Owen's Daughter by Jo-Ann Mapson Page A

Margaret asked as she placed Sparrow in her carrier.
    Casey took hold of it with one hand and clasped Aspen’s hand in her other. “All right. Glory’s teaching me to knit.”
    Her gravelly voice was always a shock to Margaret. “Really? I love knitting. You should both come over sometime and we’ll have ourselves a stitch-and-bitch.”
    Casey laughed. “Thank you. We will.”
    One of the brothers who’d kidnapped her had slashed her neck. Margaret never asked, but she guessed such an act indicated they were tired of her and didn’t want her found alive and able to identify them. When she didn’t die, apparently the older of the two brothers took pity on her, and Casey, with courage Margaret wasn’t sure she herself could have summoned, survived. What could have ended her life had severely damaged her vocal cords.
    One of the kidnappers was dead, and the other one had recently been profiled on America’s Most Wanted . Someday, she prayed as Casey waved good-bye. Let him be found, and let the justice system extract seven years’ worth of life from him. It was only a start, but it would be something.
     
    That evening, Margaret was standing at the sink washing dishes, wondering how Joseph had taken Glory’s news. She knew the man well enough to be certain he would shed tears of happiness, but he would also worry. With her last pregnancy Glory had ended up confined to bed with eclampsia, and now, in addition to baby Sparrow, Casey and Aspen were living with them. Glory had told her about Casey’s nightmares. Sometimes the flashbacks of what she’d endured exhausted her for a couple of days, which left Glory caring for Aspen. If Glory was bedridden for this pregnancy, Joseph would have a lot to do at home while trying to get Reach for the Sky off the ground.
    Margaret decided she would start knitting a baby blanket. No, two of them. One blue and another yellow with pink flowers, because no matter what Glory thought, it might not be a boy. She’d make a list of casseroles, go over them with Glory, and then she’d bake them a loaf of bread every week. And cupcakes. Aspen loved cupcakes. Making them meals would be fun and would keep Margaret herself eating properly. Aspen was big on macaroni and cheese, but Margaret’s recipe sneaked in grated carrot and zucchini. Margaret wiped down the zinc counters and put the dishes away in the cream-colored cupboards with the black hinges. The farmhouse sink was chipped, the chrome fixtures worn to copper in places. Margaret would never change a thing about it. She heated up water for tea and was about to sit down with the new Robyn Carr novel, Moonlight Road , when the computer trilled, indicating someone was trying to Skype her. It had to be Peter calling, or his wife, Bonnie. It couldn’t be her sister, Nori, because she was in London.
    She sat at the computer on the small desk in the living room. She logged in and clicked on Skype. A fuzzy picture of her son showed up on the screen. He was wearing one of those woolen beanies kids favored these days. She clicked to change the view from a window to full screen. “Hi,” she said, signing as she said the word.
    Hi, Ma , he signed. How are you?
    Peter could still talk fairly clearly, having lost his hearing so late, but mainly he signed. He tried his best to fit into the deaf culture, but Margaret sensed there was always a bit of tension there. There was a huge rift that Margaret didn’t understand between those who were born deaf versus those who had lost their hearing. The bridge that could connect the two worlds had yet to be built.
    I’m good , she signed back. What’s up?
    OK I visit for spring break?
    Yes , she signed. Bonnie too?
    She watched the smile he put on his face. Not this time. Busy at work.
    Something wasn’t right. When will you arrive? she signed. Coming into Albuquerque or Santa Fe?
    Santa Fe. Probably tomorrow, OK? I’m flying standby.
    Tomorrow? That surprised her. Of course. Everything