Chapter 2

Since the Ledbetter family had given so much money to this institution over the years, the staff seemed anxious to help us find a child to foster and perhaps adopt.

“He agreed to meet you,” Heather said, giving us another once-over with her blue eyes. “We house almost twenty children at this facility. Many would be very good choices.”

“Tony’s deaf,” I pointed out.

“Well, yes.”

“Jackson and I both know sign.”

“I’m aware of that, Mr. Cantrell. It’s just that Tony’s had a very difficult life.”

“Haven’t we all?”

“I want you to be aware of other options, children who aren’t quite so damaged. Tony is sweet in his own way, of course, but he’s a handful. I would hate for you to—”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” I said, “but our son was a special needs kid. We know what we’re getting into.”

She offered a small, polite sigh.

“Tony’s room is just down here.”

She led us to a small door that was firmly shut. Instead of knocking, she pushed a button on the outside of the door that would activate a flashing light inside the room. Jackson put a protective hand on the small of my back, smiled in encouragement. We waited many anxious moments for the door to open, but it did not.

Heather pushed the door open, and we saw Tony sitting on a child’s bed by the window inside a small room painted an odd shade of blue that looked very institutional. Tony was looking out the window, must have seen us in the parking lot.

“Tony, you have visitors,” Heather said, circling around so he could see her coming.

He turned, glanced at her.

Tony Gorzola was a slip of a boy with dark hair, fair skin, and a pinched face. Thick plastic glasses sat on a small, upturned nose. He wore faded blue jeans and a dress shirt that was awkwardly tucked into his waistband. In his arms he clutched a teddy bear that had seen better days.

He glanced at us for just a moment before frowning and lowering his eyes.

“I’ll be just outside,” Heather said, taking her leave.

My heart thumped uncomfortably as I walked forward and craned my neck to the side so I could look at him.

Hello, T-o-n-y.

He frowned.

My name is W-i-l-e-y, and this is my husband J-a-c-k. We’ve been looking forward to meeting you. How are you?

He shrugged.

I know you must be scared.

He squeezed his teddy a bit harder and pursed his lips.

Mrs. D. said you wanted to meet us.

No response.

If you want, you can spend the weekend with us. Would you like that?

He shrugged as if it made no difference.

We’re staying with J-a-c-k’s parents. They’re pretty nice. They have a nice house, a swimming pool and everything. We were thinking about going shopping, watching a movie. Have you seen any good movies lately?

He shook his head.

You want to spend some time with us?

He looked at me rather frankly, not taking his eyes away this time but really looking at me, really seeing me through those thick glasses. I stared back, smiled, tried to show him there was no need to be afraid, that we weren’t going to hurt him.

Very carefully, he set his teddy aside.

You…he signed roughly, as if he didn’t get much practice signing, and him…together?

Yes.

Why?

J-a-c-k and I love each other very much, and we’ve been together for nine years. We live in M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i. It’s a lot warmer down there, and they have excellent food, not like the nonsense they make us eat here. We had a little boy who was deaf.

True?

Yes.

Deaf…same me?

Yes.

Where…now?

He died.

True?

He had a lot of health problems, and his body just got tired of fighting, so I told him to go on home and be with Jesus. I know he’s happy now.

Oh.

The two of you would have had a lot of fun together.

Me…No friends.

Would you like to have some friends?

He shrugged.

Mrs. D. said you wanted to meet us. And she said you could spend the weekend with us if you want to, so we could get to know each other. Would you like that?

He turned away and did not answer. Instead he got to his feet—his tennis shoes looked as though they had been worn by others in their day—and went to the window, where he stared out at the parking lot.

His signing skills were rudimentary at best, and I had the feeling he probably didn’t understand much of what I said.

I stood next to him at the window. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he immediately flinched away and gave me a fearful look, as if I had hurt him.