*How long?*
Gideon hesitated.
*Since I was a child.*
Doctors had blamed everything on the accident that destroyed his hearing. They had told him nothing could be done.
Rosalie wrote another question.
*Did you believe them?*
His pencil remained still for several seconds.
*No.*
Three nights later, during supper, Gideon’s chair suddenly crashed backward.
He folded over, both hands clamped against his skull.
Rosalie grabbed the oil lamp and hurried beside him. His right ear looked swollen and inflamed.
She raised the light.
Then she saw it.
Deep inside the ear canal was something black.
Wet.
Moving.
Rosalie’s fear disappeared beneath instinct.
She boiled water, found alcohol, placed a porcelain bowl on the table, and retrieved her sewing tweezers.
Gideon caught her wrist before she could begin.
He wrote one word.
*Dangerous.*
Rosalie took the pencil from him.
*More dangerous if it stays. Do you trust me?*
For a long moment, Gideon stared at her.
Then he nodded.
Rosalie carefully inserted the tweezers.
Metal touched something firm.
Gideon’s fingers tightened around the table.
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