Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Abram eagerly approached Tyrone, a hint of caution in his voice. “Dad, you still remember me, right?”
Tyrone gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m not confused now.”
Abram smiled, relieved. “Fantastic! Knew it was smart of Ewing to bring you here for treatment. That boy’s a real gem, unlike Klein, who’s always out gallivanting instead of helping out.”
Abram shot a glare at Klein over his shoulder as he spoke.
Leila’s first impression of Abram’s family wasn’t great, but she found herself studying Abram. Maybe he was genuinely concerned about Tyrone, or maybe he was just a smooth talker. Either way, he knew how to work a crowd.
Even Leila knew that Tyrone was brought to this country during a relapse. Ewing had come to search for him.
Yet, Abram painted a picture of the dutiful grandson, Ewing, taking Tyrone here seeking treatment.
Klein stepped forward, his smile a mirror of his father’s, sly as a fox with a glint in his eyes. But his attention was elsewhere.
Klein’s smile widened as he turned to Leila. “Grandpa, this is our cousin, right? Leila Sinclair, I believe? Mind if I call you Leila? You’re absolutely stunning. You have your mother’s eyes. I remember seeing a photo of my aunt when I was a kid.”
Leila knew Klein was just flattering her, but she was still a bit surprised. She had expected Abram’s family to reject her, therefore, Klein’s seemingly friendly demeanor caught her off guard.
Abram nodded and beckoned Leila closer. “Come here, sweetheart. Let me take a closer look at you. Oh, you’re the spitting image of your mother.”
Abram hastily brushed away a tear, seemingly lost in a painful memory.
Seeing Abram’s distress, Leila stepped forward, offering a polite smile to the others.
Astrid, Abram’s wife, cut in with a sneer. “Look at you guys, all smiles. She doesn’t seem too thrilled to see us, though. We’ve been standing here like statues, and she hasn’t even bothered to say hello.”
Bria let out a loud, mocking laugh.
“Mom, please,” Bria said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t be so harsh. She can’t talk.”
Astrid’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Leaning in, she stage-whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “She’s a mute? Why the hell did they bring back a mute?”
“Shut your damn mouth!”
“Shut up, woman!”
Tyrone and Abram erupted in unison, their voices booming through the hall.
Abram shot Astrid a furious look, grabbing her arm and yanking her away from the group.
Astrid, teetering on her heels, narrowly avoided a fall. “Have you lost your mind?” she hissed, adjusting her hair. “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m just stating the obvious! I met your sister before, and she was perfectly healthy. So why the hell did she have a mute kid? Something ain’t right here, and I want some damn answers.”
Leila’s initial frown softened. She couldn’t blame Astrid for her suspicions. She never believed she was a member of this family. Therefore, even though she was suspected, she was unfazed. As long as they didn’t actively try to harm her, their doubts didn’t bother her.
Klein, clearly embarrassed by Astrid’s outburst, pulled her aside for a stern talking-to.
Klein then approached Leila with a sincere apology. “I’m so sorry, Leila,” he said. “My mother can be very blunt, just like my sister. Please don’t take her words to heart. I’ve given her a piece of my mind, and I promise she won’t say anything like that again.”
Klein sounded sincere.
Tyrone, hearing Klein’s words, softened his demeanor yet kept his tone stern. “Just consider Leila’s feelings and ask if she can overlook this. How would you feel if you were on the receiving end of such harshness?”
Klein quickly nodded, eager to smooth things over. “I understand.”
Leila responded via sign language, her interpreter translating for her, emphasizing her resilience but also her desire for distance. “I’m used to hearing such comments. It’s fine as long as we keep our interactions minimal in the future.”
Bria, unable to hide her disdain, scoffed at Leila’s measured response. “Mom, Dad, Klein, don’t be shocked. It seems living with the Nixons has given her a sense of entitlement.”
Bria bitterly added, “Of course, with Ewing and Tyrone’s support, who would dare to challenge her?”
Abram, weary of the conflict, cut in sharply, “Enough of this.”
Bria, clearly frustrated by the lack of support, turned her back to her father.
Astrid was seething, her voice dripping with disdain. “Look at her! Acting as if we’re the ones desperate to be associated with her. It must have been hard for her out there, and that’s why she can’t wait to come back. I don’t see what she has to be so proud of.”
Tyrone, sensing the escalating hostility, grew stern. “Come on. Let’s go,” he said gently to Leila, guiding her out of the tension.
Left in the silence of the now empty hall, Abram, Astrid, Bria, and Klein were a mix of simmering emotions.
Abram was the first to voice his thoughts, trying to inject some reason, “Why are you so harsh with someone who can’t even argue back? Can’t you see how much my old man cares for her?”
Astrid scoffed, her cynicism unabated. “Everyone knows Tyrone’s mind isn’t what it used to be. Just because he’s taken a liking to someone doesn’t mean we all have to fall in line. I certainly won’t acknowledge her.”
Bria chimed in, reinforcing Astrid’s sentiment, “Exactly, she’s definitely a fraud.”
Klein, ever the peacemaker, sighed. “Even if she is, we ought to maintain appearances in public. But… I have to say, while she seems mild and compliant, there’s a stubborn streak in her. I wonder if she’s truly clever or just manipulative.”
Bria sneered, her disdain clear, “She’s not clever, just scheming. I was the one who saved her, and this is the thanks I get. Support me or not, I won’t let her off easily.”
As Bria’s anger mounted, Abram and Klein exchanged weary glances, feeling their options dwindling. They instructed the servants to escort Astrid and Bria away to rest.
Once the two were out of earshot, Abram and Klein remained, speaking in hushed tones.
Klein shared his observations with his father, his voice tinged with concern. “Dad, Bria might not see it, but you and Mom must have noticed Leila bears a striking resemblance to my aunt…”
Klein was cut off by Abram’s sigh. “You’re right. She probably is.”
Klein’s eyes widened in surprise. “But Bria was so convinced Leila was a fraud before we came back.”
Abram’s frown deepened. “Your sister hasn’t met your cousin before, so she wouldn’t know. Besides, many people bear similar looks.”
Abram’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Regardless, the only people who could definitively confirm her identity are no longer here. You need to get close to her, Klein. She might prove useful to us.”
“Fake or not, we’ll make her real,” Abram declared decisively. “If she remains with my old man long enough, she can become a tool for our ends.”
Klein nodded, understanding the darker undercurrents of his father’s plan, and a sly smile crossed his face. “Understood.”
Klein’s thoughts then shifted to another pressing issue. “But what about Bria’s health?”
Abram massaged his temples, his stress evident. “I’m still searching for a solution. Just try to keep her calm. She’s smart but easily agitated, and her condition worsens with each episode. Look after her.”
“I will.” Klein nodded.
Before Leila returned, Tyrone had proposed to Leila a grand gesture with a recognition banquet in her honor.
However, Leila, sensing the complexities such an event might stir within the Nixon family and perhaps overwhelmed by the potential implications, quickly refused.
Leila expressed her reluctance firmly with sign language which practically said, “I appreciate the gesture, but I’d rather not. Crowds make me uncomfortable.”
Tyrone’s disappointment was palpable. He pressed, his voice laden with emotion, “You’re my granddaughter, and after everything you’ve endured, I want to make it up to you. If you refuse, it will feel like you’re rejecting me as well.”
Tyrone’s departure after saying his piece was swift and marked by frustration, leaving Leila feeling cornered and conflicted.
Determined to seek advice, Leila planned to consult with Ewing, hoping to communicate her unease about the banquet and the implications it might have concerning her place in the family. She feared inadvertently taking the spot that might not rightfully be hers.
The following day, before Leila could reach out to Ewing, Abram and his family intercepted her.
Abram’s and Klein’s smiles were cordial, yet they failed to mask the underlying formality.
Leila mirrored their politeness with a constrained smile of her own and attempted to excuse herself.
“Leila,” Klein interjected, his tone warm, blocking her path.