CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
At breakfast, Luke and the others walked in to find the children playing their instruments once again. They were hovered over by Marnie and Lennon, both pregnant, one with triplets and one twins.
“What’s going on?” smirked Cam.
“Well, it seems that Jordan babies like music,” smiled Marnie. “The babies have been so active I haven’t been able to sleep but when the children play their symphony, or whatever it is, the babies are calm.”
“Same for me,” smiled Lennon. “You would have never been able to convince me it was true but here I am, begging for another song.”
“I’m not a woman, nor have I ever been pregnant,” smiled Eric, “but maybe you ask them to play for them at night, right before you go to bed. Then you’d have a great nights’ sleep. Now, they’re going to sleep and you’ll be up all night again.”
“Oh, shit,” muttered Lennon. “He’s right.”
Both women stood, waving at the children as they hurried out of the room and back toward their own cottages. Eric could only laugh. He turned to see his father, Tailor, and Alec signing to Charlie.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No. Not at all. It’s just that Riley, Jane, Marnie and all the doctors feel that if Charlie can sing, he can speak. We think something traumatic happened that made him unwilling to speak,” said Tailor.
“That makes sense,” nodded Eric.
“We’re trying to get him to tell us his story, while singing,” smirked Alec. He signed to the boy and the boy smiled at him. Charlie began singing in a beautifully perfect tone.
“I am Charleee, son of Mareeee,” he stopped, smiling at the two men.
“Your mother is Mary?” asked Tailor in sign. Charlie swallowed, nodding at him. “Is she alive?”
“Noooo. Fell asleep and didn’t wake up.”
“We’re sorry about that, Charlie,” said Eric in perfect ASL. “Did you have any brothers or sisters?”
Charlie looked away from them for a moment, staring out the windows as if trying to remember his past. Turning toward the men again, his eyes were filled with tears.
“Charlie, if it hurts to tell us, it’s okay,” said Alec.
“The doctor hurt the-em,” he said in a sing-songy voice. “He hurt them every dayyyyy.”
Charlie stopped, shaking his head and decided to just sign.
“They were older than me. They could not hear either. Both played the cello. They were very good,” he said with a prideful smile.
“I’m sure they were as talented as you are,” said Tailor. He shook his head.
“Better. So much better. The doctor and the mean lady hurt them every day. One day I went to find them and the doctor said they’d died. He didn’t tell me why.”
“Charlie, did your mother, Mary, did she go to the doctor or the lady for help?” asked Eric. He nodded.
“The lady came to the house and said she could give my mother a better place to live, more money if she let us live with her and the doctor. She told our mother she would find out what makes us special. Are we special?”
“Very special,” smiled Tailor.
“I don’t think I want to be special anymore.”
“Charlie,” started Alec, “you will always be special, like all children. We think every child born into this world is special in their own way. You have nothing to be afraid of, or ashamed. You are a remarkable, beautiful young boy who has an amazing gift.”
“Are you going to make me sing for people on the television?” he asked.
“On the television?” frowned Tailor. The boy looked around the cafeteria and pointed to Ace and Sly, both with their laptops in front of them. “Sly? Ace? Get over here. Please.”
The two men practically ran toward the table, their laptops in their hands.
“Like this, Charlie?” asked Alec.
“Just like that. The doctor said if I didn’t sing, I’d have to put the patches on my head again. I didn’t want to do that. They hurt. A lot.”
Alec swallowed, his massive fists clenching beneath the table.
“Charlie, you go have fun with the others,” said Eric. They watched as the boy skipped away and then looked at one another. “He made him sing into a computer. If he uploaded that song, or that performance it should be accessible.”
“If he did, we’ll find it,” said Sly. Eric turned to his father and Uncle Alec.
“I know you’re both in on this. We all are. But you can’t clench your fists and put the mean face on and expect those kids not to be afraid of you. We all have to fix our face.” Both men nodded.
“Sorry, Eric,” said Alec. “They were doing electroshock on those kids. If they were truly trying to figure out what was happening in their brains, why torture them?”
“I’m not sure,” said Eric shaking his head. “I know there are cases of children with unusual abilities and skills that don’t feel pain but that seems too far from this and what they were trying to do.”
“I think there’s another reason,” said Cam walking toward them. “And it’s something none of is us are going to like very much.”