Mountain Ice (David Dean Mysteries)

"If you don't have anyone to tell you how smart you are, it's about time you start doing it yourself. Look around. You see other kids. Think about it. You're just as smart as any one of them. Maybe not always in school, but in other ways. There are thousands of ways to be smart. You just need someone to keep reminding you."

She looked over at him. "You think I'm smart, huh?"

"Yup. No doubt about it. And you said so yourself-I'm smart, so I must be right." Then he added, "But you should be in a regular school."

She changed the subject. "I think Donnie can talk." Dean looked at her questioningly as he turned off the jeep. "I made him," she said as she picked at her skirt. "I was teasing him and he yanked my pigtails. Can you imagine anyone having to wear pigtails now-a-days? Janet thinks I'm Becky Thatcher." She began to unfasten her long braids. "I like it that Donnie don't-doesn't talk. He can't make fun of me."

"Then why did you tease him?"

"Just curious, I guess."

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'Stop it'!" She paused and smiled. "At least I think he said it. I tickled him and told him I wouldn't stop until he told me to. I think he was maybe just faking."

"Then what happened?"

"He hit me. A real good one. I told him men didn't hit women but he nodded 'Yes they do.' After that I didn't try and make him talk anymore. He was more fun being quiet." Then she added, "I don't mean to spill on him or nothing. I wouldn't tell that to anyone else but you so don't tell him I told you, okay?" She hopped out of the car with a quick thanks ran into Bird Song ahead of him.

"Most men are more fun when they're quiet," Cynthia said with a smile when Dean, who was drying the supper dishes, related to his wife what Martha had said. The smell of pancakes still hung in the air of the cozy kitchen. They were alone in the room. "Do you suppose the boy really did speak?"

"There's no telling. Kids have a strong imagination. But wouldn't it be something if a bevy of psychiatrists tried everything in their books to get that boy to speak, and a little girl does it by tickling him!"

"I wonder if being away from his stepfather made it more conducive for him to speak," Cynthia mused as she drained the sink.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "That's an area where I wouldn't even dare to speculate."