Legacy of Silence

by Flo Fitzpatrick

  “Puff only picked up about half of that, but I got it.” Russ gently brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes.

  Miranda’s breath caught. She stared at Russ. He stared back.

  A small paw suddenly batted Miranda’s hand. Phoebe, taking on the role of doggie therapist, was doing her best to make “Mom” less sad.

  Russ laughed. The moment was gone. But so was much of the tension.

  Miranda exhaled and spoke slowly. “I’m serious about not being able to take much more today. Between burglaries and teaching and classes and crazy foster mothers and Farrah’s dinner parties and feeling remorseful and constantly saying more than I should, but knowing full well I can’t keep quiet, I’m a wreck.”

  Russ sat back and began to absently pat Spero, who’d awakened when Phoebe decided to comfort Miranda. A wicked gleam appeared in his hazel eyes. “Are you afraid of heights?”

  “What?”

  “Heights. As in way more than twenty feet or so.”

  “That’s what I thought you asked. No, I’m not. Why?”

  “I have a plan,” he said.

  “Okay, now I’m confused.”

  He grinned. “Not for long. Grab your bag, Miranda. We’re off.”

  “Where to?”

  “Emerald City.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MIRANDA GAZED IN admiration at the inside of Russ’s car. It was filled with every bell and whistle needed to keep a driver safe from any accident apart from the unlikely possibility that Air Force One might land on the roof. She’d seen this model advertised and marveled at the ability of a machine to warn the human driver about objects in front, beside, behind or even above the vehicle. The car automatically slowed if it was approaching another car’s bumper. A pedal on the floor nudged the driver’s foot if a collision appeared imminent. Another device warned the driver if someone was weaving from lane to lane in the blind spot. Although Russ could’ve driven without the extra devices, he clearly didn’t want to take any chances.

  She mused that the only thing the car wasn’t designed to provide was a shock to warn a non-hearing driver that an ambulance or police car was tearing down the street at midnight.

  Russ glanced at her and winked. “It does not provide a bolt of electric current in case of emergencies but that’s about all it doesn’t do. Well, come to think of it, it doesn’t brew coffee, either, but I’m hoping for upgrades next fall.”

  They were in sync. She smiled at him but didn’t try to sign her agreement. He didn’t need the distraction even if the car could practically drive itself.

  Russ was keeping quiet about their destination and she knew there was no point in trying to sign where? again.

  He inclined his head toward the middle dashboard. “If you want to listen to the radio, it won’t upset me.”

  She quickly signed, I’m fine. Her life was generally filled with noise. It was nice to experience a silence that provided comfort and solidarity between two people.

  Thirty minutes later, Russ pulled into a parking lot and pointed to a huge, colorful sign on the front of a small building. Large green-and-white letters spelled out Emerald City. A giant depiction of Oz himself in his preferred means of transportation took up the rest of the space.

  Four people dressed in casual clothing and one man wearing a uniform stood next to a wicker basket and a large, currently deflated, hot-air balloon.

  So we’re off to meet the wizard? Miranda signed.

  Russ’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Worried you’ll end up over the rainbow?”

  I was in the chorus of Wicked on Broadway a couple of years ago, she signed as best she could. I have no fear of going over the rainbow. This looks great. I’m a little anxious but excited.

  The man in uniform greeted Russ like an old friend, and then he turned to Miranda. “I’m Tony.” He gestured toward the balloon. “Your first time, right?”

  “Yep. I needed a de-stresser and Russ thought this might be the way to go. Of course, he didn’t tell me the going would be into the heavens!”

  Tony laughed. “You’ll love it. Did he explain you also get to help with the rigging for the launch?”

  “No, he left that little detail out. Then again, since he kept the whole excursion secret he left all details out.”

  “Are you okay doing that? Any broken fingers or carpal tunnel?”

  “I’ve got healthy hands,” she told him. Tony handed her a pair of heavy gloves to help with the crew work and a pair of earmuffs for the ride. She noticed that Russ had already donned his gloves and was patiently waiting for Tony to give instructions to the other passengers regarding the launch setup.

  Tony introduced Russ and Miranda to the two other couples, who seemed delighted that more folks were accompanying them. Within minutes all six passengers were busy tying ropes to what Tony called the “uprights” then staying a safe distance from the balloon and the propane tanks that were filling it. Twenty minutes later the clumsy and ultimately comic attempts to board the basket began. Russ climbed over the side with ease, then extended a hand first to Miranda, then to the two other female passengers, sparing them the embarrassing view of their partners trying various techniques to hoist a leg over and not land face down in the basket.

  Russ chuckled. “There’s just no way to do this with any kind of grace.”

  Russ placed Miranda’s hand on the side of the basket near his and before she had a chance to wonder if she’d end up in Oz, Kansas or California, the balloon was slowly ascending. Miranda could feel the tension from the past few weeks drain away with every foot the balloon rose. She made a mental note to tell the producers of The Agency they needed to add a hot-air balloon ride to the script. Perhaps send Miami Montreville floating across Indonesia, even if Jakarta was only a fake sound stage in Brooklyn. It could be a neat way to escape the bad guys and give Miami a respite from her numerous brushes with knives and bullets.

  Conversation aboard the balloon was minimal. The noise from the hot-air burners was intense and Tony wasn’t there to serve as a tour guide, but as a pilot ensuring the safety of his passengers.

  Miranda had always thought that Birmingham was beautiful. It had been nicknamed the Magic City at the start of the 20th Century because of the almost mystical speed at which it had grown. Miranda now gazed below and realized the name could also define the magical view. Russ pointed out various sites on the ground as the balloon sailed over them, including the statue of Vulcan, the Botanical Gardens and the ghostly old Sloss Furnace buildings with its outlying sculpture garden. For Miranda, the biggest thrill was watching a herd of deer running out of a wooded area to stop at a river just as the sunset spread its colors across the sky and the water below them.

  Russ put his arm around her shoulders and gently hugged her. Miranda felt a complete rapport with him. She wanted the ride to go on for hours. For the first time since she’d come home to Birmingham she felt every ounce of tension fade off into the skies.

  Even when the ride was over, the magic still held for all the passengers. No one spoke apart from Tony, who quietly and simply showed the group how to undo the rigging and get the balloon ready for a well-needed rest.

  Once the ropes were undone and the balloon lay flat on the ground, Tony escorted his passengers to the transport van that would take them back to the Emerald City office, about ten miles north from where the balloon ultimately landed.

  They remained silent for the trip back to the starting point. Russ held out his hand to Miranda to help her out of the van, then continued holding her hand as they headed toward his car, which was parked at the far end of Emerald City’s lot.

  About twenty feet from the car, Russ suddenly stopped. He let go of her hand and encircled her waist with both hands, picking her up and twirling her high in the air. She was stunned, confused and delighted with
the move. He slowly set her down, grinned and explained, “I’m filled with the jubilant spirit of the air!”

  Before she had a chance to respond, Russ leaned over, took her in his arms and placed his lips on hers. Her senses began whirling higher than the balloon. His arms tightened as she responded, and she caressed the muscles of his strong shoulders, then softly tousled his hair. When they broke apart, there was no strain or stress. Only smiles and a promise of more.

  Russ stared into her eyes. “I’m giving up my claim.”

  “What?”

  “To Miss Virginia’s house. It’s yours.”

  Russ! You don’t have to do that. Yes, I want the house but you have as much right as I do. Why are you doing this?

  He remained silent for so long Miranda wondered if he’d understood her. Finally he smiled. “Because I want you to stay—here in Birmingham. I know you’ve got a career elsewhere, but I also know I don’t want you to leave. Look, you aren’t the only one who’s been dealing with remorse about Virginia. Once I got back from Afghanistan my visits were sporadic. But the few times I saw her she’d try to tell me about her friend in New York and how proud she was of her Broadway ‘star.’ I actually resented you before I met you because you had a successful career and you had your hearing. Why should you get her house?

  “When I met you I tried to despise you and make you feel guilty for not coming home even though Virginia knew you were working nonstop. I told myself you didn’t deserve the house. Then I watched you with the Duranis and with Jesse—and even with your diplomatic handling of Darci—and I had to change that image I’d determinedly built in my mind of the girl who didn’t care about anyone but herself. I began to see why Virginia loved you. I’m probably saying too much and not making a lot of sense because the most important thing I want to say is I want you to stay.” He took a breath. “And if that means giving up a house? Then so be it.”

  Miranda motioned for him to wait until she could grab the notebook and pen from her bag. Then she wrote, “My life has been in turmoil for the past month. I’m scared to make any decisions that could change my life or someone else’s, especially when that someone is a person I care about. And I do care. But...”

  He read what she’d written before quietly asking, “But?”

  This was not something she wanted written on an impersonal notebook. But her signing wasn’t up to her feelings so she plowed on with the pen.

  “I’ve had to change how I see you, as well. You were so distant when I met you, so angry and I begrudged your friendship with Virginia. Lately, I have this huge mixture of emotions tugging me in every direction imaginable. About the only thing I’m sure of is what I vowed when I first arrived in Birmingham and sat in front of Virginia’s house. I need to curb my impulsive tendencies. So at this point I’m not sure whether to listen to the girl who keeps yelling ‘Go back to Manhattan, Miranda!’ or the girl who keeps whispering, ‘Stay.’”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A FRANTIC BONNIE HAMIL seized Miranda’s hand the instant she dropped her bag backstage. “You are looking at a desperate woman!” Bonnie cried.

  Miranda grinned. “I have never known you to be anything else before a show. I’m assuming you need a combination stage manager and wrangler?”

  “Absolutely. You’re wonderful and I love you and I’ll see you after the show. I have to go play theater director and act dramatic but responsible for all the parents and guests.” She gave Miranda a quick hug and took off at a run toward what passed as the lobby.

  Miranda stowed her bag and spent the next hour dealing with chaos and crises.

  She exchanged lighting cues over the head set with the young teenagers in the booth, told the parents acting as house managers when it was time to “open the house,” and helped line up various groups to prepare them to head onstage. She attempted to keep them from peeking through the curtain to check out where friends and family might be seated. She ended up peeking out with them after her maneuvers to shoo them away from that curtain failed and she smiled when she spotted Russ, her dad and Farrah sitting together about six rows back.

  She provided encouragement to children who’d never been onstage before and were terrified to perform in front of an audience and traded jokes with the teens who were nervous but didn’t want to admit it. She led breathing sessions for everyone to get them through that stage fright—admitted or not. She applied make-up to the children who hadn’t mastered the technique of eye liner and braided hair. She found bobby pins to hold hats in place and safety pins to keep small rips that hadn’t appeared until two minutes before an entrance from turning into large rips that could lead to humiliation in the middle of a song. She snuck into the lobby for about six minutes to return a call from her agent, Brooks, who’d phoned to tell her that he couldn’t wait for her to shoot the film and the buzz was that The Agency was going to be a blockbuster. Brooks had also made sure the actress subletting her apartment for the past month would leave the place in great shape. Apart from that distraction, she stayed with the children.

  Halfway through the show, Bonnie spirited Miranda away from soothing an eight-year-old with a skinned knee.

  “We got trouble, my friend.”

  “What now?”

  “Alicia will not be performing ‘Defying Gravity’ this evening.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s silently dealing with strep throat,” Bonnie said. “According to her mom Alicia was determined to make it here. Thankfully, mom convinced her that we do not need an epidemic of strep.”

  “Poor kid. Been there, done that and wasn’t thrilled. It’s painful. So, who’s her understudy?”

  “You.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “This is children’s theater, remember? Understudies do not exist.”

  “Bonnie Hamil! I figured that was for small parts. Not for the star spot in Act Two.”

  “Surprise!” Bonnie chuckled. “You sang the song for six months touring Wicked so I know you know it and our kids will be thrilled you’re performing. Seriously, do you mind?”

  “You know me. It’s fine. Just shove me onstage when it’s time in case I’m in the middle of convincing a seven-year-old that life will not end without a third layer of red lipstick.”

  Miranda blessed whatever instinct had prompted her to join the vocal warm-up earlier in the evening and managed to find a quiet spot to do a second warm-up about five minutes before she headed onto the stage. Miranda had to admit that while she was extremely sympathetic to Alicia’s plight she was excited to have the chance to sing a song she loved.

  The audience loved it, as well. She received a standing ovation. Smiles shone on every face.

  Every face except one. Russ Gerik.

  * * *

  THE CONTRAST BETWEEN the party Miranda had attended for Illumination and the get-together put on by Masquerade Children’s Theater was striking. A ginger ale–lime sherbet punch replaced champagne. Pizza was the main dish and music wasn’t playing from a live band because the live band was made up of a group of sixteen-year olds who were too busy sampling deep-dish pepperoni and thin crust mushroom with triple cheese slices to mess with anything else.

  In both Manhattan and Birmingham, however, Miranda could sense the identical emotions from the performers torn between the high of knowing they’d done a good job (amplified by family and friends hugging, squealing and taking massive amounts of photos) and the sadness that inevitably arises knowing the show is over. Bonnie was trying to overcome the separation anxiety by handing out letters to parents with information on the classes starting in fall and dates for auditions for the annual holiday show. The theater would be closed from July through late October for work to be done on as many renovations as funding and time would allow.

  Miranda made the rounds of congratulations and hugs, weaving through
hordes of children and their families until she found Jesse, who was standing far too sedately with his emergency foster parents. Miranda introduced herself and asked if she could borrow Jesse for a few moments so he could receive hugs and “you’re awesome!” fist bumps from Miranda’s family and friends. Once permission was granted she took Jesse by the hand and led him to the far corner of the scene shop where Russ, Tim and Farrah had been joined by Abra and Yusuf Durani. Their daughter, Yasmin, who’d been excitedly pointing out every fleck of paint she’d splattered onto the sets, stopped when she saw Jesse and immediately ran to his side, signing You’re the best! Congrats!

  More squeezing and squealing all around. Abra gave Miranda an extra hug before exclaiming, “I knew you had to be good since you’ve performed in New York, but wow! You were amazing.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Miranda said. “It was an unexpected treat for me when Bonnie told me I was needed. I mean, give me a song and I’m there. But, more important, I wanted y’all to meet Jesse, and I need to thank Yasmin for helping him backstage when I couldn’t. She’s one super guardian!”

  Miranda made the introductions. Jesse was obviously thrilled at meeting Abra and Yusuf, who signed hello and expressed their excitement at seeing him perform. He shyly acknowledged the You were wonderful! Farrah and Tim signed—Miranda had coached them in a few phrases only the day before when she told them she’d love for Jesse to have supportive folks in the audience. The group spent another fifteen minutes chatting about the show before Jesse’s foster parents came to collect him. Russ spent the entire time signing with Jesse and the Duranis. He continued to ignore Miranda, who tried to figure out what she’d done to make him act as though she didn’t exist.

  She found out after the party was over and Russ met her at Virginia’s. He was obligated to meet her there since they both had keys, an arrangement they’d made with both law firms the day after their balloon ride. Cort and Brett had even met with Judge Rayborn and received his approval. Miranda and Russ had left Spero puppy-sitting his pal Phoebe during the children’s show and Miranda quickly realized that picking up Spero was Russ’s sole motive in knocking on Miss Virginia’s door.