Page 33 of The Voice We Find

Her eyebrows spike in an expression I’ve seen many times. “And Sophie works here with you every day?”

“Most days.”

She peers at me as if she’s working out a calculation, then rotates toward the glass that separates the studio from the booth. Only it’s empty.

“Hello.” Sophie appears around the corner and gives us both a little wave. Her cheeks are splotchy, and her eyes still hold the hint of tears, but her smile is heartfelt if not a little curious, too.

My sister’s countenance changes in an instant.

“Hello,” she says perkily as she stretches out her hand. “I’m Gabby, August’s favorite little sister.”

It’s also her favorite little joke.

Sophie extends her hand to Gabby and introduces herself, as well, though I can tell she’s trying to place the unique tone she hears in Gabby’s voice. Though my sister’s been speaking English since she was adopted at six, the trauma she suffered to her head and eardrums in the accident has slightly altered the way she speaks. She graduated from physical and cognitive therapies not long after the first year, but Gabby will remain in speech therapy for the foreseeable future.

If only there was a specialized therapy for her hearing prognosis, too.

Gabby turns to me and signs,Wow! She’s very beautiful.

I give a slight shake of my head to deter her from going any further with this game she loves.

But in true Gabby style, she is not easily put off. She counters with a simple sign I’m sure is the equivalent to me being the same no-fun brother she left a month ago, followed by an eye roll.

Iam not amused.

When I finally look over at Sophie, her gaze is pinging back and forth between us, her eyes round and on alert. I may have left out a few things when I mentioned my sister to her.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “My sister seems to have left her manners at camp.”

“I have great manners,” Gabby retorts. “My brother said you’re an actress. Did you come from Hollywood? Because you are super, super pretty.”

“Oh, thank you.” Sophie laughs and touches a hand to her chest. “I think you’re really pretty, too.” She glances at me. “As for Hollywood...” She shakes her head.

“What?” Gabby asks, focusing hard on Sophie’s face. Unfinished sentences can be difficult, especially when the speaker’s head is turned. Gabby uses several senses to reach the accuracy she has with her aids—lipreading being a key player.

“Um, I...” Sophie starts, obviously flustered by how to finish. “I’m sorry. Am I doing something wrong?”

Gabby looks at me and signs that she doesn’t know what she’s saying.

I place a gentle hand on Sophie’s back. “It’s best to use complete sentences. Gabby’s aids pick up a lot, but certain tones are more difficult than others. She also lipreads.”

“Oh, okay, sure,” Sophie says, bewildered. “I’ve never ... I mean, I wish I would have learned more than the alphabet in ASL.”

Gabby smiles patiently. “If you ever decide to learn, you should teach my brother.” She winks. “He basically only knows how to ask where the bathroom is and how to tell me to stop being annoying.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes, but Sophie laughs. And I can tell Gabby enjoys that very much.

“What were you saying about Hollywood?” Gabby asks.

This time, I watch as Sophie readies herself to answer. “I’ve never acted in a movie, but I have been in a few musicals.”

“She’s been on Broadway,” I add proudly.

Sophie looks surprised at my knowledge of this, and it’s then I remember it was Chip who told me this information, not Sophie herself.

“Broadway? I love theater!” my sister erupts. “I’m hoping I can join a drama club with a few of my friends from church,” Gabby says with a glance back at me.

Oh, good. More things to be involved in at church.

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