Page 59 of The Voice We Find

“Well, you should be.” She tucks her legs and leans toward me. “Because the buddy system can be used anywhere, in nearly any situation.” Her confidence is captivating. “Let’s take the greenhouse scenario, for example. One buddy would climb onto the damaged roof while wearing a rope that’s attached to the other buddy, who will remain on the ground. Like a safety net of sorts. They’d simply stay connected until the job is done.”

“Ah, I see.” It’s an effort to dull the amusement in my voice. “And in this case, the buddy on the ground would be...”

“Me.” She flattens a hand to her chest.

“And if I was sliding down the corrugated roof—”

“You mean hypothetically?” she teases.

“Yes, if I was hypothetically sliding off the roof, then your plan down below would be to...?”

This stumps her for a second, and I can tell she’s spotting the holes in her logic. “I’d hold on to the rope.”

“And do what with it? Lasso me to the tallest tree before I hit the ground?”

When she breaks into a full-bellied laugh, I listen as the tempting sound of her voice swirls and harmonizes with the rumble of the tide. It feels every bit like the start of a symphony. And for the first time in so long, I allow myself to compose it in my mind, adding in the percussion, and the high notes of a flute, and the low resonance of a cello—

At her light touch on my arm, the growing orchestra in my head fades.

“Where did you go, August?”

I blink and try to form a coherent response. “Nowhere. I’m here, with you.”

To my relief, her expression gentles. “Then can I ask you something I’ve been wondering about?”

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you attend the ASL classes on Tuesday nights?”

I probably should have anticipated this question. It’s only right she’d be curious, but my answer isn’t quick or uncomplicated. “What do you say we clean up and resume this conversation on the beach?”

“Yes, please.” I help her to her feet as she says, “Make sure you grab our taffy when you put the blanket away.”

As I give her a salute, I notice the shiver she tries to hide, only I know it will be even windier near the water. Back at the car, I find a navy zip-up in the back seat. I give it a quick sniff test before I toss it over my arm, stash the blanket, and collect her bag of colorful taffy as instructed.

“I thought you could also use this.” I hold out the jacket to her.

“Ah, thank you.” She wastes no time putting it on and zipping it up to her throat. As distracting as she is in a dress, the sight of her in my sweatshirt is a different kind of distraction. “I’d planned to grab something warm before we left, but...” She trails off. “I ran out of time.”

We leave our shoes at the bottom of the trail and exchange a few pleasantries about the stunning rock formations close to the shore and then about the backdrop of a golden horizon. And then it’s time for me to answer Sophie’s questions about my relationship with ASL and the deaf community.

“It’s not ASL I have an issue with,” I say, watching the moving shadow of the taffy bag in my right hand along the sand. “I think it’s an incredible resource with incredible benefits for those who need it—both inside and outside the hard-of-hearing world.”

“Okay,” she says patiently. “So what is it, then?”

I pause, as there are few times I’ve spoken this out loud, and even fewer people I’ve trusted enough to speak it to. I’m either shamed for my viewpoint or misunderstood. Both are equally unmotivating when it comes to opening a future dialogue.

“I don’t want Gabby to stop hoping for a cure.”

I’m not sure what Sophie was expecting me to say, but her sudden stillness catches me off guard. “A cure for her deafness? I didn’t think...” She hesitates for a moment. “I didn’t realize that was even a possibility.”

“Most medical professionals would say it’s not.” I think of the many doctors we’ve seen, of the scans, tests, reports, trials, ear molds, therapies, and medical opinions we’ve pursued. I think of the long days following the accident, of waiting for news on Gabby’s condition, realizing that nothing about our lives would ever be the same again. “But because the type of head trauma Gabby endured isn’t textbook, it makes her case unique. There aren’t many options left to pursue, but there’s one that has the potential to restore the limited hearing that remains in her left ear.”

“Really? That’s sounds ... incredible.” Sophie’s footsteps in the sand slow, and she twists her face to the amber horizon. The golden hue washes over her skin, glittering in her eyes, and rendering me momentarily speechless. “What does your sister think about all that?”

I hesitate. “She doesn’t know. Not yet, anyway. I don’t want to get her hopes up until I can secure the appointment with the surgeon. She’s had too many ups and downs and false hopes to contend with. I won’t do that to her again, not until everything has been cleared.”

Her brows pull together. “What’s involved in setting the appointment?”

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