Page 20 of Well Aware

“Sure,” I said to her back as she left.

It wouldn’t be a hardship.

Boone and Nettie had created one of the cutest kids in the world.

I did, however, have a soft spot for another little girl.

That little girl popped her head up the moment that I walked into the room.

She was at a table drawing, as she usually was.

There was no loud music or harsh lighting in the room that the team had created to be the nursery.

It’d taken me zero time after meeting Iris to realize that she was special.

I’d known she was special thanks to my own baby brother.

Lysander had been born different.

At first, we’d thought that it was due to his deafness—a condition that he’d inherited from my father.

But after he’d gotten older, it’d come to everyone’s attention that it wasn’t only his deafness that made him special.

After several doctors’ appointments after Lysander had one too many freakouts, it was discovered that he was autistic.

He couldn’t handle crowds or bright lights. He had a hard time relating to people. He was insanely smart and overcame every single thing that was thrown at him from his deafness to his inability to assimilate into society.

Needless to say, Lysander had made it possible for me to spot special people like him.

Iris was one of those special people.

Since there were only three other children that were needing daycare, it wasn’t too much of a hardship to keep things quiet in her space.

Though Iris could talk, she preferred not to.

Most of her communication came by way of sign, and since I knew sign language better than English at times, it was a no-brainer to talk to her when I saw her.

Over the last eight months, we’d become friends.

Magnolia had been cautious over our friendship at first, but once she saw that I could handle Iris’s idiosyncrasies, she’d allowed me to spend time with her child.

Now, Iris was my little shadow a lot of the time.

When she saw me, she hurried toward me.

She didn’t touch me, but she came to stand by my side as she continued to read her book.

She was three, nearly four, going on forty.

Hell, right then she had a chapter book in her hand about the whales that called planet Earth home.

I knew that she was comprehending what she was reading, too.

The teacher, who was more than used to me borrowing Iris throughout the day, smiled at me.

“I’m here to take Margie out to Boone,” I said. “Iris, do you want to come with me?”

Iris answered by way of going to stand by the door.