Listen to the Child. Carolyn McSparren

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      INSIDE, Kit leaned against the front door and flung her shoulder bag across the room onto the sofa so hard that her wallet and makeup spilled onto the carpet. She picked everything up, stuffed her bag again and set it on the chest at the side of the room.

      She leaned both hands on the top of the chest and took some deep breaths. Some tough cookie she was, breaking down every time she got safely home from one of her encounters with what she was coming to think of as “them.” People who could hear.

      At least Dr. Thorn didn’t dole out great gobs of pity. She’d had her fill of that. She looked at the mirror above the chest and grinned at the streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. “First purchase tomorrow morning—waterproof mascara,” she said. She wiped her cheeks with the flat of her hands. Better.

      Not being able to hear her own voice resonate inside her head was perhaps the oddest thing she’d had to adjust to. That, and the continual whistling sound.

      The stairwell lights went on, and a moment later, her mother came down the steps and stopped directly in front of Kit. “Darling, how’s Kev?”

      Kit headed for the kitchen. She badly needed a cold beer. “He’s going to be okay, but they had to remove a kidney.”

      She got the beer and turned, realizing her mother had probably reacted to the news. Now Catherine Barclay sat at the kitchen table and held out her hand to her daughter. “Emma’s been terribly worried.”

      “I’ll tell her the minute she wakes up tomorrow.”

      “Tell me he’s okay.” Emma appeared in the doorway, blinking in the light.

      Kit nodded. “He’ll be home in a couple of days.”

      “What was wrong with him?” The ten-year-old padded into the room and leaned against her grandmother’s shoulder.

      “His kidney went bad. They had to remove it.” Kit saw the alarm in Emma’s eyes and held up her hand. “Whoa! I promise he’s fine. Everybody’s got two kidneys and can get along with one.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “Absolutely. Now, go back to bed. Sunday school tomorrow, remember.”

      “Do I have to?”

      Kit could almost hear Emma’s patented whine in her head. There were occasional blessings about being deaf. Not having to listen to Emma’s histrionics was a definite plus, but as Emma grew more used to her mother’s deafness, she was becoming more and more adept at pantomiming her emotions.

      “Yes, we have to go to church tomorrow. Now, back to bed, please. It’s late. And take Jo-Jo with you.”

      Emma reached down and picked up the bobcat-size yellow tabby that was winding himself around her ankles. “I think he misses Kev.”

      “One less creature to terrorize.”

      Emma waved one hand over her shoulder as she wandered into the shadows while Jo-Jo looked back at them.

      Her mother reached out to get Kit’s attention. “She worries about you. I had the devil’s own time getting her into bed tonight.”

      “She’s taking advantage of you. Worrying about me is a great excuse to stay up late. She managed to get to bed on time when I was with the T.A.C.T. squad. If she worried then she never showed it.”

      “She was too young to realize how dangerous your job was. Small children trust that their parents will always be there—hale and hearty. First she lost her father when you divorced him, then your accident proved you’re breakable. She’s afraid she might lose you to something worse than deafness.”

      “She hasn’t lost her father. She sees more of Jimmy now than she ever did before the divorce. At least he’s on scheduled visits, when he deigns to show up.”

      “Not the same thing.”

      “And as for Emma’s worrying about me, she’ll have to deal with it. I used to worry about you all the time when you were on the job. Every time a cop got killed I’d think, ‘That could be my mother.’ Didn’t stop you being a cop, and it hasn’t stopped you being a P.I., either.”

      Catherine took a deep breath. This was hardly a new discussion. “Being a P.I. is not dangerous. I spend most of my time combing through financial records.”

      “Any situation can turn dangerous,” Kit said. “That was the first thing you taught me, remember? Always keep your guard up? Anyway, Emma doesn’t have to worry I’ll get caught in a shoot-out or anything. Not anymore.”

      “That’s not the point.” Catherine took the half-full bottle of beer out of her daughter’s hand, poured the remainder down the sink and dropped the bottle into the recycle bin. “Until you were hurt, losing a child was something that happened to other parents. Then when your father and I got called to the hospital, I realized I could actually lose you.” Her mother’s voice clouded.

      This wasn’t the way Kit and her mother ever spoke to one another. Her mother’s sudden emotion made Kit uncomfortable. She tried to laugh. “I wasn’t at death’s door, Mom.”

      Her mother raised her eyes. “You certainly looked as though you were. I’m sure you looked half-dead to Emma. Suddenly the impossible—being abandoned by her mother—became possible. You don’t get over that quickly.”

      “So on top of everything else I’m supposed to feel guilty that I got blown up, because I scared my parents and my child? I know this is hard for her, Mom. At first she fell all over herself being helpful—mommy’s little nurse. Treated me as though I was some sort of invalid. Brought me tea in bed. Refused to let me out of her sight. But that gets old fast when you’re ten. Now I embarrass her.”

      “Yes, you probably do.” Catherine sounded defeated. “You and I never could communicate. I don’t suppose you and Emma can actually talk all this through, can you?”

      “That would just make things worse. She’s adjusting at her own pace. I’m not going to rub her nose in my infirmity. God, Mom, remember when I shot that guy and had to go to the shrink? Now every time I hear anybody say, ‘And how did that make you feel?’ I want to hit something. I’m not going to do that to Emma.”

      “She’s your child.” Catherine walked to the kitchen door. “Time for me to go home.” She turned to face Kit. “I almost forgot to tell you. Vince Calandruccio called. Said to call him at the Dog Squad tomorrow morning to tell him about Kevlar.”

      “Vince is a good guy. A lot of the guys I worked with on the job have stopped calling to check up on me, but Vince keeps coming over and bringing Adam, of course. He never goes anywhere without his dog.”

      Catherine nodded. “You look wiped out. Go to bed. And if you don’t make it to Sunday school, don’t sweat it. I’m sure God will understand.”

      “Thanks for watching Emma, Mother.”

      “You’re welcome.” Catherine picked up her purse and walked through the door.

      Suddenly Kit felt so exhausted she wasn’t certain she could drag herself up the stairs to her bedroom. The СКАЧАТЬ