Chapter 2 - THE LANGUAGE NO ONE ELSE KNEW
The next morning, a black SUV collected me at 7:10.
Poppy thought it was hilarious.
“You have a chauffeur.”
“I have a ride.”
“That's a chauffeur.”
“Eat your toast.”
She climbed onto the windowsill to look down at the car.
“Is your new boss rich?”
“Yes.”
“Like dentist rich or spaceship rich?”
“Put your shoes on.”
That apparently answered her question.
Ronan's driver was a silent man named Owen.
He never asked where Poppy's father was.
People usually did.
The answer was simple.
Daniel Ellison died in a construction accident when Poppy was eighteen months old.
He had been kind.
We had been too young.
We had never married.
His death left me a twenty-two-year-old mother with seven hundred dollars, a toddler who barely spoke, and no idea what came next.
Dorian entered my life months later.
Not as a lover.
Not as Poppy's father.
Not as anything people would eventually gossip about.
He entered bleeding.
But Ronan didn't know that.
At Raven Hill, I went directly to Evelyn's room.
Her breakfast sat untouched.
The nurse, Lydia Hart, looked relieved to see me.
“Maybe she'll eat for you.”
“Did she sleep?”
“Four hours.”
“Pain?”
Lydia glanced toward the door.
“Less than yesterday.”
“Her medication?”
“Same schedule.”
Evelyn watched us.
The instant Lydia left, her hands moved.
Falcon.
Door listening?
I checked.
No one.
I answered:
Safe for now.
Her eyes filled.
Dorian?
My throat tightened.
Four years had not made that question easier.
I shook my head.
Gone.
She already knew.
Of course she knew.
She had buried him.
But grief does strange things to certainty.
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Then signed:
You knew him.
Yes.
He sent you.
Yes.
Why four years?
That question had lived inside me every day.
I reached into my uniform and touched the small brass capsule hanging beneath my shirt.
Not yet.
Evelyn's expression sharpened.
I signed:
He told me to wait until you remembered Falcon.
She stared.
Then:
I remembered every day.
A chill went through me.
“What?”
Her fingers moved more slowly.
They think I don't.
I pulled the chair closer.
“Who?”
She looked toward the door.
Then signed one word.
Doctor.
Before I could ask more, footsteps approached.
I switched immediately to ordinary ASL.
Breakfast?
Evelyn understood.
She pointed at the tray.
Ronan entered.
He looked from her hands to mine.
“What did she say?”
“She wants tea.”
Evelyn's eyes flashed.
I hoped Ronan didn't notice.
He did.
“You're lying.”
“I am translating.”
“Poorly.”
He moved closer.
“My mother hates tea.”
Evelyn signed:
Still arrogant.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
Ronan narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What did she say?”
“She called you arrogant.”
For the first time, surprise cracked through his control.
He looked at Evelyn.
“Mother?”
Her lips moved.
No sound.
Then she lifted one finger at him.
Ronan almost smiled.
Almost.
It changed his entire face.
For one second, I saw Dorian.
Same eyes.
Same stubborn jaw.
Then Ronan became guarded again.
“At noon, Dr. Hollis is coming.”
Evelyn's hands tightened.
Doctor.
The word she'd signed earlier.
I looked at Ronan.
“Her regular physician?”
“For four years.”
“Neurologist?”
“Internal medicine. He coordinates everything.”
“Does she have a neurologist?”
“Three.”
“When did they last evaluate her?”
His eyes hardened.
“You've worked here one day.”
“I asked a question.”
“And I heard it.”
He left without answering.
At eleven thirty, I opened Evelyn's medication drawer.
Lydia had gone downstairs.
I didn't touch anything.
I simply read labels.
Blood pressure.
Cholesterol.
Antiplatelet.
Anti-anxiety medication.
Sleep medication.
Several had changed recently.
I photographed nothing.
Took nothing.
But one bottle bothered me.
The dosage label was new.
Evelyn watched my face.
She signed:
Makes fog.
“Which?”
She pointed.
“Since when?”
Four years.
I felt cold.
“Every day?”
Morning. Night.
I looked toward the door.
Dr. Hollis arrived at noon.
Late fifties.
Silver hair.
Expensive watch.
Gentle voice.
The kind of physician wealthy families trusted because he never seemed hurried.
He smiled at me.
“You must be Mara.”
“How do you know?”
“Ronan called.”
Of course.
Dr. Hollis examined Evelyn.
Pupils.
Blood pressure.
Heart.
He asked her to follow his finger.
She did.
Then he spoke about her while she sat three feet away.
“Cognitive response remains inconsistent.”
Evelyn's jaw tightened.
“She understands you,” I said.
Dr. Hollis smiled patiently.
“Ms. Ellison, neurological injury can create the appearance of comprehension.”
“She understands.”
“You've spent twenty-four hours with her.”
“And you've spent four years.”
His smile disappeared.
Ronan stood near the window.
Watching.
Dr. Hollis turned back to Evelyn.
“Let's keep the current regimen.”
Her hand suddenly seized mine.
Falcon.
No.
My pulse jumped.
I said carefully:
“She says the medication makes her foggy.”
Hollis barely looked at her.
“Patients frequently dislike sedating medication.”
“Is sedation necessary?”
Ronan's gaze moved to me.
Hollis answered.
“It prevents agitation.”
Evelyn signed ordinary ASL.
Not agitation.
Pain.
I translated.
Dr. Hollis sighed.
“I think we're finished.”
After he left, Ronan remained.
“You don't like him.”
“Your mother doesn't like him.”
“My mother didn't speak to you.”
“She doesn't need her voice.”
His stare lingered.
Then:
“Come with me.”
We walked down the East Wing corridor.
At the far end stood a tall brass clock shaped like a narrow tower.
At its top was a carved falcon.
I stopped.
Ronan noticed.
“You've seen it before.”
“No.”
Another lie.
Not the clock.
The falcon.
Dorian had drawn that exact bird dozens of times while recovering.
Wings closed.
Head turned east.
Ronan said:
“That clock belonged to my grandfather.”
I forced myself to walk.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I don't know yet.”
Neither did I.
But Dorian's final words echoed in my head.
When Mother remembers, follow the falcon east.
At four twenty, I found an envelope inside my coat pocket.
I had left the coat hanging in the staff room.
No name.
Inside was a single photograph.
Poppy boarding bus sixteen that morning.
My hands went numb.
On the back were five words.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED GONE.
I didn't tell Ronan.
That was my first mistake.
My second was thinking four years of silence meant the person who had threatened me had forgotten.
May you like
They hadn't.
Someone inside Raven Hill knew exactly who I was.
