Together (17 page)

Things began
to smooth out when Gus realized that Nelson clearly knew his place in the pack
as the new dog and understood perfectly that Gus had to be the leader. Once
this was established, an amazing friendship quickly developed. In fact, ten
days or so after Brenden came home, the two animals stopped trying to sleep on
his bed but lay next to each other head-to-head on the soft doggy bed Mora
brought home for them to share. They even learned to eat side by side without
trying to take the other's food, and when Gus sat in Brenden's father's chair
during dinner, Nelson was content to lie at its base. Both of them seemed to
feel an integral part of the family unit, giving the impression that they were
sharing in the evening's conversation.

Mora did not
press Brenden for details of his homecoming with Lindsey. She was surprised
when a taxi arrived late that evening and her son staggered in, steadied by the
black dog's careful guiding.

Brenden had
slept the deep sleep of a young man who needed it, and when he came downstairs
late the next morning, Mora felt that she simply should not ask him any
questions. Nor did Brenden offer any information, but she noticed that he was
remarkably quiet and turned inward.

For his part,
Brenden understood that the big dog had saved him from himself: a debt he could
never repay. He found that he was taking stock of himself, as it were, adding
up the inventory of his life—what it was all truly worth.

Mora watched
him playing with the dogs in the yard and listened to his conversations with
Charlie. She believed that her son had turned the corner and was beginning to
develop the mechanisms necessary to cope with blindness and with life. She also
was pleased to see that he had once again resumed physical fitness. He spent
hours in the garage lifting weights and riding a stationary bike, working to
regain his muscle tone and physical well-being. She was even more pleased when
after his first week at home he told her that he would return to the rehab program
in order to enhance his computer skills.

"They've
got a lot of stuff for the blind, Mom," he said, using the word
blind
in an easy manner.
"There's voice actuation for almost everything. I don't really think I'll
have to learn Braille, except maybe to write out labels for my clothes or food
or anything else I might need to identify when I move into my own
apartment."

Now, that sounds great,
Mora thought.
He's already thinking about the transition to
independence.

"Thank
you, God," she said, remembering to offer up a prayer. "Thanks for
helping Brenden begin to see the road back."

Lindsey made call after
call,
trying
to get Brenden to talk to her. The messages she left became more and more
imploring and emotional, but Brenden responded to none of them. She wondered if
she should simply show up at his house and demand to see him, break down the
door if she had to. But something stopped her. What was it? Was it possible
that he had no interest in continuing their relationship? Deep down inside she
didn't believe that could be true. She was Lindsey

Reynolds—smart,
sexy, beautiful Lindsey Reynolds. She could make a young man do anything if she
wanted it enough.

What she had
to face after ten days of crying and agonizing was that she really only wanted
Brenden to forgive her. She couldn't stand the guilt, and a word of forgiveness
would shut down the relentless voice of her conscience. But she finally shut up
that voice by acknowledging that it was all for the best. In truth, she
realized that she didn't want to marry anyone with a disability. That was the
reality that finally stopped her from attempting any more personal contact with
Brenden.

Brenden also thought
about their
relationship and came to his own surprising conclusions. Lindsey had been a trophy,
he decided. A trophy that really mattered when he could watch other men envy
him. Their relationship had been, for the most part, physical and vapid. They
had not really shared intimacy, not in the adult way he had seen intimacy
shared between his father and mother, not in the way he had heard it expressed
when Counselor Barnes discussed his marriage. Lindsey and Brenden probably
wouldn't have made it anyway, even if fate had not taken his sight.

In the end, there's always a plan for our lives,
he
thought.
The secret was to have faith and read the signs God placed
in one's way. Had Barnes been right? Could every disadvantage be turned into an
advantage if you were willing to investigate all of the possibilities?

"Well,"
he decided, patting Nelson's head on a beautiful

Colorado
morning after a big breakfast his mother made for him, "I suppose it's
time to find out."

Brenden could
tell that counselor Marvin Barnes was delighted to get his phone call. He held
the phone at least two feet from his ear to avoid going Helen Keller when the
big man's voice came booming down the line.

"Well,
young Brenden McCarthy. So you've been to the guide dog school and brought home
a pooch? Good for you. Good for you. I've thought about having one of those
myself, but my wife loves cats. We have two of them, Persians, you know, very
communicative animals. And with this knee, even though I can ski pretty well, I
don't do that much walking, so I figured a dog might be a waste. But I'm
looking forward to meeting your Nelson. When are you coming in to visit
me?" Barnes went on without giving Brenden a chance to avoid the appointment.
"Tomorrow at two o'clock. That'll be great, right, kid? You remember where
it is—the office at the end of the hall."

Before
Brenden could say anything, Barnes hung up. Brenden chuckled to himself as he
replaced the receiver. "I guess he thought I might get cold feet and look
for a chance to get out of seeing him. He could have been a great insurance
salesman. He's a heck of a closer."

The next day
Brenden took a cab to Barnes's office and also got directions to take the light
rail home after the meeting.

"I'll
call you when I get close to the house, Mom," he said, walking out the
front door with Nelson guiding him purposely. "I'll call you after my
meeting, and you can meet me at the train."

Mora couldn't
help it. Her throat tightened as she watched her handsome son step through the
door and begin to navigate his way back into the real world. She continued to
watch as the young man and the dog moved down the front walk and found the door
of the taxi.

"For the
first time I'm feeling hope," she told herself, "real hope."

When Bad News Barnes
greeted
Brenden with a crushing handshake and a bear hug, Nelson grew protective and
pushed himself between the two men, not growling, but warning the ex-Denver
Bronco that the dog was responsible for his master.

Barnes
registered the information and chuckled. "Looks like you're never going to
have to worry about a fight in a bar as long as you have that big fella with
you," he said. "I know he's new, but it seems that the two of you are
already pretty tight."

"My
trainer said that would happen," Brenden explained. "The work does
it. I mean, the dog has a purpose and you have a purpose. You kind of need each
other."

Barnes banged
his hand down on the desk. "Isn't that what I told you, kid? I told you
that there was independence, dependence, and interdependence, and that life
would start to take shape when you understood that idea. I don't know of a
better example than what goes on between blind people and their dogs."

Brenden was
surprised at what came next, surprised that he expressed such a deeply personal
thought. "So, this interdependence you talk about, is that how real love
is expressed between people?"

Barnes sat
back in his chair. "You got that right, Brenden," he said.
"Interdependence carries with it the concept of sacrifice: one person
giving to the other without reservation or hesitation and doing it out of love.
People can seem to be in love, giving all the right impressions, but still be
selfish. To love selflessly is a constant, quiet kind of thing. It's our
greatest gift. In the end it's what brings us the most satisfaction in life.
You see it every day with Nelson. He's your best example.

"So, now
that you've got this big spanking new animal to take care of you, how are you
going to take care of yourself? Where do you want to live? And more importantly,
how do you want to pay your rent?"

"I don't
know," Brenden said. "I think I told you that I was just beginning my
internship as a medical doctor and that I thought I was going to be the next
world-class orthopedic surgeon. But now I just don't know."

Barnes
thought about it. "Didn't you tell me that you did your premed work with
an education minor? What about teaching? Biology or chemistry or something like
that?"

"I don't
know," Brenden said. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a teacher. I
don't have that kind of patience."

"Okay,"
Barnes said, scratching his head. "What about research? Something in the
scientific field? Did you like science enough to give that a try?"

"No! Not
really," Brenden told him, laughing. "Sure, I got through the science
courses—all the chemistry and stuff—but it was really only to go to med school.
I don't think I ever would want to spend my time in a lab, and anyway, I might
have trouble mixing up the formulas. You know, pouring dangerous acids into
test tubes."

Now Barnes
laughed. "You know what, Brenden? You're well on the way to good health
because at least you're beginning to develop a sense of humor."

The young man
smiled. "I suppose if you can't laugh at yourself, you can't laugh at
anything."

"You got
that right," Barnes said. "Humor is the best medicine there is."
The big man drummed his fingers on his desk. "Look, Brenden, it might be
too early to suggest this, but what about using your medical degree as a
practicing doctor?"

"What do
you mean?"

"I mean,
finishing your internship and then doing your residency in psychiatry. As a
psychiatrist, you'll be working with other people who lose their sight along
the way, or," he quickly put in, "anyone who has problems to deal
with. It seems to me you already have the most important element in
place."

"What's
that?"

"Empathy,"
Barnes said. "I think you're one of those guys who would be very
empathetic when it comes to thinking about the problems of other people."

Brenden sat
back for a minute, listening to the clock as he thought about it.

"I
suppose I could finish my internship and then look into the possibility of
doing a psychiatric residency somewhere."

Barnes leaned
forward, enthused. "That might be terrific, Brenden," he said.
"I'd be happy to help you. I know everybody that's anybody in the field,
at least anybody in Colorado. You could probably do your residency right here
in Denver, at the CU Health Sciences Center. Their psychiatry division is excellent,
and the guy who runs the department is a poker buddy of mine. Actually, he's
not too happy with me because he thinks I cheat when we use Braille cards, but
that's his problem. Would you like me to call him and set up an
appointment?"

Brenden felt
the excitement in his stomach.

"Yeah,
yeah, I really would, Mr. Barnes. Please give him a call."

"On one
condition, kid," Barnes said.

"What's
that?"

"That
you stop calling me Mr. Barnes. It's Marvin or Bad News or Mr. B, okay?"

"Okay,
Mr. B," Brenden said, remembering that was what the man's secretary called
him during their first meeting.

"Good,"
Barnes said. "Good. I'll make that call and set up your appointment. Oh,
listen," he said, remembering something, "I had a little conversation
with my friend, Hal O'Leary. Remember I told you about him? He's the guy that
created skiing for the disabled up there in Winter Park, where I go every
weekend. They say we're going to get a big dump of Colorado powder in the next
couple of days. You want to take a trip up there with me? My wife will drive
us. Edna doesn't ski, and she really doesn't like snow very much, but she
enjoys—what do you call it? The ambiance of the whole thing. What do you say?
You want to try it?"

Things are really happening fast
, Brenden thought.
Maybe
too fast,
but he found himself compelled to say, "Yeah, I'll go up there with you
and see what happens."