Chapter 93
Jessica forced a faint smile.
No matter how tactfully Sallie put it, the message was always the same–Jessica’s muteness was a disappointment.}
She should try harder.
But Jessica had been trying, day after day, to prove herself worthy of Timothy. She’d done everything she could think of. If only the Lawsons could show her a little more respect, maybe Henry wouldn’t have grown so distant, so ashamed of having a mother who couldn’t speak.
But what could she do? She was voiceless, powerless.
That’s why she was so willing to support Carlisle and the others–they worked so hard to prove that even without a voice, they could live, work, and create just like anyone else.
Sallie, meanwhile, felt she’d done all she could for Jessica. She’d given her advice, offered reminders, and now, if Jessica couldn’t appreciate it, she’d just have to deal with the consequences herself. As for Sheila, Sallie was sure their grandfather would step in.
With that, Sallie left.
Jessica made her way to Henry’s hospital room.
He’d had surgery just before dawn; now that the anesthesia had worn off, he probably still hurt. Even in his sleep, his small face was scrunched up in pain. She didn’t want to blame him. But it stung, deeply, that he clung to Sheila and seemed embarrassed by his own mother. Every time he pushed her away, it cut her to the bone.
Jessica had slept through most of the day, so she wasn’t tired that night. She kept watch at Henry’s bedside, quietly waiting for him to wake. Morning came.
When Henry finally opened his eyes, he saw Jessica dozing beside his bed, her head resting on her arms. Something tugged at his heart.
He remembered being sick as a little boy, opening his eyes to see his mother slumped in the same spot, trying to stay awake all night for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her. But she couldn’t speak.
His classmates all envied him–his dad was the wealthiest man in Riverside City, and naturally, everyone assumed his mom must be extraordinary, too.
He just didn’t want them to find out that his mom was mute.
“Mom…” he whispered.
Jessica’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice.
“Did you stay here all night?” Henry asked quietly.
Jessica nodded.
She quickly pulled out her phone and typed into a text–to–speech app: “Henry, are you hungry? Do you want me to get you some breakfast?”
A gentle woman’s voice echoed from the phone, and Henry noticed the ring on Jessica’s finger–the one his dad had given her. He understood immediately.
The synthetic voice was pleasant enough, but it was still artificial, a reminder that his mother would never speak to him in her own voice.
To Henry, it all felt so pointless, even childish. He rolled his eyes. “You can just use sign language, Mom. I know how to read it. Dad gave you that talking ring so you can communicate with strangers, not with me. You don’t have to use it here.”
A dull ache throbbed in Jessica’s chest.
www.w
T
But she just smiled, put away her phone, and began signing: “I’ll go get you something to eat. You just lie still, okay? You just had surgery, and you don’t want to hurt yourself. Understand?”
“Yeah, I know.“A
When Henry was younger, his immune system was weak, and he spent a lot of time in hospitals. Jessica knew the food here wasn’t great, so she left to find him a
decent breakfast.
When she returned,
She set the food down, fetched some water, and helped Henry wash up.
Then she sat by his bed and fed him, bite by bite.
When Henry finished eating, Jessica gently wiped his lips with a napkin.
Just then, the nurse came in to give Henry his shot.
It was the same nurse from last time, when Henry had a fever–one of his classmate’s mothers.
As she readied the injection, she smiled at Henry. “And who is this lovely lady? She’s been taking such good care of you.”
Instinctively, Jessica signed, “I’m Henry’s mom.”
The color drained from Henry’s face
