Chapter 21

Mitch's phone flashed as it rang, lighting up his room—and painting the backs of his eyelids with the bright light. He wasn't really asleep, but he hadn't gotten out of bed yet. He wasn't in Three Rivers, on the ranch, anymore, and he didn't have to be up by five-thirty and out on the ranch by six to beat the heat.

Here, he got to wake up at a normal hour, and work in a regularly air conditioned building, and be done at a decent hour that didn't leave his shoulders bunched with tension and exhaustion. Here, at Whispering Paws, Mitch already had friends he could talk to. Really talk to.

Too bad he was terribly lonely, despite having made this choice, this move across over a thousand miles, and had plenty of what he'd thought he wanted.

You do want it, he told himself as the bright light filled the room again. You are happy here. He reached for his phone and tapped to answer the video call from Link. He'd left Three Rivers two weeks ago, and Link had called four times now. Mitch wasn't sure who was lonelier—him or Link.

Hey, Link said, the word appearing at the bottom of the video on Mitch's phone. He signed the greeting as well.

Mitch waved, his version of Hey.

I caught you in bed. Link smiled at him. Lucky. He ducked down and heaved up a golden retriever. Honor says hi, he signed with one hand. Then he waved one of Honor's paws. How's the new dog?

Mitch grinned and grinned at the dog he'd left behind in Texas. He'd bought the dog outright, and he didn't have to put her back into hearing service. He'd made the trip to Willowbrook with his daddy and Honor, and his father had driven the dog home again once Mitch had his small, century-old house set up the way he wanted it.

He'd gotten a new hearing dog to train, and as he sat up on the edge of the bed, his dog—a pretty, burnished red cockapoo—jumped down to the ground, his smile absolutely adorable.

He's learning, Mitch said. Here he is. His name's Beacon. He turned his phone, so the camera showed the curly-haired dog. When he faced the phone back to him, Link had dropped Honor back to the ground. His phone sat propped up on his dining room table, and he had a plate of sausage and eggs in front of him.

I'm calling to see how the first day was, he signed. You said you'd call, and you didn't. Link kept his gaze down, and Mitch appreciated that. He wasn't trying to be accusatory, which was why he'd dropped eye contact.

Mitch knew Link though, and his heart grew two sizes, banging against his ribcage. When Link looked back up, Mitch started talking. First day was really great, actually. I'm teaching college, Link. I was scared out of my mind when I walked into that first class.

He tipped his head back and let laughter come out of his mouth. Ninety percent of the people who lived and worked at Whispering Paws were either completely deaf, legally deaf, or hard of hearing. Had he opted to live on campus, he wouldn't have had to worry about disturbing his neighbor by laughing too loudly too early in the morning.

The advanced students are first thing in the morning, he said. So the day got easier from there.

I can't imagine there's a sign you don't know, Link said. Especially ranch vocabulary.

Probably not, Mitch agreed. It was still terrifying.

But you did it. Link smiled at him. And it's the weekend now. What are you doing?

Training Beacon, he said. He's got lessons every afternoon, and a long session on the weekend. You?

Misty's moving today, Link said. Back to town.

Mitch watched his best friend and cousin, trying to read how Link felt about his girlfriend moving off the ranch after being there for months. Link, as usual, gave nothing away. Mitch longed to be more like that. More level-headed. Less smiley. Less "happy hands" and blurting out whatever came into his head.

When he couldn't decipher his cousin's mood, he asked, How do you feel about that?

It's time, Link said.

Are things still serious?

Link nodded. Pretty serious, yeah. I've—we've talked about her moving here permanently after her job with the state finishes up.

Mitch was surprised and unsurprised at the same time. Definitely sounds serious then.

Maybe more for me than her, Link said. But I'm trying to be patient.

Mitch smiled, but it didn't hold a whole heap of happiness. Ah, our favorite word.

Link's smile opened his mouth, which indicated that he was probably laughing. He once again dropped his head as he signed, Right? I'm sick of hearing it. He looked up at Mitch again. Too bad it's the only message I'm getting from God. It's like it's on repeat.

Mitch's stomach growled, and he ignored it. At least you get something from God. He couldn't believe he'd said the words, but his hands dropped back to his lap, the signs out. Done.

Link blinked, but his gaze didn't waver one bit. Do you think you're in the right place, Mitch?

Yeah, Mitch said. Yep. I do.

Then you are, Link said. He didn't ask anything more. He didn't start lecturing Mitch about his lack of a testimony in Jesus Christ. He simply sat with him for another moment, and then said, I miss you around here.

I miss you too, Mitch said. You don't talk to my parents, do you?

Sure, Link said. I do. Not about you, though. They haven't said anything to me about you. Why?

No reason, Mitch said, though he hadn't talked to his parents as much as Link since moving here. He reasoned he was twenty-eight years old, and he didn't have to call his mommy every day to check in. He hadn't done that when he lived at Shiloh Ridge, and just because Willowbrook and Whispering Pines was further from her didn't mean he had to start now.

Call your momma once a week.

The thought entered his mind, in the voice he imagined his daddy to have. That had been Daddy's parting advice to Mitch when he'd finally loaded up Honor to make the drive back to Texas. Call your momma once a week.

Mitch had called her once, so he wasn't exactly behind yet—if he called today or tomorrow.

Are you coming home for the Angel Tree?Link asked next. I know it's not for another couple of months, but I think it'll probably be the next time I see you in person.

Yeah, Mitch said. I've got airplane tickets already.

You're going to fly? Link's eyebrows went up. That'll be a new experience for you.

Mitch grinned. Yeah, one I'm kind of excited about.

Why?

Because it's what normal people do.

Once again, he found himself having said something he hadn't anticipated saying. And his hands weren't done yet. I just want to feel normal, Link. And here, I feel so much more normal than I do at Shiloh Ridge.

But at the same time, I'm so homesick I just walk around the grocery store, comparing it to Wilde Organic. He drew in a big breath and blew it out. Nothing makes sense.

Everything is still new, Link said. And we both know I'm way better at adjusting to new things than you. He maintained a perfectly straight face as he said it, and Mitch wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

His hands flew into motion again, protesting against his inability to change, and Link fully laughed now, his boxy shoulders vibrating as he did. Mitch stopped talking, his own smile gracing his face.

Is Misty gonna come to the Angel Tree?Mitch asked when they'd both stopped chuckling.

Link's smile slipped away to nothing, and he looked away from his almost-empty plate. I don't know.

You wanted to ask her last year, Mitch said. Surely you will this year.

I'm going to talk to her about it, Link said. Oh, she's here. Want to say hello?

Misty could speak a little sign language, and she crammed into the same frame as Link to ask him how Virginia was. Mitch liked seeing the two of them together, and he sure did notice the softness that came over Link when he looked at her.

He chitchatted with Misty for a minute, and then she turned to go into Link's kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee. I miss you, brother, he signed. I'll call again soon.

Yeah, Mitch said. I miss you too, Link.

The video went black very soon after that, and Mitch got to his feet and pulled on a shirt. At his feet, Beacon got up and trotted toward the bedroom door. Then the dog came back to him and sat.

Mitch made the training sign that said, Show me, and Beacon led the way out of the bedroom and down the hall. Mitch had two bedrooms and a single bath in this house, with a big, open area for a living room and dining room. The kitchen sat at the back of the house, along one wall, and Daddy had bought a portable island to give some delineation between the kitchen and the living room.

Beacon went past the black leather couches and to the door. He put his front paws up on it, then turned back to Mitch and sat. Mitch patted the dog and continued to the door to open it. Sure enough, a woman stood there in a dark blue uniform.

I need you to sign for this, she said, and Mitch imagined her voice to be pitched up a little, with a slightly Southern twang. Her dark hair had been braided half back, with the rest spilling over her slight shoulders.

Mitch smiled at her and reached for the electronic pen. He signed his name on the tablet and took the envelope she extended toward him. She smiled too, and in that brief moment when the package transferred hands, a spark jumped between them.

In a normal situation, Mitch would've asked for her number. At the very least, he'd have said something flirty and fun. He'd seen other men do it plenty of times. He normally wasn't too self-conscious of his inability to communicate with hearing people, but something inside him had flipped.

He simply ducked his head in thanks, backed up a step, and closed the door between them, all while the dark-eyed beauty made eyes at him that said she'd have given him her phone number.

It's that kind of thing that Link doesn't understand, he told himself as he peeled back the tab to open the envelope. Asking a pretty woman for her number should be easy, and Mitch couldn't even do that. Not without a big explanation about how he was deaf, and then too many texts back and forth to get the information he wanted.

He'd put himself on a female fast besides. He made his own breakfast and just as he'd sat down to eat, his phone lit up with a text.

Link: I think you're an amazing man, Mitch. I don't want to lecture you at all. It's the last thing I want. Your momma said something at church last week that has been in my mind a lot this week.

Mitch was sure she had. His mother was an excellent preacher, because she actually lived her religion. She made mistakes and worked to fix them. Then, she told people about it, and they felt this great connection to her.

He did too, but he also sometimes felt like she had something to say to him she just hadn't found a way to say yet. She'd once told him that if he felt like he had to hide something from her, it probably wasn't a good thing to be doing. He just needed some space. He needed to figure out how to be who he was, because he wasn't going to suddenly be able to hear when the sun rose in the morning.

Link: She said to remember the long view. That our day-to-day challenges can sometimes feel so overwhelming, and they can make us think or only be able to see short-term. So I know you're frustrated right now. Still settling into something that feels new and scary and big. I just want you to know that I love you, and I know God loves you, and I hope you can have the longest view possible right now.

Mitch's heartbeat pulsed through his body, because he believed every word Link had spoken, and he had to acknowledge that God loved him. He had not been forgotten.

He simply hoped God would have a long view on his life too, and that He could potentially forgive this little bump where Mitch had doubted everything in his life, including his belief that God was aware of him, cared about him, and wanted to guide him.