Cover

The cart just barely had enough clearance on either side for her to stand and shelve the books. Cheryl Paxton pushed it carefully to where she needed to be, her neck slightly craned to keep an eye on the one odd wheel that kept trying to angle her to the left. She stopped, kicked the brake into place and slipped between the cart and the shelf. She took as many books as she could comfortably hold against her side with one arm and made sure they were in alphabetical order.

She had shelved half the top row of the cart when someone politely tapped her on the shoulder. Cheryl half-turned, the regular "eager-to-please" smile already in place before she recognized her guest. Her lips pulled into a genuine smile and she said, Kelly! What are you doing here?

I finished up early and they let me take the rest of the day off. Can we talk?

Cheryl looked at her watch, then at the books on the cart.

Never mind, Kelly said. When can you get away for lunch?

Fifteen minutes, Cheryl said. I can take a half-hour.

That's fine. I'll meet you outside.

Cheryl nodded and watched as Kelly disappeared down another aisle. She and Kelly Yost had been partners for almost three years. Kelly worked on the mainland, so their lunches together were rare treats. She shelved the rest of the books as quickly as she could, returned the cart to the check-out counter, and told her boss she was going to take lunch. She pulled on her blazer, despite the fact that it wasn't terribly cold outside, and pushed through the glass doors into the lobby.

Three concrete steps led straight down, but Cheryl moved to the left and followed the sloped wheelchair ramp. She let her hand trail along the dark green railing and stopped at the edge of the building. A small man-made pond was hidden behind the library, a lovely gem set into the rolling green hillside. Benches ringed the edge of the water, one every ten feet or so, and Kelly had claimed the nearest one for their lunch. Her back was to the library, so Cheryl took the opportunity to watch her for a moment.

Kelly was a slender blonde, athletic in high school and still dedicated to keeping in shape. Today, she wore baggy blue jeans with bleach stains and a plain white T-shirt underneath an open Oxford shirt. Her hair was done up in a sloppy ponytail, a few strands clinging to the collar of her shirt as she turned and set out their lunch.

Cheryl finally pushed away from the building and rounded the edge of the bench. Kelly looked up and smiled. Cheryl paused; the smile was normal, but there was something else behind it. She sat carefully, bracing herself for the bad news she assumed was coming.

Hi, Kelly said. She nodded at the food. Turkey or ham and Swiss?

Turkey, thank you, Cheryl said. She had just started to ask about chips when Kelly brought the tube out of the pack. You know me too well. She wrapped her fingers around the tube and used it to pull Kelly to her. They kissed and Cheryl smiled against Kelly's lips. I missed you.

I missed you, too, Kelly said. She fiddled with the edge of her sandwich bag and said, Cheryl, there's something I need to talk with you about. Cheryl was looking down to open her sandwich bag. She pulled out a triangle-shaped wedge and checked to see if there was mayo on it. Kelly put a hand on Cheryl's shoulder to draw her attention. I need to talk to you about something, she said again.

Anything.

Kelly shifted on the bench so that she was facing Cheryl. She left her sandwich bag in her lap and took a moment to think about her words before she said, I've been thinking a lot about us.

You want to break up, Cheryl said.

Kelly hesitated and looked out at the pond. I met someone.

Cheryl waited for the other shoe to drop.

She's Hearing.

Cheryl closed her eyes and scratched the bridge of her nose. Kelly put a hand on her shoulder to try to get her attention, but Cheryl ignored her. Finally, she opened her eyes and took a breath. Have you been out with her?

We had dinner. Just dinner. I told her I was in a relationship . . .

Cheryl held up a hand to stop her. She folded her Ziploc bag over her sandwich and tucked it into the pocket of her coat. Thank you for lunch, she said, hoping her hands weren't shaking.

Kelly said, Cheryl, wait. Cheryl refused to look at her, so she spoke. "Cheryl! Don't go. Please!"

Cheryl wasn't completely deaf; she could vaguely hear, in her right ear, the hum of Kelly's voice behind her. She ignored it. She climbed the gentle slope to the parking lot and passed a garbage can. She spun around and fished Kelly's sandwich out of her pocket. She could see Kelly in her periphery, watching her from the bench as she hurled the bag into the trash. Then she turned around again, stormed up the handicapped ramp and went back into the library.

The other librarian, a septuagenarian named Amelia Judah, looked up. How was lunch? she signed, the words coming slowly in her arthritic hands.

Shitty, Cheryl said, snapping her hands as she breezed past the check-out counter. She grabbed the cart that was again half-filled with checked-in books, pushed it away from the desk and went back to work. Anything to keep her mind off Kelly Yost.

That night, Cheryl drove home mentally cursing Kelly the entire way. She kept her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the task of driving. She worked her jaw back and forth, tapped her thumb against the hard rubber of the wheel and her knee jogging up and down as she impatiently waited at stop signs for other drivers. She pulled into her apartment block, took her bag from the backseat and went upstairs to her apartment.

She locked the door behind her, left the lights off and finally slumped to the floor next to the kitchen counter. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, took a deep shuddering breath and began to cry.

She had met Kelly three years ago. Kelly had been a regular at the library, always asking for recommendations. Cheryl had been surprised to see how well she could sign, and Kelly revealed that she had been trained in sign for her social work. Their relationship had grown steadily until Kelly admitted she hadn't read half the books that Cheryl recommended to her. That had just been an excuse to talk to her.

Their relationship had seemed solid, but there had been evidence it wouldn't last. They would be in the middle of a conversation when Kelly would suddenly turn around and start doing something else, and times when arguments had come to a complete stop because Kelly's "hands were tired." She had been a lazy signer, a selfish lover . . . but they had good times together. They had loved each other. And now it was over.

Cheryl wiped her eyes, determined not to cry a single tear more than necessary for Kelly Yost. A three-year relationship required tears, but she refused to let herself be depressed by Kelly leaving.

She pulled herself up and went into the kitchen to make herself something for dinner. Something light. Her lunch had been a few bites of Kelly's sandwich, but she still wasn't very hungry. She found the remains of a salad in the fridge, sniffed it to make sure the dressing hadn't gone bad, and decided to risk it. She carried the tray into the living room, sat down on the couch in the light of a single lamp, and ate while staring at the wall.

So Kelly was gone. It wasn't the end of the world. In fact, if she made a list of the ten worst things that could have happened that day, Kelly breaking up with her wasn't even in the top five. She kicked off her shoes, curled her feet underneath her and settled back against the cushions. "Good riddance," she said aloud, making the sign for "go" with her hands. She speared a baby tomato and popped it into her mouth.

Amelia's eyes brightened as Cheryl opened the Styrofoam container and presented it like a game-show model. "Oh! What is this?"

Cheryl put the slice of chocolate cake down on the desk and said, I'm sorry I was such a bitch yesterday. Forgive me?

"Oh, dear," Amelia said. She hugged Cheryl and stepped back so she could read her lips. "Did you have a fight with Kelly?"

Cheryl pushed her hand into her hair and ruffled it a few times. She sighed, shrugged, and said, We broke up. She met someone else.

"Oh, no!" Amelia said. She put her hand over her heart and said, "Are you okay?"

Fine! Fine. But I wanted to apologize to you for being such a brat. So . . . cake.

"Is it from Coffee Table Books?"

Cheryl scoffed as if it was a stupid question.

"Of course, of course." She picked up the plastic fork and cut off the front corner. She took a bite, moaned, and shook her head. "I really doubt this can be fat-free and still taste this good, but I don't want to know."

Cheryl laughed and said, Enjoy it. I'll take care of the check-outs.

"Bless you, dear."

Cheryl went out to the check-out counter. There was a row of books waiting to be checked-in, so she fished them out of the bin and started scanning them. She was halfway through the stack when a teenager approached the counter. "Good morning," Cheryl said. She held out her hand, took the books from the customer and said, "Do you have your library card?"

The kid handed it over, Cheryl scanned it and saw his name appear on the screen. She scanned his books and a due-date receipt snaked out of the machine. She tore it off and handed it to him with his card. "They will be due back on the fifteenth. Thank you!"

The next customer in line stepped up and Cheryl froze when she saw that it was Kelly. Her face went hard and she said, What are you doing here?

"Cheryl, I don't want this to be a fight. Can we please talk?"

No. If you don't have a book to check out, please . . . She moved down the counter and smiled at the next person to be checked out. Kelly followed her and Cheryl made a point to ignore her as she went through the ritual.

Kelly waited until the stranger was gone and said, I didn't mean to hurt you.

Then breaking up with me is a very strange thing to do, Cheryl said.

Kelly put her head down on the counter. When she looked up, Cheryl had walked out into the main part of the library. Kelly hurried after her. "Wait," she said, even though she knew Cheryl wouldn't hear her. She put her hand on Cheryl's shoulder and spun her around. "Do you think I wanted to do this to you? Do you think I planned to fall for someone else?"

What you planned doesn't matter. I'm happy for you. Really, I am. I wish you all the happiness in the world. But I don't want to justify it. I don't want to be the bigger person. I just want to hate you for a little while. Okay?

Kelly deflated a bit, but finally nodded. Will you give me a call when you're ready to talk?

Cheryl leaned against the new releases shelf and stared at Dean Koontz's smiling face on the back of a book. She slowly signed, We'll see.

All I'm asking is for you to think about it.

I know. I need to think about it. You dropped a bombshell on me and I need time to recover.

I understand. Okay. I'll leave you alone.

Cheryl nodded and watched Kelly back away. She finally turned around and pushed through the glass lobby doors. Amelia was standing at the office door, the empty Styrofoam container in her hands. She dumped it and the fork in the trash and said, Are you okay?

I will be, Cheryl promised.

Cheryl turned on the computer and, as she waited for it to boot up, went to the bedroom and changed into her pajamas. She sat down at the keyboard and tucked her bare feet under the desk. A vent was hidden there, and warmed her feet as she opened the instant-messaging system. The little icons on the side revealed Kelly was online, so she began typing.

"Kelly. It's me."

"Who is me?"

Cheryl frowned. Her online name was CPaxton. Hard to get confused about that.

"What do you mean? It's Cheryl."

"Oh! I'm not Kelly. I'm using her computer. Let me go get her."

Cheryl bristled and lifted her fingers from the keyboard. A few seconds later, another message appeared.

"Cheryl?" And then a minute later, "Cheryl, are you still there?"

She signed off, closed the message window and shut down her computer. She had tried. But it was almost eleven. For the new girlfriend to be using Kelly's computer, she would have to be pretty comfortable. Comfortable enough that she was probably spending the night. She crawled under the covers even though it was an hour before her usual bedtime, pulled one of the pillows over her head and tried to shut out all the light of the world.

Cheryl sat on a small stool in the children's section of her library. Her knees were tight against her chest and her back was stooped forward as she tried to stay eye-level with the kids. To her right, Heather Grady held up a picture book so the kids could see the pictures. She was reading a book Cheryl had memorized in her first weeks volunteering with the reading group, so she signed without needing to see the page.

Heather was a petite redhead in bleach-stained overalls and a blue gingham shirt. Her hair was done in pigtails and she had marked six freckles on her face with a red pen. Everyone at the library called her "Wendy" after the iconic restaurant chain, but her character's name was Deb O'Nair. She turned the page and Cheryl glanced to make sure she was at the right part of the story.

Davey put his backpack on the floor and he filled it up with all kinds of goodies. Apples . . . oranges . . . he even put in a couple of his favorite toys, just in case. He knew he would have to take a lot of stuff. Running away was not easy, so he was prepared for the absolute worst.

Two children, a boy and a girl, in the back of the room were moving their heads slightly back and forth. They would look at the pictures in the book, then watch Cheryl's signs so they could keep up with the story. She tried to keep her signing slow enough that they wouldn't miss anything when they were looking at the drawings.

When they finished the story--and Davey was safely back at home with his parents--the parents came forward with coats and hats. A few kids thanked Heather for the story as they were ushered out. Heather closed the book and returned it to the shelf as Cheryl started rounding up the chairs the kids had been sitting in. When she looked up, she saw that Heather was speaking. She waved her hands to get the other woman's attention and then pointed at her ears.

Heather closed her eyes and touched her forehead. "God, I'm sorry," she said.

Cheryl made an "it's all right" gesture with her hands.

"I was saying that it's really great having you sign. I've always felt bad that Micah and Lisa couldn't join in on story time."

"It's my pleasure," Cheryl said. She hated her voice, knew it had to sound awful since she had been deaf for her entire life. She used it sparingly, but sometimes there was no alternative. "I'm happy to do it. I love kids."

"Oh, I do, too!" Heather said. "Making the time to come down here is tough, and I'm dog tired at the end of a reading-group day, but it's worth it to see them smile or he--" She nearly tripped over the word and covered by coughing into her hand.

"Hear them laugh?" Cheryl supplied with an understanding smile. "It's okay. You don't have to . . . " She made the sign and then said, " . . . tiptoe around me."

"Sorry. I'm always putting my foot in something or, you know . . . " She pushed her hair out of her face and said, "I need to change into street clothes. Deb O'Nair would never be caught being this flatfooted."

Cheryl laughed and said, "I'll never tell anyone your secret."

"I appreciate it." She glanced in the mirror next to the doorway and licked her thumb. She started to scrub at her cheek and said, "Damn."

Cheryl saw her lips move in the reflection. "What's wrong?"

Heather shook her head. "Nothing. It always takes forever to take these freckles off, and I have to be home in half an hour. I hate driving in this make-up."

"One minute," Cheryl said. She hurried to the counter, took out the bag of baby wipes and brought them back to the kid's section. Heather turned to her and Cheryl gently scrubbed at the red spots.

"I appreciate this."

Cheryl shook her head and waved it off. "I would hate for Prince Charming to see you and not ask you out because of some silly spots."

Heather laughed. "Well, you don't have to worry about that too much."

"Oh, you're married?"

"No," Heather said. "I'm . . . not really looking for a relationship right now. Happy being single."

Cheryl looked dubiously at her and said, "So it gets better?"

"Better?"

"I broke up with my partner last week."

Heather said, "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry."

Cheryl waved her off. It was still painful, but what she missed most was the intimacy. The closeness they had shared. Sitting on the couch together, reading or doing a crossword puzzle. She missed that like a physical ache. She finished with the make-up and made a "ta-da" gesture with her hands.

"Thank you. You saved me a bit of embarrassment."

Cheryl waved her off. "Happy to help."

They walked to the front door together. Cheryl looked at the check-out counter and saw Amelia sign, New blood?

Oh, shut up, Cheryl signed back.

Heather was holding the door open for her. "What was that?"

Cheryl shook her head and mouthed, "Nothing."

Heather hooked her bag over her shoulder and pulled her pigtails free. Her hair hung down to her shoulders in gentle waves. She leaned against the railing and said, "So. Partner, huh?"

Cheryl nodded.

"So if I told you that I wasn't interested in Prince Charming . . . you wouldn't turn me in to the library board?"

Cheryl shook her head, not understanding.

"I'm looking for Miss Right," Heather said. "I didn't say anything because . . . well . . . people get kind of uptight about that sort of thing when their kids are involved."

"Ah. Too true."

Heather shuffled her feet on the ramp and said, "So, I guess I wouldn't be too far out of line if I were to ask you for a date? It's not too soon after your break-up, is it? I mean, I would understand if . . . "

Cheryl waved her hands and interrupted, "I would love to."

"Really?" Heather said.

"I'm sick of eating by myself, in my apartment, and I don't like going to restaurants alone."

Heather smiled. "Well, I'm happy to be your plus-one until you decide you like my company."

Cheryl nodded. "Great. I'll call you."

"Do you have my number?"

Cheryl opened her mouth to reply and Heather put a hand to her forehead. "God. Stupid me. Um . . . "

"Amelia interprets for me. She'll call you."

Heather exhaled. "Sorry. Thank you, yes, I'll do that. So, do you have my number?"

Cheryl gestured at the library door. "I have everyone's number."

Heather grinned, and the skin around her eyes wrinkled. "I think that came out more ominous than you anticipated."

"Maybe, maybe not," Cheryl said. She bit her bottom lip and watched Heather walk to her car. She turned and went back into the library with a bit of a spring in her step.

Two weeks later, the kids gathered in the children's section for another reading group. Heather, in full Deb O'Nair gear, settled on the bench and said, "Hi, kids! How is everyone today?"

The kids replied in typical child fashion, screaming that they were "GOOD!" Heather pretended to be blown back by the force of their reply. She wiped her hand across her forehead and said, "Whew, I guess you guys are doing okay, then, huh? I am Deb O'Nair, and today we are reading a book called . . . " She flipped up the book on her lap and read the title with an ominous voice, "The Monster at the End of This Book. Ooo. By Jon Stone, illustrated by Mike Smollin. Joining me as always . . . well, you may have known her as Miss Paxton the librarian, but that's not her real identity."

Cheryl kept signing, but raised her eyebrow at Heather.

Heather grinned evilly. "Oh, no. This is Deb O'Nair's super special best friend . . . Patty Coates!"

Cheryl gaped and feigned a punch at Heather's arm. Heather stuck her tongue out between her teeth and said, "Okay, kids, are you ready to read about the Monster with Grover?"

"Yeeeeees!"

"Okay, then! Let's get started." She opened the book and began to read aloud while Cheryl signed along. Cheryl watched Heather's lips and occasionally let her attention drift down to her hands. Occasionally when Heather had one hand free, she would unconsciously sign the word she was saying. When she finished the book and said good-bye to the kids, Cheryl said, You're doing very well. Heather frowned. With your signing.

Heather looked down at her hands in surprise. She was trying to learn sign, through online tutorials and a video Cheryl had loaned her. I didn't even notice. Did I do it through the whole story?

Just now and again. She took Heather's hand and kissed the knuckles. It's okay, though. I think it's cute.

Heather smiled and said, I had a great teacher.

Cheryl threaded her fingers with Heather's and said, "So, tonight. Feel like dinner?"

"Your choice."

"Gail's," Cheryl said. "I'm in the mood for seafood."

Heather said, "Okay. I'll come by and pick you up after work. It'll give me a chance to change."

Cheryl looked at Heather's blue overalls, her freckles and pigtails. Change? she said. But you look so hot!

Heather laughed. "You be careful or I really will wear this to the restaurant." She leaned in and quickly pecked the corner of Cheryl's mouth. "Six?"

Cheryl nodded. She took the stack of books from Heather and went to work shelving them. She looked up in time to see Heather disappear through the front doors of the library. She smiled and slid another book into place.

That night, Cheryl led Heather up the stairs to her apartment. Heather unlocked her door, reached in to turn on the outside light and then closed the door again. She smiled at Cheryl. "I had a good time."

"I did, too." Cheryl signed as she spoke, as Heather had requested. She was still getting the hang of carrying out an entire conversation in sign.

Heather asked, Same time Thursday?

I have to work Thursday, Cheryl signed slowly. How about Friday?

"Friday is fine," Heather said. She smiled and said, "How am I doing?"

Very well, Cheryl said truthfully.

May I ask you something personal?

Of course.

Heather hesitated. Is it going to be a problem? That I'm Hearing?

Why would it?

She shrugged and said, "I don't know. I just keep getting worried that you'll meet someone else that it's easier to be with."

You mean a deaf woman? Heather shrugged and looked at her feet. Cheryl reached out and touched her chin, lifting it until they were looking into each other's eyes. "I've been with deaf women, I've been with Hearing women. All that matters are their mouths."

"Their mouths?"

Cheryl smiled and stepped closer. She moved her hand from Heather's chin to her cheek as she leaned in to kiss her. Heather parted her lips just as Cheryl leaned in to kiss them. Their tongues met and Cheryl moved her hand to the collar of Heather's shirt. She balled her hand in the material and pulled Heather closer, gently urging her tongue forward. She felt the vibrations as Heather moaned and slipped her hand around her waist. She hooked her thumb in the belt loop and pulled back, nuzzling her lips against Heather's cheek.

She said, "Yes. Their mouths."

"Oh," Heather said with a smile. "And I have a good one?"

"One of the best."

Heather kissed Cheryl's cheek and stepped back. You should go while you still can.

Okay. Thank you for dinner.

It was my . . . She hesitated. "Pleasure."

Cheryl showed her the sign, and Heather repeated it. Thank you.

You're showing progress.

I have a good incentive.

Cheryl threaded her fingers around Heather's and whispered, "One of these nights, I think I will show you a few private signs."

"Oh, really?" Heather said. She leaned in and bumped her nose against Cheryl's.

"Yes. A whole library."

Promises, promises, Heather said.

They stepped toward each other once again and kissed. Heather ran her hands up into Cheryl's hair and pulled her head back. Cheryl moaned and kissed the inside of Heather's wrist. "I should go," she mouthed against the warm skin.

Then go, Heather said with a smile. She released Cheryl's waist and stepped back. I'll be online tomorrow. Usual time?

Definitely.

Bye, Cheryl.

Good-bye, Heather.

Cheryl walked down the stairs and looked back as she unlocked her car with the remote. Heather was leaning against the apartment door, watching her. Cheryl waved good-bye and got into the car. She flashed her headlights, backed out of the spot and drove to the edge of the parking lot. In the rearview mirror, she saw that Heather had finally gone inside. She smiled and pulled out into traffic.

Heather's signing wasn't the only thing showing progress. Their relationship, Cheryl's life . . . everything seemed to be right on track for once. She braked at a stop sign and tightened her hands on the steering wheel. She had thought breaking up with Kelly was the end of the world. A beautiful, loving woman who was fluent with sign language and also happened to be a lesbian? What were the odds of finding someone like that on a tiny island like this? She had felt Kelly was her one shot at love.

Now, Heather had opened her eyes. Had shown her that nothing was impossible. She rolled through the intersection with a smile. She owed Heather a lot; she just hoped she would be able to pay it all back. With interest.