CHAPTER FOUR

Dr. Svenson flipped through a medical journal nervously, barely able to focus on the page. Beside him, Gillian slept peacefully in the small recovery room. There was no telling what would happen. Perhaps her eyes would also be perfectly normal. Perhaps there was no such thing as perfectly normal when it comes to witch’s organs.

For example, if this were a normal donor and a normal operation, Dr. Svenson would not be waiting for the patient to wake up. The anesthesia and general trauma of the surgery would have knocked her out for twelve to twenty-four hours. But he suspected an extraordinarily rapid recovery. He was right.

Gillian was sleeping on her side, facing the doctor. As she came to consciousness, he was her first sight. His face was quite familiar to her. Her sight was just beginning to dim when they’d met, and she well remembered his features. But what was this strange glow around him? Were they using specially colored light bulbs in this room?

Dr. Svenson could tell from the movement of her body that Gillian was awake. “I see that you’re up. You’re feeling okay, yes? But we must not rush things. We should probably wait until tomorrow until we take off the bandages.”

Bandages? Gillian’s hands flew to her eyes. Bandages! Large bandages covered both eyes tightly. Where they some kind of newfangled see-through bandages?

“Dr. Svenson, I can see you. I can see this room. I can see this hospital room. What kind of bandages are these that I can see through them?”

The doctor was completely taken aback. This could not be possible. “Perhaps you are imagining what you think you are surrounded by.”

“You’re reading a magazine called The Journal of Transplant Science. I can see, Dr. Svenson. I can see.”

“Then let us take off your bandages. And then we will see the situation.”

“Quickly. I want to see everything.”

The doctor complied. Underneath the bandages, he found that Gillian’s eyes were still closed.

“Oh, my God. I can see so much more now. But is this some kind of x-ray room?”

Gillian was starting to feel very unsettled. She could see the doctor’s shirt beneath his medical jacket. And his undershirt beneath that. Oh, no—and his boxers!

“Gillian. Open your eyes.”

“They are open.”

“They’re not. They’re closed. Open your eyes.”

How could she see if her eyes were closed? But when she reached out to touch them, she found out that the doctor was right. How? And then she willed them to open. Immediately, a kaleidoscope of images came flying at her, colors pulsing and swirling around the doctor. And his head! She could now see his skull, his tongue, his brain. And as she scanned down his body, she saw his full skeleton, his organs, his veins, his huge heart pumping. It was as if she was witnessing an autopsy or an operation. But it was impossible. And it was terrifying. What was happening?

As she glanced beyond him, she was continually bombarded with frightening, unreal images. She could see what was happening in the adjoining exam rooms. She could see people passing back and forth in the hallway outside. Really see them—faces, uniforms, wheelchairs. The patient next door was a sixty-something woman in a blue hospital gown picking distastefully through her turkey and mashed potato lunch. Gillian felt faint.

The doctor held her by the shoulders. “What do you see?”

“I see the people who are eating in the next room. I see your bones, your lungs, everything that’s inside you.”

“You are perhaps hallucinating.”

“Your boxers have tiny blue hearts on them.”

The doctor staggered back into his seat in shock. After a moment, he mumbled, “They were a Christmas gift.”

“It’s . . . it’s kind of wonderful to be able to see again. But I don’t want to see this much. Tell me, what is happening to me?”

He knew that one day, he would have to explain to Gillian that she had received the eyes of a witch. But that day would have to be now.

“Your donor was Lilith Hazelwood. Do you recognize that name?”

“I know who she is. She’s lived in Oyster Cove forever, hasn’t she? I mean, since I was a little kid.”

“Perhaps you did not know that she was a witch.”

“People are always talking about witches. But I don’t really believe in them.”

“You have some other way to explain why you can now see through walls? You have a witch’s eyes. And perhaps I should have told you before the operation. Perhaps I should have gotten you permission. But I knew there would be fear, and I did not want you to miss out on this. Because the alternative was a lifetime of blindness. I hope you will come to forgive the deception. I could see that you were completely hiding from the world. I wanted to bring you back into it.”

“But not like this. How am I supposed to live like this?”

The doctor held out his hand to her. “There is someone who can help.”

*****

Oyster Cove’s witch population was not large, only some four dozen members. Delphine was one who had the greatest interaction with commoners, a.k.a. humans, as well as the strongest empathy for them. Heck, she even had a gentleman friend in Atlantic City whom she had visited regularly for the past fifteen years. He had no idea she was a witch. And they had such a wonderful time together, she sure didn’t see any reason to disturb the status quo.

She also had the dubious distinction of being Lilith Hazelwood’s primary living contact. The two witches had not been friends. Lilith had, in fact, disdained the company of her fellow witches. Their powers were so vastly inferior to hers that she saw no benefit to herself from any association with them.

But, for better or worse, one of Delphine’s great talents was to see and converse with the dead, which meant putting up with Lilith’s rants and demands. The dead witch expected Delphine to act as a liaison between herself and the organ donor recipients.

It was not an enviable role. She was not entirely on board with Lilith’s mission of vengeance. But something or someone had killed the most powerful witch in town, and Delphine recognized that posed a danger to the entire witch community. There, she and Lilith were somewhat on the same page.

As for the organ recipients, they were strangers to the witch community and rather estranged from their former lives as sick or weak commoners, and gosh darn, she just felt a bit sorry for them.

She and Dr. Svenson had a wary partnership of sorts. They were the only two people in town who knew the exact whereabouts of Lilith’s organs as they were doled out, one by one.

She ran a jewelry boutique and was one of the area’s most popular artists. Dr. Svenson gently pulled a frightened Gillian into the store. He had told her that they were going to speak to a witch. But the stress of contending with her new bizarrely distorted vision felt like more than she could handle. She certainly didn’t want to meet a scary witch.

Dr. Svenson had never been in Delphine’s store before. Hmm . . . lovely selection. Full of gemstones, in mesmerizing shapes and combinations of color. He really ought to make a point of stopping by, come next holiday season.

Delphine came out from behind the counter to greet them. “Dr. Svenson. This is quite some surprise.” She turned to Gillian with a big smile to introduce herself, and her mouth dropped open. She knew these eyes. She had seen them dozens of times in her life when they were still attached to Lilith Hazelwood.

“I see you have been busy again, Doctor. I never thought I’d look into these eyes ever again.”

“Delphine Sykes, please allow me to introduce Gillian Swann. As you have already guessed, Gillian is one of my organ transplant patients and has just received a pair of new eyes. I have just told her who the eyes used to belong to, and we are hoping that you can help her with some difficulties.”

“Tell me what you see, dear,” Delphine said gently, taking Gillian’s hand.

Delphine looked to be in her mid-fifties. She had a real Auntie Mame look about her, an eccentric go-getter. Her auburn hair was a much deeper shade of red than Gillian’s. She had soft violet golden and rose waves emanating from her, similar to what Gillian was seeing in others, but much more vivid. She told Delphine about them.

“Those are what have historically been referred to by artists and seers as auras. Mine are brighter, stronger than everyone around me because, well, witches simply have more energy and more strength. You noticed the changing colors. That depends on mood, health, thoughts, and qualities of good and evil. They are as complex as the person who brings them forth. They are a psychiatric evaluation, lie detector, and MRI all in one. One day, you’ll come to value that sight.”

“But it’s too much. It’s exhausting. It’s spooky. Seeing through walls, through . . . clothes,” Gillian said, nodding meaningfully over at the doctor.

“It can be controlled to the point where you look around and see the world just as you did before, with regular human eyes. But you’ll be able to activate the full power and breadth of your abilities at will. That will take training, time, concentration, and focus. But until then, there are a few things I can show you that will help.”

“A few useful tricks?” the doctor asked hopefully.

“I believe youngsters refer to them as hacks. What happens when you close your eyes, dear?”

“I can see everything,” Gillian said. “I can see things with my eyes closed!”

“But it’s not as intense. It’s not as overwhelming, is it?”

“No, I can’t see through walls. I still see through clothes though. But I don’t see inside people—their bones, their organs. And the colors swirling around don’t make me as dizzy.”

“That’s a very simple, easy thing that you can do when you become overwhelmed. Simply close your eyes. You’ll still be able to get around very well and see everything you need to see.”

“That will look a little odd, though, won’t it?” the doctor asked.

“That’s why she’s going to march across the street as soon as you leave here, to the eyeglass store, and get the darkest pair of sunglasses she can find. The combination of dark lenses and closing your eyes will dampen your sight till it resembles what it used to be.”

“So, I have to wear sunglasses for the rest of my life?” Gillian wondered.

“Oh, no. It’s just a transitional tool. And I don’t want you to wear them twenty-four-seven. You need to see the world with the full power of your eyes several hours each day. It’s the only way you’re ever going to gain control over it. As I said, restraining the power of your sight, as well as amplifying it, will require focus and concentration. But your first priority is to relax and become accustomed to this new part of yourself.”

Lilith arrives, visible only to Delphine. Although Gillian and the doctor may have noticed a slight distraction on Delphine’s part, they could hardly suspect that she was engaged in a silent dialogue with a witch’s ghost.

“Tell her what she is capable of becoming. Tell her that I have a glorious mission for her.”

“Give her time, Lilith. You must realize what a shock to the system it is for commoners to find themselves with such awesome abilities.” Delphine thought that flattery might be the fastest road to secure Lilith’s patience.

“Is there anything else I can do? To keep things under control?” Gillian asked.

“Spend as much time as you can walking around at night, eyes open, no sunglasses. The darkness will relax your eyes. Best of all, walk in the forest at night. That can heal a great many things. Then, when you’re ready, I can guide you in the ways of being a witch.”

“But I don’t want to be a witch.”

“That’s what the last one said,” Lilith groused. “The ingratitude.”

“There’s no need to make big decisions right now,” Delphine assured her. “I will always be here.”

“Yes, I thought I was always going to be there as well. Apparently, the future is promised to no one. Your life could be snuffed out as quickly as mine, Delphine Sykes. And then where will that leave us? She must be indoctrinated as quickly as possible. And you need to impress on her the debt that she owes me. A gift such as my eyes is not to be taken lightly.”

“Look at her, Lilith. She is still in shock.”

“Then hasten her recovery.”

“I will try to do my best by all, including her.”

If it were possible for a bodiless entity to bristle with impatience, then Lilith certainly did.

*****

Having accomplished the purchase of sunglasses, the doctor drove Gillian home, where Abby ran out to meet them. Abby had previously existed to Gillian as a personality and a voice, but without an appearance.

The young woman approaching her was about her age, with a short dark pixie haircut, eyes that were three different shades of brown, a few inches shorter than herself, and apparently, a penchant for T-shirts with bright, crazy patterns. She also wore glasses. Funny how Gillian had never pictured her with glasses. Abby stood nearly shaking with excitement.

“I thought you’d be in the hospital all night or I would have been there. I would’ve been there when the bandages came off. Can you see me?”

Gillian saw gold, yellow and orange glowing all around Abby’s body, as well as navy and white striped underwear. But not the detail of her body organs. The dark sunglasses helped to dampen that reach.

“I see ducks and rainbows on your shirt. And turquoise earrings. Terrific shade on the lipstick. It suits you. And you’re crying. Don’t cry.”

They wrapped their arms around each other, overcome with emotion. Doctor Svenson backed away, and Gillian and Abby went through the gate.

“Gillian. Stop by tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll see if the bright lights don’t hurt your eyes as much after a good night’s sleep.”

Gillian ran out after him. “I don’t want you to think that I’m ungrateful. I have my sight back. It really is a dream come true.”

She gave the doctor big hug and then giddily rejoined Abby. The doctor watched them walk arm in arm back into the house.

*****

Gillian made breakfast the following morning, oatmeal, cooked to the perfect level of consistency, a very hard thing to gauge without the visual assistance, topped with finely diced pieces of banana, walnuts, raisins, and a dash of cinnamon. It was a small thing, but how she’d struggled with it during her blind days.

She also suffered real anxiety about whether her appearance was presentable. Was her hair a mess? Did she have spinach in her teeth? Had her first stray gray hairs come along yet? Was her blouse full of wrinkles? Even back when she was living with Byron, she didn’t entirely trust him on that score. Maybe she was disheveled most of the time and perhaps he was just being kind when he said that she looked fine. Although, in light of recent events, it seemed fairly ludicrous to wonder if he had ever been too kind.

But now she could look in the mirror and know exactly how she presented herself to the world. Perhaps in most people, it would have been unforgivable vanity. But it was really hard to tear herself away from the mirror. It was like seeing an old friend after a long, long absence.

Though Abby wanted to spend the entire day with her, Gillian hoped that she’d understand why she needed to take a walk through town by herself. No cane. No assistance. Just complete, pure, utterly wonderful independence.

*****

Gillian remembered how lovely the storefronts were, how decorative and artistic. But her heightened vision added so many layers of gorgeous complexity to the scene. Simply walking around town was a joyous entertainment. The kaleidoscopic pulses of color that had so alarmed her at first now felt more like a dazzling light show being put on for her benefit.

And if it ever became a bit too much, she slipped on her dark glasses and closed her eyes to give them a rest from the overload. But the wonderful thing was that she had gone from someone who wasn’t able to see to someone who could see with her eyes closed!

Most fascinating of all were the people. They were all bathed in some kind of color. A multitude for every individual. She remembered what Delphine had said, that the different colors meant something—mood, health. Would she ever be able to figure out exactly what they meant? And did she even want to?

She stopped in her favorite park to sit on the bench and people watch and marvel that her life had been given back to her. No more cane. No more audiotapes. She couldn’t wait to get to the library and be able to read real books. No seeing-eye dog. Not that she had anything against dogs. But money was a problem, one that she was going to have to wrestle with very soon. No time to take on a new mouth to feed.

Just as these thoughts were crossing her mind, a jet-black cat was making its way through the park, eyes on the lookout for something tasty to eat. He looked Gillian’s way, stopped dead in his tracks, then made a beeline for her. He leaped into her lap, stood up on his hind legs, rested his front paws on her shoulder, and gazed deeply into her eyes. How odd. Cats are never this friendly. What on earth was going on with him? It was like a staring contest, and this cat wasn’t about to lose. After five minutes, Gillian gently removed him to the ground. This clearly had something to do with the witch’s eyes, which made her uneasy. Were all the animals in town going to be acting strangely?

The cat did not appear to be interested in going anywhere. When Gillian got up to go home, the cat followed at a distance of about ten feet. All the way home. Abby came out to greet her on the porch.

“Nice cat,” Abby said. “I didn’t know you wanted a cat.”

“I don’t. I guess he’s a stray. But I don’t think we should feed him. We’re going to be leaving this house soon enough. We can’t make him think that he can live here. If we go inside, he’ll go away.”

Gillian and Abby had a giddy meal together. For Gillian, it was so nice to have someone else be so excited for her to get her sight back.

“What do you want to see the most?” Abby wondered.

“The ocean, the beach, an art exhibit. I want to see a movie! I want to see a movie so badly. I’ve been listening to movies for the past two years and not able to see them. I want to read. All the classics. War and Peace, just because I can! I want to go to my social worker’s office and tell her, ‘I can see! I can see! You can take me off the disabled list.’ I want to see the look on her face. I think she’s going to be happy for me.”

Abby cocked her head. “No, you’re not going to be disabled anymore. Which is a miracle. But . . . probably means no more disability check, right?”

Gillian sighed. It was a regrettable trade-off. Of course, she preferred having her sight. But she was going to need to find some income, pronto.

“I’m going to go to the library and brush up on FSBO. If I don’t get some money from this house, I’m really going to be up the creek.”

Or wind up homeless, hanging out on park benches, getting too much love from crazy cats.