Chapter Twelve

Dinner was over with for the evening. It had been a stilted affair, with Woody not talking much and Jordan hesitant to push him into a discussion. Whether he was still frustrated from his visit at the doctor's office or frustrated with the fact that she wasn't Devan, Jordan had no clear idea. She nearly mentioned calling Devan to Woody, just to see if that would lighten his attitude a little.

She had no opportunity. As soon as dinner was over, he had pushed back from the table and announced he was going to bed. He had went into the bedroom, and found his sleep pants and t-shirt, when he heard a tentative knock at the doorway. "Yeah?" he asked.

"I need to put your eye drops in," Jordan said, her voice just as tentative as her knock.

Sighing, Woody sat heavily down on the bed. "Come on...get it over with."

Jordan didn't know what to make of his sudden switch in moods again. When they had gotten home from the park, he had been in better state of mind...nearly happy. After his nap, he had woken up sullen again...being short with her. She knew the doctor's report wasn't everything Woody had hoped for, but still, that was not a reason to keep biting her head off. Neither was it her fault she wasn't Devan. She didn't run out on Woody. Devan did. And if he was missing her that badly, maybe he should fly out to Paris to be with Devan instead of staying in Boston with her.

"Jordan?" he asked. He didn't know where she was because she had made no move from the doorway yet.

"Coming." She walked over to where he was sitting on the side of the bed. She removed his glasses and tilted his head back and gently began to drop the medicine in his eyes. She was so concentrated on her task, she had no idea of where it placed her body in relation to Woody's. However he was more than aware, with his other senses heightened from his lack of sight.

He felt her leg brush against his thigh and her breast brush against his shoulder as she leaned over to administer the eye drops, one hand holding the medicine and the other one cradling his head. Woody could feel himself losing it, she was this close...then he felt her shift to do the other side, repeating the motions. Something in his blind eyes must have given his emotions away, because when she was through, she made to quickly pull away from him.

His hands on her waist stopped her. "Don't go," he whispered. "Please."

"Woody, I don't think this is a good idea..." her voice trailed off as he pulled her across him, so one leg was on either side of his body and she was nearly sitting on his lap, facing him.

"Why not?" he asked, pulling her down to him closer, so that their faces were nearly eye level.

"Because...you've been sick....and you're still hurt..."

"I'm better...now..." He tugged her face down and brushed her lips with his.

And for a moment she gave into him...allowed him to kiss her and hold her there, knowing she had been wanting this for a long time. Then it hit her. He was using her as a substitute for Devan. Some of his frustrations may be physical...but some were probably sexual, too. "No," she said and pushed away.

"Jordan?"

"No. I know you're tired of being blind...I know you're tired and frustrated. But I can't help you...not in this area, Woody. I'm sorry. I'm not Devan." She pulled away and went back to the kitchen. And he lay down, wondering the hell had happened and why did he do what he just did?

She went back into the kitchen and cleaned up the dinner dishes, wishing there was some way she could go back in time, to recapture his mood when he first came home with her. She had loved their joking...the banter...the friendship they had rekindled.

But somewhere along the way it had soured. She knew Dr. Little had warned her things would get worse...even worse than they were right now. She sighed. She didn't know if she could handle worse. In one way she was glad she had to go back to work at the end of this week. It would get her out of the apartment for at least a while. She still wasn't quite sure what she was going to do with Woody. Suddenly, she had much more sympathy for the moms at work who had daycare problems. She was just now beginning to feel their pain. She wasn't sure what "daycare" she could find for Woody.

She walked into the bathroom to get ready for bed, still musing over what had happened between them. She had wanted his kisses. She had longed for his touch for days. Despite the fact that she always got in the bed with her back to his, she always ended up in his arms. He would hold her closely at night, pulled tightly against him, his arm around her waist. It would always end in the mornings when she would carefully extract herself, allowing him a few more minutes of rest. And he would go out of his way not to touch her again the rest of the day.

She paused before she climbed into her bed, gazing at him as the lights from the buildings outside flickered in her windows. She wasn't sure when his eyes would get better. She wasn't even sure if they would. There were a few things she was sure of, though. First, was that she would take care of him. For however long it took, or however long he wanted her to. Second, she knew she loved him...and would take him blind or seeing. He may not know that. He may not like it. Hell, he may not even agree to it. He was a proud and stubborn man...just as hard headed as she was. Which led her to the third issue she knew they would have to discuss...if he didn't get better, if his eyesight didn't return...there was no way in hell she was going to let him out of Boston. He may have come from Wisconsin, but he came with a one way ticket and there was no way he was going back....returning Kewuanee was out of the question.