Nancy nods and takes my hand. We walk in silence, my mind full.
To my surprise, I notice that I do feel a little lighter, as if something has been lifted from me.
Is my brother at rest? Or have I finally unburdened myself of my darkest secret by sharing it with Nancy?
As we approach my house, we see Reverend Lee’s cart. We look at each other, horrified.
When we enter the house, I grab Nancy’s hand. The reverend and the young scientist are talking with Mama and Papa. I catch my breath. Up close, he looks so startlingly like George that I wonder for a moment if we could have actually resurrected him! Is he a revenant?
When the lithe frame moves, the illusion is broken.
I notice six chairs at the table. We haven’t had dinner guests since George died.
I take off my cloak, hat, and shoes. Nancy does the same. Our clothes and hair are untidy, but no one seems to notice. Mama and Papa must be preoccupied with our guests because they don’t ask where we’ve been or why we’re so late getting back.
Reverend Lee interprets for the young stranger.
“Salutations,” he says, extending his hand to Papa, “I am Andrew Noble.”
Papa introduces me and Nancy. The newcomer gives us a cordial bow.
“Andrew’s father, John, and I were at seminary together,” Reverend Lee signs and speaks. Reverend Lee is a kindly man, so tall and thin, he seems to sway in a strong breeze like the branches of a beetlebung tree. Like the tree, the top of his head is rounded, and he stoops a bit.
“John left Andover to return to his home in Greenwich, Connecticut. And, well, here I am.”
“Are you going on to study the clay cliffs in Gay Head?” Papa asks Andrew, with Reverend Lee interpreting. “Others have come from the mainland to behold their majesty.”
“No,” Andrew says, laughing. He turns away from Papa and directs his response toward Mama and Reverend Lee.
That is considered rude in our society. I’ll excuse him because he is unaware of our customs. There must be fewer deaf people where he comes from.
“I am more interested in facts than a fetching view.” Andrew Noble sits upright with his head tilted backward, giving off an air of self-importance. If Ezra Brewer were here, he would roll his eyes.
Mama leads the group back toward the kitchen.
I see Papa pick marsh grasses out of Nancy’s hair. He stares at it and then at Nancy. She blushes and stammers with her hands. Papa looks at her for a moment before turning to the others. I feel my face flush. Does he suspect us?
The kitchen looks livelier than it has in months, with polished silver candlesticks and laundered napkins. As I am helping Mama lay out the dishes, she eyes me and then the table.
I look down, feeling guilty that she had to prepare the meal and polish the silver without my help. When I look up again to make eye contact with her, she already has her head bowed in prayer.
After Reverend Lee’s benediction, Mama and I serve lobster, mussels, and corn. I wonder if Andrew will like our island fare. Having missed afternoon tea, I am hungry.
As I eat, I examine Andrew. He is older and spindlier than George. His waist is probably smaller than Mama’s. He has blue eyes; not quite as light as Mama’s and George’s, nor as dark as Ezra Brewer’s. I like his hair. It’s dark with waves swept back from his smooth forehead. His hands, with long fingers, show no signs of hard labor.
“What brings you to the Vineyard, then?” Papa asks Andrew.
Mama pushes her chair back from the table so she can interpret spoken words for me and Papa, and sign language for Andrew. Nancy and Reverend Lee listen and watch.
Reverend Lee shifts in his chair and wrings his hands. Why is he anxious? Does he know what Nancy and I have done? Will he tell our parents?
“As it happens,” Andrew Noble says, “I met a man who visited your island and had quite a story to tell. I wanted to see for myself, so my father wrote a letter of introduction to his school friend Reverend Lee, and I traveled here by schooner.”
Andrew is answering Papa’s question but again speaking directly to Mama. Why won’t he address Papa?
“There are many stories from the island,” Mama signs and speaks. “You shouldn’t believe all of them.”
Papa, Nancy, and I turn toward Andrew with curiosity.
Andrew continues, “The sailor in the New Haven tavern explained to me that there are a large number of deaf and dumb in your town. I can see for myself that is true.”
“It has always been that way,” Nancy blurts out, expressing what I’m thinking. “At least, since Mary’s great-great-grandfather Jonathan Lambert arrived on the island.”
Andrew glances at Nancy in a way that makes me realize he is the kind of person who thinks children should be seen rather than heard. Mama has commented on Nancy’s poor manners in the past, but now looks at her more sympathetically.
“It is true,” Mama signs. “It is nothing unusual.”
“Perhaps not for you,” Andrew says, “but I have never seen the likes of it. I intend to discover the cause of the deafness on your island.”
A good interpreter does not censor for his audience and lets them draw their own conclusions. But I wonder if Mama feels awkward interpreting Andrew’s speech.
“Surely, the deaf exist elsewhere,” Reverend Lee signs. He quotes Romans, “O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!”
“They don’t exist in great number elsewhere,” Andrew perseveres. “And most of them reside in asylums or beg for alms on the street. They are not capable of earning their keep.”
Now I think Andrew Noble is the one telling stories.
Why should the deaf be different anywhere else? Why shouldn’t they be seamen like Ezra Brewer
