Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Teglin
Title: To Hear, To See, To Touch - A Girllove Romance
Keywords: Mg, Rom, Pedo, Cons
Part: 2, Chapter 1
This girllove romance is totally fictional.  If you are under age 18, or

the concept of a man/girl relationship offends you, don't read further.

   Copyright 2012 by Teglin.  You may freely copy this girllove romance and
distribute it.  Please have the courtesy not to alter it in any way.

   Chapter 1

   The earth may have stopped spinning on its axis.  The sun may have
paused in its passage across the sky.  For me, time stood still.

   There was nothing.

   There was no one.

   But Her.

   Her head, turned and pressed flat against my chest.  Her almost
weightless form, held close within my arms.  Soft stray filaments of her
raggedly cut hair fluttered in the breeze and brushed my chin.  I supported
her with my right hand and forearm under her bottom, my left against her
back.  I felt her legs, at one moment dangling loosely, the next pulled up
high as she attempted to lock them around me.  She moved within my arms,
ever seeming to seek to bury herself more deeply within my embrace.  As she
nuzzled her head against me, I slowly, tentatively, let my left hand slip
up across her narrow back, my fingers molding to the curve of her delicate
shoulder, then up to graze across her cheek.  She did not pull away from my
touch, as I cupped my palm and fingers along the length of the cloth that
wrapped around her head, covering her eyes.  Unsure whether the cloth hid
more raw blisters, I did not press too hard - just enough to show her that
I felt her against my chest, that I welcomed her there - just enough to
prove to myself that the wonder of her being was not merely a figment of my
dreams.

   I was so attuned to her touch that I felt the the contours of her ear
resting against me.  She seemed to burrow the side of her head deeper into
the fabric of my shirt, answering my reassuring caress, and I knew she
would hear the pounding of my heart, beating so hard.  For the first time
in my life it raced in response to someone who seemed to want me.

   I had never before held a girl, nor even touched one.  Of all the
newborn sensations that her body was imparting to me, the overwhelming one
was of her very being.  She was so soft wherever I felt her, so tender, so
delicate, so ... everything GIRL that I had always imagined!  But she was
so much more ... she was made of things that I had never conceived of
before.  I may have considered myself a learned man, but in this, I had
been totally ignorant - and selfish - till this moment.  This girl was no
image on a postcard.  She was no object that I might admire on a
playground, and from a distance.  She was a FORCE!  She was animated with
wants and hopes and fears and needs.  I might have imagined in my dreams
that if I ever had a chance to be with a girl, that she would fulfill my
every need - oh, but now ... I realized that I was formed instead to meet
HER needs.  It thrilled me!  I would willingly hold this girl, and feel her
and touch her and experience her, forever, and I would willingly serve her
forever.

   Looking down to either side of her head, I saw that her little hands dug
into the fabric of my shirt, twisting into it as if she sought ever more
assurance of a secure hold.  I felt her right hand gripping so deep and
desperately that my chest hairs were caught in her grasp.  I would have
endured that pain for as long as it took to make her certain that I would
never let her go.  I COULD endure any pain to be her stalwart support in
every moment to come in her life.

   The sight and smell of the blisters that etched across her scalp -
apparently doctored with some offensively odorous medicine - was evidence
of the pain that she was enduring.  And the smell of the medicine only
barely masked her own rather sour, unwashed odor - I imagined that there
had been little opportunity to wash properly on the long train trip.  But
her skin was so exquisitely fair and translucent that I could see the
tracery of blue veins underneath it.  She was like a porcelin doll, and
just as delicate - she needed to be cleansed and comforted with loving
care, and with a soothing, sweet-smelling unguent - I would treat those
sores with a scented balm, to lessen the pain of every moment of her
recovery.  I COULD do that - I had studied the medicinal arts, I had
treated myself and my animals for long enough - those were years of
training just to meet her need, and if my own skills were not sufficient, I
could see that she got every expert help that all my resources would
secure.

   The strip of cloth that had been wrapped about her waist, had fallen to
the platform deck when she stumbled forward into my arms, and now the
pungency and wetness of her all-too-public accident seeped through the
fabric of her dress and through my shirt to my skin.  I could smell it too,
and feel it, but it only made me pull her more firmly against my body.  She
had peed in fright and panic, perhaps, or from pain and weakness.  The
onlookers had derided her, pointing and taunting.  I would affirm her
dignity, I COULD make certain that she would never have to suffer the kinds
of public rejection that I had known all my years.  The wetness that
anointed me was from her flesh, to mine - evidence of an intimacy - a
oneness - that we now shared.  To me, it was just like the balm that I
would gently spread over her wounds, just as soothing, and just as
curative.

   She was so light, and delicate, and small.  Fragile?  Perhaps.  But
there was an almighty strength in her also.  I would nurture her and make a
home for her, so that she COULD blossom and release all her girlish
strength and energy in any way she wanted.  There would, there COULD, be no
more bounds for this girl.

   I could SEE FEEL TOUCH SMELL all these things of Her ... and now ... I
could HEAR!  She lifted her head a bit off my chest, and spoke something. I
knew it was her voice instantly, because a sweeter melody I had never heard
before!  And from her being to mine, I felt it too!  I might curse my
disability any other time, but at this moment I gloried in it, because my
whole body was sensitive to the very vibration of her small frame as she
spoke - it resonated in accompaniment to that pearl-like purity of her
girlsong.  Such sounds from other girls had forever energized me, but ever
stayed distant, elusive, ultimately unknowable ... and I realized at this
moment that as long as we would be together, THIS girl and I, girlsong
would never elude me again.  For it was Her song.

   The truth of it hit me, resounded into me with a force that almost
buckled my knees.  I shuddered with the joy of it, then gasped for air, and
the tears that had come unbidden when I first picked her up, now returned.
Her voice was a clarion, shocking me back to awareness that there were
others around us, and that there were important things that had to be done.
I knew I could no longer merely revel in this girls presence.  Time could
no longer be suspended.  She must have spoken for a reason, and I must
discern it.  I craned my neck and looked down at her through my tears, and
strained to understand.  Even now I would have fallen back immediately into
my trance of wonder, fascinated with every little thing about her, watching
as her pale pink lips moved, glistening in the soft afternoon sunlight, but
they were forming words that I needed to decipher.  What was it that she
was saying!  Was it a question?  A statement?  A plea?  A command?  Was it
directed at me, or the others?!  Was there something she wanted of me? 
Should I put her down?  Hold her closer?

   She was not looking up at me, but speaking to the others, her face
turned outwards.  She spoke rapidly, and forcefully - the bell tones of her
voice struck long dormant chords in me - I heard them, and translated them
- she was ... desperate, pleading, begging ....

   My own desperation immediately knew no bounds!  Instantly, my disability
WAS a curse.  Never had I felt the loss of my hearing so forcefully as now!
What was it she wanted?  If I would dare to claim her, then I must make
good my claim - if she had a need, I must meet it now!

   I couldn't read her lips.  I couldn't force the lyrics of her song to
form in my mind.  I looked in the direction her head was turned to.  Aunt
Carrie was still with us, and still brandishing that cane of hers like a
weapon.  Most of the crowd had dispersed while I had been lost to the taste
of all the new and wondrous sensations of the child in my arms.  Among the
few who remained, it had the look of some kind of a standoff.  Me, the
girl, and Aunt Carrie on one side, facing a couple of other old women - I
knew them by sight, if not by name.  The mayor and the nun were standing
off to the side, obviously not eager to chance an encounter with Aunt
Carrie's cane, but both of them engaged in the discussion too.  Everyone
seemed to be talking at once, arguing, pointing at me and the little girl
in my arms.

   It had all come down to this.  I knew they were arguing about my claim
on this girl.  How could I possibly be allowed to take her home with me - a
deaf, and truly dumb, mute, a single man, one who had been practically a
recluse?  That's what they would be saying - those who argued with Aunt
Carrie.  And was my girl, on her own, all by herself, taking up my task to
answer those nay-sayers?  I could see that her interruption had caught
their attention.  And now I must do my part.

   I was going to tell them just how and why I could claim this girl.  And
if she would allow me to be her daddy, there was no power on earth that
would separate us, from this moment forward.  I adjusted my hold on her,
leaning back so that I could free my left hand to retrieve the pencil and
paper from my pocket - I had stuffed them there when Aunt Carrie pulled me
across the platform.  My girl was startled at the loss of the comforting
pressure of my hand, and clutched me all the harder.  I could translate
that clearly enough.  She did NOT want me to let her down.

   Just as before, the old woman forestalled me, taking matters into her
own hands.  I had barely grasped the paper and pen when I saw Aunt Carrie
lift her cane high, holding it straight up vertically, and suddenly slam it
down hard upon the platform planking - I felt the impact through my shoes,
and my girl must have heard it too - she tensed, and twisted her little
fingers within the folds of my shirt.

   Having gotten everyone's attention, Aunt Carrie laid into them. 
Whatever the old woman said then, it took the others aback.  Our would-be
antagonists just stood there, mouths open agape, shocked for a moment.  The
mayor backed away from everyone, like he didn't want to get involved
anymore, and the nun - well, she started to turn three shades of red, but
it didn't look like she was angry at Aunt Carrie, but more like she was
anguished.  She brought both her hands up, templing them before her mouth
as if in prayer.  The other two women facing Aunt Carrie just stood there
stunned.  No one spoke for a moment, no one seemed to be able to speak.

   Suddenly the very air around us was filled with a veritable explosion of
white steam - the train engine let out a series of blasts of its whistle -
of course I couldn't hear it, but there was no mistaking the effect - and
there was an accompanying release of billows of steam from the cylinder
cocks.  There was no mistaking the reaction of everyone else, either.  My
little girl practically jumped out of her skin.  I almost dropped the pen
and paper right then and there, as I again placed my left arm across her
back to reassure her.

   Out from the billowing white steam the figure of the conductor emerged -
he had either been in the station house or near the engine itself - he
hurried up to us and was clearly saying something to the nun.  Whatever it
was, she looked panicked and threw her head back, looking up into the
heavens.

   Far from being stilled now, time was actually running too fast, fleeting
away from me.  The train was going to leave now.  I could sense it.  They
would try to break us apart, and I had lost all those moments that I had
been standing there in amazement that I was actually holding this girl in
my arms.  I should have been putting my case forward all that time -
putting OUR case forward - I could only pray that Aunt Carrie had done that
job for me too.  How long had it been?  Seconds?  Minutes?  Was I indeed
mentally dumb, as well as deaf, as everyone had been telling me all my
life?

   Again I leaned back to prop my girl against me and twisted my body a bit
as I reached out to get Aunt Carrie's attention, but again I was too late.
The nun stepped forward and confronted the old woman directly, gesturing at
me and my girl.  The old woman took her cue, and turned to me.

   Aunt Carrie said something, looking at my little girl, then she raised
her head up and spoke to me.  I struggled to capture the meaning from her
lips, but only succeeded in reading 'Ben Colter' ... a jumble of words ...
' will you' ... and more jumble.  I could see the sudden frustration in
Aunt Carrie's eyes, and she angrily mimicked writing, then saw the pencil
and paper in my hand and grabbed for them.

   The old codger was anything but slow in her old age.  She began writing
furiously, then held her finely spaced printing up to my view.

   'Will you adopt Lera?  They want to know now!'

   Would I adopt ... Lera!?

   My ... little girl, my Lera!!

   I wanted to scream out my answer.  No mere writing could possibly say it
loud enough!  All the things I would do for her, could do for her, all
those things I had enumerated in my mind about her only moments before, but
I knew that all those 'woulds' and 'coulds' weren't good enough now.

   Plain and simple, then.  I could not shout out my answer, but I could
put indelibly on paper what I was going to do.  I took the paper and pencil
from Aunt Carrie and motioned for her to turn, so I could write on her
back. What a woman she was - she understood instantly, and was not one to
stand on ceremony or dignity.  She simply turned and hunched over.

   I was calm now.  I knew what I was going to write, and more importantly,
what I was going to do, no matter what these people might think or decide.
I had already decided.  Lera had already decided.  I was sure of that, but
would let her affirm it nevertheless, too.

   Lera must have interpreted my step forward in the wrong way.  I felt her
whole body tense again.  Then as I leaned forward to write, I heard her cry
out, and she literally started climbing up my body then, in a desperate
effort to keep me from doing what I had no intention of ever doing anyway -
as if I would, or could, ever let her go.  Her head brushed hard against my
chin as she rose on my frame, and she flinched in pain.  Faintly I heard
another plaintive echo of her cry.  The bandage wrapped around her head
slipped down and although she was grasping me so close that I couldn't look
in her eyes, I saw that they were wide with her fright, and tears were
streaming down her cheeks.  I felt her arms tighten around my neck now,
holding on for her dear life.  She called out again.  Her anguished plea
was more despairing now.  I shared in her despair - yes, I knew what I was
going to do and say, but she didn't yet.  I wanted to still her fears
instantly!

   Aunt Carrie turned her head in response to Lera's outcry, and answered,
saying I knew not what, but Lera's reaction was immediate and jolted me to
my core.  She released her clenched hands around my neck and leaned her
head back, staring at me as if she could actually see, with eyes that
captured the very color of the sky, and I felt her hand glide up across my
neck and cheek.  Her fingers could see, even though her eyes could not. 
But she still stared blindly at me wonderingly, and held her little fingers
together and placed them so delicately upon my lips, as if testing them,
and I knew then what Aunt Carrie had told her - that I could not speak,
that I could not hear - and it only confirmed what I knew had really
frightened my little girl.  I had never answered Aunt Carrie's
all-important question!  And I knew what Lera must be wondering now.  How
would I answer?  The old woman had asked if I would adopt her, but how
could I answer!?

   Through thirty-three years since I had lost my hearing, I had not
uttered a word, nor had I ever attempted to communicate, even with my
mother, through any kind of sound.  So it was only Lera, it could only have
been Lera, who had the power to reach into the depths of my soul and force
me to break my self-imposed silence.  Hearing the faint traces of her
anguished cry, feeling her frantic grasp, then those little fingers tracing
my lips, I dug far back into my memories to that long-lost time before my
accident, to all the times when my mother had comforted me with a soft,
calming hush - no need for words, just that sound, like a soothing breeze,
and the feel of her breath and her lips against my cheek.

   And just so, did I soothe away my little girl's doubts and fears.  With
a susurrating shoooshhh so softly against her fingers, then with the firm
pressure of my lips upon them, I made it known to her, before I told it to
the world, that she was mine, and I was hers.  I never before felt so proud
and so much a man, as when I felt the slightest release in her tension, as
she let her fingers slide across my lips, and then back around my neck,
encircling it again, but this time there was no desperation in her grasp.
There was a look of wonder in her eyes.  They were still wide and unseeing,
but they were directed straight at my face as if she could sense even
through her blindness that I was true to her.  And it was only that, only
that trust she placed in me, that allowed me to reach forward and place the
paper on Aunt Carrie's bent shoulder, and start writing.

   The words were simple.  A pledge and a statement of fact.

   'I will be Lera's father, and take care of her for as long as I breathe
and as long as she will have me.'

   I lifted the paper from Aunt Carrie's shoulder and held it out for all
to see.  She turned and read it, and the nun stepped forward to read it
too. She read it aloud, enunciating each word clearly - I watched her lips
form them, just as I had written them.  Aunt Carrie jutted her chin out as
if declaring, 'There, let it be known.' The nun bowed her head, and again
pressed her hands together in prayer, and brought them to her lips.

   I felt Lera release a breath that washed across my cheek and neck, so
soft and warm, and her whole body relaxed into mine.  She laid her soft
cheek upon mine.

   Whatever communion the nun had with the Almighty, it ended when she
raised her head and looked straight at my girl.  I saw her form the name,
'Lera,' and could only guess at what she said to the girl.  It must have
been a question - THE question, the one I wanted to ask also - and we both
received our answer.  Lera slowly, almost solemnly nodded her head up and
down, never once letting her head lift from my cheek, letting me know her
answer first, and then she said it aloud for the world to hear.  I heard it
as another lyric in her sweet song, and there was no longer any desperation
in it, no longer any doubt or fear.  Just the pure, dulcet notes of
acceptance drawn from within my little daughter's very own soul.



   -----------------------------------

   For this moment, all the pain of her past was as if it had never been.
For this moment, even the pain of her present, was stilled.  She could
remember every bit of it, but it could not touch her ... for this moment.

   There was nothing.

   There was no one.

   But Him.

   She remembered sitting by the hour at the windowsill overlooking the
open field next to the orphanage.  A tree had grown up near the window, its
leaf-filled branches filtering the sunlight, offering dappled spots of
shade.  She had once watched a caterpiller weave a cocoon about itself,
hanging from the closest branch, and wished that she could do the same ...
to shield herself against the pain of her long days.

   And now, she knew what it felt like to be within such a cocoon, cradled
within His arms.  The man who held her would keep her safe.  There was
nothing more to fear.  No more need to be wary.  No more need to simply
endure.

   She remembered only one moment with her Papa and Mama.  She had only
just turned four years old - she remembered her father carrying her down
the ramp from the boat that had brought them from Russia, her mother at
their side.  The boat was suddenly lifted high upon a wave that slammed
into the dock.  Their end of the ramp rose with the boat, and she heard a
scream and on the periphery of her vision she saw her Mama fall from the
ramp into the water between the dock and the boat.  As the ramp plunged
back down, just as fast as it had risen, her Papa started to slip too, and
he flung her with all his might across the water to the dock.  When she
scrambled to her feet, bruised and battered, and turned to look back ...
they were both gone.  She had forgotten practically everything about her
Papa and Mama, she couldn't even remember their faces, but she had never
forgotten the loss, the sense of abandonment, the stark, cold reality that
had dawned on her four-year-old consciousness, that she was suddenly
completely, totally, alone.

   And now, in His arms, she was no longer alone.  She pressed her head
harder against his chest, still listening to the beating of his heart.  She
clenched her fingers even tighter within the cloth of his vest, clutching
to him with all her strength, and feeling him respond, holding her even
closer.  He knew what that meant to her.  He would never leave her alone.
Not ever, ever again.

   She remembered each of the other boys and girls in her orphanage, some
of them friends, some so close that they were like her brothers or sisters.
Through her four years there, and now with every station stop on this
train, every one of her brothers and sisters, every one of her friends, had
left her.  Willingly or not, every one of them had gone.

   And now?  HE had come.  To HER!  There would be no parting, no goodbyes,
from Him.  She turned her head ever so slightly and pressed her lips
against his chest, next to his beating heart, and mouthed softer than a
whisper, 'Hello ... Hello ... Hello ...' And she felt his hand shift from
her back, up across her shoulders, his fingers tracing the lines of her
neck - and across her cheek, till his whole hand gently cupped her head -
he did it so tenderly that it didn't hurt, where his palm rested along the
bandage covering her eyes - he had answered her silent greeting with one of
his own!

   Lera wished that they - just the two of them - could stay together like
this forever.  She would rest against Him and not ask for anything more. 
But the silence within their cocoon was gradually broken as she began to be
aware again of voices rising about her.  Voices arguing, voices calling
back and forth in anger.  And she knew it must be about her ... and Him.

   "There he stands like a rock," one accusing voice was almost shouting. A
woman's voice.  "a dumb, silent rock, he is - just holding her.  He
wouldn't know how to do anything more.  He would never be able to take care
of her."

   Another voice rose, in answer.  An older woman's voice: "He is a rock,
indeed!  A great big steady rock - just the kind this little girl needs! 
Ben knows how to cook, and mend clothes, and ...."

   A third woman interrupted, sternly, talking as if she would have the
final word: "He's a man.  We can't let him take home a little girl.  It
wouldn't be proper, and you know it, Carrie May!  Why, sakes alive, I
couldn't rest a moment thinking of her all alone out there at his place."

   "How dare you say such a vile thing, Trudy Hartwell!  Not once, even in
all the years since his mama died, has it ever been said that Ben Colter
was anything but a perfect gentleman and upstanding citizen.  As for your
so delicate fears for the girl - you'd have no trouble at all thinking
about her being stuffed back on that train and headed back to some asylum
in the East, now would you!" the old woman responded again.

   'Now Aunt Carrie," the first woman interjected.  "You know she wouldn't
want to be adopted by the likes of Ben Colter!"

   "I know no such of a thing!  She looks mighty set on staying with him,
if you ask me.  Look at the way she's holding on to him!  Does that look
like someone who wants to get back on that train?"

   "Well, she has no say in the matter, one way or another.  The good
Sister here is not going to let ..."

   Lera had listened to every word of it.  About her man - his name was
Ben! Ben Colter!  One of the women had called him dumb!  She shouldn't say
such a thing about Him!  And the voice of an old woman - the one who kept
defending Him - that was Carrie May.  Aunt Carrie.  She must be very old,
the way she sounded, but she wouldn't back down.  And she was right, every
time!

   And now one of the other women was shouting.  One of the mean women. 
"... she's just going to have to go back on that train to New York or
wherever she came from - why, the very thought of it.  An unmarried man,
alone with a little girl.  Not to mention his complete ignorance about
anything to do with children.  It's final, we just won't ...."

   "I know he would take care of me!" Lera just couldn't bear it!  What
that woman was saying just couldn't be!  She couldn't know what it was like
- back there - or what it was like - HERE with HIM!  "Pleeaaase!" she cried
out in anguish.  "Aunt ... Aunt Carrie!  I know you're a good woman -
please!  Don't let them send me back!  I want to stay with ... him ... with
this man ... with Ben ... I won't be any trouble at all, and I can ... I
can wash, and ... and.  ... and sew, and ... he won't have to do much ...
but, he wants to take care of me.  Nobody ever wanted me, but ... I know he
does!"

   "We're not sending you back, girl!" Aunt Carrie answered her
immediately, without hesitation.  "I'll be personally God-damned if we send
you anywhere.  You're staying right where you are, right now."

   Suddenly Lera felt her man - her Ben!  - she felt him let go, he wasn't
holding her head against him any more!  No!  Surely he wouldn't listen to
them!  He wouldn't give her back!  But he hadn't said anything.  Why didn't
he tell them!?  She shrank back into him, grasping him even harder, and now
she mouthed again into his chest, a special silent plea, just for him,
'please, please, please, tell them you want to keep me!  Tell them ....'

   There was a loud, resounding smack.  Something very hard, slamming into
something else, with a crack that exploded into Lera's ears.

   "The girl tells the truth of it!" Aunt Carrie shouted out into the
shocked silence.  "This is her only chance, and she means to take it - look
at the way she's holding on to Ben!  This little girl has more sense than
all of you - Ellie!  You just wanted someone to cook for you!  And you,
Trudy - I don't know what you came here for - just to stick your nose in
other peoples business?!  Well, I ain't standing for it.  And you, Mr. 
Mayor.  Don't you back away from this.  I didn't help you get into your
high and mighty office just for you to back away from a fight.  You - ALL
of you - you can look at these two and see that this is a union set up by
Providence!  A man who's wants to be a daddy to a homeless little girl, and
here she is wanting - begging - to be his daughter.  Sister!  What are you
thinking - did you bring this child out here just to twist her hopes and
dreams around?  Get down on your knees and do some prayin', because you're
going to need it if you don't let this child go with this man!'

   Lera wanted to thank the old woman, but a shrieking blast tore through
the air.  And another, and another - she had heard that piercing whistle
often enough on the long train trip, always signaling that the orphan train
was about to move out.  She felt the light sprinkling of wetness from the
steam on her cheeks, as it condensed and fell in tiny droplets all around
them.

   Not now!  she wanted to scream out.  Not now!  But then she thought
...maybe, just maybe!  It would leave, without her!

   Into the deafening silence after the great whistle blasts, she heard
Conductor Bill shout out, "You folks got no more time to jabber.  Sister,
you're lucky that the westbound from Omaha is running late.  But I've given
you all the time I can.  In precisely six minutes we're going to back this
train up to the wye south of town, and after the westbound clears, we'll be
heading east.  Either leave the girl here or get her back on the train. 
Now!"

   Lera felt the desperation begin to envelope her, just like those great
steam clouds from the train engine that had blanketed them all.  What could
she say?!  What could she do!?  Could she make her Ben run away with her?
Was Aunt Carrie the only one who would help her?

   She felt her man moving, loosening his hold on her again.  It made no
sense, it was all so confusing!  He held her, but said nothing.  She was as
certain as anything in her whole life, that he wouldn't let her go, but why
....

   Sister Mary suddenly spoke up, "Miss Carrie, Aunt Carrie - you realize
that Lera can't do anything for herself?  No matter what she says, even
washing herself, eating.  I've had to make sure she wiped herself properly
after going to the privy.  With her injuries and being newly blind like
that ..."

   Lera was stunned, and wanted to deny it - even if it had been true so
far - she wanted to say that it wouldn't be like that, once she learned how
to do things on her own, even if she couldn't see, but before she could
think of the right way to say it, the old woman cut in.  "Don't talk
nonsense, Sister.  Ben is perfectly capable of supervising the girl's
hygiene and nutrition.  She is not the only little blind girl in the
history of the world who has been cared for by her father.  You know that.
And so do you, Ellie, Trudie."

   "We have no more time," Sister Mary said, speaking with finality.  "You
seem to be the spokesman for this ... Ben Colter, but I have to get it from
him somehow.  What are his intentions?  Will he make a home for Lera?  I
have to hear it from him."

   Lera's ears strained into the silence.  Why oh why didn't he respond?!
Why was he just holding her, but not saying anything!?

   "Ben!" she heard Aunt Carrie call out to him.  She spoke in a slow
cadence, laying each word out loudly and clearly.  "Will you adopt Lera?"

   There was only defeaning silence, and it chilled Lera to the bone.

   Then the old woman cursed, 'God Almighty!  Give me that pen and paper!'

   Nothing but silence from her man, but she felt his hand fumbling with
something, and then heard a faint rustling and a harrumph from Aunt Carrie.
Then Ben leaned forward again and it seemed like a pit opened up in Lera's
heart.  He wasn't going to say anything.  He wasn't going to answer.  He
was going to give her back!

   "Why doesn't he say yes!  Is he going to make me go back!?" she
screeched out despondently.  Feeling him releasing his hold upon her back,
she literally climbed up his chest and reached up to lock her arms around
his neck.  She would not let him do it!  Her head hit his chin hard as she
rose up, the bandage tied in a ring about her head slipped down, and a
searing pain arced across her blistered forehead.  The shock of it jolted
another shriek from her, but she would not let go from her vice-like grip
around Ben's neck.

   "Calm down child!" Aunt Carrie called out to her.  "Just you don't fret,
now.  When Ben was younger than you, he had an accident too, and lost his
hearing, like you lost your sight.  He can't hear, so he can't talk.  But
he can sure By God write, and that's what he's going to do right now."

   Lera pulled her head back from Ben and stared at him, seeing only the
blackness that had blanked out her vision since the acid had spilled on
her. Tears streamed down her cheeks.  Was it true?  Could it be true, that
he was NOT going to let her go, that he didn't say anything NOT because he
didn't want her, but because he couldn't speak!?

   It had to be true!  Oh, please, please make it be true!  She said a
silent prayer.  Almost without consciously willing it, she unclenched her
hands behind his neck and brought her right hand around his head and she
reached up towards his mouth, as if she could draw the answer out of him,
as if by her touch she could prove what she so wanted to know.  Sobs
wracked her chest, and her throat felt so tight that now she could not
breathe, no matter how hard she tried..  She had to make him tell her, some
way, that it was true.

   She couldn't see him.  She couldn't hear him.  All she had left was her
touch.  She held the fingers of her hand up straight together, and reached
blindly, her fingers trembling.  They touched his cheek.  There was wetness
there, just like on her own cheeks.  Was he crying too?  Carefully,
tentatively, she slid her fingers across, feeling for his lips, till she
felt their warmth and softness.

   'Speak to me,' she called to him silently, willing the thought through
her being, through her fingers to his being.  'Answer me now, just like you
did before.  Will you keep me?  Will you take care of me.  May I be with
you, and nowhere else?'

   And he did hear her silent plea, and he did answer.  He did speak to
her, and to her alone.  She felt a swoosh of his breath against her
fingers, like he was trying to tell her to be calm in the only way he
could. And to tell her that it would be done, just as she wanted it to be.

   Then he very deliberately kissed her fingers, sealing his message to
her, imparting it back into her being to release every last vestige of her
fears.

   She breathed again, and felt the sweetness of his message seep from his
being to hers.  If tears fell from her eyes now, they merely served to tell
of what she felt inside - a renewed calmness and certainty that made her
lean her cheek in against his, and made her wrap her arms around his neck
again - no longer in desperation, but as her own signal back to him.  She
would trust in him, knowing that he would never, ever part from her.

   They were connected, their bodies entwined, his arm around her, hers
around him.  She felt his every motion and knew that he was now writing his
answer to the others.  He had already given it to her, but they all would
know now.

   And she listened as Sister Mary read his answer out loud.

   'I will be her father, and take care of her for as long as I breathe and
as long as she will have me.'

   Sister Mary paused just briefly, then asked, "And you, Lera, will you
have this man as your new father?"

   Lera nodded, feeling her cheek touching and moving up and down with that
of her man.  He would feel her answer.  "I will, Sister.  I want him to be
my Daddy.  And with all my heart, I want to be his little girl."