Shadows On The River. Linda Hall

glasses. She screwed up her mouth in the way that he smiled. Forever on, this would be our sign for him.

      And then she paused, seemed to think and signed quickly, “It’s okay, we can get skates tomorrow.”

      “Come here, pumpkin pie.” She did. And as I held my daughter, smelled the little-girl smell of her hair, I wondered how I was going to tell her that there would probably not be any new skates for a while.

      When I backed away from her, I signed. “Maybe tomorrow we can go and have a look at Value Village for some skates.”

      She immediately dropped her hands to her sides and stared at me. Then, frowning, she signed rapidly, “But you said new skates. New skates. New skates. New skates.” She kept repeating this last part, her fingers becoming wilder, stiffer with each repetition.

      “I know, pumpkin pie, but sometimes things happen. And Value Village has good stuff. We go there a lot.”

      She regarded me for a while without saying anything.

      “A bad thing happened with my work,” I tried to explain.

      “I know,” she signed without looking at me. “I heard you on the phone.”

      I stared at her. Sometimes I’m astounded at how astute she is. She’s learned a fair bit of lip reading, plus she’s always been able to pick up on my moods.

      “It’s not fair,” she said.

      “I know,” I said. But by now my little daughter had shut her eyes tightly, turned her head away fiercely. When I tapped her shoulder, she held this pose. When I reached for her and stroked her hair, she jerked away.

      

      Several times before my guests arrived, I went up to Maddy’s room, but as soon as she saw me enter, she would shut her eyes and scrunch up her face.

      Downstairs, I cleaned up our lunch dishes and loaded the dishwasher. I got out the coffeepot. Maybe people would like coffee. Why did it ever occur to me that things would work in my favor? Why did I even bother trying?

      I thought about Maritime Nautical and wondered if it was time to quit trying to survive on this freelance stuff and get a real job, like with a corporation, or a big company. I’ve got both a BA and an MA in Naval Architecture and Ocean Engineering and I could be making a lot more money somewhere else. People with my kind of degrees are pulling in six figures at huge boat-building companies.

      I slumped into my couch and got out the Halifax Chronicle and scanned the want ads. Not finding anything of interest in the Chronicle, I got up. Tomorrow I’d try to find a Saturday Globe and Mail. There are always more job ads in that paper. But there was one good reason why I wasn’t farther in my career, and that was Maddy. And for one awful minute I resented her. She was upstairs not speaking to me because I couldn’t afford new skates for her, and she was the reason I couldn’t make more money.

      But that awful moment passed in an instant.

      Just before Rod and Jolene were due to arrive I went up to her room one last time. She looked up from her ponies this time and signed, “Can I go to Miranda’s today?” Her mood seemed somewhat improved.

      “I can’t drive you,” I said. “I have a meeting. And I don’t know if it’s okay with Miranda’s mother.”

      “Can you phone her?”

      I got on the floor and sat beside her. “How about if I call her when I go downstairs and see if Miranda would like to come over tomorrow. I’ll pick you guys up after school,” I said.

      “Okay.”

      I ran my fingers through her strawberry curls, untangling them. I signed, “What would you and Miranda like to do tomorrow?”

      “Get new skates.”

      “I don’t know about that.” But maybe I would rethink it. What was forty more dollars on my credit card?

      I hugged her tightly for a few minutes before I went downstairs to call Miranda’s mother, Katie.

      “I’ll pick her up,” I offered, after making the girls’ playdate.

      “Great. Miranda will love that. Hey, did you get the notice about the deaf luncheon next month? It’s a fund-raiser.”

      “Maybe. I think it came across my e-mail.” I closed my eyes. I may have deleted it.

      Katie said, “But you’ve got that new job, right? So, you probably won’t be able to be involved? We’d love to have you come. How’s the job going?”

      “Well, actually…” I paused, caught my breath. “Maybe I’ll come. Mark us down.”

      Katie and I were friends. Our daughters were the same age and both deaf. They had been placed in the same regular classroom, where a full-time interpreter worked with them throughout the day. Katie was an extremely energetic woman who worked hard to help her daughter succeed. We had a lot in common, yet nothing in common. Katie didn’t work. She didn’t have to. Her husband’s job provided all the money they needed and then some. Katie devoted her life to the deaf community, making sure that Miranda had the best possible care and opportunities.

      I was grateful to Katie for all the work she did on behalf of the deaf community. Sometimes I felt I didn’t have the time, strength or money to advocate for my daughter’s care the way Katie did. There are times when I feel so overwhelmed.

      Katie and her husband also had another child, a hearing girl who was four. Plus, they went to church. I’m not sure which one. When they would ask me if Maddy could attend with them, I always said no, even though Maddy sometimes begged to go and they had a full-time sign-language interpreter on staff.

      They never pressed. I was grateful for that. Katie knew nothing about where I came from and what had happened to me, and why I was so adamantly against church. She probably figured I’d been raised like most of the people my age, in a secular family. It would probably surprise her to know I knew a few Sunday School songs. They popped into my thoughts at the oddest moments, as did prayers.

      Rod and Jolene arrived ten minutes later. Jolene hugged me. She was looking more and more radiant. The fringed ends of a skinny, shimmery scarf wound many times around her neck, draped down across her round belly. She also wore a set of long silver chandelier earrings. I asked, “And how are we feeling?”

      “Both of us are healthy and happy and waiting for this little girl to show her face. Only a couple more weeks.”

      I said, “Wow! I can’t believe it’s so soon.” I paused. “I thought you were shopping with your mother today.”

      “Rod called me on my cell. He told me everything on the way over.” She smiled widely and said, “All I can say is this is probably a blessing in disguise.”

      “How can you say that?”

      “You guys’ll do just great. Rod is talented and, Ally, you’re so brilliant. You have nothing to worry about. My husband, Mr. Perfection, will have no trouble getting more contracts. There’s already a bunch of stuff we’re working on bids for.”

      “But this one was so big.”

      “Don’t give it another thought.”

      I’ve always thought it strange that this glass-is-half-full person married someone like Rod, whose glass is usually half-empty. But I guess between them they end up with a full glass, so it works. Rod spread out sheets filled with numbers and figures on my dining-room table, while Jolene leaned against the wall and talked with me about baby furniture.

      Some might say Jolene’s nose is a bit too long and too pinched—aquiline, she calls it—and her lips too thin to be attractive by today’s standards. Yet Jolene has an individuality. Her black plastic rectangular glasses only add to her look.

      “But this was our chance at the big leagues,” I said.

      “You guys are already in the big leagues, especially