I had about a million questions when we got into the car. I thought maybe, since Mrs. Walker knew sign language, she might know a bunch of other stuff about being deaf. When Dad breathed between sentences, I said, “Dad, you said Mr. Lafferty’s deaf, but I think he can hear. He heard me playing the piano.”
“I heard you playing the piano and alerted Mr. Lafferty that I needed to go and retrieve you, Julia. That’s when he took off.”
Before Dad could say anything else, Mrs. Walker answered. “Oh, he’s deaf all right, but that doesn’t mean he can’t experience music.”
“So, what is music like when you can’t hear it?”
“He feels it. He’s able to sense vibrations in the same part of the brain that you use for hearing. His experience with the piano today was every bit as real as the sounds your dad and I heard.”
“That’s something I need to know about—brains and hearing. I’d like to know how all that works. I know about the eardrum and vibrations. Must have something to do with that.”
Mrs. Walker turned around to look at me in the back seat. “Yes. It does. And how the deaf experience music is something that has been thought about and studied for a long time. It’s difficult because of our inability to describe what we experience when what we experience is so basic to us. How do you experience music?”
“Hmm, I hear it.”
Mrs. Walker turned back around in her seat. “And if you asked Mr. Lafferty that same question, he’d probably tell you he feels it.”
“But I feel music too. I mean, it can make me happy or sad just by the way it sounds. Like today, I think Mr. Lafferty really liked ‘Jingle Bells.’ I think it made him happy.”
“Yes, and just like what you hear stirs your feelings, what he experiences, however he experiences it, stirs his emotions too. I’m thinking this isn’t the first time Mr. Lafferty has experienced music.”
Dad spoke up. “You’re right. His mom and grandmother played the piano beautifully, so I’m told. He must have remembered experiencing them play.”
The rest of the way home I was quiet. I mostly thought about what had happened at the green mansion, and I wondered if I might get to go back. And I thought about Beethoven, and how he couldn’t hear. But he was different; he had heard the orchestra. He knew how every instrument sounded. But Mr. Lafferty … I wondered if he had ever experienced anything but the piano.
When we got home, Dad settled in his study while Mom worked in the kitchen. I went upstairs to do my homework. I could tell Jackson was playing video games when I walked by his room. I studied for a while and then pulled out my book about Beethoven, skimming the pages quickly to see what I could find out about his deafness. Mom called us to the dinner table before I got to that part.
I expected to see my grandparents when I got downstairs. My grancie knew lots of stories about the Laffertys, and she liked to tell stories. All I had to do was ask one question, and there she went, and she didn’t have an Off button until she was finished. I knew just the question to get her started. And I knew if I asked Dad that question, I’d get no answers, just a “I don’t think you need to know all that right now” kind of response.
I helped Mom with the tea. “Where are G-Pa and Grancie? It’s Tuesday night. They always eat with us on Tuesdays.”
Mom answered as she put the meatloaf on the table. “Couldn’t make it tonight. G-Pa’s friend from Richmond is here for a few days.”
I sat down at my place. Mashed potatoes and gravy, apple salad, Brussels sprouts, and biscuits. I hated Brussels sprouts. Nobody should eat baby cabbages. “But I like it when they eat with us, and I miss them tonight. Maybe I could go there tomorrow after school and spend some time with Grancie.”
Mom looked at me over her reading glasses. “And how will you do that when you have your piano lesson tomorrow?”
“Oh, Brussels sprouts!”
Mom turned around from the sink. “Tell me you didn’t say Brussels sprouts like a swear word because you’re disappointed.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I just noticed them on the table.” Jesus, forgive me.
“Um-huh. And I’ll be seeing them on your plate shortly, won’t I?”
I stammered, “Yes, ma’am, but I’m really not very hungry. I had a big lunch and a snack this afternoon.”
Jackson came bumbling down the stairs with his headphones hanging around his neck, trying to act cool just because he was thirteen now. He was into everything that included throwing, kicking, hitting, or bouncing a ball. He slumped at the table, but he might eat my Brussels sprouts if I promised to make his bed in the morning.
Dad told Mom all about our trip to Mr. Lafferty’s and how I’d played the piano for him. “I thought I might get fired for bringing my daughter to the meeting when it’s not bring-your-daughter-to-work day, especially if she showed signs of being a willful child—and she did.”
“But Dad, the keys—the piano keys were real ivory, and I couldn’t bear not playing real ivory keys. Besides, I didn’t think Mr. Lafferty could hear.” I dipped the ladle into the gravy bowl four times. Then I stirred that gravy into my potatoes before Mom could see.
“About your piano playing: Did you think I had lost my hearing?”
“No, sir. But I used the soft pedal.”
Jackson piped in. “So, what were you doing plundering through the house in the first place?”
I hoped he choked on his biscuit. “Shut up, Jackson. I had to go to the bathroom. I’d like to see what you would have done in that house. Breakable things and birds everywhere, hand-carved wooden birds. With you around, lots of them would have broken wings. You can’t move without tearing something up. Your spasticity level is off the convulsive meter.”
Jackson shook his head. “Where do you learn words like that? You should get a life.”
Mom interrupted. “She learns from reading, Jackson.” She turned to me. “I’m very proud of you for playing for Mr. Lafferty today.”
I held my nose and ate two Brussels sprouts. I counted out the English peas too, until I finished dinner and excused myself to finish my homework. At 9:01 I was already in bed with my book on Beethoven when Dad knocked on my door.
“Your Mom’s talking to Aunt Jane, so I’m the one tucking you in tonight.” Dad sat down on the edge of my bed. “Time for lights out, my number one daughter.”
“I’m sorry if I disappointed you today. I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t help myself.”
“So your curiosity got the best of you? You might remember what it did to the cat. But everything turned out all right for you. Not so much for the cat. And Mr. Lafferty did seem to enjoy your playing.”
“Will you take me back with you when you go to see him? Mr. Lafferty asked me to come and play again.”
“We’ll see.”
“Is Mr. Lafferty’s special gift talking with his hands? It surely looked like a gift to me.”
“No, that’s just his language, one of the ways he communicates. You’ll know his special gift when you see it, because you have never, and I mean never, seen anything like it. Maybe next time.”
“So that means I get to go back to Emerald Crest?”
“Sounds like it, but you need to remember that you’re not to talk about meeting Mr. Lafferty. He’s a very private man and doesn’t want people knowing anything about his business. We need to respect that. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dad prayed with me, kissed me goodnight, and turned off my bedside lamp. As soon as he closed my door, that’s when the light came on—the light in my brain. I was going to learn sign language. I wanted to talk with Mr. Lafferty, and I didn’t want Mrs. Walker telling him what I was saying. She could teach me how to talk with my hands.
Since I can’t go to Grancie’s today, could I go tomorrow?” I didn’t think Dad was looking, so I took another sugar cube and stirred it into my tea. I’d never wanted to drink milk when I was little. But when I was three and Grancie started having cream tea parties with me,
she filled my teacup with milk and only a spoonful of tea. I drank it. She must have told Mom how to get me to drink milk, so Mom had made me tea for breakfast since then. And now that I was ten, sometimes I could have coffee with my milk too. They didn’t know I’d figured all that out a long time ago.
“Three lumps, really, Julia? I can imagine you’re the only child in your class who drinks hot tea for breakfast. That’s usually an acquired taste.”
Mom put the basket of toast on the table and came to my rescue. “Drink your coffee, Ben. Two-thirds of her tea is milk.”
“You didn’t say if I could go to Grancie’s tomorrow. May I, please?”
“We’ll have to see if that works for your grandparents. Remember, they have a guest.” Mom went to the stairs to call Jackson. She did that every morning. I kept telling her she was training him to ignore his clock. She should just let him be late, walk to school, and have to explain his tardiness to Mr. Simms. I thought after one visit with Mr. Simms, Jackson would pay more attention to his alarm clock.
“Dad, do you think Mrs. Walker could teach me how to talk with my hands?”
“I suppose she could, but you know she teaches over at the college in Elkins. Since you’re into questions this morning, maybe you should be asking, ‘Dad, what do you think about my learning sign language?’”
Mom sat down at the table. “Julia, sign language? You already have something almost every afternoon, and what about your studies and your homework and piano practice?”
“I could do it. I can do it all.” I thought I had more of a chance with Dad. “What do you think about my learning sign language?”
I saw Dad glance at Mom like he was asking permission for what he was about to say. “I actually think that learning sign language might be good for her.” He looked straight at Mom. “Yes, I do think it would be good. It would teach her about the value of silence.” Then he chuckled, and Mom got her now-why-would-you-think-that look.
Jackson came down the stairs, looking like the rumpled comforter on his unmade bed. I’d heard Mom tell Dad one time that Jackson’s hygiene habits would change when he discovered girls. I figured girls were still undiscovered, the way he looked this morning.
“Did you say ‘silence’? Julia, silent? That’s about as likely to happen as our junior varsity team winning the state championship this year.” Jackson plopped his biology book on the table and gulped his glass of milk before he reached for the toast.
“I know how to be silent. Remember, I read in silence, Jackson.”
He shoved his book toward me. “Well, here. Why don’t you read this and explain it to me? Have you ever read anything about protozoa?”
“Yes. They’re singular-celled organisms that behave like animals. That means they eat and move around and prey on other protozoa. They don’t have brains. In fact, they’re a lot like you, Jackson.”
He shook his head that spent way too much time in a football helmet.
“And they are microorganisms. That means they can only be seen under a microscope. And they can cause disease. Serious disease. They’re different than protophyta.”
“Enough. I got it. Just be quiet. You know, silent.”
I muffled my voice. “Protophyta are singular-celled organisms that are more plantlike.” That fact would have impressed his teacher, but he wouldn’t get to do that. “So could you please talk to Mrs. Walker, Dad? I really want to study sign language. And could you call Grancie today to see if I can visit her tomorrow?”
Mom turned the African violet around on the table to face the sun coming through the breakfast room window. “I’ll call her, Julia, but she could still have company.”
“And Mrs. Walker?”
Dad answered, “I’ll think about it.”
Jackson piped up. “You learned about protozoas, and you didn’t take biology. So, why don’t you just learn sign language the same way?”
“The plural is protozoans, Jackson.” I needed to think about what he said. Once in a while, Jackson said something that made sense. If Mrs. Walker won’t teach me, maybe I’ll just teach myself.
Dad stood from the table. “Leaving for school in five minutes.” He turned to Mom. “I’ll be in the office all day catching up on paperwork. No courthouse business today.”
“Today is my day at home. Maybe we could have lunch here together.” Mom started to clear the table. “And Julia, I’ll pick you up after school for your piano lesson. Do you have your piano books?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grabbed my jacket from the hall tree and headed toward the door.
I didn’t see Piper out front or on the playground, so I headed straight for our classroom. I was dying to tell her about my visit to the green mansion, but she wasn’t there. They lived out in the country on the other side of town, and sometimes she was late to school when her father was on call. Piper had been my best friend since forever. Her dad was a doctor, and I got to ask him all the questions I wanted to about medicine. He said when I was a little older I could follow him around the hospital for a whole day to see what doctors really do, and he would even take me to the lab. He told me that following him might help me decide about being a doctor. Piper wanted nothing to do with that, but it sounded interesting to me.
Our parents were friends, and Piper didn’t have any brothers or sisters. We could almost pass for sisters, though. Except for the hair. We both had blue eyes, but her hair was long and straight and silky. Mine had started out blonde like hers, but curly, and it was getting darker. Mom said that’s what had happened to her hair growing up. Now she was a curly dishwater blonde.
Piper liked dancing and acting, so her mom took her all the way to Elkins for lessons, and she performed in a theater there for Christmas. Me? I liked to play the piano, and I mostly liked to read. I’d tried dance lessons for a while because Piper wanted me to and her mom volunteered to do all the driving, but I wasn’t very good at dancing. I had Shirley Temple hair, but not Shirley Temple feet. I was better at the piano, but sometimes I still went to Elkins with Piper just to watch her dance at her lessons. She was really good, and she said she was going to be a professional dancer in New York City.
I didn’t have it figured out yet what I’d be, but I figured if I kept reading and exploring new things, something would just appear right in front of me. Dad thought I’d be the next attorney in the family, and that was a good possibility. Lawyers had to know a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff, and I liked that part. When I talked to G-Pa about my future, he just reminded me I have seven more years to decide and not to rush it. And Dad said he’d changed his mind three times before he decided to become a lawyer. But no matter what, I knew for certain I wouldn’t be dancing on a stage in New York City.
Piper came sliding through the classroom door just before the tardy bell rang. I leaned over to her desk and whispered I had something to tell her that she wouldn’t believe. She passed me a note later when Mrs. Hinson had her back turned. Is it about the fall carnival and the hayride? Did Robby ask you to go? I know you like him, and I think he has a crush on you.
Piper could tell from the expression on my face that the answer was a big, fat no. She seemed more interested in boys these days, and she didn’t seem to mind if they acted dumb. But Robby wasn’t dumb. He was smart and kind, not like the other boys in my class.
Finally, the bell rang for our morning break, and we walked down the hall and out to the playground. Piper was pulling at the sleeve of my blouse the whole time we walked. “Julia, what’s the big secret? What is it that I won’t believe?”
We sat down on the bench under the sycamore tree. “Dad took me to Emerald Crest with him yesterday.”
“Emerald Crest?”
“Yeah, you know, the huge green mansion that sits on the mountain outside of town. That’s Emerald Crest.”
“The one where the troll lives?”
“Yes. That one. Only a troll doesn’t live there.”
“Did you see him?”
“Yes, and I s
aw the inside of the house. It’s, like, castle big, and it’s full of wooden birds that Mr. Lafferty has carved. Everything in that house is either wooden or green.”
“Who’s Mr. Lafferty?”
“He owns the house, and he lives there by himself. He uses a wheelchair.”
Angus and Gary walked up. Angus looked at me. “I was standing behind you and I heard what you said. You didn’t go to that house, and you didn’t see anybody ’cause you’d be dead if you did. That place is haunted.”
“That’s not so, and you don’t know anything about anything, Angus.”
“I know what my brother said. He said there’s caves out there with people’s bones in ’em—bones of people who went on that property and were never seen again.”
Gary stepped out from behind Angus. “Yeah, and my grandpa said there’s treasure in them caves ’cause that’s where the old man kept his money. He was rich, and now he’s dead, but he still haunts that place to protect what he buried in them caves.”
Angus added his ignorance. “Yeah, what you saw was a ghost of a dead man.”
“He was no ghost.”
Gary asked, “How do you know? Did he talk to you?”
“No, he can’t talk, and he can’t hear. He’s deaf.”
“Um-huh. He can’t talk, and he can’t hear because he’s a ghost, or else you’re just lying.”
I wanted to slap them silly. It was too late to slap them stupid. “You’re right. I’m lying about all the things I saw at Emerald Crest—the birds Mr. Lafferty’s carved, the huge house, and the expensive things in it. And I’m lying about playing the piano for him.”
Silent Days, Holy Night Page 3
