When Silence Sings

by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  Ivy nodded and reached out to take Emmaline’s hand. “Perhaps she’d like to see my garden. Bits of green are pushing up through the soil now.”

  They walked to the side of the cottage, where a low rock wall enclosed a kitchen garden. Ivy knew the uses of just about every plant native to their mountains. She cultivated herbs along with her flowers and vegetables, and was happy to offer up various cures to anyone who needed them. She’d learned from her mother, Olivia, who had tended Serepta after her last child was born. Ivy came along soon after that, even though Olivia had never married. Rumors abounded about who the child’s father was, but Serepta steered clear of such nonsense. There was also talk about how Ivy had been “marked” by her mother’s indiscretion. Maybe that was part of what drew Serepta to the younger woman. Olivia died a few years back, and now Ivy lived with her grandfather and earned their keep with her simples and cures.

  Ivy turned over a spade of soil and showed Emmaline the earthworms wiggling there. Once the child was sufficiently enthralled with watching the worms, Ivy came and stood beside Serepta.

  “I heard about the train hitting that poor family.” She paused, and the moment felt pregnant with unexpected reverence. “It was good of you to take in the child.”

  “Was it?” Serepta glanced at Ivy. “You know I have a reason for everything I do.”

  “That’s the way with most people. Good reasons, bad reasons, God uses it all.”

  This time Serepta did snort. “From where I stand, God is a meddlesome tyrant who enjoys watching His creation writhe the way Emmaline watches those worms.”

  Ivy smiled and shook her head. “God gives us all gifts and blessings—even you. It’s up to us to find the good even in the hard things.”

  Serepta flipped her hand in the air. “Sometimes God steps aside and lets men have their way. I saw enough of that in my life to know that if I wanted to succeed in this world, I’d have to take the reins. And so I have.” She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “You can wait for difficulties, or you can hand them out. I prefer to take a more active role in my destiny.”

  Ivy laughed, but it wasn’t the sort of laugh that made Serepta feel as though she were being mocked. Rather it suggested that while Ivy didn’t agree, she cared about Serepta just the same. The fact that the younger woman gave her that feeling made her the one woman in the world Serepta would trust with the task at hand.

  “You have an interesting way of looking at the world, but I haven’t given up on you yet,” Ivy said.

  “I don’t know what you mean by that and I don’t care. I didn’t come here to discuss theology, but to enlist your help with Emmaline.”

  Ivy frowned. “What do you mean? People don’t usually want me around their children.” Her hand strayed to her cheek.

  “I have a great deal of business to tend to, and she needs more watching than I can offer. I thought she could come to you after breakfast and stay until I fetch her home for supper.” Home. The word tripped off her tongue so naturally. Was she providing this orphaned child with a home? She liked the shape of that idea, and yet something held her back from embracing it fully.

  A shadow passed over Ivy’s cerulean eyes. “Are you sure? I’ve always enjoyed children, but some folks think—”

  “Nonsense. You know the opinions of others are of no concern to me.”

  Emmaline ran to them, a worm clutched in her grubby hand. She held it up to Ivy, who crouched for a closer look, and then to Serepta, who looked at it without the least bit of interest.

  “Worm,” said Emmaline.

  “So it is,” said Serepta. “The first of many you will encounter in this world, and likely the least harmless. Now put it back where you found it, so we can go.” She tugged her sweater tight around her shoulders and wished she’d brought a wrap for the child. The clouds had shifted their direction, and the wind was becoming more insistent. It was storming somewhere not far away, and they would be cold by the time they got back to the phaeton.

  Emmaline returned to the slice of soil marring Ivy’s otherwise immaculate garden and dropped the worm. Serepta watched her, thinking that while dealing with the human equivalent of worms was inevitable, she was going to do everything in her power to ensure that none of them ever damaged Emmaline the way they had damaged her.

  Colman felt as though the wind had stolen the breath from his lips. He clutched the blanket around him, trying to keep it tight enough to hold in what heat he had left. Of course, slogging through the snow was helping to generate heat. He’d been afraid the railmen would try to keep him from attempting to walk out if he roused them. Now he wondered if that might not have been better. No. He steeled his resolve. If God meant for him to die in a blizzard, so be it.

  He slipped and righted himself. He’d heard that freezing to death wasn’t too bad, that basically he’d go to sleep and not wake up. He wondered if he should have made his way back toward the tunnel. It was more than a mile long and would have offered some protection. And maybe it was still sunny on the far side toward Hinton. But he choked on the idea of retreating to the McLean stronghold, so he trudged on.

  He tried to shake the snow from his eyelashes, where it was melting and refreezing. His toes were already stinging, and his fingers felt like sticks of wood. He plunged ahead, trying to follow the rails, which were little more than indentations beneath a foot of snow.

  After walking for what felt like an hour, he staggered and fell to one knee. He looked back and could no longer see the train. The thought that he could have avoided all this if he’d simply done what God asked crossed his mind. Was it too late?

  As if in answer, the howl of the wind eased from an angry roar to an almost caressing swirl of air. He would keep going. Those men back there were counting on him. He pushed ahead, moving uphill now, which was somewhat easier with the mountain rising to meet him. The day grew brighter, even though the snow continued to drift around him.

  As Colman topped a rise, the wind suddenly stopped, as if someone had flipped the switch on an electric fan. He looked around, squinting against the brilliance of a million shards of light. There was no sign of the train behind him, nor any sign of the tracks up ahead. He whirled around. He ought to be able to see the river. He plunged to the right and then the left, searched for steel beneath the heavy snow. Failing to find it, he wondered how he could have strayed from the tracks. The joy beginning to blossom in his chest gave way to a stunning realization that he was lost in a wilderness of white.

  From the setting sun, Colman calculated it wouldn’t be long until darkness overtook him. He’d continued on, focusing on keeping the rays of the sun behind him in hopes that would point him in the right direction. Then, like magic, the slant of the rays caught against a layered rock face with an opening beneath. He staggered toward it, as exhausted as he’d ever been, hardly trusting his eyes.

  Colman stepped past the opening, tumbling to the rock-strewn ground as soon as he was free of the nearly knee-deep snow. He felt surprise when he realized he still clutched the signal lantern in his left hand. He set it aside and sat still a moment, basking in the warmth reflecting off the stone around him. Already he could see water dripping from above as the snow began to melt, adding to a stream tumbling down inside the cave. Maybe the weather would warm again as quickly as it had turned to ice.

  Noting the stream of icy water, he found that in addition to a bone-deep weariness, he was desperately thirsty. He crawled to the stream, cupped a hand in the clear water, and lifted it to his lips. Even cold as it was, it felt wonderful going down. He saw that the cave went deeper into the mountain, a dark tunnel leading away from him. Although curious, he was too tired to investigate. Instead, he made his way back to a spot of fading sunshine and removed his hat to take in the meager warmth. The blizzard had given way to spring in a matter of hours. If he’d stayed with the train, they’d likely all be fine right now. But no. He couldn’t shake the notion that the storm was God’s way of reminding him who was in charg
e. Maybe he’d do well to listen better in the future, but for now Colman guessed the worst was over.

  Colman thought he’d fallen in the snow and was sitting on death’s doorstep. He leapt to his feet and stumbled over stones on the rough ground. He wasn’t trapped in the snow—he was inside the cave he’d found late in the day. Tired, warmer, and no longer thirsty, he’d fallen into a troubled sleep until the chill of darkness had finally wakened him. Or was it the chill itself? There was something else niggling at him . . .

  A long, echoing whistle blasted through the gloaming. Colman jerked his head around and bolted up a rise above the cave. In a far valley he saw the faint snaking outline of a train chugging along its tracks, a lantern swinging from the caboose as it disappeared around a bend. His train—it had to be. They’d left him. And while he supposed it would have been foolish for them to wait, he felt bereft . . . abandoned. Maybe not just by the men on the train but by God himself. Had he run right out of his Father’s will?

  A shiver rolled through his body, and he realized the blanket he still wore draped over his body was damp where the sun hadn’t had time to dry it. Walking out into the darkness now would be a fool’s errand. He thought to light his lantern to see if he could find enough wood to build a fire, but first he stepped out into what had become inky darkness and looked all around, praying he would see a light somewhere in the distance.

  Nothing.

  No light.

  No hope.

  Turning back to the cave opening, wondering if building a fire was worth the bother or if he should just give up now, he heard a sound. It vibrated deep in his chest. A growl. The throaty rumble drew closer until his chest throbbed with the noise and with the flailing of his own heart.

  It occurred to him that maybe he didn’t want to die after all.

  Whatever it was came silently toward him, and he backed up toward the cave praying he wasn’t about to be cornered in an animal’s lair. The sound wasn’t right for a bear, and all he could think of was the story his grandmother told him about a mountain lion stalking a neighbor walking home late one night. Hardly anyone saw the big cats anymore, but if one still prowled these mountains, this seemed a likely spot.

  As he stepped back inside, he tripped over the lantern. He quickly snatched it up. With a shaking hand, he fumbled in his pocket for the box of matches. He planned to use the brief illumination of a match to get his bearings and hopefully light the lantern. His heart throbbed in his chest as he struck the match. But instead of focusing on the lantern, all he saw was a pair of glowing eyes moving back and forth not more than twenty feet away. Colman would have screamed if he’d been able to summon enough air to make a sound. Instead, he dropped the match. It landed in a patch of spilled kerosene and flared. The cat or whatever it was darted away, and Colman plunged into the depths of the cave.

  To avoid falling, he dropped to his hands and knees, lantern handle clenched between his teeth. The blanket straggled behind him. He scrambled over rough ground until he fell into a crevice in the floor. He curled his knees to his chest and covered his head. His breath rasped. He waited, listening.

  At first he couldn’t hear anything but the thrumming of his own heart. He released the lantern, swallowed, breathed deeply, and slowly uncurled, willing himself to slow his breathing and calm down. He tuned his ears to the air around him.

  He heard the faint drip-drip of water. Perhaps a rustle of wings or of tiny rodent feet. And that was all. He didn’t hear growling or heavy animal breathing. He didn’t hear movement. The energy that accompanies any living thing—especially a large mammal—was absent. If the cat had followed him, it was stiller than he was.

  Colman let out a breath that felt as though it carried a measure of fear with it. He felt for his matches, managed to get one out without dropping the box, and struck it. The rasping grit of the match and sizzle of fire sounded like a cannon to his desperate ears. He saw that the lantern had survived his flight. It took a second match to finally light the wick. Colman looked around. He was in an even larger space than the original opening had led him to believe possible. It could even be called a cavern. He slid down a slope to try to see just how large the space was. He saw more water, so he scooped up another drink. This time, rather than cool and clean tasting, the water was tepid and had a sulphur taste. He spit it out and considered whether or not it was safe to drink.

  There were plenty of sulphur waters around this part of the state. Even a big fancy hotel over in White Sulphur Springs that was owned by the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad. He’d hoped that working for the railroad might mean he’d get to see it sometime. Although right then he’d be glad just to see the sky, much less a hotel for rich people.

  He considered that if people traveled all up and down the coast to “take the waters” at the Greenbrier Hotel, then sulphur water must be safe to drink. He held his nose and gulped some of it down. The liquid hitting his empty belly reminded him that he was hungry, too. But since there was nothing to be done for it, he ignored the rumble in his gut.

  He smiled to himself. If his stomach had growled like that when the cat was behind him, he might have frightened it away. And if it was possible for him to see humor in his situation at this point, maybe it wasn’t quite as hopeless as he imagined. He’d make his way back to the mouth of the cave, gather wood, and build a fire between himself and whatever might be outside. Then he’d rest and wait for the dawn. If the weather really had turned back to spring as quickly as it seemed when he fell asleep, he would continue walking out in the morning. And with no blizzard to blind him, the way should be much easier. Sure, he’d be mighty hungry by the time he finally found some food, but he’d been hungry before.

  Resolved to make the best of the situation, Colman splashed water on his face, then stood and started back toward the opening. But wait—he glanced around. It would be a shame not to explore at least a little. And the cat or whatever it was might still be outside. He drew a deep breath and let his shoulder relax. Why not check out this cavern a bit? It would make for a good tale to tell, and he might even find a treasure here. Colman laughed at himself. Surviving a blizzard and whatever it was that had been after him was making him bold. Perhaps it was time to see his predicament as an adventure and get what he could out of it.

  Twenty minutes later, having failed to find treasure while realizing that he’d banged his left knee up pretty good, Colman headed back for the entrance. He scrambled over rocks until he thought he saw stars through the opening up ahead. He lifted the lantern high to make sure he was still alone—no mountain lions or other critters.

  And he was.

  Only he wasn’t at the mouth of the cave. Furrowing his brow, he looked around. Had he gone the wrong way? He backtracked, paying close attention to the passage itself this time. There weren’t any side passages, so he hadn’t turned wrong. Back in the cavern, he looked all around and realized there were several passages leading away. But he was certain this was the one he’d passed through in his flight from the cat. Maybe he hadn’t gone far enough. He went through again.

  An hour or more passed before Colman stood back inside the cavern, his heart like a chunk of ice in his chest. He’d tried two other passages with the same result. As impossible as it seemed, he was alone inside a mountain and did not know the way out. He sat on an outcropping and examined every inch of the space around him in the flickering light of his lantern. Nothing looked right. Nothing looked familiar.

  He’d been frightened when he thought a mountain lion was after him, but that fear was joy compared to the sensation bubbling in his gut at this moment. He was lost deep inside a mountain, and no one knew where he was. Burying his head in his hands, Colman tried to stay calm, to think through his predicament, to decide on a course of action.

  And then his lantern went out.

  chapter

  eight

  Emmaline was inconsolable. Serepta had grown accustomed to people obeying her commands—catering to her wishes. But this mornin
g, when she told Emmaline to get up and eat breakfast so she could go to Ivy’s, she’d refused. A four-year-old had bested her.

  She’d sent Charlie for Ivy what seemed like an hour ago.

  When Ivy stepped up onto the front porch, Serepta fought the impulse to simply hand the child over for disposal. She greeted the younger woman with steel in her voice. “This child is impossible. Hopefully you’ll be able to quiet her. If not, other arrangements will have to be made.”

  Ivy didn’t flinch. Serepta had been dealing with the herbalist long enough to know she was tougher than she looked. And she’d never shown fear in Serepta’s presence, although she’d surely heard enough stories to frighten most young women. Ivy simply firmed her jaw and marched into the bedroom where Emmaline curled crying in the middle of a too-big bed, having refused to budge since Serepta wakened her.

  Serepta let her shoulders fall as she listened to Ivy croon to the child. She stole a look and watched the woman rock Emmaline until her cries subsided to gasps and then hiccups. She felt moisture rise to her own eyes as the child’s anguish abated, but as soon as it did, she whirled away to tackle the day’s work.

  She managed to put all thoughts of the little girl aside for a few hours as she dug into the communications and planning required to distribute illegal alcohol throughout the state of West Virginia and into Kentucky and Ohio. Prohibition may have been repealed, but there were still plenty of dry counties populated with folks thirsty for a taste of something stronger than lemonade. She wrote a note to Harrison Ash, requesting that he visit within the week. Thurmond’s chief of police was happy to accept her money, but she was concerned he was getting lax in his duties.

  As midmorning approached, she rubbed her dry eyes and set down her pen. Perhaps it was time to see how Emmaline and Ivy were faring. They’d been so quiet all morning that she’d almost forgotten about them.