The Ballerina's Stand Read online

  As if sensing Lauren’s mood, Maxine stood and took two steps to reach her. She pulled Lauren to her feet, and enveloped her in the motherly hug Lauren had fought against for so long, but which she now savored.

  Finally, Lauren pulled away. “Why didn’t he find me when he was alive?” she signed slowly, not really wanting to admit her thoughts.

  “You may never know.” Maxine tapped the papers with her finger. “But he owes you. This is what you deserve.”

  Lauren wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t even sure what this was.

  “I don’t want it!” She shook her head to emphasize her point. Maxine frowned but wisely didn’t say anything more. One third of an estate could be anything—or nothing. No sense getting her hopes up for nothing.

  An hour later, Lauren headed home. Coming out of Maxine’s house, she paused at the top of the hill, waiting for the cab to wind its way up the long driveway, and looked out over the city.

  Maxine’s parents had built this place, back when LA was a much smaller city, when the town hadn’t yet reached these hills. The other homes around were smaller, newer, not nearly as interesting as this place. Lauren remembered when social services had first brought her here. She’d been so scared. This was so far beyond anything she’d experienced. While she’d never thought of it as home, she was comfortable here.

  She’d always been safe here.

  The headlights of the cab cut through the growing night. She’d learned long ago to carry business cards with her home address on them. If she wasn’t going to drive, it wasn’t fair to expect a total stranger to know sign language. The man smiled at her and as she handed him the card, she signed hello, knowing he’d realize she was deaf. He glanced at the card and nodded.

  They drove down the hill, the lights of the house blazing in her wake, the lights of the city reaching out and flashing over them as they moved.

  He stopped at her door and she paid him. Her little condo was dark. She hadn’t left any lights on, not expecting to stay so long at Maxine’s. She laughed. Who was she kidding? There was no such thing as a short visit with Maxine.

  Still, when she entered the small foyer and flipped the light switch, she smiled. This was hers. Her place. Her home. She’d worked so hard to afford it.

  Putting her bag down, she saw the corner of the envelope. Had she done the right thing in telling Maxine? The doubts still lingered—about everything.

  She stared at the envelope, suddenly curious about the two people who were listed to split the estate with her. She hastily pulled the pages out again. Palace Haymaker Jr., Palace A. Haymaker III—or Trey, as he was called. Why hadn’t it dawned on her before? A brother. A nephew.

  Racing into the other room, she booted up her computer, wondering, hoping. Her fingers froze on the keys. Was this right? For so long she’d kept to herself. As a child, she couldn’t communicate with others, so they’d never asked questions. And neither had she. But...she’d never wanted to know so badly before.

  She opened the browser. And typed in Palace Haymaker. Her finger hovered over the enter button for a long time. Then with a deep breath, she stabbed it, and watched the little hourglass spin.

  Several notations filled the screen. An obituary? She swallowed. She wasn’t ready for that yet. She scrolled down. The Cattle Baron’s Ball in Dallas? Oh. Wow. She clicked the link and watched as pages of images flashed on the screen. Cowboy hats and big hair characterized them all.

  Hungrily, her eyes scanned the page, skimming the captions. None of the faces, none of the names familiar. And then she saw it. Pal Haymaker and his son, Pal Jr. enjoy the music and drink.

  The two men looked so much alike. Two big men, gray Stetsons on their heads. Neither of them smiled, looking at the photographer as if they were doing him a favor. Her father. Her brother. She stared, hoping to find some resemblance to herself. The hats made it difficult to see what color their hair was, and she assumed the cut was short. She remembered her mother having bright copper hair, the same color Lauren’d had as a child. The color that had faded as she’d grown up.

  Maybe in the eyes? Leaning closer to the screen, she couldn’t tell what color they were. Her frustration grew. She needed something to prove this was real.

  She typed Trey Haymaker into the search box. Another smattering of pictures appeared. Another reference to the Dallas ball. This time, a young man’s face stared back at her, smiling under a too-long mop of bright blond hair. She gasped. He looked too much like the face she saw in the mirror each day.

  His eyes shone bright, blue and light. He looked like the opposite of the other, austere faces. He looked happy.

  Maybe...maybe...this was real.

  She swallowed, and before she could stop herself, she saved both images to the hard drive.

  They were the only pictures she had of anyone related to her by blood. Her only family photos.

  She turned off the computer, not wanting to look anymore. A faded image filled her mind as she climbed the stairs to her room. Her mother’s picture, the only one she’d had, captured in a cheap fake-brass frame, had vanished in one of the many moves between foster homes.

  Her mother’s image had faded in Lauren’s mind with time. The wispy memories were vague now. She wished the internet could find her mother, but Rachel Ramsey had vanished long before there was an internet to capture pictures, words, lives.

  She’d made it halfway up the stairs when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Who was calling so late? Her heart hammered in her chest as she pulled up the screen.

  Dylan Bishop. His words appeared and she froze. I’m in jail. Help me. An address she recognized as the courthouse flashed on a second message.

  Her heart sank and she turned back around, hurrying down the stairs. What had happened? Her mind filled with images of the boy, in a cell, no one understanding his sign, no one bothering to realize he was deaf. She took a deep breath and texted for a cab.

  Please, please hurry. She had to purposefully stop her fingers from moving in the flow of the words.

  The bright yellow cab pulled up, and she hastily ran to greet it, leaving her quiet home and newfound images behind. She had no time for herself. Dylan and his sister, Tina, needed her. That was more important.

  * * *

  JASON STARED AT the computer screen. For once, he understood what all of his clients meant when they referred to legal gobbledygook. The pages on the screen looked like that to him right now.

  His concentration was off. It had been for days, ever since visiting Lauren Ramsey. Foolishly, he’d believed that Haymaker had given him full disclosure. Standing there in the rain, he’d felt like an idiot as she’d tried to explain her situation using sign language.

  Vague memories of having to learn the finger alphabet in something like fourth grade nagged at him. Fat lot of good that had done him. He couldn’t remember a damned thing.

  In anticipation of her coming in to the office, he’d found a sign language interpreting service. Their number was on a sticky note on the frame of his monitor. He’d also gotten online and downloaded a copy of that long-forgotten alphabet.

  He’d tried to make his fingers remember even simple letters. He had the skill level of a three-year-old, and for a lawyer who thought he had a fairly quick mind, who prided himself on his communication skills, that was very...daunting.

  But she hadn’t come in, called or emailed. Nothing. He’d wrestled with the decision of whether to contact her again. He wouldn’t normally, but then he didn’t normally go to people’s homes, either. He’d done that at Pal’s request.

  He stared at the folder on his desk. He’d give it to his assistant, Susan. Have her send a follow-up note to Lauren and call the Dallas firm for the rest of the info. Decision made, he forced himself to turn back to the computer and the briefs he needed to finish.

  “I don’t unde
rstand you.” He heard Susan’s voice come from outside his office. “I still don’t understand you,” she said a bit louder this time. Her response was the closest thing he’d ever heard to a frustrated growl from her. What the heck?

  He stepped to the office door and leaned out. Shocked, he stared at Lauren who stood in front of Susan’s desk, a tall, African American kid standing behind her. The boy’s anger practically singed the room, but he just stood there. Glaring.

  Jason watched, enthralled once again as Lauren’s fingers and hands flew. He didn’t understand any of it. She was too agitated, too fast for his meager skills.

  Susan’s voice broke through the haze of his mind as she practically yelled “I don’t understand you.” He had to save her and Lauren from this mess.

  “Susan, it’s okay.” He put a hand on Susan’s shoulder and smiled at her. It wasn’t her fault. She just didn’t know sign language and didn’t have the skills to automatically recognize a hearing-impaired person. He hadn’t the first time he’d met Lauren, either. The yelling wasn’t appropriate, though.

  “But, Mr. Hawkins, she doesn’t have an appointment,” Susan argued.

  Jason looked over at Lauren and held up his hand, hoping she’d understand his makeshift sign for wait a minute. He didn’t want her to leave.

  “I know,” he soothed Susan. “But I don’t have any appointments this afternoon. I’ll take this. Why don’t you head over to the coffee shop next door? I’ll buy.” He handed her a couple of bills and hustled her out of the office. She frowned, looking at the kid and Lauren as if she needed to protect Jason.

  Once Susan was gone, he turned back to Lauren and the boy. He didn’t want Susan there for several reasons, the least of which was her yelling. He was reluctant to step out of his comfort zone and show anyone at the firm that he was trying to figure out sign language.

  Facing Lauren, he very slowly forced his fingers to form the letters of her name. He didn’t know any full words, and his mind scrambled wondering how to communicate with her. He pointed at himself and formed the letters o-f-f-i-c-e. He didn’t know the sign for follow me, but he used the polite bow and wave toward his door.

  He met her gaze and saw her eyes widen. Her face was so incredibly expressive. Surprise and pleasure bloomed over her features. He was so damned pleased with himself, he had to shake himself out of it. She made a sign in response that could have been anything from thank you to go to hell, for all he knew. She turned to the boy and pointed him toward the office. Jason breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  Her fingers said so many things Jason couldn’t understand, and Jason quickly realized the boy was deaf as well.

  Lauren frowned and grimaced, then changed her features so quickly. He saw now that her features were a part of the signing. Like a bell going off in his mind, some things became very clear. What he was seeing now weren’t her emotions. Her body language was a part of her signing—her communication. She was talking with everything she had to the boy. She extended her arm and pointed again to the office. The frown she gave the boy reflected her displeasure with him.

  Jason kept staring at her, fascinated. His heart picked up pace. Maybe he could learn how to do this.

  He wasn’t stupid enough to think it would be easy, or quick. He had to get through this meeting, and he couldn’t conduct it all spelling out each word. Billing by the hour, he’d be the most expensive lawyer in history. He’d also drive himself nuts.

  He knew from his initial call to the interpreter that they needed a minimum of an hour’s notice. So what the heck was he going to do? He started hunting for a legal pad.

  The computer he’d been so frustrated with earlier seemed to glow as it sat there. He smiled. Then, hurrying behind the desk, he waved Lauren and the boy into the two chairs facing him.

  Jason didn’t have to know sign to read this kid. He did not want to sit or even be here, but for some reason, Lauren had dragged him down here.

  Jason cleared the screen and pulled up a blank word processing document. He turned the monitor toward them and typed his first question. Hello, Lauren. What can I do for you today? God, it sounded so formal, but he wasn’t good on the fly. He was better if he could analyze every word a zillion times.

  Lauren looked at the boy and after he nodded, she reached for the keyboard. She typed, This is Dylan. He needs a lawyer or he’s going back to jail. Can you help us?

  Whoa. That came out of left field. Jason took the keyboard back. Hello, Dylan. Nice to meet you. I don’t think I can help. I’m not that kind of lawyer.

  She read and frowned. We don’t know any other lawyers. Please?

  The look on her face, thick with pleading was his downfall.

  I can try. That’s all I can promise. Tell me what happened. Maybe if he got the info, he could point them in the right direction.

  Did he really want to get involved? When Jason looked at Lauren, the worry on her face answered him. There was no turning back.

  She didn’t take the keyboard this time, but pushed it toward the boy and crossed her arms. Waiting. Glaring. The boy glared back. Lauren uncrossed her arms and started to sign. Jason caught only a letter here and there. But he read her emotions.

  Anger. Pain. Worry.

  The boy was nearly as stubborn. He didn’t move. Until she slowly shook her head and spelled a word. Jason stared, concentrating on her fingers, catching only a few letters.

  But whatever she’d said, it got through to the boy. His face fell and he reached for the keyboard. Reluctantly he started typing.

  Jason leaned back in his chair, waiting, watching both the boy and Lauren.

  There was no self-satisfied smirk on her face, but the look in her eyes was a whole different matter. She was good. She’d played the kid—and him—well.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE BOY KEPT typing and Jason sat back and let him. Even if Dylan was spewing anger, it would give Jason a sense of the situation.

  It also gave Jason the opportunity to take a minute to study Lauren.

  Now that he’d gotten over that initial shock of not being able to communicate with her, Jason was even more impressed and intrigued by her.

  He didn’t stare openly at her—he did it out of the corner of his eye. The ballerina he’d seen on that stage wasn’t here today. And though the woman before him was equally as beautiful, she wasn’t as intimidating and awe-inspiring. More human. Approachable.

  Lauren had her hair pulled back into a high, flowing ponytail. The style accentuated her smooth features and the long curve of her neck. She was sitting back as well, waiting and watching the boy.

  Finally, Dylan leaned back, pushing the monitor just enough to turn it toward Lauren, not Jason—sending quite the attitudinal message.

  When Lauren went to turn the monitor toward Jason, he shook his head and stood, walking around the desk to stand behind her so they could read it together.

  The boy had typed more than Jason had expected. Several paragraphs filled the screen. After moving the mouse over to where she could reach it and indicating she should take control, Jason started to read.

  There was no opening. All the sentences were direct. Short. He’d followed someone named Tina. Jason pointed at the name and frowned. He wished he knew the sign to ask a question.

  “Who?” he asked in reflex.

  Lauren, who had been looking at him, moved her lips into a very pretty near pucker, a silent imitation of the actual word. She drew the shape of a question mark in the air with a long slender finger.

  “My sister,” Dylan said in very halted speech. His words surprised Jason. He’d assumed he didn’t speak either, like Lauren. He wondered why he hadn’t spoken earlier. Jason noticed Dylan’s hands moved in unison with his words, as if the two were tied together.

  Fascinated, Jason tore his gaze back to the screen
. Lauren turned as well. The autocorrect had made several words not make sense. Jason leaned closer, hoping to decipher them without having to ask.

  Something sweet and soft wafted around him. The scent of Lauren’s shampoo or perfume. He liked it. Liked it a lot. He had to shake his head in order to clear it and concentrate on the information.

  Tina had snuck out of the house, despite their foster parents’ warnings that they’d consider moving her if she did that again. Dylan had followed her, hoping to get her back home before they found out.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t want to go back, and was hoping to get kicked out. Dylan wasn’t sure they’d end up together if that happened. She’d said she didn’t care and that had made him angry. He’d grabbed her and tried to drag her home.

  Unfortunately, a tall male dragging a kicking and screaming young girl down the street was a bit obvious. The cops had hauled them both in, not sure what was happening.

  Jason pointed at Tina’s name again. “How old is Tina?” he asked Lauren, who watched his lips closely, as he spoke. She nodded, but didn’t immediately look away. And when she did, her gaze met his, holding for an instant. An instant that shot heat through him. He swallowed and tried to focus on the boy.

  “Two years younger than me. Thirteen,” Dylan answered in sign and speech.

  Lauren’s hands moved quickly, making the boy laugh. “Lauren says, going on thirty.”

  “Ah.” Jason got the gist. A young, probably just blossoming, pretty girl if she had the same smooth features as her brother, wanting to taste freedom. Wanting out of a foster home.

  Jason had read the whole report and still had several questions. He reached for the keyboard, and typed. “Where are your parents?” He hated asking, but it was part of the whole equation.

  “Mom’s dead.” The boy’s eyes shone for an instant, but he quickly recovered as if he’d learned to shut it off fast. “Dad’s got another five years. Armed robbery.”

  Lovely. Jason wondered which had happened first. Another whiff of perfume made him glance over at Lauren. What she was thinking? He was usually good at reading people, but she was tough. Partially because there was a bit of playacting in her signing, an emphasis for the words’ sake. Right now, she was frowning. And since her hands weren’t moving, he was pretty sure that was her true displeasure.