25

Cary felt eyes watching her all the time. Whenever she left the house, she had the sensation someone was following her. Never anyone she could spot. Ha. With her vision, she’d miss anyone who wasn’t wearing flashing neon antlers, but the creepy feeling of eyes staring at her back went with every step. Returning after being out brought panic that Mitch had found her, was waiting inside. Even once she was in and had checked all the little slips of paper placed at doors and windows, she didn’t feel safe.

She dreamed Mitch was chasing her through the cornfield. The wind slapped the blades in her face as she tried to escape. Thursday night she didn’t fall asleep until around four, then slept so hard she had trouble pulling herself from bed in the morning. She showered and dressed like the natives, in shorts, T-shirt, and sandals. Stuffing two library books in a tote bag, she went out to the screened porch and looked around before descending the steps. Just that small exertion had her sweating and the T-shirt clinging to her back.

She wanted to go home. She wanted Arlette. Swallowing hard, she blinked rapidly. Tears wouldn’t bring Arlette back. An awful smell blew in on the hot wind. For several days she’d been getting that smell. Deep in her heart, she knew what it was, but wouldn’t allow her mind to accept. Today the smell was so strong she couldn’t pretend. It was the smell of decay, death.

Slowly, she crossed the dirt road and approached the cornfield. Wind tossed the stalks and they rattled menacingly. Heart picking up speed, she took a step into the field. Strong smell. Not of decay, of corn and dust. Stalks rose three feet above her head, shutting out the light. She took small steps, squeezed around a plant and into the next row. With her poor vision all she saw was tossing blades leaden with fat ears of corn. After weaving through two more rows, she realized they didn’t run in a straight line and she didn’t know how to get out. Panic seized her. She ran. Dust rose with every footfall.

She stumbled and fell, breathing in fast gulps of dusty air. Stop, she told herself, just stop. Don’t move, breathe in, breathe out. The sun, where is the sun? The house is east. Even though she’d only ventured a short distance, it took an hour, luck, and a strong sense of direction to find her way out. She needed another shower before she went to work. Because she was in a hurry, she dropped the shampoo bottle. It hit the floor, the top rolled off, and shampoo spread everywhere. After she cleaned that up, she couldn’t find her shoes, then she did her thing of placing slips of paper in strategic places.

The sky was a cloudless blue that stretched forever, and the temperature was around ninety-five. People said this heat was unusual, that it got hot in August but not this hot. They also said September was usually worse. Stephanie, moving even faster than usual because Cary was late, gathered an armload of books, kissed her grandmother, said her last class had been cancelled and she’d be home early, then dashed off.

Elizabeth restlessly plucked at her nightgown. Probably felt as sticky and hot as Cary did. Cary gave her a sponge bath, and the entire time Elizabeth kept trying to say something. Occasionally her words were understandable, which was a good thing, and Cary encouraged her, but nagging worry pointed out that, if she could talk, she could tell the world about Cary’s lies.

When Elizabeth made motions like she was writing, Cary found a pad and pencil. Pencil clutched awkwardly in a fist, Elizabeth drew a C and then an A. Fear squeezed into Cary’s throat. Somehow Elizabeth had found her out, and was writing her name to let her know. Suddenly, the effort seemed too much and Elizabeth tossed the pencil. She slapped the pad with her palm. “Ca-ca…”

Cary simply stood there like a dummy. Elizabeth put a hand near her ear, thumb and little finger extended.

“Call?” Cary said. “You want to phone someone?”

Elizabeth stabbed a finger at Cary.

“You want me to call someone?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Who do you want me to call?”

Elizabeth pointed to the bedside table and kept pointing until Cary brought out the pamphlet about the miniature horse. “You want me to call about this?” Cary said.

“Ca-Ca…” Elizabeth held a hand near her face, as though talking on the telephone. “Ca! Call!”

“Yes, okay, I will.”

“Now!” Elizabeth clawed at Cary’s hand and pointed to the telephone.

“I’ll do it later. From home.”

“Now!”

Cary didn’t want to call about a horse that led around the blind. She didn’t want the world to know she was blind. For some idiotic reason, she was ashamed. Which was stupid. It wasn’t a punishment, she hadn’t chosen to be blind. Given a choice, she’d ask for her sight back in a flash. A Seeing Eye dog was one thing. Noticeable maybe, but not bizarre. A horse? She’d attract attention. She didn’t want people looking at her.

Elizabeth got so agitated, Cary punched in the number simply to quiet her. “Ronny Wells,” a woman answered.

Cary said she was interested in the Leading the Way program. When asked her name, Cary hesitated, then said “Kelby Oliver.” More lies. She’d run from Mitch and all the lies, and here she was still lying.

“Oh, right. You called a while back. You were inquiring for a friend?”

“Uh—no, actually…” How well did this woman know Kelby?

“I know you’re taking care of Dr. Farley. When are you free to leave?” Then, like a snowball gathering speed as it rolled downhill, Ronny was saying she’d come by, pick her up, and bring her out to show her around.

When Cary hung up, Elizabeth gave her a nod of approval. Bath, hair brushed, fresh nightgown. Breakfast, coffee midmorning. While Elizabeth napped, Cary did laundry and worried what would happen when Ronny Wells got a look at her. Elizabeth woke restless again, and kept trying to say something.

“K-k-k-ke?” She clutched at Cary’s arm with more strength than Cary thought possible.

“Kitchen? You hungry?”

Head shake. “K-k-k-k…”

“Cold? You want a blanket?” Trying to figure out what Elizabeth wanted to say was like playing charades.

Head shake. “K-k-k-ke—”

“Kind? Kitten?”

“K-ke-kel—”

“Kelby?” Tell her Kelby was missing, had disappeared and left behind her car, driver’s license, and credit cards? Lie? Say Kelby had gone to visit a friend?

Suspicious brown eyes glared at her. “Wh-ere?”

“I don’t know where she is.”

Alarm flared in Elizabeth’s face. “In t-t-tr-dan-g…”

While Cary was trying to figure that out, Stephanie came home and Ronny Wells drove up in a van with LEADING THE WAY painted on the sides.

“Hi. I’m Ronny Wells. Veronica, if you want to be formal.” She was maybe sixty, trim, athletic-looking, with short salt-and-pepper hair and a nice smile.

“Kelby.” Cary slipped into the passenger seat and waited to be called a liar.

“You know anything about horses?”

They have four legs and a tail? “Not a thing.”

Ronny laughed. “Did Dr. Farley bully you into this? I’ve heard she has the force of a tornado.”

Ronny had a bit of tornado force herself. Getting blind was one thing, stumbling around in the dark with a white cane, maybe even getting a dog, but Cary didn’t want anything to do with horses.

East of town, Ronny turned onto a gravel road that led to a gateway with a large arched sign, LEADING THE WAY. Pastureland stretched away into the distance, with horses of all sizes, heads down, munching grass.

“They don’t cost much to feed. About twenty dollars a year in grain and they mow your lawn to boot.” Ronny drove up to a red barn with white trim, just like a magazine picture. She got out of the van, motioned for Cary to come with her, and slid open the large barn door. A small horse trotted up to greet her.

“This is Cinnamon Ginger.” The horse was about two feet tall at the shoulder. Ronny patted its neck. “Her favorite snack is popcorn. Her favorite activity is watching television while she’s eating it.”

Cautiously Cary reached out, halfway expecting the animal to bite her. It looked up at her with the sweetest brown eyes and stretched its nose to touch her hand. She had never felt anything so velvety soft as this small horse’s muzzle. Every negative thought she’d had got erased when she knelt to stroke the animal and it kissed her cheek. Her heart went all gooey. When she learned she had to be evaluated before she was accepted into the program, she was, suddenly and with great regret, sure she’d be rejected.

“First you get to walk around with an old hand at this guide business named Janus. She’s led many candidates.”

Ronny took her out to a corral where a small, black horse was tied to a rail, and told her to take the reins and harness. “Phase I, candidate evaluation.”

Nervousness, stumbling, and saying left when she meant right, had Cary limp with worry and certain she’d failed miserably. Finally, just when Cary was so frazzled she was ready to give up, Ronny said, “Congratulations, you’ve passed the orientation and mobility skills. You now advance to Phase II, introductory training.”

Cary hadn’t been this relieved and proud when she completed her master’s. Phase II would be spent in classrooms learning all about the care of horses. Feeding, grooming, and proper facilities for housing. She would learn voice commands and get tested to determine if she understood how signals were communicated though the harness and reins.

With her poor vision, Cary tried to take notes and wished she had a tape recorder. If she passed Phase II, she would become an apprentice handler. One of Ronny’s assistants drove her home. Exhausted and exhilarated, Cary sat in the van, running through the voice commands. When she was dropped off at home, she checked the slip of paper in the doorway. It was torn. Had she done it? In her hurry, because she was late, had she accidently torn the scrap and not noticed?