Special Delivery by April Wilson
Chapter 19 - Jamie
Jamie McIntyre
As we swim laps together, I’m careful to match Molly’s pace so she doesn’t fall behind. We swim shoulder to shoulder from the shallow end of the pool to the deep end, and back again. Besides Jake and Aiden, who are waging a splashing war in the shallow end, we have the pool to ourselves.
I really enjoyed taking care of Luke this morning. I love that little guy and love spending time with him. I enjoy spending time with all my nieces and nephews, but if I’m being honest, I have an ulterior motive. I want to demonstrate to Molly that, despite being blind, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of children. I’d be a good father and a good husband. I know I would be, because I’d give them everything I had—every bit of me. I’d never stop striving to be what they need.
Molly has never once made me feel that she thinks otherwise, but she wouldn’t be human if the thought didn’t occur to her. We’ve talked about marriage, and she knows I want us to have a family, but we haven’t made any concrete plans. Something’s holding her back, and I’d be stupid not to wonder if it’s my blindness.
Is she willing to saddle herself with a blind partner? Is she willing to have children with one?
We swim laps for about twenty minutes—until I hear her struggling to catch her breath. I think she’s had enough. She hasn’t conditioned the way I have.
As we approach the shallow end of the pool, I stand and snag her hand and pull her close. “Ready for a break?”
“Yes, thank you,” she says, panting as she tries to catch her breath.
After we dry off, we head back up to our suite to change clothes. Molly opts for a shower so she can wash her hair to get the chlorine out. I sit out on the balcony in the late morning sun and listen to the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and the rhythmic sound of lake water lapping against the shore. I hear a yacht’s horn off in the distance, accompanied by the low growl of a pair of jet skis.
After my accident in the military, I recuperated here at this house. Kenilworth was my home for a long time, while I struggled with depression and PTSD. It became my safe place.
It’s here that I learned to navigate my way through a home. This is where I learned to hone my remaining senses. Elly taught me to cook and do my own laundry. She taught me to be self-sufficient.
But after a while, I grew restless. Shane and Elly had made living here too comfortable for me. They saw to everything I needed, and it eventually made me feel less of myself. That’s when I knew I had to move out on my own and test my abilities. I craved independence. So I moved into an apartment building in Wicker Park, and that’s where I met my new neighbor—Molly.
I never had the pleasure of seeing Kenilworth myself. I was already blind when I arrived here. But Molly, with her artist’s vision, described the landscape so vividly that I felt I could see it. In my mind’s eye, I could picture this house and how it sits on the land. I could see the lake perfectly, the blueness of the sky, the white clouds. I could picture the collection of boats moored at Shane’s private dock, the long grasses that grow on the slope heading down to the private beach. Thanks to Molly, I could see it all in my mind.
Back when I could see, I took it for granted, of course. Don’t we all? But I don’t live in the past. I don’t mourn for what I lost. No, I live in the present—and presently, I am a blind man who loves a woman who, I suspect, is afraid of the future. Afraid of what might or might not happen.
The glass door behind me slides open and Molly steps out onto the balcony. She smells like vanilla-scented soap and mint toothpaste.
“It’s lovely out,” she says as she comes to stand behind me. She leans down and wraps her bare arms around me and rests her chin on my shoulder. “There’s not a cloud in the sky, which is a bright cerulean blue. The tree limbs are swaying gently in the breeze, their bright green leaves contrasting brilliantly against the blue of the sky.”
She’s my eyes.
Smiling, I turn to face her, and we kiss.
“You were great in the pool with Luke,” she says. “He had such a big grin on his face. He loves the water. Aiden does, too.”
“They both need swimming lessons. It’s a practical matter. All kids need to know how to swim.”
She tucks my hair behind my ear, her touch sending a heated shiver down my spine. “And their Uncle Jamie is the perfect person to teach them.”
I grab her hand and pull her around in front of me and sit her on my lap. After capturing her hand, I bring it to my lips to kiss. When my hands settle on her hips, I realize, to my pleasant surprise, she’s naked. “You’re naked,” I say as I skim my hands up her torso, then back down to her ass.
She laughs. “I am.”
Knowing her bare butt is on my lap, I can’t help but respond. My cock hardens, pressing against my jeans. “If you’re going to prance around me naked, then I think the least you can do is marry me.”
I hear the swift intake of her breath.
This isn’t the first time I’ve asked her. Or the second. But each time I’ve broached the subject, she has gently changed it.
She sighs. “Jamie.”
I link our fingers together. “What are you afraid of?” I know she loves me, and she knows I love her. There’s never been any doubt of that. But something is holding her back from making a commitment. I have to ask her the obvious question. “Is it my blindness?”
“God, no!” she cries, clearly offended that I’d even suggest it. She pulls her hand free and cups my face. “Jamie!”
I smile guiltily because I know it was a sneaky, low blow. She has no problem with my lack of sight. “Do you think I can’t take care of you? Or that I can’t take care of our future children? Because I can. I—”
She turns to straddle my lap. “You know better than that,” she says, practically growling the words. Her hands cradle my face once more, and she leans in to kiss me, her mouth simultaneously sweet and hot. Strands of her wet hair fall against my cheeks, cool and smelling of peppermint.
“Then please, for God’s sake, woman, show me some mercy. Say yes. Tell me you’ll marry me.”
She sighs as her lips graze mine. She kisses the tip of my nose, then my closed eyelids, then my forehead. “Jamie—” She hesitates to say more.
“Tell me what’s holding you back. Just say it. If it’s not my blindness, then what is it?”
She’s silent for a long moment—so long I’m afraid she’s not going to answer me. Then, she says, “I’m thirty-five, Jamie. On top of that, I’ve had breast cancer. It’s possible it could come back one day. And I know how much you want a family—children. I have no breasts. I can’t—”
“Stop.” I grasp her face in my hands and make her face me. Even though I can’t look her in the eye, I know she can read my expression. “Last time I checked, having breasts isn’t a prerequisite for having babies. And yes, it’s possible your cancer could come back. It’s also possible I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. Life doesn’t come with guarantees, baby. We go for what we want and hope for the best. What I want is to be married to you, share my life with you. And if we’re lucky, we’ll have a family in the process. And if we don’t, then we have each other. Tell me you don’t want that, too.”
“I do, but—”
“No buts.” I reach into my jeans front pocket and pull out the gold band that I carry everywhere with me, just in case. “Let me put this ring on your finger, Molly. Right now. Please.”
She laughs softly as she nuzzles my face. “How can I resist such a romantic gesture?”
“To hell with romance. I tried that and it didn’t get me the answer I wanted. Now I’m going for direct. Marry me, Molly Ferguson. Take pity on a blind man and say yes.”
She leans closer, and I feel her breath against my ear. Then she whispers, “Jamie McIntyre, there’s absolutely nothing about you to pity.”
“Then say yes.”
She sighs. “Yes.”
My heart slams into my ribs. “Yes? Really?”
“Really.”
“So if I tell my family at dinner tonight that you’ve agreed to marry me, you won’t contradict me?”
She laughs. “I won’t. I promise.”
“I’m holding you to it,” I say. I set her off of me so I can stand. Then I sweep her into my arms and carry her back into our room. “This definitely calls for a celebration,” I tell her as I somewhat gently toss her onto the bed.
She laughs again, and the sound wraps around my heart.
I follow her down onto the bed and roll onto her.
“Aren’t you a bit overdressed?” she says as her hands skim over my chest and down to my hips.
I shiver when I feel her fingers unfasten my jeans. I don’t need any other encouragement. I shuck off my clothing—all of it. When I come back to her, she pulls me close.
