The Summer of New Beginnings: A Magnolia Grove Novel

by Bette Lee Crosby

  He raised an eyebrow, and a look of concern settled on his face. “So then what . . . ?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, and gave an easy shrug. “I’ve since wondered if maybe it wasn’t Daddy watching over me.”

  The expression of concern was still stuck to his face. “Do you realize you could have been killed?”

  Although he had known her only a short time, that thought struck him like a bolt of lightning.

  “Promise me you won’t do anything like that again.”

  She laughed, even though there was nothing funny. “Finding Sox was a once-in-a-lifetime miracle. I doubt I’ll ever come across another dog who needs saving.”

  “If you did, would you do the same thing again?” The words were out of his mouth before Tom had time to reason why he would ask such a question.

  Meghan hesitated, then answered, “It’s hard to say, but yeah, I probably would. Animals and babies can’t always fend for themselves,” she said, “so how can you not do something when they’re in trouble?”

  That answer was yet another thing to like about Meghan, although Tom preferred to think she’d be more cautious next time.

  When he asked about her weekend, she told him of the day with Lucas. She spoke of remembering Gabriel Hawke and how she’d learned from his website the techniques for teaching a deaf child to speak.

  “I can’t begin to imagine how Gabriel’s mother did that,” she said. “I spent almost a full day teaching Lucas three words.”

  She explained that Tracy had finally acknowledged the problem, and they were scheduled to see a pediatric audiologist on Thursday. She hesitated a moment, drew a small breath, then added, “I pray Lucas’s hearing disability is something that can be corrected.”

  Tom saw the heaviness of this thought in the furrows of her forehead. Her love for the boy touched his heart, and he affectionately tightened his fingers around hers.

  “Lucas is fortunate to have an aunt who cares so much,” he said, and in his mind he was thinking he, too, was fortunate to be sitting across the table from her.

  When the sangria neared the bottom of the pitcher, Tom ordered a second one and a sharing plate of appetizers with a taste of everything: garlic shrimp, fried calamari, broiled octopus, and stuffed clams made tastier by the addition of bacon. Meghan scrunched her nose at the thought of octopus, but when he speared a small piece and held it to her mouth, she ate.

  Later, after they had finished dinner, the guitarist thrummed a song so achingly beautiful it was impossible not to be swept away by it, and they danced. Feeling his hand pressed to her back, Meghan was again glad she’d switched to the sundress that bared her shoulders. When the song ended, they remained on the floor to dance again and then again.

  In the dimly lit room, it seemed as though the rest of the world fell away and the music was meant only for them. They moved together, bodies swaying, her hip tight against his, his arm pressing her to his chest, so close she could feel his heartbeat. This was the magical moment when Meghan knew—not suspected but knew—she was madly, happily, crazily in love with Tom Whitely.

  Later still, they ordered espressos and sat at the table looking dreamily into each other’s eyes.

  Tom

  There are a dozen different things people can say about me, but the one thing no one could ever say is that I am the least bit impetuous. I’m the kind of guy you can trust to follow the rules, do exactly as expected, and be responsible all day long.

  Growing up, I had no choice. After my dad passed away, Mom had a hard time making ends meet, so I had to step up to the plate and do my share. I’ve been working since I was fourteen, and if it wasn’t for the basketball scholarship, I probably wouldn’t have been able to go to college.

  I’ve made it this far because I planned things out, planned them out to the very last detail. I saved every cent I made in Ohio for the one goal I had in mind: to have my own veterinary practice before I turned thirty. Now that I’ve not only done it but with three years to spare, my plan was to fully establish myself in the community over the next several years, find a nice girl, and get married a year or two later.

  Then I met Meghan.

  Something draws me to her. I felt it the first time she came into the office. Last Friday when we had dinner together, I came home telling myself she was a wonderful woman and would be a terrific friend. But the longer I thought about her, the more I came to realize I wanted something more than just her friendship.

  Tonight, when we were dancing, she fit into my arms as if she were made to be there, and I had a feeling I’ve never before experienced. I’ve always believed I was far too practical to fall head over heels for a woman the minute I met her, but with Meghan everything changed. Okay, she’s beautiful, but there’s a whole lot more than just beauty. There’s something else, some intangible thing I can’t even name.

  We’ve known each other less than two weeks, but I can’t get her out of my mind. Before we said good night, I’d already asked to see her again. So I guess it’s safe to say the least impetuous guy in the universe has taken a huge leap and fallen in love without one ounce of forethought or planning.

  That thing I once said about love at first sight being a lot of nonsense . . . well, I guess you can forget it. Meghan Briggs proved me wrong.

  A Day of Testing

  Four days after Meghan e-mailed Gabriel Hawke, she got a text.

  Of course I remember you, he wrote. He went on to say he was sorry to hear of her nephew’s problem, and if there was any way he could be of service she should feel free to get in touch.

  Seconds after she read the message, Meghan texted him back.

  We’ll be in Barrington on Thursday. Lucas has an appointment with Dr. Mallory at ten. She clicked “Send” and waited.

  His answer was immediate.

  Mallory’s one of the best. When you finish up, stop by and bring Lucas.

  With a smile, she tapped out her response.

  Will do, she wrote, and thanks.

  On Thursday, both Meghan and Tracy were up before the sun crossed the horizon. Neither of them had slept through the night.

  After almost two hours of tossing, turning, and worrying, Meghan had climbed out of bed and sat at the desk, writing page after page of jumbled thoughts in her journal. The first page was about Tracy and the hard decisions that awaited her, but there were other pages also. Pages of hopes for Lucas, that he would grow up strong and healthy and with the ability to hear.

  Tracy spent endless hours staring at the ceiling. Although she’d never been a praying person, she’d prayed that night. Over and over again she asked that Lucas be found normal and if not normal at least curable. When she finally did find sleep, she was tormented by dreams of Lucas. She saw him in a high place where she feared he would come crashing down. When she woke, it was with her heart pounding and a cold sweat covering her brow.

  Most mornings, Lila was downstairs long before the girls. She was in the habit of rising early and setting a pot of coffee on to brew. But on this particular morning it was Meghan who fixed the pot and waited as it dripped, plunk by plunk, into the carafe. When it was at long last finished, she poured two cups and sat opposite her sister. Stretching her arm across the table, Meghan took Tracy’s hand in hers.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “This is the start of something good. We’re finally going to get the help Lucas needs.”

  Tracy lifted her eyes. They were reddened, and the saddest look imaginable was stretched across her face.

  “I know,” she said. Her words were hollow, like the sound of a distant echo.

  “I’ve been in touch with Gabriel, and he said when we’re finished with the tests to stop by and say hello.”

  Tracy rolled her eyes. “Gabriel again?”

  Although Tracy knew it was not so, it somehow seemed as if he and he alone were responsible for the problem.

  “He’s offered to help, and he’d be good for Lucas. He understands the challenges of being . . . �
� Meghan hesitated, searching for the right word, the word that wouldn’t make Tracy more fearful than she already was. “Hearing challenged,” she finally concluded.

  Tracy sat silently.

  “Trust me on this,” Meghan pleaded. “Gabriel’s a good man. You owe it to Lucas to at least listen to what he has to say.”

  “Okay.” Tracy gave an almost imperceptible nod, but her expression didn’t change.

  Although Barrington was only a forty-minute drive, they left the house before nine. Meghan drove, and Tracy sat alongside her. Lucas was in the back, strapped into his car seat. At nine thirty, they pulled into the parking lot of Barrington Pediatric Audiology.

  “We’re too early,” Tracy said. “Maybe we should just find a McDonald’s and go for coffee.”

  She didn’t come right out and say it, but she feared the thought of sitting in the dreary waiting room of the doctor’s office.

  Meghan ignored the comment, unbuckled Lucas’s seat, and lifted him into her arms. She passed him over to Tracy and started up the walkway.

  The office was as child-friendly as a McDonald’s playground. The walls were painted with brightly colored animals. A tiny play table sat in one corner, and toys were scattered across the room. After only fifteen minutes, Dr. Mallory was ready to see them. By then Lucas had become attached to a stuffed lion that in an odd way resembled Sox. When Tracy tried to take it from him, he clung to it, crying, “Sah, Sah.”

  The grandmotherly nurse smiled. “It happens all the time. It’s okay; let him take it in with him.”

  Dr. Mallory was a silver-haired man with a slight paunch, round face, and soft-spoken manner, the kind that put a person at ease. Even knowing it was unlikely Lucas heard his words, he squatted, welcomed him, and patted the lion’s head as if it were alive. He then turned to Tracy.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “Most of the time you’ll be holding Lucas in your lap, and the tests are just diagnostic, so there’s no pain whatsoever.”

  He led the trio toward the first room, saying, “We’ll start with a visual reinforcement audiometry and take it from there.”

  The first test took place in a soundproof room with a single chair in the center. Tracy sat and held Lucas on her lap. Dr. Mallory pointed out the speakers on different sides of the room.

  “I’ll be testing Lucas with different voices and sounds, but you need to ignore them. It’s important we see what he does without your influencing his reaction.”

  Tracy nodded, then Dr. Mallory stepped outside and closed the door.

  For the next fifteen minutes, there was a series of voices, beeps, and bongs. In the few instances when Lucas turned in the direction of the tone, he was rewarded with a colorful display of flashing lights.

  When the doctor reentered the room, Tracy looked up with apprehension.

  “Lucas failed the test, didn’t he?”

  “I don’t think of it as failing or passing,” Dr. Mallory replied. “I see it as a road to finding the problem and fixing it.”

  She gave just the slightest hint of a smile.

  Next came an otoacoustic emissions test. They moved to another room where again Lucas sat on Tracy’s lap. Explaining the process as he worked, Dr. Mallory placed a small device in both of Lucas’s ears, then connected the wires to the computer.

  “This only takes a few minutes,” he said, “but you need to keep Lucas still while it’s running.”

  He stepped over to the computer, and moments later Tracy heard a series of soft clicks coming from the device. This time there were no happy dancing lights. When Dr. Mallory removed the device, Tracy asked how Lucas did.

  “The OAE just measures the sound waves in Lucas’s inner ear,” he said. “We’ll know more when we’re finished.”

  The final test was the auditory brainstem response, for which Lucas needed electrodes placed on his head. This was something new for Lucas, so he fussed and tried to pull the electrodes off. The technician, having been through this countless times before, offered a new toy, and in time Lucas settled down.

  All three tests, including the moves from room to room, took just under two hours. Afterward they gathered in the back office, Dr. Mallory behind a large mahogany desk, Meghan and Tracy sitting across from him, and Lucas digging through the basket of toys pushed up against the back wall.

  “Is it okay if he plays with those things?” Tracy asked.

  Dr. Mallory nodded. “That’s what they’re there for.”

  Going slowly, and thoroughly explaining each step of the process, he reviewed the test results. At the end he said, “There’s no question that Lucas has a significant hearing disability. The tests indicate he doesn’t hear anything below ninety decibels. This means unless the sound is greater than that of a lawn mower or motorcycle, he can’t hear it. It’s impossible for him to hear someone speaking in a normal voice or even shouting. Now that we know he has a problem, the next step will be to pinpoint the cause. For that he’ll need to see an ear, nose, and throat specialist.”

  Tracy’s eyes grew teary, and her chin started to quiver.

  “Don’t worry,” Dr. Mallory said. “Lucas is still young, and because we’re catching this early, there’s a good chance the problem can be corrected.”

  “How?” Meghan asked.

  “It depends on the cause of his hearing loss. It could be something as simple as eardrum ventilation tubes or hearing aids. Or there’s a chance he may need a cochlear implant.” Seeing the distress on their faces, he added, “The important thing to keep in mind is that we’re out in front of this problem, and we will correct it.”

  His emphasis on the word will held out a sliver of hope.

  He went on to suggest Dr. Goldstein, who was right there in Barrington and was one of the best.

  “I can have my receptionist set up an appointment if you wish.”

  Given no alternative, Tracy nodded.

  They returned to the waiting room, and Dr. Mallory asked the woman at the desk to call Dr. Goldstein’s office and book an appointment for Lucas. After nearly fifteen minutes of holding on the phone, the receptionist said the earliest available appointment was six weeks out.

  “Six weeks?” Meghan said. “There’s nothing sooner?”

  The assistant shook her head. “Dr. Goldstein’s booked solid.”

  With a sigh of disappointment, Meghan took the appointment card and handed it to Tracy. As they walked back to the car, she texted Gabriel.

  Just finished up. Are you available?

  Before they had Lucas buckled into his seat, Meghan had her answer.

  Absolutely. Let’s do lunch. He included the address and said to pick him up at the school.

  Several minutes later, when Meghan pulled up, Gabriel was waiting in front of the building.

  “There he is,” she told Tracy, and beeped the horn. He caught sight of her, waved, and started toward the car.

  Tracy turned, stretching her neck for a better look. She remembered Gabriel from school, and back then he had been a skinny kid slouched over with hair hanging in his face. Now she gasped.

  “That’s Gabriel Hawke?”

  Before she could say anything more, he was standing beside the car with his dark eyes and squared-off jaw tilted toward her window. He wasn’t skinny anymore, nor did he have long hair. In fact, it was short enough that she could see the hearing aid behind his right ear. The video she’d watched definitely did not do him justice.

  After a quick hello, he said, “I’ll jump in the back with Lucas,” and climbed in.

  Following his directions, Meghan drove nine blocks to a small vegan restaurant called the Healthy Choice. She parked in the back lot, and as soon as they were out of the car, she hugged Gabriel and told him how good it was to see him again.

  “Still playing the guitar?” she asked.

  He gave a wide grin. “Absolutely. It’s what keeps me sane.”

  Meghan took Tracy’s arm and tugged her into the conversation. “Gabriel, do you
remember my sister, Tracy? She was a year or two behind you in school.”

  Gabriel shifted his eyes to Tracy and smiled as he gave a nod. “Sure I do, but I’ll bet she doesn’t remember me.”

  His playful challenge caused Tracy to blush.

  “I do so,” she said. “I remember the guitar you had slung over your back all the time.”

  He gave a hearty chuckle. “That guitar is what got me through the toughest years of my life. In high school it was my best friend.”

  They chatted for a few minutes, then went inside. It was easy to see why Gabriel had chosen this place; it was whisper quiet with standing plants and bits of greenery in every open space. On each table there was a small pot of herbs: basil on this table, dill on that, rosemary on yet another.

  “How charming,” Meghan said, sighing.

  “I like it here because it’s quiet, and I don’t pick up a lot of background noise.” In a low whisper Gabriel added, “Of course, every so often I find myself wishing they had meat on the menu.”

  They slid into a booth and ordered salads, bean burgers, and lentil soup. Once the waitress was gone, Gabriel asked what the audiologist had said. Tracy and Meghan went back and forth, with one of them remembering this and the other remembering that.

  “Lucas can’t hear anything below ninety decibels,” Tracy said. “That’s really bad. He had almost no reaction in the blinking light test.”

  Not showing any visible signs of concern, Gabriel said, “I’m assuming Dr. Mallory referred you to an ENT. Who was it?”

  “Dr. Goldstein,” Meghan replied. “We’ve got a consultation set up for mid-September.”

  “September? Why so long?”

  “It was the earliest appointment we could get.”

  “Nonsense,” Gabriel huffed. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tapped out a text.

  Sorry to bother you, Herb, but a friend of mine needs a consultation for her fifteen-month-old. Can you do me a huge favor and fit them in this afternoon?