Blind, Thick-Headed and Handsome – 26

CJ had so much to do: unpacking, organizing, phone calls, cooking, as well as some laundry that was piling up. Oh, she knew she could probably pay someone to do at least half of those things, but she'd rather not right now. Matt needed his privacy so that he could heal from at least the more visible of his scars. As far as the invisible ones, she knew him well and was certain he wouldn't be down for long.

As Matt continued singing with his new friends, CJ figured she better take the opportunity to enjoy the free, personal performances that were taking place in her living room while she had the chance. But, as she prepared some drinks and snacks for their guests, the phone rang interrupting her plans.

"Hello?"

"CJ, I really hate to bother you right now but … well, Chris and Roy and I thought you should know … " he stammered.

She rolled her eyes, "Just spill, Murray."

"Well, uh … wait, are you standing next to the radio?"

"No."

"Then why do I keep hearing music," he asked thumping his hand against his head.

"Hannah Travis and her lead guitarist are in the next room," she said rather matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Murray responded flatly at first, until he had time to process what she said.

"Wait just a doggone second, CJ. Did you just say …?"

"Yes, you heard right, Murray."

"THE Hannah Travis? International country music superstar, winner of seven Grammies, twelve gold records, not to mention two best-selling books?"

"Yep."

"Well, who's that singing along with her?"

CJ pulled the phone away from her ear and listened a second to confirm.

"That would be our Big Guy."

Murray stammered again.

"HHHouston is a sssinger? Since when?"

She looked at her watch.

"Since about noontime today. Ah, by the way, Murray, what were you about to tell me?"

Dumbfounded and distracted, it took him a moment to reply.

"Ah well … we were doing a little research on Baby about Michael Sheridan and Deborah O'Malley and … "

Her interest increasing, she stepped outside onto her patio holding the phone closer to her ear.

"Go ahead, Murray."

"Well, it seems that Interpol has reported them missing after they both broke out of prison within days of each other. No one has seen them for the past two weeks."

Matt was having such a great time with Hannah and his new guitar that he almost forgot about the stitches which had formerly prevented him from using his upper lip without discomfort. He felt less tug as he widened his lips for some of the notes and realized he was nearing closer and closer to a full recovery. He could have jammed all day but Hannah and Curly Joe had to get ready for another show and bid a fond farewell to Matt and CJ. They weren't sure if their paths would ever cross again.

With their guests gone, CJ couldn't avoid the elephant in the spare bedroom room any further. She'd much rather tackle that than tell Matt about the incident at the grocery store and the phone call from Murray anyway. He didn't need any more stress to deal with than he had already, and what harm would it cause if her husband didn't know about the two things that now plagued her mind?

Trying to put her stress to good use, she sought to organize at least his clothes. She knew that if she could at least accomplish that chore she'd feel a lot better. While she was busy doing that, Matt took the opportunity to practice his new guitar. Every few minutes or so, CJ would walk out into the living room and ask him about a shirt or a tie that seemed ready to meet the saints. He was in such a good mood and trusted her judgment so much that he didn't give her much argument on most of things that she deemed as suspect. By about the fourth trip into the living room, CJ noticed that Matt had drifted off to sleep on the couch, though. Even though she probably could have used his help, she smiled, thinking that only good could possibly come from him resting and maybe she'd get the job done faster if she did it alone.

When Matt awakened several hours later, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling their dryness and figured he must've been out awhile since the house was lit with lamps instead of sunlight.

He headed towards the bathroom in search of his eye drops, but as he went to open the bathroom cabinet, something unusual happened: he caught his reflection in the mirror.

He shook his head and blinked his eyes several times before flipping on the light switch and scaring himself.

"Good God!" he exclaimed softly. Part of him was startled with the way he looked, the other part of him was overjoyed, for there, out of the corner of his left eye, he could see!

He stretched his neck examining his new look, scanning over the abundant stitches that adorned his face and head. He couldn't remember ever seeing his head without hair, let alone his upper lip without a mustache. This was not a nice sight for sore eyes!

Speaking of sights for sore eyes, he had to find CJ. He couldn't wait to actually see her!

After applying his eye drops, he searched briefly and found her in the spare bedroom, sitting on the floor in front of the closet amidst boxes and garbage bags. Normally such a sight wouldn't be so appealing, but this was his wife and a woman whom he hadn't seen in days. He smiled as he gazed at her fondly, melting at her physical beauty.

Call him slow, call him stubborn, but a few things were finally starting to make sense to him. During the past couple of days he heard the gasps and whispers from the people he encountered ever since his accident. All but CJ, that is. He couldn't remember ever hearing any hesitation or negative remarks about his appearance coming from her. Perhaps it was because she had time to get used to his face while he was unconscious and was disciplined enough to not make any comments. Or perhaps it was because she really did love him for more than his looks, his money and his fame. Perhaps she loved him for him. That's why his frightening face wasn't a turnoff for her at all. Any other woman would have kept her distance but not CJ. She was one special lady. How could he have ever been doubtful?

"Watcha doin', CJ?" he asked as she rose from her spot on the floor.

She thought it was obvious, but refrained from barking back at him. After all, he was blind.

"Ah, trying to get some order," she said brushing past him, unaware of his expression as she headed straight for the other bedroom closet.

"Did you have a nice nap?" she asked as she returned to the room. He placed his hands on her shoulders, immediately feeling the tension in her upper body.

"Come here, CJ."

"Matt, I'm in the middle of …" she started to say, her words interrupted as soon as she felt his strong hands work their magic. "Ooh, that feels good."

He led her to sit on the edge of the bed so that he could get give her the other kind of pleasure a woman loved from a man: a back rub. He marveled at the simple act of being able to touch and see her … this woman who had been the perfect companion for most of his life and who obviously loved him much more then he could ever comprehend.

For a moment CJ forgot all about the pile of clothes, the phone calls, and all the assorted things on her to-do list, but it was only for a moment. With the other disturbing events of the day still on her mind, she found she couldn't relax too much.

"Can you help me move that box?"

"Sure," he responded, realizing that his wife must really have her mind set: she still hadn't noticed anything different about him. So maybe in the meantime, he'd have a little fun.

"There ya go. Okay, well, if you don't need me anymore, I thought I'd take a drive to the shooting range and practice a few rounds. Care to join me?"

"Oh, that sounds nice but I'll never get everything done if I do. Do you still want this old shirt?"

Sigh. His wife could have such a one-track mind at times.

Feeling temporarily defeated, he felt his hand along the fabric of the shirt and shook his head 'no.' She darted back to the master bedroom with another armful of clothes, barely squeezing them in between the hangers and realizing that she would have to sort through some of her stuff as well. First to go was her blue v-neck sweater with the white trim, then her red sweater with the funky shoulder pads.

He wasn't giving up.

"Hey, CJ, what's for dinner?"

Oh, great, she thought. Now he wants dinner!

"What time is it?"

He picked up the clock off the nightstand and focused his eye until he could make out the numbers.

"The clock says 5:14."

"5:14," she confirmed, still not realizing that he read it with his own eyes.

"Yep. Oh, actually it's 5:15 now."

And still she hadn't noticed. He had one trick left up his sleeve.

She started out of the bedroom but he blocked her path in the doorway, giving her no choice but to look at him.

"Hey gorgeous," he said with a Cheshire Cat smile.

She was about to ask him to move out of her way when she finally sensed there was something different about him, and different in a good way.

She took a few moments, trying to ascertain why he looked so happy, and then as she looked him directly in the eyes she began to realize … no wait … was it too soon - too soon for his eyes to heal and even more so – too soon to get her hopes up?

"Matt? You can see?" she dared to ask.

He nodded.

"You can!" she exclaimed as she dropped everything she was carrying and brought her arms around him, squeezing him so hard he almost couldn't breathe.

"Just a little bit ... out of the corner of my left eye," he managed to say with his lungs compressed by her grip.

Realizing she was smothering him, she relaxed her grasped hands from around his neck as he gently kissed her lips.

"And you can smile! You can kiss!"

"Uh huh," he happily acknowledged with another kiss, trying to avoid letting his abrasive face brush against her tender skin.

"How long have you …?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for the last ten minutes!"

As if that was a long time: CJ had been trying to get his attention for the last few years!

She fired right back.

"Well, now you know how it feels, Hubby!"

"Yeah? And you're gonna know how something else feels as soon as you get on the bed, Wifey!"

Oh, she would be glad to obey his orders, especially after waiting several days for number 52, but a commotion coming from outside grabbed her attention.

"What is going on out front?" she asked as she started for the living room.