Blind Promises. Diana Palmer

be that, she affirmed silently.

       Chapter Three

      Lorraine was waiting for her in the hall, wringing her hands. Her small face was heavily lined with apprehension.

      “Now, dear,” she began nervously, “he’s not at all as horrible as he seems, and I don’t mind raising your salary…!”

      Dana laughed heartily. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. You couldn’t pay me to leave now. It would be like retreating, and a good nurse never retreats under fire.”

      The older woman was visibly relieved. “Oh” was all she managed to say.

      “But I can certainly understand why my predecessors were in such a rush to get out the door,” she added with a grin. “He does have a magnificent temper, doesn’t he?”

      Lorraine sighed. “Yes, he does. Blindness isn’t easy for a man like my stepson, you know. He is—was—so athletic. He especially liked water-skiing and snow skiing and aerobatics in his plane….”

      The other woman was painting a picture of a man who had enjoyed a reckless life-style, as if he hadn’t considered life precious enough to safe-guard.

      She frowned. “Dangerous sports.”

      “Very obviously,” Lorraine said quietly. “He’s been that way since his wife died in the automobile wreck. He was driving, you see. It was many years ago, but he’s never been the Gannon he was when I married his father.”

      “How old was he when you married?” she asked quietly, sensing a kindred spirit.

      “He was ten.” She sighed, smiling. “His mother died when he was born, and his father went to his own grave loving her. I was a substitute. He cared for me,” she said quickly. “But not in the same way he cared for Gannon’s mother.” She turned away, as if her own memories were painful. “Is your room all right, my dear?”

      “It’s lovely. I’ll enjoy it very much while I’m here. Mrs. van der Vere, exactly what is the problem with your stepson’s eyes? Mrs. Pibbs was rather vague, and I’d like to know.”

      “That’s the problem,” Lorraine said as she led the way into her small sitting room and took a chair overlooking the rocky coastline. “There is no medical reason for his blindness. They call it—what’s that word?—idiopathic. Gannon’s doctor said that it could very well be hysterical blindness, brought about by the sudden shock of expecting to be stabbed in the eyes by those ragged wooden beams at the shore. The woman who was driving the speedboat lost control,” she explained. “Gannon was slung toward a dock with splintered boards. How it missed his eyes was truly a miracle, but he didn’t expect it to miss, you see. He was twisted and his head smashed into the dock. When he came to in the hospital, he was blind.”

      “And he doesn’t like the idea of admitting that it could be hysterical paralysis of the optic nerve,” Dana concluded, pursing her lips. “That’s quite understandable, of course. Was there any emotional trauma in his life at about the same time?”

      “Not that I know of,” the smaller woman commented. “Of course, Gannon is a very private person.”

      Dana nodded. “Does he go out at all?”

      “Socially, you mean? No,” she said sadly. “He stays in the living room and harasses his vice-presidents over the phone.”

      “His vice-presidents?”

      “At the electronics firm he owns, my dear. They manufacture all sorts of communications equipment—interfaces for computers, buffers, monitors, that kind of thing.” She shrugged and smiled apologetically. “I don’t pretend to understand; it’s far too technical for me. But the company’s introduced some revolutionary new system components, and apparently my stepson is something of an electronics genius. I’m very proud of him. But I have to admit, I have no idea exactly what he does.”

      “I don’t know anything about computers,” Dana murmured. She smiled secretly. “But if I asked, he might be tempted to educate me. It might even break the ice.”

      “Be careful that you don’t fall in,” Lorraine cautioned. “Gannon doesn’t particularly like women right now. He was almost engaged when the accident happened. The woman walked out on him.” She grimaced. “Perhaps some of that was guilt. She was driving the speedboat, you see.”

      Dana pondered that for the rest of the day. Poor lonely man: His life hadn’t been any picnic so far, either. She smiled, just thinking about the challenge Gannon was going to present.

      After letting him simmer all day, Dana took Gannon’s dinner tray in herself.

      He was sitting in a deep armchair by the open window that led onto the balcony. Outside, the waves were crashing slowly against the shore.

      He lifted his shaggy blond head when he heard the door open and close. “Mother?” he called shortly.

      “Hardly,” Dana replied. She put the tray on the big desk, watching him stiffen at the sound of her voice.

      “You again? I thought you’d gone home, Nurse.”

      “And leave you all alone, Mr. van der Vere?” she exclaimed. “How cowardly!”

      He lifted his chin aggressively. “I don’t need another nurse. I don’t want another nurse. I just want to be left alone.”

      “Loneliness—take it from me—is bad for the soul,” she said matter-of-factly. “It shrivels it up like a prune. Why don’t you walk along the beach and listen to the waves and the sea gulls? Are you afraid of sea gulls, Mr. van der Vere? Do you have a feather phobia or something?”

      He was trying not to laugh, but he lost. It rolled out of him like deep thunder, but he quickly stifled it. “Impertinent Miss Steele,” he muttered. “Your name suits you. Are you cold and hard?”

      “Pure marshmallow,” she corrected, removing the lids from the dinnerware. “Just take a whiff of this delicious food. Steak and mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade rolls and buttered asparagus.”

      “All my favorites,” he murmured. “What did you do, bribe Mrs. Wells to fix it? She hates the smell of asparagus.”

      “So she told me,” she said with a smile. “But it was her night off. I cooked it.”

      “You cook?” he asked curtly.

      “I used to live alone. I’d starve to death if I didn’t. Now, if you can’t manage by yourself, I’ll be glad to spoon-feed you….”

      He said something unpleasant, but he got to his feet and stumbled toward the desk.

      She walked around it and caught his hand. He tried to free himself but she held firm, determined not to let him dominate her.

      “I’m offering to help you,” she said quietly, staring up at his scowling face. “That’s all. One human being to another. I’d do the same for man, woman, or child, and I think you would for me if our situations were reversed.”

      He looked shocked for a minute, but he stopped struggling. He let her guide him to his chair behind the desk. But before he sat down, his big hands caught her thin shoulders for a minute and moved upward to her neck and her face and hair. He nodded then and let go of her to drop into the big chair, which barely contained him.

      “I thought you’d be small,” he said after a minute, groping for the cup of hot black coffee she’d placed within his reach.

      “In fact, I’m above average height,” she returned. The feel of his warm, strong hands had made her feel odd, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

      “Compared to me, miss, you’re small,” he said firmly. “What color is your hair, your eyes?”

      “I