Page 25 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
Merida spelled, “Of course.”
“Right. So you had to have plastic surgery?”
“A lot.” Merida gestured up and down at her figure, then spelled, “Too much. Too much pain. Too much anger, too much resentment. Merry is dead. I am sorry.”
“Yes. I see.” The woman beside Kateri bore no resemblance to the bright, outgoing girl she had been so many years ago.
Linda stomped up with glasses of ice water. “You want anything, Sheriff? Ask your friend if she wants anything, would you?”
“I’d take coffee, black, and a Denver omelet. And you can ask my friend—she can hear, she’s merely mute.”
Linda leaned close to Merida and asked loudly, “You want anything?” She gestured like someone drinking coffee from a mug.
Merida laughed silently, then typed and passed the iPad.
Linda read it. “Bacon, crisp. Eggs over easy. Wheat toast. Hash browns. Orange juice and hot coffee?”
Merida slapped her hands together, pointed at Linda and nodded.
“Youcanhear, can’t you? There’s something to remember.” Linda walked away muttering, “Every time I turn around, we’ve got more weirdoes in this town.”
Kateri blushed for Linda. “I’m sorry. Honestly, we’re not all so rude here.”
Merida typed, “Better that then the oversolicitous kindness when they think because I can’t speak, I’m mentally challenged. Or unbalanced. I love that one, too.”
Kateri glanced around the café.
Everyone was watching them, openly or surreptitiously or avidly.
“You must get tired of the curiosity.”
“I’m used to it.” Merida put down the iPad and with her hands spelled, “You’ve changed, too.”
“Yes.” Remembering Merida’s casual explanation of her transformation, Kateri said, “There was a tsunami.”
“I’ve followed your career. I know about your… mishap. I never doubted you would triumph.”
Kateri’s eyes filled with tears again. Her campaign manager would tell her sheriffs didn’t cry. And usually, she didn’t; no woman survived what she’d survived without being tough as nails. But seeing her friend Rainbow shot and in a coma, then losing John Terrance while in hot pursuit, had created a relentless guilt and pressure. Now to have her best friend from so long ago appear and express such confidence in her—turned out Kateri was sentimental after all.
Linda whipped past and tossed silverware and paper napkins on the table, followed by cups of coffee. “You girls want cream or sugar?”
“Actually, I’d like sweetener,” Kateri said. “Do you want anything, Merida?”
Merida spelled, “Cream.”
“She’d like cream,” Kateri told Linda.
“I know!” Linda left and returned with cream and a small container full of pink, green and yellow envelopes. “You know, Sheriff, this stuff will give you bladder cancer. Food’ll be up in a minute.” And she was gone once more, headed away to torment the customers at the other tables.
“Why are you here? In Virtue Falls?” Kateri put one of the yellow cancer-causing packets into her coffee, stirred and took a sip. “The last time I heard from you, you were in Baltimore going to college.”
Merida considered her and chose her words carefully, utilizing sign language rather than the easier-to-use iPad. “My life changed.”
Kateri wasn’t really guessing when she said, “Not for the better.”
Merida shook her head.
“Why can’t you…?”
