A Glimpse of the Dream by L. A. Fiore
Just the idea of it made my eyes burn. “No.”
“Now you understand how I feel. We’re here now. Let’s move forward. Looking back won’t change anything.”
“I can do that.”
“So, why antiques?”
“This house. My life here. You. For the longest time all I wanted to do was look to the past, and eventually I learned that sometimes it is healthy to look to the past. Maybe you’ll come to Boston and see the life I’ve made there.”
He didn’t answer, because we’d had this discussion already. I knew his answer to traveling to Boston was a no, and he knew I knew. I understood, I really did, but it hurt that he would never know that significant part of my life. I brought it up again with hope that maybe he’d feel differently after he’d had time to think it over.
I was pushing it, but I added, “I’ll be with you. Think about it?” And though he said what he knew I wanted to hear, I knew his mind was already made up.
“I’ll think about it.”
Watching Kane work was an experience. He listened to recorded books and translated them into Braille. He had started the practice as a way of learning Braille, and now he found comfort in the work. He offered the books he translated to the public library, which distributed them among the other branches who had a need for them. He had a trusted group of people around him—Mrs. Marks and his family at Raven’s Peak; the O’Malleys; his lawyer and accountant, who took care of all his bills and legal matters; and Mr. Miller, who helped him with his boat.
As I watched him work, I couldn’t help but think as wonderful as this was for him, he was limiting himself. There was a big world out there, and yet he stayed here, where it was familiar and safe. I suppose I understood that, but the Kane of our youth had wanted to see the world. He’d dreamed of driving his boat up and down the coast. Sure, he wouldn’t see it in the same way, but it seemed he was giving up so much.
I wanted him to come to Boston. The topic was over. I knew he had no intention of coming to see the life I had made for myself. Maybe it was selfish of me to ask it of him, but it seemed to me that if you wanted to share your life with someone, you would want to know everything about that person. I’d been doing that with Kane, asking everyone about him, trying to really get the picture of his life when I wasn’t in it. His refusal to make the trip hurt. I got that he didn’t want me to treat him differently because he was blind, and yet he was treating himself differently, using his blindness as an excuse to disengage. He couldn’t have it both ways.
“You’re thinking too loud.”
Glancing over, I saw that Kane was no longer working but staring in my direction. My heart tripped in my chest like it did every time I looked at him. I couldn’t believe I was here with him, had thought the day would never come.
“Are you okay, Tea?”
“More than okay.”
“I’m almost done, and then we can go for a swim, if you want,” he suggested.
“I’d like that.”
His smile stopped my breath. “So would I.”
He kept pace at my side, never more than a foot away, his long strokes easily cutting through the water. He knew the area so well there was no anxiety, and as long as he could hear me next to him, he didn’t worry about me either. I loved that he still swam and that he had taught me how to so I could share moments like this with him. I knew how much he enjoyed swimming.
He wore a swim shirt, something he had never done before. He was covering his burns, I knew, but I wished he wouldn’t. Scarred or not, he was beautiful to me. And then I realized that he had never seen them. He didn’t know what they looked like, and I guessed that what was described to him by the doctors was technical and not for the layman.
After our swim, we sat on the beach, the sun drying us, and, though there were long periods of silence, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“Kane, has anyone told you about your burns?”
His muscles flexed; the subject was clearly not a favorite of his. “The doctors, but I tuned them out because I wasn’t ready to hear it. As I healed, I didn’t really see the point in having my head filled with the image of what I had become.”
That broke my heart—his scars weren’t as bad as he clearly believed them to be. I wouldn’t coddle him; he’d hate that, so instead I asked, “Aren’t you even a little curious?”
Every time those eyes found mine, I marveled at how well he was able to do that. “Maybe a little.”
“Would you like me to describe them for you? And before you say no, I think you are beautiful, scars and all. I wish you wouldn’t hide them from me.”
He said nothing, and I knew he was considering my words.
“Take off your shirt and let me tell you what I see.”
He hesitated, but he did as I asked and removed his shirt. He wouldn’t look at me, even though he couldn’t see. I got it. He was embarrassed.
My fingers were gentle when I ran them over the scar tissue. “It’s darker than the rest of your skin. Twisted and red, stretched in areas. Just above your nipple, across to your underarm, and up the center to your collarbone. Your neck down to midback, concentrating mostly on the left side; the edges are less pronounced and almost blend into the rest of your skin. To have survived this, to be the man you are, having lived through something so horrifying . . . yes, your skin is scarred, Kane, but it’s your skin, so it could never be ugly.”
He moved so fast, turning and drawing me to him, his arms coming around me like steal bands. His mouth found mine, his tongue pushing past the barrier of my lips to taste. My arms moved around his neck, holding him closer. His hands roamed down my body, over my breasts, and across my stomach, and everywhere he touched burned, aching for more. I felt his fingers on the strings of my top, felt when they stilled.
“Please don’t stop. I want you . . .” The memory slammed into me, the words came out before I could stop them, not that I would have. “I want you to poke me, Kane. Please.”
His entire body stilled, even the air in his lungs seemed to still before he started shaking. Concerned, I tried to pull away, until I realized he was laughing. The sound was so glorious, I closed my eyes and just soaked it in.
When he was able to speak, he said, “Are you begging me to poke you, Tea?”
“I really am.”
And then he was kissing me again, turning me, and lowering me to the sand. He worked my top off, his fingers tracing my collarbone, down my shoulder. He was learning my body, seeing it through his fingers. His other hand moved over my stomach, down my thighs. Straddling my legs, he cupped my breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing over the nipples just like he had done before. His head lowered, and his mouth closed over my breast. It was heaven feeling him touch me again. His fingers danced down my stomach and slipped under my suit bottoms. When he touched me, just the tips of his fingers on the nub that ached, my back arched. His mouth was on my other breast while his thumb took up the stroking, his fingers sliding over my aching flesh until he found me and pushed a finger in, slowly, as if he was savoring the sensations as much as I was.
His mouth moved lower, down my belly. Untying the strings of my suit bottom, he removed the fabric that separated me from him. Moving down my body, he lifted my ass and pressed a kiss right where his fingers had been.
“Kane.” My body was so oversensitive that, feeling his mouth on me again, I already felt the start of an orgasm. I fell completely over the edge when he pushed his tongue in deep, just as he squeezed that nub.
His mouth drifted back up my body, his lips lingering over mine. Reaching for him, my hand slipped under his waistband, finding him and wrapping around him. He moaned. His eyes closed. Shifting us, so I was straddling him, I moved lower down his body. His eyes opened, his focus on where my hand held him.
Pulling his shorts off, following the fabric down his legs, I slid back up his body and took him into my mouth. The sexiest sound rumbled up his throat as I worked him, twirling my tongue around the tip before slidi
“Come for me, Tea.”
And I did at the exact moment he did.
Leaving the beach, we returned to his house for a shower. In the bathroom, he turned on the water before he held his hand out for me. Grasping it, he drew me into the shower with him. His mouth was on me before I even felt the spray. His hands moved over my body, which was sleek from the water. Cradling my face, he kissed me deeply, like he needed to kiss me or he’d die. My hands found his stomach, the chiseled muscles of his abs. His body wasn’t the body of the boy I’d known, he was a man, a beautifully defined man. He broke the kiss and reached for the dispenser, filling his palm with shampoo, and his fingers on my scalp nearly made me moan in pleasure. No one had every washed my hair before, and no one could ever make it feel as wonderful as he did. My bones turned to goo.
Rinsing my hair, he moved on to my body, washing me so tenderly. When he was done, I washed him as thoroughly and sweetly as he had done for me. He tensed when I moved over his scars, and I felt his discomfort in every muscle. But he needed to get past that, because he was mine, all of him. He lifted me into his arms, pressed me against the shower wall, and when he entered me this time it was as tender as his washing had been. Kissing me as if I were the most precious thing in his life, he slowly and deliberating brought me to orgasm. My name passed his lips in a whisper when he followed shortly after.
I woke up in Kane’s bed and reached for him, but he wasn’t there. Stretching, my thoughts turned to the night before. After our shower, he’d brought me to his room and made love to me again. In the middle of the night, he’d reached for me twice. And just before dawn, we’d made love again. And it was love, not sex, it was a sharing of not just our bodies but our souls. That was what every sexual relationship I’d had since Kane had been lacking. No one but Kane had ever touched my heart or my soul.
Sitting up, I reached for the robe he’d left for me, but I got distracted when I saw his nightstand, or rather, what was on it: a glass of chocolate milk with whipped cream. My heart sighed at the sight, and then I saw what else shared the nightstand, his pictures. Ones he could no longer see, but still they were there, pictures of me, of us, through the years.
“Tea?”
Kane was leaning against the doorframe, his voice questioning, wondering if I was up yet. “I’m awake,” I said.
He walked into the room, his steps sure, before he sat down next to me. I took a sip of the milk, then reached for his hand to pass him the glass. “Do you still drink a glass of chocolate milk with whipped cream every morning?”
He didn’t seem to want to answer, but reluctantly he did. “Yeah.”
“So do I.”
This earned me a smile. “You looking at my pictures?” he asked.
“Yes. Where did you get all of them?”
“Mrs. Marks. I asked her if she had any. I wanted you close.”
“At home, I have a picture of you too.”
“Did you throw darts at it?”
“That was the intention, but no. When it got to the point that I missed you so much I ached, I’d pull it out and wish that it was me here with you instead of the woman who was.”
“There has never been anyone but you.”
“For me either. I know you don’t believe that, I can see that clearly on your face. Yes, I dated, I had sex, but that is all it ever was. I never had what we shared last night, never, only with you.”
“I’m jealous of those other men. Really fucking jealous.”
“Nothing to be jealous about. They got my body but never my heart or my soul. Those have always been yours.”
“I still don’t like knowing other men have touched you, tasted you, seen and heard you as you came.”
“You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking about it, so please don’t. There will never be another, I can promise you that.”
“Damn straight.” But he said that with a little smile. He wasn’t over it, but he was trying, and that was all that mattered.
The following morning found me at the boatyard. Kane had gone to the public library in town, but for what, he didn’t say. I’d asked if he wanted company, and he said he thought I’d get bored. This gave me the perfect opportunity for my mission. Silas Miller stood in a boat hangar where a sailboat was being refinished.
Hearing me approach, he turned and smiled.
“Teagan, hi.” He looked past me. “Is Kane with you?”
“No. I came alone. I wanted to ask you for a favor.”
Placing down the mechanical part he had been working on, he wiped his hands with a towel he had stuffed in the front pocket of his work pants.
“What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping you could teach me how to drive a boat.”
Interest moved to understanding and settled on approval. “For Kane.”
“He always wanted to build a boat and drive it up and down the coast. He’s building the boat, but I imagine, as self-sufficient as he is, he won’t be able to drive it.” Looking down for a minute, my throat tight thinking of Kane losing so much more than his sight, I added, “I want to be able to give him that.”
“He would love that.” Mr. Miller’s words were so soft, my gaze met his. “He often mentioned it, you and him, his boat.”
Knowing he had still been thinking of me, still wished for the dream, even with all that had happened, settled very comfortably in my chest.
“Let’s go check my calendar and we’ll schedule some days. You’ll need to get your boater’s license, but I can help you with that.”
“Thank you.”
“Damn sad turn of events, tragic, but seeing the two of you together is just proof that some things are meant to be.”
Kane and I were finding our way, and I was happier than I’d been in a long time. I wasn’t sure what he was doing when he went to the library, had asked him a few times, since he went daily, but he said it was a surprise. Whatever it was, he was happier after doing it, more confident and aware, so whatever he was doing, I hoped he kept at it.
Mrs. Marks was feeling almost back to normal. She had been in the hospital for nearly four weeks, but the last few times that I’d visited her, she wasn’t disoriented and was able to speak with no apparent struggle. The doctors were talking about discharging her. Hopefully in the next few days she would be coming home. It had been far too long since the five of us were all together in the house. The visit with Kane’s mom was coming up, and I knew he was nervous, but I sensed a vein of excitement in him too. I hoped that their first meeting, after all these years, wouldn’t be a disappointment for him.
The only blemish in my nearly perfect world was Mr. Sleazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about him—he was up to something. Simon had hired a PI a few years ago after someone had come into our shop and sold us a fake. When Simon left for Boston, he’d planned on contacting the PI to have him look into Mr. Sleazy. I had the sense Mr. Lawson was doing so already, but I was still uneasy and, with Mrs. Marks in the hospital, I wanted to make sure the man who was in her home wasn’t planning something nefarious. Wondering if Simon had heard from the PI, I reached for my cell phone and called him. He answered on the first ring.
“Hey, how’s it going? How’s Kane?”
“Better, good, really good. He’s more open with me, and his instinct to push me away seems to be occurring less and less. He’s working on something new—he won’t tell me what, but I love seeing him look less haunted.”
“That’s good, that’s
“Simon, we made love.”
“And?”
“It was perfect.”
His voice sounded deeper, softer. “You love him, that makes all the difference.”
“So how are you? How’s the shop?”
“We’ve been busy as hell. I uncovered a couple of treasures that the previous owners were clueless about. I think I should be able to tie everything up in a few days. I’m thinking about shutting it down for a month. What do you think?”
“A month?”
“Double, Teagan, we’ve made double what we normally do in a month. I’d like to close up and join you in Maine.”
“I’d like that.”
“Now’s not the time, but we need to talk about the shop, especially if you’re thinking about staying in Maine.”
Thinking about the future caused my stomach to twist into a knot. I wanted Kane, so if that meant staying in Maine, I was fine with that. But for Kane to not even consider living in Boston, to just want to settle at Raven’s Peak—I didn’t think that was the healthiest option for him.
“We’ll talk, just not now.”
“You know, we can always open a branch in Maine. There are options.”
I had thought of that, but I didn’t want to make any decisions now. When it came time to think about what was best for our business, I wanted the only factors to be the ones that were directly related to the business. My personal life shouldn’t have an impact on my professional decisions. It wasn’t fair to Simon or our business. “You’re right, and when I’m more comfortable with where Kane and I are heading, then we can sit down and figure it all out. Whatever happens, Simon, I don’t want to lose you.”
“Not going to happen, so don’t worry about it.”
“I needed to hear that. So I called . . .”
“Not just to hear my sexy voice?”
“That, and have you gotten anything back about Sleazy yet?”