God show them light
I’ll pray on my knees
Till bruised and blue
For all I have
Is my faith in You
My children are
Blessings from above
God show them light
Show them Your love
They’re not always with me
I’m not always with them
So in Your Name
I pray Amen
If You hold my children
In the palm of Your hand
They’ll see the light
Footprints in the sand
As the last notes hung in the air, Melody opened her eyes and switched off the player.
Dr. Kane sat with forefingers steepled against his lower lip, his blue eyes clouded in thought. Giving his head a shake, he leaned back in the leather chair. “What a tender and loving song. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.” He nodded toward the speakers. “Play it again.”
Chapter Nine
February 23, 2008 – Melody, age 9
Daddy and I tromped across the twigs, leaves, and rocks on our way back to the truck. We had parked outside the lot in a place Daddy knew about. He said some people didn’t understand about the snakes, so it was better not to advertise what we were after. If they saw the snake stick, they’d be suspicious and might follow us.
I held his hand and thought about what happened back at the creek. How had I known what to sing to calm the snakes? The words and tune had just come out of me. I hadn’t had to think about it.
“Daddy, why do you think the snakes all came to listen to my song?”
His jaw pulsed like it always did when I asked something he didn’t want to answer. “I wish I knew, Melody. I’m still trying to figure how they heard you because they don’t have ears.”
I never thought about that. Hmm. They did hear me, though. Otherwise, they would have slithered away from Daddy into the woods instead of coming toward the creek. Rattlesnakes and copperheads don’t like water so they wouldn’t come in.
“Do you think ...?”
Daddy squeezed my hand. “Not now, sweetheart. I need to block the image of all those sidewinders heading toward my baby.”
I gripped his hand back. “I’m not a baby anymore, Daddy.”
He smiled at me. “You’ll always be my baby girl.”
“Oh, Daddy.” I huffed.
Funny how snakes had always liked me. Even though I never handled them in church, I wasn’t afraid of them. An old memory popped into my head.
“Have I ever sung to snakes before?”
Daddy peered at the sky and angled our path to the left before answering. “When you were about three. Hush, now. We don’t want anyone to hear us.”
Since we were too far from the trails to be heard, his words were nothing more than an excuse not to talk about it. But I remembered...
Laying down the yellow crayon, I smiled at the picture I’d colored. The sun shined on our house, and the flowers sprouted in the garden. Mama would like the happy picture. She’d think the pink, purple, and green with orange polka-dot flowers were beautiful.
I got up to take the picture into the kitchen but remembered she’d asked me to play in the family room while she finished baking. My lower lip slid out. She said the oven would be too hot and I might get burned. So she’d brought out the tub of crayons and a stack of drawing paper and put them on my pink plastic table.
When I’d asked what I should do when I was done coloring, she’d said I could read my books or play with puzzles. Most times I had to ask to get the puzzles out. Mama didn’t like it when the pieces got scattered.
I moved the finished picture to the top of the table and grabbed another piece of paper. But I didn’t feel like coloring anymore. I wanted Mama to see the one I already drawed. I held each crayon over my head and dropped them into the crayon tub. The breeze through the open front door lifted the corner of my picture. I squealed and put the crayon tub on the picture so it wouldn’t blow away.
Now what? I could read. Raksha! I hurried to the bedroom. Mama didn’t want me to leave the family room, but I’d forgotten Raksha Waya. I dove onto the bed and grabbed the stuffed wolf that had slipped down behind my pillow.
“Poor Raksha.” I kissed his nose. “How could I forget you?” Hugging him to my chest, I ran back to the family room. “I’m gonna read you a story, Raksha.”
I stroked his soft fur while searching the bookshelf. “What do you want me to read? You should pick it since you were left alone.”
I held Raksha toward the bookshelf. His nose touched a book.
“Good choice, Raksha. One fish two fish red fish blue fish. I can read you the whole thing by myself.”
We walked to the reading corner and I settled against my special reading pillow and tucked Raksha Waya on my lap. Holding the book out, I opened to the first page. “Can you see the pictures?”
Reading all the words on the page, I pointed to the pictures so Raksha could learn his colors. He told me he didn’t know colors too good, so I had to teach him like Mama had taught me.
When would Daddy be back?
He was getting the wood for the fireplace ready. He said winter would come soon enough and we needed to be prepared. He wouldn’t let me come with him because Mama said I had a cold.
I did a big sniff. My nose was snuffy but I didn’t feel bad. But Mama said the wind outside was too cold for me.
I wanted Mama to finish her baking so she could read me a story with Raksha. Snuggling with Mama was one of my favorite things. I turned the page.
The screen-door opened a crack. I finished reading the page before something dragged across the floor. Why did I hear a rattle?
“Jus’ a minute, Raksha.” I put the book down next to me and looked toward the sounds.
A big snake moved slowly across the floor toward us. Its tongue flicked out like it tasted the air. I stuck my tongue out. Mama’s baking smelled good, but I couldn’t taste it. The snake had squiggly bands on it.
When it got close to my feet, the snake stopped. It pulled its head back and wiggled its rattle. I cuddled Raksha Waya in my arms. The snake might be afraid Raksha would attack, so I sang to the snake. Raksha always liked my singing, so the snake might, too.
Daddy came to the door and grabbed the handle, then stopped. “Melody, be very still, honey.”
What was wrong with Daddy? His eyes looked funny.
“Is that you, Will?” Mama’s footsteps came toward the family room.
The snake flicked its tongue against the bottom of my slippers.
Ew. Who wants to lick the bottom of feet?
Daddy moved toward the entry and put his arm out to stop Mama.
“Melody?” Mama, her voice high and weak, struggled against Daddy’s arm. “I have to get my baby.”
The snake curled around my feet and moved its head next to my ankle.
“I singin’ the snake a song.”
Daddy nodded. “Keep singing, baby girl.”
The snake hissed and wiggled the rattle. Once I started singing again, it stopped making noise and moved a little closer.
Mama looked upset. “Will, do something.”
“Stay calm, Allie. I’m going to get the snake stick and case. Make sure Melody keeps singing because it seems to soothe it.”
The snake slithered along my leg and it tickled. When it reached the pillow, it turned and circled by my knee.
Mama gripped Daddy’s arm and stopped him from leaving. “Will? Help her.”
The snake laid its head across my ankles and closed its eyes. I switched to singing the lullaby Mama sang to me each night. God Show Them Light.
Daddy took Mama’s hand off his arm. “It’s going to sleep. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Daddy moved silently out the door.
Mama’s eyes were big and worried. Maybe she needed the lullaby, too.
“Sing with me, Mama.”
When I spoke, the snake lifted its head, so I sang more. Mama join
ed me, but her voice shook.
Daddy came back with the snake stick and took one step at a time across the family room. He opened the jaw of the stick and slowly lowered it over the snake’s neck.
The jaw whispered across my leg as he closed it and picked up the snake. As Daddy put the snake in the case, Mama ran to me and scooped me up.
“Mama, don’t hug me so tight.”
She stroked my hair and put my head on her shoulder.
“Mama, Raksha is getting squished.”
She pulled her head back and kissed my cheeks. “I was so worried about you, baby.”
“Don’t cry, Mama. Raksha Waya protects me.”
Daddy took the snake out to the shed and came back and hugged Mama and me. Why was everyone so upset?
“Did I do sumpthin’ bad?”
“No, Melody. Mama is happy you’re okay.” She showered me with kisses.
Daddy kissed my cheek. “You were such a brave girl.”
Brave? I wrinkled my nose. “But I didn’t have to be brave. Raksha Waya was with me, an’ he always protects me from bad things. He scared away the monsters in the closet and under the bed.”
Daddy touched my face and his dark eyes stared into mine. “Melody, snakes have poison and can hurt you.”
I shook my head. “He came in to see what Mama was baking and wanted to take a nap.” Remembering my picture, I squirmed. “Mama, let me down. I want to show you sumpthin’.”
She set me down and I grabbed my picture. “Look. I drawed our house.”
Mama took the picture and smiled through her tears. “It’s beautiful, Melody. I’ll put it on the refrigerator so I can see it every day.”
We reached the truck. Daddy unlocked it and put the snake behind the seat. It had been a long time since I had thought about when the snake came into the house.
Mama still sang the lullaby to me.
Chapter Ten
Spring 2015 – Melody, age 16
Melody flipped down the visor to block the sun and opened the mirror cover. She fluffed her bangs and ruffled her hair behind her ears so it cascaded in waves down her back. Her finger brushed her lips, then she pulled a tube of gloss out of her purse.
Mrs. Langdon stopped the car at a red light. “You know you ain’t got no chance with that doc of yours.” She met Melody’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “He’s probably got at least one girlfriend and isn’t gonna be interested in a schoolgirl like you.”
Melody’s cheeks burned. She focused on the visor mirror and raised the gloss wand to her lips.
“’Sides, he won’t want someone who don’t talk. Man’d get tired of doing all the conversatin’, so don’t go gettin’ yer hopes up.”
With deliberation, Melody smoothed the gloss over her lips, plunged the wand back in the tube, and snapped it in her purse.
The light changed and Mrs. Langdon pulled away.
After another look in the mirror, Melody rubbed her lips together to spread the gloss evenly, then flipped the visor back into place.
“I don’ know what the two of you do for two hours every day, anyway. Sit there an’ stare at each other?”
Melody rolled her eyes and turned to watch the passing blocks through the window.
Mrs. Langdon pulled into the parking lot. “I’m not sure he’s doin’ a good job. It’s been a couple weeks and you still ain’t made a peep.”
When the car came to a stop in the parking spot, Melody hopped out before Mrs. Langdon shut off the engine. She shut the door, waved goodbye with a smile, and hurried up the walk to the office.
Lily looked up when she opened the door. “Go on in. He’s ready for you.”
Dr. Kane closed his laptop and stood when she entered.
He waited for her to close and lock the door then swept his arm toward the alcove. “You look nice.”
She grinned as she passed, then plopped in her spot at the end of the couch and crossed her legs.
“I’ve not seen you carry a purse before.” He sat and cocked his head. “Practical, yet stylish. Nice choice.”
Melody ducked her head and turned from his gaze.
He flipped open his notebook. “I’ve been thinking about the lullaby you shared with me last session. It may be time to talk about what happened to your mother.”
Her smile disappeared and a block of ice formed in her stomach.
“Remember, I’m here to help you work through these issues. Nothing can ever compare to the loss of your mother, especially at such a young age.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes, so she focused on his mouth instead.
“Death of a loved one is difficult. We’ll go slow. Nothing I can say will change what happened in the past. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Tears burned but didn’t fall.
“Try closing your eyes. Lean your head back. Take a few deep breaths.”
Melody followed his directions.
“I want you to focus on a good moment at your mother’s funeral. It doesn’t have to be a big moment, just something you remember. Something comforting.”
Melody clutched her music player and opened her eyes a slit to see the navigation menu.
“If you’re going to pick songs, I want to hear them.”
She connected the player to the speakers and pressed play. Leaning back, she listened as “His Eye is on the Sparrow” filled the room.
After the song completed, Dr. Kane tapped the end of his pen against his lips. “I asked you to think about a comforting moment at your mother’s funeral and you picked a song where the refrain talks about being happy and free. Did you feel that way or is it your mother who is happy and free?” He raised his eyebrows and waited a moment. “Still not talking, huh? That’s okay, you shared a memory through music and we just took a step closer to having a conversation.”
He scribbled something on his notepad, then placed the pen at the top. “What I’m going to ask you to do next might be a little harder. I want you to think about how you felt at the funeral.”
Her thumb twitched and she picked up the music player, focused on finding a song.
“Don’t forget to put it on speaker when you push play.”
Melody snapped her head up and gave him a long look. She fumbled with the speaker cable as she pulled it out and pushed the cable back in again. She set down the player, hid her eyes with her fists, and rocked.
“Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.”
His voice helped soothe her. She stopped rocking and took a few breaths. With a trembling finger, she pressed play. The bluesy notes flowed out of the speakers.
You may be gone
And free to fly
But with you gone
I will always cry
For all I love
Has disappeared
Whispers from lips
Are all I hear.
The ignorance of man
Angers me so
Mouths move without thinking
When only God could know
If it was His will
For all I know to be gone
It doesn’t help
When what I feel is wrong.
Tears silently rolled down her face unchecked. Dr. Kane leaned forward, yanked a tissue out of a box, and handed it to her.
I am too young
To feel this way
Forever eclipsed
By a darkened day
The sun doesn’t shine
On me anymore
Afraid of not knowing
What I have to live for.
With no idea
Why do mouths speak
Not knowing themselves
What it is they seek
When passing judgment leaves
God’s eyes on fire
Mouths that move
Make man the liar.
The end result
Is still the same
I am alone
Still in pain
I will stand
At your grave and weep
Without you
No peace
No sleep
The chorus repeated and her shoulders shook as she sobbed.
Chapter Eleven
February 27, 2008 – Melody, age 9
Standing on the gravel path leading to the blue-fronted church, I clutched Raksha Waya to my chest. I hid him in the car on our way over because Uncle Harlan would’ve had a fit, and I couldn’t face today without him. His worn, matted fur helped me feel like I might get through the day.
I swallowed hard. Dressed in an unfamiliar, slightly too large, black dress, I scuffed my toe in the gravel. The last thing I wanted to do was enter the door and join the service. If I didn’t go in soon, my uncle would send Aunt Ruth to fetch me. Or worse, Uncle Harlan would come get me himself.
He couldn’t yell at me in front of the whole congregation for bringing Raksha, could he? Jeb and Samuel had already gone inside. They had to wear a tie with a stark white shirt and black pants for the occasion. Nobody argued with Uncle Harlan about what they wore. He had been in such a bad mood.
Mine wasn’t any better.
Taking a deep breath, I forced my feet to shuffle toward the door. Pastor Wolfson stood inside, beckoning me. As I reached the doorsill, he leaned forward and grasped my hand between his, the hand with the stubby finger on top.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Melody. Sister Harper wants you to know she’ll sing her best to honor your mother.”
Uncle Harlan stormed up behind Pastor Wolfson. “Don’t worry about her feelings, Pastor. She chose to disrespect her mother’s memory.”
My jaw went slack. I would never disrespect Mama’s memory.
Pastor Wolfson straightened. “Brother Ramsey, I don’t quite follow your logic. What on Earth could this blessed child have done?”
I squeezed Rakkie tighter afraid of what Uncle Harlan would say.
“It’s not what she’s done, but what she isn’t doing. You gave her the opportunity to sing for her mother.” His nostrils turned white at the corners. “But instead of giving her mother one last gift, she chose to be selfish and refused to sing.”
What? I hadn’t refused. How could I sing for Mama with a throat so tight I could hardly breathe?
Speak No Evil Page 6