When Silence Sings

by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  “Does that work the other way, I wonder?” She saw him look a question at her. “Do people credit an action as bad because they don’t know the reason behind it?”

  Johnny set his stick down. “Well now, that’s one to ponder. Although I reckon some things are bad even if you’ve got a good reason for ’em.”

  Serepta nodded. “I expect you’re right.”

  Johnny leaned back and gazed into the leafy canopy above. “Wish you’d tell Elam. He don’t think I’m ever right.”

  She felt a smile quirk her lips but resisted. She took a step closer to Johnny. “Do you think Jake will come back?”

  “I wouldn’t were I him. Not much left for him here.” He tilted his head and looked at her. “Maybe he’ll have an easier time of it if he don’t have you to live up to.”

  “Well that’s honest,” she said.

  Johnny perked up. “Maybe that’s my gift. Maybe I’m honest.”

  Serepta did smile this time, although it felt stiff, like it was a smile she hadn’t used in a very long time.

  Johnny sat up straighter. “Looks like something’s happening,” he said, nodding toward the cave. He climbed to his feet, and the pair of them—a Harpe and a McLean—walked to the entrance together.

  Colman rubbed his head and found a tender spot where he’d bashed his skull into solid rock. He wondered if the blow was causing him to hear things. But no. He could hear someone singing. Come to think of it, it wasn’t just someone, it was Ivy. But this time she wasn’t singing a hymn, but rather a song he’d heard on the radio—“All of Me.” He listened to her sweet voice and began moving toward her.

  Soon he could see a light, and then there she was, sitting like an apparition in the glow of a lantern. She smiled but finished her song.

  “You took the part that once was my heart,

  So why not take all of me?”

  “There you are,” she said. “I followed the marks as far as they went and then trusted you would hear me.”

  Colman eased down beside her. “Are you alright? Did Webb hurt you?”

  She shook her head, her uncovered hair almost sparkling in the dim light. He guessed she didn’t need her hat or gloves here in the cave. In a way, she looked more at home here than she did outside in the daylight.

  “He manhandled us a bit, but we’re both fine. Serepta found us, and when we realized you hadn’t come out of the cave, I came back in after you.”

  “Why would you come back in here?” Colman felt as though he’d slept through something important and was now having to sort the pieces in his mind.

  “Because I care for you,” she replied, ducking her head. “I thought about marrying Mack simply because he was the only one I thought would ever ask.” Tears welled in her eyes. “But he wasn’t being honest, and now he’s gone.” She took a stuttering breath. “And I realized that not only did I not care for him, but I cared for someone else.”

  Colman felt light-headed and hoped it wasn’t from the hit he’d taken. “For me?”

  She nodded, and her eyes glowed with something Colman hadn’t seen since his mother died.

  “I care for you, too,” he whispered. “It just never seemed like the time to tell you so, and this probably isn’t the time, either.”

  She laughed, light and musical. “I guess sometimes we have to get lost all over again if we want to find the path we’ve been searching for all along.”

  Colman reached out and laid his ruddy, callused hand against her pale cheek. “I think I see the path I’d like to take,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her.

  They all gathered on the wide porch at Walnutta. Hallie kept bringing around pitchers of tea and lemonade and setting out plates of pound cake like it was a party. Of course, Serepta had never had a party at Walnutta, so she wouldn’t know. Ivy had tended to everyone’s cuts and bruises, including her own, and in spite of the ordeal no one seemed too much the worse for wear. Especially not Emmaline, who whirled from person to person like a honeybee afraid she might miss a flower.

  Of course, everyone else was subdued. Jake had Mack’s body carried to the house, where some of the women were tending to him, washing away the blood and dressing him in his best suit. Serepta left it to them, although she supposed she would need to call someone to handle the funeral before Mack was buried in the family cemetery out beyond the barn. Charlie would see to . . . no, Charlie wouldn’t.

  Ivy stepped out the front door and spotted Serepta at the far end of the porch. She walked over and settled into a swing and patted the slats beside her. Serepta realized she’d never actually sat there before. She considered not doing so now, but then sighed and rested her slight bulk beside Ivy—dark and light in so many ways.

  “I’m sorry about Mack,” Ivy said, setting the swing in motion with the push of her foot.

  “Are you? It seems to me he treated you poorly.”

  “Not really. I suppose his motives weren’t the best, but he was kinder to me than some others have been.”

  Serepta pushed the swing again as it slowed. “Jake left word that he would not be returning to these parts.” She let silence swell. “As I assumed.”

  “I’m sorry about that, too,” Ivy said.

  “It’s ironic. I longed for a daughter instead of foolish sons, and now—” she cleared her throat—“that’s precisely what I am left with.”

  Ivy held her pale hand up in front of them, turning it as though admiring the blue veins visible beneath the ivory flesh. “When I was ten or so, I tried every remedy I could dream up to give my flesh color.” She smiled, but it didn’t warm her eyes. “Walnut dye, tea leaves, and coffee grounds. I even washed in stump water gathered by the light of a full moon every day for a month. It’s part of the reason I became so interested in the healing properties of plants. I thought if I could find just the right combination, I could . . .” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I could look like everyone else.”

  “The foolishness of a child,” Serepta said. “People will discover what is different about you no matter what.”

  This time Ivy’s smile did reach her eyes. “You’re right. I guess my point is that sometimes we want what we can’t have. And sometimes, when we get what we thought we wanted, it doesn’t suit us at all.” She nodded toward Emmaline, who seemed to have had enough rest to fuel her for the remainder of the day. “Regardless of what else you have done or why you did it, taking in that child is a gift. I suspect you’ll have the pleasure of unwrapping it for a long time to come.”

  Serepta found she had nothing to say to that. She’d lost so much these past weeks. Things she hadn’t even realized could be taken from her. She’d thought she had safeguarded herself from such painful losses by hardening her heart, but somehow sorrow had broken through the shell.

  Colman came around from the back of the house and stopped when he saw the two women sitting side by side. Approaching them, he said, “We’ve got some men digging the grave. Not sure who you want for a preacher, but I’ll fetch whoever it is.”

  “You may perform the service,” Serepta said. It was almost worth it to see the shock wash over Colman’s face.

  “But I’m a Harpe and you’re—”

  “Yes. Mack was a McLean, as well. But it looks to me that you’ve found favor with my family, and since I generally have no use for men of God, it might as well be you.”

  Colman appeared like he might be sick on her shoes. “Will you . . . are you . . . what about Webb?”

  “What about him? He left, didn’t he?”

  “But he shot Mack. Aren’t you going after him, or sending someone after him?”

  Serepta looked around as if assessing those gathered at her home. “Whom would I send? Lena? I suppose I could find someone who would accept payment for hunting down your uncle and putting a bullet in him, but I’m tired of this fruitless back-and-forth.” She stood and brushed at some dirt smudged on the front of her slacks. “If Webb wants to continue this feud, he will have to do it without me.
I have a daughter to raise.” She nodded to Ivy and went inside. Let the rest of them find their own ways home.

  chapter

  thirty-six

  Colman felt like he’d just swallowed his own tongue. Preach a funeral for a McLean? Wasn’t that a step too far? He looked at Ivy for help, but she wore a bemused expression that let him know she wasn’t going to save him.

  “How am I supposed to preach Mack McLean’s funeral?”

  Ivy motioned for him to take the seat Serepta had vacated. He plopped down and tried to think as she set the swing in motion again. The easy back-and-forth combined with a breeze that stirred the muggy air and soothed him.

  She patted his arm, and her touch almost made up for what Serepta had just asked of him. “It seems to me you’ve been asked a riddle. And it’s a tough one.” She smiled and stood. “But I think you’re smart enough to figure it out. Now I’m going to go wrangle Emmaline and Grandpa so we can go home.”

  “I’ll take you—”

  She held up a hand. “No need. Lena and Nell are taking folks in their wagon, and they’ll drop us off.”

  Colman watched her go, feeling five or six emotions at the same time. Talk about a riddle—what he was going to do about his feelings for Ivy was going to take almost as much sorting out as what he was going to say at a funeral for a man who’d caused him and his family a wagonload of trouble. Apparently, God wasn’t finished testing him quite yet.

  He almost expected Jake to be in the cabin when he finally arrived, footsore and weary. Yet there was no sign of the enemy who had begun to feel like a friend. Colman shook his head and sat down to take off his boots. The evening was quickly fading into night as he sat on the tilted porch, his back against the wall of the cabin. He stared across the meadow, trying to think what would be right for Mack’s funeral. Shoot, he didn’t even know if the man had been a believer. Serepta sure didn’t act like one. He’d never preached a funeral before, much less one for someone he was supposed to hate.

  He went inside and found his pack with his mother’s Bible. It was one of the few things he’d bothered to carry back from Thurmond. He held the worn leather and feathered the fragile pages. It was too dark to read, and he didn’t want to light a fire. He held the book to his ear and fanned the pages as though he could hear them whisper.

  An owl hooted nearby, and Colman felt a chill. He’d always heard that an owl hooting at dusk was a sign that someone would soon die. He supposed someone already had and hoped that would be the end of the dying for now. Caleb was gone, and now Mack was too. Did that make things fair? Did it even out like the Old Testament’s “eye for an eye”? He’d heard fire-and-brimstone preachers suggest such things, but he’d never preached anything like that and sure didn’t want to now.

  Colman set the Bible down and laid his hand on it as if he could absorb information through the cover. He wondered if a preacher had ever been shot down in the pulpit by a rival clan. Riddle indeed. Ivy didn’t realize the half of it.

  It was time to dress for her son’s funeral. Serepta sat at her dressing table in her undergarments. Emmaline sat on the floor nearby, playing with a paper doll Hallie had made for her. The child was already dressed in a navy blue, sailor-style dress. Serepta slid the right-hand drawer open to extract her pearls. There, beneath the necklace, she saw Charlie’s last letter. She withdrew the paper and smoothed it on the dresser in front of her.

  Revelation 3:17–21. She never had looked those verses up. She fetched Charlie’s Bible from her bedside table. She kept it there not to read but to have some part of a trustworthy man close by. The leather felt good in her hands.

  Even she knew Revelation was the last book of the Bible. She feathered the pages until she came to chapter three. The verses were from a letter to a church. She read the entire letter—it was short enough. But it was verse seventeen that struck her to the core.

  “Because thou sayest, ‘I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing, and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.”

  A sob caught in her throat, and she clamped a hand over her mouth before Emmaline could hear. She continued to read the verses Charlie had noted.

  “As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous therefore, and repent. Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him . . .”

  Oh, she had been rebuked and chastened, but only coming from Charlie did such words feel like love. Maybe if she let him open the door for her . . .

  She had overcome so much. Had worked so hard for everything she had. And today she knew she would give it all away if she could simply live in peace with Charlie and Emmaline. Hot tears scalded her cheeks. Charlie believed in God, but more important, he believed in her. Even now that he was beyond her reach, she knew he believed.

  “Momma?” Emmaline curled her hands around Serepta’s arm and wormed herself close. “Are you going to wear a dress?”

  Serepta wiped her face and glanced at her usual slacks and blouse laid out on the bed. When had she last worn a dress? It must have been the black crepe she’d worn when Eli died. After his funeral and the interminable family gathering that followed, she’d gone to her room, removed the dress, and had not worn it—or any other dress—since.

  “Perhaps I will,” she said.

  “My momma died.”

  Serepta turned so that she could more easily look into Emmaline’s eyes, cradle her face. “Do you know what that means—to die?”

  “It means you go away to heaven.” Emmaline furrowed her brow. “I don’t want to go away.”

  Serepta bit her lip. She wasn’t sure she believed there was such a thing as heaven, although hell was something she knew existed. “There’s no reason for you to go away.”

  “Did Mack go to heaven?”

  “I don’t know,” Serepta said. And she didn’t. But for the first time in her life she could see how it would be comforting to think so.

  “I hope he did,” Emmaline said.

  “So do I,” she whispered.

  Serepta rose and tugged the black crepe from the back of her wardrobe. She was sure it was horribly out of style. Still, it would look well with her pearls. She dressed quickly and fastened the necklace.

  “Come, Emmaline. This will not be a pleasant day, but it is one we must get through. Will you be on your best behavior?”

  The child sighed and tugged her own skirt straight. “Yes, Momma. When it’s over, may I have a cookie?”

  Serepta nodded. “You may have two, and perhaps I will join you.”

  Colman thought he might lose his paltry breakfast. He felt like he had those first days at the brush arbor meetings—sick, weak, and unworthy. While he’d filled a real pulpit inside a church twice before, stepping into Elizabeth Chapel on Hoke’s Mill Road in Hinton was a completely new feeling. Lena had persuaded the pastor to let them use the church for Mack’s funeral. They’d certainly never had a Harpe in their pulpit before.

  And he’d never preached a funeral before.

  He hadn’t slept, trying to think what to say today. The church was filled with McLeans, Serepta first among them. But there were Harpes present, as well. Johnny, Elam, and his father sat in the back pew and nodded solemnly when he entered. Seeing his father gave him a jolt. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Dad anywhere other than his own house. He realized he was grateful to see him now.

  Mack had been dressed in a suit and laid out in a fancy coffin in front of the pulpit. Colman remembered how folks had tucked items into Caleb’s casket. No one dared this time. It was just Mack, looking unexpectedly peaceful. Colman swallowed hard and stepped up behind the pulpit.

  “Let us pray,” he began. The congregation bowed their heads with a stir and a rustle like leaves in a gentle breeze. Colman spoke a simple prayer and then opened his eyes.

  “I’ve been wanting to call myself a preacher for a long time now, but being asked to speak today . . .
well, it’s made me realize I’m no such thing.” He glanced at Serepta, whose attention appeared to be focused on the light fixture above his head. “I’ll just tell you, I’m not sure what I ought to say.” He cleared his throat and rested a hand on the massive pulpit Bible lying open there. “In the front of this Bible, there are pages listing births, marriages, and deaths. Mack McLean’s name was written here for the final time today.” He looked at the people who seemed to be hanging on his every word. They didn’t know what he should say, either.

  “But the rest of us, we’re not done yet. We’ve still got some time before our names are chiseled in stone.” Serepta still wasn’t looking at him, but he had the sense she was listening. “I didn’t know Mack very well. And our families didn’t exactly get along.” There was a murmur of laughter that hushed as quickly as it started. “But Mack’s mother asked me to preach here today.” This time Serepta did look at him, narrowing those brilliant blue eyes of hers. “And I agreed. But like I said, I’ve realized I’m no preacher. I’m a storyteller. So I guess I’ll tell you a story.”

  He let his gaze drift up above the heads of those in the pews. “A stranger was passing through some pretty country one day and decided to stop and rest in a field full of daisies and black-eyed Susans. He was dipping some water from the creek when he saw a big old gold nugget. He got to looking closer and realized the creek was full of gold. So he hurried home, sold his house and his automobile, and bought that piece of land. Soon he became richer than before.” Colman refocused on the people. “God’s kingdom is like that field—valuable enough to give up everything you’ve got for it.”

  Serepta was staring a hole in him now. He couldn’t read her expression, though. Of course, no one could. Emmaline was tucked in close to her side, smiling as though delighted with his story.

  “Here’s another one,” he said. “A woman came walking into a big-city jeweler’s store one day. She had a perfect pearl, flawless and big as an orange. Well, the jeweler knew a good thing when he saw it, so he sold everything else in the store and bought the pearl.” Serepta’s hand drifted to the necklace at her throat. “God’s kingdom is like that pearl—perfect and worth everything else you have.”