Page 29 of Speak from the Heart

Emily picks up her iPad and taps on it a few times before holding it up to show Katie something.

“It’s a way to communicate with others. You get to speak with your hands.”

Emily goes crazy for a few minutes exaggerating how some people talk with their hands all the time. Waving them this way and that. Throwing them up in the air. I’m getting a real lesson myself, and Tricia’s presence lingers behind me. Her fingers hold me in place, still resting on my shoulders.

“Maybe we can learn to say happy birthday so you can say it to your daddy.”

I hold my breath for some reason. I’d prefer she speak the words. I want to hear her voice, but Emily helps Katie find a video on the internet, and together, the two of them follow the instructions.

“Happy.” Emily moves both her hands, palms facing her chest, and brushing them upward two times.

“Birthday,” she says next, then spreads her fingers on her right hand, taps her chin with her middle finger and moves it over her heart. She does the motion twice, repeating the word while making the two-step sign.

Happy Birthday, Katie mimics. I’ll need to learn what these symbols mean, and I reach for the iPad, staring at the paused video.

Can I do this? Can I learn a new language just so I can communicate with my child?

Happy Birthday, Katie gestures again. She concentrates on correctly positioning her hands, repeating the movements. Tricia remains behind me, digging her fingers into my shoulders. My heart races in my chest, and my eyes fixate on Katie.

“Can you do it again?” I ask her, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Can you teach me?”

Katie repeats the signs, and I practice them, a little uncomfortable with the movements but willing to learn as I watch my child’s face light up.

Emily taps Katie’s shoulder. “Let’s learn one more word.” She taps on the iPad, finds what she wants, and points to the video. I don’t hear an explanation, but Katie follows what she sees.

She lifts her right hand, palm out, and spreads her fingers. With the tip of her thumb, she taps two times just above her brow.

“What did she say?” I ask Emily, my voice hitching higher with anticipation.

“Let’s put it all together,” Emily says to Katie, and the two mimic the series of gestures, Emily speaking as they move their hands and fingers. “Happy. Birthday. Daddy.”

“Daddy,” Tricia whispers, and Katie repeats the sign for daddy.

When Katie finishes, I lean forward and open my arms. My baby girl slides off her chair and steps into them. Tugging her up to my lap, I hold her to me, closing my eyes for a second, overcome with emotion. When I open them, I see Emily watching me.

“Thank you,” I mouth like I did the other day in her nana’s dining room when I listened to her read. I knew my daughter was enraptured with her. I was enraptured myself. And confused. So confused.

Emily makes a motion, using her open right hand to tap her chin with her fingertips and then tipping her hand forward and down slightly in my direction. For a moment, I think she’s blowing me a kiss.

“Thank you,” Tricia whispers over my head, translating for me. “Why are you thanking him?” she retorts louder, giving a little snort of disbelief.

“For giving this a chance,” Emily says, keeping her voice soft.

I lick my lips, fighting against the fear—the fear I need this woman in my life and she’s going to slip out of it before I have a chance to do something about it.