At First Touch. Cindy Miles

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СКАЧАТЬ but didn’t grab. Didn’t hug. Didn’t touch.

      “This is grown-up Matt, Rea,” Emily spoke beside her, then giggled. “My fiancé and your soon-to-be brother.”

      Reagan turned her face toward Matt’s form. “I’ve heard...all about you.”

      Matt chuckled softly. “I bet you have.”

      “Well hells bells, no one told me the party was going to be in the side yard,” a deep, gravelly voice said. Another shadowy form moved toward Reagan, and she could tell a limp made him wobble a bit as he made his way to the group. Winded, he cleared his throat. “Gotta tell an old man these things, you know. Say, darlin’, can you bake? Not sure if I want any pies baked by a blind girl, but I’ll give anything a try once—”

      “Dad,” Owen chided. “Forgive old Jep, Reagan,” he said. “The years have stolen his manners.”

      Reagan felt caged in. Surrounded by so much unfamiliar familiarity. She wanted to escape. To be alone. “From what I can remember he lost those long ago.” Everyone chuckled around her, and she turned her face toward Jep. The old guy spoke his mind, and she confessed she liked that. At least he wouldn’t tiptoe around her. “Em’s always been the baker. I just...lick the bowl.”

      “Hmm,” Jep remarked. “Suppose I can share a bowl now and then. Still—glad to have another purty girl livin’ beside us. You’re welcome in our home anytime, darlin’.”

      “Thanks,” Reagan replied.

      “You’re welcome. Owen!” Jep called out.

      “Right here, Dad,” Owen said close by. “Come on around back, kids.”

      “Damned hush puppies won’t cook themselves, you know,” Jep added.

      “I know, Dad.”

      “Eric, I’m ready for those shrimp now, if you can find it in yourself to stop all that damned flirting and get a move on,” Jep grumbled.

      “Yes, sir,” Eric replied, then his voice was at Reagan’s ear. “He’s just jealous. I’ll save you a place beside me.”

      Reagan didn’t say anything, and the forms all began moving away.

      An arm slipped through hers. “Come on, Sissy,” Em said with a soft laugh, close to her ear. “Let’s go.”

      They walked, and soon the shadows and shapes and forms of the Malones all blurred together, and Reagan couldn’t tell who was who. Emily led her along the side yard and around back, to where the sun must’ve been shining with all its might, with no clouds to block the rays from her skin, and her cheeks warmed, and a fine sheen of moisture clung to her bare arms. For a moment, she felt...right.

      She imagined the sky was a vast blanket of blue. Imagined the sun gilded everything in its path. Imagined the water rippling as a mullet fish or a ray broke the surface. And as they stepped onto the dock, Reagan concentrated. Hard. She could hear the water lap at the marsh grass and mud, and the brine rose and blended with the warm June air as it rustled the big, waxy magnolia leaves.

      Yeah. She was home, all right. All those things felt familiar. Smelled familiar. Seemed familiar. Like from a long, long ago movie she’d watched; the way a certain scent triggered a particular event from the past. There, but dormant. Waiting for that spark to release it. It made her remember the girl she’d been, running down the dock and launching off of it, knees pulled to her chest, falling into the warm, brackish water. It seemed...a lifetime ago. The life she’d had before her parents’ fatal accident. Before her own.

      Only Reagan had changed. She was different. Different from anyone gathered on the dock.

      And she’d never be that Reagan Quinn again.

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE PUNGENT AROMA of strong coffee brewing seeped into Reagan’s subconscious, and her eyes blinked open. Confusion webbed her mind at first—where was she? For a moment she stared hard, trying to clear the haze and blur of the room. She sat up, rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. Then the feeling of dread that visited her daily swamped her, and she froze. She wasn’t just blind. She was blind...and home.

      Back on Cassabaw. Had been, for nearly a week.

      Coming home was...a shock. The last time she’d been on the island was the day of their parents’ funeral. They’d pulled away from the cemetery, a U-Haul carrying their belongings, and she’d never been back. She didn’t remember as much as Emily did, but flashes now crossed her mind, and they were like a thick cloud of recollections in front of her face. Ones she could almost see, but not quite. Faded pictures that were memories of her parents, laid out in an album; of playing on the dock with her sister; of easing through the creek in their father’s aluminum boat and letting her fingers brush the marsh grass as they passed. Sometimes she wondered if she actually remembered the memory or just the photograph.

      She’d lost her sight. Her parents. Her childhood. She’d lost...all of that. What she had in her brain was now the only photo album she had.

      Reagan let her body fall back against the pillows and she lay there, arm draped over those cursed eyes, and she squeezed them tightly shut and just...breathed. Tears pooled and spilled over her closed lids, dampening her pillow.

      Moments later, a knock sounded at her bedroom door, and before she could respond, the creaking of a rusty hinge alerted her that it was being cracked open.

      “Rea?”

      Reagan swiped at her eyes and sat up. “Hey,” she answered hastily, not wanting her sister to catch her in a moment of weakness.

      Emily’s soft footfalls crossed the room, and the bed sank a little when she sat on it. “I made coffee,” her sister said.

      “Yeah, I uh...” Reagan replied. “I can smell it.” She smiled, but turned her face toward the light streaming in through the window.

      “You okay, sis?” Emily asked, and she draped her arm over Reagan’s shoulders. Then she lifted the ponytail Reagan had pulled her shoulder-length hair into the night before. “Want me to brush it? It’s grown out since you cut it short.” Emily tugged at her ponytail. “I can braid it if you like—”

      “No, Em.” Reagan rose from the bed and slowly moved toward the blurred image of the window. With her hands outstretched, she grasped the sill and stood, allowing the sunlight to bathe her face. Outside the windows, crickets chirped. “I’m not helpless. I can get myself in and out of bed, dressed and...even braid my own hair. I’m not an invalid.”

      Emily’s sigh reached her ears. “I know—I didn’t mean anything, Rea. Honest. Hey,” she said brightly, changing gears. “Let’s have breakfast on the dock. Like we did when we were kids. Do you remember?” Her footsteps grew closer. Hesitant. “It’s a sincerely magical morning. Perhaps a mermaid will join us.”

      Reagan closed her eyes briefly, and a slight smile touched her lips. Emily had a way with words, and she’d always made up the best stories when they were kids. “Sure.” She turned toward her sister. “Sounds good.”

      “Swell! I’ll throw everything СКАЧАТЬ