When Silence Sings

by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  She moved away, leaving Colman blinking. “Where are you going?”

  “To tend to the child brought here yesterday. Her . . . caretaker has her hands full with other matters.”

  “So that wasn’t her mother?”

  “She’s an orphan. Her family was killed when a train hit the truck they were traveling in.”

  Colman felt a stab of sorrow for the child. It had been hard enough to lose his mother when he was thirteen, but at least he could remember her.

  “Can I come with you?”

  Ivy, who had begun packing a basket, froze. “Why would you want to do that? You should spend the day resting—recovering. You still haven’t eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive.”

  “I . . . I need to be a help if I can. It’s good of this woman to take in the child. She should have all the help folks can give her. Maybe I can start sharing the gospel with her. Shoot, she might even be kin to the McLeans.”

  Ivy planted her hands on her hips and looked him up and down. “Oh, she’s kin alright.”

  Colman gave her a puzzled look.

  “The child’s been taken in by Serepta McLean.” She jutted her chin in the air, almost daring him to make his next move.

  “The head of the McLeans? She took in an orphaned child?” Colman couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d told him a mountain lion had taken to suckling a lamb.

  “That’s right.”

  “And she came to you?” He felt a mixture of confusion and disgust. Why would someone as kind and gentle as Ivy have anything to do with a viper like Serepta McLean?

  “I’ve been caring for anyone who would let me since my mother taught me the healing power of plants. When I’m tempted to pick and choose, I just remember that God loves everyone—no matter how wrong we might think they are.”

  Colman let that settle over him. She was right, but doggone if he wanted to admit it.

  She came closer and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Stay here today. Talk to Grandpa, enjoy the sunshine, bathe your eyes, and try to eat some more. If you want to help this child, there will be time.”

  He nodded. “Guess maybe I am still a bit peaked.”

  She smiled, and it was almost as good as when he saw that spot of light inside the cave. “I’ll see you late this afternoon.” And then she gathered her things and was gone.

  Colman felt an odd sort of emptiness descend in her wake.

  Serepta was not pleased when Jake turned up at the house shortly after Ivy came to watch over Emmaline. First, there was no need for him to put himself in the way of the Harpe men while their anger was still so fresh. And second, he was supposed to be seeing to the receiving end of liquor deliveries in Cincinnati.

  “Aw, Ma, you’ve got men to handle all that boring business stuff. Me, I’m more of a front man. Let me work the sales. You could set me up with a dance hall, and I’ll sell hooch on the side.”

  Clenching her jaw, it was all Serepta could do not to slap her son’s smug face. He was too much like his father, but with an ornery streak that felt like it must have come from his grandfather. He had the same selfishness that had made her childhood such a misery, although he was lacking his grandfather’s outright cruelty. Seeing part of her father’s vile temperament in her son made her wonder if she had somehow passed it on to him. If she’d known that was possible, she never would have borne a child.

  “That’s a ridiculous idea and you know it. You’d drink more than you sold, and you’d get in trouble with the girls within a week.” She ignored the storm in her son’s eyes. “But I will let you handle some sales, as you put it.”

  “Oh yeah?” He looked eager now.

  “I need someone I can trust to round up a few more partners who can arrange for crates of liquor to be transported in coal cars.”

  Jake stretched his neck and looked thoughtful. “You mean railroad men?”

  Serepta schooled her expression. Was this a mistake? Was her son too dunderheaded to do even this simple task?

  “Yes, men who have access to the cars and can bury crates in the coal. Deep enough not to be seen, but not so deep they get broken. We need men who can help with the loading and unloading both.”

  “Guess I might could find a few men like that.”

  Serepta exhaled on a hiss. She might regret it, but it was time for Jake to step up and be more active in the family business. And if she couldn’t keep him out of Webb’s way, at least she could keep him too busy to go looking for additional trouble.

  “Go talk to Charlie. He’ll give you the particulars about payment and movement of the goods.”

  “Ma, I don’t know why you let that . . .”

  Serepta glared at her son, daring him to speak slightingly.

  “. . . colored man get so wrapped up in your business.”

  “I won’t defend him to you, but if you ever find someone half as smart, loyal, and ready to do what’s needed, you’d be wise to keep him close.”

  She spun on her heel and left Jake lounging on a settee. Once in her office, she paused and examined herself in the glass over the mantel. When she married him, Eli had loved to lay his pale flesh alongside hers, so he could marvel at the sharp contrast of her olive complexion. At first, she’d been grateful for a kind touch, but eventually she’d come to resent the implication that she was different.

  And she was. Her father had been from a tight-knit group labeled Melungeons by their neighbors. Serepta didn’t know if there was any truth to it or what it meant exactly. Or rather, she did know what it meant—that they were lower-class citizens with their swarthy skin, dark hair, and icy blue eyes. One rumor held that the first Melungeons were the result of an illicit union between the devil and a Cherokee woman.

  She shuddered and turned away. Knowing her father, she’d believe the part about the devil. But she’d also had aunts, uncles, and cousins who didn’t fit that mold. They were good people, she supposed, just not brave. If they’d been brave, they would have stopped the cruelty she suffered at the hands of her own father.

  But no. She would not remember. There was trouble enough in her life now. She didn’t need to go digging into the past to dredge up pain. The clock on the mantel struck the hour. Time for Ivy to leave for the day. She needed to pay her and take over Emmaline’s care. She pulled some cash from a box in the right-hand drawer of her desk and stepped out into the hall.

  Emmaline rushed her, a bright blue feather clutched in her grubby hand. “Look,” she crowed.

  Serepta did look. But it wasn’t the feather she noticed. It was the way her son had his arm braced against the wall, blocking Ivy’s path. He was talking to her close and low. Serepta couldn’t hear his words, but she understood his body language all too well.

  “Jake!” she barked.

  He jerked and stiffened.

  “I’ll thank you to allow Miss Gordon to proceed down the hall.”

  Jake lowered his arm and turned lazily. “Miss Gordon and I were having a conversation.” He winked at Ivy. “A most pleasant conversation.”

  Ivy’s expression told Serepta that she found Jake’s words anything but pleasant. And Serepta knew her son well enough to recognize that he would never seriously consider wooing a woman thought to be the illegitimate descendant of a semi-mythical race of people from North Carolina. As the story went, the moon-eyed people were run out of the state by local Indians who feared them. The pale people with large blue eyes were said to have taken refuge in West Virginia. Local superstitions held that they had magical powers and only came out at night to avoid the glare of the sun. The notion that Ivy had been fathered by one of them was just as farfetched as her own ancestor being the devil. Still, Jake would never take such a woman seriously—although she was pretty enough in her pale way for him to trifle with.

  “I’ve typically found that in order to have a conversation, both parties must be willing participants. Now, Miss Gordon has more important things to tend to.”

  Jake sneered. “Like watch a throwaw
ay kid?”

  Serepta felt anger expand her chest and push at the back of her throat. But she knew better than to vent words she hadn’t measured carefully. Ivy slipped past Jake, the flush on her cheeks a stark contrast to her white skin. Serepta drew her into the office.

  “I’ll thank you to tend the duties you’ve been assigned,” she said to Jake, dismissing him with a nod. She took Emmaline by the hand and turned her back on her son.

  chapter

  eleven

  Colman hated the idea of someone as kind and gentle as Ivy spending her days with Serepta McLean. He was willing to preach to the woman, but God-fearing folks like the Gordons should be shielded from the kind of poison that was the head of the McLeans. Especially Ivy, who was already afflicted in her own way.

  “Thought I’d come with you while you watch the child tomorrow.” Colman spoke the words in a way he hoped would let Ivy know he wasn’t going to back down.

  Ivy sighed. “That won’t be necessary. After Jake turned up, Serepta agreed that Emmaline will come here again. It’s not far. Her man Charlie will bring her over each morning.”

  Colman tried to hide his relief. He had a message of grace he’d vowed to share with the McLeans, except he wasn’t sure yet how to go about it. He needed more time to sort out what he was going to do. He also needed to get a message to the rail yard and to his father before they gave him up for dead.

  He rubbed his eyes. They felt better, while his innards weren’t faring as well. He’d spent a fair amount of the day in the privy, and while he’d managed to get some more bread and broth into his belly, he knew it wasn’t enough to help him get his strength back. All the things he needed to do weighed heavily on his mind.

  Ivy clucked her tongue and smoothed a cool hand over Colman’s forehead. “You’re still peaked. What have you eaten today?”

  Hoyt volunteered the information for him. “Bread and broth. Not enough to keep a gnat alive.”

  Ivy bustled into the kitchen and began rummaging and stirring. She soon returned with a bowl of something creamy and a slice of bread she’d toasted over the open fire. She dolloped the cream onto the bread and handed it to him. “Small bites.”

  Not knowing what he was biting into made it easier to follow her suggestion. But regardless of that, he wasn’t about to turn down anything this dear woman offered him.

  Colman nibbled on the bread, which had a nice crunch to it and just a hint of smokiness. The topping felt smooth on his tongue, tangy and sweet and rich all at once. He took a bigger bite, finding that it sat well in his tender stomach. “This is good.”

  “You sound surprised,” Ivy said.

  “Well, I figured if it’s supposed to be medicine, I might not like it much.”

  “It’s just clabber milk and honey. It’ll build up your strength, and the sour milk will help stave off whatever’s working in your belly.”

  Her mention of something sour in his belly almost set Colman off. But he took a deep breath and finished the meal despite that. Soon he felt better for getting the bread and cream inside him. Ivy beamed like he’d just won a blue ribbon in clabber eating.

  Colman grinned and nodded at her. “I’m thinking I might go outside now and walk a bit.”

  “If you feel up to it, it’ll do you good,” she agreed. “Why don’t I come with you? Grandpa, would you like to come with us?”

  Hoyt took the last bite of his own simple meal. “Don’t reckon I will. These old bones are better suited to putting up by the fire and working on my carvings.”

  Colman thought he caught a twinkle in the old man’s eye. Regardless, he didn’t mind walking out with Ivy on his own—she was pleasant company. He stood and felt the world sway left, then right, then settle on the straight and narrow. Maybe they wouldn’t walk far.

  Ivy donned her hat and gloves even though the day was waning and hooked her arm through his. He hoped it was because she wanted to and not because she was afraid he might fall over. Although he’d take her gentle touch either way. They set out into the cool spring evening, and for just a moment Colman almost forgot about his time in the cave, the hard task before him, and the feud that was likely to escalate once word got out that Jake was back in town.

  They strolled down to a creek and sat awhile on a rock with the last rays of the sun on their backs, the light glinting off the rushing water. Colman felt certain there was some good trout fishing here, and he wouldn’t mind wetting a line sometime.

  “You said you want to preach to the McLeans,” Ivy said. “How will you do that?”

  Colman scratched his bristly chin. He was going to have to shave soon. “I’m not sure. I just know it’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  Ivy nodded slowly. “Well, if you’re supposed to be preaching to your enemy, how’d you end up lost in a cave?”

  “I thought I was going fishing,” Colman answered. He shook his head and chuckled. “But really I was running away from God, and He saw fit to throw me into a hole in the ground to stop my running.”

  “He does work in the strangest ways.” Ivy peeked at him from beneath the brim of her hat and smiled.

  A wave of emotion rose up in Colman, but he didn’t dare name it. He wanted to ask about her pale skin and the way she covered up when she went outside, but he didn’t know how to do so without offending her. Instead, he sat there quietly and watched a pair of squirrels playing round and round a tree. He’d never been much for courting ladies and was surprised at the direction of his thoughts even now. He scrambled for something to say.

  “What about you? Other than rescuing strangers and caring for orphans, what do you do with your days?” he asked.

  Ivy laughed, low and sweet. “That’s the most of it. Although caring for orphans isn’t something I’m usually . . . allowed to do. As I said, I’m known as something of a healer around here, putting to use what my mother taught me about how to use plants and such.” She ducked her head so that he couldn’t see her face. “There are . . . rumors about me, what with my pale skin and the way I can’t stand the sun.” She tilted her head so she could peer at him. “I can see you want to ask about it.”

  Colman felt his face flush. “I don’t guess it’s any of my business.”

  This time her laugh was harsh. “Nor anyone else’s. And yet folks hold the color of my skin against me. As if I can do anything about it.” She stood abruptly and took a few steps away, her back to Colman. “I’ve had my heart set on being a midwife ever since Mother let me help her with a birth when I was nine. There’s nothing more wonderful, more miraculous than the birth of a child.” She let her chin drop. “When that babe I helped with died nine months later for no reason anyone could see, people said it was because of me.” She turned toward him, her blue eyes looking even larger with their nearly invisible lashes. “So, while folks are happy to come for my poultices and tonics, they won’t let me near a child. They say—” she stopped suddenly—“well, it doesn’t matter what they say. I just wanted you to know about me before someone else decides to tell you.”

  Colman stared at his shoes. “I’ve been on the outside of things most of my life. My mother made my father give up feuding, and then when she died, Dad, well, he dried up I guess. So, folks, even my family, have never had much to do with us.” He risked a look at her and saw that she was hanging on his words. “Guess what I’m saying is, I know about being shut out. You don’t have to look different to be treated different.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “And anyhow, you don’t look that different. As a matter of fact, I’d say you’re right . . . pretty.”

  She bit her lip and smiled. “Your eyes are still sore, aren’t they?”

  They laughed together, and the air seemed to grow softer around them as the moon rose behind her shoulder. She removed her hat, and moonlight turned her hair into a fall of water.

  “I can see better in this light, even if you can’t,” she said. “My eyes don’t care for the sun.”

  Colman tried not to stare at those eyes, which
were like clear quartz catching what little light remained. She was more than pretty, now that he thought about it. He gave himself a mental shake. Maybe she was bewitching him. If so, he sure didn’t mind. He moved toward her, not entirely sure what he planned to do, when a sound drew him up short. Horses approaching. He moved between Ivy and the coming riders. He was too weak to do much more than that, but no one else need know it.

  He recognized the handsome silver sorrel even before the riders were close enough to call a greeting.

  “We thought either you was dead or the McLeans got you.” Uncle Webb reined in his mount and looked Colman up and down. “Johnny and Elam figured they let you go off and die in that freak snowstorm. Elam talked like it was his fault, but he’s always been off in the head.”

  “Had an unexpected detour,” Colman said.

  “You want to fetch on home with us? Trouble’s brewing round here.”

  Colman widened his stance as much to steady himself as to look confident. “Guess I’ll hang here awhile.”

  Webb considered Ivy, and Colman didn’t care for the look in his eye. Finally, he nodded. “Well, we might could use someone on our side round these parts. ’Course you might be at some risk. You well enough to handle it? You look puny.”

  “I’ve come here to preach. You let Sam down at the station know I might be awhile. I’d appreciate it if you’d let Dad know, too.” Colman puffed his chest out, even though he felt like sinking to the ground.

  Webb laughed so hard, Colman thought he might fall off his horse. “Preach? What you gonna preach? Hellfire and damnation? ’Cause these McLeans sure are riding hard for the devil.”

  “Guess I’ll leave their salvation up to the Lord. Even so, I have a calling I’m bound to follow.”

  Webb leaned forward over his horse’s neck. “Son, your great-granddaddy would roll over in his grave if he knew you were consorting with the enemy.” He sat back up. “And unless you give me some hint you’ve got an ace up your sleeve, I might take issue myself.”