Singing Hands Read Free Page A

composed herself again.
    The man touched Mother's shoulder, stopping her before she sat down. "Pardon me," he signed. "I wanted to introduce myself. I was at your husband's service this morning."
    Mother smiled and nodded, making a small, pleasant noise in her throat. Then the man began to speak as he signed. His voice didn't sound nasal or muffled—not at all like a deaf person's voice. "I've heard so much about Reverend Davis and followed his work over the years. Today I finally came to see Saint Jude's for myself and ask for your help."
    Then he looked directly at me and said, "I've sat through many church services in my time, but never one quite like today's.... The musical solo was especially impressive."

Chapter 3
    My humming days were over.
    By the time I heard the back screen door bang shut when Daddy came home that afternoon, the truth about what I had done was out. I didn't move. I had spent the last two hours sprawled across my bumpy chenille bedspread, still in my church clothes, waiting for the fan to blow in my direction and for bits of news from downstairs. Nell had been running up with reports every twenty minutes or so.
    Now she practically skidded into our bedroom in her sock feet. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, still huffing from taking the back steps two at a time.
    "Daddy's home," she announced ominously.
    "I know. I heard the door."
    "Mother hasn't told him yet. They're arguing about Daddy's traveling again."
    I sat up in bed hopefully. "Really?"
    Nell nodded. "Mother says she doesn't care how rich that Mr. Snider from Britling's is or how much money he gives to Saint Jude's. She says Daddy can't possibly add another mission to his list. The church will just have to get somebody else."
    "Good." I flopped back on my pillow. Then I popped up again. "But didn't she mention anything about the new car Mr. Snider offered? If Daddy had a car, he wouldn't have to take the train everywhere."
    Nell frowned down at me. "I left before they got to that."
    I saw her catch a glimpse of her face in the mirror that hung over the dresser between our twin beds. She licked her finger and rubbed at the crease that had appeared between her delicate eyebrows. Then, still gazing at the mirror, she turned her head sideways and fluffed up the light brown curls that swung around her cheeks.
    "Stop primping and go see what else they're saying.... Please?"
    Nell sighed and reluctantly turned from the mirror. "Oh, all right. But you owe me two nights of dish duty for this."
    I snorted impatiently. "Fine."
    After Nell had gone, I scooted to the edge of the bed and plucked my wrinkled blouse away from my damp back, then refastened my barrettes. Maybe Mother would be so upset thinking about Daddy's schedule that she'd forget all about my humming.
    What wife wouldn't be upset? Daddy was home only one full week a month. The rest of the time he was ministering to deaf people in nine states across the South. Gadsden, Alabama ... St. Augustine, Florida ... Meridian, Mississippi ... Morganton, North Carolina ... I couldn't even remember all the towns where my father preached. And whenever he was away, it was Mother who had to run things at Saint Jude's.
    And now Mr. Moneybags Snider in his striped bow tie wanted Daddy to add
another
town to his list: Macon, Georgia, way off near the middle of the state. Mr. Snider was the son of deaf parents, he had told us right in the middle of Britling's. But even though they were deaf, they had raised him well, he said—so well that he now owned a chain of top-of-the-line furniture stores spread across Georgia and Alabama. He wanted to repay his parents by helping to start a church for the deaf in Macon. "Oh, how my dear mother would love to see that deaf choir signing 'Nearer, My God, to Thee'!" Mr. Snider had exclaimed with tears spilling down his cheeks.
    I stepped in front of the mirror and tried to puff my dark hair around my face like Nell's, but it fell in lank clumps