After the Silence

by Rula Sinara

  “I hope so. Of course, you’ll bring them for Thanksgiving, then. Right? Even with losing Zoe, and with what Maddie is going through, there’s a lot to be thankful for.”

  Ben’s temples started to pound, and his knuckles whitened against the doorknob. Everyone mourned in their own way, but being thankful was pushing it. She had to be in denial.

  “Nina, I’ll bring them, but I’m not thankful for the drunk who killed my wife, and I’m not thankful for what my daughter is going through.”

  “But you should be thankful that you’re here with your children and that they didn’t lose both parents. Be thankful that Zoe wasn’t still pregnant with Ryan when she was in that car.” Her eyes glistened and her voice hitched. “Ben, I need you all there to get through it,” she whispered.

  Ben felt sucker punched. What if Zoe had still been pregnant? Bile burned his chest, and he swallowed the emotions churning with it. He nodded as he let go of the door. “Thanks for watching the kids,” he said. “Lock the door. It’ll be a couple of hours before I make it back.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you come home.” He could hear the door click shut behind him.

  I’ll be here when you come home.

  How many times had Zoe said those words over the years?

  He double paced to the Expedition hogging the small driveway. After Zoe’s death, he’d bought a year-old model because of cost, but he wanted the equivalent of a tank to haul his kids around in.

  At least maybe he could keep the rest of his family safe.

  *

  BEN SCANNED THE report card preview before him. It looked like a Fortune 500 company stock sheet. Numbers, letters, categories and subcategories. What happened to just giving students As, Bs and Cs? Or Fs… He quickly searched the columns, relieved when no Fs jumped at him.

  Ms. Serval crossed her legs again and kept fiddling with her necklace. Did teachers really dress up that much for a school day? He wore his worst jeans just to get through a day with three kids. She had eighteen. Ben pretended not to notice when she flicked her hair back over her shoulder and leaned forward to pass him another sheet of paper, and tried not to pass out from her tear-gas perfume. Maybe that was what had triggered Maddie’s headache. What he really wanted was for the woman to turn off the background music in the classroom. It was driving him insane, but he didn’t dare give her a reason to get up and walk in front of him. Not in his precariously low position on the child-size chair he was in.

  “What’s an N?” he asked.

  “That stands for Needs Improvement,” said Ms. Serval.

  “In class participation? Seriously? After our meeting at the start of the year with the school counselor, knowing what’s going on, did you really find it necessary to give her an N on her report card? I’m sure there are ways to show participation that don’t involve raising your hand and speaking.”

  Ms. Serval pulled back and gave her skirt a tug.

  “Well, she’s doing great academically, really, Mr. Corallis. I wanted you to have a chance to see her interim grades, since you missed the scheduled conference.”

  “The office gave you my message about my youngest getting sick, right?”

  “Yes, of course. I completely understand and sent you an email about rescheduling.”

  She had? Crap. He had a vague recollection of one that he’d planned to get back to. And forgot.

  “Please understand, the whole report card is computer based now,” she said, redirecting the conversation. “We have to input a grade or letter, and there are criteria we have to follow to be fair. I couldn’t put anything else, given the situation. I do understand the reason and I understand that she’s getting therapy for her selective mutism and to help her heal from her—your—loss. But it’s more than that. Lately, she acts as though she doesn’t care. As though she’s not paying attention. Zoning out in the afternoons. And once this week, when I tried to correct something on her paper, she simply crossed her arms and sat at her desk staring at her paper for almost an hour. She refused to respond to anything I said. By working, of course. I don’t mean verbally.”

  “An hour?” he asked, adjusting his balance on the chair. Why had she let Maddie sit there that long without calling Mrs. Eggers, the school counselor, or him, for that matter? Ms. Serval gathered the report-card papers, then clasped her hands.

  “Not quite an hour,” she said, tipping her chin, “but I was doing what I could. Mrs. Eggers wasn’t here that day. She covers other schools certain days of the week. I had to keep seventeen other students on task, Mr. Corallis. I tried to get her attention as I kept teaching, and hoped she’d come around on her own. It was so close to the end of the day that I didn’t want to encourage the behavior by letting her go home early.”

  “I don’t think she was trying to be difficult or manipulative.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply that at all.”

  Then, maybe he needed a hearing aid. Ms. Serval scratched her cheek.

  “It’s just that we’re almost through the first quarter and I’m worried that if she withdraws more, as opposed to showing improvement, it’ll take its toll on the rest of her school year. I realize you’ve been taking her to a therapist and thought you could share these observations. I’ll be honest. I spoke to Mrs. Eggers, and she mentioned the option of putting her in Special Ed if things got worse.”

  “No.” Ben couldn’t help it, but the mention of taking Maddie out of a regular classroom so early in the school year felt like a threat. “I’m sure that would be appropriate and helpful for a lot of kids, but Maddie isn’t learning disabled. Nor is she autistic. This is different. She belongs in a regular class with her peers,” he said, standing up. Ms. Serval quickly followed suit.

  “I agree…if she doesn’t regress. Which is why I thought that maybe more interaction with kids casually, outside school, might help. This is just a suggestion. Actually an idea her art teacher gave me. A lot of children respond to art, and I teach an art club at the community center on weekends. I’d be more than happy to work outside school hours with her. If you think she won’t be comfortable with a group, I wouldn’t mind coming over and spending time with her. Her brothers could even join us if they wanted.”

  Wow. Ben’s neck itched. Zoe had been an avid artist and photographer and used to tell him how much she enjoyed volunteering her skills at the school. No doubt Ms. Serval knew that. What he didn’t feel like sharing at this moment was that they were between therapists. He’d stopped taking Maddie to the one she’d been seeing and was still in the process of finding someone who’d do a better job of connecting with her. Even with medical coverage, nothing was free, and he’d expected her to show improvement at the couple hundred an hour the therapist charged.

  He hadn’t bothered with family counseling, in spite of everyone bringing it up. He figured the boys were still young, and he… Well, he’d survived loss before. He’d pulled through that year in college, when his mother, who’d single-handedly raised him down in Virginia on nothing but waitressing jobs, had passed away from an undiagnosed tumor. That was when Zoe, a photography student, had come up to him in the library and asked if she could take candid shots for a project. She’d said that he had a distant look she wanted to capture. Everything had changed after that moment. It was then that he decided to join the marines. He’d needed to prove himself. Make something of that latchkey child his mom had sacrificed for. And for Zoe.

  He’d survived.

  But he hadn’t been a kid at the time, and with the changes Maddie’s teacher had noted over the past few weeks, he had to wonder if the sessions had indeed been doing any good at all. Or had the changes for worse occurred because he’d been devoting more time to his computer lately?

  “Thanks, but I’ve already arranged for help outside school.” Not exactly the kind she was talking about, but not exactly a lie, either. He didn’t have details beyond the fact that Hope was a medical intern, so for all he knew she could be specializing in pediatric psychiat
ry. “Let’s see how she does over the next month or so. After the holidays.”

  “Of course. Oh…” Ms. Serval picked up a blue folder and textbook from the corner of her desk and handed them to him. “I put together the work she missed today and some of the worksheets we’ll be doing tomorrow, just in case it turns out she’s coming down with something. Thanks so much for coming in here today. Maddie really is a sweetheart. I’m so sorry for all you’re going through.” She reached out, so he shook her hand. It felt limp.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Ben said. Then he escaped for the peace and quiet of his SUV.

  A solid night’s sleep would be better, but that would have to wait until he made it home and got the kids to bed. Hopefully Ryan would have a good night, but that was about as predictable as peace in a war zone. He swore as he put the gear in Reverse. He’d never inflated the guest bed in Chad’s room. If Chad fell asleep early… Well…if any kid could sleep through the pump noise…

  He pulled into the airport parking lot at 1700 hours and found a spot two lanes and six cars north of the target entrance. The sun was setting, and the edge of the cold front they were expecting had definitely arrived. He scribbled Hope on the back of a sheet of paper he ripped from a notepad he kept in the console for whenever Maddie forgot hers, and headed for baggage claim thirteen. He stopped briefly to check the monitors in case changes had been made since he’d called to check on the flight earlier that afternoon. Thirteen it was.

  The hustle and bustle of people headed their own way, doing their own thing, was nice. Like being camouflaged in a crowd. He needed a few minutes of feeling invisible today, but traffic had made him later than he’d hoped.

  He waited for a passenger shuttle car to drive by and then crossed over to the carousel. He crumpled the paper in his hand. Hope was hard to miss. Other passengers had already left with their luggage, save for a family of four and a man in a suit on his cell phone. The slender woman he was certain was Hope stood about five-five or six and wore a bright orange scarf that framed her face like a headband, holding back a mass of dark curls. She wore flat sandals, one of those flowing ankle-length skirts in a bright pattern and an orange sleeveless top. As a marine, he was trained to register details. If she didn’t have a sweater on her, she was in for a surprise. She stayed close to two green suitcases as she scanned the opposite direction, while alternating between fidgeting with one of her big hoop earrings and gripping an oversize woven purse against her side.

  “Hope Alwanga?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, her hand pressed against her chest. No doubt she was relieved she hadn’t been forgotten, alone in a foreign airport.

  “Ben Corallis.” He extended his hand, and she shook it firmly. Her full lips spread into a bright smile.

  “Ben. It’s so wonderful to meet you. Jack speaks so highly of his family.”

  Ben nodded, releasing her hand slowly, then stuffed his into the front pockets of his jeans.

  “We miss him around here.” Jack was one of the few guys he’d hung around with whenever he was on leave. He wished he still lived here. “These your only bags?” he asked, in case the airline had lost any.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t happen to have a sweater you want to pull out of one of these before we hit the road, do you? It’s a little chilly out,” he said. He wasn’t offering his sweatshirt. No one wore his favorite marine sweatshirt. Either Jack should have warned her about the weather or she should have checked her destination weather on the internet.

  “Oh, I have one here.” She reached into her shoulder sack and dug out a wad of cloth so small, he knew it wouldn’t be warm enough. She set her bag between her feet while she slipped it on. Thin as an old undershirt. “I could use some cool, fresh air, actually,” she said.

  “First time in a plane, huh?”

  “Yes,” she said, closing her warm brown eyes briefly. “I’m going to try to forget that I have to do this again in order to get home.”

  He picked up her luggage as she slung her bag back onto her shoulder.

  “I can get one of those,” she offered.

  Not likely, unless she was packing solid muscle in those thin arms. Her suitcases felt like a few elephants had stowed away.

  “I have them,” Ben said. “Car’s this way.” He headed toward the glass doors closest to where he’d parked and heard a gasp behind him when the second set of doors opened, letting in a gust of wind. He looked over his shoulder. She slapped her hands down on her skirt to keep it from blowing and hunched her shoulders. Welcome to a Pennsylvanian cold front.

  He glanced at the parking lot and gave in. He really wanted to get home, but she was Jack’s friend and his guest. He backed up enough for the doors to close.

  “Go back in and I’ll bring the car around. Just keep an eye out for a silver Expedition,” he said, wondering belatedly if she knew what an Expedition looked like.

  “No, no. I’m fine. It just took me by surprise.” She fisted the sides of her skirt so it wouldn’t blow. “Lead the way.”

  Well, okay, then. Ben headed out. Dark had settled, and the wind chill was pretty uncomfortable, even for him. And this was only November. She wasn’t going to last three months. He let her into the car before loading her bags into the back, then jogged around to the driver’s side and got in. Hope’s laugh caught him off guard. He’d have expected the cold to have irritated her more than the plane trip.

  “I’d say I got my fresh air,” she said, rubbing her arms.

  That was one way to think of it.

  “I guess you did. Seat belt,” he said, nodding toward her shoulder strap and waiting for her to buckle up.

  He cranked the heat as soon as the engine was running. The dash read forty-three degrees. Likely in the thirties with the wind factor. He backed out of the parking spot and hit the road.

  “Just wait till our first negative temperature day,” he said. “Fahrenheit,” he added, knowing she’d be used to Celsius. He’d spent enough time overseas to do the conversions in his head. “It feels close to two or three degrees Celsius out there.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Wow. Twelve is cold in Nairobi. We’re actually warming up this time of year. My brother won’t believe that I braved this in sandals,” she said, grinning.

  “Might have been more tolerable a few hours ago.” She was enjoying this? First-time trip. New country. Maybe adrenaline was warming her up.

  “Jack suggested that I wait and buy a few warm items here, since nothing in our stores was suitable for your winters,” she said.

  “Makes sense,” he said. He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, unsure of what else to say. He couldn’t talk about the weather the entire way home. How was this supposed to work for months? He hated gray areas, and he wasn’t quite sure how to treat her. Childcare helper or family friend?

  The silver bracelets on her wrist sounded like wind chimes every time she reached up to touch her earring. She rubbed her hands in her lap and looked out the window. There wasn’t much she could see from the freeway in the dark. He looked at the dash clock, wishing the airport was closer to his house.

  “Thank you,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “I’m…I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m grateful for being invited into your home. I’ll do what I can to help while I’m here.”

  Ben scratched his jaw, then settled his hand back on the wheel. He couldn’t really take credit for inviting her, though Jack had insisted that Ben would be doing both him and his friend’s sister a huge favor. Jack had never asked him for anything before. He’d said her family wanted to be sure she’d be safe…with good people. Her brother did take the phone and speak to him briefly during one of the calls. Sounded like a sharp guy. Joked about keeping her safe, especially from men. Despite his tone, Ben knew he wasn’t joking. He couldn’t blame him. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but Hope Alwanga could easily land a job as a fashion model and never make it back to her medical career. She’d be turning
a head or two during her stay.

  “Jack told me you’re in medicine. Pediatrics?” he asked, refocusing.

  “No. Well, yes, a few young patients at the emergency room I’m interning in right now, but mostly adults. Eventually, I’ll join my parents’ orthopedic practice. They work a lot with professional athletes.”

  Whew. She came from a family of docs. And money, or so it sounded, if they were working with athletes. And she was here, of all places, to help out with his kids? He’d been told that she was stressed, but stable, and needed a break…but, shoot, a break to him would be the Bahamas.

  “So you must have a lot of little nieces or nephews,” he said. “Younger siblings?” Some sort of experience with watching kids?

  “No. I’m the youngest. It’s just my older brother, Simba—Jack’s friend—and me. I can’t wait to meet your children, though.”

  This time Ben laughed.

  Forget a few months. Hope wasn’t going to last a day in his house.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dear Diary,

  Sometimes I close my eyes so that everyone will leave me alone. But I’m not really asleep. I hear everything. They fight because of me.

  HOPE HAD WORKED with enough patients to know how to read body language, an important skill, given that many “cushioned” or omitted facts in their medical history or medication compliance out of sheer embarrassment. The hesitations. The flinches. Nervous laughter. Jack and Simba had assured her that she’d be doing Ben a favor and that he’d jumped at their idea of having her stay at his place and help with his kids for three months. But he sounded much more skeptical than enthusiastic. She wasn’t so sure the man wanted her in his house any more than she wanted to be in anyone’s way.

  Oh, but this? She leaned her head back against the seat and looked out the window. Simba was so right. She needed this break. The good parts and the not so good, like over twenty-four hours of planes and layovers. She could have done without that. But she’d never in her life felt so free. This was spectacular. Ever since they’d exited the freeway, she’d been entranced by the dazzling lights that trimmed shops and street lamps. It was like a fairy tale. A scene out of a movie. Sure, a few places in Nairobi would set out some decorations at Christmas, but these were lights on steroids by comparison. She’d never seen anything like it.