Legacy of Silence

by Flo Fitzpatrick

  He looked deep into her eyes. He’d obviously been able to understand the majority of her words but was still extremely upset. “But I got paint on your floor right here. And my new shirt!”

  She wrote in the notebook, “Paint will wash off. But guess what? If it doesn’t, you can use that as your painting shirt at the theater. And if we can’t clean the floor I’ll buy some hardwood stains and finishes from the store and redo it. Which I should do anyway.”

  Jesse appeared astonished that he wasn’t going to be punished. Miranda handed him a tissue then politely turned away while he wiped his tears and blew his nose. She stared at his painting. It was her turn to be astonished.

  “Jesse!” She tapped his shoulder to get his attention. This is wonderful! she signed. You’re awesome! Wow. A budding artist!

  He beamed at her. She motioned for him to continue his painting while she cleaned up the spill.

  Once the floor had been taken care of, Miranda was glad to focus on chopping veggies. Her emotions swung from pleasure and excitement over hearing Jesse speak to anger at Willow and anguish over the very real fear that had prompted him to ask, “Are you going to hit me?”

  She revisited the conversation she’d had with Bonnie regarding Jesse and his tragic past. There was an almost magical symmetry knowing that a child orphaned by hate shared a talent for art that Kam Durani—loved by his family and also killed—wouldn’t be able to fulfill. Miss Virginia would be thrilled that this magic was taking place in her house.

  She peeked back into the living room for a moment. Jesse was intently filling in details of the flowers growing in the yard of the Howard family across the street. He was occupied and happy.

  She pulled her bag off the coatrack near the front door and dug out her cell phone, then went back to the kitchen to keep an eye on the stove while she called Russ. They’d planned to do some work at the house Sunday afternoon but that needed to be postponed. Miranda didn’t care if fifteen burglars showed up at the door with tote bags in hand. Jesse deserved a fun day and watching Miranda and Russ read dusty tomes was not any child’s idea of thrilling.

  She texted the events of the day to Russ’s phone and within two minutes received his response.

  Carnival Patriot Park. Sunday afternoon. Petting zoo. Ferris wheel. Rides & booths. Will win plush animals for U and boy at ring toss.

  Perfect! she texted back. She hurried into the living room and showed Jesse Russ’s text. His eyes widened. Then he broke Miranda’s heart.

  “What’s a petting zoo? And a Ferris wheel?”

  She smiled and helped him to his feet, then led him to the small room she and Russ had been using as an office. She turned on the computer and found the carnival’s website. Jesse spent the hour before dinner plotting out every ride he wanted to go on, which animals he’d pet, which booths he’d visit and what he’d eat.

  Dinner was a rousing success. Miranda didn’t ask what Jesse had been eating at Willow’s but she sensed meals came out of boxes, cans, sugary juice pouches or the nearest fast-food grease pit. He eyed his salad as though it was about to take flight and she wondered if he’d ever tasted one before. After dinner she and Jesse played with the trucks she’d bought earlier and snapped the robot together.

  A paralegal (from Dave’s office this time) arrived around seven-thirty to pick up the key and lock the door. He stayed for a moment or two to pat Phoebe, admire Jesse’s artwork and make arrangements with Miranda for the next scheduled session. After he left, she packed up Jesse’s gear, Phoebe’s supplies and her own overnight bag and they all drove to Bonnie’s house.

  Jesse was a bit shy around Bonnie but when she presented him with homemade hot chocolate for a pre-bedtime treat, he grinned and even began chattering about how he couldn’t wait to go to the carnival the next day. Bonnie’s eyebrows shot into her bangs when she realized Jesse was finally speaking but she didn’t launch into questions. She simply said she wished she could go with the group but had previous plans, so she hoped Jesse would give her a full report when they got back.

  By eight-thirty, the seven-year-old was nodding over a second cup of cocoa. Miranda signed bedtime, then made sure he used a new toothbrush and washed his face. Bonnie stayed in the living room and let Miranda take over the parental joys of tucking him in and accepting a good-night hug.

  Phoebe hadn’t let Jesse out of her sight from the moment they’d entered Bonnie’s house. The dog jumped onto his bed and eyed Miranda with a look that plainly stated, I love you, but Jesse needs me more right now, then she snuggled next to Jesse’s side with her head resting comfortably on his stomach. Jesse was thrilled. Miranda backed out of the room, stood in the doorway for a few moments and waited until she was certain he was asleep.

  * * *

  RUSS ARRIVED AT Bonnie’s house promptly at 1:00 p.m. Phoebe and Spero exchanged excited yips then turned their attention to Jesse, who took one look at this second dog and began to giggle. Spero appeared more than pleased at having the chance to be hugged by a small boy.

  “Bonnie’s going to murder us both for keeping two dogs at her place all day long,” Russ said, “but I figure she’ll put up with it for Jesse. Besides, she owes me for giving her an A when she really deserved a B plus.”

  Miranda snorted as Russ handed her the Dragon. “Bonnie loves dogs. I’m fairly certain she also loves you and would have, even if you hadn’t committed academic malfeasance.”

  Jesse’s admiration for the man who’d brought the second dog soared to hero status when Russ signed, Good morning, Jesse! and asked, Ready to meet lambs, baby chickens and miniature horses?

  Jesse glanced up at Russ. He shyly signed, Are you deaf, too?

  I am, Russ signed.

  Jesse was surprised and pleased. He looked at Miranda and said, “I’m not so weird after all, am I?”

  Miranda’s heart constricted. No child should ever believe he’s “weird.” She choked back the well of emotions that were about to overwhelm her. Instead she grinned at Jesse and spoke into the Dragon. “Not so weird at all, Mr. Jesse Castillo. But even if you were, you’d be in good company. Most theater people and artists are considered weird—just in a neat way!”

  Jesse was clearly fascinated by the Dragon and wanted to spend a few minutes talking nonsense to see if it would pick up his words. Russ was finally able to persuade Jesse that he could play with the device as long as he liked after they returned but if he wanted to eat real funnel cakes and cotton candy, the time was now.

  Russ looked around for an outlet. “The battery is low, plus I have no desire to lug it around on roller coasters and carousels.” He smiled. “Jesse or I will figure out whatever you attempt to sign, Miss Crash Course.” He plugged the Dragon into the socket near a hall table and the trio took off.

  Miranda didn’t want the day to be one long junk-food fest, but she did want Jesse to get the full carnival treatment. It was fun to hop from booth to booth with Jesse and Russ as they devoured funnel cakes, cotton candy, hot dogs, candied apples and caramel corn. She did, however, draw the line at the stick of fried butter—even though both Russ and Jesse begged.

  Jesse patted every lamb, guinea pig, bunny and miniature donkey at the petting zoo and proudly posed with a llama for a photo Miranda assured him would be seen by every member of the Masquerade Theater camp. He was thrilled with the ring toss—where Russ won a stuffed panda for him—and the peach basket toss—where Russ won a stuffed bear dressed in a tutu and tiara, which was obviously meant for Miranda. The day’s best moment came after Jesse won a bracelet at the baseball toss. He presented it to Miranda as he signed, For the coolest lady I know! The booth’s caretaker was both savvy and sentimental—he offered to engrave “From Jesse to Miss Randi,” which earned him hugs from both parties.

  They waited until the heavier foods had settled before hitting the rides. The creators of the Ferris wheel, r
oller coaster and Tilt-A-Whirl had been smart—the seats were precisely the right size to enable two adults and a small child to ride in comfort. Miranda was just sad that neither Russ nor Jesse could hear the carousel’s tinny organ music blaring out of the numerous speakers surrounding the painted horses.

  Following the fifth ride on the Ferris wheel, Miranda and Jesse’s favorite, Russ checked his watch and glanced down at Jesse, who was clearly fading. “Four o’clock. I don’t know about anyone else but I’d say it’s time to head out, let everyone rest for a bit and clean up. Then we can hit the ‘meat and three’ diner over on Green Springs.” He winked at Miranda.

  I agree, Miranda signed. Her mouth watered at the idea of a meal at one of the uniquely Southern diners that serves an entrée and three veggies.

  The child was valiantly attempting to stay awake but was rapidly losing the battle. As they were leaving the fair, he stumbled on a small crack in the sidewalk, and Russ scooped him up. “Piggyback ride,” Russ whispered. Jesse was asleep, head resting on Russ’s neck, within minutes.

  Phoebe and Spero were patiently waiting for their return, positioned just behind Bonnie’s front door. The dogs instinctively muted their normal exuberant greeting once they spotted the sleeping child and followed Russ as he carried Jesse back to Bonnie’s guest room. They waited until Russ had gently deposited the boy on the bed, then hopped up and snuggled next to him like bookends.

  Russ collected his Dragon from the hall table and joined Miranda in the living room.

  “That is one cute, sweet kid,” he said. “And smart. He was signing faster than I could teach him.”

  Miranda nodded. “He’s way ahead of me. Of course, his need is more urgent. I gather he learned some signing in the hospital and his original foster mom taught him for a year before she had to give him up.”

  Russ grew serious. “What exactly is the situation with the current foster—Willow, right?”

  “Bad. She’s been abusive. He’s not going back, but no one seems to know where he’s going next. Bonnie has custody for now so that’s a good thing.”

  Russ’s expression hardened. “Don’t they check these people?”

  “They do. But things got messed up because Willow wasn’t the official foster—her ex was. He left and Willow somehow took over. I guess the Department of Human Resources hadn’t had complaints from Jesse’s foster siblings and I’d imagine kids are more frightened of change than sticking with a bad situation. When I met her she didn’t seem horrible or mean, just not terribly bright. But I doubt she’s been giving Jesse real meals even though the state pays for them. I’d say he’s a good fifteen pounds lighter than he should be and that matters at his age. Something tells me Willow uses the money for cigarettes.”

  Russ clenched his fist. “This makes me furious. Anyone who’d abuse a child needs to be locked up and fed moldy bread for about twenty years.”

  “I’d bring the key and be more than happy to toss it into the nearest lake.”

  Miranda started at the sound of crying coming from the guest room.

  “It’s Jesse!”

  “What?”

  “I’ll bet he’s having nightmares. Too many funnel cakes?” Miranda smiled but immediately rose.

  “Go on. I need to do some stuff at home anyway.” He whistled for Spero, looped the leash around the dog’s neck then headed for the door. “I’ll be back around six-thirty. We can all go out and have a meal. Bonnie’s welcome to come with us if she’s home by then. Meantime, go play mom.” He winked.

  It wasn’t until thirty minutes later, after the comforting hugs had put Jesse back to sleep, Miranda thought about Russ’s words. “Go play mom.”

  She wondered what it would be like to substitute be for play.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  RUSS TOOK JESSE and Miranda to a Southern-style, family-friendly diner about a mile from Bonnie’s house. Jesse’s eyes widened at the sight of the menu and Miranda wondered again if the boy had been eating much beyond fast food. While the trio waited for their order, she sat back and let Russ and Jesse take over the conversation strictly through signing. She discovered she’d been wrong. Jesse wasn’t intermediate level with ASL. He was advanced. He’d been kind enough to hold off from near monologues with Miranda, aware that while she could teach him some awesome dance moves, she was light-years behind in signing.

  Jesse and Russ were enthusiastically exchanging views on what Miranda discovered was the topic of model trains. “Lionel and HO,” Russ politely explained. “Jesse has never seen one so I’m giving him the basics. Know anything about ’em?”

  Miranda chuckled. “Seriously? My dad is still in mourning for the set he sold in college,” she said, pausing to let the Dragon translate. “I was dragged to model train shows on an annual basis when I was a kid. I like them but am not an expert on sizes and speed or much else and have no intentions on becoming one. But you two go ahead and wax eloquently to one another about your beloved choo-choos.” Miranda was truly happy to watch Jesse “chattering” with his hands. She knew he didn’t often get the chance.

  Her attention strayed to the booth next to theirs once she noticed the four teenage boys who also appeared to be signing. Within a few seconds she realized they had no hearing issues. They were mimicking Russ and Jesse. Except mimicking was too nice a word. Mocking was closer to the mark. Miranda was glad neither Russ nor Jesse could hear their laughter or catch the rude actions. She hoped Russ had overstated his lip-reading skills, but it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to understand “stupid dumb deafies,” followed by a few curse words.

  It struck her that she was very naive. It had never occurred to her that intolerance and hostility toward people with hearing disabilities even existed. She’d thought sympathy would be the normal first reaction.

  The boys continued their obnoxious charades and Miranda’s temper rose. So had Russ’s—apparently he’d been trying to ignore them, but that was at an end. He growled. “That’s enough. A few noses need busting and a few eyes need blackening.”

  She signed, No!

  “Why?”

  “It won’t do any good, Russ. It’ll just get us thrown out of here and you’ll be arrested for assault.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I may not care.”

  Miranda stood. “Let me try to handle it peacefully. Please. I don’t want you landing in jail while Jesse is traumatized.” She grabbed her bag and quietly pulled out her cell phone...the one with an excellent digital camera. She recorded a video of the boys’ wild signing, then leaned down and spoke to the boy closest to her. First he laughed. When Miranda whispered something else, he turned white and immediately signaled to his companions to stop, yelling, “Outta here. Now!” His leadership skills were excellent. All four boys slapped money on the table and exited the diner in less than a minute.

  Miranda smiled sweetly and slid back into the booth.

  Russ stared at her in sheer amazement. “What did you say to him?”

  “Oh. Not much. I told him I was so entertained by his crew that everyone in the known universe should get the chance to see them, too. He thought that was funny until I told him he and his buddies had inadvertently signed they were in the midst of a major drug deal that was going down in the next five minutes. Anyone that ignorant is bound to be somewhat concerned that the cops will be busting in and hauling them off to jail. Wouldn’t surprise me if at least one of those clowns already had an arrest or two under his belt.”

  Russ howled. “Talk about brilliant on your part and totally stupid on theirs to believe you!”

  She nodded. “The same techniques work with emotional, intolerant bullies and temperamental divas. The only way to fight back is to keep your cool, not let them know they’re getting to you and then embarrass the fool out of them.” She grinned. “But it’s not really as satisfying as pouring iced tea over their
heads would have been.”

  She paused when the waitress brought platters of food to the table, thanked her and quickly took a bite of a squash casserole. Jesse was wolfing down his chicken as though it were his last meal on earth. Miranda gently touched his hand and signed, Slow down. Take all the time you need.

  Russ was staring at her. “Ever done that?”

  “What? Pour something over someone’s head?”

  Russ nodded.

  “Actually, yes,” Miranda said, blushing.

  His eyebrow rose. “So you do have the proverbial redhead’s temper?”

  “On occasion.”

  “Care to share?”

  She smiled. “Okay. If I must. One particular event comes to mind from my days in high school. I was at a party after a football game and noticed this jerk was being verbally abusive to a new kid. A freshman. He was shy and awkward and obviously out of his element and I’m pretty sure several of the seniors only invited him to make fun of him. Anyway, I happened to overhear some unsavory statements so I marched up to Mr. I-Own-the-School and poured the contents of my glass over his head. Sweet tea. With ice. Someone captured the moment on their camera and by Monday Mr. I-Own-the-School was being laughed at throughout the hallowed corridors.” She paused before adding, with a grin, “It was rumored that he’d been planning on asking me to prom that year. Imagine my surprise when he never did.”

  Russ couldn’t stop laughing. Jesse asked him what was going on and he signed, Flashing back to school days and crazy things Miss Miranda used to do.

  Miranda winked at Jesse and signed, And still does.

  Her cell phone suddenly rang. She grabbed it, glanced at the screen, then answered the call.

  “Hey, Darci.”