Tom leans forward. “The one who sent the candy? I thought shewas younger—a little girl who follows me around.”
“Where did you hear that, Craddock? As you can see, MissGrayson’s fully-grown.”
My spectacles attract some interest at this point and Tominquires about them. Kelly points out that I am blind and mute—also that Isign, ride a horse named Jupiter, and throw knives.
“Knives, did you say?” Tom asks.
“You taught her how. Hester can hit the wing on a gnat at fiftypaces. It’s amazing.”
“What else did I teach her?”
“Hmm.” Kelly deliberates for a moment. “You two kissed a lot.”
Tom sputters. “Excuse me?”
“You loved her.”
I make a fist with my left hand and spread the fingers of myright, bringing my palm down and touching the fist. Enough! I sign.
The doctor doesn’t agree. “It had to be said, Hester. Everyword’s true.”
Tom curses as he turns my way again, his wound protesting themovement. “What’s she doing with her hands?”
“That’s sign. You didn’t like me teaching her the language, butyou tolerated it. Barely. I’m afraid you’re the jealous type.”
“Where did we meet?”
“Let’s have her answer that, Tom. Ask her questions, and I’lltranslate. And remember to look at Hester, not me. I’m her voice, but she’s theone doing the talking.”
I inhale, afraid yet excited.
“Where did we meet?” Tom asks again.
My face breaks into a smile at the memory and I fingerspell theword. H-O-L-L-I-S-T-E-R-S. I cannot sign fast enough as I share thestory.
“In front of the dry goods store,” Kelly says. “Six years ofage. Hester wanted a piece of your toffee and you offered her some. Friendsever since.”
“Why aren’t we married then?”
The smile disappears from my lips, and I worry for a momentthat he won’t understand our situation. Kelly clears his throat, a gentlereminder that Tom is waiting for me to continue, and I fumble through my reply.
“You work hard on the ranch. Family needs you. Good son.”
Tom kicks something off his bed. Might have been a quilt fromthe sound of it. “After listening to my mother go on and on this afternoon,you’d think I was an indentured servant in my own home. Maybe I don’t want toremember any of this.”
I shake my head and keep signing, trying to convince him thathis life wasn’t all bad, that our future was worth the work.
It’s funny to hear Kelly speak such words for me. “I would havemarried you. Lived in a shack and been happy. But you wanted more for your wifeand children.”
Tom thinks a spell and then sighs. “The nurses said I saved mylady friend from a murderer and got shot. I must have loved you to do that.”
Kelly reads my response and then puts it into words. “Braveman. Strong. Would have done it for anyone.”
“I might think of my own skin next time. Safer that way.”
I’ve never heard Tom say a cynical word in his life. He bearshis challenges with grace and humor, and his capacity to love, soothe, andprotect are nearly inexhaustible. I sense a hardness, an anger, in this personbefore me—as though he is the negative reflection of the man I know and love.
I picture the world as New Tom must see it—poor family, sickfather, work always looming on the horizon, and a handicapped sweetheart whodepends upon him heavily. No wonder he’s reluctant to pick up where he leftoff. It’s easy to imagine those beautiful black eyes turning as cold as hisvoice.
A nurse requests Kelly’s help, and he leaves with her. I take adeep breath, hoping it will bring me inner peace. Should I reach out to Tomnow? See if we’re still telepathically joined? I hear him remove his glass fromthe side table and drink again. Closing my eyes, I focus on the sound of myheart. I send him all the love and concern welling within me.
Tom? My dearest, are you there? How I’ve missed you!
The words catch him mid-gulp, and he sprays water all over theplace—his blanket, my lap, the floor. The glass hits the tile and shatters.Sound waves bounce around my ears and into my head. Ouch.
Tom moves about on his mattress, obviously searching the room.“Who was that?”
Kelly returns from his errand a moment later, and takes theother chair. Dash it all! Why did he have to come back so soon? Impatient and alittle desperate, I try to contact Tom again.
Please remember. I need you, like air and sunlight.
Tom flings himself out of the bed, stumbles against my chair,and falls across me. A moment later, he puts his hand on the back of the chairand pushes away. His stitches must hurt because he groans in pain. I hate thatTom hurts, but it feels so sweet to have him close. Kelly tells him to remainstill and calls a nurse to sweep up the glass. Amid the chaos, I smell fear onTom. All-consuming, smothering.
The doctor gets him back to bed and begins checking hisstitches. I remove my right glove and reach out, finding Tom’s hand danglingover the side of the mattress. Our connection is open! Yet I see violent imagessurge through his head—a soft, beguiling voice attached to them. Stay awayfrom the girl, it seems to say. She’s the root of your troubles. Herfault, all her fault. Then Tom slams the telepathic door closed.
No. Let me in. Let me help.
I try to reconnect and fail. Try many times but nothing works.What was that awful thing inside Tom’s mind? How can he stand it?
“You’re rubbing your temple, Craddock,” Kelly observes. “Doesit hurt?”
I lift my head when the doctor’s comment finally sinks in. Odi immortales. Please, not Tom. But truth tightens my bones, and I realizewhat has happened to the person I love most. That horrible, irresistible voicein his head is the heir of Archimendax.
My love mumbles incoherently for a moment before returning toaudible speech. “Take her away. I don’t want company.”
The doctor puts his hand under my elbow and helps me to myfeet. We leave Tom and walk out of the ward. “He’s just tired, Hester,” Kellysays. “Come back tomorrow, after lessons at my office. I’m sure Craddock willfeel better then.”
He leads me to the stairs, toward Cordelia
