They stopped in the doorway, suddenly silent. Suddenly shy.
For some reason, I felt a little shy myself.
“Charlotte, Lucas, this is Alyssa,” Spencer said.
“Hi,” Lucas said in a small voice, and Charlotte gave a little wave.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I told them.
“Alyssa’s going to be staying with us for a while,” Spencer said. “She needs lots of rest so that she can get better, so you’ll have to keep from running around and making too much noise, okay?”
They both nodded as they watched me with curiosity on their faces.
“She just moved to town,” Spencer continued. “Maybe you two can help her learn more about what there is to do in Lake Boise, since she’s new.”
“Okay,” Lucas said. Charlotte nodded and made a rapid movement with her hands.
My head swung around to Spencer. I’d been watching the kids’ reactions while he spoke, so I hadn’t even noticed his hands moving, too. “No, she can’t walk right now, but she’ll be able to soon.” His hands danced as he spoke, and I realized he was using sign language.
Charlotte signed something back.
“She’s going to need a lot of help, yes. Are you two up for the job?”
Both nodded eagerly, and then signed to each other. Lucas was obviously fluent in sign language, too. “Can I see her cast?” he asked.
“Why don’t you ask her?” Spencer said, still signing as he spoke.
“Can I see your cast, Miss Alyssa?”
“Sure. And you can just call me Alyssa.” His eyebrows rose, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake.
Belatedly, it dawned on me that adding “Miss” in front of a first name was pretty common in the South—or at least TV and movies seemed to think so. Before moving here, I’d done plenty of research on my new company, but not much about the culture in Louisiana.
Oh, well … staying with a family was probably the best way to learn. Then again, Spencer didn’t sound like he was from here, either. He didn’t have the Southern lilt to his voice that Raphael did.
Lucas drew closer and stared in awe at the hard plaster that encased 80% of my leg, while Charlotte hung back. “Does it hurt?” he asked.
“A little, but I think that’s because it’s new. It’ll keep my leg still while it heals, and that’s the important part.”
A movement in the corner of my eye let me know that Charlotte was signing with her father again. It had never occurred to me that if you were looking in the wrong direction, you’d never know two people in the room were conversing at all.
Spencer nodded. “Yes, those are your socks. We haven’t gotten Alyssa’s things from her apartment yet.”
She signed again, and I glanced at Spencer for a translation. “She says you can keep them.”
“Thank you.”
Spencer looked back at his daughter. “Can you come say hi to Alyssa?” I wasn’t an expert, but it looked like he’d spelled out my name. I’d never thought about how personal names were said in sign language, but I’d seen interpreters on television spell out words before.
Charlotte turned to me and signed something. I smiled at her, but I didn’t know what else to do.
Spencer did, however. “She doesn’t understand ASL,” he said. At least I knew enough to know that that stood for American Sign Language. “She’s the one who saved Lucas the other day. Can you say hello to her?”
I waited, unsure about what kind of speaking skills a deaf child her age had. But she didn’t speak as she walked toward me. Instead, she crawled onto the far side of the bed, made her way over to me, and gave me a big hug.
5
Spencer
“Is she asleep?” Raphael asked as he stood at the counter, chopping vegetables.
His question made me grin. It was the kind of thing we’d asked each other thousands of times when the twins were young.
“I think so.” The kids were watching TV very quietly in the front room. I’d made them keep the volume off. Charlotte only needed the closed captions anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt for Lucas to read them, too. “I doubt she’ll be up for dinner. She looked exhausted.”
My brother-in-law nodded. “Those pain meds are pretty powerful. Guess it’s not much of a surprise, since her leg’s so messed up.”
I winced. It was impossible to forget that had she not acted so quickly, it would be Lucas who was that badly injured—or worse.
“Let’s grill tonight,” I said suddenly.
“I’ve already got the sausages in the skillet,” Raphael protested. He usually cooked dinner. I stuck with breakfast, packing the twins’ lunches, and occasionally grilling out on the deck.
“Fish them out and I’ll toss them on the grill.”
Rafe ignored me, and I didn’t blame him. He had dinner under control and didn’t need me butting in. Plus, the kids loved the way he prepared andouille sausage.