Chapter 6
6
August
I t’s not until I’m balancing on the top rung of a ladder leaning against the warped roofline of my mom’s old greenhouse that I consider the repercussions of taking on such a project alone. Perhaps my confidence is riding higher than usual this morning after an evening spent researching the ins and outs of a side gig I hadn’t put much stock into—that is, until a remarkable brunette entered my studio and pulled the rip cord on my expectations.
The cumbersome roof vent I’m holding above my head tries its best to rock me off-center, but I’m no lightweight. I didn’t recover this thing from the back acre of my neighbor’s overgrown property just to lose it to the wind again. And I didn’t agree to let Sophie record in my studio only to muck it up on account of my ignorance on all things fiction. No matter how long she intends to stay in the area, I know she’s something special. That moment we shared before she left my studio was the closest thing to hope I’ve felt in approximately two years.
W ith my father’s drill in hand, I strain to slide the problematic vent across the exposed opening. Before I can secure it fully, my vision snags on the herb garden my mother once meticulously maintained inside these weathered walls. Though my father built this greenhouse as an anniversary gift for her, my mom’s presence looms in the handwritten signs that hang from the rafters, indicating the location of each variety.
Perhaps, in her own way, that’s what Sophie is, too. A sign to point me in the right direction after so many wrong turns and dead ends. A sign? I shake my head at the random intrusive thought. But before I can blink them away, a pair of gorgeous green eyes looms steady at the forefront of my mind, shimmering with the kind of enchantment that both enthralls and terrifies me. And it’s then my braced knee slips from its post, kicking my only ladder to the ground.
I scramble to find a foothold as my hands claw for anything that might keep me on this roof when something sharp rips through the flesh of my left palm. Yet I can’t lose my hold. To do so would require me to let go of my dad’s favorite possession.
I stare at it now, dangling above the earth like a trick question.
Hot, sticky blood trickles down my fingers as I assess my predicament. Particularly how to perform a slide, tuck, and roll maneuver without having to release the goods in my right hand.
Much like surfing, I tell my mind to take a back seat to my body.
And then I just ... let go.
The ground meets me sooner than I predict, and my landing is far from graceful, but at least everything is intact after impact. Including my dad’s drill.
Chest heaving, I lie flat on my back in the dead grass and slowly take inventory of each appendage. No breaks. Good. Seeing as I still have a dishwasher to unload and three piles of laundry waiting for me to fold before Aunt Judy shows up to refresh Gabby’s camp attire, I don’t have time for a medical emergency. The last thing I need is for my aunt to question my ability to run a household.
As soon as I regain use of my faculties, I’m up on my feet. And o ther than the flesh wound on my palm, I’m fine. That is, until I pull back the patio slider into the kitchen and see a container of my mother’s peanut butter fudge on my parents’ dining table. The sight sends a splinter through my chest.
“That you, August? I saw your car in the drive but didn’t want to disturb you if you were in the middle of recording something in the studio.” Before I can respond, Aunt Judy strides into the kitchen from the living room, holding up a pair of my boxer briefs.
My eyes narrow on the object clutched in her manicured hands. “Is there a reason you’re holding my underwear, Aunt Judy?”
“What? Oh! Oh my. Sorry about that.” She laughs and sails them into the other room as if that’s all it will take to erase the image permanently tattooed to my brain. “After I collected your sister’s things from her room, I saw the baskets of clean laundry on the sofa and thought I would make myself useful while I waited.”
“Thanks,” I begin, “but you really didn’t need to—”
I’m interrupted by a yelp that’s delivered in an octave not suitable for human ears at the sight of the blood pooling at my feet. And now it’s my turn to look sheepish.
I book it to the sink. “It’s nothing. Just a little cut.”
“That is not little!” Aunt Judy sputters as she runs ahead of me to flip on the tap. “What on earth did you do? Did this happen in your studio?”
“No. Outside.” The shorter and more vague my answer, the better.
“Where specifically?” she presses, grabbing my wrist to place my injured palm under the stream and examine the injury as if she were a nurse and not an accountant. But on second glance, the cut does appear more gnarly than I first surmised.
“The greenhouse.”
Though I’m purposefully avoiding her gaze as I angle my hand out of hers, she isn’t deterred. “ How ?”
“The roof vent blew off in the storm last night. I was reattaching it.”
I cut my gaze away, but not before I see her horror-rimmed eyes. “Please don’t tell me you were up on that old roof alone.”
I say nothing.
“August.”
“I’m fine,” I say again, knowing full well she won’t accept this as fact. Neither would my mother. The stray thought rubs at me like sandpaper.
“Clearly.” She heaves a sigh as she opens and closes five drawers looking for what I can only assume is a kitchen towel, which she won’t find seeing as every towel in this house is currently piled on my sofa, waiting to be folded. “You’ve had a tetanus shot within the last ten years, right?” Another drawer opens and slams to the side of me. “I don’t even want to think about what kind of bacteria you could have picked up from that ancient, moss-ridden thing.” Empty-handed, she rotates to face me. “I think I should take you to a doctor. There’s a good chance you’ll need stitches.”
With my good hand, I reach across my body to collect a wad of paper towels and wrap them around my palm. The sting of pain pales in comparison to the sting of my pride in this moment.
Aunt Judy has always been a little over-the-top when it comes to nurturing. As my father’s older sister, fussing over her family comes naturally, I suppose. But after the accident, that particular trait is what held us together even after our world broke apart. She’d organized meals through the neighborhood church my parents had attended for decades, sorted the gifts and endless barrage of cards, navigated Gabby’s female needs, and offered an endless supply of maternal affection I was in no way qualified to give.
Somehow, this nightmare we shared had blurred days into weeks, weeks into months, and finally months into nearly two years. And while I appreciate everything she’s done for us—for my sister in particular—I also recognize how different the two of us are as people.
Case in point.
I tick my head toward the dining table, hoping distraction will tame Aunt Judy’s hyper-fixation on my wound. “I appreciate the fudge. That was thoughtful of you.”
“You’re welcome.” She moves her hands to her hips. “But if that’s your sneaky way of trying to change the subject, it won’t work.”
I feign innocence. “Never.”
Another hearty sigh from my only blood relative in California. “Just promise me you’ll watch for infection, okay? If your mother were here right now, she’d—”
At her abrupt stop, the ever-present chokehold around my throat tightens. If my mother were here right now, everything would be different.
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t...” Aunt Judy takes a moment to recalibrate. “All I’m trying to say is that you are important to this family—to me and to your sister, especially. She counts on you.”
“There is nothing I think about more than Gabby.” The statement comes out stronger than I intend, but between the throb in my palm and the insinuation that I might be unaware of Gabby’s dependence on me, I leave it as it stands. Without apology.
“I know,” she says, backpedaling as she reaches to touch my arm. “You are a wonderful big brother, August.” She smiles then, as if she’s called a silent truce. “You made the right decision allowing her to attend this camp, you know? When I popped in on her a few days ago, she looked so happy. I think spending such a concentrated amount of time with the deaf community has been good for her.”
We both know it was Judy’s persuasive phone call and camp fee donation that got me to agree, but I can’t help but feel relieved at her report, even if I don’t fully agree with her reasoning. “She’s always made friends easily. And I’m sure it helped to know a couple familiar faces when she arrived.”
“I’d say that’s true.” Her expression shifts into something almost mischievous. “Although, you should probably know she seems to be drawn to one face in particular.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Tyler seems to have become more than a friend.”
My mind refuses to compute. “Tyler? As in her ASL and speech tutor’s son?”
“Yes.” She nods. “Of course, I’m sure that’s not too surprising, considering you’ve allowed him to give her rides to church events over the last few months.”
M y tongue has suddenly been sucked free of moisture. “That’s only because they live five minutes from us. We’re literally on the way.”
She hikes an eyebrow, and I begin a mental moonwalk back through the last year, to when Gabby first saw the flyer for the big church in town with the “deaf-friendly culture” and ASL interpretation of the sermons at her tutor’s office. Gabby begged me to let her attend, and I simply didn’t have the heart to say no to her even if church was the last place I wanted to be.
“Tyler’s eighteen,” I protest. “He just graduated. He’s too old for her.”
“She’s half a year away from turning seventeen. Technically speaking, they’re only a grade apart.”
Of all the topics we’ve discussed in relation to Gabby—my household budget, my job security, my sister’s medical needs, her grief therapy sessions online with a captioning system that Aunt Judy financed before summer break—the subject of boys has never come up.
A nervous prickle sweeps my spine. “Gabby has goals. She isn’t interested in ... in a relationship like that.” But even as I say it, I hear how idiotic I sound.
Aunt Judy glances at the blood-soaked paper towel around my left hand, then grabs the fresh roll off the counter. She offers me a few more squares, and I do a wordless exchange as I rewrap my angry flesh.
After a sigh, she leans against the counter. “It might be hard for you to hear, but she cares for him. And given the smitten way he tends to her, I’d say he cares for her, too. She’s growing up.”
A sensation like I’ve never known catches fire at the base of my ribs. My sister is too young for what Aunt Judy is describing, isn’t she? A sudden image of her riding atop my shoulders with braided pigtails and a toothless grin plays like a short film in my mind.
“She’s not allowed to date.” This is the first time I’ve spoken these words, but they feel right. Needed, even.
S he hikes a groomed eyebrow at me. “As I recall, your parents allowed you to date at sixteen.”
“That’s different, I was a...” I rake my good hand through my hair. Why is it a thousand degrees in this house? I cross the room to the thermostat and hit the down arrow. Repeatedly.
“A what? A boy?” she finishes with a laugh. “Afraid you’re going to need a better argument than that, sweetheart. Tyler’s a good kid from a solid family, but you already know that. Gabby could do far worse for a first boyfriend.” Aunt Judy says this as if that’s what he is now—a boyfriend. Sweat prickles the back of my neck.
“The two of them have been hard at work on a project during their free time at camp, a curriculum to assist Tyler’s mom in teaching an ASL class in early fall.”
I try not to act as bothered as I feel by this. “Where?”
“I’m not sure on the location, but I do know they’re hoping to advertise it at the church.”
The big grin on Aunt Judy’s face when she says this is not surprising. She believes church is the solution to every ailment we face in life, while I tend to believe the church is the reason my parents are dead and my sister is deaf.
“I’ll talk it over with her once she’s back home,” I amend civilly, knowing full well that Gabby is smart enough to recognize that her summer camp schedule is far from real life. While she may be enjoying a world of freedom in the woods with new friends now, her fall is full. Especially with the classes she’s hoping to take for dual-enrollment credits toward college. I’m not sure assisting with an ASL class will be a priority. “Between her schooling, her online therapy, doctor appointments, tutoring sessions, and her church commitments, her fall schedule is pretty packed.”
Aunt Judy nods, but it’s the kind of nod that could fill a couple paragraphs if her brain were to dump all the words she’s not speaking onto a page. I bend my arm at the elbow, hoping to appease some of the pressure in my palm. And if I’m honest, the pressure building under my aunt’s gaze, too.
“Your sister is doing remarkably well, August.” She smiles, and t he crinkles at the corners of her brown eyes remind me of my dad. “To see her thriving again—laughing, teasing, acting like a boy-crazy teenager without limitation or insecurity was ... well, it was good for my heart. And more importantly, I believe it’s been good for Gabby’s heart.”
I say nothing to this because I sense there’s more to it. She’s already thanked me for letting Gabby attend, already told me about the boy who’s wiggled his way past friendship territory, so what is—
“I pride myself on keeping confidences, and you know more than anyone how precious Gabby is to me, so please know I only share this with you because I know how much you dislike being caught off-guard.”
I hold my breath, braced for the words I’ve feared most since the day I became Gabby’s legal guardian.
“Gabby doesn’t feel you can provide what she needs as a growing young woman.”
“Gabby’s asked if she can move in with me.”
“Gabby sees through all your false pretenses and is ashamed of you.”
“Gabby deserves more than you can give her.”
Aunt Judy shifts her stance but holds her gaze steady. “Your sister told me that because of these weeks at camp and the community she’s building, she’s considering applying to the private all-deaf college that sponsored the camp. She’s asked me to help her with looking into scholarships, as the tuition is pricey.” She rubs her lips together. “But the good news is, Radiance University is only a six-hour drive from here, and she’ll likely know a few—”
I shake my head. The conversation regarding Tyler might have caught me off-guard, but this? This is a different kind of blow altogether, one that threatens to take me out at my knees.
“Deaf college?” I ask in a tone that’s teetering too close to a line I’ve never allowed myself to cross. “She doesn’t need to go to an all-deaf anything. She has hearing aids, and when she wears them, they work perfectly fine.”
“That may be true for now, but think about the future, August, and what the doctor told us. I think this summer has helped her d iscover just how important shared community is with peers who are dealing with similar challenges. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if God plans to use her hardship for something that will eventually bless a whole lot of people.”
Blindsided by this announcement, I can say nothing. Do nothing. None of this is the plan. Gabby is going to complete her associate’s degree by the end of her senior year through the local community college and then go into elementary education right here at Sonoma State University so she can stay at home. Save money. She’s great with kids—excellent, in fact. Teaching is what she’s wanted to do since the year my parents adopted her from Colombia.
“If it’s the tuition you’re concerned about, there are scholarships and grants out there, we just have to find them.” She gentles her voice, and I know whatever comes next will be about money. I’m not wrong. “I have a little investment account I’ve put aside. I’ll talk to Jeff. I’m sure he’ll be happy to donate a set amount toward Gabby’s tuition.”
“While that’s very generous, I think we might be getting too far ahead of ourselves here.” I laugh, though there is little I find humorous. “Gabby and I have been talking about her future plans for well over a year now. I’ve helped with her transcripts and met with guidance counselors to look over her schedule for the online college classes she’s adding this fall. The admin has assured me she’ll have every accommodation she needs. She doesn’t need an all-deaf college to become a grade school teacher.”
“Why do you think she’s become so passionate about learning ASL this past year?” Aunt Judy doesn’t wait for my answer. “Because she refuses to fear the future, whatever it may bring.”
I study my work boots for several long seconds. “If Gabby attends a school for the deaf, what’s to stop her from becoming isolated by her impairment instead of learning how to integrate with the hearing world?”
“All she’s done is integrate. She was even willing to drill a hole in her head to please you, August. But the cochlear implant wasn’t the answer. And the aids are only a short-term solution.”
“ There are new developments happening in medical technology all the time,” I counter, taking care not to say more. It’s neither the time nor place to go into the experimental procedures I’ve researched like an after-hours job. She’d never understand the submission process for such things, much less the upfront medical costs required. Aunt Judy might be a woman of faith, but she accepted my sister’s prognosis at face value before I’d even signed Gabby out of the hospital.
It’s been a long time since we’ve tapped into this recycled conversation, and to be honest, I don’t think either of us are up for it. At least, that’s what I’m banking on.
“You heard Doctor Radcliff the same as I did, August,” Aunt Judy says gently. “Her prognosis is degenerative. Outside of a miracle, it won’t improve. Her only option is adaptability. Right now she can still hear with her hearing aids, but we have to be realistic. Neither of us knows how long that will last. Until then, I believe her time is best spent preparing for a future without sound.”
My gut roils. “He’s only one opinion.”
“He was your fourth opinion—all of which were nearly verbatim.” Her eyes mist with passion as she closes in and touches my cheek the way she did when I was a young boy. Her musky perfume sticks in my nostrils. “I know it’s hard. But you need to learn to accept where she’s at. If not for your own sake, then for hers.”
When I don’t respond, she pats my cheek and moves to the dining room to swipe her purse off the table. She pulls out a colorful brochure and places it on the table next to the fudge. All I see are the words: Radiance University .
She pauses in front of me again. “It’s noble, what you’ve sacrificed in order to care for her needs. You’ve honored your parents by how you’ve provided for their daughter, but they couldn’t know when they wrote their will just how different Gabby’s life would be at the time of their death.” I stare at the brochure featuring several happy, smiling young adults on the cover. “It might be time you take a baby step back and allow her to speak for herself.” She grips my shoulder, squeezes. “In the meantime, I’m praying for you both. I’ll never stop.”
She doesn’t wait for me to speak again. She simply slides her purse strap over her shoulder and lets herself out, leaving the brochure for an alternate life and an alternate future behind.