Page 7 of Flying Blind

“Hm. A pretty good idea, actually. For those video games she is always going on about?”

“Yes. I can’t just cover my eyes and pretend everything is fine.”

“Of course not. What else did she say?”

“Since I can’t fix it, to have fun with it.”

Emma chuckled. “Well, that took a lot of strength from her and a lot of courage.”

Zara clenched her jaw. “Why? She wasn’t the one blinded.”

“No, she bumped into an alpha and now has agonizing scales spreading across her body. There is no part of her that hasn’t been affected by the changes, and it is quite common to see her weeping or wincing, and then she pulls herself together and pastes a smile on and tries to help others.”

“Oh. Now I feel bad.”

“No reason for it. She has her pain; you have yours. Comparing isn’t fair to either of you. She tries to look past the pain to what could happen later. You are still in the early stages.” Emma patted her leg.

Zara swallowed. “Where would I get lace to cover my eyes when the bandages are done?”

“Well, that sounds like a trip to the fabric shop. Did you want to come along and choose another dessert? Some of the ladies brought cookies and squares.”

“Already? I thought I would have a few days to have things brought to me.”

“Nope. Right into the deep end. Come on.” Emma stood and took Zara by the hand. It was time to start learning how to do things herself. No time to wallow.

The ladies of the Book Club had been in rough positions, and they just helped each other through it. It was astonishing to be around all these women. They took lessons from their lives and made sure that things didn’t repeat the same cycle.

Zara lifted her chin and tried to feel the difference between a chocolate chip cookie and a monster cookie. One thing at a time.

Two weeks after the first meeting, Zara was in the kitchen after her braille homework, baking cookies by tasting ingredients. She smiled as she heard Emma walk into the house. “How was your visit with your grandson?”

“Randolph was his normal polite self. He asked me if I needed anything, offered to do the lawn for me, and asked me what all the rakes were doing in the backyard.”

Zara stirred, moved slowly to the cookie sheets lined with parchment, and made a ball of dough before patting it down. She worked her way through the tray, wiped her hands, and put the tray in the oven. She spoke to her phone. “Set alarm for eight minutes.”

The phone repeated it, and she smiled at Emma. “You didn’t tell him that the backyard has been turned into an obstacle course for me?”

“None of his business. I don’t want him in here chatting at you and distracting you. He’s a good-looking fella and can charm the pants off anyone.”

“Um, good-looking is not really a concern, Emma. Was he in the house? I didn’t even hear anything.”

“You didn’t? He and I spoke in the dining room before we went outside to have a visit. He was looking right at you.”

Zara took the dishes to the sink carefully and started to run the water. “I didn’t sense anything.”

“How odd. I am going to consult with Luna on that. Your senses have been expanding gradually, and he was well inside your perimeter. Maybe because he was male?”

“No. I have been keeping an eye on the mailman, and I can sense males in the grocery store and on the street. Maybe it’s something he is doing?”

“He was perfectly visible to me.”

“Visible isn’t my concern. I just had no idea he was here.” She washed the dishes and set them on the drain board. There was a lot of patting and touching and verifying that she had gotten all the ingredients out of the bowl, but Emma was a hard taskmaster, and it was giving Zara confidence in her everyday motions to be able to do something as simple as making cookies. It took her three tries to get the right ingredients together, and Emma didn’t help. Emma made her eat every cookie, which incentivized her like nothing else. The baking soda and baking powder mix-up wasn’t as bad as the salt-sugar debacle. From there, the shortening and butter confusion was very edible.

She got her oven mitts ready, and when the timer went off, she spoke to mute it and made sure that her phone wasn’t next to the spot where she was going to put the hot pan. She got the pan out and set the cookies down. She inhaled. They smelled right, but now they had to wait.

Emma walked toward her. “Those look lovely and smell amazing. Are you bringing some to Book Club on Tuesday?”

“We have to taste test some first.” She set the alarm for ten minutes.

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