Awakened By His Touch. Nikki Logan

love to say it had been. ‘Grape pollen is wind-borne. But we provide the bees to fertilise their off-season cropping. So the bees help create the soil that make their wines so great.’

      ‘Do they pay?’

      Back to money. Sigh. ‘No. They get a higher grape yield and we get the resulting honey. It’s a win-win.’

      He was silent for a moment, before deciding, ‘Clever.’

      The rush of his approval annoyed her. It shouldn’t make her so tingly. ‘Just standard bee business.’

      ‘So tell me about your focus on organic methods,’ he said to the table generally. ‘That must limit where you can place hives or who you can partner with?’

      ‘Not so much these days,’ her father grunted. ‘Organics is very now.’

      ‘Yet you’ve been doing it for three decades. You must have been amongst the first?’

      ‘Out of necessity. But it turned out to be the best thing we could have done.’

      ‘Necessity?’

      Every cell in Laney’s body tightened. This wasn’t the first time the topic had come up with strangers, but this was the first time she’d felt uncomfortable about its approaching. The awkward silence was on the Morgan side of the table, and the longer it went on the more awkward it was going to become.

      ‘My eyes,’ she blurted. ‘My vision loss was a result of the pesticides we were using on the farm. Once we realised how dangerous they were, environmentally, we changed to organic farming.’

      Her father cleared his throat. ‘And by we she means her mother and I. Laney and Owen weren’t even born yet.’

      She was always sure to say ‘we’. Her parents took enough blame for her blindness without her adding to it.

      ‘None of us really knew what they were doing to our bodies,’ her father went on, ‘let alone to our unborn children.’

      Well, one of them, anyway. Owen seemed to have got away with nothing worse than a teenager’s attention span.

      ‘Have we made you uncomfortable, Mr Garvey?’ her mother said after moments of silence. ‘Helena said we should have just sent you to town for a meal...’

      Heat rushed up Laney’s cheeks as his chair creaked slightly. It wasn’t hard to imagine Oh, really? in the voice that washed over her like warm milk.

      ‘No. I’m just thinking about how many worse ways the chemical damage might have manifested itself. How lucky you were.’

      Again the silence. But this time it wasn’t awkward. Surprised was the closest word for the half-caught breath that filled the hush. Was he being intensely dismissive of her loss—and her parents’—or did he actually get it?

      And possibly her.

      Warmth swelled up in her chest, which tightened suddenly. ‘Most people wouldn’t consider it luck,’ she breathed. ‘But as it happens I agree with you.’

      ‘And, as threatening as it must have been for you at the time, the decision sealed Morgan’s fate. Put you well ahead of everyone else in organics today. It was smart.’

      ‘It was a life-changer in more ways than one,’ her mother cut in.

      Silence again. Laney filled it with the first thing that entered her mind. ‘I gather we’ll be seeing you again, Elliott?’

      Elliott. The very name tingled as it crossed her tongue.

      ‘Really?’ His voiced shifted towards her father. ‘You’re happy to have me back?’

      Robert Morgan was predictably gruff. He always was when he dwelled on the bad old days. ‘Yes. I would like to hear what you have to say.’

      It didn’t take a blind person to catch his leaning on the word ‘I’.

      ‘And what about you, Laney? You’ll be doing all the escorting.’

      ‘Free advice is my favourite kind. I’ll be soaking it up.’ But just in case he thought he was on a winner, she added, ‘And weighing it up very carefully.’

      Approval radiated outwards. Or was it pleasure? Either way she felt it. It soaked under her skin and did a bang-up job of warming her from the inside out as he spoke gruffly.

      ‘That’s all I ask.’

      * * *

      Three hours later they walked together back towards the chalet, an unharnessed Wilbur galloping in expanding arcs around them, her hand gently resting on Elliott’s forearm. Not entirely necessary, in truth, because she walked this trail often enough en route to the hilltop hives. But she just knew walking beside him would be the one time that a rock would miraculously appear on the trail, and going head-over-tail really wasn’t how she wanted him remembering her.

      ‘It’s a beautiful night,’ he murmured.

      ‘Clear.’ Ugh, such verbal brilliance. Not.

      ‘How can you tell?’

      ‘The cicadas don’t chirp when it’s overcast, and I can’t smell moisture in the air.’

      ‘Right.’

      She chuckled. ‘Plus it may be autumn, but it’s still summery enough that the odds are on my side.’

      He stopped, gently leading her to a halt too. ‘Listen, Laney’ he said, low and somewhat urgent. ‘I don’t want every conversation we have to be laden with my reticence to ask you about your vision loss. I want to focus on your processes.’

      Was that his way of saying he didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of her any more than she did in front of him? Her breath tightened a tiny bit more.

      ‘Why don’t you just ask me now? Get it out of the way.’

      ‘Is that okay?’

      ‘I’ll let you know if it’s too personal.’ She set off again, close to his side, keeping contact between their arms but not being formally guided.

      He considered his first question for a moment. ‘Can you see at all?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘It’s just black?’

      ‘It just...isn’t.’

      Except for when she looked at the sun. Then she got a hazy kind of glow in the midst of all that nothing. But she wasn’t even sure she wasn’t making that up in response to the warmth on her face. Because she sometimes got a glow with strong emotion too.

      ‘It’s like...’ How to explain it in a way that was meaningful? ‘Imagine if you realised one day that all other human beings had a tail like Wilbur’s but you didn’t. You’d know what a tail was, and where it went and what its function was, but you just couldn’t conceive of what it would be like—or feel like—to have one. The extra weight. The impact on your balance. The modifications you’d need to allow for it. Useful, sure, but not something you can’t get by without. That’s vision for me.’

      ‘It hasn’t held you back at all.’

      ‘Is that a question or a statement?’

      ‘I can see that for myself. You are more accomplished than many sighted people. You don’t consider it a disability?’

      ‘A bat isn’t disabled when it goes about its business. It just manages its environment differently.’

      Silence.

      ‘Are you glaring or thinking?’

      ‘I’m nodding. I agree with you. But there must be things you flat-out can’t do?’

      ‘Dad made sure I could try anything I wanted—’ and more than a few things she hadn’t particularly wanted ‘—so, no, there’s not much