It Happened at the Fair by Deeanne Gist Page B

were doing so well. Let’s try it with a sentence. And watch my entire expression if you can. That sometimes helps.”
    Her lips began to move. He knew the minute she used it, but he couldn’t fathom what word in the English language looked like a kiss.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just can’t tell.”
    Sighing, she tilted her head, a tendril of hair slipping free and swirling in the lake’s breeze. “Scoop. I was saying scoop.”
    “Right.” Jumping to his feet, he pulled out his timepiece. “Look at the time. I had no idea it was so late. I’m afraid we’d best be heading back.”
    “Sit down, Mr. McNamara.”
    “What?”
    She threaded her hands together in her lap. “Sit down. I’m the teacher. I say when we’re through.”
    “It’s almost ten o’clock.” He turned the face of his watch toward her.
    “Sit. Down.”
    After a slight hesitation, he sat on the edge of the bench.
    “Thank you.” She reached into a hidden pocket of her skirt and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I’ve written a list of pucker words. You are to stand at the mirror every morning and night and say each word out loud. Pay particular note to the formation of your lips.”
    He shot to his feet again. “I am not going to stand in front of a mirror and practice puckering my lips.”
    “Well, of course not. I don’t want you to do anything with your lips. I want you to speak in a normal fashion without elaborately mouthing the words. That’s very important.”
    Pulling his gloves on more tightly, he avoided her gaze. “Fine. Is class dismissed?”
    She remained silent. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he looked at her.
    She indicated the bench with her eyes.
    He sat.
    “I’m perfectly happy to forgo these lessons.” Her voice was calm, not at all agitated. Simply matter-of-fact. “If you don’t want to do this, I’ll gladly bow out and we’ll both have our evenings free.”
    Dragging a hand over his face, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good student. At least, that’s what my teachers always told me.”
    “I’ll not put up with any more outbursts.” She handed him the paper.
    He took it, then tucked it into his jacket. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how long it takes for a person to learn to lip-read. And now I can see why. So that makes me wonder if maybe I shouldn’t learn the language of signs as well. Just in case I go totally deaf before I master lip-reading.”
    The longer he spoke, the stiffer she became. “You must never, ever use sign language. It would brand you as deaf and different.”
    He shook his head. “I’d use it only at home, with my family. They know about my plight and don’t condemn me for it.”
    “Even still, it’s too risky. It is critical that you blend in with everyone else.”
    He knew she was right. In a society obsessed with United We Stand, Divided We Fall, anything and anyone who was the least bit different was to be avoided at all costs. At best, he’d be labeled an imbecile, at worst, he’d be thrown into an asylum like that poor Ashford girl.
    “I would only use it temporarily,” he said. “Until I became proficient at lip-reading.”
    “It takes years to become proficient. You cannot use sign language for years without someone finding out.”
    “I don’t live in the city the way you do. I’m a farmer, and the only people I see day in and day out are family.”
    Frowning, she tilted her head. “I thought you were an inventor. Aren’t you here to sell your fire sprinklers so they can be manufactured for businesses all over the country?”
    He let out a soft laugh. “That’s nothing but a father’s dream for his son. I’m here only out of respect for him and because he insisted. As soon as the fair’s over, I’m going back to North Carolina, where I’ll live for the rest of my life on a farm in the middle of nowhere. And I’ll need to know how to sign.”
    “What if your fire sprinklers become a