Page 11 of Signed With Love

Can I drive you home? His signing is more confident this time. Not fluid yet, but considering he’s learning in such a short time just for me makes my heart skip a beat.

Yes. Thank you.

He turns and points at his Jeep. When we get to the back, he tips his head toward my bag. His hand is extended to me, the request in his eyes. There aren’t many people who communicate so well with their bodies. Jamison is one who does. And he’s a helper.

I don’t need help, so I open the back and toss my bag in myself. He smiles and nods. My point made. Perhaps I’m as easy to read as he is for me. I’m a bit strong-willed and will keep him on his toes. I like the balance that forms between us.

Jamison walks to the passenger door and holds it open. I walk to the driver’s side and open the door myself.

He gives me a smirk and a headshake. You’re trouble, he signs.

You want me to drive? I raise my brows and tilt my head. I can’t contain the smile when he hops inside and shuts his passenger door. I climb into the driver’s seat. My eyes widen more when he passes the keys over. He really does trust me enough to let me drive his Jeep.

Jamison gets comfortable and lounges out. He’s a big man, broad and built like he’s always on the move. His hair is long, rugged, and wild. His jaw is covered in that same blondish-brown hair. It’s not so thick I can’t make out his lips from this angle. They twitch, then lift at the corner. They beg me to kiss them, but I don’t have the courage.

When I glance up and meet his eyes, he’s watching me. A wave of heat soars through my body. His eyes are darker, like a wicked forest at night. I gasp as a tremor wracks my body. I’ve never felt something so intense before.

I close my eyes, steady my breathing, and lean away. The connection is broken when I open my eyes again. His eyes never leave me during the entire drive to my parents’ house. I put the car in park and turn his way.

Thanks for the ride. You didn’t have to pick me up, I sign, then jump out of the Jeep and walk to the back to grab my stuff. I also can’t believe my father told him when I would arrive. He has a real soft spot for Jamison, that’s for sure.

Anytime. Your mom told me when you arrived, he signs, then grabs my bag from the back and hands it over before I have a chance myself. I debate inviting him inside, but I don’t, and bite my lip instead. Apparently, my mother is just as interested in our budding friendship.

I’ll see you tomorrow? he asks.

What time? I tug hard on the strap of my bag as I secure it on my hip. My heart beats so hard I hide my shaky hands the moment I point to my wrist and ask my question.

Six?

I agree and wave goodbye, then turn to head inside. With one more glance over my shoulder, I find Jamison watching me walk into my parents’ home. He gives one more wave goodbye, then climbs into his car to make the short drive to his place. I shut the door behind me and unload my bags in the entryway. When I step into the living room, my smile immediately falls. What the hell?

My father’s wave catches my attention as my eyes sweep across the messy living room. Large piles of white survey papers cover every inch of the space.

What is all of this? I ask, my brow lowering and jaw clenching.

It’s the survey papers Daisy found from the Hogan Ciphers, he signs, then lifts one to show it off, the smile spreading across his face.

That’s a hoax! Every treasure hunter has heard of the Hogan Ciphers and the bounty they apparently are hiding. After several hunters went searching through the Copper River Valley and turned up empty-handed, most assumed it’s a hoax. I spent many years researching stories and taking on expeditions in search of hidden gems with Mom, Dad, and Maddie. This is one even we hadn’t believed.

Maybe, but how fun is this? He waves me over with a flourish of his hand. It all coincides with the maps and journals too. Maybe Daisy found something up there.

I wade through the piles of once-rolled-up land survey papers covering the living room coffee table. Oftentimes, you’ll find an old treasure hunter who knows a thing or two about properly marking the land when they do excavations. Seems like Daisy did.

Who is Daisy? I ask.

Jamison’s mom. She passed away a few years ago.

She’s dead? My face falls. He hadn’t told me that in our letters.

Dad gives me a solemn nod, then points to one of the maps for me to scan over. It details flight plans over the valley. Daisy tried to find the Hogan Ciphers and had pages upon pages of research here. I start to wonder if she actually succeeded or not. It’s been a while since I’ve researched with Dad like this.

I glance at Dad. He digs out a red leather-bound journal, opening it to a passage. The feminine script stares back. This must be Daisy’s too. Jamison is entertaining my father with old and well-loved treasures from his late mother. I settle on the couch and start reviewing the journals and maps, sharing the interesting things I find.

The sun’s rays have long since moved across the horizon and flood the room in a dark orange by the time Mom walks into the living room. Steaming bowls of soup are in her hands. The clam chowder scent floods the room. Jamison was right; Mom is happy when Dad is busy and distracted.

Thank you, I sign to her before grabbing my bowl and returning to the journal entry I was reading over. Dad is going over the old maps and coinciding with the land surveys as I relay the flight patterns Daisy took and what notes she made in her journal. We haven’t done this since we lost Maddie because I’ve been too caught up with life to bother.

The light in my father’s eyes confirms he’s missed it. So have I. My mother joins in, and the thrill of research takes over us all.

---