None came.
For as long as she could, until she had to medicate her, Grace stole time with her child.
The basement game room wasn’t bad and Max even thought it was better than his apartment. It was a huge room that, with the exception of the laundry area, spanned the entire width of the house. He blocked out the basement windows, found a lantern in the garage, and lit a fire in the small fireplace.
Eugene had found a quiet spot across the room. He didn’t sit on the smaller sofa there, he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the bar.
The fireplace was on the opposite side of the room, near the big screen television. Max scoured the house for clothes, and found fresh ones. He gave Eugene the shoes he found, figuring the pilot was tired of his hard black dress shoes.
They had gotten mostly junk food from the Shotz convenience store, and Max found two cans of spaghetti in the kitchen. He grabbed utensils and items from the kitchen, dumped the spaghetti in the pot, and cooked it by the fire.
Candice sat down by the fire near Max. “Are you sharing?”
“Yeah, why would you ask that?”
“You don’t look like you share.”
“Neither do you.”
“I don’t.” Candice brought her knees forward. “You think my Mommy is okay up there?”
“She’s fine. She needs you and Eugene to stay away so your sister doesn’t get all freaky.”
“Is my sister dying?”
“I… I don’t…” Max stuttered. “Why are you talking to me? Go somewhere else.”
“I talked to Eugene a lot. I think he’s tired of me. He’s just staring at his phone. Why are you mean to me?”
“I’m not mean. I’m making you food, aren’t I?”
“Yes.” Candice nodded.
“I’m not a kid person.”
“I can tell.”
“Thanks.” Max stirred the pot. “It’s almost done.”
“Where did you learn to do all this?”
“Growing up,” Max said. “Plus, I was in the military. That helped.”
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“No.”
“I am.”
“You’re a kid.” Max served some of the pasta in a bowl and handed her a bowl. “Here it’s hot.”
Candice took the bowl. “So what did you do?”
“You mean in the military?”
“No. I mean to go to jail. What did you do?”
The serving spoon slipped form Max’s hand. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you have that tattoo between your fingers and thumb. Five dots. That’s a prison tattoo.”
“How do you know that?”
“I watch a lot of television.”
“Too much.” Max rolled his hand into a fist and looked down. “It was stupid getting the tattoo. Don’t ask me why.”
“Did you rob a bank?”
“Something like that.” Max grunted. “Eat your food.”
The basement door opened and closed and Max peered up. Grace walked down the steps with a sleeping Macy.
“Is she sleeping, Mommy? Did you give her the medicine?”
“I did. I’m gonna take her over across the room to lay her down,” Grace said.
“I’ll be over when I am done eating,” Candice showed the bowl. “Max cooked.”
“That’s nice of him.” Carrying not only her daughter, but much sadness, Grace walked over to the other end of the room.
She lay Macy on the smaller couch and covered her with a throw. “You don’t mind do you?” she asked Eugene.
“No.” Eugene looked up from his phone, then lifted the bottle of wine next to him. “Drink?”
“Maybe in a little bit.” Grace sat on the floor by him. “What are you doing?”
“My phone is charged. I was looking at pictures of my daughter.” He showed her.
“She’s very beautiful.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Did you try to call her?”
“I did. No answer. The last I heard from her was that social media post. I replied and got nothing back.”
“You can’t get discouraged. If she was fine and posted that her mother was sick, you and I both know she didn’t get it right way. Have you tried texting her?”
“No.”
“Try. Send a message. Maybe she can’t get a clear enough signal to answer the phone.”
Eugene nodded. He looked nervous as his fingers moved. The ‘swish’ sound told Grace the message was sent.
Eugene whispered, “Oh my God.”
“What?” Grace moved closer.
Eugene held the phone in front of her.
Grace’s eyes widened. “She’s replying! The three dots means she got it and is typing,” she said excitedly. “See?”
“She’s taking a while.”
“Probably trying to fit it in. Instead of sending one back saying she’s all right. You know how kids are.”
“I do,” Eugene said. “I wish I knew Leah better. I spent so much time working. I was always flying, all over the world. What about you? What did you do?”
“I dreamt of seeing the world. My education says I am an archeologist, but the kids kept me grounded and I worked at the museum in the paleontology department, don’t ask how those are related. I dust dinosaur bones.”
“You wanted to find buried cities. Sounds exciting.”
“I did,” Grace said. “Actually, lost civilizations. You know, find out why whole cities had their populations disappear. I never understood how that happened. How civilizations vanished. Now…” she exhaled. “I know.”
The ‘beep’ of Eugene’s phone indicated he had gotten a reply. Before Grace had a chance to show her enthusiasm it was curbed by Eugene’s reaction. He let out a painful groan, tossed the phone down, and covered his face.
Grace reached down and grabbed it. Her stomach knotted in a sickening feeling when she saw the reply. A huge paragraph of nothing but strings of letters filled the blue box. It was obviously an accidental play. Fingers pressing until eventually it sent. A message that said more than any words.
Her lips puckered and Grace set down the phone. “It doesn’t mean… maybe she dropped her phone. Maybe someone else has it.”
“No.” Eugene grabbed the phone again. “I know what my gut is telling me. I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too,” He said, his words heavily laced with emotions, Eugene took to staring again at his phone.
NINE – RISING
It was the quiet that woke Grace, not the noise. She had grown used to the steady, buzz saw sound too deep and big to come from her child, her struggled breathing.
Now it was quiet.
Grace had fallen asleep sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, her head close to Macy’s, waiting for her to stir so she could give her the next doze of sedative and fever reducer.
Somewhere around two in the morning, Grace gained an ounce of hope when it felt as if her fever was lessening. Macy was still warm, but nowhere near as hot.
Like white noise, Grace honed in on Macy’s breathing, holding her hand until she fell asleep.
The silence caused her to jolt and open her eyes. Everyone else was still asleep. It was eerily quiet. Grace shut her eyes and prayed that the silence meant Macy was well. Perhaps she’d healed during the night. Heart racing, inwardly trembling, Grace turned and looked at her daughter.
There were no movements of her body to indicate breathing. What remained of her coloring was drawn and pooled with gravity causing the side of her face to be black.
Macy’s skin was cold to the touch.
She was gone.
Even though she knew it was coming, a pain radiated through her and Grace’s lips quivered. She felt the cry building her chest, swell to her ears, and it seeped out. She clutched Macy and lifted her. The stiffness of her body told Grace her daughter had been gone a couple of hours. Macy was hard to cradle and hold. However, Grace held on, weeping in the silence of the morning. Even though she tried to be quiet, her cries stirred those in the room.