Still, sign language was regional and varied even from state to state, so plenty of living, of experiences, were also necessary for a good interpreter—and to be able to live outside of the culture he’d grown up in.
Anyone giving you flack for it? Link asked, his mouth moving too. Probably so Dawson knew what they were talking about.
Mitch shook his head.Not so far. Things are pretty open here, though there are definitely people who think an implant is going against our culture. Others who don’t really care. And others who are pro-implants for various reasons. It’s just a consultation.
Yes, he’d added that last sentence for himself. To keep his own hopes and expectations in check. Linkrelayed the message to Dawson, and then he said,Want to see our tuxes for the wedding?
You have them already?
He and Misty were getting married in June, right before her assignment in Three Rivers ended. She’d then quit her job and move to Shiloh Ridge Ranch with Link. As far as Mitch knew, she wasn’t sure what she’d do from there, but Three Rivers had grown to about twenty thousand people now, and there were jobs to be had.
I tried mine on over the weekend, Link said. He tapped on his phone and brought up a picture. He turned it toward the camera, his mouth moving but not his hands.Not sure if you can see that.
It took a few seconds and some tilting of the phone, and then Mitch could see the midnight black tuxedo. Link had gripped the lapels with both hands, struck a pose, and wore a very serious, very dapper expression.
He laughed again, because Smiles had probably told him to stand like that. Link pulled the phone back and grinned too.All the boys are wearing them, he said.
Who’s all the boys?Mitch asked.
Everyone younger than you, Link said.Finn, Alex, Dawson, Danny. The groomsmen and the male cousins.
What about your daddy?
Regular suit, Link said. He grinned again.And you should see the stink your daddy is throwing over that.
Mitch could see it all, and he grinned.I should probably come visit before then.
Link sobered again and he only said one word:Yes.
Mitch nodded too, and then he said goodbye to Link and Dawson and let them end the call. He had some videos to grade for his class, and then his alarm would sound—a buzzy, vibrating thing that told him to walk Honor.
Then, he had to get over to the hearing dog academy and continue the training with the two dogs he currently worked with: Amaretto and Liberty.
Thankfully, Link hadn’t asked about Gillian, a woman Mitch had been out with a couple of times. She was hearing, but she knew sign language, and Mitch had settled into trying to figure out what and who he wanted in a partner. A spouse. Someone he could take home to Three Rivers and Shiloh Ridge Ranch, to the enormous family he belonged to.
In his heart of hearts, he saw himself with a hearing person, but it hadn’t worked out with Gillian. Mitch had another date set up with someone else—a deaf woman named Brindie from the college.
That wasn’t until the weekend, and Mitch had a lot to look forward to in the next several days. He reached for the pencil and jotted that down too. His therapist would be thrilled to find a positive thing among the negative this month, and Mitch smiled to himself as he put down the pencil and opened his university work.
He wasn’t as far along as Link and Dawson, nor Finn and Alex, but he didn’t need to be. He’d been assuredand reassured by his own feelings and plenty of people around him that he was right where he needed to be. He loved his job here, and he was learning so much.
Maybe Brindie would be a fit for him, and maybe she wouldn’t.
Maybe the cochlear implants would work out for him, and maybe they wouldn’t.
The point was, Mitch had options, and for the first time in over a year, he felt like he wasn’t drowning with every breath. He felt like he’d find exactly what—and who—he was looking for, as long as he didn’t quit searching.
So he wasn’t going to quit, plain and simple.
Chapter Twenty
Henry Marshall felt thrown back in time. Walking into the same huge classroom with stadium seating for the luck-of-the-draw moment when he may or may not be chosen for a position at Lone Star, the biggest and best boarding stable in the Texas Panhandle.
If Henry had any hope of doing his farrier apprenticeship somewhere besides Three Rivers, he had to be here. Had to jump through these hoops. Had to play this game.
He was tired of the rigmarole, that was for dang sure. Still, he’d put in his number, because Lone Star and his farrier academy had started a lottery system for how they chose cowboys to come work at their facility.
Henry had gotten a partial placement last summer, during which he’d learned a ton. He needed more practical experience, with the best farriers out there, andLone Star had two veteran farriers who’d been doing hoof and horse care for thirty-plus years each.