Free Circle of Spies by Roseanna M. White

“What good would it do, Walker?”
    â€œWhat good? We could talk to her. Know what she’s thinking. She could talk to us and know what we’re thinking.”
    â€œWe do well enough with our own gestures. And it ain’t like no one else will be able to talk to her, even if we teach her these signs.”
    â€œSure they will, some of them. I asked Mr. Lane about it. He said there’s a school in Connecticut—”
    â€œYou wanna send her away?” Cora spun around, nearly sloshing the bowl of stew she held. “Send away our baby? As if they’d even let a slave girl in?”
    â€œNo, that’s not…I don’t want to send her anywhere.” He pulled out his chair and sat, sucking in a deep breath. “I just meant to tell you that they have developed a universal system of signs there. They call it American Sign Language. They’re trying to get all the deaf folks in the country to use it so they can all talk to each other. It’s pretty close, I understand, to what Mr. Lane learned from his mother. They’ve got a book. We could get it, learn it. Teach it to her.”
    â€œA book.” Her tone said it all.
    Walker sighed. “With drawings, I bet, of the motions.”
    She slid his bowl onto the table and urged Elsie into her chair. “A book.”
    He picked up his spoon. “We could do it.”
    â€œWalker.” With a shake of her head, she turned back to the pot and ladled up a small portion. “Blow on this for her.”
    He took it, blew and stirred.
    Cora rubbed at the pain in her back, the same spot that always hurt her after a morning of cleaning. The one that often got so bad by night that she hobbled up the stairs to their rooms, whimpering in pain.
    â€œI just don’t see the point. I know you wanna talk to her, but we can do that on our own, with our own ways. Don’t need no book to show us how. Not with me who can’t read and you who say yourself you don’t learn well from paper and ink. You need visuals. Ain’t that what you said?”
    It was, and he did. But wasn’t it worth trying? “Mr. Lane would help.”
    â€œMr. Lane’s got his own life, his own family. How much time could he give us? An hour here and there? Wouldn’t do no good, honey.”
    He had the Culper business too, and the weight of the fractured nation upon his shoulders. But Walker couldn’t mention that to Cora, and wouldn’t anyway, as it hardly helped his point. “He taught it to his kids. Miss Julie taught it to us. I don’t remember much, but…”
    But Marietta would. She’d remember every gesture, every meaning. Every single lesson. She’d be able to glance at one of those books once, and it would be in her head forever.
    Cora turned back to him slowly, obviously knowing the direction of his thoughts. She plunked her bowl onto the table and eased into her chair, eyes glinting. “Don’t even suggest it.”
    â€œShe could help.”
    â€œI ain’t asking that woman for nothing— nothing . You understand? Maybe you could, you who don’t have to serve her each day, empty her slops, obey her every command, but I’m tellin’ you I won’t . And you better not neither.” She picked up her spoon and stabbed her stew with it.
    Walker tested Elsie’s and, finding it cool enough, slid it over to her with a smile. “But if she could help Elsie—”
    â€œIt wouldn’t help. And I won’t go beggin’.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t be begging. It would be…” He let his voice fade as pain burst through her eyes again, screwed up her face, and made her back arch. Maybe he should let it drop. The last thing Cora needed was more distress. That couldn’t be good for her or the baby. “You all right, honey?”
    â€œMm-hmm.” She stretched, and the discomfort eased from her face. She took another bite.