Speak No Evil

by Liana Gardner

  A boy sat on the floor assembling something with wooden dowels and boards. His dark hair hid his eyes and he didn’t look up when we entered the room. A man had paper spread over the coffee table and held a piece of wood in one hand and a knife in the other. Wood curls scattered across the paper. A glass with brown, pulpy looking juice sat on a coaster.

  “Grady, this is Miss Prescott from child services. She brought Melody to us.”

  The man grabbed the glass and spat brown liquid into it before rising. His lower lip puffed out from the chew tucked inside.

  Gross.

  The man held out his hand to Miss Prescott. “Thank you for bringing her by. We’ll do our duty by her.”

  Duty? So far no one had said anything to me. I didn’t want to be the thing to fulfill someone’s sense of duty. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

  Miss Prescott shook his hand briefly, then released it and put her hand on my shoulder. “We should probably bring Melody’s things in and get her settled.”

  I didn’t want to stay with this family, but I didn’t have a choice. No one ever asked me what I wanted. Child services worried about who would take me on short notice, but that was all. Once Miss Prescott left, they’d forget all about me. All I wanted was to know what was going on with Quatie. And every time I said something about this being temporary, they said we’d have to see. Those words held no reassurance or comfort. The only reason I’d come with Miss Prescott was because Quatie needed to rest and get better. But as soon as she was better, I wanted to go home.

  Light sprinkles fell as we pulled my belongings out of the car. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach grew. Why did I feel abandoned?

  At the door, Miss Prescott stopped. “Don’t worry so much, Melody. The Jacksons are good people.”

  How could she say that? They hadn’t looked at me yet.

  When we reentered the family room, the boy had almost finished putting his wood pieces together. My stomach lurched even more. He had made a working guillotine and inserted the blade. What was he going to do with it?

  The bag ripped as I clutched it tighter.

  Mrs. Jackson led Miss Prescott and me down the hall and opened the door to a room containing a bare bed and a dresser. Nothing but gray-white paint covered the walls.

  “I’ll go get some bedding and a pillow. This will be Melody’s room.”

  They hadn’t bothered to prepare a room for me. How much could they really want me here? Although, they hadn’t had much notice. No one had. Neither had Quatie, but she had made me feel welcome.

  Miss Prescott put the bag she carried on the dresser. “We didn’t have a chance to get all your things. I’ll pick up the rest tomorrow and bring them over.”

  I didn’t want all my things here. “Leave them. Quatie Raincrow will get well soon and I’ll be back home.”

  Miss Prescott frowned, and her eyes saddened. “As much as I want Quatie Raincrow to get better, I still have to do my job, which includes making sure you’re taken care of.”

  I wished she wouldn’t look at me that way.

  Mrs. Jackson hurried in and placed a blanket, pillow, and a set of sheets on the bed. She pulled her sweater tight around her again. “Why don’t you get your things put away and then join us?”

  The blade of the guillotine slid down the rails and thunked into the base. Boyd picked up something from the back and flicked the release handle.

  Mrs. Jackson jumped when the blade hit. “What are you doing, Boyd?”

  “Cutting earthworms in half.”

  Mr. Jackson’s head wrenched up and he shook his knife at Boyd. “Boy, you’d best not be getting anything on your mother’s floor or I’ll whoop your ass.”

  “Naw, Dad. I ain’t getting nuthin’ on the floor.” He flipped his head to the side to get his bangs out of his face. “I got trays.”

  Mrs. Jackson’s forehead wrinkled. “Is it a school project? I didn’t think you had any homework over the break.”

  Boyd curled his lip. “I don’t have school work. I heard that if you cut a worm in half, it don’t die.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “I wanna see if it’s true.”

  What a horrible thing to do. Didn’t he think about whether it would hurt the worm?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Spring 2015 – Melody, age 16

  Melody struggled against Mrs. Langdon’s grip as she pulled her into the waiting room.

  Lily’s head popped up when Mrs. Langdon pushed past the reception counter, Melody’s upper arm still firmly in her grasp.

  Melody dug in her heels, but scooched forward, feet sliding over the floor. Her arm hurt from the vise-like hold.

  Mrs. Langdon shoved the door open to Dr. Kane’s office before Lily could get up from behind her desk. Melody held back a smile when the door bounced off the wall and hit Mrs. Langdon broadside.

  Dr. Kane immediately rose. “Why are you bursting into my office unannounced?”

  Lily brushed against Melody’s back. “She barreled through reception without stopping, Dr. Kane.”

  Mrs. Langdon gulped as her breath came in short, stertorous bursts. “You’re askin’ me?” Her face turned red and she trembled.

  Melody ripped her arm from Mrs. Langdon’s grip and rubbed it.

  “She’s the one you should be askin’.” Mrs. Langdon pointed at Melody. Her frown caused deep grooves to run from the corners of her nose down to the edge of her chin.

  Dr. Kane’s eyebrows rose. “Lily, can you please close the door on your way out?” He moved from behind the desk. “What has you so upset, Mrs. Langdon?”

  “Dory. Why don’t you ever call me Dory?” She folded her arms. “I’ll tell ya what has me upset.” She glared at Melody. “She’s been pullin’ the wool over all of us. That’s what.”

  Melody’s throat constricted. She moved to the couch to get away from the daggers in Mrs. Langdon’s eyes.

  “All this time she’s been pretendin’ she can’t talk, but she’s been laughin’ behind our backs.”

  Dr. Kane cleared his throat. “Exactly why would you say she’s been pretending?”

  Plop. The chair groaned as Mrs. Langdon sat.

  “Because I had to go to the pharmacy to pick up my allergy meds, you know how slow they can be sometimes ... well for once they were quick an’ I come back to the house an’ open the door, an’ what do I hear but this one singing a song all by her lonesome.”

  Melody craned her neck to peek at Dr. Kane. He didn’t look surprised.

  “And because you heard her singing you believe since she won’t talk it’s all a sham?”

  “Of course, it has been a sham. She can talk if she can sing.”

  To stop a crick in her neck, Melody moved to the chair next to the couch.

  “Those two things are completely unrelated. If Melody sings to herself, it does not mean she can speak to others.” Dr. Kane stood in front of Mrs. Langdon, offered his arm, and kept talking as she took hold. “She has always had the ability to make sound; the problem is her ability to speak to others. Which is what we are working on in these sessions.”

  He hefted Mrs. Langdon out of the chair and escorted her to the door. “I must remind you not to meddle in Melody’s therapy. I consider it a positive sign you found her singing. You either calm down before returning for Melody, or I will have social services remove her from your placement.”

  Mrs. Langdon bridled. “Again with the threats, Roger?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You will address me as either Doctor or Dr. Kane. This is my office, I have earned the degrees hanging on the wall, and you will give me the respect I deserve. As for the rest, I did not make a threat, but advised you what my course of action will be should you choose to badger Melody about speaking.” His jaw pulsed. “I thought we had already settled this when I began seeing her. Melody will speak when she is ready to and not a moment before.”

  “You don’t have to get so huffy. You’d a thought I’d’ve committed a crime by tellin’
ya she was singin’ around the house.” Mrs. Langdon hefted her purse on her shoulder. “Here I thought you’d want to know things like that.”

  He flexed his fingers. “Sharing information is fine. Storming into my office practically breathing fire is not.” He checked his watch. “And I’d like to get my session with Melody started. We’re now late.”

  Mrs. Langdon turned on her heel and her purse thunked against the door as she blundered out of the office.

  Dr. Kane closed and locked the door behind her, then rested his hand against the door for a moment.

  Melody moved back to the couch and pulled out the music player.

  When Dr. Kane took his seat, he contemplated her for a few moments. “I don’t think I need to tell you how maddening your foster mother is. Her behavior is beyond outrageous and continues to get worse.” He opened her file, flipped through to the page at the back and ran his finger down it. He peeled the cover back on his tablet and swiped across the surface.

  “I’m making a note to call your caseworker. I think it’s high time we had a conversation.” He tapped the screen and focused on the entry in the folder while typing the information into the tablet.

  As he finished, Melody turned to stare out the windows. The squirrel’s antics were always good for a tension break. There he was, scampering across branches in the tree. She smiled.

  Dr. Kane placed her folder on the side table, crossed his legs, and rested the tablet on his knee. “Let’s get started. We’ve been enough delayed as it is.”

  The squirrel’s tail bobbed as it clawed at the bark on the trunk of the tree. He finally managed to pull off a section of bark, then grabbed something and stuffed it in his mouth.

  “Melody?”

  She slumped against the couch and took a deep breath. A comfortable silence grew between them as she connected the music player to the speakers.

  “According to your file, your longest foster placement was with a woman named Quatie Raincrow out on the reservation.” Dr. Kane slid his finger across his screen. “I’d like us to talk about that placement today—why you had to leave, and how you felt about it.”

  Melody stiffened. She scrolled through the list of songs, looking for one in particular. When she found it, she pressed play.

  Dr. Kane held up his hand when the first note pierced the air. “Wait.”

  She pressed stop.

  “I’m going to ask you to be brave and do something for me. If you can’t yet, I’ll live with it, but I think this should be our next step.”

  Melody dipped her chin and blinked.

  “I’d like you to sing along with whatever song you have selected.”

  The chirps from the birds in the trees filtered through the glass. Melody buried her face in her hands and attempted to clear her throat without making a sound. Her breathing sped up and became shallow.

  After rocking for a moment, Melody took a deep breath and gave a nod. She pressed play and opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She punched the stop button, then rewound to the beginning.

  “You’re doing great, Melody.”

  She shook her head and frowned. Curling the fingers of one hand into a fist, she took another deep breath, pressed play, and scatted through the opening notes of the upbeat gospel tune.

  Dr. Kane’s jaw dropped open.

  She smiled at his astonishment, then launched into the lyrics for The Promised Land.

  My time has come

  To say goodbye

  Worry none

  Please do not cry

  To the land of peace

  I’m on my way

  Glory hallelujah

  I feel alive today

  Melody closed her eyes and allowed the music to flow through her.

  Your expression says

  There’s no time left

  You see as I see

  The angel of death

  Celebrate now

  As you hold my hand

  I’m on my way to Heaven

  To the Promised Land

  By the end of the chorus, she had her hands raised in the air and swayed to the beat.

  Upon my head

  The touch of death

  The stealing of

  My final breath

  To fly with angels

  My destiny

  Now that I’m free

  Don’t fear for me

  Quatie Raincrow always felt close when she sang this song. Melody allowed herself to become lost in the moment.

  Your expression says

  There’s no time left

  You see as I see

  The angel of death

  Celebrate now

  As you hold my hand

  I’m on my way to Heaven

  To the Promised Land

  Clapping her hands, she continued to belt out the song. The office melted away and she sang with abandon.

  My eyes are closed

  It must be done

  I see the light

  I see the Son

  He welcomes me

  With a smile on His face

  Glory hallelujah

  Amazing grace

  As the music faded, she gazed into Dr. Kane’s stunned eyes. For a few moments, she had forgotten her life.

  He closed his mouth. “Where on earth did you learn to sing like that?”

  The reality of what she’d had and lost crashed down.

  Chapter Nineteen

  January 17, 2012 – Melody, age 13

  The gray light filtered through the curtains. I flicked them aside. Raining. Perfect. The weather suited my mood. Today I turned thirteen and no one cared but me. Quatie Raincrow and I had talked about how to make this day special for months.

  Quatie wanted to make a big deal out of me becoming a teenager. She said it only happened once in a girl’s life, and it was important to celebrate it the right way. On my way to adulthood.

  But they wouldn’t let me go back and live with Quatie. I’d been praying every night for her to get better so I could go home and take care of her. But with each day, keeping my hope alive got harder. The Jacksons wouldn’t let me call to check on her anymore. And Miss Prescott told me she’d let me know when and if the situation changed.

  Didn’t they know how much I loved Quatie Raincrow? Didn’t they know how much we belonged together? How could I sit here with the Jacksons, who were not nice people, and not worry about how Quatie was doing?

  I refused to let her think I had forgotten her. My mind was made up. The Jacksons wouldn’t celebrate my birthday ... heck, they wouldn’t mention it. So my first step on my way to adulthood would be finding Quatie Raincrow and visiting her. She should be in the nursing home next to the hospital closest to her house. I knew where it was ... all I had to do was figure out how to get there. I’d pretend to get ready for school and instead I’d visit Quatie.

  Having made up my mind, I jumped out of bed, got ready as fast as I could, hurried through breakfast, and left the house. Leaving early meant I didn’t have to walk with the detestable Boyd.

  Money I had saved jingled in my pocket. Maybe I could catch a bus. But I didn’t want anyone to know where I was going, and the bus driver might ask why I wasn’t in school.

  The rain had stopped, but the trees still dripped moisture as I walked under them. Someone had left their bicycle out in the rain. If I borrowed it, I’d be able to get to the hospital faster. I wouldn’t be stealing the bike. Just borrowing it for a time.

  I looked to make sure no one was around. Holding my breath, I tiptoed to the bike and quietly raised the kickstand. Wheeling the bike down the grass to the sidewalk, I kept expecting someone to yell at me any minute. Once on the sidewalk, I threw my leg over the bar and started riding.

  Getting to the nursing home took much longer than I expected. By the time I arrived, my legs were tired from all the pedaling. I jammed the bike into the stand and rushed through the doors. Inside, I halted. What now? I didn’t know what room Quatie Raincrow was in.

 
The person at the information desk wore her glasses low on her nose and frowned at the papers she shuffled. I forced myself to take step after step to the desk.

  “Yes?” The woman peered over her glasses at me.

  My heart beat faster. “Um, I’m here to see Quatie Raincrow.”

  “Raincrow.” She punched the name into the computer. “Room 232. Up one level and to the left.”

  That was it? I tried not to show how relieved I was and measured my steps so I didn’t run up the stairs.

  When I reached the closed green painted door with the number 232 on it, I hesitated. What if she was sleeping? Or worse, what if she wouldn’t wake? What if they had lied to me about her condition?

  I closed my eyes and the astringent smell of cleaning supplies mingled with the aroma from the kitchen. I took a deep breath, fueled by the thought of the words Quatie said all the time. If you don’t try, you’ll never know. I grasped the handle and opened the door.

  Dimmer than the hallway, the room had a hushed air, broken by the whisper of a breathing machine, the beeps coming from the monitors and Quatie Raincrow’s labored breathing. My eyes filled with tears to see her, sunken-cheeked, tube taped to her arm, wires running away from the clip on her finger, and oxygen tubes taped to her face. For the first time, I realized Quatie Raincrow was old.

  I stuffed my emotions down. She couldn’t know my sorrow to see her in this condition. It would hurt her. I swallowed hard and shuffled to the chair next to her bed. The door closed and the room darkened.

  When I placed my hand gently over hers, Quatie’s eyes fluttered and she opened them. A smile wrinkled her face and she pressed a button to raise her bed.

  “Praises be. Can I believe my aged eyes?” Her weak voice was difficult to hear over the bed motor. She covered my hand with hers. “Melody, my Atsila.”

  My breath hitched in my throat. Quatie Raincrow’s special name for me had always been Atsila.

  “I have been praying to see you, child. Every day I ask how you are doing.”

  She had been asking about me and no one had told me? “I’ve been asking about you, too.” I wouldn’t tell her they wouldn’t let me call anymore.