Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
PRESENT DAY
[WiseWave620: Did you know I graduated high school when I was fifteen? I could have done it early but I had a crush on one of my teachers and kept flunking her class. And before you judge, how close could you have been paying attention if Jessica Rabbit was teaching you?]
* * *
Tally did not spend the night at Mark’s apartment. He drove her back to her place around three in the morning. She already reset her alarm so she got more than two hours of sleep. She felt bad that she might miss the little homeless boy coming to the restaurant but she needed sleep if she had any hope of functioning the next day.
A weight was lifted from her shoulders as she fell asleep that night. Mark had agreed to return to being friends, though she knew he was reluctant to do so. She appreciated that he didn’t fight her on her decision. Maybe when things calmed down with her restaurant and she was able to have a more manageable schedule, and if Mark was still single, they could revisit the idea of being more than friends.
She felt her mystery man’s presence as soon as she exited the bedroom in the morning. “Did you sleep on the couch?”
Though she wasn’t surprised she got no answer, it didn’t stop her from hoping for one. Still in her pajamas, Tally made her way into the kitchen. It was after seven and she was dragging her feet, even though she’d technically slept in from her normal alarm.
The smell of coffee drew her over to the coffee pot. Her favorite morning blend was a dark hazelnut roast from Hawaii. From the weight of the pot, it was still full.
“Do you want coffee?” Though she got no answer, Tally grabbed a second mug and poured it. “I drink it black but Simone’s got some creamer in my fridge if you want it. Sugar’s in the cabinet on the right of the fridge.”
She put the mug on the island in open invitation before getting the ingredients out for her breakfast. Though she was as American as they came, she never understood her country’s insistence of putting cheese on everything. Her morning omelet was richer without the overwhelming sharp tang of cheese. Tally topped the mushroom and scallion omelet with finely diced tomatoes before placing the plate on the island next to the untouched cup of coffee.
Turning back towards the range, Tally bit her lip in worry. She didn’t know why it meant so much to her that he hadn’t eaten the sandwich she’d made him the day before. She was willing to forgive him since she suspected he’d cleaned up and organized the chaos that had accumulated on her desk, but it still…bothered her.
“I was born blind. Did you know that? There’s more than one reason a person is blind, as well as different levels of blindness. I was born with Double Anophthalmia, which means my eyes were never made . Microphthalmia is when the eye develops but it’s too small and/or has limited or no vision. For me,” she waved her hand in front of her face, “I got nothing. Just two holes in my head where my eyes never formed.
“I got my first set of prosthetics when I was about eighteen months old. They’re there to be more than a way to fit in with society, too. They also protect my eye sockets from getting anything in them and to help my eyelids form. Because I got them so young, I’m told my eyelids developed normally and don’t droop.
“Have you seen my collection of eyeballs?” Tally giggled to herself as she plated her breakfast. “It really freaks people out when I wear different colors, but what really gets people are the ones that look like ‘demon’ eyes.” She shrugged. “I’ve never seen demon eyes, so what do I know, but I’ll gladly scare the crap out of people who piss me off by wearing them.”
Turning off the burner, she put the dirty skillet on a silicone mat to cool. Holding her coffee in one hand and her plate in the other, Tally confidently moved around the island to the second stool on the left. She had four high-back stools at the island, which left two potential seats to her right.
Tally took a sip of her coffee before starting her breakfast. “My parents were awesome. Knowing how much time and extra attention I would need, they decided not to have any more kids. One of my first memories is sitting on my dad’s lap as he read me a children’s story.”
It was faint, but she caught the slight scraping of the plate being moved across the counter and then the groan of metal as the stool on the far right accepted someone’s weight.
Tally quickly scooped some of her omelet into her mouth to hide her smile. He didn’t have to drink the coffee, not everyone liked coffee, but he was eating the omelet. Happiness and satisfaction filled her.
Not wanting to draw attention to him, Tally continued speaking, “It’s a common misconception that someone who is blind only sees black. First of all, I’ve never seen black so I have no idea what black is to be able to tell you if that’s the color that’s in my head. I understand the idea of colors, but colors in and of themselves don’t matter to me the way sighted people think of them. I know that the sky is blue and the grass is green,” she held up her fork, “that my omelet is yellow, but I don’t really care . To me, the sky is the sky, the grass is the grass, and my omelet,” she popped her fork into her mouth, “is fucking tasty because I’m awesome.”
She chewed for a moment before swallowing. “But I do see . It might not be the world you know, but it’s my world. Everything has a sound, a vibration. Smells, tastes, feels… That’s my world. My senses all help me to create an image inside my head. That image has definition and detail.” She clicked her tongue several times. “For instance, I can’t tell you what color your eyes are, but I know you have short hair.” She clicked her tongue again, picking up the acoustical signature of her mystery man. “You’re wearing long sleeves and there’s something on your chest, like a vest maybe.” She turned her head, continuing to click her tongue. “And you’ve eaten almost half your omelet.” Tally couldn’t keep the smile off of her face as she spoke those words.
“My parents thought I was nuts when I said I wanted to become a chef. I think I was three or four when my grandma started to teach me to cook. It was a peach pie, by the way. The first thing I’d ever made. We were following her recipe and it was incredible. I could smell the individual ingredients and then the combination of them. I just... I knew .” She tapped the table with her middle finger for emphasis. “I knew that this was what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn’t about finding a job that I could do just as good or better than a sighted person. It was about what made me happy. And cooking made me happy.
“It still does,” she added before taking her last bite of her omelet. “I’m not saying it wasn’t hard. I have a lot of scars on my body that tell you all about my mishaps.” Tally rolled up her pajama sleeve to reveal a faded burn mark on her right forearm. “Got that when I was ten and knocked a pot of burning oil over.” She put her sleeve back down. “It could have been a lot worse. Anyway, no profession is without risk and I knew that I would have trials learning mine that no other chef would have. Or very few,” she corrected.
Tally stood to pick up her plate and carry it to the sink. When she asked her phone the time, she was startled to learn how late it was. “Fuck! I need to get in the shower!”
Leaving the dishes behind, Tally hurried into her bedroom to get her clothes for the day and then headed into the bathroom. She skipped shaving, not having the time. Her long hair, though thick, thankfully air-dried in a couple of hours. Blow drying was not an option for her, but not because of her blindness. Her mother had taught her at a young age that her hair type did not handle blow drying well.
Feeling spry, Tally put her cat eyeballs in for the day. That decision might have also been made because she knew that Noah was on the schedule again for the dinner shift.
Hurrying into the kitchen to clean up, Tally stopped when she realized that everything was put away already. Clicking her tongue, she found no dishes on the counter or in the sink. The skillet she’d used to make breakfast was hanging on the wall in its place.
Running her hand over the coffee maker, she discovered it was off and the grounds were tossed out. A travel mug was sitting on the island as if waiting for her. There was something else next to it, but it was too small for her to detect what it was. The way it was curled, she thought at first that it might be a ring, but it didn’t sound like it was metal.
Her fingers recognized the tape from her braille labeler immediately. The parchment paper was still on the back of the sticker. Her fingers ran over the distinctive bumps.
???????
Thank you
Tally’s chin quivered as she continued to feel the message over and over again. Two simple and small words that meant the world to her. She wished she could remove the sticker paper and adhere the label to her palm so she could feel it throughout the day.
But that was neither possible nor sanitary. Instead, she removed the back paper and placed the label on the inside of the left shoulder strap of the tank top she wore under her chef’s shirt. That way, she could feel it against her skin all day.
* * *
[WiseWave620: Did you know I don’t have any tattoos? I tried when I first joined the club, but I freaked out when Angel brought the needle anywhere close to me.]
* * *
Scar couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Tally. He stood in the corner between her hallway and her kitchen, just staring. She was such a phenomenon. Unique and so easy to watch. She moved with such grace and confidence that Scar completely believed her when she said that she could see in her way .
Her voice was like a siren’s song. Even when she was yelling or being bossy, her words were music to his ears. He was torn between closing his eyes just to listen to her and never blinking again so he didn’t miss a moment of what she was doing.
They had arrived late to the restaurant. Scar didn’t know if the little boy he’d left a pair of sneakers for the day before had tried to show up or not. Scar had tracked him down to an alley two blocks down and left the food Tally had made for him there. He’d been distracted by trying on his new sneakers and hadn’t noticed Scar’s presence, but Scar stayed to watch him find and collect the food.
Scar was loath to let the boy run off after that. He was far too young to be alone on the streets, but if the boy was as skittish as Tally claimed, Scar knew it would take time to get him to trust Scar.
Bringing him more food would help.
Before Tally got things ready for her staff’s arrival, she made another to-go container. Without her needing to ask him, Scar had taken the box and gone searching for the boy. The restaurant had been opening for lunch by the time he found him down by the river. Scar had not approached him. Instead, he’d caught the boy’s eye, placed the food on the cement bleachers facing the Chattahoochee River, and then backed away. He stayed as the boy cautiously approached the food.
As soon as he had it in his hands, he’d run off. Scar hoped he didn’t throw away the napkin inside the box where Scar had hid a twenty dollar bill and had written Tally’s cell phone number.
Since being back at the restaurant, Scar had been in his shadowed corner…just watching Tally. He didn’t know how she did it in all the hustle and bustle, but every so often she would change the tenor of how she clicked her tongue, as if making it louder broadened her range, and she would find him still in the corner.
That little smile… Fuck, it was the same one that had appeared on her face that morning when he’d taken a bite of the omelet she’d made for him.
Scar hadn’t planned on sitting at her kitchen table, eating breakfast with her. He hadn’t even realized she was making him the omelet until she’d placed the plate on the island next to the cup of coffee she’d also offered Scar. He’d caught the worry on her face as she looked away and the way she bit the inside of her bottom lip. It brought back the look of sadness he’d seen on her face the day before in her office after she’d discovered he hadn’t eaten the sandwich she’d made for him.
In that moment, Scar knew he would do anything and everything to never see her that sad again. Then, when he’d taken his first bite of her omelet, and he’d seen that small smile on her lips, the way she tried and failed to hide it… Fuck, Scar would kill for that smile.
To see it across her kitchen now, knowing that she was searching for him… Scar couldn’t describe it. He was entranced. He remained exactly where he was, just waiting for the next time she found him and her lips curved upward minutely.
When the other workers went on break, Tally made two plates with pasta and chicken with a light brown sauce. She headed towards him without hesitation. Scar stepped to the side, pressing himself back against the wall, to let her pass.
“Can you grab me a sparkling water and whatever it is you want? Oh, also we need two utensil sets please.”
He watched her continue down the hallway to her open office door. Once she was inside, he stepped into the kitchen to grab the utensil sets and then walked over to the reach-in fridge to grab her bottle of sparkling water. After a moment’s hesitation, Scar also grabbed himself a water bottle.
Since he’d eaten breakfast that morning with her, he wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to eat now. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but he also wasn’t used to eating so much or such rich food. He was still full from her two-egg omelet.
He didn’t know how to communicate that to her. Per Sissy, Scar had very expressive eyebrows, but that certainly didn’t help him now.
Entering her office, he saw Tally sitting behind her desk. “I swear, this place has never been this organized. I should hire you on as an office manager.”
Scar put her sparkling water on the desk. He thought about tapping the desk to show her where the bottle was, but Tally reached for it without hesitation. She truly was incredible. He put her utensil set down too.
Grabbing his plate that she’d made for him, Scar went to the wall next to the filing cabinet and sat on the floor.
“There’s a chair right there,” Tally pointed out to him. “Why are you sitting all the way over there on the floor?”
Scar looked down at the plate she’d prepared for him. It did smell good. The chicken was diced up in a thick and creamy sauce. He caught the scents of chili pepper, thyme, and oregano. Definitely garlic and basil too. The pasta was spaghettoni, which he knew from Jenna was a thicker version of the standard spaghetti noodle.
How did he get her to understand that simply being in the room with her, allowing her to acknowledge his presence, was like accomplishing a huge milestone for him?
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Tally’s chef shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white tank top underneath. She had her right hand across her chest, playing with the left shoulder strap of her tank. Was it itching her?
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me. I have a feeling my dad told you not to talk to me. He should have known better than to think you could sneak around without me noticing you were there. To be honest, you weren’t that hard to detect.” She winked at him and Scar nearly dropped his fork. “I know my dad worries and I hope you are telling him, at least, that I don’t need anyone’s help.”
The reminder about her father, who he was and the reason Scar was supposed to be in Atlanta, soured his stomach. He did put his fork down without having eaten any of the food. If only one of the VDMC dogs was here to eat it so Tally didn’t realize he hadn’t touched his plate. Sitting forward, Scar opened the water bottle he’d taken from her reach-in fridge and took a small sip of the cool liquid.
Tally was Alpha’s daughter. What the hell was he even doing in her office, trying to share a meal with her? He knew Alpha had gotten his message and was not making a move on Mount Grove, but that was a temporary solution. Alpha still wanted Scar and eventually his patience would run out.
Yet rather than getting more leverage on the man, Scar was sitting in his daughter’s office with a plate of pasta and chicken.
“Something changed just now. It’s like you’re worried about something. I won’t tell my dad I caught you sneaking around. I promise.”
Scar closed his eyes, looking away from her. Was this why she’d changed her attitude towards him? She thought that he was a, what, bodyguard sent by her father? She couldn’t be further from the truth. At least she didn’t think he was there to kill her anymore or that he worked for Gordon Tremont.
The only thing that she did have correct was that he was there to protect her. But protect her from what? If she learned who he was, his aim to end her father…? She would view him as the enemy.
“Let’s change the subject,” Tally suggested. Scar looked up to see her twirling her spaghettoni onto her fork like a professional Italian. “Since I doubt asking you a question would be much of a conversation starter, I’ll talk. You,” she pointed her fork at him without dumping the perfectly twirled spaghetti off of it, “eat. You’re too skinny.
“Okay, let’s see…” She ate her pasta as she thought. “A lot of people wonder why I don’t have a Seeing Eye dog. I had one growing up. His name was Eyeballs.” She shrugged, her face crunched in that adorably sheepish way. Like she felt embarrassed but didn’t know how to form the standard expression. “I was four when I named him. Anyway, Eyeballs was an awesome dog. We went everywhere together. I had him from the time he was six months old and went through training with him to when he passed away at sixteen. He was long retired by then and living in luxury in my parents’ house. I still miss him. At first, I didn’t have the heart to replace him, and by then I was in culinary school. People might be able to accept a blind chef, but they’ll still have issues with a dog in the kitchen.”
She ate a couple more bites before continuing. “Here’s a fun fact: I can make a killer crème br?lée, but I have no idea what an elephant looks like.” She giggled at herself. “I had a book as a kid that had tactile images of animals so I have a basic picture in my head, but it’s not like I’ve ever been able to walk up to one and touch it to get a more exact idea.” Her voice turned conspiratorial as she added, “One day, I plan on bribing a zookeeper so I can touch an elephant.”
Her mischievous smile had Scar wanting to research where the nearest zoo was with an elephant exhibit.
Tally continued eating. “Have you ever thought about how cheese is made? Trust me, if you knew, you wouldn’t be so quick to eat it. If you don’t want to know, speak now or forever hold your peace, because I’m going to tell you.” She paused, as if waiting for Scar to ‘speak now’, and then shrugged. “Your loss, because trust me, I’m about to horrify you. But since I’m the one driving the conversation here, I get to choose the topic of conversation.
“So, first, you have to acidify the milk…”
Scar leaned his head back against the brick wall. Food forgotten, he sat as still as a statue, watching and listening as she explained how cheese was made.
She could have been reading the dictionary and he would have been just as enraptured.
* * *
[WiseWave620: Star’s cat is staring at me again. I swear he’s plotting my death.]
* * *
Scar blinked awake. He assessed where he was and how he’d gotten there in a strategic manner. Tally’s living room was dark. It usually was since she didn’t use the overhead lighting, but it was darker than normal. Nighttime. The heavy dinner rush had trickled down to a light lull, which had meant sections of the restaurant had been able to close early. After her executive chef insisted she head home, Tally had been able to walk out at quarter to eleven rather than after midnight.
She’d found him in the shadows of the alley next to her loading dock. “I’m walking home. You’re welcome to join me rather than lurk behind me like a stalker. Your choice .”
Scar had stepped under the streetlamp next to her. It had been…interesting to say the least. To walk beside her rather than feet or blocks behind her as she clicked along, swiping her walking cane in front of her. He hadn’t touched her, didn’t want to, but he kept thinking about his club brothers back in Pennsylvania. How if any one of them had been the one walking beside her, he would have been able to offer Tally his arm as if the two of them were just enjoying a summer night stroll. And how Tally wouldn’t need to use echolocation or her walking cane because she would trust him to guide her.
Then the image changed to Tally holding Scar’s arm as they walked beside each other.
It was such a stupid fantasy. They weren’t friends. All of Scar’s friends thought he was dead because he?—
Scar flinched. Because he was a bastard of the highest order, that’s why. He wanted to protect them from his past. Yet here he was, sitting on Tally’s couch. No, sleeping on Tally’s couch. He couldn’t ignore the distinction.
After they’d gotten back to her home the night before, it had been too early for Tally to sleep, even though she was exhausted. She’d gotten into some bad sleeping habits over the past year and was still a bit too wired. She’d suggested popcorn and an audiobook.
Tally didn’t have a television. She said she enjoyed movies with audio descriptions, but preferred audiobooks. Generally, she only listened to movies when she was with friends because they were watching a movie. She didn’t like going to the theater because other patrons got mad when the audio descriptions were played. Only recently did certain theaters offer private devices that she wore like headphones. It wasn’t worth the hassle.
With an audiobook, she could immerse herself entirely in the story. Braille books weren’t as widely available as people thought and only certain publications offered them. More than not, kids’ books were readily available.
Of course, Tally didn’t eat bagged popcorn. She’d made stovetop popcorn with a garlic parmesan seasoning.
Once seated in the left corner, Tally had curled herself up in a blanket, put her phone and bowl of popcorn on the center cushion, and then patted the couch in open invitation.
Scar still wasn’t sure why he sat down. It was like she had a power over him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it or understood it.
He liked Tally. She was an amazing woman. With her disability, she could have had a very different woe-is-me outlook on life, but she didn’t. She chose to live her life as she wanted, to make her own stamp on the world. She never stopped to say, “No, I can’t do that. I’m blind.” Instead, she found her way of doing it.
Scar admired her. He had from the start, and there was no denying that fact, but to fall asleep next to her while listening to an audiobook…
He didn’t have his night vision contacts in, but he didn’t need them to know that Tally was asleep on the couch beside him. Her phone was still playing the book, the low volume a constant murmur in the background. He turned the phone over, the screen providing the only light in the room. Tally was curled up over the opposite arm of the couch from where Scar was seated.
He had to hand it to her. The couch was extremely comfortable for the puke-orange color. He could understand why it was the perfect purchase for her though. As she’d said the day before, what did color matter to her? She cared about comfort and the feel of the couch. In that, Scar agreed she got the best one.
But it wasn’t the couch that had lulled him to sleep. Fuck, when was the last time he’d slept longer than ten minutes a stint in the past decade. Other than when Alpha’s medical team had forced him into a medically induced coma, that is.
The hardest part about sleeping for Scar was the feeling of vulnerability. Of not knowing what was happening in the real world while he was trapped in a dream simulation. He’d chosen to take a nap once before and his team had been ambushed.
Logically, Scar knew that the two were not connected. His team hadn’t been ambushed because Scar had taken a nap. His team had been on the road for hours and Scar had been awake planning with their Commander for nearly twenty-six hours before they’d bugged out. It was entirely reasonable that he could get some shuteye in the MV.
The not-so-logical part of his brain would not accept that rationalization though, which was the root cause of his insomnia. He knew this. He’d been living it for the past decade, only catching some shuteye when he felt completely safe, and even then, only for several minutes at a time.
Looking at Tally’s screen on her phone, it was nearly three in the morning. Her audiobook had been playing for almost three hours straight. He’d been asleep for two of those hours.
Scar could not recall if Tally had fallen asleep before or after him. If it was before… He looked over at her shadowed sleeping form. She was Alpha’s daughter . He should not feel safe around her. But he’d eaten her food, drank her water, and now had fallen asleep beside her.
Once more, logic was leading him down a path that Scar could not accept. Because he shouldn’t feel safe around Alpha’s daughter, and yet, apparently, he did.
* * *
[WiseWave620: I asked Angel to start training me. I know I was in the Navy, but unlike you guys, I did my time behind a desk. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t the best shot when I was at boot camp. Anyway, I couldn’t ask Ghost or Ranger. They’re great guys, but a bit intimidating, you know? And I haven’t been able to look Bulldog in the eyes since I asked about your will.]
* * *
Her mystery man was no longer hiding. This made Tally happy, though it didn’t lessen the frustration of his silent presence any. Why wouldn’t he talk to her? She asked him a lot of questions and never received a single answer.
The most important question being: “What’s your name?”
Over the next two weeks, they fell into a routine of sorts. Simone, Tom, and Mark had all been by to see her, both at her restaurant and at her apartment. Simone had even pulled Tally aside to ask her if ‘her stalker’ was in the room with them. Tally had not been able to detect him at that specific time, yet he’d reappeared the moment they’d left out the front door.
“Are you ever going to tell me how the fuck you do that?” she demanded and, of course, got no answer.
Gordon Tremont stopped by her restaurant twice more. Once, he even took her up on her offer to eat lunch. Tally felt a great amount of satisfaction when her dining room was so full that her hostess, Chelsea, had to inform Mr. Tremont that there was a wait of over an hour to be seated.
It did not pass her notice that her mystery man disappeared after the first visit when Gordon Tremont decided an hour wait was not worth annoying her with his presence in her dining room.
However, the second time Gordon Tremont had shown up, her mystery man had. not only walked up behind Tally in the crowded restaurant, but also stayed with her afterwards. The fact that Gordon Tremont had nearly pissed his pants in fear at her mystery man’s appearance told Tally that she’d been right; the two were not acquainted, which meant that her mystery man did work for her father.
Tally had a basic idea of what her mystery man looked like, but the specifics about his features were a mystery. Like the shape of his nose, the set of his eyes, the curve of his ears… Was it wrong that she wanted more than anything to ask him if she could touch him so she would know? To run her fingertips over his face, to feel his breath on her skin, to bring her hands lower to his chest and the muscles she knew she’d find there…
Whoa, she needed to stop that train of thought in its tracks. Immediately. Full stop, Do Not Pass Go. She could not be getting aroused by a man when she didn’t even know his fucking name .
Nope, nope, nope. Not happening. Nope.
Roughly a week after Gordon Tremont’s last visit, a health inspector showed up for a surprise inspection due to an anonymous report of ‘unsanitary cooking conditions’. Thankfully, it was an inspector Tally knew and the walk-through was relatively painless. Thanks to her office now being organized, she even had all the paperwork he required ready to hand over without having to call Simone to find out where it was.
When a food blogger called to ask if she could come in to review Tally’s restaurant, Tally had been thrilled and agreed to the private interview. Tally thought the blogger was impressed and the interview went very well. Unfortunately, what was printed was not so nice. Her signature dish of Marry Me Chicken was called ‘bland’ and ‘unoriginal’ and her in-house bread was ‘stale’ and ‘tasted store bought’.
Tally wanted to cry. She knew not everyone would like her food, but to have such a low review about how The Blind Chef of Atlanta doesn’t live up to her hype…? Yeah, that hurt. That hurt a lot.
The day after the review was published, a retraction was posted, along with an apology to the Blind Chef of Atlanta. The new blog post went on to say that they’d been pressured to leave a bad review and they were ashamed of their lack of integrity. To say Tally was surprised by the rebuttal was an understatement. She was thrilled when she heard the real review, which was phenomenal.
She was choosing to ignore the fact that her mystery man had disappeared nearly the entire afternoon after she’d cried while listening to the original review.