I felt as if my heart had become something so light and airy that it floated about in my chest. I know I was holding my breath. We entered the room. Mommy was propped up and looking vacantly at the television set as if she had been hypnotized by the light and had no idea what was playing or what people were saying. She looked at us. but I saw no
recognition, no change in her expression. Daddy reached for my hand and looked up at me. I know he was expecting me to cry.
I didn't.
He wheeled close to her bed, and I followed. "You can give her a kiss," he whispered.
I did. I kissed her cheek. She brought her hand to it and stared at me.
"Hi. Caroline. I brought Jordan because she's come home. Remember I was telling you how she had gone off to stay with Aunt Frances for a while? Well, she's back now. I enrolled her in school this week. She's doing fine:' he added.
Mammy listened and then looked at me, but her expression didn't change.
"Talk to her," Daddy said.
"I have been talking to her." I told him.
"Talk to her some more. Jordan," he said, closing and opening his eves.
He doesn't believe me, I thought, That's all right. It's not important.
I started to talk to her as if she knew everything already. I began with my return to the mansion and the school. I told her about my classes and all the things I hadn't told her telepathically. She listened, her eyes on me, her expression never changing.
Daddy sighed and shook his head.
"Patience," Mrs. Feinberg whispered. I hadn't realized she was standing behind us the whole time. Daddy nodded.
"Keep talking to her," he said but without enthusiasm,
"Oh, I see the doctor is here. Mr. March," Mrs. Feinberg said. "Would you like to speak with him?"
"Yes," he said. "I'll be right back. Jordan. Just keep talking to her," he told me, turned his chair and wheeled out of the room.
Mommy followed him with her gaze, then looked at me.
Now that Daddy was gone. I began to tell her everything about my discovery, about Mrs. DeMarco and about visiting Grandmother Emma. She listened, and I could see her eyes darken and feel her fingers tighten a little in my hand.
"What should I do. Mommy? What should I do?" Her fingers moved in my hand, but she didn't speak. Daddy wheeled back into the room.
"How's it going?"
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"Good," I said, and his eyes widened with surprise at my calmness.
"Okay. Now that you know how it is, we'll return regularly and hope for a quicker recuperation. We've got to leave now, honey. I have some other things to do."
"All right," I said.
He wheeled closer, took Mommy's hand, and told her we would return often and told her how much he wished for her to recover. She didn't say anything.
She's not ready to forgive him, I thought, but I knew in my heart she would someday.
He looked at me, turned and started to wheel himself out. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
I felt her breath on mine. She trying to speak, I thought and leaned closer, bringing my ear to her lips.
I heard her.