Chapter 14
For the next six weeks, Devon’s progress was erratic.
It didn’t happen in a straight line. But more and more of her vision came back, slowly but steadily.
At first she only saw shapes, and then the blur inside the shapes came clearer.
She saw faces, and sometimes details. Seeing colors clearly took longer.
It was exciting every day to discover what she could see that day.
Her depth perception wasn’t good at first, which made her dizzy and she stumbled, and then that went away too.
And Wendy was at her side every moment. Some of the nurses didn’t like it, but they couldn’t object because she was a legal service dog.
And Devon loved her. She looked like a much smaller version of Thornton, and she wanted to paint her.
She was a noble-looking dog and adored Devon.
By the end of March, Devon could see again. It had taken three months. Brandon continued to visit her until he had to leave to start filming a movie in California, and Wendy was the greatest gift of her life.
Edward was there every day. He hadn’t prayed in years but he had prayed for her.
She had numerous consultations with the doctors, and a long Zoom meeting with the manufacturers of the solution that had blinded her.
They were taking out two of the lethal ingredients before putting it back on the market.
And the doctor at Mass General documented her entire case.
None of them were exactly sure what part of her many treatments had brought her vision back, and they warned her not to overdo it.
“Can I paint now?” she asked Dr. Allen, who was almost as pleased as she was that she could see again.
“Three hours a day, tops,” was his answer.
“If you have no problem between now and June, you can go back to work full-time in the summer.” She and Edward had reorganized her commission schedule.
She was going to do light work until the end of June, go to the Hamptons as she always did in July and August, and take it easy.
And she would start back to her real work on the first of September, or after Labor Day.
Her waiting list was long now with the people who had waited for her. They thought it was worth it.
Edward knew it would be hard for her to limit herself to three hours a day, but she had to. She didn’t want to go blind again, and she had to protect her eyes from the sun and bright lights.
Devon was grateful every day when she woke up that she could see.
She left the hospital exactly three months to the day after she’d arrived, screaming and panicked and blind.
Wendy trotted along beside her, and was fascinated by her new home.
Devon’s private duty nurses had promised to visit her.
They had become friends in the three months they took care of her, and had been her eyes when she had none.
It was the most frightening experience of her life, and she would never take her sight for granted again.
Every color, every object she could see, every face was a gift, as she walked around her home in awe.
And Edward had been the father she never had.
He had come to see her almost every day, and called her daily when she got home.
They had been through an incredible experience together.
Regaining her sight had restored Edward’s faith in the goodness of life, and that good things did happen.
Devon put away her things from the hospital, and tidied up. Her easel was empty, and the paint on it was dry. Her brushes still lay helter-skelter where she had left them the night of the accident. She would wear a shield now when she cleaned them, so not a speck of chemicals could get in her eyes.
She was going through the drawers in her studio, just seeing what was there, when she came across a manila envelope and opened it.
They were the photographs of Charlie on his boat.
She stood looking at them for a long time.
He looked so happy, and they had been so happy.
He was part of history now, and it seemed like a long time ago.
She still thought about him, and missed him at times, but he was as far away now as the people she had loved and lost. She knew she would never see him again and it was okay.
She didn’t expect to, as if Charlie were someone who had died, except that he was in the world somewhere and she wished him well.
She had let him go. She had been through so much since then, it made a broken romance seem so much less important.
Her heart didn’t ache now when she thought of him.
She spread the photographs out on her work table. There were a lot of them, and she had some favorites. And then she had an idea. She had wondered what she would paint for three hours a day. She had canceled Charlie’s portrait, which was what he had wanted from her in the first place.
It didn’t hurt, looking at his photographs now. It felt bittersweet.
Devon dug through her blank canvases to see if she had one the right size.
At first she thought horizontal, and then she thought a tall vertical, a big canvas, with the sails fluttering above him as he stood on deck at the helm, in front of the mast. She found a very big vertical canvas in her storeroom.
She usually used them for very formal portraits.
Older men liked them, or women in ball gowns.
But it seemed just right for the photographs she had of Charlie.
It would take forever to paint a big canvas like that in only three hours a day.
But she had no commissions until September, and if she felt like it, she could take it to the Hamptons and finish it there.
It was an exciting project and she couldn’t wait to paint again.
It seemed funny that she was going to start with a portrait of Charlie.
But why not? She could do whatever she wanted for the next five months before she went back to her real work, and as her eyes continued to rest and heal.
She got up early the next morning and set the canvas on her easel.
She had cleaned her brushes with old-fashioned turpentine the night before.
It was a familiar smell, and reminded her of the Beaux-Arts school in Paris.
And with a cup of coffee beside her, she began sketching and laying down the underlay.
She hadn’t decided on the background yet.
Maybe just the ocean with some whitecaps in a light wind in the distance.
She could almost feel the sea breeze on her face from that day seven months ago.
And as she stood smelling the paints and the turpentine, standing at her easel, mixing the tones for the underlayer, and glancing at the photographs, it felt so good to be back.
And Wendy lay at her feet while she worked. She never left Devon’s side.
—
Charlie had been busy in March too. He had moved out of the big house he and Faye had sold, sent things to storage, sold others, sent Faye what she wanted in Aspen, and put some things in storage for her too, for the condo she was going to buy, her new home away from Aspen.
Working remotely suited her and she liked it. She was tired of going to an office.
He had moved into his new smaller house, which he would share some of the time with Liam. It was immaculately clean, everything looked brand-new, and the things he had brought with him fit perfectly in the new house. It felt meant to be.
He had decided to accept the offer from Texas and sell his business.
Faye was right. It was time. He wanted to make a clean sweep and start fresh.
It took until May to finish the negotiations and sign the deal.
He felt like a free man now that he no longer had a billion-dollar company on his shoulders.
The new owners were going to take it public.
Charlie wanted to start a new company that he could grow and watch thrive.
That was the exciting part for him. He was in love with startups, not the grand dames of business, like banks.
He liked mapping it out and designing it, the way Liam was doing with his gardens.
Liam had almost finished the course in Normandy and was making noises about staying in France.
He hadn’t been back to see the new house yet, but he promised to come that summer.
But Charlie didn’t think Liam had France out of his system yet, and he was still dating the same girl.
Charlie hoped he wouldn’t marry her or get her pregnant.
At twenty-three, Liam was way too young to make a lifetime commitment, or even a long-term one.
Charlie had learned that lesson the hard way.
His divorce was going to be final at the end of June, and when it was, he would be totally unfettered.
He’d be a man without a wife, without a business, without a big house to tie him down, and only a smaller one, although it was very luxurious.
He could go wherever he wanted, and do as he pleased.
It was what he had wanted, and he was happy with his recent decisions, but there was a slightly hollow feel, with no one to share any of it with.
Devon still crossed his mind, and he realized he had made terrible mistakes with her, letting her get away, and he knew he had hurt her badly, and hadn’t forgiven himself for it.
He had learned his lessons at her expense, which was so wrong.
The past few months had freed him—the divorce, the big house, the business.
He should have done all of it a long time ago, but he wasn’t ready.
He hadn’t been ready for Devon either. She had actually lost more and been in better shape.
He blamed himself for being cowardly, for not being brave enough to move forward with her, and he knew he’d always regret it.