Page 109 of The Voice We Find

I shook my head, confused.

“My rescuer. Did he come back?”

I released an exhausted breath and shook my head. “Less is more,” the doctors had told me. “Do everything you can to keep her from getting agitated.” I supposed that meant keeping up this ruse about some mystery American with shiny black hair and crystal blue eyes who carried her from danger and secured help to get her on a helicopter.

She studied my face and tipped her head to the side. Could she read it in my eyes? Did she know what I was hiding?

“They’re with Jesus, August,” Gabby said without prompt. I was so shocked I barely reacted as she gripped my hand, despite the IV tapped into her vein. “The man told me.” Her voice is raspy and holds an odd inflection. Perhaps her ears are still stuffed up;the surgeon warned that some of the side effects ofher head trauma would last a few weeks. “I know we’ll see them again,” she encouraged as her tears fell. “That’s our hope. The man said—”

“There was no man,” I replied quietly, though I wanted to rage. This person she created was a figment of her imagination, something she dreamed during her concussion and drug-induced coma. The doctors assured me that there had to be a logical explanation for why she was found so late into the rescue mission and then provided exactly what she needed. I chose to believe them. I needed to believe them.

She tapped on my arm, her brow creased. “I can’t hear you, August.”

I met her gaze with a crushing weariness and shook my head in answer to her earlier question in order to keep the peace. Beyond that,I didn’t know what to do or how to help her. How could I when I didn’t even know how to help myself?

Gabby wasn’t deterred by my silence. “He told me you’d be here when I woke up.”

I pressed my forehead to the mattress; my head throbbed. I’d barely slept since I got the call ... was that four days ago? Five? I didn’t know anymore. How would I take care of her, provide for her? How would I give her anything close to what Mom and Dad had given her? My tears pooled onto the white hospital sheet at her hip, and I felt the weight of her hand on my head.

She yawned. “He told me not to be afraid.” She yawned again. “He said something else, too. A verse, maybe? Something familiar that Mom prays for you often.”

Even in my sleep-deprived state, I knew I couldn’t handle one more thing. So I shut it off. The train. The questions. The pain. The unknowns. The anger. All I knew for sure in that moment was that ourparents were dead, and nothing about our lives would ever be the same.

Hot shame fills my core like acid as I realize just how right Gabby had been the night she accused me of never listening to her. I’d heard her, but I hadn’t listened. Moreover, I hadn’t believed her. Because believing her story would mean having to reconcile the worst part of mine.

Sophie’s spotlight flicks off, and Gabby begins to speak into her wireless mic and sign for herself on stage.

“Our questions about the kind American man with the shiny black hair and ocean-blue eyes remain unanswered. There was no record of him on that train or with the medical personnel who assisted me and the other passengers involved in our tragedy. But I do have hope I will meet him again one day when I’m reunited with my parents.” She takes a moment before slowly sweeping her gaze over the crowd. “I don’t know why God allowed me to live when I should have died. And I don’t know why He allowed me to hear the words of my anonymous rescuer when my hearing was lost during the accident. But I do know why He encouragedme topray for the same miracle my parents died believing would come to pass.”

I struggle to breathe as her gaze holds mine. The weight of my shame is nearly unbearable.

“Miracles come in many forms, and mine came in the form of a rescue I didn’t deserve, and in a hope I never could have emulated before the accident. Hope covered me on the days I could hear with my ears, and it will cover me in the future when I can only hear with my heart.” She places a hand to her chest. “The Scripture my rescuer partially quoted to me is from Romans, and I’d like to share it with you in closing.” Gabby takes a deep breath and recites the verse from memory. “‘And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.’” She curtsies. “Thank you.”

People jump to their feet, erupting in cheers and raised hands. But I am still frozen to my seat when Portia and Nick dismiss the audience to the lobby to meet the cast and enjoy refreshments.

“‘Miracles come in many forms. ...’ What a treasure your sister is, August,” Bonnie says as she steadies herself with a hand on my shoulder. “A beautiful reminder for a crotchety old soul like myself.” She bends and stares me down. “You come find me at church on Sunday, you hear me? I’ll be keeping an eye out.”

I drag my gaze up to hers as she winks good-bye and exits the aisle at the same pace she came down it. My aunt approaches shortly after, touching my shoulder with the maternal compassion I’ve rejected out of my own self-loathing many times.

“Your parents loved you fiercely, August. They never stopped. I hope you can believe that.” Tears clog my throat when she wraps her arms around my shoulders and plants a kiss on my head before continuing on to the lobby.

It’s then I see Gabby make her way out from backstage. Her steps are tentative, but her eyes are searching.

Before I can process what I’m doing, I’m up from my seat andsprinting toward her, throwing my arms wide and wrapping her in an embrace so tight that it’s not until I lower her to the ground that I realize how fiercely she was hugging me back.

I’m sorry,I say in ASL as soon as she’s facing me. “I don’t know how to sign everything else I need to say, but I promise you...” I choke up on the words. “I’m going to learn.”

My sister’s chin quivers. “I’m sorry, too, August.” She looks behind her as cast members meander toward the lobby. “Will you wait for me to pack up my things? I’d like to go home.”

“Of course.” But of the dozens of half-processed thoughts circling in my brain, there is one that’s complete. So before she turns for the stage, I say it. “I think it’s time we open the box.”

28

Sophie

Every endorphin I possess has been released sometime in the last hour, and it’s all I can do to rein them back in and try to process even a single moment of it. There was no panic when I took that stage with Gabby tonight, no fear or worry or doubt. It was the same addicting thrill of theater I’ve always known. And yet ... it was also something else entirely. Something I didn’t even know existed before tonight.

And in the midst of it all, there was August.

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