Page 41 of The Voice We Find

“Those your friends up there?”

“It appears so,” I say flatly.

“Then here, you’ll need these, too.” She reaches back down into her basket again to hand me a tiny package I recognize immediately. “Disposable earplugs,” she clarifies. “They’re a great-grandmother’s best friend.” The irony in this day has reached an all-time high.

With that, she turns and plants herself on the chair with a huff that sounds like the deflation of a bike tire. “What’s your name, son?”

“August.”

She sticks out her hand, and I lean down to shake it from where I’m still standing in the center of this row. “I’m Bonnie Brewer. I sithere every Sunday so I can get to my handicap spot in the parking lot before some teenager trying to get their Holy Hamburger from In-N-Out can mow me down first.” She chuckles and coughs. “Enjoy the service.”

And with that, she starts flipping through her deconstructed bulletin again.

“Thanks,” I say. “You too, Mrs. Brewer.”

As I turn to exit, making my way around knees and over purses and bags and coffee cups, I hear Bonnie’s craggy voice call out after me, “Don’t be a stranger!”

I head to the front of the auditorium, where Sophie is chatting with a young couple in the seats in front of her. But Gabby waves at me, Tyler by her side.

“Hey, man. Thanks for coming this morning,” Tyler says with a too-eager grin. It’s remarkable how clearly he speaks—even without the help of aids or a cochlear implant. Was that a testament to his mother being a speech therapist? I’m sure it couldn’t hurt. From what I’ve researched on the subject, early intervention is highly recommended.

Gabby stands comfortably by his side when she reaches for my arm. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

I nod, feeling the need to unbutton my shirt collar at the sight of them standing so close. How had I been so blind to miss the forming attachment between them? “I was hoping to catch you two before you left the driveway this morning.” I make sure to look Tyler in the eye, wondering if he’ll be able to lip-read what I’ve just said. Gabby has bragged many times about this superpower of his. No time like the present to put it to the test.

He dips his chin in acknowledgment. “Sorry I missed you. I came to the door, but Gabby said you were in the shower. We were hoping to get here in plenty of time to rehearse.”

I’m about to respond when Gabby interrupts.

“What?” she asks Tyler, obviously having missed the start of this exchange. She touches her left ear, and I know the large crowd is making it difficult for her to differentiate our voices from the background noises. I need to see if I can adjust the controls on her app this week. When it works, it’s much more convenient than having to wait for an appointment with her audiologist.

Instead of repeating himself vocally, Tyler signs in ASL to Gabby. She nods and responds in kind. I watch, feeling more like a third wheel than I have since my awkward middle school days.

Is that ... is that how Gabby feels in conversations with hearing people?

“Yes,” Gabby vocalizes, and it takes me a moment to realize that she’s responding to the conversation she’s having with Tyler. Then she turns to me. “Our announcement went super well during first service. Pastor Kreissig says we’re welcome on this stage any time. We’ll be on right after the worship band finishes. We attended first service already, so we’ll probably stay backstage, which is why there are just two seats up here for you and Sophie.”

At the sound of her name, Sophie twists in my direction, and for an instant, I forget how much I dreaded coming this morning. I don’t ever get to see Sophie on the weekends—and I can’t ignore the way my pulse doubles its cadence at the thought of more time with her. Her dress is a soft pink that ties at the waist and grazes the tops of her sandaled feet. She’s styled her long hair down today, the ends curling several inches below her shoulders. I note the tiny trail of freckles along her cheekbones and the way she radiates sunshine when she smiles at me.

“Hey,” she says, her eyes twinkling bright, “I was hoping you weren’t going to make me sit alone up here.”

“I didn’t realize you would be here,” I answer honestly.

“Your sister invited me. That’s okay with you, right?”

I catch Gabby’s mischievous grin as she trails Tyler backstage. I can’t interpret everything she signs, but the gist of it is clear enough. She texted Sophie last night. Probably hijacked my phone in my sleep to do it, too.

You’re welcome, she signs just as she disappears behind the stage curtain.

I clear my throat and focus once again on Sophie. “Of course it’s fine. Do you ... enjoy sitting this close to a stage?”

“I don’t mind it,” she says, taking her seat and prompting me to do the same. “Your sister was the one who saved them for us.”

Naturally. Only Gabby would choose to sit in the second row of a church that seats more than a couple thousand. Next time I negotiate a deal with her, I’ll need to be much clearer on the terms I’m agreeing to.

Sophie’s leg starts to bounce beside mine as she cranes her neck to look around. “This is not at all what I expected when your sister invited me to herchurch.” She laughs. “I’ve performed in theaters a quarter of this size.”

“What were you expecting?” I ask, grateful for such a beautiful distraction in a place where I definitely need distracting.

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