Relative Silence

by Carrie Stuart Parks

  The table started to move. Shrieks of joy came from the elevator.

  The tabletop, jammed into the elevator opening, remained stationary. Slowly the legs extended, moving toward the wall. Once the legs touched the wall, something would have to give. Hopefully it would be the door, not the wall.

  I moved closer so they could hear me. “I don’t know how this will work, but the second this door is open enough to get through, you’ll need to get out. I don’t know how well the wall is going to do with all the pressure on it.”

  “Got it,” Mandy said.

  The legs touched the wall and continued to open. With a crack! the wheels punched through the plasterboard, opening jagged holes.

  I held my breath.

  The table stopped. The engine squealed, grew higher pitched. With a wrenching screech, the door moved an inch. Then another.

  Another inch. The wall sprouted cracks radiating outward from the holes.

  More screeching, another inch. Hannah shoved her body through, and I pulled. She flew outward, stumbling over the prone table. I shoved her free and reached for Mandy.

  The wall started to give way.

  “Mandy, quick!” I grabbed her hand and pulled. The woman cleared the opening and leaped over the table.

  “Tucker!”

  A large crack! and the legs shot outward two inches. The wall was collapsing.

  Tucker shoved his upper body through the opening and reached out both arms. Mandy and I each grabbed one and pulled. If he got stuck and the wall broke through, he’d be cut in half. I put one foot on the table and leaned my weight away from it, pulling the man as hard as I could.

  “Now!” he shouted.

  Another shriek from the hydraulics, a boom! from the wall, and the table legs straightened, smashing the wallboard and framing outward, revealing a metal piling.

  We yanked Tucker’s body clear just as the elevator doors clanked shut.

  The momentum sent Mandy, Tucker, and me backward, landing hard on the wet marble.

  “Ump!” I landed at Hannah’s feet. I looked up with a grin.

  She was sheet white, staring at something to my right. I looked.

  Mildred was leaning her upper body against the edging stones, her shattered legs in front of her. “I suppose you’re going to leave me.”

  “No.” I stood. “We’ll be taking you to higher ground with us.”

  “What?” Tucker said. “She tried to kill us, kill you!”

  “Yes. And she’ll stand trial for all she’s done. But I’m not leaving my aunt here to die.”

  “What?!” This time Tucker, Mandy, and Hannah all spoke together.

  “I don’t have time to explain. We have to—”

  Piggy let out a sharp bark. I turned.

  Mildred’s lips were pulled back into a snarl, her eyes narrowed in hate. She’d somehow reached the pistol and now held it in shaking hands, aimed at Hannah.

  I leaped in front of Mildred, blocking her target.

  She pulled the trigger.

  I launched myself at her, smashing the pistol away.

  Her eyes widened, mouth opened in a scream. One last breath came out before her head dropped and body went limp. Her eyes remained open but now empty of rage. Empty of life.

  I landed next to her and tried not to cry out. The bullet had missed Hannah, but a million stinging scorpions in my side said the slug had still connected.

  “Piper!” Tucker was beside me, lifting me, pushing my hair out of my face. He looked at his hand, now covered in blood. “She shot you!”

  I attempted to smile. “‘It’s just a scratch. I’ve had worse.’ Monty Python—”

  “Piper, stop it. We have to get moving. Just tell me how badly you’re hurt.”

  “1975.”

  “You’re delirious.”

  “I’m not delirious. In pain, yes. Help me up.”

  His mouth dropped. “But—”

  I reached up and closed his mouth. “Tucker, I’m not Superwoman. I’d love to stay here and have you hold me, but we have to move.”

  “Can you make it upstairs?” He carefully lifted me to my feet. The scorpions renewed their stinging.

  Burning tears streamed down my face, hidden by the rain. “This house won’t make it through a direct hit. All it would take is for one piling to weaken and it will go down. We have to make it to the highest point of the island.”

  As if to emphasize my last statement, a blast of wind shook the house and a crashing sound came from somewhere.

  “Let me see.” Before I could stop him, Tucker had lifted my shirt and checked my injury. “The bullet looks like it passed through your side. Hopefully it didn’t nick anything important.” He slipped off his shirt, ripped it in half, folded it, and pressed it to my side. Bees joined the scorpions. I hissed under my breath.

  “How are we goin’ to make it?” Mandy asked. “Y’all are injured—”

  “We’ll make it, I promise,” I said as firmly as I could. “We’ll go outside, then I’ll go in front because I know the way. I’ll lean on Nana here. Mandy, you put your hand on my shoulder and your arm around Tucker to help him. Hannah, you get on the other side of Nana and hold on to him. You can put Piggy inside your jacket.”

  Before they could come up with any arguments, I moved toward the door. “Watch for blowing branches and debris. Hopefully we won’t have to deal with falling trees, palms, or palmettos. Let’s go.” I called Nana over and took hold of his collar. The others followed.

  Outside, the wind was a solid wall of force driving the rain sideways. Walking was torture. I cradled my side and clung to Nana. Mandy gripped my shoulder, and Hannah’s hand slipped through Nana’s collar next to mine.

  The lights in the house went out, leaving us in a swirling blackness.

  “Nana, take me to Joyce!” I shouted over the wind. The dog started walking.

  Chapter 31

  Tucker rested his arm over the diminutive Mandy’s shoulder and leaned on her to walk. She may have been small, but she was strong and tough. Just like Piper.

  All the lights went out, plunging them into darkness. The wind and rain, combined with flying branches, leaves, and sand, pelted them. Even standing upright was difficult. He didn’t see how they’d possibly maneuver across the island in pitch blackness before the full brunt of the storm hit. He’d never prayed so hard in all his life.

  They awkwardly navigated the path, him limping and Mandy trying to provide support and keep up with Piper. Nana’s furry rump was slightly in front of him. Talking was out of the question, the words snatched from his mouth before they’d been formed.

  He resumed praying.

  * * *

  I’d sounded so brave and wise when I told the others the house wasn’t safe. I’d somehow assumed I could feel the crunch of the crushed-shell path under my feet and know when we were walking in an area free of foliage. I hadn’t thought of the organic rubble blown onto the trail, nor the projectiles that felt like we were fending off a volley of enemy arrows. At least I could tell the ground was rising slightly. I was physically drained, and every step sent a burning knife into my side. But I had to keep my promise to get everyone to safety.

  I tried to bargain with God again. I’d offered to spend the rest of my life worshiping Him in exchange for Dove. His answer had been no. “God,” I whispered, “this isn’t for me this time. Just help me get Hannah, Tucker, and Mandy to safety. Oh, and Nana and Piggy. I can’t do this alone. And right now I need help . . .” My throat felt raw.

  I stumbled and let go of Nana, then immediately grabbed for his collar. He had stopped. When he felt my hand, he started walking again. Again I stumbled and fell forward, catching myself before my face planted into the ground. The earth was rock hard under my hands. Hard like . . . cement. Could it be? Joyce’s porch. I groped around until I found the wall of the house. Yes! I turned so the house was behind me, then crawled back to the edge of the porch. Mandy should be straight ahead. I found her legs. She flinch
ed, then touched my hair.

  I stood, put my face near where I thought her ear might be, and yelled, “We’re here! Straight ahead.” Locating Nana, who rewarded me with a soggy lick, I again grabbed his collar and let him show me the door. I banged my hand on the hurricane panel. The porch afforded us some slight protection from the rain, and we huddled next to the building. “There’s a drawbar holding this shut.”

  Tucker moved next to me and felt around until he found the bar, then lifted it and set it aside. His arm slipped around me and he held me close for a moment before opening the panel, then the door. I could feel his warmth even as he moved away.

  “Can we turn on the lights?” Hannah sounded as exhausted as I felt.

  I felt for the wall, found the light switch, and flipped it a few times. “Looks like the electricity is out. I think there’s an oil lamp on the desk . . .” Hands out in front of me, I felt for the desk. My leg found it first. “Ump. Found it.” The oil lamp was where I remembered it. Opening the desk drawer, I felt for matches. Unsuccessfully. “Hannah, did you find matches when you spent the night here?”

  “No. But there’s a flashlight in the kitchen. Ouch!”

  “The living room is full of outdoor furniture,” I said. “Watch your step. As for the kitchen, I searched it earlier. Everything’s on the counter.”

  “I’ll check out the bedroom,” Mandy said.

  “I’m staying put until you find some kind of light,” Tucker said. “I have no idea where anything is.”

  I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me. “Good idea.”

  The gale outside shook and whistled around the house while the endless rain thundered on the metal roof. We created our own din thumping and banging around for a light. Shortly a pale yellow beam cut through the darkness. “Found it, but the batteries look low,” Hannah said.

  A loud bang! came from the porch.

  “We don’t have time to look for more batteries.” I pointed. “That sounded like a tree coming down. We need to move into the concrete bedroom.”

  I didn’t have to repeat myself. Tucker and Hannah spurted to the room. “Nana, come on.” The dog cheerfully trotted after me.

  Crash!

  I shrieked and spun. The kitchen had disintegrated under the thick trunk of a palm tree. Wind slammed into the room, bringing torrents of rain.

  Tucker yanked me into the bedroom and slammed the door. “How strong are these walls?”

  “Hopefully strong enough.” He hadn’t let go of me but was studying me in the dim light. “What? Do I have something on my face?” I reached up to check, but he shook his head and let go.

  The ground shook.

  Both Nana and Piggy started barking. “What was that?” Hannah’s voice was high pitched.

  The door rattled and shook. The dogs increased their baying.

  “I’d venture to say we made it just in time,” Mandy yelled over the clamoring canines. “Sounds like Hurricane Marco just hit Curlew Island.”

  Chapter 32

  Tucker and Mandy shoved the dresser in front of the door along with the chair and nightstand. I leaned against the wall and tried to think of something besides my throbbing side. The hurricane sounded like a locomotive train rushing past. The metal shutters over the windows rattled and grated against each other, adding to the cacophony.

  I’d stripped the bed earlier and covered it with Joyce’s clothing. Mandy and I gathered the clothes and tossed them onto the chair. Hannah corralled Piggy and took refuge on the bed. Mandy and I joined her. Tucker was the last to crawl on the bed and prop himself against the headboard. Hannah wiggled next to him and he put his arm around her. I thought about snuggling up on the other side of him. I ended up at the foot of the bed, my swollen leg stretched out in front of me.

  “How long will this go on?” Hannah asked.

  “It will seem like forever.” Mandy grabbed a pillow and wrapped her arms around it. “But I expect it’ll move on in a couple of hours. High tide will be somewhere between five forty-five and six in the morning. Don’t have my chart so I can’t be exact. That’s when things can get dicey. Why don’t ya turn off the light for a bit. Save what little battery we have.”

  Hannah complied.

  “How are you doing, Piper?” Tucker asked.

  “About how you’d expect. I don’t suppose any of you have an aspirin?”

  “No.” Mandy cleared her throat. “I have to ask. Why’d you say Mildred was your aunt?”

  “A whole bunch of things came together in my brain.” I shifted, trying to find a comfortable angle. “I found a piece of paper that had an impression on it that Raven had hidden. Then there was the movie Giant, a photograph of my grandparents, and a christening gown.”

  “You’re not okay, Piper,” Mandy said. “You’re ramblin’.”

  “No.” I gave up on comfortable. “I found a photograph of my grandparents dated 1955. They were with a nurse holding a baby in the family’s heirloom christening gown. I thought the baby was my mother.”

  “Okay,” Tucker said.

  “But when I mentioned the movie Giant to Mildred the other day, she reminded me that 1956 was the year of Mother’s birth. The only reason the family’s heirloom gown would be on another baby is that it was another member of the family. I do remember Joel saying that Mildred’s mother worked for my mother’s family and that Caroline was like a sister to Mildred. I just didn’t think that was literal. I think my grandfather and my father both had an eye for other women. With Grandfather, it was the housekeeper. The torn paper from the print looked like the edge of a birth certificate. Maybe Raven found it and was trying to decide what to do about it.”

  “Why didn’t your family just acknowledge that Mildred was an illegitimate child?” Mandy asked.

  “Pride, I suppose. Both of my grandparents died very young. I’m sure they didn’t confide in Mother about an older half sister. Mildred must have found out and decided to get even—and very rich.”

  “How?” Hannah asked.

  “Tucker, both you and I came to the same theory—that the last surviving member of the family would own Boone Industries. But everyone had to die first in such a way as to not leave any loose ends.”

  “That awful woman was aiming at me,” Hannah said. “You saved my life.”

  Lord, does that count for anything? I almost gave my life for Hannah’s. Can You change Your mind and give me back my daughter? “I don’t really know who she was aiming at.”

  “Did y’all know she was crazier than a pet coon?” Mandy asked.

  “No. I knew she would give her life for my family. I didn’t know she’d be willing to take lives.”

  “Do you think she murdered the old lady at the condo?” Tucker asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. The old lady saw a man she assumed was Raven’s husband around the condo. She could have identified him later. I believe Mildred killed both of my sisters, my father, Silva, and . . . Dove.” I wouldn’t mention Joyce just yet. Hannah had enough to deal with.

  “Hannah, you’re shaking,” Tucker said. “Are you cold?”

  “No. Just . . . scared.”

  “Maybe you could sing for us. I don’t think Piper’s heard your voice.”

  “That would be lovely,” I said.

  Hannah started to sing in a clear, silvery voice. Mandy and Tucker joined in on “Amazing Grace.” Several more hymns followed, then she got us all singing a slightly off-key version of “California Dreaming.”

  “That was fun,” Mandy said. “Do ya know ‘Drop Kick Me, Jesus, Through the Goalposts of Life’?”

  “That’s not even a song!” Hannah said.

  “Is too,” Mandy said.

  “Not!”

  “I’m afraid Mandy’s correct,” Tucker said. “Written by Bobby Bare, who also brought us ‘Redneck Hippie Romance.’”

  Hannah giggled. “Okay, I have one. I don’t know what the words mean.” She cleared her throat.

  “You are my anja, my so-may, my fend
.

  I’ll be right wid-jou tee-da n.

  N wen-jou fee the somy-gay,

  I’ll keep you safee on the tay

  Our see-son to-gay

  Will be fo-ee,

  My anja.”

  All the hairs on my neck stood on end. I couldn’t breathe. An ice pick rammed into my heart. “H-Hannah . . . where did you learn that song?”

  “I think my mother sang it to me.”

  In a trembling voice, I sang,

  “You are my angel, my soul mate, my friend. I’ll be right with you till the end.

  And when you fear the stormy gale,

  I’ll keep you safely on the trail.

  Our season together

  Will be forever,

  My angel.”

  “You know the song!” Hannah said.

  “I wrote that song. For my daughter, Dove.”

  * * *

  Tucker felt his mouth drop open. “I would guess that Joyce—”

  “Joyce never heard me sing it.” Piper’s voice was breathless. “No one but Dove ever did.”

  “We found out,” Mandy said, “that Mildred could overhear and listen in on everything going on in the house. She must have heard you sing and—”

  “No, no, no! Hannah sang the song with the words she understood, the words a toddler would use.”

  The identification of the song was chilling, but Tucker needed to bring Piper back to reality. “What about the body of the child, the DNA, the hairbrush?”

  The bed bounced slightly as Piper shifted her weight. “That was Raven’s key.”

  “I don’t understand any of this.” Hannah’s voice was high pitched.

  “Let me try to explain.” Piper was silent for a few moments.

  Tucker imagined the storm raging around them was as tumultuous as the tempest within Piper. He didn’t know if he could bear her trying to resurrect her daughter.

  “Tucker, you saw the home movie taken by Ashlee of Raven and me on the beach. Mildred confirmed they had an affair.”