Speak No Evil

by Liana Gardner

Pastor Wolfson held up his hands. “No, you misunderstood, Brother Ramsey. I only asked Melody if she wanted to sing because if it would help her deal with the situation, I wanted her to know she could.”

  Uncle Harlan opened his mouth to respond, but his gaze dropped to Raksha Waya. He spluttered and his face darkened. “You’re not bringing that filthy thing inside.” The vein along his forehead popped.

  My head drooped. I couldn’t do this without Raksha.

  Pastor Wolfson put his hand on my shoulder. “Brother Ramsey, I think it’s fine. A time like this a girl needs a friend.” He smiled at me. “I’m sure her friend won’t make any disturbance.”

  Uncle Harlan frowned and anger lines ran from his nose to his chin. “All right. Go sit with your cousins.”

  I hurried down the aisle as people whispered behind me.

  Poor girl.

  Such a sad thing to happen.

  So lucky to have such a devout uncle like Brother Ramsey to take her in.

  I nearly choked. How could anyone call me lucky? My heart and spirit were broken and I was lost and alone. Swallowing hard, I forced back the tears. Uncle Harlan had already told me fifty times tears weren’t going to change anything, and I dishonored God’s will by being sad.

  God’s will? Every time he said it, anger flamed through me. This wasn’t God’s will ... it couldn’t be. Or God was a terrible and mean God, who wanted to hurt his children.

  I sat at the front next to Samuel, pressing my arms to my sides so I wouldn’t touch him and give him any reason to pester me. Uncle Harlan would blame me, and he’d probably blow up if anything happened during the service.

  Settling Rakkie on my lap, I raised my head. My eyes filled with tears. Mama’s casket. Plain with clear-varnished wood and brass fittings, it gleamed in the dim light. A cross of white roses and lilies lay across the casket lid. Uncle Harlan and Aunt Ruth wouldn’t listen when I told them Mama would want pink mountain laurel. They were her favorite after Daddy and I planted them next to the house.

  My heart hitched. Daddy. Where was he? When was he coming back? He wouldn’t leave me forever ... would he? I needed him. Fear twisted my stomach. He’d move heaven and earth to be here for me today, unless ... I swallowed a sob.

  The whispered hush quieted when Pastor Wolfson stood in front of the pulpit and held up his hand. He wore the deep blue vest Mama had always liked over his light-blue, long-sleeved shirt.

  “Friends, neighbors, and family of Allison Ramsey Fisher, we gather today to honor her memory and say our goodbyes.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek and dropped on Rakkie’s back.

  “Sister Fisher was a beloved member of this church and community, and we shall all feel the loss since she is no longer here to walk among us.” He gripped the sides of the pulpit and stared at the ground for a moment before continuing. “She had the most special smile of anyone I have had the privilege of knowing. It came from her pure heart.”

  And I’d never see Mama’s smile again.

  “I’d like to open Allison’s memorial service with these words from Mary Frye—words I had the pleasure of discussing with Allison one morning after a church service.”

  A pew creaked, marring the moment of silence.

  “Her heart had been heavy about the loss of one of our members, and she shared these words with me as having helped her deal with her grief.”

  He shuffled papers, then closed his eyes for a moment before reciting the words.

  Do not stand at my grave and cry,

  I am not there, I did not die,

  I am the thousand winds that blow,

  I am the diamond glint on snow,

  When you awaken in the morning hush,

  I am the swift uplifting rush,

  Of quiet birds in circled flight,

  I am bright stars that shine at night,

  I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

  I am the gentle autumn rain.

  Do not stand at my grave and weep,

  I am not there, I do not sleep.

  My heart felt so heavy I couldn’t listen to Pastor Wolfson anymore. The words bounced off me. I could do nothing more than stare at the casket. Mama was locked inside ... in the dark.

  Was she with God? Did she go into the light? Or was her spirit still here, watching us as we prayed for her soul?

  Sister Harper joined Pastor Wolfson at the front. Mama used to say that Sister Harper’s smile could light the way in a coal mine. But today she didn’t smile at all. Before she sang, she looked directly into my eyes and the warmth of her heart comforted mine.

  I couldn’t understand why Uncle Harlan got mad when I told Pastor Wolfson no ... he never wanted me to sing in church. He thought I sang for my own glory. But Mama always said my voice was a gift and by singing I brought glory to God.

  Singing for Mama would have been too hard. Not here. Not now. I’d sing for her but would do it alone. Where it would be a song just for her and me. And I’d sing one for Daddy, too ... wherever he was.

  After Sister Harper’s solo, Pastor Wolfson laid his hand on her arm. “Let’s let one of Sister Fisher’s favorite hymns, ‘His Eye is on the Sparrow’, speak to our hearts.”

  Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,

  Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,

  When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:

  His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;

  His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

  I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,

  For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

  “Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear,

  And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;

  Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;

  His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;

  His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

  The congregation went into the chorus again. Mama had sung the song around the house while cleaning or cooking. She used to rock me to sleep and would sing it like a lullaby.

  Mama loved the mountain and hearing the birds in the trees, the way the breeze bent the grasses down by the creek. How would I make it through without hearing her voice ever again? All I wanted to do was curl up on the floor and cry my heart out. I hugged Raksha Waya closer. He’d have to be my family from now on.

  When the service finished and the bearers had carried Mama’s casket out, Pastor Wolfson came over and put his hand with the stubby finger on my shoulder.

  “I want you to know how much your mother will be missed, Melody. She’s with God now. And if you ever need to talk, I’ll be here to listen.”

  He tried to be kind, but I didn’t want Mama to be with God. I still needed her. How could she leave me?

  We drove to the cemetery and Pastor Wolfson read verses over the grave about there being a time for everything. It wasn’t Mama’s time to die. It wasn’t.

  She still had stuff to do on earth. I prayed as hard as I could for God to send Mama back to me. He could do miracles, right? If Jesus rose from the dead, then why couldn’t God do the same for Mama?

  Maybe He’d do it at Easter. That’s when Jesus had come back. Mama would have to wait a little longer to rise from the dead than Jesus had, but if I prayed hard every night and Raksha Waya prayed with me, God would answer my prayers.

  When they lowered the casket into the ground, I gripped Rakkie tight. I didn’t want to say goodbye. Would she be able to get out if they put dirt on top of her? Jesus had to move a big stone out of the way, so Mama should be able to dig her way out. She liked digging in the garden.

  How many days would it be until Easter? It had to be coming soon because we had already done the ceremony with the ashes. I’d have to ask Pastor Wolfson. He’d know. Then I could put it on my calendar and mark off each day. And each day marked off would remind me to pray to tell God I
wanted him to give me Mama back. And Daddy.

  The service finally finished. Aunt Ruth put her hand on my back and led me toward the car.

  “Wait, Aunt Ruth.” I ran to Pastor Wolfson.

  He grabbed my hand in both of his. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Melody.”

  “I have a question.”

  He smiled. “How may I help you?”

  I felt Uncle Harlan staring at my back but didn’t want to turn around and make eye contact. I had to get an answer first. Then I could go back to his house.

  “What day is Easter this year?”

  Pastor Wolfson’s eyebrows rose. “That’s not the question I expected, but Easter Sunday is March twenty-third.”

  With two days left in February, that meant I only had to wait twenty-five more days. I’d better start praying to God and letting him know all the reasons I needed Mama back.

  I climbed into the car next to the boys and didn’t even care when Samuel pinched me. I had a plan.

  Chapter Twelve

  Spring, 2015 – Melody, age 16

  Melody gripped the crumpled tissue and balled it in her fist. Her tears no longer flowed, but they were still close to the surface.

  Dr. Kane handed her a bottle of cold water. “Take a sip and you’ll feel better. It’s hard to face the memories of a life-changing loss, so take a moment and collect yourself.”

  The ice-cold of the bottle seeped into her hand. The cap made a snapping sound as she twisted it off. She took a long drink and her throat relaxed, but the cold water made her teeth ache.

  Dr. Kane ran both hands through his hair as he leaned back in his chair. “Are you doing better?”

  She nodded.

  He flicked his wrist and checked his watch. “Believe it or not, we still have a lot of time left in our session. Thank you for sharing something you felt so deeply. It was a powerful and emotional song.” He gave a quick frown and settled his glasses more firmly in place. “But I think you need a break from thinking about the funeral.” He flipped through the pages in her folder.

  “You spent about a week with your uncle after your mother’s death before going into foster care?” He made a notation on his pad. “It’s not unheard of, but it is unusual. Let me see ...”

  He reached over his chair and hefted an accordion file onto his lap. He dug through the contents. “Usually you would stay with family unless there was a reason you shouldn’t. Why would you be removed from your uncle’s house after a week?”

  Melody twiddled with the navigation menu.

  Dr. Kane raised a finger in the air. “Uh-uh.”

  She connected the player to the speakers and fast-forwarded on the song. When it reached the right place, she hit play.

  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

  She pressed pause.

  Dr. Kane narrowed his eyes. “Same song, but only the tail end of the second verse. And I get it ... you feel alone and in pain with the loss of your mother and disappearance of your father.” He ran his fingers along the scruff on his jaw and stared off into space for a moment.

  “I wonder how you felt about living with your uncle and his family.” His words were spoken more to himself than to her.

  She hit the reverse button on the player and after spot-checking a couple of times, pressed play.

  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.

  Melody jabbed the pause button again.

  His blue eyes pierced through her.

  After staring, Dr. Kane shook his head and went back to digging through the accordion file. “For a second it felt almost like we were having a conversation. Sounds as if you didn’t like your uncle much.” He yanked up the corner of a paper and peered at it before shoving it back in the file. “I’m trying to find the initial report filed by your caseworker, Rebecca Prescott, on why you were placed into foster care. It has to be in here somewhere. I imagine it was a rough day for you. No matter the reason.”

  Melody bit her lower lip, then took a deep breath and pressed play.

  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.

  “Aha!”

  Melody jumped as she switched the player into pause mode.

  Dr. Kane whisked out a few stapled pages from the accordion file. “Found it.” He put the file back on the floor and put the papers on his notepad. “Give me a moment while I read through. My interest is piqued.” He grabbed the remote from the side table and switched on the floor lamp.

  The wind tore at the leaves in the tree. The squirrel had been absent all afternoon with the storm blowing in. Ominous clouds rolled across the sky and swallowed the waning afternoon light.

  Dr. Kane ran his finger along the page as he read. “Ms. Prescott says the teacher uncovered the problem after you fell asleep during class. Were you having trouble sleeping? It’d be understandable, if so.”

  Melody fiddled with the music player, but this time when she hit play, a lone voice came out of the speakers, singing a cappella.

  Rattlesnake, rattlesnake, I fear you none

  Crawling beneath, the moon and sun

  Show me no harm, under the sky

  I will show no fear, though afraid to die

  Dr. Kane dropped his mouth open and his finger froze on the page. He looked from Miss Prescott’s report to Melody and back again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  March 2, 2008 – Melody, age 9

  One lone dress hung in the closet. The detested black dress I’d worn for Mama’s funeral. With a sigh, I pulled it off the hanger and slipped it over my head. The rough material rubbed uncomfortably against my skin. Uncle Harlan and Aunt Ruth still hadn’t taken me back home to get my clothes. If they didn’t take me soon, I’d go get them myself.

  Uncle Harlan glanced through the open door as he passed in the hall. “Good. You’re almost ready.”

  I pulled on the sleeve of the dress. “What happened to the other dresses Aunt Ruth gave me?”

  He frowned. “I had her take them away. Black is fitting for mourning.” He checked his watch, then continued down the hall.

  But I didn’t want to wear black. Mama always liked me in colorful clothes. I flopped onto the bed and pulled Rakkie on my lap. When he came to pick me up, Uncle Harlan wouldn’t let me bring anything but essentials—hairbrush, toothbrush, and I had to fight to bring Raksha Waya. He didn’t even mention Mama.

  No. I won’t think about what happened.

  I had Aunt Ruth to thank for having Raksha Waya with me. Uncle Harlan said stuffed toys were for babies. He didn’t understand Rakkie was part of the family—not a toy.

  Jeb poked his head in the door. “Dad says get your half-breed butt in the car, now.”

  Gritting my teeth, I slipped Rakkie under my pillow until I returned. Jeb never lost a chance to make fun of me because Daddy was Cherokee. Stupid, Jeb. It wasn’t like he didn’t have different kinds of blood in him, too. Just not Cherokee. He might be in high school but from what I could tell, he hated everyone and everything. It must hurt to carry hate around all the time.

  After glancing over his shoulder to make sure I followed, Jeb strode toward the car. Things had been so hard over the past few days, I didn’t need him to make fun of me for being different. I didn’t want to go to church today. Except, God would be there and He might listen to me when I prayed in church more than He did at U
ncle Harlan’s house.

  I used to ask Mama how she knew God was with us. She said we could always feel God through love and would know He was with us then. At home, I felt love everywhere, in every corner. At Uncle Harlan’s house, I couldn’t find love at all.

  Maybe it was hard for love to grow when everyone had so many different feelings. Uncle Harlan was filled with anger, Jeb with hate, Aunt Ruth with dread and doubt, and Samuel with spitefulness. How could love live with all those bad emotions?

  As I slid across the vinyl backseat, a drop of fear tried to grow. If God stayed away from Uncle Harlan’s house because of all the bad stuff, how would He hear me and Raksha praying for Him to bring Mama back to me? I’d have to ask God in church. I didn’t worry about reaching him there because God had to go to church, just like I did. It was His job to be there.

  When we entered the church, Brother Ferrell walked in carrying a snake case. As he passed me, the snake inside hissed and shook its rattle. A picture of an attacking snake flashed in my head and I whimpered and backed into the pew.

  Uncle Harlan grabbed my arm, yanked it, and dragged me back outside.

  “We’re going to nip this in the bud right now. I will not tolerate any fear of snakes. You disrespect God’s house and God’s word when you show fear of His creature.”

  What was wrong with me? The rattle made me feel all shaky inside. I’d never felt nervous around them before.

  He leaned over, put his face right in mine, and shook me. “Do you understand me?”

  I nodded.

  He dropped my arm and straightened. “Then we’ll go back inside, and you’ll prove your faith to God by taking up a snake during the service. You’re old enough to start handling.”

  What? Mama and Daddy had said I was way too young to start handling yet. They said kids weren’t allowed to handle because of the danger involved. “But Uncle Harlan ...”

  “No buts, Melody. You either come with me into the service and be prepared to take up a snake to prove your faith and show your respect to the Lord, our God ...” His frown deepened. “Or you can go sit in the car during the service and I’ll deal with you later.”

  I didn’t know whether I could do it. Mama hadn’t wanted me to. It was too soon after her death. But if it meant God might listen to my prayer, I had to try.