again, and squeezed my hand. "It's okay. The bus took forever anyway."
"Why won't you let me drive you to work?"
"Because you don't need to be driving out of your way for me, when you live five minutes from your work," he said. "And I'm a big boy. I can catch the bus to work if I want to."
I looked at the man in the passenger seat beside me, at his dark brown hair, his chiseled jaw and trademark Armani sunglasses. The beautiful, stubborn, completely infuriating man. "It's hardly out of my way. It'd take me twenty minutes tops," I started, but he cut me off.
"Carter," he said sternly, in that I-can't-believe-I-have-to-say-this-out-loud tone he gets when he thinks he's stating the obvious. "Brady and I are just fine on the bus, thank you."
I held in a sigh and bit back the exasperated comment that threatened to snap at him. You'd think after being together for over twelve months I'd be used to it by now. But no, I wasn't really. I wasn't often offended by his snide comments anymore, but the frustration still weighed in.
Dropping any conversation pertaining to how independent he was, I asked, "So did Carlos tell you what they called the baby?"
"No," he shook his head and smiled softly. "Just that mother and daughter were doing well."
When I pulled the car over and to a stop, Isaac turned his face toward to me. "Why did we stop? We haven't been driving for long enough to be at the hospital. Carter, what the hell are you doing? We're late enough!"
I waited for his little tirade to be over. "I'm aware of that, Isaac," I said slowly. "I stopped at a florist so we could bring Hannah some flowers. Is that okay?"
Isaac sighed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I just saw it and decided it was a good idea."
He sighed. "Just don't take long."
"Wouldn't dream of it." I rolled my eyes dramatically, though that silent trait was lost on him. Two minutes later, I opened the passenger door of the Jeep and handed Isaac the ridiculously overpriced teddy bear and bouquet of pink flowers with matching balloon. He pulled his face back in surprise, so I kissed his cheek. "Now you can't say I've never given you flowers."
I got back in behind the wheel and Isaac was smelling the flowers. After I'd pulled the Jeep out into traffic and we were nearly at the hospital, he said, "You haven't, you know."
"I haven't what?"
"Given me flowers."
I looked from him to the traffic in front of us, back to him, trying to decide if he was serious… I mean, no, I'd never brought him flowers, but I was trying to decide if he cared. "Would you like me to? Bring you flowers?"
"Not if I have to ask you for them."
"Then I shall bring you flowers." I chuckled, and shook my head. "When you don't expect it."
"Well now you've mentioned it, I'll be expecting it."
I sighed out a laugh. "Will I ever win an argument?"
Isaac smiled. "Not if I'm the one you're arguing with."
I laughed as I drove my Jeep into the parking lot of the hospital. Pulling into a spot, I turned the ignition off. "Well, come on. Let's go meet the newest Brannigan."
Isaac grinned and got out, holding the teddy bear and flowers, while I unhooked Brady's harness. I gave the dog a good ruffle on the forehead and he grinned, with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. As soon as he was free, he went to Isaac's side of the Jeep and waited patiently for Isaac to click him into his harness.
It was a routine we'd done hundreds of times. Me driving, Isaac in the passenger seat, dogs in the back. My dog, a Border Collie called Missy, normally shared the backseat with Brady, but not today. Brady was on his own.
A beautiful dog for a beautiful man.
I walked around the car and took the flowers and bear, so Isaac could hook up Brady. When he was done, I said, "Come on, the maternity ward is this way," taking his hand and leading the way.
As we walked across the courtyard, I remembered the last time I was at this hospital. I'd come to pick Isaac up and take him home. He'd decided to do some trail hiking by himself on a remote path, with Brady of course, and slid down an embankment, spending a cold winter night outside. What started out as a foolish exercise to test his relationship with his guide dog—and to prove a point to me—ended up being a humbling reality check. The upside to him nearly freezing to death that night, was that he learned to appreciate what a marvelous dog Brady is.
The barriers Isaac put up to protect himself were coming down, little by little. There was still the occasional defensive remark aimed at the heart, or pride of those around him, but for the most part, he was finally starting to allow himself love; to love those around him, and more importantly, allow himself to be loved.
And coming back here, to the same hospital he was admitted to after his overnight ordeal, was a little ironic. That ordeal was like the ending of one part of his life, and now coming back here to see his brand new niece was like a new beginning.
As we walked into the building, Isaac wrinkled his nose. "Never thought I'd be happy to be back here."
"I was just thinking the same thing."
"Ugh, the smell is disgusting."
I know his sense of smell was more heightened than mine, but I had to agree. "Yep, it is."
We approached the nurse's station, and just as the nurse opened her mouth to speak to us, Isaac said, "Dear God. It smells like old food, dirty laundry and cheap disinfectant."
Her mouth fell open and I smiled at the rather alarmed, probably offended nurse. "Good afternoon," I greeted her cheerfully. "We're here to see Hannah Brannigan-Peroni and Carlos Peroni. They had a little baby girl today."
"Room twelve," she replied. She looked at me, the flowers in my hand, then to Isaac, then to Brady and back to me and smiled. "Down the hall, turn right."
I was used to Isaac saying things in front of others that could be construed as rude – whether on purpose or not – but upon seeing he was blind, they quickly forgave any indiscretions. Part of me thought that was the very reason he did it, either that or he simply didn't give a shit.
With Isaac, either scenario was likely.
After a squeeze of his hand and a quiet 'this way', we headed down the hall. I walked into the room first, knocking gently on the door. "Up for visitors?"
"Oh, hey," came Hannah's soft reply. "Please, come in."
Hannah was lying on the bed, Carlos sitting in the chair beside her, and a tiny little bundle of pink blankets in a crib next to them. Isaac's sister looked tired, but she smiled brightly when we walked in. I walked over to the bed, leading Isaac. I held up the flowers, teddy bear and balloon proudly, like I'd made it myself, and put it on the side dresser. I kissed Hannah and whispered, "Congratulations," then stood aside, giving Isaac room to be with his sister.
He felt along the bed for her. She reached out, taking his arm, and they embraced for a long time. I moved to the other side of the bed, shook Carlos's hand, offering my congratulations, then peeked in at the tiny bundle of pink.
I looked over to Isaac, but he was still hugging Hannah and almost whispering in her ear with his hands on her face. "I'm so proud of you," he told her.
Poor Hannah started to cry. Happy tears, of course, but tears all the same. She swatted his arm, but then kissed his cheek. "Did you want to have a hold of her, Uncle Isaac?"
He gasped quietly. "Oh, I um… I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Nonsense," Hannah said flatly. "Carter, bring over one of those chairs," she pointed to the chairs along the wall, under the TV. I did as instructed, and once Isaac was seated, Hannah asked, "Carlos, honey, could you please…" she waved her hand from the crib to Isaac, "…do the honors."
Carlos gently picked up the bundle of blankets, and like he was carrying the most precious gift in the world, he handed his newborn baby to Isaac. Isaac took the baby in his left arm, holding her close to his chest, and with his right hand, ever so gently traced his fingertips along the edge of the blanket and across the sleeping baby's cheek. He skimmed lightly across her forehead, down to her tiny button nose.
Without looking up, he asked, "What's her name?"
Hannah took a moment. "Ada."
Isaac gasped quietly, but he nodded. "It's perfect," he murmured. It took me a second to realize he was crying, before he took his sunglasses off and wiped at his tears. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I don't know why I'm crying."
I knelt beside him and kissed the side of his face. "Don't apologize."
He turned his face to mine. His sky-blue, unseeing eyes and wet lashes were beautiful. He spoke quietly. "Ada was our mother's name." He leaned down and kissed the sleeping newborn baby. "Is she beautiful?"
I looked at little Ada. "Isaac, she's perfect."
He nodded again, and fresh tears filled his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again and whatever was on his mind remained unsaid.
I looked at Hannah, to find her wiping her eyes. She shrugged and smiled. "I don't need a reason to cry, I'm a hormonal train wreck."
Carlos kissed her forehead then he smiled at me. "Hannah's a trooper. My God, she went through hell today. Swore like a sailor, threatened the medical staff with physical bodily harm, and she's never been more amazing."
I smiled at him and how adoringly he looked at his wife. And when I looked back at Isaac, he was utterly engrossed in Ada.
"She smells unlike anything I've ever smelled," he said quietly, in awe at the little human in his arms.
Then Ada started to wake and fuss, making a tiny squeaking sound. "Oh!" Isaac's face shot up. "What happened? What did I do? Is she okay?"
I grinned. "She's waking up, that's all," I reassured him. "I think she wants her mommy."
"Oh," he mumbled. "Carter, can you take her?"
Shit. "Sure!" I replied quickly. "Here, I'll hand her to Hannah." I took Ada carefully, all seven tiny pounds of her, not really sure how to hold her. "I've held lots of newborns," I told them. "Granted, they were all four-legged."
Hannah chuckled as she took her new daughter. "We should go," I told her. "You look tired, Hannah. We can come back tomorrow." I kissed the top of her head. "You did real good. She's beautiful."
When I turned to Isaac, he was fiddling nervously with Brady's collar. Following my line of sight, Hannah looked over to him. She frowned and asked, "Isaac honey, you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine," he answered a little too brightly.
She looked at me and rolled her eyes. "Have you been getting to and from work okay?"
"Yeah, that's all fine," he told her. "And the groceries have been delivered just fine, there's still a freezer full of your cooking. You've got your hands full now. Don't you worry about me."
Hannah looked at me and shook her head, but she answered him. "Okay, just let me know if you need anything."
Not only was Hannah his sister, she was also his official caregiver. So while she has some time off adjusting to being a new mom, Isaac was doing it all on his own. He'd flat out refused a stand-in caregiver, so Hannah had prepared, cooked and frozen a lot of dinners, she'd organized fresh bread and milk, fruit and vegetables to be delivered every few days, and he had to get himself to and from work on the bus.
Of course I offered to help in each and every one of these aspects, but was promptly shot down. Isaac was blind, yes. But he was also independent, and very, very stubborn.
If anyone did anything for him without him asking, such as suggest driving him to and from work, or do the laundry, or cook dinner, they'd have their head ripped off and handed to them. Or so I found out.
I did help him a little, but in the last two weeks since Hannah was bedridden in later pregnancy and was unable to work, he'd been doing just fine. Hannah had planned to take four weeks or so off after the arrival of the baby, but had planned to at least start driving him to and from work as soon as possible. She hated that he had to catch a bus. He could have taken a cab every day, but declared the waiting in Boston morning traffic with a meter running was just wasting money.
Not that that should have bothered him. He had plenty.
But Isaac was Isaac. Proud, stubborn, gorgeous, and utterly amazing. It wasn’t about wasting money. It was about proving his independence.
He stood up and pulled gently on Brady's harness. I walked over to him and took his free hand. "You okay?" I asked him quietly.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"We'll come back tomorrow, okay?"
"Sure."
After we'd said goodbye and were walking back to the car, I told him, "I know you wanted to stay, but Hannah needed to feed little Ada, then try and get some sleep. I figured being so new to breastfeeding, she wouldn't want an audience. She looked really tired."
"Yeah, I guess," he said. His disappointment was palpable.
I squeezed his hand. "We'll come back tomorrow."
He nodded, and was quiet on the way back to his house. It was obvious he was upset, and knowing him as well as I did, I knew not to push him.
He'd say what was on his mind if I gave him time.
It didn't take long. We were having dinner, and after he'd pushed his food around his plate for long enough, he put down his fork. "Can you describe her for me?"
Describe her? "Ada?"
He nodded sadly.
Oh, Isaac.
"I couldn't see much," I told him honestly. "She was more blankets than baby. But she had dark hair, pale skin and a cute little button nose."
He nodded and sighed. "She smelled gorgeous."
"She is gorgeous. But her looks will change almost every day," I told him. "I'll fill you in on how she looks tomorrow."
I thought he'd at least smile, but he didn't. I picked up our plates and took them to the sink, and when he didn't follow, I walked back and took his hand, pulling him to his feet. I wrapped my arms around him. "Isaac, baby, you okay?"
He shrugged.
"Isaac?"
He sighed into my chest. "I've been blind for almost nineteen years…" He trailed off.
"And?"
"I mean, I've always wanted my sight back, but there's only been a handful of times when I'd have honestly killed to be able to see."
Oh, Isaac.
I tightened my arms around him and kissed the side of his head. "And today was one of those days." It wasn't a question.
He nodded against me, and his voice was quiet, "Just once, ya know? If I could see her, just once."
I wasn't sure what I could say to make him feel better about himself, so instead I just held him. For the longest time, we just stood in his kitchen with our arms around each other. Eventually, I took him to bed, where instead of making love, I wrapped my arms around him again, kissed his lips then his closed eyelids, and told him he was perfect.
I could tell he didn't believe me. When I told him he was perfect, or called him gorgeous, he never believed me.
"What will it take for you to me believe me when I say that?"
Laying in my arms, he nuzzled into my neck. He never answered.
The next afternoon, after I'd done my usual Thursday afternoon house-calls, I picked up some flowers for Isaac. He made the fact well-known that I'd never given him flowers, so I stopped in at the florist on my way to his house, with hopes they'd cheer him up.
"I'm after some flowers for someone special," I told the lady behind the service counter.
"Ah," she smiled knowingly. "Red roses are special."
"Do they smell nice?" I asked.
"Well, most flowers these days are de-pollinated beforehand," she told me, "so they don't make a mess, it also means they don't smell quite as good."
"Well, it doesn't really matter what they look like," I told her. "But they need to smell beautiful."
She walked around to my side of the counter and over to a particular stand. "These smell divine," she said, lifting a bouquet to her nose and inhaling deeply. "But they're expensive."
Of course they are.
"I'll take them."
"Do you want to know what kind they are?"
I shrugged. "Doesn't really matter."
She gave me an odd look, took them to the counter and proceeded to ring up the sale. I handed over my credit card, and she smiled at me. "She must be special."
I smiled. "Yes, he is."
It took a second for my words to register, but I didn't wait for a response. I took my card, the flowers and called out, "Thanks!" as I walked out the door.
I grinned all the way to Isaac's place, looking forward to giving him his first bouquet of flowers.
But my smile died when I pulled into his drive, because parked in front of his house were two police cars. One car had its blue lights flashing, the other sat dormant, the front door of the house was open with someone in white coveralls dusting for prints.
With my heart in my throat, I grabbed the stupid flowers off the front seat, jumped out of the Jeep, and ran for the house.