Hearts Divided (Cedar Cove #5.5)(73)

“And that’s after increasing the magnification of her reading glasses to the strongest she can buy at the market. She listens to the radio, and listens to, but doesn’t watch, TV.”

“You said she might not see the colors you’ve chosen.”

“I’m not sure she sees color at all anymore. When she showed me the hatboxes you painted, she was dismayed that they’d faded despite the lacquer finish.”

“They haven’t faded.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Elizabeth searched her memory for what else she’d observed since her arrival. “She uses the railing to go up and down stairs. And she was very eager to turn the letter-scanning project over to me. And equally eager not to be here when you showed me the color schemes. And last night, while we were sitting at the kitchen table, she got up a couple of times to flip a light switch.”

“Only to discover the light was already on.”

“All the lights were on. The kitchen was bright.”

“Her world may be very dark.”

“A visual darkness,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully, “that makes sense to her, feels appropriate to her, given the emotional darkness of losing Granddad. Not being able to see must make that loss, and the prospect of her life after Granddad, seem even more hopeless. But it was her idea, she said, to have you paint the house.”

“The outside.”

“The gold that guided Granddad home after the war. She wants him to see the glow from wherever he is—even though she can’t.” Elizabeth saw a glow then. Or believed she did. A glitter of wanting, of longing, in his solemn gray eyes. In a flicker it was gone. Its impact left her momentarily confused. She forced the moment, and the confusion away. “Gram needs to see an ophthalmologist.”

“She has an appointment for eleven on Wednesday morning. I made it once I figured out what was going on. I called Charles’s neurologist at the Clinic and asked who he’d recommend. Next Wednesday was the earliest opening, but the timing was good. I didn’t want to talk to her about her vision until after you and Matthew had come and gone, and I knew that beginning today I’d be here all the time. My plan was to show her the color schemes I’d chosen…”

“And to gently, patiently, point out to her what she couldn’t see.”

“Something like that. She knows her vision is failing. She just doesn’t know there’s a chance it can be improved. I’m expecting resistance to the idea of seeing an ophthalmologist.”

“Eye surgery is daunting, even for an intrepid climber of trees. She’s been in such wonderful health all her life. As far as I know, she’s never had surgery of any kind.”

“Daunting,” Nick agreed. “And not without risk—assuming my diagnosis is even correct.”

Elizabeth was certain it was, that his research had been thorough, his conclusions sound. And if she asked him whether he happened to be an ophthalmologist, she could predict his stern reply.

No, Elizabeth, I’m a handyman.

“They’re just old,” Gram said when Nick and Elizabeth raised the issue of her eyesight. “I’m just old.”

“You’re not old, Gram, and once your vision’s restored to what it can be, you’ll be as active as ever. Not being able to see has gotten in your way. You would’ve gone on the cruise to Victoria with Helen and Winifred, you know you would have, if you hadn’t felt uncomfortable about making the trip from Sarah’s Orchard to Seattle. The thought of trying to read signs in airports, and finding your way in unfamiliar places in what felt like darkness…don’t you think that influenced your decision not to go?”

“I don’t know, Elizabeth. Since Granddad died, everything’s been difficult.”

“Of course it has, Clara,” Nick said. “The loss is immense. But that’s all the more reason to fix what can be fixed.”

“The two of you spent the afternoon rehearsing your pitch, didn’t you? I feel like I’m in the middle of one of those interventions.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Maybe we rehearsed a little, Gram. Is it working? If not, we have reams of information downloaded from the Internet that we’re prepared to read aloud to you.”

“You’re dear things, both of you. And I’m very grateful for your concern. But—”

“You could at least have an ophthalmologist do an exam. Cataracts or not, having your eyes checked is a good idea.”

“I’m not going to have an exam unless I’d be willing to have surgery if something was found. I’m all right the way I am. I’m getting along fine. I see the two of you quite well. And you’re both gorgeous.”

“Just think how much more gorgeous we’d be, Gram, not to mention how colorful.”

“Nice try, Elizabeth. But it’s really my decision, isn’t it?”

“Entirely your decision,” Nick said. “Just promise us that you’ll consider it.”

“I promise. Now, can we please talk about something else?”

An hour later, Nick announced he was going home to get a good night’s rest before the painting project that would commence the following day.

Elizabeth walked him to the porch.

“What do you think?”

“That she’s her granddaughter’s grandmother.”