She froze.
The spoon had struck the floor behind him.
He had not been looking.
Rosalie picked it up.
Then deliberately tapped it against the table.
Gideon’s eyes widened.
Again.
She tapped harder.
He lifted a hand toward his right ear.
Rosalie’s heart began pounding.
“Gideon?”
His expression changed.
He had heard something.
Not the word.
Perhaps only vibration.
Perhaps only a faint sound.
But something.
Rosalie laughed.
Then cried.
Then covered her mouth because she did not know which reaction belonged to the moment.
Gideon smiled.
She moved closer.
“Can you hear me?”
He watched her lips.
“Rosalie.”
She stopped breathing.
The word was rough.
Uneven.
His voice sounded unused.
But it was her name.
“You can speak.”
Gideon looked embarrassed.
“I… can.”
The words were imperfect, but understandable.
