Chapter 4: The Path You Choose

Author's note:

I hadn't thought to explain this in the story - "deaf" is not a static term. There are endless variations, since a hearing loss tends to combine both decibel level (loudness) frequency (pitch; hi/lo). You'll see here that Rachel's loss is high-frequency along with her decibel loss; therefore, she can still make out her father's deep voice even two years after her meningitis...

Because she was not born deaf, she also understands the words he is saying. Someone deafened at birth or before the age of two, even with comparable decibel and frequency levels as Rachel, likely would not understand the sounds they could hear as words.

When we return to the present, two more years have passed, and her decibel levels have faded to where even his voice is out of her range.

Myles walked into the kitchen, tossing his suit coat over one of the stools and sliding his arms around Elizabeth, snatching a chocolate-chip cookie from the cooling rack in the process.

"You spoil your dinner, and you're grounded," she smiled as he took a bite.

He grinned and turned her around to face him, offering her a bite of the cookie as well. "But I'm on such good terms with 'Mom.' How could she possibly ground me?"

"Don't push your luck." She laughed softly and kissed the chocolate from his lips, then sighed as she leaned against his shoulder.

"How was Rachel's first day at Chesterfield?"

His wife looked up at him, her green eyes troubled. "I don't know, Myles. When I went to pick her up, she signed HELLO, but that's all I've been able to get out of her. Not a word, not a sign, nothing. She went straight up to her room when we got home, and even the aroma of cookies hasn't been enough to coax her down."

His brows went up. "If Rachel's passing up cookies, it must be serious. I'll go talk to her."

"Thank you, love. Dinner will be ready in about a half-hour."

"Okay." He grabbed his suit coat and took it upstairs to his closet, then crossed the hallway to the room the girls shared.

Sarah was doing her homework, the radio on low as she plowed through her math. She turned as Myles tapped on the door, and shook her head as he raised his brows and nodded toward Rachel, who was curled up on the bottom bunk of their beds. Sarah held up an open "5" hand and drew it down from her eyes to her chin. SHE CRY.

O-K, he replied. HELP MOM MINUTES FEW. RACHEL ME TALK.

His oldest nodded, and went downstairs. Myles sat down on the side of the bed, thankful that they'd decided on the twin/full bunk combination from the start. It made for fewer impact headaches.

He laid a hand on his six-year-old daughter's shoulder and squeezed gently. Rachel, without even looking at him, sat up and flung herself into his arms, sobbing. He held her tightly, stroking her dark hair and letting her pour out whatever hurt she was feeling. After a while, she calmed and simply clung to him.

When he finally felt her relax, he set her back on his lap and tipped her chin up. WHAT? he signed one-handed. TELL ME PLEASE.

Her hands flew. NEW SCHOOL GO ME NOT WANT.

WHY? He was genuinely puzzled; Rachel had loved LeClerc. It had been a godsend for all of them, providing not only the adjustment period she'd needed, but also a wonderful support group for the students' families. Which reminded him— he was slated for the school's "Dad's Golf Tournament" in two weeks. Even though Rachel had graduated, they had insisted Myles join them one last year. Privately, he knew it was so Ron Masters could whistle while Myles was teeing up, knowing full well it wouldn't do any good for the Harvard grad to retaliate, since Ron was Deaf.

Myles shook his head slightly and pulled out of his thoughts. Chesterfield School for the Deaf was supposed to have the same reputation for involving the families as much as they wished to be involved.

They'd considered mainstreaming Rachel, but after looking around at the atrocious quality of the special needs programs, they'd decided on a combination of residential school and a speech tutor. Rachel had decided on her own that she still wanted to speak, as well as learn to lip-read like her aunts. Secretly, Myles had been praying she'd make those decisions; it would help her immensely out in the hearing world. He'd seen too many people, especially since they'd gotten involved in the community, who were non-oral and had such a hard time. But he'd also decided that if she chose the silent path, he'd support her any way he could.

Watching her now, he couldn't fathom what had upset her so deeply. She was looking down, and he tipped her chin up again. NEW SCHOOL GO YOU NOT WANT WHY?

THEY SAY I FAKE DEAF! TALK TOO GOOD TO BE DEAF! PARENTS HEAR, SISTER HEAR, ME NOT TRUE DEAF! Her fingers were almost a blur, and tears were starting down her cheeks again. THEY SAY I SHOULD PUBLIC SCHOOL GO! NOT HERE! NOT BELONG! She buried her head against his shoulder again.

His heart dropped; they'd dealt so many times with the "you're different" attitude among her friends in the neighborhood. He'd never expected it to happen from the other direction. But, at the same time, he'd heard Sue talk about similar situations. It wasn't easy to walk between worlds; it seemed you were never truly a part of either, and excluded in one way or another from both. Though he had no first-hand experience at it, he was getting a fair education watching his daughter. And it broke his heart.

He shifted her slightly so his mouth was right next to her right ear; the audiologist had told them that she'd be able to hear his deep voice longer than either Elizabeth's or Sarah's. Speaking a bit louder than he would have with his older daughter, he said, "Rachel, honey, can you understand what I'm saying?"

She nodded, her face still hidden as she sobbed.

"Ok." He hugged her tightly. "Princess, you belong. Do you remember that Aunt Sue told you there were some Deaf people who thought she should just sign and not speak? And there were hearing people who thought she should just speak and not sign?"

YES. The tremor in her hand tore at him, but she had quieted a little.

Myles stroked her dark hair. "She chose to do both, and you told me you wanted to make the same choice. It's not going to be easy. And there will be people on both sides who will say you don't belong. But you do, sweetheart. You belong wherever you decide you want to." Now he took her shoulders and gently pushed her back enough to look at him, and signed as he spoke. "If you want to go to public school, that's fine, but I think you'd be happier at Chesterfield. It will be much easier for you there."

She shook her head. ME STAY HOME, she replied silently. DADDY TEACH. MOMMY TEACH.

Good heavens, what did they say to her? Rachel was a born student; she loved to learn, whether it was writing her name, being able to find Copenhagen on the globe, or watching the storytellers at the Deaf Center in town. Before the meningitis, she'd even pestered him to teach her "hello" and "Thank you" in French, and Russian, and Mandarin Chinese. She loved to interact with people; wanting to stay home told him this had hurt her deeply.

Then he thought of something. "Rachel," he signed as he spoke, "do you remember the lady we met at your graduation from LeClerc? The older lady I told you I had met when we worked on a case?"

Her little brows scrunched together as she thought. She held up an open "5" hand, her thumb pointed at her chin, and bounced it forward and down twice. GRANDMA H?

He nodded, smiling. Sue had brought Helga with her, and the girls had taken instantly to their "new gramma." Helga, in return, seemed to light up as the two Leland girls peppered her with questions and begged for stories and generally made pests of themselves. They'd made it a point since then to visit Helga every Saturday afternoon.

Rachel looked at him as if he were daft. YES, she signed, an exasperated sigh escaping. I REMEMBER I. DADDY SILLY.

He laughed; teasing her, and being teased in return, was the first step to getting through her hurt. "Do you remember," he said and signed,"the time we went to see her, and she was talking to a man who had just come to the Senior Center for the first time? And the man was giving Helga's friend Ellen a hard time because she was speaking?"

Rachel nodded. YES.

"Do you remember what Grandma H told us later?"

Now the little blue-grey eyes widened a bit, and she spoke for the first time since he'd walked in the room. "Gramma H said that it didn't matter if Ellen signed or spoke or sent smoke signals—" She giggled. "It wasn't important. What was important was that Ellen had a good heart, and she was a good friend. And Ellen said that Gramma H was her friend, too, even when others didn't want to be her friend because she spoke."

"Not everyone you meet will understand, Rachel," Myles said and signed. "In fact, it may be that most of the people you meet, hearing or Deaf, will think you should be someone other than you are. But you decide who you want to be, and don't let anyone tell you that you can't." His eyes dropped for a moment as he realized the impact of what he was saying. His voice caught. "Not anyone."

A warm hand on his cheek made him look back up, and he saw her smile. Her hands moved. IF DADDY LEARN PAH, EVERYONE HOPE. AUNT SUE SAY TRUE.

He wrinkled his nose at her and laughed. SAD DADDY TRUE, he replied. DINNER READY MOM SAY. BEFORE COOKIE YOU MISS.

She held up her hand and let him lead her out of the room, her trust and love for him strengthening his resolve to let her walk her own path, but to be beside her every step of the way…

:

Warm lips on his neck brought him out of his thoughts, and he realized that the house was dark. Elizabeth had apparently just finished locking up for the night.

"The girls asleep?" he asked softly.

"Mmmhmm…" she replied, her fingers wandering up his back.

He raised a brow at her. "Are you attempting to seduce, me, Dr. Dillingham? If so, I should warn you that I'm married."

She looked up at him and smiled. "So am I. We just won't tell them."

"Hmm… a sound plan." He swept her off her feet, making her gasp, and started up the stairs. "Although, if my wife were to find out, she might never make her lasagna for me again, and I don't think I could handle that."

Elizabeth just stared at him for a moment, not sure she'd heard him correctly. Then, a wicked gleam lit her green eyes, and she put her arms around his neck. "I think maybe I can beat the lasagna," she murmured, and then whispered in his ear.

His knees just about buckled at her suggestion, so it was a good thing they'd reached the top of the stairs. She laughed softly and stepped away from him, pausing at the door to their bedroom to turn and crook her finger at him. Shaking his head slightly to clear it, Myles smiled and followed her down the hall.

PAH - a distinctly Deaf Culture word... in this context, it translates roughly to "finally"... the true and complete definition is shared by Deaf culture only to those who have made it a point to really seek to learn...