Mary Carter - My Sisters Voice

Books by Mary Carter

SHELL TAKE IT
ACCIDENTALLY ENGAGED
SUNNYSIDE BLUES
MY SISTERS VOICE

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

My Sisters Voice

Mary Carter

KENSINGTON BOOKS

www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

To my friends, colleagues, and teachers in the Deaf Community. This book is for you.

The characters in this book are a work of fiction and are not intended to represent the views of any individual, organization, or community.

Acknowledgments

Id like to thank Lynne for encouraging me to do a book about interpreting, Arnine for giving me tips, and Terri for allowing me to use one of her stories.

Id like to thank Evan Marshall for reading a draft and sharing his thoughts, and Id like to thank my editor, John Scognamiglio, for his endless support, encouragement, advice, feedback, and conversation.

Lastly, Id like to thank all the Deaf people, interpreters, teachers, students, and agencies Ive worked with over the years. This book is fiction; their real-life stories could fill entire libraries shelved with Kindles. Heres to you.

Chapter 1

I t was here, in the City of Brotherly Love, at twenty-eight years of age, that Lacey Gears first discovered she had a sister. An identical twin. Of course it wasnt true. A joke, a hoax, a prank. As if . It was completely ridiculous, and although she of all people appreciated a good Gotcha! she didnt have time for games today. She had to buy an anniversary gift for her boyfriend, Alan, then race off to paint a chubby Chihuahua and its anorexic owner. An identical twin. Funny, ha-ha.

The hoax came by way of her red mailbox. She wasnt going to open the mail; she usually waited until the end of the day to sift through it, preferably with a glass of wine, for a single bill could depress her all day long. But as she jogged down her front steps, she caught sight of the mailman wheeling his pregnant bag down the sidewalk. He had just passed her house when he caught her eye. He made a dramatic stop, and waved his arms at her as if she were an airbus coming in for a landing instead of a 56 slip of a girl. He jabbed his finger at her mailbox, then patted his large stomach, and then once again jabbed his finger at her mailbox with an exaggerated wag of his head and a silly smile. Lacey had to laugh. She gave him a slight shrug, held her hands out like Can-I-help-it-if-Im-so-popular?

He winked, blew her a kiss, and then pointed at her mailbox again. She caught his kiss, pretended to swoon, and blew him a kiss of his own. By now they had an unappreciative audience. The woman who lived next door was standing in the middle of her walkway, hands on hips, glaring at the mailman. She was a large white woman in a small red bathrobe. He gave Lacey one last wave, one last jab at the mailbox. Oh, why not. If it would make him happy, she could spare a few seconds to open it. Lacey waved good-bye to him and hello to the woman in the red bathrobe. Only one wave was returned. She turned her attention to the mailbox.

He wasnt kidding. It was stuffed. She had to use both hands to get a grip on it, and exert considerable effort. She managed to yank out the entire pile, but she moved too fast, causing the precarious mound to shift and slide through her hands. As the mail swan-dived to the steps, she bent at the knees and lowered herself, as if shed rather let it take her down than give up. She finally got a rein on the loose bits and, nervous she was wasting time, she began to flip through the days offerings.

Bills: AT&T, Time Warner. Catalogues: Macys, Target, Gallaudet University. Advertisements: Chow Chows Chinese Restaurant, 20 percent off carpet cleaning, Jiffy Lube. Waste of time. Lacey stuffed the mail back in the box, and was about to close the lid when she spotted a white envelope sticking out of one of the catalogues. Shed almost missed it. She pulled it out and stared at it.

No address, no stamp, no postmark. Just her name typed across the front, looking as if it had been pecked out on a typewriter from the Jurassic period. An anonymous letter with its mouth taped shut, a ransom note. For a split second she was worried someone had kidnapped her dog. She glanced up at her bedroom window, and to her relief spotted her puggle, Rookie. His nose was smashed up against the windowpane shed spent hours cleaning, drool running down and forming Spittle Lake, brown eyes pleading: How can you leave me? She air-kissed her dog an obscene number of times, then once again turned her attention back to the envelope.

Lacey Gears

Mysterious letter in hand, she jogged down the steps to the curb where her Harley Sportster 883 was parked, slung her leg over her motorcycle, and perched comfortably in the custom-made leather seat. She soothed herself in her fun-house reflection elongated in the bikes polished chrome, detailed in Red Hot Sunglo and Smokey Gold. A feeling of peace settled over her. When she was on her bike she felt sexy and confident, something every woman deserved to feel. Some days she wished she could figure out how to stay on it 24/7.

Shed bought the bike after selling her first piece of abstract art, a kaleidoscope of hands coming together in slow motion, bought by PSD, the Pennsylvania School for the Deaf, where as a little girl Lacey had longed to go. At least a piece of her was there now, hanging on the walls as a reminder to Deaf children that they could be anything, achieve anything, do everything but hear. It sold for a decent amount of money, leaving her feeling giddy and slightly guilty as if she had gotten away with something. She bought the Harley as quick as she could, in case they turned around and asked for the money back. Alan said it was proof she could stop painting pet-and-owner portraits and focus solely on what she wanted to paint. But despite her luck with the one sale, the only paintings she was doing besides the portraits were ones she didnt want to share with the world. Not just yet. And for the most part, she liked her job. She had to admit, she usually liked the pets a little more than the people, but even most of them werent so bad. She turned her attention back to the envelope, peeled the edge up, and slid her finger across the inside top. The envelope sliced into her finger, cutting a thin line across her delicate skin. A drop of blood sprouted and seeped onto the envelope. She jerked her hand back as a slip of white paper slid out of the envelope like an escaped prisoner and fluttered to the ground.

Lacey hopped off the bike and chased the paper down the sidewalk. It stayed just enough ahead of her to make her look like an idiot chasing it. A slight breeze picked it up and lifted it into the air. It hovered midstream, like a mini magic carpet. Make a wish, Lacey thought. She reached out and caught it before it sank to the ground. After all this fuss, it had better be good.

You have a twin sister. Her name is
Monica. Go to Benjamin Books. Look at
the poster in the window.

Lacey looked up the street, convinced the mailman was standing by with another wink and a laugh. He wasnt. He was way up the street, his cart parked in the middle of the sidewalk, his bag now slung over his shoulder, thwapping into the side of his leg with each long stride he made. Bathrobe woman was nowhere in sight either. For all Lacey knew, she only came out once a day to wither away civil servicemen with a single look.

You have a twin sister....

Robert, it had to be her best friend, Robert, the terminal jokester. Or maybe it was Alan. He probably knew she was off to buy him an anniversary gift and he was offering a not-so-subtle hint that he wanted a book. Benjamin Books was in Old City, where she happened to mention she was going shopping. But Alan knew she usually brought in the mail in the evenings, making it too late to get his hint. No, it had to be Robert. He was the actor, the comedian. She should text him. Evil twin, ha, ha, ha! Shed do it later, she had to get going. She shoved the letter in her jacket and secured her helmet. Her first client would kill her if she was late again, giving her less than two hours to find Alans gift.

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