Legacy of Silence

by Flo Fitzpatrick

  Miranda jumped out of her car and ran into the street, holding her hand up to stop the slow-moving traffic. The terrified puppy stared at her but remained frozen, refusing to move from its spot in the center of the road. When Miranda knelt down and put her arms around the dog, it finally managed a feeble tail wag. No collar and no leash. As cars carefully made their way around the pair, Miranda got creative and let her shoulder bag drop to the ground. She looped the strap around the dog’s neck like a makeshift leash in order to persuade the collie to accompany her to safety.

  “Scratch that. You’re not exactly a moose.” She tossed the bag back over her shoulder and scooped the dog into her arms. There was no protest.

  Miranda opened the door to the SUV and gently placed the puppy inside. The dog quickly made herself at home in the passenger seat—after doing the obligatory three-circles-in-a-row routine. She looked up into Miranda’s eyes, then batted her with a small paw. “Well, you are a little charmer, aren’t you?” Miranda crooned. She spent a few moments hugging the pooch and receiving lavish kisses in return.

  “All righty, sweet girl, I’d say this changes my plans for the rest of the day,” she said. “Let’s see. What needs doin’ here? Hang on a second. Let me check my phone and see if the vet my dad and I used to use is still in business.” She punched in the name Dr. Tyler and was pleased to note that the clinic hadn’t moved. “Cool. We’re off to the vet’s to make sure you’re okay, then we’ll buy you a new collar, leash and name tag—once I figure out what to name you. Bless phones that do everything but drive the car!” She patted the puppy’s head then gently released the paws that had encircled her neck, closed the passenger-side door and trotted back around to the driver’s seat.

  The dog happily shifted position so she could watch her rescuer as Miranda inserted the keys. Then the puppy cautiously sat up and stared at her new buddy as though fearing she would disappear without constant surveillance. Miranda gave her a reassuring pat.

  “I am crazy,” she muttered to herself. “I’m adopting a dog. What do I do when I get back to Manhattan?” She glanced at the puppy. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take you with me and hire dog walkers and pet sitters any nights I can’t make it home before midnight. I’ll even quit going on tour. I never liked that anyway.” She smiled. “I have so missed not having a dog for the past six years. You, Miss Puppy, lucked out today with your timing.”

  The dog barked once in obvious agreement.

  Three hours and two hundred dollars later, Miranda and Phoebe—named after the character Miranda had played in Illumination—were back in the SUV on their way to Miss Virginia’s house. In the show, Phoebe Flannigan had also found herself alone on a highway—after being dumped by her cheating boyfriend. But by the end of Illumination, that Phoebe had found true love and happiness after learning the difference between lies and charm. Phoebe the dog appeared to have already made the distinction and determined precisely who her best buddy was. She was gazing at Miranda with that expression of sheer adoration and trust only a dog can muster with complete honesty. Amazing, considering Phoebe had obviously been mistreated. Miranda had always heard that Borders were one of the smartest breeds and Phoebe already seemed to know that Miranda had rescued her and was ready to give her all the love and care she needed.

  Miranda checked her watch. She was due to meet Russ in less than fifteen minutes, which wasn’t quite enough time to take Phoebe to her dad’s house. Miranda didn’t really want to let her spend the day with strangers anyway. Hopefully Russ wouldn’t mind having an extra canine at the house.

  She parked the car in front of Virginia’s. Four men were standing under the large shade trees in the front lawn, engaged in an animated conversation. Miranda recognized Brett and Cort and George Miller, the determined Realtor. The fourth man wasn’t familiar but the large red logo on his shirt blaring Tomlinson Alarms was a decent clue that he was there to install the new alarm system. A fifth man stood on the porch with Spero by his side. Russ.

  Miranda attached the new reflective leash to the new reflective collar, grabbed her bags and eased Phoebe out of the car. The dog immediately began barking at the men and Miranda realized she’d gotten a perk as well as a friend. Phoebe already made her feel more secure than any alarm system ever could. Miranda was sure if she let the puppy loose, Phoebe would begin herding the quartet into a tight circle. But when Miranda told her to sit and stay, Phoebe calmly did as asked, eyeing each man in turn as though measuring friend or foe. Only when Phoebe had decided no threat was imminent did she turn her attention to Spero, who was already manically wagging his tail, eager to make a new pal and begin a grand chase around the yard.

  Miranda wasn’t as confident as her dog that the group was trustworthy, but she said, “Gentleman. Nice to see you. What’s up?”

  George crowned himself spokesman for the quartet. “Mr. Tomlinson has just installed your new system. Brett and Cort and Mr. Gerik—” he gestured toward Russ, who was keeping his distance “—supervised. I happened to drop by in the middle of installations to ask if I could tour the house and we’ve been talking football for the past twenty minutes.”

  “Ah.” Miranda made a mental note to find a better word to express, if not displeasure, at the very least, uneasiness. She opted for “Um.” She inclined her head toward the man who’d done the installation. “What do I, uh, that is, what do Mr. Gerik and I need to know about alarm codes, Mr. Tomlinson?”

  “Simple. You punch in the code to activate. You punch it in to deactivate.” He handed her a card. “Here’s the number. If you or Gerik wants to change it, give our office a call and we can do that over the phone. Brett and Cort have the code, as well.” He continued to explain exactly how the alarm system worked and what his company would do in an emergency situation.

  Miranda barely glanced at the card. She wasn’t sure what the point of an alarm system was if everybody and his associate had the number, but she thanked him and Brett and Cort for handling the details.

  George assumed his most charming air and tone. “If you have time, Miranda, I really would love a brief tour. I’ve seen the photos and read about the essential details, but knowing the ambiance and the general layout would be a huge help when I list the property.”

  Miranda inhaled and inwardly debated letting Phoebe loose with the word kill. She remained pleasant, merely saying, without a smile, “Excuse me, Mr. Miller, but neither Mr. Gerik nor I have retained you or anyone else to sell this property. If I’m not mistaken we don’t have the right to do so. The property is in the process of being contested by both of us. If and when that property is legally mine, I’ll let a Realtor take a tour. If Mr. Gerik wins the estate then you’re free to seek his business. At any rate, I’m busy right now. The puppy is hungry and we’re going inside to grab a snack and do some work.” She addressed all four men. “Thanks for your help today. Bye, y’all.”

  The group took the broad hint. Brett and Cort sped away in their respective company cars after asking what time they needed to send the paralegal to pick up the key. George hopped into a spiffy new sports car and Mr. Tomlinson headed for his van after informing Miranda the alarm system was currently not active.

  Phoebe had been as patient as one puppy could. The instant the men left she angled her chin toward Russ and Spero. It was obvious she wanted an introduction. Miranda loosened her grip on Phoebe’s leash to let her know it was now okay to relax and the pup immediately began to perform the classic doggie wag-and-sniff ritual with Spero so they could become instant buddies. Russ looked at his dog, at Phoebe, then at Miranda. “New friend?”

  “Yep. We found each other earlier today literally in the middle of the road.”

  Russ exhaled in exasperation. “Slower, please? Or better still—this worked before—mime it, all right?”

  Miranda pantomimed a car speeding, a car braking, a car door opening and pointed to Phoebe as she flung her arms
down.

  Russ’s eyebrows rose. His voice sounded hoarse with anger as he asked, “They tossed her out?”

  Miranda nodded.

  “I’m holding back some words I haven’t spoken since Afghanistan. It’s pretty astonishing what savages some people can be.”

  “I totally agree.”

  He bent down and gave Phoebe a big hug, nearly getting knocked down by his own dog, who wanted in on the action. “She looks young. Definitely a puppy.”

  Miranda nodded and held up four, then five fingers. “Vet thought maybe four months. Five at the most.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Phoebe.”

  He looked confused and she realized that Phoebe probably wasn’t easy to lip-read. She attempted her own awkward hand alphabet, which Russ amazingly picked up on.

  “Phoebe?” he asked.

  Miranda nodded and Phoebe promptly gave Russ a sloppy kiss, then snuggled against his chest. Miranda suddenly envied the dog.

  “Let ’em both off the leash,” Russ said. “Spero’s very good and I’ve never known a Border collie who strayed from the flock, no matter their age.”

  Miranda did as asked. The dogs wagged tails and met wet nose to wet nose, then ran around the yard a few times to make certain their rhythm was in sync. Miranda turned to Russ and began to mime eating. “Lunch?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Three’s a bit late, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve been busy.” She pointed to Phoebe. “Rescuing the pooch, here. Before that I was getting myself hired to teach at the children’s theater.” She had no idea how to mime what she’d just said.

  Russ sighed. “There are numerous notebooks in the house. Let’s go inside and perhaps you could write out whatever you’re trying to say?”

  She nodded and then motioned to her car and mouthed, Dog and people food.

  “Need some help toting?”

  “Sure.”

  Once inside the house, Miranda fed both dogs and made a couple of sandwiches for herself and Russ, who didn’t seem bothered by eating in the middle of the afternoon.

  Russ finished his lunch. He looked at Miranda, who was pouring sodas for both of them, then looked at Phoebe—now sleeping comfortably on top of Spero’s back, then back at Miranda. He gave the first unguarded smile she’d seen since she’d met him, barely a week earlier.

  “By the way, Spero was also a rescue. Best dog I’ve ever known. Good job.”

  She blushed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He turned serious. “Now, I suppose we need to do some work. We’ve got two hours until we’re booted from the premises.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MIRANDA PROUDLY SIGNED, Great class! See you next week, and thank you to the instructor, Dr. Vinny, then picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. The ASL class at The Cooper School was advertised as an intensive workshop designed to cram as much information as the students’ brains would allow within three Saturday sessions. Intensive was an understatement. Grueling, exhausting, mind-blowing and just all-out maniacally insane were the correct synonyms. Miranda had asked herself five times during the past five hours why she’d been crazy enough to take this class. So she could communicate slightly better with someone she wouldn’t see again after the Fourth of July? Five times her inner self had declined to answer.

  Dr. Vinny had begun the lesson with a dazzling array of images, using a combination of on-screen technology and props, which included small plants, dollhouse furniture and Dr. Vinny’s large mixed-breed cat who was obscurely named MacDougal.

  After bombarding the students with visuals and touchable objects—MacDougal, a benign feline who didn’t mind having his ears scratched being one of the more desirable tactiles—Dr. Vinny divided the class into four pairs to practice. Miranda’s partner was a child of perhaps six or seven with badly trimmed dark brown hair, huge brown eyes and two missing front teeth. His name tag read Jesse.

  Jesse signed what appeared to be You’re pretty! and Miranda promptly fell in love.

  She tried to sign back, You’re handsome! but learning the signs for small plants, doll furniture and MacDougal hadn’t let her master returning compliments. So she smiled, pointed at his face, gave him two thumbs up and winked.

  Jesse grinned.

  Dr. Vinny kept the pairs together until the end of class. No words were spoken. By the time the lesson was over, Miranda was signing what Dr. Vinny called the tourist questions such as the all-important Where is the restroom?, the shopper’s required How much is that?, the hopefully never needed Call the police! and her favorite, Where’s the best bakery?

  After Dr. Vinny had signed that class was over and passed out materials for home use, Jesse politely escorted Miranda into the hallway.

  “I’m so tired! And ready for that bakery! Not to mention the bathroom.”

  Startled, Miranda whirled around to face one of her classmates. The woman appeared to be in her mid-forties but was aiming for a younger look with her skinny jeans, midriff-baring top, multiple ear piercings, more cosmetics than Miranda had worn in her last show and a red tattoo on her arm too messy to distinguish.

  The woman had clearly been addressing Miranda, so Miranda smiled and replied, “I saw a ladies’ room down that hall. The bakery is still a question.” She paused, then said, “You obviously don’t have hearing issues. May I be nosy and ask why you’re doing the intense weekend workshops?”

  The woman pointed to the small child who was still clinging to Miranda’s hand. “Him.”

  “Ah. Your son?”

  “Nope. Foster kid—one a’ three but the other two can hear. Jesse Castillo. ’Course the kid’s way aheada me in signing. He gets some lessons at his school and he learned some in the hospital after his accident a couple years ago. He ain’t totally deaf, though, and, ya know, he can talk. But he never says a word. I don’t get it. Maybe he ain’t all that bright?”

  The woman dug her cell phone out of her purse and punched in a number while continuing to talk. “Anyways, the state pays for fosters to take these classes if they have a disabled kid so I figured I’d do this workshop thing ’cause I ain’t got no time for night school.”

  Miranda glanced down at Jesse, wondering if he’d lip-read anything his foster mother had said. Fortunately, MacDougal the cat had joined them and Jesse was too busy hugging the kitty to pay attention. The woman was almost yelling into her phone. “Yeah. We’re done! I was fixin’ ta grab a bite at Chunky’s. Wanna meet me?” She paused for a second then nodded vigorously. “Great! Lemme take care ’a some business and we’re outta here.” She dropped the phone back into her bag.

  Miranda was puzzled. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you agree to take a special-needs child if you don’t have time?”

  “My stinkin’ ex signed like a whiz. He had a deaf brother. Then the rat up and leaves me a month after we get the kid! And Jesse’s not a wack job—he’s not gonna set fire to my apartment or nuthin’ crazy. But this class was too hard! I don’t know how I’m gonna get through the next couple of sessions. I’m just not catchin’ on.”

  “It should get easier. And perhaps you and Jesse could practice at home?” Miranda winked at the little boy. “He’s a sweetheart. I don’t know if you noticed but he and I were paired off in class and I quickly discovered he’s really smart. I’d say he’s well worth the time and effort you’re putting in.” She paused, then held out her hand to Jesse’s foster mother. “By the way, I’m Miranda Nolan.”

  “Willow Terence.”

  “Cool!” Miranda said. “That would make a great stage name.”

  “Well, ya know, it’s really Wilhelmina but I just hated that. Some of my friends called me Willie—I hated that even worse—so I came up with Willow. My ex said it fits ’cause I’m so thin,” she said with more than a t
race of bitterness.

  “Well, I like it. It’s very pretty.”

  “Thanks. Hey, can you look after the kid for a minute or two? I really need to use that john. I guess I shouldn’ta had a super large coffee, but this thing started so early I figured I needed all the lead I could handle. And I could sure use a cigarette break, too.”

  Miranda nodded.

  Willow took off down the hall, leaving an anxious Jesse with Miranda. For all he knew, his foster parent might not be coming back.

  Miranda quickly signed, Where is the restroom? Jesse got it. His expression signaled understanding and a hint of amusement.

  Miranda wanted to chat with Jesse but didn’t know enough signing to entertain him while Willow was off using the facilities. After a moment, she decided to try a slightly different form of communication. Miranda signed, dancing, then went into dance-teacher mode and demonstrated a basic tap-shuffle step; finishing with a huge ta-da, throwing her arms out wide as she dropped to one knee.

  Jesse’s eyes lit up. He attempted the shuffle step and dropped to his knee with a flourish. Miranda showed him a shuffle ball change about three times then signaled for Jesse to give it a shot. He nailed it on the first try, then shyly tugged at her hand and pointed to her feet. He wanted more.

  Miranda was in the process of teaching him a simple four-count riff when Willow returned with what appeared to be an extra pound of cosmetics on her face. “Come on, kid,” she said, grabbing his hand. “We’re gonna meet up with Rick at Chunky’s for a burger then it’s home to see what the others have been up to.”

  Jesse bit his lip. He had no idea what she was saying but he was aware they were leaving, especially when the woman pointed to the exit sign, turned and began to head down the hall. Jesse pulled his hand from Willow’s grasp, gave Miranda a huge hug, then followed his foster mother out of the building. He stopped just before he opened the door, dropped to his knee and gave a fine imitation of the ta-da! finish Miranda had just showed him. She applauded and the two waved wildly at each other before he opened the door that led to the parking lot.