"You have a question for me, don't you? Ask, sir," she said, looking at me for a moment.
"Why are you wearing lenses?" I finally blurted out.
On the one hand, I was extremely interested in the details of her skills, and I was terribly afraid the whole truth. At the same time, however, something struck me. I almost hit the brake on the floor and caused an accident. I figured I hadn't made a mistake in bringing my family into danger. This crushing feeling overwhelmed me again when we first met seven years ago. I looked at her as she regarded me with a sad smile.
"You don't have to worry about your family. Lenses are limiting my abilities. No one will be in any danger, I will not use it against them," she said calmly and returned to looking through the glass.
I breathed air, but I don't know if there was any relief. She sounded as if she had uttered these words more than once, or was aware of their importance. Had someone told her she was a threat, called her a monster, or had she made that conclusion herself? What if it wasn't wrong? Perhaps Martha felt subconsciously that taking Lucretia was a wrong decision? Something threatening her and the boys in the girl's presence? What if someone else knows about her abilities, I haven't had contact with her father for seven years, after all, so much could have changed during that time. What are its possibilities and limits? Weaknesses? What if…?
After a while, I scolded myself for thinking like that, she is only a child. After all, she hadn't planned to take control of the world. This is ridiculous, I finally concluded, and loosened my grip on the steering wheel a little. Only now did I realize how tightly my hands were gripping it. Lucretia was still staring at the glass, but I had the impression that she noticed my hesitation.
"I know others are afraid of me. I got used to it already." She shrugged. "Only my dad never showed it, I always felt love from him. And never again…” She trailed off as her voice began to crack.
How did she know that? Did someone tell her that directly? It occurred to me that Lucretia is not an ordinary child who will enjoy another toy or a trip to Disneyland. I had already noticed so much contradiction in her, though she looked like a joyful child, she had so much sorrow and pain in her as if she already understood too much of this terrible world.
I was afraid to learn more, so the rest of our journey passed in silence. What else should I ask? Is she nervous? Or should I tell her about the boys, Martha? Say that she will definitely feel at home with us, that we will take care of her and be a family. I didn't know if she even wanted it. I was wondering if she would need a psychologist after all these events. After returning home, I wanted to think about it. Luckily it was the weekend and even though I didn't have to think about work during those two days.
I looked at the screen in the car which showed me an incoming call from Hyacinth, I picked it up and the car boomed out in his teenage voice.
"Dad, Victor is asking when are you going to bring his sister home?"
"We're on our way, he doesn't have to worry about that," I said, smiling involuntarily. "We'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Good, because I can't stand him anymore. I don't understand his signing when he is so excited." - I heard a noise, Victor was probably offended by the words of his older brother. "Okay, for now," Hyacinth muttered and hung up.
I glanced at Lucretia, who rose slightly curious about the conversation. I wondered what she was feeling. Or maybe she thought about the fact that we would take care of her because we must and will only be with us for safekeeping until she becomes an adult? It seemed to me that such thoughts could be running in her head, but it was hard to read anything from her. I had a hard time understanding my own children, and she was completely foreigner.
"I know," Lucretia replied. "I also know the basics of sign language."
"How did you know?" I asked shocked. "I didn't tell your father about this."
"But dad used to read the papers, and you and your wife are a little famous around here, right? Sometimes they wrote about your children there too. Dad was always hoping that you would take me in, so he prepared me for it," she replied.
She was a little right, my law firm handled many high-profile cases. Martha's chain of stores and hers collections were quite successful, so we often appeared in the local media, but we tried to make it mainly related to charity rather than our professional achievements.
"Was he proud of me?" I asked, under the influence of the enormous longing I felt at that moment.
"Very," she replied. Then I felt a painful tightness in my heart. "He never spoke badly of you. He always said with pride that his friend was a well-known and respected lawyer and that he had a good heart."
It's good that we arrived at this point because I could feel more and more tears running down my cheeks. The guilt was killing me inside. I clenched my hands helplessly on the steering wheel, shaking with anger and sadness at the same time. Then the girl's hand touched mine, and I looked at Lucretia, who was staring at me as if she understood everything I was going through.
"Dad often felt the same thing, but no one is to blame except me. I asked him not to think that, I ask you for the same thing, okay sir?"
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