The Right Kind of Fool

by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  The sheriff had taken it upon himself to “escort” the family home, and now he and Creed were sitting on the porch. Delphy had taken Loyal upstairs. The boy had clearly been humiliated, and from the look on his face, Creed guessed he’d been working hard to hold back tears. “I should go talk to him.”

  Virgil leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Which speech did you have in mind?”

  “Which what?” Creed was confused.

  “Which speech. Will it be the ‘get back on the horse’ speech, or the ‘it wasn’t as bad as you think and you’ll be gone soon anyway’ speech?”

  “I . . . well, I hadn’t quite thought what I’d say.”

  “What I suspected.” Virgil stood and stretched. “Pretty night. Look at all those stars. Kind of night that gives a man room to think.” He slapped Creed on the shoulder and sauntered off into the darkness.

  Creed watched his friend go. Though Virgil wasn’t one to meddle in family business, Creed thought he understood what he was saying. This was no time to go off half-cocked and make his son feel worse than he already did. So, what should he say?

  Delphy slipped out onto the porch and stood next to Creed, leaning into him with her hip. He reached out, circled her waist, and urged her onto his lap. “Don’t you try and start anything,” she said, her breath light against his ear.

  “How is he?”

  She sighed and rested against him. “Upset. He wanted to prove that he could hold his own with the other kids. That he can do what they can do. That . . .” She trailed off.

  “That he’d do just fine going to school right here in Beverly,” Creed finished for her. She nodded, her hair tickling his chin. He reached up to smooth the stray wisps back into place. “Do you think he would? Do fine here, I mean?”

  “I do. Although now I’m not sure he thinks so.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what I should say to him.”

  She raised up and looked at him, her eyes dark in the night. “I’m glad. Sometimes—” she hesitated, then picked up again—“I think sometimes you settle for what’s good instead of taking the time to consider what’s best.”

  “Is that how the ladies are talking to their husbands these days?” His tone was teasing, mostly because he didn’t want her to know how deeply he felt her words.

  “The ones who make the same mistakes as their husbands talk like that.”

  He caught the hiccup in her voice and drew her closer, pleased when she molded herself to him. “What do you think is best?”

  She settled her head against his shoulder. “I think we shouldn’t limit Loyal. For too many years I’ve tried to protect him, to insulate him from a world I thought would be dangerous for him.” She sighed. “But he’s found a fair amount of trouble all the same.” She shivered, and Creed rubbed her arm, holding her closer. “I think he should spend time with all sorts of people—ones who can hear, and ones who can’t. Kids his own age and adults he can look up to. People from town and out on the farms. People who come from different places—like Otto.”

  “Maybe even girlfriends,” Creed teased.

  She laughed and it echoed in his chest. “Yes, so long as they’re as sweet and kind as Rebecca Westfall.”

  Creed found her lips and kissed her long and slow, all the tenderness he’d been denying for too many years singing between them. When they were both breathless, he pulled away. “I’d better go talk to him before I forget how to talk,” he said.

  She laughed, low and husky. “Good idea. And then maybe we can stop talking some more.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Loyal buried his face in his pillow. Now he could neither see nor hear. If only he could stop feeling. He’d been an idiot to think he could pull off something like playing a lead role in the town pageant. He’d been so nervous, and the greasy sausage roll he’d eaten earlier had been a bad choice. When he lost sight of Michael for a minute and didn’t know if he was supposed to be signing or not, he’d panicked. And the panic had churned in his belly with the food and . . . humiliating. What could be more humiliating than throwing up in front of the whole town? Oh yeah. Fainting in front of the whole town. He groaned, not caring if it made a sound or not. No one was here to listen anyway.

  The light switched on, and he felt the mattress shift. He angled his head to peer out. He thought it would be Mother trying to console him, but Father sat at the foot of his bed, watching him. He sat up cross-legged and hugged his pillow to his chest. Was he in trouble? He probably should be.

  “I’ve been thinking.” Father made the sign for thinking. “You’re going to be fourteen soon. Grown and a man before we know it.” This was not what Loyal had been expecting. Was Father going to send him into the world on his own? He sure as shooting wasn’t ready for that. “It’s time you started making some of your own decisions.” Loyal squeezed the pillow harder. “I’m leaving it up to you to decide whether you want to go back to the school for the deaf or go to school here in Beverly. The choice is yours, son.”

  Loyal just stared, not sure he’d read his father’s lips right. He wet his own lips and found the words, “I decide?”

  Father looked delighted. “Yes, you decide.”

  Loyal stared at the quilt on his bed. Mother had made it using lots of blue fabric, his favorite color. He had another one a lot like it at school. He’d stared at that one a hundred times, thinking about how much he wished he could stay home and go to school—be part of a real family. But now . . . he wasn’t so sure. Here, everyone would know him as the deaf boy who threw up at the Civil War pageant. Back at the deaf school, no one would know about his embarrassing performance.

  He pointed his index finger at his forehead and made little circles with a thoughtful look on his face. “You want to think about it?” Father asked. Loyal nodded. “That’s wise. I knew you were smart.” Father leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. It was something he hadn’t done in years, and tears sprang to Loyal’s eyes. Thankfully Father turned and left before he could see them.

  By breakfast time, Loyal had made up his mind. He was going back to the school for the deaf. He was pretty sure it was what his parents wanted, and he wasn’t ready to face the kids he’d embarrassed himself in front of. Although he thought Rebecca would still be his friend, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see her either. Which made it that much worse when she waltzed into the kitchen while he was still eating. He’d gotten up late, and Father was cleaning out the shed in the backyard for some reason. Mother was hanging out laundry. Loyal stirred his oatmeal trying to make it look like he’d eaten some.

  Rebecca skipped into the room, stopped, and frowned at him. “What’s the matter with you?” He formed an O at his chin and flung his hand outward. “Well, you look like something’s wrong. Is it because of yesterday?” Loyal shrugged and dug his spoon deeper into the bowl.

  Rebecca slid into the chair nearest him and picked up the piece of toast he’d been ignoring. She began nibbling on it. “Some of the kids want to learn sign language. They thought yesterday was a pip.” Loyal ate a bite of oatmeal for something to do.

  Mother came inside and must have spoken to Rebecca. “No thank you, Mrs. Raines. I had breakfast.” Then Father came in and ruffled Loyal’s hair. He reached up and smoothed it back into place. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone?

  Mother sat across from him and lifted her hands with a smile to sign Have you decided? Loyal scowled. He didn’t want to talk about this right now. He signed an emphatic no. Her face fell. Don’t you want to go to school here? She was speaking as she signed, and Rebecca perked up.

  “Are you coming to school with me?” She practically bounced in her chair.

  They all watched him, eager, expectant. Even Father looked like he was trying not to smile. Loyal flung his spoon down, stood, and put everything he had behind speaking a single word. “No!” It must have been loud. They all froze and stared at him. He fled the room, banging out the front door.

  Re
becca wanted to follow Loyal, but Creed persuaded her to go on home, assuring her that he would get to the root of what was troubling his son. But now, as he divided the lilies Delphy had planted in the front yard, he was mostly trying to tell himself he wasn’t doing this just so he could keep an eye out for Loyal’s return. He felt like he was messing this up no matter what he did. Had he been this changeable when he was a boy?

  Delphy came out and sat on the front steps, watching him. “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For doing my garden work for me.”

  “Oh. Sure. I imagine there are plenty of things you’d like me to do around here.” He stomped on the top of the shovel, thrusting it deeper beneath a clump of roots.

  “I could take offense at that, but I’m not going to.” Creed stopped and looked at Delphy with a frown.

  “Come. Sit.” She patted the step next to her. He let his shoulders slump, leaned the shovel against the porch, and slouched down beside her.

  “I’ve had to do some soul-searching,” she began. Creed tried to jump in, but she held up her hand and even he knew what that sign meant. “I’ve been afraid for Loyal. Afraid he’d get hurt. Afraid he wouldn’t fit in. Afraid people would be cruel because he’s deaf.” She sighed and laid a hand on his knee. “Afraid no one—not even his father—could be trusted to take care of him. And so I’ve been holding him back. Rebecca and Michael are the first real friends he’s made away from his school and that’s just wrong.” She waved her hand toward the small cluster of buildings that made up their town. “This is his home, and I’ve been keeping him from it.” She laughed. “I guess he finally got old enough—strong enough—to break free.”

  Creed took the words in, not rushing to respond. Loyal, old enough to make his own decisions. Even the bad ones. “He sure broke free in a big way. Can’t say as I think all his decisions this summer have been good ones.” He felt righteousness rise up in his chest. “Like this morning. Yelling at us and then heading for the hills isn’t exactly mature behavior.”

  She tightened her grip where her hand rested on his thigh. “Well now, I’d have to agree with you there.”

  “I . . .” Creed choked on his own words. He hung his head. “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

  “Like father, like son?” Her voice was soft, musical even. He wished Loyal could hear it.

  “He’s better than me in a lot of ways.”

  She patted his leg and leaned into him. “You’re a good man, Creed Raines. Hardheaded and stubborn, but those can work to your advantage sometimes.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I think Loyal wants to please you more than anything. He wants to be like you, to do what you do, and believe what you believe. Maybe the problem is that you’re still figuring out what that is.” She stood and he instantly missed her touch. She looked down at him. “I think I forgot why I fell in love with you in the first place.” His heart clenched, then eased when he saw a smile dancing around her lips. “But it’s coming back to me.”

  The screen door slapped behind her as she went inside. Creed quelled the urge to follow her. He had something more pressing he needed to do.

  thirty-eight

  Loyal hadn’t planned to come to this spot along the river, he just found himself here. The scene of the crime, he thought. He shucked off his shirt and shoes and waded out into the water. Although the September day was still plenty warm, the water felt icy cold. Goose pimples rose all over him, but he pushed ahead until he could dunk his whole body. The water was a shock against the heat of anger lingering in his face. He surfaced and inhaled a long, deep breath that reached all the way to his fingers and toes. It felt good—like he’d been suffocating and now could breathe at last.

  He stood in the water and looked toward the place where Eddie Minks had died. It had changed since that midsummer day. A few leaves were starting to color, and the tangle of undergrowth was dying back. He didn’t suppose there would be even a hint of the blood he’d seen there back in July. He moved closer and startled when he realized there was a man sitting under a tree, watching him. He lifted a hand, and Loyal saw it was Otto. Sloshing over to the riverbank, Loyal climbed out. Otto nodded once, and although he didn’t smile exactly, he looked welcoming. So Loyal decided to go and sit down next to him—he had a question for Otto.

  While Loyal was chewing his lip trying to think how to communicate, Otto touched him on the arm. Thank you, he signed. Surprised, Loyal signed back Why?

  “This is my only sign,” Otto said. It was a little hard to follow his lips since he spoke in a different way, but Loyal concentrated and thought he was getting most of the words. “Miss Rebecca showed me. In case I see you.” Loyal lifted his shoulders, furrowed his brow, and gave his head a tiny shake. “Why do I thank you?” Loyal nodded. “It was you who, how do you say, got me off the hook.” He hooked a finger in his mouth like a fish, and Loyal smiled.

  The two sat in companionable silence for a while. A breeze stirred, drying Loyal’s damp skin and making him shiver. He picked up a stick and smoothed a spot in the dirt. Why did you confess? he wrote.

  Otto nodded, his expression serious. “It is difficult to explain.” Loyal sat back to wait. Otto spoke carefully, as though plucking his words from the air one by one. Loyal was glad since it made it easier to follow him. “Mr. Hadden gave me a home when I had no home . . .” He paused, searching. “They do not like that I am different. I am German.” He puffed his chest out as he said it. “My leg, it slows me down.” He thumped the foot that Loyal could see was twisted. “But Mr. Hadden, he tell me he is different, too.” He looked to the wind-stirred leaves above him as if they might whisper what he wanted to say. “He did not tell me how, but I see.” Otto pointed to his eye. “His wife is gone. People want much from him but give little. He is lonely in a big house.” Otto shrugged. “I could see a way to give him much.”

  Loyal considered the young man’s words. He picked his stick up again, wiped out the earlier question, and wrote sacrifice. Otto smiled and picked up his own stick to write opfern in the dirt. “Now we have three languages between us,” he said.

  Loyal snuck back home expecting his parents to be angry. But neither of them was there. He’d missed lunch so he dug around and found a tin of cookies, then went out back to choose an apple from the tree. Mother would be making pies and apple butter soon, and she’d need his help. Maybe he should stay. Maybe he should be like Otto and figure out what the people he cared about needed. He’d been trying to impress Father and persuade Mother to let him stay in Beverly to attend school here. And he wanted to stay in Beverly so the three of them could be a real family—not just on Sundays or Christmas—but all the time.

  Of course, that had changed when he made such an idiot of himself in front of the whole town. But if feeling embarrassed could change his mind . . . No. While he wanted to be part of a normal family, that wasn’t what he’d really been after. He’d just wanted to be normal. Or at least to prove he could pass for normal.

  He bit into the apple, the crisp, sweet flesh crunching between his teeth. Apples were always better right after you picked them. He took another bite and noticed there was a wormhole he needed to eat around. Even apples weren’t perfect. God made the apple, and God made him. And neither of them was perfect. He took a bite from the opposite side of the fruit. Still good. Still sweet, even if there was a worm lurking on the other side.

  Maybe he didn’t have to be normal. Maybe all he needed to be was the person God made him.

  Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see his parents walking around the house hand in hand. They were deep in conversation, and for just a moment Loyal felt like maybe they were complete without him. Then Mother looked up and saw him. Her mouth formed an O and she hurried to him, clasping him to her. He felt the rumble of her voice and then her laughter. She took a step back and began signing. Funny that I forgot you can’t hear me! I’m so glad you’re home. I was worried. Her expression changed. Grew seriou
s. I knew you would be fine. You are brave and smart. I know you can take care of yourself.

  Loyal didn’t know what to do. He thought he’d be in trouble. He thought Mother would lecture him about not going off on his own, about how it wasn’t safe for a boy who couldn’t hear.

  He looked to Father and saw that he had an expression of deep pleasure on his face. He lifted his hands and began signing. It was stilted and simplified and not altogether correct, but it was sign language nonetheless. Happy me, you home. Proud me, you my son. You strong. You brave. He paused and seemed to take a deep breath. He shook his fingers like it was hard work, this signing business, and he needed to loosen them up. I hope you stay. Go school here.

  Loyal stared in shock. Father wanted him to stay in Beverly. And he was proud of him. Thought he was strong and brave. He realized he was shaping the words with his hands as they tumbled through his mind. He glanced at Mother, who was smiling and wiping at tears.

  Then it really and truly hit him. Father was learning sign language. He’d learned a sign or two here and there, but now he was attempting full sentences. Complete thoughts. He didn’t expect Loyal to be like him. He was trying to be like Loyal. Without thinking he ran as hard as he could and crashed into his father, wrapping his arms around him. He was sobbing, but it didn’t matter. Father wasn’t ashamed. Father loved him just the way he was.

  Epilogue

  Delphy watched Creed watch Loyal as he picked at his breakfast. Her son was nervous about his first day of school in Beverly—she could tell. She could also tell that her husband was even now delighting in their son, love shining in his eyes. Maybe all the time she’d spent with Loyal was teaching her to look deeper, beyond the words a person spoke. And maybe this summer had taught her to hold on a little more loosely than she had in the past, letting the people she loved live their lives without needing to lock them in her heart.