Chapter 3: Heart to Heart

Author's Note: ALL CAPS indicate ASL (American Sign Language) glossing. It's also in proper ASL syntax, to give you an idea of the difference from English.

Sunday night, 2018

9:00 pm

"Daddy?"

Myles turned from his perusal of the pictures on the mantel to see Rachel standing at the bottom of the stairs. He gave her an exaggerated frown as he signed. NO BED YOU WHY? "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

The eight-year-old nodded soberly. She signed, MOMMY SARAH STORY READ NOW. YOU-ME (we) PLEASE TALK NOW? The fact that she was signing exclusively tipped him off that it was something important, and that Elizabeth probably didn't know she was down here.

Myles motioned her to join him on the sofa, and she snuggled up against him. TALK ABOUT WHAT? He asked, brows raised in question.

She looked at him for a long moment, and a sad expression flashed across her face. YOUR VOICE ME MISS.

He had to swallow hard as it hit. It had only been four years. She'd already been very articulate at age four, so her speech hadn't been a problem; but they'd spent so much time together, reading or her asking him a million questions about everything under the sun.

He'd asked her once why she always preferred him to read to her, instead of Elizabeth. "I love your voice, Daddy," was the simple reply. It was one of the harder adjustments she'd had to make.

Pushing the memory aside, he took her hand and placed it at his throat so she could feel the vibration, and spoke softly. "I know, sweetheart. But you still remember, right?"

Rachel nodded, a smile gracing her fine features. YES. ME REMEMBER ME. YOUR VOICE LOW LIKE LION ROAR.

Myles laughed. "Thanks, I think." Then he reverted to their silent conversation. TALK ABOUT WHAT NOW?

The blue-grey eyes met his again. DADDY SAD TODAY WHY?

He didn't realize it had come across that way. NOT SAD, he tried to explain. Simplifying English into ASL was a feat he still struggled with, even after all this time.

She smiled a little, but the look in her eyes told him she knew better. One dark brow went up as if in puzzlement. NEW JOB. YOU TEACHER. She then smiled and widened her eyes as if in surprise. YOU HAPPY.

Myles sighed; life was so simple when you were eight. YES, he replied. HAPPY. ME RACHEL MORE TIME PLAY. MORE ICE CREAM. He smiled, trying to lighten the serious expression on her sweet face.

She wasn't buying it for a second. ICE CREAM NOT FIX NOW, she signed. DADDY SAD WHY?

He smiled; he couldn't help it. Rachel might have her mother's raven hair and delicate features, but she was Dad's girl through and through. And not just because of her eyes. There was a bond between them that he knew stemmed partially from his protectiveness of her, but also in the fact that she could dive right through to his soul with a glance, and never let him get away with hiding his feelings. Again, just like her mother.

He looked at her for a minute, then attempted to explain. NOT SAD, he began with his brows raised and shaking his head slightly back and forth. BIG CHANGE FOR DADDY, NEW JOB. BIG CHANGE BRING MEMORY MANY. OLD FRIENDS, WORK FRIENDS, DADDY REMEMBER MUCH. SOME HAPPY SOME SAD. DADDY NOT SAD.

Rachel nodded in understanding, her eyes grave. O-K. I UNDERSTAND I. MAKE DADDY HAPPY? PARTY FRIDAY? FINISH MEMORY FINISH?

He gave her a big hug, then kissed her cheek. YES. DADDY HAPPY PARTY MAKE. US SEE FRIENDS. GIVE L-E-V-I LOVE. BED YOU GO NOW. He then held up his right hand with his thumb out, index and pinky fingers raised; he shook it slightly.

OK. I LOVE YOU DADDY. She walked upstairs; at the top, she turned and blew him a kiss, then raced for her room.

Myles chuckled. And to think there was a time when I never thought I could survive parenthood. Now I don't know how I'd survive without them.

But the conversation with Rachel had sent him back into his memories again. His eyes were moist as he slipped back in time to a hospital room, and then a conversation…

May 2014 (four years previous) George Washington University Hospital

Pediatrics, Room 225

Bacterial Meningitis— it struck fear into the heart of any parent, and the Lelands had been no exception. Although the vaccine had improved over the years, it was still not guaranteed. Rachel had been in the hospital for a week now, most of that time semi- or unconscious. She was holding her own, though, and now it looked as though the worst was past. But meningitis could leave any number of aftereffects, and that was the current fear.

Myles sat by her bedside now, absently stroking his youngest daughter's dark hair and letting the prayer in his heart continue its loop. Elizabeth had taken 7-year-old Sarah down to the cafeteria for a snack and a break.

Four years old, he thought, his heart clenching all over again; it had been so common in the past week that he didn't even feel the pain of it anymore. Too young to have to go through this. Too young to stand that close to death. Even if she did beat it this time.

He loved all his "girls" deeply, but Rachel had managed to find a special place in his heart from the moment she was born. He didn't know if it was as simple as the fact that they'd actually been in a hospital this time, that everything had gone as normally as possible, or if it was Rachel herself.

They'd handed her to him as soon as she was cleaned off, while he was still wiping his own hands from cutting the cord, and he'd brought her over to Elizabeth.

"She's beautiful!"

He had smiled. "Just like her mom and her sister. How could she not be?"

At the sound of his voice, two miniature eyes had opened and looked up at him from the folds of the pink blanket. Her eyes weren't the traditional newborn dark blue; they were light, almost grey. They were his eyes, and they were looking right at him as the tiny lips turned up in a genuine little smile.

"Uh-oh," Elizabeth had said, with a loving glance at her husband. "I think someone already has herself wrapped right around Daddy's heart even more than the last one did."

It was true; Rachel had shot straight to his soul and settled in from that moment. Now, to see her lying so still was utter torment, and he'd prayed so many times to let him trade places. He squeezed her hand and let the tears fall.

Suddenly, he felt her hand shift in his, and he looked up. Two beautiful blue-grey eyes were looking at him. "Rachel?" he said, wiping tears away so as not to alarm her.

Her brows drew together slightly as if in confusion. He stroked her cheek. "Rachel, honey, it's okay. The doctor says you're not going to be sick anymore."

She stared at him for a long moment, the same confused expression on her face. Then it changed; a flash of fear swept through those eyes, and she swallowed hard. "Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart, it's Daddy."

The fear spread across her face as her placed a hand to her right ear. She rubbed at it for a second, then tried again. "Daddy?"

"Rachel, what is it?" But somehow he already knew, and he reached for the button to page the nurses' station.

Rachel rubbed both ears this time. "Daddy, why are you whispering? I can't hear your voice." A touch of panic was creeping into her words, along with the fact that it was louder than she'd usually speak.

Myles knew he had to keep her calm until they could determine the extent of the damage. He grabbed a pad of paper Sarah had been drawing on earlier. Rachel could read a little.

Daddy not know why you not hear. We ask the doctor, ok? He held it out to her, and watched fondly as she ran her finger under each word.

Then she looked up. "I… I can't hear me good, too, Daddy. I'm scared." Her breathing was starting to speed up as well. She reached up to plug her nose and blow, which worked sometimes when she had a cold. The oxygen tubes were in her way, though, and he had to take her hands to keep her from yanking them out. Tears were starting to run down her cheeks.

He knew a fair bit of sign, between his years working with Sue, and also from Elizabeth's sister, and he knew the girls were more fluent in it than he was. DADDY STAY BESIDE RACHEL, he signed. DOCTOR HELP, OK? He moved up to sit next to her, and drew her into his arms as she started to sob. Heart breaking, he rocked her gently until the nurse arrived and paged the pediatrician.

:

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Leland," the specialist said after examining Rachel for what seemed an eternity. "The meningitis left extensive damage to the hair cells in both of Rachel's ears, as well as to her cochlea." He pointed on a diagram to a small snail-shaped part of the ear behind the eardrum. "It's not reparable. And a cochlear implant won't help, because of the damage there."

"How extensive is 'extensive,' exactly?" Myles asked, a bit fed up with medical double-speak. "She's severely deaf? Profoundly? What are we talking about?"

The doctor looked at him in surprise. "You know the terminology?"

"I have a long-time co-worker who is profoundly deaf," he replied curtly, still waiting for an answer. "If I remember correctly, her decibel levels sit at about 110/120."

"Ah. Well, then, what I'm about to tell you will make more sense to you than it generally does to parents I've had to inform." The man was maddeningly calm. "Rachel's levels are currently at 75 decibels in her right ear, and 80 in her left. As the meningitis works its way out of her system, those levels could fluctuate slightly, but only slightly. And the loss will undoubtedly increase over the next few years."

Elizabeth gripped her husband's hand, whether seeking support or offering it Myles couldn't determine. "What do we do, then, to help her? We all already know some ASL, because my sister is severely deaf, and Rachel's very articulate for her age. Obviously, though, this will affect her further speech development, schooling…how can we best help her?"

Myles looked at her for a long moment; he hadn't expected to hear such an edge in her voice at all this. After all, she'd grown up with Connie, was fluent in ASL, understood much of the Deaf Culture… and then he realized that this was simply a mother overwhelmed by both the emotion of what had happened to her child, and the task they all had ahead of them. Being on the periphery of a culture didn't necessarily prepare you for instant immersion into it.

He squeezed her hand, amazed at the calm in his own voice. "Sweetheart, it will be all right. We'll have lots of help. Let's take it a step at a time."

"You mean Rachel's like Aunt Connie and Aunt Sue?" Sarah's voice betrayed very little of what she was feeling.

Myles nodded and squeezed her hand. They'd decided it might be best for Sarah to hear the news one-on-one, so Elizabeth had gone in to be with Rachel. His oldest daughter's green eyes were wide, but he could tell the full impact hadn't set in yet. It hadn't with him, either; he knew he needed to go talk to someone, and soon. But his family's needs came first.

"Yes, Sarah. She can still hear a little right now, but your regular voice will sound like a soft whisper to her. And her hearing will fade over the next few years, too. The fact that we already know some sign will help; we won't have to learn to communicate with Rachel all over again. But she's going to have a lot of changes to get used to."

The little girl looked at him directly. "You're not gonna make her just speak, are you? Like Gramma Dillingham did to Aunt Connie. Because that's just not fair."

He blinked, taken back at the vehemence in her voice. "Why would you think I'd do that, Sarah?"

Now that she'd said it, he could tell she wasn't sure she should have. "It's just... I asked Aunt Sue one time to tell me about when she first joined the FBI. She said... she was nice about it, though..." Now she looked down, unable to meet her father's eyes. "She said you weren't very nice to her."

Even though he'd apologized years before, and now had a very good, even close, relationship with Sue, it still shamed him clear down to the depths of his soul to be reminded. He folded his hands, resting his arms on his knees, and looked over at Sarah until she met his eyes. "She's right; I wasn't. In fact, knowing your Aunt Sue, she probably made it seem a lot better than it really was."

"Why, Daddy? Why didn't you like her?"

He sighed; he'd tried over the years to determine the exact cause himself, and all he could come up with was sheer prejudiced ignorance. "I guess I was like a lot of people, who think that just because someone can't hear, they can't do a lot of things. I thought your Uncle Jack was crazy for bringing someone in that we'd all have to adapt to, like making sure she could see us when we talked…" He trailed off. "Sarah, when I look back on it now, I feel ashamed. Sue is a wonderful lady, and it took me a long time to give her the chance she deserved."

"Oh." Sarah looked at him with a smile tugging at her lips. "I thought it was because she got you in trouble with Aunt Lucy."

His breath came out in a laugh, and Myles shook his head. "I've been in trouble with Lucy since the day I met her, in one fashion or another." Now he turned to his daughter and looked at her solemnly. "So do you understand about Rachel?"

"Yeah. It shouldn't be that hard. We already know how to sign, and stuff like that."

"But do you realize that she won't be able to read your lips nearly as well as Aunt Sue and Aunt Connie? That's something you have to learn to do. And you'll have to touch her if you want her attention, or stomp on the floor real hard." The magnitude of what they were facing was starting to overwhelm him as well.

"Daddy, are you okay?"

He stroked her blonde hair. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm okay. Tell you what. Why don't I take you up to stay with Mom and Rachel? Rachel's pretty scared right now, and I bet you could cheer her up. Daddy has to go see someone for a little while."

Hoover Building

Myles stopped outside the office and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves so he could think clearly. Then he tapped on the doorsill. After a moment, he heard "Come in, please."

He opened the door and petted the Golden Retriever; Levi's muzzle was liberally grey now, and he moved much slower than when Myles had first encountered him. "Good boy, Levi."

Sue Thomas Hudson stood up to give him a hug. "Myles! It's been too long. I keep telling Jack he keeps you all far too busy."

"He's obviously not listening," the Harvard grad smiled as she sat back down and motioned him to a chair. I-N-T-E-R-N-S KEEP YOU BUSY? he signed.

"It's a good program," she responded. "We've gotten lots of positive feedback from every field office we've placed a surveillance specialist in. Most of the offices want to know how long it will be before we can send them at least one more."

Before Ted Garrett had retired, he'd called Sue into his office and asked her if she'd be interested in spearheading an internship program with the Bureau through Gallaudet University, for students trained in lip-reading as she was, as surveillance specialists. Sue had jumped at the chance, even though it meant leaving the team.

Not quite a year later, the "office romance" they'd all teased her and Jack about from practically day one had blossomed into a marriage. It hadn't been an easy journey for them; Jack had made a lot of adjustments, more than he'd ever thought about. That they had weathered it together for eight years so far was a tribute to the deep love they'd grown into.

"Myles?"

He glanced up and signed SORRY. ME GOT LOST.

Sue smiled. "I would imagine. Jack told me about Rachel; how's she doing?"

Myles leaned back in the chair and folded his hands in his lap, fighting the urge to look at the floor. "She's out of the woods. But the meningitis left its mark. That's what I wanted to talk with you about, if you have a little time."

Her smile faded. "Oh, no. It took—?"

"Her hearing, yes."

Sue immediately closed the files she'd been working on and set them aside, then moved over to sit in the chair next to him. "Myles, I'm so sorry. What exactly did the doctor tell you?"

He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing at his temples. After a moment, he dropped his hands and looked up at her. "They had an audiologist come in immediately; the meningitis destroyed most of her hair cells in both ears, and damaged her cochlea. He said that an implant won't work."

"I'm very sorry, Myles. I know this has to be hard on the family, especially you. What did the audiologist say her audiogram showed?"

He sighed again. "Her levels are sitting at 75 decibels in her right ear, and uh... 80 in her left." His eyes dropped just slightly. "Sorry," he said and signed, "I guess I'm still reeling a little."

"That's understandable. It's going to take some time before the full impact sets in. How's Liz doing?"

"She's all right, I guess. She was more stressed in the doctor's office than I thought she'd be. I suppose I thought that..." He raised a brow as something registered. "Why would you say that this would be especially hard on me?"

Sue smiled gently. "You've always seemed to have a harder time adjusting to situations that are a bit different than your normal routine. Or is that not why you came to talk to me?"

Now his eyes did drop, and he signed it. THINK YOU THIS B/C HOW CONSIDER I YOU, RIGHT? SARAH, SAID SHE SAME BEFORE.

Sue nodded and signed YES, before she began to speak. "Has the doctor spoken to you about counseling? If he hasn't, I think you should look into at least a support group."

He was quiet for several minutes; though his head was down, she could tell simply from the slump in his shoulders that more was wrong than just this overwhelming news and exhaustion. After another deep sigh, he looked up at her again, and his eyes were sad.

"Sarah laid me out because she thought I'd insist on making Rachel speak exclusively, and now you're suggesting counseling. Have I really learned so little?"

"If it helps, Myles, I don't see you as the same person when I first walked into that bullpen. But I do think this is going to be hard on you. Not in the way of having to sign, to learn to get Rachel's attention; I think it's going to be hard for you to admit it to your family. You realize though, that with your acceptance, it will be easier for the others as well."

"But…" He looked confused. "My family has already all but adopted Connie; why would this be so different?"

Sue laid a hand on his arm. "Myles, your immediate family has accepted Connie. But what about Rachel's other grandparents? Aunts, uncles— people who are only around her a few times a year? You'll have to deal with her friends, their parents, your neighbors… a support group might be helpful."

His head was spinning; he hadn't considered the entire scope of this. He dropped his head into his hands and fought the wave of panic that was starting. "I didn't realize…"

She tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me?"

Myles looked up at her bleakly. "Sorry. I said I didn't realize… the scope of all this… Dear God…" She may not have heard his voice, but the fervency in his eyes said it all. "How can I help her, Sue? I want to give her every opportunity I can, but I don't want to shut her off from a community that she'll need. What do I do? Where do I start?"

Sue squeezed his arm gently. "You start by doing exactly what you're doing now— admitting that you can't do it alone. Then you let Rachel know that you love her. I'm sure she's very frightened right now."

He nodded. "She's terrified."

"You first need to let what comes naturally to her happen. Let her take the lead. If she wants to continue speaking, then encourage it, get her the help she'll need; if not, don't force it. Let her get involved with others locally that are deaf so she doesn't feel so out of place. Once you have a bearing at home, you need to stand firm and explain it to your family." Sue thought for a second. "She's in preschool, right?"

Myles sighed. "She was; I'm not sure what we'll do now."

"LeClerc is a preschool associated with Gallaudet; I'll get you the name of the administrator." She watched him battle with the enormity of the task ahead, and her heart ached for him. "And you know that Jack and I will be here for you and your family. It will help Rachel to have a bit of a familiar network. You can get help from Connie, from the school; there's plenty of support available. You just need to remember that she's still your daughter, still the same little girl you've known since the first time you held her in your arms. The only difference is that she cannot hear your voice. It doesn't mean she can't feel your love or rejection of her."

"I know. If I've learned nothing else from you in twelve years, I have learned that." He stood, and ran a hand through his hair. "I need to get back to the hospital. Rachel still has a few days' recovery time, and then we'll see where to go from there." He held out a hand to her. "Thank you. I feel like I at least have a solid footing, for now."

She stood and glanced at his hand. "If you've learned anything in twelve years, it ought to be that I don't do handshakes with good friends." She gave him a big hug. "I expect you to ask for help when you need it."

He returned the hug gratefully. "I will. Thank you." …

It hadn't been easy, for any of them; there had been obstacles he'd never even dreamed of as they began to bridge worlds. Sue and Jack, as well as Elizabeth's sister Connie, had been invaluable friends and supporters. Particularly when it came to unexpected potholes.

Rachel had known things might change among her hearing friends, but none of them had been really prepared for the flak they'd gotten from some in the Deaf community. It hadn't started out that way.

LeClerc Preschool had been one of the very best things that happened to them in the early days of adjustment; the Gallaudet University service had allowed Rachel, and the whole family, to work at their own pace until she felt comfortable with the other students, whose hearing losses ranged from since birth to recent medical losses like her own. Events and conferences were frequent, and they were gently eased into some, joyfully tossed pell-mell into others.

Even Myles himself had found several very good friends in the Deaf community from those early days, friends he still stayed in touch with, or played golf with on occasion. It hadn't been easy, but it had been eye-opening and fulfilling beyond anything he'd ever dreamed.

Two years ago, Rachel had started at Chesterfield School for the Deaf. It was then that the realization came of just how difficult the gap could be to bridge. On her first day, she came home in tears…