Speak No Evil

by Liana Gardner

  My knee bounced as she finally removed the tape and opened the wrapping to reveal the gift inside.

  “Oh my, Melody. You made this?” She pulled the pine cone wreath out of the paper.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s the most beautiful wreath I’ve ever had.” She held it at arm’s length. “We won’t put it on the door until after the storm blows through. I don’t want it to tumble off in the wind and break. Thank you.”

  I knew she’d like it.

  “Your present is in the cupboard. Go ahead and open it.”

  When I opened the cupboard, there were two gifts. I turned my head toward Quatie. “Both of them?”

  She nodded. “Open the big one first.”

  I ripped the paper off a new hand-knit sweater and Quatie cringed. She had always told me the Grandfathers didn’t like anything to be wasted. “Don’t worry ... I’ll roll these into spills to use for the fire. The paper won’t go to waste.”

  She laughed. “You do my soul good.”

  “Thank you for the sweater.” I held it against me. She’d bought the yarn I’d been eyeing every time we went to the shop. A variegated green, blue, rust, orange yarn knitted into the most gorgeous sweater I’d ever seen. She must have knit it while I was at school because I’d never seen a scrap of the yarn left out.

  I laid the sweater aside and turned the other package over in my hands.

  “Go ahead. Open it.”

  After I tore the paper off, I was shocked to see a music player and headphones inside. I glanced at Quatie Raincrow, my mouth wide open. “Are you serious?” She’d never given me a store-bought present before.

  She smiled. “Music is your gift. You should have something to keep it with you always.”

  Wow.

  She cleared her throat. “I already started your collection for you. I’ve been writing down songs that you sing around the house and asked them to help me load it at the music store.”

  With trembling fingers, I turned the unit on and scrolled through the artists. My grip tightened at one of the names. I couldn’t catch my breath. “My name is on here.”

  My voice sounded weird, like it was trying to squeeze through my closed-off throat.

  “I tracked down Thomas Hill. He still had the track you made of ‘Amazing Grace’, so I asked him to put it on your player.”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks. Mama and Daddy were on my player. I plugged the headphones in and navigated to the song. And there we were. Daddy playing guitar. Mama on the piano. And the five-year-old me, who had no idea how her life would turn out, singing her heart out. The tears kept coming. I couldn’t stop them.

  As soon as the song finished, I clicked back to play it again.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you, child. I thought you’d like it.”

  She didn’t understand, but my throat was so choked up, I couldn’t talk. I turned the volume up as the song came to a close.

  There. At the end of the song, faintly, Daddy’s voice. “Good job, baby.”

  It had been so long since I had heard Daddy’s voice; I almost couldn’t remember it anymore. Now I didn’t have to remember. I could hear it when I needed to. I wished Mama had said something, but I’d have to settle for hearing her play the piano and remember how much she loved me.

  I took a couple of sips of cocoa to help me stop the tears. Then I ran to Quatie Raincrow and hugged her as tight as I could. “Thank you.”

  She stroked my hair. “Merry Christmas, Melody.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Spring 2015 – Melody, age 16

  When she finished talking, Melody dared to peek at Roger. His eyes were wide and his jaw slack.

  “Wait ... the ‘Amazing Grace’ you played for me before was you singing? What about the a cappella song about snakes?”

  She nodded. “It’s my song.” She bit back a laugh as the cute furrows between his brows appeared ... a sure sign he didn’t understand what she meant. “I made it up one day when I was out hunting with my daddy.”

  Roger straightened and gave her a sideways look. “How old were you when you wrote the song?”

  Melody’s smile faltered. The raging sense of loss and overwhelming heartbreak rose out of the desert of her past, like a snake ready to strike and swallow her whole. She buried her face in her hands to wait out the tidal wave of emotion threatening to drown her.

  Rebecca smoothed the hair back from Melody’s face. “Are you okay, honey?”

  She jerked away from Rebecca’s touch and dashed to the window. She begged the serenity and calm of the trees to act as a balm on her soul, to give her a sense of peace over the past. Please God, heal my bleeding heart. Oh Grandfathers, hear my pleas and let me feel the stillness amid the storm.

  Melody poured her heart out in prayer. But the darkness roiled and slithered surrounding her, pulling her into its depths.

  “Melody?”

  Roger’s voice barely penetrated the blackness enveloping her—the sound muffled and indistinct.

  “Don’t shut us out. Use music if you need to, but tell us what is happening.”

  Her fingers closed on the music player in her pocket. “No Power In Me” described where she was, but the walls closed in. If she didn’t get out of there, they’d crush her ... or the darkness would swallow her whole. She couldn’t catch her breath and sweat drenched her body.

  She turned from the window and the door lit up like a beacon—safety and escape rolled into one. She bolted past Rebecca and Roger, unlocked the door and raced through the waiting room to the outside. Once outside she could breathe, but couldn’t stop running. The darkness would catch her and consume her.

  She dashed around the building and sprinted past the pond. Stopping for a moment, she looked at the sky. Her mountains were calling. It had been too long. The road to the left went downtown. She turned to the right and ran along the side of the road.

  Free from the city, Melody still had a long way to go, but her steps faltered to a walk with a stitch in her side. At least she had worn sneakers and jeans today. She had outrun the darkness but needed the solace of the mountain laurel alongside the streams. Too much had happened. And when Roger had asked her how old she was when she’d made up the rattlesnake song, the day had flooded back—the thrill of hunting with Daddy, being chased by the vipers, seeing Mama walking with the strange man—with Death, the snake biting Mama, Daddy making her sing the snake song while Mama died, and Daddy leaving her ... never to return.

  Rebecca being there made it worse. She had been there through too many of the losses Melody had had throughout her life. The loss of Quatie Raincrow was second only to Mama and Daddy.

  A car behind her slowed instead of passing. Melody shot a look over her shoulder. Adrenaline flooded through her. Rebecca. How had she found her?

  Melody veered into the brush beside the road and forced her feet to run.

  Rebecca pulled the car onto the shoulder and stopped. The car door slammed. “Melody, wait.”

  Melody didn’t bother to look back but sprinted forward. Over her ragged breath, Rebecca’s footsteps crunched in the gravel. The ache in her side clawed at her lungs like the swipe of a bear’s paw. Clutching her side, she dashed into the trees.

  Her feet hit a tree root while her eyes tried to adjust to the sudden change in light. She sprawled into the moss and dirt. Before she could get her feet back under her, Rebecca caught up.

  “Please stop running, Melody.” Rebecca leaned forward, propping herself up by her knees and panting. “I’ll take you where you want to go. Just get in the car. We’ll do this together.”

  Melody stared into her eyes. Could she trust Rebecca?

  Rebecca held out her hand. When Melody grabbed it, Rebecca pulled her to her feet. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Home.” Melody bit her lip, hoping Rebecca understood.

  Rebecca gave her a wry smile. “You don’t mean my house.” She glanced at the road. “And based on your direction, I’m going
to say you were headed back to the mountains.”

  Relief made Melody’s knees weak. She wouldn’t have to explain. She wasn’t sure she could.

  Rebecca put her arm across Melody’s shoulders. “Let’s get in the car. I can’t take you to your old house. Someone else lives there now. But we’ll find a good place for you to refresh.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Rebecca pulled off the highway on the road to Grandfather Mountain. How could she have known?

  “I thought maybe if we hiked on one of the mountain paths you used to climb, it would feel like home.”

  Melody struggled to find her voice.

  Rebecca held up her hand. “Quatie told me you used to talk about Grandfather Mountain and I made a note in your file. I’m glad I did.”

  When they got out of the car, Melody glanced at Rebecca’s shoes. She wore a skirt suit, and usually dress shoes weren’t good for hiking.

  Rebecca smirked and held her foot up to show off a leather shoe with a square heel. “In this job, if I’ve learned nothing else over the years, I’ve learned the value of wearing shoes that can go the distance.” She raised an eyebrow. “After all, you never know when you’re going to have to chase a teenager down a mountain road.”

  Melody turned her head and bit back a smile. At least Rebecca didn’t seem angry.

  They walked together along the path in the afternoon sunlight. Just breathing the mountain air helped the tension from the day fall away. As they crossed the creek, Melody saw umbrella petals ahead. She rushed forward, tears standing in her eyes. She touched the blooms and remembered when she used to “play music” on the mountain laurels and sing the song in her heart at the time.

  Rebecca placed her hand on Melody’s shoulder. “The laurels are beautiful. Well worth the hike.”

  A gentle breeze kissed the leaves and ruffled through the flowers. Melody’s soul felt at peace and speaking was easier.

  She asked what she’d never had the guts to ask Rebecca before. “Do you ever think about Quatie?”

  Rebecca massaged the base of Melody’s neck. “All the time. She was like my mother for half my childhood and beyond ... even when I left her care. I’d give anything to hear her voice one more time. To talk to her and tell her how life is going.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “We’ve never talked about the day you called me because Quatie was sick.”

  The words hung in the air. Melody’s throat closed. She couldn’t talk about the second most horrific day of her life.

  “Dr. Kane told me songs hold meaning to you for events in your life. You don’t have to share it with me if you don’t want to. I won’t pressure you. But do you have a song for that day?”

  Melody faced Rebecca and stared into her eyes. After a long moment, she nodded. After pulling the music player out of her pocket, she stared at it. Without speakers, she couldn’t share it with Rebecca. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  That wasn’t true. Rebecca was the one person she could share with who would truly understand. Roger listened and understood far more than she had expected, but he hadn’t known Quatie Raincrow and had already proven he didn’t understand how important she was.

  Rebecca knew. Daddy had told her true understanding came when you could walk in someone else’s shoes. As a child, she hadn’t understood what he’d meant. But standing here in front of the laurel, she remembered his words.

  She and Rebecca had shared the experience together, so she was the best person to understand how much the song meant.

  “Melody, it’s all right. If you’re not ready to share ... I shouldn’t have asked. But like you, I miss Quatie and hoped you had something to help us both feel her presence more closely.” She squeezed Melody’s shoulders. “Like you did with the Christmas song. I’d heard it before, but never knew why I loved it so much. You showed me that today, so thank you.”

  Melody fished out her headphones and uncoiled them. Fully extended, there were about three and a half to four feet between the earbuds. Maybe if they both used a bud? She stuffed the left bud in her ear and handed the right to Rebecca.

  “Are you sure?”

  Melody took a deep breath. “Yes. I want to share with you.” She navigated to the song while Rebecca put in her earbud.

  As if time sat still

  While the Earth still turns

  With fire in the sky

  Tragedy burns

  Minutes ago

  There was peace in the air

  Blood on the ground

  Too much to bear

  Melody paused the music. The stream gurgled as the water flowed past and the scent from the mountain laurels danced on the breeze. Quatie loved nature and Melody felt her presence with them. She would have loved hiking Grandfather Mountain, just as Daddy had.

  “Quatie had never been sick before. Not in the nearly four years I lived with her.” She stroked a blossom and inhaled the sweet perfume. “Not even a case of the sniffles ... not until then. She wanted creosote tea and I felt as if I were moving through molasses. I couldn’t get there and back fast enough. Everything moved in slow motion.”

  Rebecca squeezed her hand.

  Melody pressed play.

  Heart beating fast

  Body goes numb

  Feeling so helpless

  I cannot run

  Oh God please help

  Stop what I see

  I pray but there’s

  No power in me

  “That’s exactly how I felt. What power did I have to help? I was just a kid.”

  Rebecca used two fingers to rub out the wrinkles in her forehead. “But honey, I felt so much the same trying to get to you and Quatie as quickly as I could. Never has the drive taken so long.”

  Knowing Rebecca had felt the same way helped somehow. She sang along with the next verse and chorus.

  So close I can taste it

  But can’t change a thing

  My mind is in motion

  But I have a broken wing

  Pinning me down

  To damaged ground

  Above the flames

  Where the devil’s bound

  Heart beating fast

  Body goes numb

  Feeling so helpless

  I cannot run

  Oh God please help

  Stop what I see

  I pray but there’s

  No power in me

  “I prayed so hard ... to both God and the Grandfathers ... but if they heard it, they didn’t answer.”

  Sirens cry

  Piercing ears

  Paralyzed

  And raining tears

  Red lights spinning

  Round my dizzy head

  Can’t do a thing

  But bury the dead

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  December 22, 2011 – Melody, age 12

  I dropped my bike at the edge of the road and splashed through the puddles across the yard. My chest heaved from the fastest bike ride I’d ever taken. I checked to make sure I still had the package safely tucked inside my jacket. Though I was soaked to the skin from the rain, I didn’t worry about the package because it was in a plastic bag.

  Movement beyond the house caught my eye. Who would be walking through our woods on such a dreary day? I didn’t have time to worry about it. I needed to get back to Quatie Raincrow—fast.

  I barely stopped to use the mud chucker before pounding up the porch steps. I pulled the packet of leaves out of my jacket and tossed it on the counter, grabbed the kettle and filled it. I lit the burner and put the kettle on to boil.

  After racing into the family room, I skidded to a stop. Quatie Raincrow sat under a blanket in her chair, head lolling forward, eyes closed, skin pale, unmoving. I couldn’t catch my breath.

  A rumbling cough racked her body.

  Thank God and the Grandfathers. I slid on my knees next to her chair and patted her arm. “I have the creosote leaves and the water is heating.” She made no response. “Quatie?”

  Her labored breathi
ng marred the quiet.

  I shook her shoulder gently. “Quatie ... please wake up.”

  A scream sounded from the kitchen. I had forgotten about the water. Tearing myself away from Quatie, I dashed back to the kitchen. The steam poured out the spout and the whistle hurt my ears. I flipped off the burner, put some leaves in the pot and poured in the hot water.

  I glanced out the window as I reached for a big mug from the top shelf. A strange man stood at the edge of the woods, watching the house. I set the mug on the counter and rushed to the door to make sure it was locked. We’d never had any problems out here, but he creeped me out. Standing there, staring. What did he want?

  I placed the tea strainer over the mug and poured the tea. A quick glance out the window showed the man standing in the same place, hand in his pocket, waiting. For what?

  Taking care not to spill, I took the hot tea into Quatie. I set the mug on the side table and tried to rouse her, but couldn’t.

  I grabbed the phone and ran back into the kitchen to dig out Quatie’s phonebook. Why did she even have the thing? She never used the phone unless she couldn’t help it. She said she had to have a phone or I couldn’t stay.

  I flipped through the mostly clean pages to find Miss Prescott’s number. Relief coursed through me when I saw Quatie had both her office and her cell phone. I didn’t bother with the office phone number. With the holidays approaching, Miss Prescott was unlikely to be at work.

  I held my breath as the phone rang, waiting for her to pick up. As soon as I heard the answering click, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “Miss Prescott, this is Melody. Quatie Raincrow is sick and she won’t wake up. I made her creosote tea, but ...” A sob escaped. “I can’t...”

  “Melody, slow down, hon. I can’t understand you. Take a deep breath.”

  I took a huge, shuddering breath. “Quatie Raincrow is sick and is asleep in her chair, but I can’t wake her up to drink the tea she asked me to get.”

  “Is she ...?”