Dead Silence

by Brenda Novak

  Her nostrils flared as she worked to gain control of her emotions. “You’d better,” she said at last.

  Kennedy understood how deeply his father’s diagnosis upset her. She’d built her life around Otis, his hopes and dreams, this town. “It’s just an election,” he reminded her gently.

  “Don’t you believe it.” Her tone rang with determination. “What’s happening could adversely affect your father. And I won’t tolerate that!”

  Kennedy wasn’t sure how to console her, but he knew he could only go so far to please his parents, the Vincellis or anyone else in Stillwater. “I have to live with myself,” he said. “I have to do what I think is best.”

  “Then do what you think is best. Just stay away from her.”

  He thought of the tentative arrangements he’d made with Grace to go to the fireworks. She’d said she’d call him, but she hadn’t. He was taking that as a yes. “I’m not sure I want to turn my back on her.”

  “She doesn’t need you.”

  “Maybe not, but having a friend in this town can’t hurt her.”

  “It could hurt you.”

  He skimmed over his mother’s response. “And the boys? You think they should stay away, too?”

  “Of course!”

  “They’re crazy about her.”

  “They wouldn’t even know her if it wasn’t for you.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They won’t be happy about losing contact with her.”

  “Of course they won’t,” Camille replied. “She plays with them as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.”

  “And why not?” he said, dropping his hand. “She’s off work right now.”

  “She should be more productive and less…visible.”

  Obviously, it was the less visible part that interested his mother.

  “Teddy and Heath were at her place just this morning,” she went on, “sitting out on the lawn selling soap and cookies and whatever else.”

  “So?”

  “She lives on Main Street, for crying out loud. Who knows how many people saw them? To make matters worse, she now has a Kennedy Archer For Mayor sign in her yard.”

  “She does?” he asked, oddly pleased despite everything.

  “One day it’s Vicki Nibley. The next it’s Kennedy Archer. Tell me that doesn’t make it look as though you put a smile on her face last weekend.”

  “God, you sound like Joe,” he said.

  “It’s the truth.”

  Kennedy was still fixated on the sign. “Where’d she get one of my signs?”

  “How should I know? Maybe Teddy took it from the garage and dragged it over.”

  “Main Street’s a good location,” he said.

  “But now that you’ve seen this—” she smacked the paper he’d thrown onto his desktop “—you must realize that associating with her in any way, even having your sign in her yard, is the kiss of death.”

  “You’re talking as if Vicki Nibley’s already won. The election isn’t over yet.”

  “If anything could cause us to lose, it would be Grace Montgomery.”

  Kennedy rounded his desk. “Everything will be okay, Mom.” He would’ve drawn her into a comforting embrace, except he knew she’d remain stiff and awkward. His mother had always been loving but not particularly nurturing. She struggled with intimacy and preferred to show her devotion through dispensing advice and sacrificing her time to help him in various ways. His parents were alike in that.

  “What made you take her to the lake?” she asked, perching on the edge of a chair.

  “A lot of things. Mostly, I was thinking about a poor little girl who didn’t have the chance at life she should’ve had,” he told her.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? She was damn lucky Lee took her and her family in, that he put a roof over their heads.”

  “That’s not all a child needs, Mom.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  Kennedy scratched his shoulder, searching for some way to gain a little understanding and support for Grace. To an extent, he sympathized with Joe’s family because they felt so wronged. But he didn’t believe they were the only ones who deserved consideration. What had happened to Grace was grossly unfair. “I think she was abused,” he said.

  Camille grimaced in disbelief. “Oh, brother. If that’s the excuse she’s giving you, I’ll bet anything it’s a lie. Don’t you see? She’s trying to manipulate you.”

  Kennedy thought back on those few moments when he’d asked Grace about the reverend, and knew that what his mother said couldn’t be true. No one could manufacture the desolation he’d seen on her face. The way she’d finally admitted it also rang true. “She didn’t tell me she was abused. Not at first. I guessed.”

  “How?” she asked, leaning forward expectantly.

  “Something tipped me off.”

  Camille shook her head. “No. She’s a gold digger, just like her mother.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Show me one person who ever saw a mark on her.”

  Kennedy lowered his voice. “There are other types of abuse, Mom.”

  “Lee Barker was a preacher! I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you’re insinuating. Because if you’re wrong, if you accuse a man like Lee, the backlash will be severe.”

  “I’m not insinuating anything. I have proof.”

  His mother stared at him for several seconds, then softened. “What kind of proof?”

  Kennedy remembered Joe standing so close to the spot where he’d buried the Bible. Seeing his friend there had spooked Kennedy, made him consider going back and moving it. But he hadn’t had the chance. And he’d decided soon afterward that he was probably being paranoid. If Joe knew anything about the Bible, he would’ve stormed the police station; he wouldn’t have kept the news to himself. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “What’s important is that you know things aren’t as we’ve always believed.”

  Camille examined her manicure. “Then bring this proof out into the open, so everyone will know,” she said when she looked up.

  “I can’t.” He wasn’t even sure others would interpret it the way he did. There was nothing truly explicit on those pages. It was a feeling he’d gotten, the missing piece that had explained Grace’s behavior—and why the Montgomerys might want to be rid of Barker.

  “Why not?” she demanded.

  “Because it could hurt Grace as much as help her.”

  “Kennedy, tell me what you have.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me!”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. It’s not around here, anyway.”

  “Who has it?”

  “No one has it.”

  “Then where is it?”

  “I buried it, okay?”

  “You buried it? Why, for God’s sake?”

  He blew out a sigh. “Because it could hurt me, too.”

  “You’ve done something you shouldn’t have,” she said, a tinge of panic entering her voice.

  “Some people would see it like that.”

  “Kennedy, what’s going on?”

  “Mom, I can’t—you’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

  “Trust you?”

  “Why not?” he replied, growing impatient. “How long do I have to prove myself? Have I ever let you down?”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “In recent years?” he clarified.

  She seemed to waver. “What do you suggest we do?”

  “I think we befriend Grace.”

  “What?” she cried, coming out of her chair.

  “If we back off, it’ll seem like an admission that we were doing something wrong in associating with her. Instead, we do the opposite, tout her innocence.”

  “Your father will never agree to an association with the Montgomerys.”

  “He will if you do.” Although his father hadn’t expressed any fears, Kennedy knew he was frightened of what lay ahe
ad. He was relying on Camille to handle anything unrelated to his health and his job.

  “You’re taking a big chance, Kennedy. You realize that, don’t you?” his mother said. “Maybe they haven’t found his body yet, but somebody killed Lee Barker. If you’re wrong about her and something unexpected turns up—”

  The color suddenly drained from her face. “That’s not what you buried, is it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well?” she responded. “What am I to think?”

  “You’re to trust me, remember? Anyway, I’ve already made the decision.” He held her gaze as he sat on the edge of the desk. “Are you with me?”

  Several seconds ticked by. Finally, she nodded. “You’re my son,” she said. “Of course I’m with you.”

  “It might get a little rough, but I think we can ride out the storm.”

  “The Vincellis won’t win. After this—” she wadded up the flyer and threw it in the wastebasket “—I’m going to make damn sure of it.”

  “We can take them,” Kennedy said, smiling at his mother’s spunk. But he was feeling far from confident. Aligning himself with Grace would alienate more people than just the Vincellis.

  Camille hesitated at the door. “I hope you’re right. I don’t want to be sorry about this decision,” she said and left.

  Grace was surprised to see Heath and Teddy at her door late that afternoon. Judging by the way their grandmother had whisked them off earlier, Grace had assumed they were in trouble. But they didn’t seem upset. When she answered their knock, they greeted her as enthusiastically as ever.

  “Hi, Grace!” Teddy said.

  Heath smiled up at her. “What have you been doing since we left?”

  She’d sat out in the yard, reading a book for two hours. Then she’d closed up the stand because no one seemed interested in purchasing anything today. Plenty of folks slowed to stare at her, but no one stopped. “Making caramel apples,” she said.

  “For the stand?”

  “For the two of you.”

  “I love caramel apples!” Teddy cried.

  “How many did you make?” Heath asked.

  “A dozen.”

  “Maybe we could try selling a few, just to see how they do.”

  Grace was quickly learning that, of the two boys, Heath was the cool-headed businessman. Teddy was the passionate one who led with his heart. “I already took in the inventory,” she said.

  “We’ll help you bring it out again,” Heath volunteered.

  Grace wasn’t sure she wanted to sit outside anymore. Something had changed in the past couple of days, something she could sense but not quite define. She’d expected a reaction because of her involvement with Kennedy, but this went beyond that. It was as if the contempt and hatred she’d experienced when she was younger had increased tenfold.

  She preferred to spend the rest of the afternoon in her garden. “If I’m going to be out in the heat, I should probably be pulling weeds.”

  “We’ll help you do that later,” Teddy said.

  “Let’s open the stand,” Heath begged. “Can we, please?”

  Grace considered his hopeful face. If the boys were that excited about trying again, she wasn’t going to allow the people of Stillwater to stop her from saying yes. “Okay,” she said, and they started hauling everything out again.

  “Do you think we’ll have more buyers now than we did this morning?” Heath asked as he arranged baskets of tomatoes, carrots, zucchini and peas on the table.

  “I hope so.” Grace didn’t really expect much, but they’d barely finished setting everything out when Madeline pulled up to the curb.

  “Here’s someone already,” Heath said.

  “Hi, there!” Madeline hopped out of her Jeep, giving Teddy and Heath a smile as she strode onto the lawn. “Looks like you’ve got plenty of help this afternoon.”

  Grace waved. “I do.”

  “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  “When did you call?”

  “I’ve tried several times.”

  “I’m sorry. I must’ve accidentally turned it to quiet mode.” Now that George had moved on, she didn’t check it as often. “Did you need something?”

  “Mom told me you were seeing Kennedy, but I didn’t believe it until I heard the same thing from three other people. I had to come over to find out if it was true.”

  “I’m not seeing Kennedy,” Grace said.

  Madeline popped the gum she was chewing and nodded toward Heath, Teddy and the yard sign. “Right.”

  “We’re just friends,” she insisted, but Teddy piped up at that moment with, “Grace went camping with us last weekend!”

  Madeline tossed her gum into the bushes and chose a brownie. “So much for heading to Jackson, huh?”

  “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to make a big deal of it,” Grace said.

  “It is a big deal,” Madeline told her. “Kennedy Archer? Do you know how many women would love to trade places with you?”

  Grace arched her eyebrows. “If you write about this in the paper, I’ll never forgive you.”

  Madeline didn’t respond. She was obviously too busy admiring the campaign sign Teddy had hammered into the lawn. “Nice,” she replied, her voice thick with brownie. “Mind if I get a picture? You could stand right behind it, beside Teddy and Heath.”

  “Madeline—”

  A second car pulled up, bringing Teddy and Heath to their feet. Grace was grateful for the diversion—until she saw that it was Joe’s ex-wife. Cindy hadn’t changed much since high school. She was still as short as ever, had the same almost chubby build and round face. Only her hair was different. She’d dyed it darker than Grace remembered, and had it cut like a boy’s.

  Cindy remained behind the wheel of her pickup truck as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to get out. Teddy and Heath ran over and knocked on the window, and that seemed to propel her to action.

  “Hi, guys,” she said, but her voice was cautious, and she looked around as if she was concerned with who might see her.

  “What’s up?” Madeline asked.

  “Nothing.” She approached the table, immediately bending over the merchandise.

  Teddy followed her closely, almost stepping on her heels. “What would you like?”

  Cindy’s eyes flicked Grace’s way. “Did you make all this stuff?”

  “Using Evonne’s recipes,” she said so that her involvement wouldn’t deprive the boys of the sale they were so eagerly anticipating.

  “I miss Evonne,” Cindy admitted.

  Grace nodded. They had that one thing in common.

  “The brownies are good,” Madeline said, dusting her hands.

  Cindy smiled at Teddy, who was waiting for her to make a decision. “I’ll have a brownie, then.”

  “What about a caramel apple?” Heath offered. “They’re new.”

  “I’ll have one of those, too.” Her gaze slid back to Grace. “How much do I owe you?”

  “I’ll take the money,” Heath said and paused to figure it out. “Two-fifty. Is that right, Grace?”

  “Perfect.” Grace didn’t care how much he charged. She planned to keep only enough money to replenish her cupboards and let the boys have the rest. She wasn’t running the stand for profit. It was more of a tribute than anything else, a way to try and achieve the kind of calm Evonne had always possessed.

  Cindy extracted the change from her purse. But when she’d collected her brownie and caramel apple, she didn’t leave. She sidled closer to Grace’s end of the table.

  “Grace, I—I know we’ve never been friends, but—”

  Suspicious, Grace narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

  Cindy glanced at Heath and Teddy, who were now trying to sell Madeline a caramel apple, and lowered her voice. “Joe’s family is…sometimes difficult to get along with.”

  Grace had no idea where she was going with this. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For the most
part, I know how to handle them. But—” she cleared her throat “—they’ve been talking a lot lately.”

  Grace became even more anxious. “About what?”

  “You,” she replied, then jerked her head toward the boys, “and their father.”

  “What I do is my own business,” Grace said.

  “I know. I agree. I’m not trying to upset you. I just…Kennedy’s a good man, you know? I’d hate it if the Vincellis managed to hurt him.”

  “Hurt him?” Grace echoed.

  “Haven’t you heard? They’re siding with Vicki Nibley just because he’s become…er…friends with you.” Taking a tightly folded piece of paper from her pocket, she handed it to Grace. “I thought you should know, in case you really care about him,” she added and hurried back to her car.

  Grace opened what looked to be a flyer.

  “What’s that?” Madeline asked, paying attention again now that the boys had finished wrangling a couple of dollars out of her for a caramel apple.

  Grace shoved the paper into the pocket of her dress. “Nothing important,” she said, feeling numb.

  “Did Cindy give it to you?”

  She nodded.

  “What is it?”

  “Just a political flyer.”

  Madeline took another big bite of her apple. “She supports Kennedy, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “He’s going to win.”

  Grace watched the boys as they added up how much they’d make if everything sold. “I hope so,” she replied. But the Vincellis had never turned against the Archers before.

  Nothing was certain.

  The Fixin’s stand was still open. They didn’t have any customers just now, but Kennedy saw Grace out front, along with his two boys, and slowed. He had to hand it to his mother. It was nearly five-thirty, and she hadn’t come to collect Heath and Teddy. Once Camille made up her mind to support something, she followed through without hesitation. The Archers were making a statement, one that could hardly be missed with Teddy and Heath spending so much of the afternoon in Grace’s company, right in her front yard for the whole town to see.

  Trying to shake off a sense of misgiving for dragging his parents into a situation that might not be best for them, he parked in the driveway.

  “Dad!” Teddy cried and came running. Heath trailed behind him, his manner, as usual, a little more sedate.