The Right Kind of Fool Page 23

  “Woman, if I’m going to talk to Virgil, I’m going to have the conversation sitting up in a chair instead of lying in bed.” He eased onto a chair as though it were made of glass. Or maybe as though he were made of glass. Beads of sweat popped out on his brow, and his hand strayed to his injured side. He forced a smile and leaned against the table. From the expression on his face, it didn’t do much to lessen the pain he must be feeling.

  “Virgil can walk up those stairs easier than you can walk down them,” Delphy said. “I don’t know why you’re so determined to act like you weren’t almost killed just a few days ago.”

  “I was a long way from death’s doorstep,” he said, swiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Exercise will do me good.” He grinned, but his lips were tight, and his eyes glittered. “Where’s Loyal?”

  “He and Michael are playing cards on the front porch. The swelling’s gone down on that ankle, but I don’t want him overdoing it.”

  She saw words taking shape on his lips, yet he bit down on them. Good. He wasn’t in the best position to stick his oar in on her parenting right at that moment. She set a plate of tea cakes on the table and put out some of her nice china cups, along with a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Virgil won’t know what to make of all this. I don’t think he’s used to fancy.”

  Delphy made a humphing sound. “Fancy. This is no more than I’d do for anyone else sitting down at my table. And Julia has plenty of nice things.” Creed was right. It probably was silly, but lately she’d been feeling domestic.

  Creed reached out and hooked an arm around her waist as she came near. He tugged at her until she stopped and let him draw her close. She knew it had to hurt, the stretching and pulling, so she went to him willingly and gently.

  “You’re acting like a hen caught in the rain.” He settled his head against her side. “What’s the matter?”

  She didn’t know how tense she was until she relaxed against him. She let her hand stray to the overlong hair at the nape of his neck. She felt him relax, as well. “I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice was small and quiet.

  Creed stilled and seemed about to speak, but she pulled away when she saw Virgil coming in through the back door. He grinned. “Looks like you’re recovering just fine.”

  “Wasn’t much more than a scratch,” Creed said.

  Delphy thumped the coffeepot down on the worn table, glared at him, and leaned against the sink with her arms crossed. If he was going to act the fool, she was going to at least keep an eye on him.

  Creed frowned at her but didn’t suggest she leave. “What’s happening with Judge Kline?”

  The sheriff eyed her warily as if considering whether or not he could talk in front of her. She tightened her arms and stared him right in the eye. He gave his head a little shake and turned to Creed. “We got a rush on a ballistics report for that bullet Bernie dug out of your back. It matches the bullet that killed Eddie Minks.”

  Delphy’s hand flew to her mouth, but she managed to keep quiet.

  “So, Sam’s the killer,” Creed said, looking wilted.

  “Most likely. Problem is, all that ballistics test proves is that Sam’s gun killed Eddie. It doesn’t tell us who pulled the trigger. And we have yet to run Sam to ground. But even if we do, he may have gotten rid of the rifle.” Virgil poured coffee into a dainty china cup and then spent some time figuring out how to pick it up. He glanced at Delphy as he lifted the cup by its rim and took a slurp. She tried not to smile in spite of the sober topic. “Which is to say we have some important evidence, but it still doesn’t tell us the whole story.”

  “Does it let Otto and Hadden off the hook at least?” Creed asked.

  “While it’s not what Judge Kline would call ‘conclusive,’ it sure as heck makes it hard to argue either one of ’em would’ve had access to Sam Hacker’s fancy rifle.”

  Creed leaned on the table, and Delphy could see the sheen of perspiration across his face. She figured right about now he was wishing he’d taken her advice and stayed in bed. “So what now?” he asked.

  “I was hoping to talk to Loyal.”

  Delphy took a step toward them. “About what?” she demanded.

  “Anything he might’ve seen while he was with Sam Hacker.”

  Creed looked at her. “It sure would be easier for Virgil—and Loyal—if you’d translate.”

  She pinched her lips. “Is this official police business? Are you suggesting we go to your office or the courthouse?”

  “No, I’d just like to talk to the boy—unofficially—to see if there’s anything we need to make more official.” He smiled and picked up a tea cake. “And I sure would be grateful for your assistance.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t try to butter me up, Virgil. I’ll do it, but for Loyal’s sake—not yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go fetch Loyal.”

  Virgil let out a low, almost-silent whistle she was pretty sure she wasn’t meant to hear and gave Creed a look that she decided to take as a compliment.

  Loyal was beating Michael at gin rummy when Mother stepped out onto the porch. He sensed the tension in the air before he realized she had joined them. She was smiling, but it didn’t look right. He was on his guard immediately.

  She began signing while speaking aloud for Michael’s benefit. “The sheriff wants to talk to you.”

  Talk about what? he signed back.

  She finger-spelled S-a-m H-a-c-k-e-r.

  Loyal nodded. Finally the sheriff wanted to hear what he knew. He laid his cards facedown, shook a finger at Michael, and followed Mother inside, only limping a little.

  In the kitchen, Father sat at the table with Sheriff White. Loyal smiled, glad to see his father up and around. You okay? he signed. Father smiled and made the sign for yes. Pleased, Loyal stood and waited for the sheriff’s first question.

  Sheriff White looked at Father and asked, “Can you talk with your hands now?”

  “Not much,” Father said. He smiled at Loyal. “But I’m learning.”

  Happiness swelled in Loyal’s chest. Father was learning to sign, and the sheriff wanted to hear what he knew. The sheriff tapped his arm. Loyal gave him his full attention.

  “How are you feeling?” the sheriff asked. “Looks like you’re limping some.”

  Loyal furrowed his brow. He thought they were going to talk about Sam.

  Fine, he signed, and Mother translated.

  “Good, good. I guess you know why I want to ask you some questions?” Mother’s hands flew as the sheriff spoke.

  Loyal frowned. He wasn’t a baby. He glanced at Mother and began signing. She translated, her lips not quite matching her hands as she shifted what he shaped into words that flowed smoothly for hearing people.

  Sam told his brother he killed the man. I saw them talking.

  Virgil’s eyebrows shot up toward his naked scalp. “When did this happen?”

  I could see through a crack in the door.

  “When you were inside the springhouse?” Loyal was grateful for Mother’s signing. The sheriff’s lips were pretty easy to read, but it was much easier to follow Mother’s hands.

  Yes. They argued about it. Glen said Sam was only supposed to scare the man, but he shot him.

  Mother’s lips tightened. Loyal guessed she didn’t like knowing how he’d spied.

  Virgil licked his lips and looked toward Father. “Loyal’s testimony combined with the ballistics and the way Sam’s running should be enough to convict him if we can catch him.”

  “Testimony?” Loyal could tell the single word was a question.

  “I expect Judge Kline will want Loyal to take the stand.”

  Mother frowned, and Father shifted in his chair. Maybe because he was hurting or maybe because he didn’t like the idea of Loyal in a courtroom. Loyal stood straight and tall. “I’ll testify.” He spoke the words, hoping his voice didn’t sound too rusty. It had been a while since he last spoke.

  “Will that really be necessary?�
� Mother asked. Loyal had to read her lips—her hands had fallen into her lap like weary birds in a nest.

  “Probably,” Sheriff White said. “Why? That’s not a problem, is it? Are you worried about the boy’s safety?”

  Father spoke then. “I expect we can keep him safe.” He darted a look at Mother, who frowned more deeply. “Why can’t he just talk to Judge Kline?” she asked.

  “If Earl wasn’t gumming up the works, we might could get by with that. As it is, I expect we’re going to have to put on a proper show.” He glanced at Loyal and winked. “And I expect this young man will do a fine job.”

  Loyal felt his chest expand another notch. He smiled. Maybe he was going to get this right after all. Maybe he was going to make Father proud at long last.

  thirty-two

  I don’t like it.” Delphy said, trying to help Creed as he resettled himself in bed. He grunted and flinched. She felt certain the strain of walking and sitting at the table with Virgil had exhausted him. For her part, the conversation itself was causing her mother’s heart pain and she could feel her patience thinning.

  “What don’t you like?” Creed settled against the propped pillows with a sigh and closed his eyes. He looked pale, but this was no time to spare him. Delphy folded the clothes he’d traded for a nightshirt and tucked them in a dresser drawer.

  “I don’t like the idea of Loyal having to testify in front of a courtroom full of people.”

  “Why not?” he asked, eyes still closed.

  She frowned. “What do you mean ‘why not’? Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not to me.” He patted the bed next to him. “Come sit and tell me what’s got you riled.”

  Seeing him there in her bed, weak and tired, loosened something inside her. She eased down beside him, and he twined his hand with hers. “I’ve tried so hard to keep him safe,” she said, and even she could hear the tears in her voice. “And this summer he’s been anything but. I just want to tuck him away where nothing can hurt him.” She swallowed the tears. “Where no one can hurt him. People can be so cruel.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Creed squeezed her hand. “I don’t know, Delphy. After all the time I’ve spent with that boy the last few weeks, I’m beginning to think he’s a lot stronger and smarter than I ever knew.” His eyes were open now, and Delphy felt almost as if she was being lectured. “Seems to me it might be time for us to let him grow up a bit—stretch his wings. I think he’ll do fine.”

  Delphy jerked her hand away and stood abruptly, ignoring the flash of pain her sudden movement caused him. “You think? Time we let him grow up? Where have you been all these growing-up years? What makes you think you have the right to parent him now?” The anger and fear she’d felt when she didn’t know where her son was bubbled up in her, and although she knew she should stop, she didn’t. “Seems to me the last time you made a decision about what was best for our son, he ended up deaf.”

  The words dropped like stones. She froze as if she’d heard them strike the floor between them. The look on his face told her he’d felt them hit, as well. He seemed to be searching for something to say but she turned and fled the room before he could return her volley.

  Delphy hid in the lavatory and closed the door. She caught a glimpse of herself in the glass hanging there and had to look away for shame. There was no excuse for her words, but she didn’t know how to take them back. She buried her face in her hands and remembered how it was in the beginning.

  Once they’d finally learned what was wrong with Loyal, it hadn’t taken long for word to get around the community. People said things like “I’m praying for your family,” or “At least he can see,” or “Maybe he’ll grow out of it.” Each time someone commented, it felt like condolences, like there had been a death and people were offering cold comfort. Then Creed stopped spending time with neighbors or chatting with others at church and began spending more time in the old cabin up on the mountain. And eventually he stopped living with his family—with her—altogether.

  She’d blamed other people for driving him up there. Had blamed his own guilt, which was palpable in those days after they knew Loyal would never regain his hearing. But hadn’t she pushed him away, as well? Didn’t she blame him more than she’d allowed herself to admit? The venom that had just poured out of her had taken her by surprise. She lifted her head and looked in the mirror. Perhaps it was past time she took a hard look at how she’d handled her marriage instead of lashing out at her husband.

  “As much as I want Daddy to come home, I wish we could just stay here.” Rebecca and Loyal sat under the cedar in the backyard that had become the place they gravitated to when Mother ran them out of the house. Loyal had been telling her how the sheriff had come by the day before to explain that he would get to testify. Honestly he was pretty excited about it.

  Rebecca had begun to use a combination of words and signs. Loyal was continuing to teach both brother and sister his language, and Rebecca in particular took to it easily. Of course, she also had that knack for understanding him—knowing what it was he wanted to say even without words. Not even Mother understood him so well.

  Good, signed Loyal. I like you here. She smiled radiantly at him. “I know two languages now,” she said. “We can talk to each other, even if we’re not close together.” She made a movement that Loyal had learned was a giggle. “If you went to my school, we could talk in class or out on the playground and no one else would know what we’re saying.”

  Loyal’s smile faded. If only. He’d rather go to school with regular kids. The school for the deaf was a good place, but he hated leaving home and it made him feel . . . different. Of course, he was different, but hadn’t he proved this summer that he could get along just fine in the world of the hearing? I want to go to school with you, he signed.

  Rebecca furrowed her brow. “What’s this mean?” she asked, mimicking the sign for school. Loyal finger-spelled the word. “Oh.” She repeated the sign. “Kind of like stacking books or pieces of paper. That makes sense.” Then she looked at him with her head to one side. “Why can’t you come to school here if you want to?”

  He signed, Mother, Father won’t allow. He made a face and rolled his eyes. Rebecca laughed. “That must mean your parents won’t let you go.” She looked serious. “Are they worried the other kids will make fun of you? Or that you’ll have a hard time learning?” Loyal shrugged. “Why don’t you ask them again? A lot has happened this summer—maybe they’ll change their minds.”

  Loyal let his shoulders droop. Rebecca smiled. “Oh, come on. It can’t hurt to ask.” Loyal grinned. You help, he signed. “Help you ask your parents?” He nodded. Rebecca jumped to her feet. “Sure. Let’s do it now!” Loyal scrambled to his feet beside her. She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the house. He could see she was laughing and so he did, too. She didn’t even flinch at the sound.

  Inside, Mother and Father were drinking coffee at the kitchen table. They looked serious, and the air between them felt heavy—it had been ever since the sheriff talked to them the day before. Loyal hoped they hadn’t been talking about him or the upcoming trial. He figured it would be one more way to prove he could get along fine in a hearing world. But it seemed to worry his parents.

  Rebecca must have spoken. But he wasn’t watching, so he missed whatever she said. Then she turned toward him and nodded. He realized his mouth was dry. He flexed his fingers and began signing to Mother, asking her to tell Father what he was saying. She nodded. Loyal worried the inside of his cheek as he thought how to phrase his request. Then he began signing, slowly, thinking through each gesture.

  “I want to go to school here in Beverly with Rebecca and the other kids.” Mother was frowning but her lips kept moving. “I’ve done a lot this summer, proven that I can get along fine. I want to be like the other kids.” Mother’s expression got wistful, and Loyal let himself hope.

  He looked at Father, who was already shaking his head. “Sign for me, Delphy.” He turned to Mother, on
ly glancing at Loyal once he spoke. “That school teaches things Loyal can’t learn anywhere else.” Loyal wanted to tell Father he could talk to him rather than about him but didn’t want to rock the boat. “Teachers in Beverly wouldn’t know what to do with a deaf student. He probably wouldn’t learn half as much, and it’s not like the teachers would have the time to do extra to help him keep up.”

  Mother nodded and began signing her own words. “That’s true. I think your father is right.” Loyal felt his hope fade.

  Father looked Loyal in the eyes. “Son, you have done a lot this summer. But much of it has been running off to take matters into your own hands without telling anyone.” Father’s whole body looked taut. “I’ve not taken you to task before this, but three times now you’ve gotten yourself into trouble by running off when you’d been told to stay put.” Father made the sign for stay. Loyal was annoyed that he got it right. “You’ve caused your mother a whole lot of worry. I don’t think you’re ready yet for the real world.” He paused and forced a smile. “Hey, the county fair’s coming up soon—just before school starts. You can go to that with your friends this year instead of with your mother or me.”

  Loyal flinched. Not only was Father denying him what he wanted most but he was also confirming what Loyal had long suspected. Father didn’t think his deaf world was “real.” He didn’t think Loyal or his way of speaking was good enough for regular folks beyond a silly county fair. He clenched his jaw and nodded, then turned and left the room.

  Rebecca reached out to grasp his hand, but he shook her off. He could feel her sorrow hanging in the air behind him but ignored it. She probably didn’t think his world was real either. She just thought it was different or strange. Well. He wasn’t going to make a spectacle of himself anymore.

  That night, Delphy slid into bed beside Creed. She’d been sleeping with Rebecca in the guest room but apparently thought him sufficiently improved for company. Her warmth and sweet scent made him wish he were more completely healed than he was. And that they hadn’t had words earlier in the week. He took her hand and tugged it until she curled into his side.