My Hands Hold My Story (Rough Draft)

Chapter Thirteen

Simon, do you know why Papa refuses to send me back to school?

It was too big of a question—the answer too important to me—for me to try to convey with my hands. I watched my brother's shoulders rise and fall in a sigh as he read my words and he shook his head. His gaze shifted to the lake in front of us.

Two weeks had passed in relative peace without any great change. My stepmother's behavior towards me remained cool and distant. Katie became my little shadow, which was just like a toddler to become attached to someone because they give them a toy.

My own relationship with Simon had improved since my crate of belongings had arrived. Maybe reminding him of our shared loss had been the key. He kept our mother's quilt on the foot of his bed and he had begun teasing me in small ways. He'd tug my braid as if I were a child as he walked past, or he would bump my shoulder if he came up next to me.

He was the one who had suggested—through a rather comical display of charades―we come out to the lake. I'd brought my sketchbook, and showed my sketches to him. He'd examined them carefully, but his expression had given little away about what he thought of them.

It was paper from my sketchbook that I used to ask my question. He reached over and took the pencil from me. As I watched, he wrote his response with care, pausing every few words to look out over the surface of the water. The fact that he was taking so long worried me.

Trying to relax, I breathed in the scent of pine and leaned my head back. The sky was a brilliant blue, and there were no clouds to hide the sun. As I watched, two rather large birds soared overhead, but they weren't close enough for me to decipher exactly what type they are. I felt a sliver of envy at how they seemed to glide with no effort through the air.

It was times like this that I reflected on how much my life had changed. The year before, at this same time, I would have been rushing around with my head down, hoping to avoid Uncle Richard's notice. All my focus would have been on simply getting through the summer with the prospect of school ahead of me.

Although I was steadily becoming content about where I was, I still felt the need to know why I couldn't go back to school.

A touch on my arm brought my focus back to where I was. Simon handed me the paper, his expression serious. Taking a deep breath, I turned my attention to the words on the page.

Pa thinks I should have the chance to further my education. Cordelia's convinced him that, as a man, I would have more benefit than you. She says that in eight years you must have learned all it's possible for someone like you to learn.

My breath caught in my throat. So it had been my step-mother's fault! I'd suspected, but it still hurt to learn she did not think I deserved the chance to learn all I could. 'Someone like you.' Did she think that because I was deaf I couldn't learn to enjoy things such as literature or art? Or did she think a young woman had no business learning Latin or mathematics?

It seemed every time I turned around, I had more reasons to dislike Cordelia. Did that make me a bad person?

Before I could think about it, I glanced at Simon. As badly as I missed school, I wouldn't feel as bad about not going back if it was something my brother wanted. He stared at the water, his fingers drumming on his knees. He appeared restless and a suspicion wormed it's way into my mind. Grabbing the pencil, I wrote: Do you want to go?

Tapping his arm to get his attention, I held the question up when he glanced over. His lips quirked into a slight smile and he shook his head. He took the paper and pencil from me and began to write once again. This time it didn't take him long to put his response down.