The Holiday Courtship

Janell dried her hands on a clean rag. “There are two different skills involved. First we’ll work on the alphabet.” She held her hand up and began to form the shapes. “This is A, and this is B, and this is C.”

She was surprised by how quickly the movements came back to her. It had been four years since she’d had occasion to use sign language.

Because that was how long it had been since she’d last seen her family.

* * *

As Hank watched her contort her fingers into the shapes for each letter, he wondered if he’d ever be able to duplicate her motions, especially with such grace. He’d have to learn twenty-six of these signs?

“What about Alex?” he asked. “I’m sure he knows his letters, but I’m not sure he can form words yet.”

“Unless the school where he’s from is significantly different from Turnabout’s, at age eight he should at least be able to spell simple words, but you’re probably right that he’ll have limitations. So that means he won’t be able to use very much of that skill just yet. The burden for much of that will be on you. But I’m certain Alex will manage enough to communicate with Chloe. And he can learn the other component to signing.”

“Which is?”

“There are signs that encompass whole words and even phrases. Some are fairly obvious.” She crossed her wrists over her chest. “This is love.” She shifted, pressing her palms together. “This is praying.” Then she opened her palms, keeping the edge of her hands touching. “This is book or reading.”

“That seems much more practical than the alphabet.”

“They both have their place. There are some things that there’s no shorthand for, such as proper names.” She gave him a warning look. “And not all signs are quite that obvious. For instance, this means play.” She held both hands out about chest high, extended her thumbs and pinkies, then wiggled the hands themselves. “And this means work.” She made loose fists with both hands then tapped the right with the left twice.

“How long did it take before you were able to really communicate with your sister?”

“Well, it certainly didn’t happen overnight.” She placed the last of the dishes in the rinse water and emptied the washbasin. “Once we found someone to teach us what to do and to provide the materials we’d need, it took a few weeks before we really felt as if we were making progress. The hardest thing with Lizzie—and I think this will be true of Chloe, too—was convincing her that it would truly help make her life better.”

Reading between the lines of some of the things she’d said, it sounded as if she came from a well-to-do family. It made sense—she seemed to have the manner, speech and education of someone who’d grown up with certain advantages.

So how had she ended up in Turnabout?

“What were these materials you got access to?” And what had they cost? He intended to do whatever he could to help Chloe. But at the moment he didn’t have a lot of money to spare.

She waved a hand. “Mostly texts on sign language and a few academic texts outlining what we as a family could expect and how best to deal with Lizzie.”

“Do you still have them?”

She nodded. “In fact, I still have the notebook I made on the subject of sign language. The rest stayed in Dentonville. But I’ve sent letters to my sister and to Dr. Carson requesting whatever they can spare.” She dried her hands again, then moved toward the hall. “I brought my notebook with me so you can take a look at it if you like.”

Miss Whitman might be a bit too take-charge for his liking, but she was definitely going above and beyond what he’d expected.

He had the last dish dried and put away by the time she returned. “So when do we start?”

“I assume you’ll be taking the two of them to church tomorrow?”

She still seemed to have trouble giving a direct answer. As he thought about her question, though, he shifted. Could he really get the kids ready to go if Chloe pulled one of her stubborn, you-can’t-make-me maneuvers?

Seeming to read his mind, Miss Whitman pursed her lips. “You need to be firm with Chloe. She’s really more scared than anything else.” She set the notebook on the table. “The best thing you can do is to keep the world around her as normal as possible and not let her retreat into herself.”

Easier said than done. “I’ll do my best.”

She smiled. “I know you will. If it’s all right with you, I’ll sit in the same pew with the three of you so there will be someone else they know.”

He moved to the table. “I’m sure the kids will appreciate that.” And he wouldn’t mind having the extra support nearby, either.

She took a seat at the table, seeming to hesitate for a moment. “There are a few things you should watch out for. The townsfolk here, for the most part, are a friendly and caring group. They will naturally welcome the three of you back and commiserate with you and the children on your loss.”

She clasped her hands on the table. “Some will already know of Chloe’s condition, but some folks may not. Regardless, there will be some awkward moments and faux pas. It may make Alex uncomfortable, and whether she understands what’s being said or not, Chloe will find all of it overwhelming. We’ll need to shield them from as much of this as we can.”

Hank joined her at the table. He felt an unaccountable urge to grasp those clasped hands of hers just to see if they felt as warm and soft as they looked. Then he gave his head a mental shake and raised his gaze to meet hers. “Perhaps it would be best if I kept her home this Sunday.”

But Miss Whitman shook her head firmly. “The sooner she’s forced to go out among people again, the sooner she’ll learn to adjust. We just need to be careful, however we react to what happens tomorrow, that we don’t make her feel singled out or that we are in any way ashamed of her.”

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