Page 6 of Prospect Year

It was early afternoon when Lola and Mia returned home to Angel Haven. And he was certain of three things. First, he was positive if not for Maeve insisting to get back to her baby, Ghost would have drawn out their lunch date into a dinner date. Second, he never wanted to babysit again. Again? Well, maybe he didn’t actually do the babysitting this time. Mia did. And she loved it. He was merely a bystander. But he knew without a doubt, he did not want to be responsible for all the things he witnessed Mia doing today. And that was the third thing. He was thankful for Mia. She jumped in like a pro and saved his ass.

Lola tightened the screws on the new switch plate he had replaced in the kitchen. He had remembered Maeve complaining that the light was not working properly and when they returned from Ghost’s, he decided to take care of it. It was nothing major, just as he had suspected. The light fixture was sound, so he investigated the switch, finding a loose wire. With a crack in the plate, he replaced it.

With nothing else in need of repair in the kitchen, he followed the faint hum of voices to find Amber and Ruby sat in the formal dining room with books spread over one end of the table. “Need anything else fixed?” he asked from the door.

Amber jerked her head toward him scrunching her face. “I don’t know,” she snapped.

“Ruby?” he asked, turning his attention toward Nova’s old lady.

“Not that I can recall. But then I rarely leave the first floor,” she told him.

“No problem.” He walked around the room taking note of outlets and switches and anything that caught his eye that could possibly need maintenance. Without a word, he strolled to the next room and the next of the main floor, ending up in the office. The place was immaculate and well maintained.

He headed for the stairs. Recalling the second floor held only bedrooms. There should be no problems here unless it is in one of the girls’ room, and they haven’t complained. On to the next level. As he stepped into the wide-open space of the third floor, he paused to take in the view. Nearly the entire floor was one room. A mirrored wall to the right hosted a bar anchored to it, one like he had only seen in movies that dancers used. Rolled yoga mats stood on end in a basket in one corner. Gym equipment filled a spot near the back wall. Straight across from where he stood were a couple tables with shelves lining the wall past them. It appeared to be a craft area or artist workspace with easels and canvases leaning against the wall.

Turning to the wall next to him, he spotted ropes attached to hooks. He eased closer. They were braided together in an unusual manner. Ah, a photo pinned to the wall. He leaned in. DIY macramé hanging chair directions. He glanced back toward the creation in progress. Impressive.

Turning toward the only wall displaying doors, he walked to the one in the corner nearest the landing. He eased it open and examined the half bath. Everything in it seemed to be in working order. Moving to the door positioned midway of that same wall, he admired the old movie posters, framed and hanging on either side of the door. Pushing it open, he flipped the lights on and found himself in a mini movie theater. He smiled to himself. Nice. He strolled past the rows of cushioned seats to a divider sectioning off a small part behind the viewing area. He ran a hand over the projector standing in the center of the sectioned off room. Two stride and he was face to face with stacks of round metal containers, each labeled with various movie titles. London was right when she said this place had it all.

He turned away and headed for the tall black cloth draped over an object as tall as him. He lifted the cloth and chuckled, dropping it back into place. Every movie theater needs a popcorn machine.

Pulling the door closed, and turning to leave, he was stopped in his tracks. Across the room, Mia was dragging a stool to what he now knew to be swing chairs in progress.

She jerked toward him throwing her palm to her chest.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She mouthed the words, “It’s okay.”

“So, you did all this?” He pointed to the hook holding a mass of knotted ropes.

She nodded, lifting her shoulders and throwing her arms wide.

“You have nothing else to do?”

Slowly, her head swung side to side. She then pointed to the rope project, put her palms together, opening them like a book, then tapped the side of her head.

He cocked his head, thinking. “Work on this or read?”

She nodded and repeated the book motion again, then tilted her head as if thinking.

“Read. Think about it. Learn.”

Excitement filled her eyes.

“Learn? Study?” he guessed. “What are you studying?”

Immediately, her hands and fingers began dancing in the air.

“Hang on.” He stopped her. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Her grin grew and slowly, she told him with gestures and her lips.

“I’m.” He followed intently, saying what she couldn’t. “You. You’re studying to speak. Hands.” He smiled and leaned a shoulder against the wall tucking his thumbs into his pockets. “You’re learning sign language.”

Excitement filled her eyes as she threw up both thumbs for confirmation.

“So, you haven’t always been unable to speak.” He stated his understanding rather than asked.

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