The Ballerina's Stand (4 page)

His eyes shone bright, blue and light. He looked like the opposite of the other, austere faces. He looked happy.

Maybe...maybe...this was real.

She swallowed, and before she could stop herself, she saved both images to the hard drive.

They were the only pictures she had of anyone related to her by blood. Her only family photos.

She turned off the computer, not wanting to look anymore. A faded image filled her mind as she climbed the stairs to her room. Her mother's picture, the only one she'd had, captured in a cheap fake-brass frame, had vanished in one of the many moves between foster homes.

Her mother's image had faded in Lauren's mind with time. The wispy memories were vague now. She wished the internet could find her mother, but Rachel Ramsey had vanished long before there was an internet to capture pictures, words, lives.

She'd made it halfway up the stairs when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Who was calling so late? Her heart hammered in her chest as she pulled up the screen.

Dylan Bishop. His words appeared and she froze.
I'm in jail. Help me.
An address she recognized as the courthouse flashed on a second message.

Her heart sank and she turned back around, hurrying down the stairs. What had happened? Her mind filled with images of the boy, in a cell, no one understanding his sign, no one bothering to realize he was deaf. She took a deep breath and texted for a cab.

Please, please hurry.
She had to purposefully stop her fingers from moving in the flow of the words.

The bright yellow cab pulled up, and she hastily ran to greet it, leaving her quiet home and newfound images behind. She had no time for herself. Dylan and his sister, Tina, needed her. That was more important.

* * *

J
ASON
STARED
AT
the computer screen. For once, he understood what all of his clients meant when they referred to legal gobbledygook. The pages on the screen looked like that to him right now.

His concentration was off. It had been for days, ever since visiting Lauren Ramsey. Foolishly, he'd believed that Haymaker had given him full disclosure. Standing there in the rain, he'd felt like an idiot as she'd tried to explain her situation using sign language.

Vague memories of having to learn the finger alphabet in something like fourth grade nagged at him. Fat lot of good that had done him. He couldn't remember a damned thing.

In anticipation of her coming in to the office, he'd found a sign language interpreting service. Their number was on a sticky note on the frame of his monitor. He'd also gotten online and downloaded a copy of that long-forgotten alphabet.

He'd tried to make his fingers remember even simple letters. He had the skill level of a three-year-old, and for a lawyer who thought he had a fairly quick mind, who prided himself on his communication skills, that was very...daunting.

But she hadn't come in, called or emailed. Nothing. He'd wrestled with the decision of whether to contact her again. He wouldn't normally, but then he didn't normally go to people's homes, either. He'd done that at Pal's request.

He stared at the folder on his desk. He'd give it to his assistant, Susan. Have her send a follow-up note to Lauren and call the Dallas firm for the rest of the info. Decision made, he forced himself to turn back to the computer and the briefs he needed to finish.

“I don't understand you.” He heard Susan's voice come from outside his office. “I still don't understand you,” she said a bit louder this time. Her response was the closest thing he'd ever heard to a frustrated growl from her. What the heck?

He stepped to the office door and leaned out. Shocked, he stared at Lauren who stood in front of Susan's desk, a tall, African American kid standing behind her. The boy's anger practically singed the room, but he just stood there. Glaring.

Jason watched, enthralled once again as Lauren's fingers and hands flew. He didn't understand any of it. She was too agitated, too fast for his meager skills.

Susan's voice broke through the haze of his mind as she practically yelled “I don't understand you.” He had to save her and Lauren from this mess.

“Susan, it's okay.” He put a hand on Susan's shoulder and smiled at her. It wasn't her fault. She just didn't know sign language and didn't have the skills to automatically recognize a hearing-impaired person. He hadn't the first time he'd met Lauren, either. The yelling wasn't appropriate, though.

“But, Mr. Hawkins, she doesn't have an appointment,” Susan argued.

Jason looked over at Lauren and held up his hand, hoping she'd understand his makeshift sign for wait a minute. He didn't want her to leave.

“I know,” he soothed Susan. “But I don't have any appointments this afternoon. I'll take this. Why don't you head over to the coffee shop next door? I'll buy.” He handed her a couple of bills and hustled her out of the office. She frowned, looking at the kid and Lauren as if she needed to protect Jason.

Once Susan was gone, he turned back to Lauren and the boy. He didn't want Susan there for several reasons, the least of which was her yelling. He was reluctant to step out of his comfort zone and show anyone at the firm that he was trying to figure out sign language.

Facing Lauren, he very slowly forced his fingers to form the letters of her name. He didn't know any full words, and his mind scrambled wondering how to communicate with her. He pointed at himself and formed the letters o-f-f-i-c-e. He didn't know the sign for follow me, but he used the polite bow and wave toward his door.

He met her gaze and saw her eyes widen. Her face was so incredibly expressive. Surprise and pleasure bloomed over her features. He was so damned pleased with himself, he had to shake himself out of it. She made a sign in response that could have been anything from thank you to go to hell, for all he knew. She turned to the boy and pointed him toward the office. Jason breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Her fingers said so many things Jason couldn't understand, and Jason quickly realized the boy was deaf as well.

Lauren frowned and grimaced, then changed her features so quickly. He saw now that her features were a part of the signing. Like a bell going off in his mind, some things became very clear. What he was seeing now weren't her emotions. Her body language was a part of her signing—her communication. She was talking with everything she had to the boy. She extended her arm and pointed again to the office. The frown she gave the boy reflected her displeasure with him.

Jason kept staring at her, fascinated. His heart picked up pace. Maybe he could learn how to do this.

He wasn't stupid enough to think it would be easy, or quick. He had to get through this meeting, and he couldn't conduct it all spelling out each word. Billing by the hour, he'd be the most expensive lawyer in history. He'd also drive himself nuts.

He knew from his initial call to the interpreter that they needed a minimum of an hour's notice. So what the heck was he going to do? He started hunting for a legal pad.

The computer he'd been so frustrated with earlier seemed to glow as it sat there. He smiled. Then, hurrying behind the desk, he waved Lauren and the boy into the two chairs facing him.

Jason didn't have to know sign to read this kid. He did not want to sit or even be here, but for some reason, Lauren had dragged him down here.

Jason cleared the screen and pulled up a blank word processing document. He turned the monitor toward them and typed his first question.
Hello, Lauren. What can I do for you today?
God, it sounded so formal, but he wasn't good on the fly. He was better if he could analyze every word a zillion times.

Lauren looked at the boy and after he nodded, she reached for the keyboard. She typed,
This is Dylan. He needs a lawyer or he's going back to jail. Can you help us?

Whoa. That came out of left field. Jason took the keyboard back.
Hello, Dylan. Nice to meet you. I don't think I can help. I'm not that kind of lawyer.

She read and frowned.
We don't know any other lawyers. Please?

The look on her face, thick with pleading was his downfall.

I can try. That's all I can promise. Tell me what happened.
Maybe if he got the info, he could point them in the right direction.

Did he really want to get involved? When Jason looked at Lauren, the worry on her face answered him. There was no turning back.

She didn't take the keyboard this time, but pushed it toward the boy and crossed her arms. Waiting. Glaring. The boy glared back. Lauren uncrossed her arms and started to sign. Jason caught only a letter here and there. But he read her emotions.

Anger. Pain. Worry.

The boy was nearly as stubborn. He didn't move. Until she slowly shook her head and spelled a word. Jason stared, concentrating on her fingers, catching only a few letters.

But whatever she'd said, it got through to the boy. His face fell and he reached for the keyboard. Reluctantly he started typing.

Jason leaned back in his chair, waiting, watching both the boy and Lauren.

There was no self-satisfied smirk on her face, but the look in her eyes was a whole different matter. She was good. She'd played the kid—and him—well.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HE
BOY
KEPT
typing and Jason sat back and let him. Even if Dylan was spewing anger, it would give Jason a sense of the situation.

It also gave Jason the opportunity to take a minute to study Lauren.

Now that he'd gotten over that initial shock of not being able to communicate with her, Jason was even more impressed and intrigued by her.

He didn't stare openly at her—he did it out of the corner of his eye. The ballerina he'd seen on that stage wasn't here today. And though the woman before him was equally as beautiful, she wasn't as intimidating and awe-inspiring. More human. Approachable.

Lauren had her hair pulled back into a high, flowing ponytail. The style accentuated her smooth features and the long curve of her neck. She was sitting back as well, waiting and watching the boy.

Finally, Dylan leaned back, pushing the monitor just enough to turn it toward Lauren, not Jason—sending quite the attitudinal message.

When Lauren went to turn the monitor toward Jason, he shook his head and stood, walking around the desk to stand behind her so they could read it together.

The boy had typed more than Jason had expected. Several paragraphs filled the screen. After moving the mouse over to where she could reach it and indicating she should take control, Jason started to read.

There was no opening. All the sentences were direct. Short. He'd followed someone named Tina. Jason pointed at the name and frowned. He wished he knew the sign to ask a question.

“Who?” he asked in reflex.

Lauren, who had been looking at him, moved her lips into a very pretty near pucker, a silent imitation of the actual word. She drew the shape of a question mark in the air with a long slender finger.

“My sister,” Dylan said in very halted speech. His words surprised Jason. He'd assumed he didn't speak either, like Lauren. He wondered why he hadn't spoken earlier. Jason noticed Dylan's hands moved in unison with his words, as if the two were tied together.

Fascinated, Jason tore his gaze back to the screen. Lauren turned as well. The autocorrect had made several words not make sense. Jason leaned closer, hoping to decipher them without having to ask.

Something sweet and soft wafted around him. The scent of Lauren's shampoo or perfume. He liked it. Liked it a lot. He had to shake his head in order to clear it and concentrate on the information.

Tina had snuck out of the house, despite their foster parents' warnings that they'd consider moving her if she did that again. Dylan had followed her, hoping to get her back home before they found out.

Unfortunately, she didn't want to go back, and was hoping to get kicked out. Dylan wasn't sure they'd end up together if that happened. She'd said she didn't care and that had made him angry. He'd grabbed her and tried to drag her home.

Unfortunately, a tall male dragging a kicking and screaming young girl down the street was a bit obvious. The cops had hauled them both in, not sure what was happening.

Jason pointed at Tina's name again. “How old is Tina?” he asked Lauren, who watched his lips closely, as he spoke. She nodded, but didn't immediately look away. And when she did, her gaze met his, holding for an instant. An instant that shot heat through him. He swallowed and tried to focus on the boy.

“Two years younger than me. Thirteen,” Dylan answered in sign and speech.

Lauren's hands moved quickly, making the boy laugh. “Lauren says, going on thirty.”

“Ah.” Jason got the gist. A young, probably just blossoming, pretty girl if she had the same smooth features as her brother, wanting to taste freedom. Wanting out of a foster home.

Jason had read the whole report and still had several questions. He reached for the keyboard, and typed. “Where are your parents?” He hated asking, but it was part of the whole equation.

“Mom's dead.” The boy's eyes shone for an instant, but he quickly recovered as if he'd learned to shut it off fast. “Dad's got another five years. Armed robbery.”

Lovely. Jason wondered which had happened first. Another whiff of perfume made him glance over at Lauren. What she was thinking? He was usually good at reading people, but she was tough. Partially because there was a bit of playacting in her signing, an emphasis for the words' sake. Right now, she was frowning. And since her hands weren't moving, he was pretty sure that was her true displeasure.

“How do you know Lauren?” he typed.

“She's my teacher.”

“Teacher?” After pulling back, he looked back and forth from Dylan to Lauren. “Ballet?”

Dylan nodded, and his face, which was much easier to read, glowed with defensiveness. Jason understood that. The kid had probably had to defend himself many times, to many people.

“Is he any good?” He pointed at Lauren after the words appeared on the screen. “Like you?”

She fought the smile, but not before he saw it. She nodded and signed something. Dylan grinned. “She says I'm better.”

Whether that was true or not, Jason couldn't miss the fondness in her eyes and the pride she let shine on the boy.

Lauren signed as Dylan nodded. “She wants to know if you're a patron of ballet. Have you seen her perform?”

“Once.” Jason's gaze met hers and the wonder of that night returned. Time stretched out.

Needing a bit of distance from Lauren and the feeling she stirred, Jason paced around his desk and went to the windows to stare out at the hustle and bustle of the city far below. What the hell must it be like to live in foster care in LA?

He'd lost his father when he was young, but he'd had his mother, and older siblings who were
definitely
stand-in parents.

He couldn't imagine being practically alone in the world as a kid. In the reflection in the window, he saw Lauren and Dylan signing back and forth. For a second he felt excluded, which made him wince. He wondered how many times they'd felt like that on a day-to-day basis.

“Okay.” He faced Lauren so she could read his words. Watching closely, he hoped he could tell if she understood. “I don't do criminal law.” When she frowned, he lifted a hand. “I have colleagues here who do. Let me do some research.” He pulled out a card and grabbed a pen. He wrote on the back.
Bring your foster parents with you. Come back and I'll help.
He added his signature so they'd know it was legit.

He handed the card to the boy, which brought a smile to his young face. He nodded and made a gesture cupping his hand from his jaw to his chest. “Thank you,” he said in accompaniment.

Then Jason faced Lauren. She was making the same gesture and smiling at Dylan. She signed quickly and Dylan answered, then faced Jason again. “She thinks my foster parents will be glad.”

Jason lifted his hand and, for one last question, he used his rough finger spelling. “Tina?” He made the question mark in the air as he'd seen Lauren do earlier.

The boy's face fell. “She's mad at me. But she came home. Should she come?”

Jason slowly nodded, a look of what he hoped was resoluteness on his face. Lauren signed. “We'll try,” Dylan said.

That's all he could ask. As they stood and turned to leave, Jason took a step and reached out to touch Lauren's arm. She looked back with a questioning frown. Jason tapped her file on the desk and held it up. “We need to discuss your inheritance.”

She stared at the file. She put her hands together, then moved one forward in front of the other an inch or two.

“She says later,” Dylan explained.

Lauren's hands moved quickly again, and Jason's frustration returned.

“What?” Jason asked.

Dylan's movements in sign were fluid, perfectly in sync with his words. “She says if you keep me out of jail, she'll consider it.”

That was it? Even he could read the message in her body language—she wasn't asking him. She was telling.

Reluctantly, Jason nodded and tried to imitate her gesture for later, then slowly created
O
-
K
. He must have been close, because she smiled and the boy laughed.

Jason walked with them to the elevator, feeling strange not speaking the normal, polite conversation his mother had beat into his thick skull, but they seemed comfortable.

The metal doors whooshed open to reveal a startled Susan, a cup of coffee in one hand and cardboard cup holder with three paper cups nestled tightly in the other. “Oh.” She stared at them.

“For us?” Dylan asked, his eyes bright.

“Hot chocolate for you, young man,” Susan said, not bothering to notice they couldn't hear her. She pulled one cup out, skillfully not spilling anything, and handed it to the boy. She turned to Lauren with a frightened look on her face, as if she knew she'd screwed up earlier, but didn't know how to not do it again. With a tentative smile, she offered the coffees.

Not to be outdone, Lauren peered at the cups and chose one, making that same scooping gesture Jason now knew meant “thank you.” She took a sip of the sweet drink, and Jason found his gaze glued to her slim throat as she swallowed.

Susan cleared her throat.

“Uh, yes. Thanks, Susan,” Jason said.

Lauren and Dylan stepped into the elevator and waved as the doors closed. Jason fought the urge to jump in behind them.

He didn't say a word, simply grabbed the last coffee and headed back to his desk. He did
not
want to know what Susan was thinking.

“New client?” She sipped her own drink as she stood in the doorway.

“Uh, sort of. She's not new. The boy is.”

“Uh, what kind of business does he own?”

Jason looked up at her, not appreciating the speculation sparking in the woman's eyes. “It's a different type of case.”

“Really?”

He wasn't explaining himself, certainly not until he understood what the hell he'd gotten himself into. “Check out sign language classes for me, would you?”

She actually looked surprised. He glared at her, not liking what was most likely going through her head, though it was probably fairly accurate.

“And sign us both up.” Jason sat down at his desk and rearranged the computer setup, trying and failing to put his world back to the way it had been before Lauren Ramsey had walked in.

* * *

T
HE
ELEVATOR
'
S
MOVEMENT
was smooth, and, before Lauren knew it, they were down on the main floor in the shiny marble and chrome lobby. Dozens of people passed, coming and going. The revolving door never stopped.

Outside, the day was warm, the sky clear. She sipped her coffee, walking with Dylan toward the bus stop.

There was something different about that man, Jason Hawkins. Lauren couldn't quite put her finger on it, and the fact that she couldn't peg it, bothered her.

Growing up as she had, in foster care, in rough neighborhoods early on, she'd had to learn to read people. Even once she'd gone to live with Maxine, she'd maintained and honed that skill.

The rich were no less predatory than the poor. They just looked prettier doing it.

But Jason Hawkins wasn't like anyone she'd ever met before.

His office was high-end, chrome and glass, with polish written all over it. But back on the credenza, she'd spied a photo frame of over a half dozen people, all smiling, looking like family. His family.

Between the frame and his law school diploma had sat a belt buckle. One of those big, shiny Western ones.

She'd wondered if it was his, or someone else's. And what was it for? It had caught her eye, and her curiosity.

She'd had the “joy” of meeting an endless stream of lawyers, judges and social workers in her childhood. Maybe as a kid she'd had a skewed view. But the few lawyers she'd come across as an adult hadn't changed her harsh impressions.

Until today.

Jason had paid attention to both her and Dylan. The fact that he'd figured out how to communicate effectively with them both surprised and pleased her. Everyone else used an interpreter or dismissed her.

He'd made her feel like she was just like everyone else.

She stopped, and Dylan, who'd been following her, nearly ran into her.

“What's up?” he asked, trying to ask and balance his drink.

She shook her head, not really able to explain. She glanced back at the building they'd just left and frowned.

Dylan tapped her arm and pointed to the street. The bus was coming. They had to hurry the last block or wait another hour for the next one. Dylan broke into a run and while she didn't join him, she did hasten her steps, as much to get away from her own confusing thoughts as to catch the bus.

* * *

A
FTER
L
AUREN
AND
Dylan left, Jason stood at the windows behind his desk, staring at the street below. He shouldn't be able to make out individuals from up here, but he saw Lauren clearly. Her copper-gold hair bounced in the sun as she hurried behind Dylan toward the bus stop.

Jason frowned. Why was she riding the bus? One of the world's prima ballerinas who surely rode in limos and private jets on a regular basis, was catching the bus in downtown Los Angeles?

He watched until she disappeared inside the bus, and then continued to watch until the bus turned around the corner and vanished between the next street's skyscrapers. Shaking his head, he turned back to his desk. He had work to do.

“I'm heading home, boss.” Susan spoke from the doorway and Jason looked up to see her standing there, her purse over her shoulder, jacket over her arm and a scowl on her face. He really wished she'd smile more.

“See you tomorrow.” He lifted a hand and pretended he was focusing on the screen.

“You can't fool me,” she said. “You're signed up for the sign language classes, by the way. They start on Thursday. 7:00 p.m. At the Y.” She spun around, and he listened as the even tone of her heels echoed through the empty office.