Speak Easy Speak Danger

by Sharon G Clark

  “And Adam?”

  Janice dropped the arm from Margaret’s waist and stepped away. She heaved a heavy sigh. “As you know, I’ve turned your house into an orphanage.”

  “Your house for a fair price,” she corrected.

  “True.” Margaret watched Janice fidget. She was about to prod her to continue, when Janice said, “Adam’s been through a lot and wants friends like any other kid. He doesn’t realize when the older kids tease him, they're mean. I worry what will happen to him when he’s old enough to figure it out. Compound that matter with the fact that most families looking to adopt a child don’t want to deal with any issues, like nightmares, a boy like Adam comes with. He’s already been taken in and returned by three families, which doesn’t include his biological parents.” Tears fell down Janice’s face. She sniffed, and Margaret pulled her into a hug. “Fifth home would be me. And what do I do? I put him on a train and a sixth home.”

  “Why did you bring him here? Can’t be because you missed my sparkling personality. Wait.” She furrowed her brow. “Do not consider hitting on my wife again.”

  Janice stepped back and swiped at the tears and gave a watery chuckle. “In my defense, she was posing as a handsome male. How was I to know?”

  “Posing as a sixteen-year-old boy.”

  “Po-ta-to, Po-tah-to.”

  Margaret shook her head. “Are you still a consummate flirt?”

  “Well.” Janice drew the word out.

  “Okay,” Margaret said. “Back to Adam.”

  Janice exhaled loudly. “He needs a home. One that will love him and teach him, in a manner that a great kid deserves. Show him what a real family is.”

  “Janice. This isn’t a good time.”

  “Hear me out, Meggie. Please.” Janice took her hands in both her own. “This is a perfect time. It’s the only way you can have a child of your own. Fiona needs this. I haven’t known her for as long as you, but I have a pretty good idea she needs to focus on being useful. She won’t be able to concentrate on being blind if she has Adam around.”

  “Or, it could achieve the opposite.”

  “Meggie, honey. There’s another matter to think about.” Janice turned away as if she didn’t want to face Margaret for her next disclosure. Margaret balled her hands in anticipation. “I had a long talk with Edward. I know what Fiona has to look forward to.” She winced. “I didn’t mean—”

  Margaret couldn’t speak, afraid she’d completely break down. After a moment, she asked, “What has Adam got to do with Fiona’s diagnosis?”

  This time Janice pulled Margaret into a hug. “Together, you raise Adam, and he learns from you both. Maybe he takes on characteristics of Fiona. In years to come, you have a common link, a reminder to bring even a modicum of peace in her absence.”

  “I don’t know if I can.” Margaret pulled away and turned her back on Janice. “It’s bad enough to know what will happen. What if his reminding me doesn’t bring peace, but horrible pain? Don’t you think this is hard enough?”

  “Okay, I understand. I just thought—” Janice moved to the screen door. “I guess I hadn’t thought hard enough. But know this. When I got Adam, all I could visualize was you and Fiona beside him. I’ll take him back with me. Destroy the paperwork.” Janice opened the screen door.

  “I won’t be rash. Let me talk to Fiona.” Margaret was divided on the matter. Janice had reasonable points. “Guess I should disturb her, quit giving her too much brooding time. Better fill Jo in on the new development, too, since she’d be an aunt.”

  Fiona heard the mumbled voices outside her bedroom but didn’t acknowledge them. She used the toe of one foot to keep the movement of the rocker going. If they wanted to speak to her, they made no move to knock on the door or to enter. Just as well. In her current mood, any human interaction would not go well. Not after the day she had, and it was only a little before supper time. Fiona thought she recognized the voices from a long time ago. She focused for a moment. The voices were from five years ago.

  Her attention was caught by the sound of the knob turning and the soft rustle of clothing, followed by the softer sound of tiny footsteps as they approached her. Fiona focused on the quiet noise. The tread was young and light, the footpads too close together to be an adult. A child and a small one. Her first thought was that Richard came for a visit. She dismissed that quickly since there wasn’t any familiarity with the movement. She felt a frisson of panic. Had a neighbor’s child wandered up to her room to see the freak? Poised to call out to Margaret, a small, hesitant hand on her knee kept her momentarily silent.

  “Can I sit with you?” the child asked. Fiona hesitated, unsure how to respond. She didn’t get the opportunity. The child climbed up onto her lap, wiggled into a comfortable position, and leaned his head on Fiona's shoulder. Her action unconscious, she pulled him closer into an embrace, her arm around his small body, even as panic filled her. Was this child here to torment her? How did he get past the family? “What’s your name?”

  “Adam.”

  “Adam, what?”

  “Dunno,” he said. “Gonna be different.”

  Perplexed, Fiona asked, “Why?”

  “Because.” Small fingers gently traced the scar on her forehead. “You hiding?”

  “Why would you think I’m hiding?” she asked, surprised at his directness.

  He shifted on her lap, then she felt tiny hands framing her face. “You alone. You sad.” From the size and weight of the little boy, an assumption until told otherwise, Fiona suspected he couldn’t be more than three, maybe four years old. What did a child at this age know about sadness? “You punished?”

  “What makes you ask that?”

  Again, he touched her scar. “I got a bad boo-boo too. No one wants me. Miss Janice says I go to special mommies.” Janice? Janice Hartwell? Was that one of the voices which sounded familiar just a moment ago? What was either of them doing here? And boo-boo? A birth defect or scar of his own? “Is your boo-boo because you were punished?”

  Fiona felt his barely perceptible nod before he clasped her hand while lifting a leg onto her knee. “I was bad, punished,” he repeated, raising the pant leg.

  He pressed Fiona’s hand against his bared leg, making her immediately aware of the scars from severely burnt flesh. She gasped. His leg, at least the part available to her touch, was covered in scarring. The pain this little boy must’ve suffered, and as a punishment. The very thought made her want to cry. Would her open emotional reaction frighten him?

  Fiona bit her bottom lip to suppress herself from a response. Instead, she asked, “Why did you ask if I was punished?”

  “You sad. And your eyes funny.”

  She gave a chuckle at that. No longer able to see, Fiona couldn’t look at the reflection, adjust to how the world saw her. How Margaret saw her. How did this child become so perceptive? “My eyes are different because I’m blind. I can’t see.”

  “Oh.” He leaned back against her, nearly draped across her chest. “I’ll help you if you want.” He sighed wearily, and Fiona smiled. “I’m tired, though.”

  “So am I,” she admitted.

  “I hope you get to be my new mommy,” he whispered.

  Fiona wrapped her arms around him, secured him safely in place. Whoever the intended woman was to be his mother would be lucky to have him. That would never be her, especially now. How wonderful would it be, to teach, to love, to leave a reminder of her behind? Margaret would need someone to love, to focus her empty hours. Life could be cruel in so many different ways, like burning a child as punishment. What kind of monster did that to anyone, let alone to a toddler? Fiona nudged the chair into a slow rocking rhythm, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. His breathing steadied in sleep. Fiona kissed the top of his head, her lips tickled by soft, thick curls. She wondered at the color of his hair. Did it resemble Jo’s from when they first met, all curly and blonde? At least she was lucky to have an opportunity to
raise Jo.

  “Sweet dreams,” she whispered.

  Moments later, the chair stilled, Fiona’s head lulled to the side as she too slept.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Margaret disliked disturbing the loving scene before her. Fiona held the small child so tenderly, even as they both slept soundly in the rocker. With all that had happened in the last couple of weeks, Margaret wondered— and worried—how Fiona would react when she learned more about the child in her arms. Surprised that Fiona hadn’t called for his removal. Margaret was curious about how this scene transpired. Not that she expected Fiona to be cruel to anyone, least a child, but a strange little boy had invaded her personal space. And Fiona’s lap. Margaret smiled and locked this vision in her mind forever.

  Much as she wanted to spend longer watching, it was dinner time, and six people downstairs waited on their arrival. Margaret went to the rocker and placed a kiss to the top of Fiona’s head. “Fiona, honey, you need to wake up.” Margaret watched as Fiona’s brow furrowed before she blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes.

  “Guess I didn’t dream up him.”

  Margaret settled a hand on Fiona’s shoulder. “No, honey, you didn’t dream him. We need to discuss him quickly since the family is waiting for dinner.”

  “We have company, other than him, I mean?”

  “Yes, Janice and Ian are here.”

  “This little guy theirs?” Was that a hint of disappointment?

  Margaret chuckled. “Most definitely not.” She cleared her throat, nervous about sharing the news without any preparation for the blunt reality. If this conversation had come before Fiona’s blindness, Margaret would have expected a positive response. She didn’t know what reaction to predict with Fiona’s depression. “His name is Adam.” She hesitated. “Adam Graham.”

  “Graham?” Margaret noticed Fiona’s arm tightened around the little boy. “How—”

  Rubbing Fiona’s arm, Margaret explained. “Janice turned the house into a home for abandoned and orphaned children. She works to find these kids permanent homes.” She paused. “But no one adopts a flawed child.”

  Defensively, yet quietly, Fiona snapped, “Adam is not flawed.” Fiona snapped her mouth closed, seeming startled by her own reaction, her teeth gnashed.

  Margaret drew a footstool close to the rocker and took Fiona’s free hand in both of hers. “No, not to us, but he is to the rest of the world. That is why he is now ours. If we want him.”

  “I don’t want to be daft, Margaret, but I’m confused. Maybe my blindness has made me stupid.”

  Margaret cupped Fiona’s cheek. “Not possible, Fiona. You’re the brightest woman I know. Never doubt that fact. According to the paperwork, my brother—” Fiona tensed, but Margaret pressed on. “My brother and his wife died in an automobile accident. His last wish was for family, me, and my husband Fionn to be his guardian. Adam is the closest we could possibly expect for a child of our own.”

  Fiona stayed stiff and silent, tears streamed down her face, Margaret wasn’t sure what the reaction meant. So focused on Fiona, Margaret wasn’t aware Adam was awake until he spoke. “Don’t you want me either?” The hurt coating the question nearly broke Margaret’s heart.

  Maybe Fiona’s too. Suddenly Adam was crushed in Fiona’s embrace. “Oh Adam,” Fiona said, her voice breaking. “You’re not going anywhere.” Fiona stood and clutched Adam against her chest and pulled Margaret into a hug. “Adam’s right where he belongs. He’s with his aunties.”

  “Is aunties like mommies?”

  “As close as we can be for you, Adam,” Fiona said.

  Margaret didn’t know how long they stood in the embrace, sensing a renewed energy, maybe hope, in Fiona. The moment was broken, and Margaret suspected there would be many more, when Adam asked, “Can we eat now?”

  Adam grinned mischievously.

  Margaret laughed. “You little scamp.”

  Fiona settled Adam on the floor. He promptly took one of their hands in each of his tiny ones. “Lead the way, Aunties.” Margaret laughed as they left the bedroom, hand-in-hand.

  This new change in her life was the second-best day of her twenty-seven years of life. Meeting Fiona was her first-best day.

  Dinner went well. Everyone had a wonderful time catching up. The best topic for the night being Adam and welcoming him to the Cavanaugh clan. During the meal, Fiona felt the tension that radiated from Tessa, seated on her left. As everyone rose from the table, Ian offered to help Brigid clean everything after a little more social time in the parlor. Fiona reached toward Tessa. “Could you give me a moment, Tessa?” Fiona understood Tessa’s discomfort. For the young woman’s sake, and for Jo, she figured to nip the distress while manageable.

  “Certainly,” Tessa said. Fiona sensed she was made more nervous by the request, but Tessa sat back in her chair.

  “Is everything all right?” Jo asked. “Fiona?”

  “It’s okay, honey,” Tessa said. “We’ll be right there.”

  Fiona detected Jo’s hesitancy but, after a breath or two, Jo left the room. Fiona shifted her body to face Tessa, hoping to convey openness. She’d didn’t know if it worked as she couldn’t visually see to gauge Tessa’s expressions. Now she had to rely on her other senses. Inwardly, she shrugged. This was the hardest to get used to with her blindness. “What are your intentions toward my sister?”

  “I…I care for Jo.” Tessa swallowed hard enough for Fiona to hear. “Actually, Fiona, I’m in love with your sister. I’ve had feelings for her since the first time I set eyes on Jo. I’ll do whatever is necessary, or required, to spend my life making her happy.”

  “Do you and Warren share the same personality traits?”

  “No, never,” Tessa said defensively. “I couldn’t hurt people the way he does. Fiona, I would never—”

  “My point, Tessa. You need to be cognizant of the fact that you’re not Warren. Yet you’re afraid I, and others in this house, will believe you are. Maybe hate you for it?” she asked.

  “I would understand if you did despise me.” Fiona heard the despair in Tessa’s voice. “I’d also understand if you take Jo away from me and move back to Boston.”

  “To Boston?” Fiona wondered where that notion came. “Why would you think that?” She heard a knuckle crack and wondered how hard Tessa was wringing her hands.

  “Ian mentioned it in my shop this morning.”

  Fiona snorted. Poor Tessa. “Was he upset when he brought it up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ian gets a little overprotective. We just ignore him.” No, the statement wasn’t true. She smiled, remembering how many times Ian had been there for her. Fiona never ignored Ian. He had always looked after her like an older brother. “I can’t speak or stop Jo from making her own decisions, Tessa. But understand, I have no intention of leaving Pueblo. This is our home, for better or worse. Also, no matter what you assume, no one in this family paints you with the same brush as Warren.” She stood. “Only one way for this family to turn against you, Tessa. Hurt Jo. Then the Cavanaugh’s will turn on you like a tornado.”

  “I would never intentionally hurt Jo,” Tessa said.

  “Glad to hear it.” Fiona offered her arm in Tessa’s direction. “How about we join the others before Jo comes hunting for us?” She felt Tessa curl a hand around her elbow. “I’ll try not to bump us into any walls. Still getting the hang of this.”

  Jo pushed herself off the wall she’d been leaning against. She worried about Tessa. She watched Tessa walk toward the parlor, hanging on Fiona’s arm as they entered. Tessa led Fiona to the empty space next to Margaret on the settee. After Fiona was settled, Tessa made her way to Jo. “You okay?” Jo asked. She trusted Fiona to be civil, but Fiona had come to harm because of Tessa’s brother, a matter they were all coming to terms with handling.

  Tessa wrapped an arm around her waist. Jo’s heart leaped at their contact. Tessa’s smile was beautiful. She squeezed
Jo’s waist. “She asked about my intentions for you.”

  Jo waggled her eyebrows. “And they are?”

  “Not that,” Tessa said, her cheeks reddened, and she slapped Jo’s hip. Tessa’s voice deepened into a throaty whisper. “At least I didn’t mention those intentions to your sister.” Jo felt surprised at Tessa for making the remark. Did she recognize Jo’s nervousness? When Tessa dropped her head on her shoulder, Jo slid an arm around Tessa’s waist. “Fiona reminded me I’m not Warren. Said I’m here on my own merits.”

  “Are you okay with that? If you're uncomfortable with us, I can take you home.”

  “No, Jo. I want to be here with your family. They are great, if not a bit scary.” Tessa raised her head. “I want to be here with and for you.”

  Jo pressed a kiss to her brow. “Thank you. I’m glad you came, too.”

  She looked around the room at the other occupants. Janice sat in the lone overstuffed chair and watched the boys. Richard and Adam were on the rug playing with an assortment of toys. Brigid and Ian were on the couch, with Brigid watching the boys, and Ian watching Brigid. Nicholas, a new constant for Fiona and the family, also sat on the couch. Margaret and Fiona were on the settee, holding hands, Margaret quietly speaking in Fiona’s ear. Jo grinned. If the expression on Fiona’s face were any indication, Fiona was the happiest she’d been for a long time.

  Much as the idyllic scene warmed her, Jo brought up the topic not addressed yet. “How long are you and Janice staying, Ian?”

  Ian pulled his gaze from Brigid. Jo wondered if he realized everyone recognized the obvious effort. “Two days. Janice needs to get back to the other children. Me? Well, I can’t expect crime to stop while I’ve been away, either. I just need to ask if any of you will be joining us?” Tessa’s hold on her tightened almost painfully, nails dug into Jo’s flesh. She gave Tessa a reassuring smile.

  Janice spoke up. “We’d love to have you back home, but we aren’t demanding it, of course.”