Angel Smits - The Ballerina's Stand

Maxine barely let her sit down. “What attorney?”

There was no sense lying. Lauren had to tell her, and now. If she found out later, there would be hell to pay, and Dylan would be the one paying. “He has a sister—”

“Is she deaf?”

Lauren watched Maxine make the familiar sign, and for an instant, it flashed through her mind that it was an odd one. Deaf, and yet she pointed at her ear and then her mouth. “No.” Lauren shook her head. “She hears.” Her own gesture, a spiral from the lips seemed just as odd. Backward almost.

“She dance?”

Lauren shook her head. Tina had refused all offers of classes, though Dylan had said she’d been keen on it until she was about six, which would have been about the time their father had gone to prison.

“Attorney?” Maxine prompted.

She explained the situation to Maxine, and the older woman rolled her eyes. “Youth.” She shook her head as her hand bounced in the air at the height of a child’s head. “I don’t tolerate troublemakers.”

Lauren remembered learning that lesson the hard way. The one and only time she’d rebelled against Maxine’s authority had been her junior year in high school. And as punishment, Maxine had taken the lead in The Nutcracker away from her.

Maxine taught her that you don’t just work to earn something—you continue working to keep it. They both lived by that rule.

After a short pause, Maxine leaned forward and met Lauren’s gaze. “The police didn’t know he was deaf, did they?” Maxine knew all of Lauren’s fears.

Lauren slowly shook her head. The fear of being misunderstood and mistaken for insane, or drunk or high had haunted Lauren since childhood. She shuddered.

“Who is the attorney? Did you call Wakefield?” Maxine’s attorney was as much friend as lawyer, but he was retired now. To be honest, there’d only been one attorney who had come to mind when she’d needed one.

Jason Hawkins. She forced herself not to smile. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Ah.” Maxine’s eyebrow rose and she laid a hand on Lauren’s arm. “Someone else.” Keen interest shone on Maxine’s face.

Another eyebrow lifted. Lauren was surprised Maxine didn’t ask any more questions. Maxine surprised her even more by pulling her hand back and preparing to leave.

They were at the front door before Maxine said anything else. Hudson was at the curb, standing in the awful LA heat in that ugly black uniform. He’d already opened the back door of the Cadillac.

Maxine stopped and met Lauren’s gaze. She didn’t sign. “You know I love you as if you were my own.”

Lauren nodded.

“If you ever, ever need anything, you know you can always come to me.”

Lauren’s eyes misted. “I know.” She pointed at her heart, then her forehead, slowly, making the first part longer than the second, to emphasize the strong love that beat in her chest for this woman.

Did Maxine actually think she wouldn’t turn to her if she needed her? Her last, and best, foster mother had been there so many times, Lauren had lost count.

Maybe she should have called Wakefield... No. She’d have only been doing it to please Maxine, which would have given her the opportunity to interfere.

Jason was the best choice. She didn’t stop to analyze why she’d come to that conclusion.

On impulse, Lauren hugged Maxine hoping that somehow that told the woman how much she meant to her.

* * *

THE CLASSROOM IN the basement of The Y had to be fifty years old. Long tables were set up classroom style. Susan was already there, still wearing her business suit and pumps. He’d have to tell her that while this was technically on the clock, she could dress down.

Several other people were also present. An older man, two teens and a young woman who stared at her phone. A middle-aged woman was at the front of the class, pulling books and papers out of a satchel.

Old habits died hard, and Jason snagged a chair in the back. He’d just settled when the teacher turned around and counted heads. Then she turned to the old-fashioned chalk board and wrote Anne Sidel on it. She pulled out a notebook and faced them.

“That’s me,” she said, a slight accent to her words. He frowned, finally noticing the hearing aids nestled in her ears. “I’m your teacher for this class. Let’s take care of a little business before we get started.”

From the list in her hand, she read names, waiting for a raised hand instead of the spoken responses. He felt like he was back in fourth grade but abided by her rules. He lifted his hand and spoke. She nodded and check marked on the page.

“Okay, let’s discuss how I’ll conduct this class.” She walked around and sat against the front of her desk. “Tonight is free. We talk. I’ll answer your questions and we’ll go over a few things. After tonight, the class is silent. No speaking.”

She waited for that bit of information to sink in, looking around and meeting every eye with a solid stare. Everyone nodded to her unspoken query. “Questions?”

The girl with the phone tentatively lifted her hand. “No talking. At all?”

“Nope. None.”

“But what if we don’t understand?”

“Finger spell. You’ll have this week to practice.”

“But what if I have to leave unexpectedly?”

“Again, we’ll sign to each other.”

“What if there’s an emergency? Like there’s a fire or something?”

The teacher struggled not to laugh, and Jason realized he liked her.

“You can tell us that. But let me ask you—does the deaf person you’re learning to sign for have that luxury?” The girl stared. “This is the sign for fire.” Anne raised her hands, waving her fingers.

The girl mimicked her. “Oh!” She grinned. “I’m signing.”

Anne turned away briefly, hiding her smile. “I have information and a book for each of you. By next week, practice the alphabet. Here.” She passed the packets to each of them. Jason smiled. He already knew the alphabet. Well, part of it anyway. He just wasn’t very good at it. Yet.

They talked, asking questions, and Anne showed them each the formation of the letters. He could do this.

After class Susan caught up with him. The speculative glint in her eyes was not good. “So, now are you going to explain to me who that woman in the office was?”

He wasn’t escaping. “The Haymaker case? You filed it. That’s the daughter.”

“That’s the daughter?” She stared. “Why didn’t you give her the paperwork?”

He signed. “She doesn’t want it.” He headed toward the parking lot.

“She doesn’t have a choice, does she?”

That’s what Jason needed to figure out.

* * *

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Lauren and Dylan were ushered into a conference room at Jason’s office by the young woman who’d sat at the front desk. Dylan was obviously excited about his training later that day with Maxine, but Lauren could see the fatigue around his eyes. Had he slept at all last night? Was it anticipation, or chasing after Tina, again?

She almost asked him as they were led into the chrome-and-glass conference room, but held back when she saw a woman was already there. The middle-aged woman smiled at them as she introduced herself in sign. Anne Sidel. She was an interpreter and would help with the meeting.

Part of Lauren was disappointed that yet another person would be there to hear Dylan’s story. But she also felt relieved that Jason considered it important enough to get it right. Even though Dylan could speak, his interpreting for her, and trying to get the details right, could be too much. And this was too important.

Jason came in just then, a smile for them both as he held the door for someone behind him. His secretary, Susan, who’d brought the coffee on their first visit, led Will and Rhonda Hancock inside. They were Dylan’s foster parents. Blue-collar and middle class, they were a harried couple. Lauren liked them, but hadn’t quite figured out where Tina and Dylan fit in their busy lives. Both adults worked full-time jobs, often more than forty hours a week.