One Glance

Chapter 3

"The way you think about yourself determines your reality. You are not being hurt by the way people think about you. Many of those people are a reflection of how you think about yourself." Shannon L. Alder

---  

Chapter Three

Luke had been momentarily comforted by the sound of Isabella's voice. It was such a nice sound to hear after months of incessant frustration.

But then he had heard her tone of voice. She had only said his name, but her tone told him perfectly what she was thinking. She felt sorry for him. She was frowning sadly.

Luke did not want Isabella to feel sorry for him. He did not want her to see him looking like a newborn fawn, stumbling about and looking like a fool, relying on a nurse to help him perform basic daily activities.

Luke knew that Isabella would gladly perform Mary's duties as nurse. She had a sweet heart. But he could not let her do that. He did not want Isabella to take care of him. He was the one who was supposed to take care of her.

The fact that he was paying Mary to be his nurse made it acceptable to him.

Luke held his arm out in front of him as he walked, as though he were expecting a wall to appear in front of him, even though Mary was leading him. It was so daunting, so frightening, to put one foot in front of the other when he did not know where he was walking.

Of course, he knew the layout of his childhood home fairly well, but it had been many years since he had walked these halls.

"Can she see me?" Luke asked Mary warily. He did not want anyone seeing him reaching out into thin air like he was.

"No, Captain," replied Mary.

"You did not need to be so harsh with her," Matthew scolded him.

Luke had momentarily forgotten that his brother was walking with them. He did believe that his hearing had improved in the last few months, but it still startled him when someone did not announce themselves.

"I know," Luke replied. "But Isabella is my wife. She is not my nurse. It needs to stay that way."

Luke would never be able to look Isabella in the eye if she had to help him button his shirt in the mornings. Luke nearly laughed. What a joke. He would never be able to look her in the eye anyway.

He could not look his wife in the eye because he had been hit in the eye by a bloody splinter.

Luke then asked a question that he was afraid to know the answer to. "Was she holding him? Was she holding Jamie?" Had he been in the presence of his son? Had he been mere inches away from his son without knowing it? Had this damned blindness cost him his first moments with his son? Was his son's first memory of him been one where his naval hero father turned out to be nothing more than a blind buffoon?

"Mrs Cassidy was holding a child when we arrived, Captain," Mary informed him.

"But Isabella gave him to Mother so that she could help you. Or try to help you," Matthew added. "Jamie was not there when you rudely rebuffed his mother's help."

Luke scowled in the direction of his brother's voice. For all he knew, he could have been glaring at a wall. "You do not get to judge my choices, brother. Show Mary where my bedroom is and then go back downstairs to see your children and to see your wife."

Luke could hear Matthew exhale in a way that told him he was shaking his head. Matthew opened a door and Luke walked with Mary towards the sound of the hinges squeaking slightly.