“I’m surprised you stayed this long.” She didn’t sign the words. Loyal would likely follow along, but at least he couldn’t hear the way her words twisted between them. She wished she could tell Creed that he broke her heart every time he came home and left again. If he’d left all at once and stayed gone, maybe it would be different. Instead, he’d drifted away from them in bits and pieces. Still was. Although each time he came home, some foolish part of her dared to hope he would stay.
Delphy suspected he blamed himself for taking Loyal on that fateful trip that ended in a fever, an ear infection, and . . . she looked at her son. A wave of fierce protectiveness washed over her, and she realized that maybe she blamed Creed, too. For the first time she considered that maybe she’d played a role in Creed’s slow abdication of his family.
“Maybe . . .” Creed sat and spooned some peas onto his plate. Something took flight in Delphy’s heart. As if his maybe were echoing her own and they might finally talk about what stood between them. “Maybe I should take Loyal up on the mountain with me this time.”
Her heart turned to stone. “Absolutely not,” she said as she pushed her plate away.
Creed broke open a piece of bread and buttered it. “Might be good for both of us.” He ducked his head, then looked up again. “I didn’t realize we could . . . communicate. I’d like to try more of that.” He turned toward Loyal. “You want to come up on the mountain with me?”
She didn’t mean to do it. Didn’t know she was going to until her plate of stew crashed to the floor, spattering bits of food and making Loyal jump. While he couldn’t hear the crash, she knew he could feel the reverberation.
“Come with me,” she said to Creed and marched him out the back door into the yard. She could feel her cheeks heating and knew tears stood in her eyes. Loyal did not need to witness what she would say next.
When Delphy returned to the kitchen, she saw that Loyal had cleaned up her mess. He was such a good boy. For a split second she wondered if she should let him go with his father. Boys needed their fathers, didn’t they? But no. The last time the two of them went somewhere alone, it changed all of their lives. And while she knew this was different, her mother’s heart couldn’t bear the notion that something even worse might happen up on the mountain where help was simply too far away.
She forced a smile and began to sign. I’m sorry I got angry. Your father doesn’t realize what he’s asking. You . . . She paused and looked toward the ceiling. You’re special, not like he was at your age. He doesn’t understand what you need.
Loyal clenched his hands and shook his head. Where’s Father? he signed.
She gritted her teeth and signed, her movements sharp. Gone to his mountain.
Loyal stomped his foot. I’ll go, too.
No. She made the sign twice. Not safe.
I don’t care. Now Loyal’s motions were choppy, uneven. You don’t understand. I want to go. I will go.
Delphy gave her head a shake. We can talk later, she signed. When we’re calm.
Loyal formed both hands into claws facing his chest and flung them up and out. He stamped one foot, turned, and ran out of the house. Delphy ran after him but stopped when she saw he’d gone only as far as the cedar tree, where he kicked at the trunk, grunting and screeching before leaning against the far side, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Frustration filled the air, and she longed to go to him, to soothe him, but knew she couldn’t comfort him right now.
She’d seen him get like this in those early days—when he’d suddenly been thrust into a world of silence. He hadn’t learned to read yet when he lost his hearing. The gap in time between the loss and his learning sign language had been deeply frustrating. For a child used to communicating through words to suddenly be robbed of them meant tantrums were a daily occurrence. She suspected that was when Creed began to leave them behind in his mind. What would he do up there on his mountain if Loyal acted like this?
Biting her lip and fighting tears, she went back inside to finish cleaning up the kitchen. And what if, up there on Creed’s mountain, Loyal no longer felt the need to act like this?
Creed had never been so glad to be by himself in his cabin as he was that evening. He’d eaten some questionable leftovers without even warming them, and now he sat on the front steps sharpening a hoe. He was alone and grateful for it. At least that was what he told himself. Being with Delphy and Loyal for several days had been good—he should probably do that more often—but he needed to keep up with his work on the mountain. And it wouldn’t do to get used to the comforts of home.
He’d really wanted to bring Loyal with him. He could teach the boy some things and maybe he could learn some more of that hand-talk himself. But Delphy had always been overprotective and that hadn’t changed one iota. They’d argued about it plenty when Loyal first lost his hearing. Creed wanted to let the boy fend for himself, to spend time with kids his own age. But Delphy could hardly stand to let the boy out of her sight. It was another reason he’d come up on the mountain. When a man’s wife didn’t trust him alone with his own son, it got hard to stay married. And he’d been raised to stay married.
Of course, Delphy wasn’t the only one who didn’t trust Creed alone with Loyal. If he were honest, it had been a relief when he realized she wouldn’t let him make such a devastating mistake with their son ever again.
He took the sharpened hoe out to the garden and began chopping weeds with a vengeance. He’d go check his ginseng patches in the morning. It was still too soon to harvest, but he could make sure no one else had dug the valuable roots and double-check how many were likely for digging. Lost in thought, he jerked his head up when he heard something foreign to the sounds of the mountain all around him. Might have been a deer or a bear, but he suspected the sound was human. He’d left his rifle in the cabin, and while he doubted he’d need it, his fingers itched to hold something more threatening than a hoe. He continued working but kept his eyes on the leafy trail leading to the cabin. Soon the figure of a man emerged from the poplar and rhododendron.
It was that Earl fella from the sheriff’s office. He was huffing and puffing as he climbed the trail. Creed guessed scouting land for the government must not require the man to walk very far or fast. He leaned on his hoe and watched.
As Earl topped the trail, he rubbed a forearm across his sweaty brow then wiped it on his shirt, leaving a dark smear. He looked up and spotted Creed, his weary eyes brightening. “Man, I’m glad to find you. Wasn’t sure I was on the right trail.” He plodded toward the porch and flopped down. “Got any water?”
Creed propped his hoe against the corner of the porch and fetched a bucket with a dipper. Earl scooped up some water and gulped it down. Then he dumped another dipperful over his head and slung water like a dog. “Man, that feels good. Didn’t realize you were so high up.”
“What brings you all this way?” Creed asked, crossing his arms.
“I was hoping you’d listen to me better than that sheriff down in Beverly. I don’t think he’s taking my partner being killed near as serious as he should.”
“Sheriff’s a friend of mine. Always seemed to me he listened real good.”