Chapter Forty-four
Three months later…
Maisy and I put the finishing touches on her new room then stand back and admire our work. Her princess bed sits in the middle, the four-poster bed with a canopy on top and sheers along the sides making it look like something out of a Disney movie.
Bolt has his own bed in the corner, also pink, which as a boy I think he should protest, but I get the idea he’d put up with anything for Maisy.
I know the feeling.
“Perfect,” I sign.
“I love it,” she signs, and hugs me. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too.”
Exchanging those words has become an everyday occurrence for us, and it warms my heart every single time.
Tapping her shoulder to get her attention as she organizes her toy ponies by height, I motion to the hallway. “I’m going to finish dinner.”
“Celebrate,” she signs.
“Yes, we’re celebrating. Big day.”
Her eyes light up. “You show me the room tonight?”
I smile and nod. “Yes. Later.”
“We surprise Ellie?” she signs.
“That too. After the room.”
I go downstairs and pass the one room that’s been off limits to Maisy and Ellie as we went through the remodel. Both of them have had a hand in the renovations even though Ellie doesn’t even live here. But it was fun to see her put her own touch on things as if she would one day. Which we both know she will. We know it without saying it. We know it without signing it. We just know.
Ellie never went home to her apartment. She moved into a rental house she’s been sharing with Sierra and Tara. Ellie’s boss gave Tara a legitimate job at the Deaf and Blind school, and Sierra has made the house her home base between ski instructor gigs.
On my way to the kitchen, I stop and look at the wall of pictures. I never thought I—Blake Montana—would have a wall of family pictures. But I do. And it’s just one more testament to how my life has changed since Maisy and Ellie came into it.
I run a finger across the frame smack in the middle. I had to rearrange all the others to add it earlier today, but it’s the most important picture by far. The bottom half of the frame has a picture of Maisy and me. It’s my favorite photo of the two of us. One day at the winery, Maisy and I were holding hands walking through the vineyard. Ellie was trailing behind. She clapped her hands to get my attention, and when Maisy and I turned and looked over our shoulders, she started snapping photos.
Maisy is wearing one of her favorite princess dresses, her spiral blonde curls blowing in the light breeze as she smiles back at Ellie. I’m not wearing anything special, but it’s not what we’re wearing that makes this particular picture so extraordinary, it’s how I’m looking at Maisy.
When Ellie showed me the photo, she had tears in her eyes. She said she’d never seen me look as much like a father as I did in that moment. Which is why it’s only fitting that this be the photo in the same frame as Maisy’s new birth certificate. The one that came this morning. The one that displays her new name and makes her officially a Montana. The one that bonds us for life.
The paperwork was filed months ago, right after I got word that Lucinda had passed. I went to see her once more after the first visit. I didn’t take Maisy that time either. We both agreed it would be better that way, but we did make amends. Despite the way Lucinda treated Maisy, I wouldn’t have Maisy if it weren’t for her. And I didn’t think she deserved to die without knowing how far Maisy had come. I showed her all kinds of pictures and told her stories. Lucinda just sat with a smile on her face. Two days later, she was gone.
One day, I’ll tell Maisy about Lucinda. But not today. Today I have other things planned.
In the kitchen, I check on the short ribs that have been cooking all afternoon. I put a bottle of wine on the table and start on the potatoes and the other vegetables. Everything has to be perfect. It’s our first night in the house and there’s so much to celebrate.
Jonas, Brayden’s dad, sees me in the kitchen window from his yard and gives me a wave. We’ve become fast friends with the neighbors. Even though we didn’t move in until today, ever since our kids started kindergarten together a few weeks ago, I’ve been driving Maisy over and Jonas and I have been walking the kids to school. Those kids are like two peas in a pod. I swear Brayden’s mom already has them betrothed.
Maisy loves school. She’s even started learning English. Her signing improved by leaps and bounds after the two of us went to Seattle over the summer for a two-week intensive ASL camp. At this point, she may know more signs than I do.
An hour later, the house lights flash in rapid succession. Maisy comes bounding down the stairs. “Now?” she asks.
“Not yet.”
She’s impatient to get on with things, but gets over it quickly when I let Ellie in the front door.
“You can use your key,” I sign.
She shrugs. “Not my house.”
“Yet,” I sign, capturing her eyes with mine.
She laughs, then her eyes close as she inhales. “What’s that heavenly smell?” she asks.
“We made your favorite,” Maisy signs.
I ruffle Maisy’s curls. “Oh, we did, did we?” I tease.
“I put milk in the potatoes,” she signs.
Ellie touches her shoulder. “That’s the most important step.”
Maisy beams at her then tugs at my shirt. “Now?”
I shake my head. “Eat first.”
We go into the dining room and sit at the table. Ellie immediately spots the bottle of wine I’d set near her plate. She picks it up and her eyes sparkle with amusement.
She runs a hand over the label that reads:
EL
Merlot
Montana Winery
Limited Edition
She looks up with misty eyes. “You named a wine after me?”
“I did. Look closer.”
She studies the label. Behind each English letter is the shadow of the corresponding ASL letter. “Oh, my God. I love this. I don’t even care if it tastes like crud, I’ll drink every last drop.”
I laugh. “Believe me, it doesn’t. I spent months working with our vintner”—I fingerspell the word because I seriously have no idea if there’s an ASL sign for winemaker—“and I think you’re going to go crazy over it.”
She pushes away the corkscrew. “I’m not sure I want to open it. It’s one of a kind.”
“Actually, it’s one of a hundred. I have the other ninety-nine under lock and key, and they will only get better with age.”
“In that case.” She holds out her glass, waits for me to pour it, inhales the robust fruity scent with a hint of oak, then closes her eyes and takes a sip. “Wow.” Her eyes pop open. “If I didn’t already love you, this would have done the trick.”
I smile. “I’m glad you approve.”
She sets her glass down. “I have a little surprise for you too.”
I raise a brow in question.
She positions her right hand in the ILY sign, then, keeping the sign, taps her heart twice with her thumb.
I tilt my head, unfamiliar with the combination. “What does that mean?”
Her bright smile lights up the entire room. “It’s your name sign.”
I point to myself. “Mine?”
Ellie nods as Maisy claps. “It was Maisy’s suggestion that we give you a name sign. Of course she’ll still call you Dad, but she insisted you have one. When we secretly discussed our options, and I asked what she loves the most about you, she said it’s your giant heart and the way you love us. I think it’s the perfect sign because the ILY sign is similar to the sign used for alcohol—and everyone who knows you knows you’re all about wine. Not to mention there are three fingers used in the name sign signifying—”
I grab her gorgeous hands and complete the thought myself. “Us,” I sign and motion around the table.
These girls. These quiet, beautiful, amazing creatures who make my life worth living. I pray that I never take for granted their kindness, love, and unwavering zest for life.
After dinner, Ellie helps clean up as I deal with my very impatient daughter who is nearing the end of her rope.
Ellie emerges from the kitchen and signs, “Done.”
I chuckle and tell her she left the faucet running. Again.
She rolls her eyes and signs, “Deaf problems.”
I figure I’ve made Maisy wait long enough, so I announce, “I have a surprise for both of you.”
Maisy jumps up and down, signing, “Room. Room.”
Ellie’s eyebrows go up. “The big reveal?”
I smile and nod. “Follow me.”
We walk to the door at the end of the lower hallway. I’ve kept it locked so little prying eyes wouldn’t see the surprise.
“Close your eyes and hold my hand,” I sign. “You’ll know when it’s time to open them.”
Maisy loves this game, and overdramatically squeezes her eyelids shut and holds out her hand.
Ellie glares at me.
“You too. Please? I promise it’ll be worth it.”
She plays along. I unlock the door, take Ellie’s hand, guide them through, and shut the door with my foot. I lead them to the center of the room, drop Ellie’s hand, and pull the remote from my pocket. I hit a few buttons and brace myself for it.
Sound assaults my ears as it bounces off the walls. Lights of varying colors flash along to the beat of the music. Both of my girls open their eyes when they feel the vibrations under their feet.
Maisy falls to the floor and puts her hands on the ground, absorbing the vibrations in both her hands and feet. The smile on her face is a mile wide as she watches the lights flash.
Ellie’s jaw is on the floor as she turns in a circle and takes it all in.
It took a lot of ingenuity, but with the help of some others in the Deaf community, along with the best sound engineers money can buy, I created a sound room.
I rebuilt the walls with extra layers of drywall and four additional inches of insulation. The door hermetically seals to make it soundproof, so even if you stand right outside, you can’t hear anything. At the front of the room is a built-in state-of-the-art sound system hooked up to a complex arrangement of lights hanging from the ceiling that have been programmed to flash along with the music. Different colors signify different tones, warm colors for bass, cool colors for treble. I have to admit, it’s pretty amazing. You can almost see the music. And you can definitely feel it. Each of the walls has multiple floor-to-ceiling speakers, and I even special ordered some to be installed in the floor, which is why Maisy is sitting on it right now.
“This is the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me,” Ellie signs. Then her cheeks redden. “Not that it’s for me.”
I pull her close. “Of course it’s for you. It’s for the two most important people in my life.”
She smiles and puts her head on my shoulder, swaying to the music in my arms.
I revel in the unexpected benefit of the room. Dancing with Ellie. Although I’m going to have to invest in some high-tech earplugs if I spend much time in here.
Maisy squeezes between us and joins in our dance.
This—this right here—might be my favorite moment in time. Then I laugh at myself, because I think that very same thing at least once a day when Maisy learns a new sign. Or when she runs into my arms after school. Or… basically anytime Ellie looks at me.
I tap Maisy on the shoulder and tell her, “Now.”
She claps her hands and runs from the room.
Ellie narrows her eyes at me, but she barely has time to ask about it when Maisy trots back in the room, beaming, carrying two small boxes.
She hands the pink box to Ellie.
“For me?” Ellie asks.
Maisy bounces. “Open it.”
Ellie carefully opens the long slender box, her hand covering her heart as she looks down at the platinum necklace that spells M-O-M in ASL letters. Maisy tugs on Ellie’s hand then signs, “Will you be my mom?”
Tears flood Ellie’s eyes. Before she can say anything, however, I open the second box and show her what’s inside. Because there’s more than one question she needs to answer.
When Ellie sees the ring, tears fall.
I take the ring out, drop to a knee, and sign amidst blaring music, “Will you be my wife?”
She doesn’t need to reply. She doesn’t need to sign or speak or even nod. Because I can see the answer in her eyes. Like Maisy, she’s going to be a Montana. She’s going to be one for the rest of her life and mine. She’s going to raise Maisy with me and have more children to fill all the rooms in this house. She’s going to love me as fiercely as I love her. She’s going to be my forever.
Maisy however, is eager for an answer as she tugs at the hem of Ellie’s dress, looking up at her expectantly.
Ellie sinks to her level and signs to my spunky, curly-haired, perfect daughter, “There is nothing I want more.”
Maisy looks from Ellie to me, possibly confused by her answer.
I smile the biggest, brightest smile and sign, “That’s a yes.”
Maisy yelps and cheers and dances around before we all come together and hug as one. Because she understands.
She understands it all. Who I am. Who Ellie is. Who she is. And what we are together.
A family.