Page 15 of A Sight to Behold
There was no doubt that Wendy had a knack for discerning his moods. He knew then that hiding his inner turmoil was futile. The fear probably etched on his face, the tension in his shoulders, the restlessness in his fingers as they traced the contours of the letter—he might as well have been an open book.
“Why are you not pleased?” she asked, her voice soft yet steady, cutting through the heavy missive in the letter he still held. In that moment, Nick found comfort in Wendy’s knowing eyes, a testament to their bond. They were siblings, but above all, they were allies in an often-overwhelming world.
“I haven’t seen him since… you know…” Nick was so ashamed of himself that he dared not look at Wendy. She’d been too young but probably remembered.
“For an eye surgeon, one might think you’d be more comfortable around a blind man.”
“Not this one.”
“Nick,” Wendy took a deep breath. “You can’t fix them all. How many soldiers have you operated on and helped? How many elderly people have you blessed with vision after they’d nearly lost it?”
“It’s not the same, Wendy.”
“That’s right! It’s different every time. And yet, you always help your patients.”
“Lance is not my patient; he never was. He’s my friend, and I failed him.”
“Perhaps that’s his problem, Nick. It’s too personal for you.”
“Wendy, he went blind so young; it’s not a cataract. Older people get them. I can’t do anything for him.”
“Yes, I know. Like Baron Melbourne. He’s what, sixty-eight?”
“Exactly.”
“And the Dowager Countess Greenborough last week. She sent a message but in her hand.” Wendy gave a gentle smile, and her eyes glistened. “She’s seventy?”
“I know what you’re doing, little sister. It’s not working.”
“That’s what you said when the Marquess of Hastings came a few months ago. And he just wrote another treatise. His vision is better than ever; he said so himself! And he’s forty-two.”
“W-eee-nnnn-dyyyy…” He drew out her name in a long warning breath.
“Don’t Wendy me, Nick! I can’t even count how many people you’ve helped. This month alone, we had Lady Margaret, Viscountess Cunningham, Sir James Framingham, and Lord Yates.”
Nick inhaled. It felt good to hear the names of this month’s patients. Wendy had an impeccable memory, of course, and even listed the cataract surgeries that he’d performed.
“But you didn’t even charge for the butcher’s wife and her sister, Nick. I know you didn’t. You help far more people—”
“You also well know that they can’t afford me.”
“And you told them they couldn’t afford not to see their daughter’s wedding. The butcher and his wife said she’s pleased with her new husband, and they saw it happen because of you.”
“Glad to hear—”
“Oh, Nick, please! You wanted the mother and aunt to see their little girl grown up at the altar as a bride.”
“A mother needs to see that.”
Wendy smiled like Socrates, who wanted the student to conclude that which she’d prepared long ago. “Did you consider that Lance might miss you? All of us?”
“No. Because even if he comes, he can’t see us.”
“When he comes,” Wendy said, “he’ll come to be with his friends. Whether he sees us or not, he still has our friendship. Doesn’t he?”
“Of course, he does.” Nick waved the hidden reproach off.
“Then it’s time to let him know. Show him.”
