The Silent Sounds of Chaos (27 page)

“HELLO, AMELIA. COME in.”

Amelia offered a small smile, taking a moment to observe him as she passed by. He’d become so much older in the few days since she’d last seen him, a recent widower grieving for his departed wife while also caring for his grandson, and yet also trying to maintain his usual air of superiority.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I … I needed time to process.”

“No need to apologize.” Charlie stepped aside to let the young woman in. As she passed, he gave her a quick onceover. Shadows colored her eyes and her hair was unbrushed, normally stylish clothes replaced with a simple pair of jeans and black tank top.

This was a young woman aching for the man she loved. A man who would likely never come back to her.

He couldn’t let her see Finn without preparation. It wouldn’t be good for either one of them. “I should warn you, Amelia. It’s been a long week, and … Tommy is not doing well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come.” Without further explanation, he led her to the kitchen, to a window overlooking the backyard. From the vantage point they could see deep into the yard and into one small corner of Silver City.

And there, through the window, Amelia watched Finn. From a distance, he looked like the same man she’d known for almost twenty years, that worn leather jacket covering broad shoulders, tousled blonde hair always seeming to fall in just the right place, a strikingly handsome face shadowed by a haunting secret—a secret she now knew.

Even from here she could see the tense set of his shoulders, the stress set in his jaw, the anxiety in each step. This was not the carefree man she’d come to know and love. He was tormented, and she needed to be there to comfort him. Unable to help herself, Amelia left the kitchen and slipped outside, determined to help him through whatever ailed his heart.

Lost in his own quiet mutterings, Finn didn’t notice her approach. She tread carefully upon the dew-dropped grass, stopping when she reached the entrance to the hidden village and leaning against the stone wall, ears trained on the quiet words floating on chilly air.

“Where are you?” he was whispering, kneeling along the main road of Silver City, fingers touching the heads of each figure in a garden surrounded by wildflowers. Not finding what, or who, he was looking for, he moved on, to a small building vaguely resembling a school. “I can’t hear you. Where are you? Where did you go?”

Her heart ached as she watched the broken boy before her, so lost in his fabricated world, so desperately needing it to be real. Whatever happened in the past week—Charlie wouldn’t tell her everything, only enough for her to know he’d found the people responsible for his sister’s death after his grandmother’s passing—it had overwhelmed him. Taken from him what was left of his reality, sending him deeper into an imagination crafted by tragedy.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another, each one a separate realization of the illusion she was only just now recognizing as one. She cried for Finn, a man so strong he held in twenty years of anguish until finally reaching his breaking point. She cried for the relationship they would never have again, one built upon a fictional life leading to an impossible future. And she cried for Finley, the little girl she played with as a child, always teasing her friend over her love of princesses and snowmen.

Recognition dawned on her, bringing Amelia’s eyes to the plastic tiara placed among the mountain range along the outskirts of Silver City. She’d been so caught up in the beauty of the town before she hadn’t taken the time to remember where she’d seen the crown before.

“
No princess is complete without her tiara
,” Amelia’s mother had said as she placed the gift on top of Finley’s head. It had been her seventh birthday, only a month before her death, and the twins had been invited to Amelia’s house for dinner. Their own mother hadn’t even remembered, let alone planned anything special.

“
So lame
.
Princesses are
so
girly
,” Amelia had teased from the dinner table, her good-natured chide earning her a stern look from her mother. But Finley hadn’t been upset. No, she loved her princesses and dreams of marrying Prince Charming, and eventually convinced them all to bundle up in thick winter coats in order to build snowmen in the front yard.

Amelia smiled as she recalled the pathetic little snowman they made, barely two feet high with four lumpy sections to make a body, tiny stick arms, button eyes, and a pink cape that had once been Amelia’s baby blanket.

“
She needs something
,” Finley had declared, one skinny finger to her lips as she considered what was missing. Then she smiled, her entire face lighting up, and took the tiara from her head, gently setting it on top of the snowman and making sure it was centered. “
Now she’s a princess. Princess Snow
.”

“
You’re such a nerd
,” her brother put in, though he too was grinning.

In response, Finley had launched a snowball at his head, and so began an hour filled with childish squeals, a girl so excited to celebrate a friend’s birthday, and siblings who completed one another in every way possible.

Princess Snow. A three-dollar tiara. A birthday in the middle of winter. Memories from so long ago now coming back right before her eyes.

How could things so seemingly insignificant hold such power?

Amelia let out an incredulous breath, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She needed to be strong and help Finn through troubled times. “Tommy,” she called softly from the stone entrance, not wanting to startle him out of his mutterings. He didn’t answer, didn’t respond at all. Closing her eyes, she searched for the strength to try again, but to try in a way that meant giving in to the fantasy.

“F-Finn?”

Now he jumped, spinning on his heel and staring at her as though startled someone else knew where his city existed. Those seductive blue eyes focused on her so intently she nearly took a step back. He saw through her, through time and reality itself, his mind connecting pieces she couldn’t see but could feel in the weight of his stare.

“Amelia,” he breathed, the single word containing all the hurt in his heart and soul. He approached her slowly, pulling her into a tight embrace, strong arms holding her so close as though he feared she would slip away. It felt good to be in his arms, comfortable and familiar. For a moment he simply held her, head buried against her shoulder, before he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Frowning, Amelia asked, her voice muffled against his jacket, “For what?”

“I failed her. I couldn’t save her. I’m so sorry.”

Amelia pulled back enough to look him in the eyes, those tormented, ice-blue eyes. “Failed who?”

Now he released her, not able to meet her confused gaze again. “Your little sister. Snow. I failed her. I tried so hard to bring her home to you. I just…”

When he trailed off, turning back to Silver City and continuing his search for objects unknown, Amelia asked, “You just what?”

“It’s so quiet,” he answered, dropping to his knees in an area she assumed was a forest. Trees were crushed beneath his weight, but he didn’t notice as his hands went to his head. “It’s too quiet. Snow’s voice … She was always here with me. Now she’s gone. It’s so quiet. I can’t … It’s too quiet. Nothing makes sense.”

With that, Amelia agreed. It didn’t make sense. Silver City, Finley’s murder, this imaginary girl who apparently was also her little sister. She wanted her old life back, where she no longer mourned her friend’s death and loved a man who was as charming as he was tough. There was no going back to that life now. All she could do was help him find his way back to his own.

“It … it wasn’t your fault. It’s okay … Finn.” She had to get him out of his city, away from a fake world filled with fake people, give him a return to real life. Taking his arm, she attempted to gently steer him away. “We’ll survive this somehow. We have to accept it and move on. It’s … it’s what she would want.”

“No.” He shook his head and yanked his arm out of her grasp. “I won’t accept it. Charlie said she wasn’t gone. We just have to find her.” Again his hands pressed over his ears, closing out the world around him. “We have to listen. If I can hear her again, we can find her. I have to hear her.”

The anguished words pricked at her heart and she wanted desperately to take his hands from his head, stop them from tugging at his hair, but knew her efforts would be in vain. He was suffering the worst kind of hurt—the knowledge that after all his hoping, praying, dreaming,
trying,
after giving Snow a brand-new perfect life, he still couldn’t save the girl who held his heart. There were no words to make this better. No medicines, no doctors.

She had but one offering to give the hurting boy.

With a hard swallow and desolate sigh, Amelia resigned herself to what she had to do. She reached into her pocket while stepping over the cobblestone road to where he was crouched by the miniature cemetery. Kneeling at his side, one arm around his shoulder, Amelia held her hand out in front of her. Caught in his grief, he didn’t notice.

“Finn,” she whispered, waiting until he looked at her, then followed her eyes down to her hand.

His breath left him, the sound a mix of shock, disbelief, and joy. With trembling fingers, Finn took the figure from her palm, cradling it in his own. “Snow. But…” He looked up at Amelia with a small shake of his head. “Charlie said she—”

“Charlie was wrong.”

Gingerly, as though holding a newborn child, Finn straightened, then picked his way across Silver City to a small smattering of houses. His footsteps were meticulously placed. Amelia saw the deliberate footings that allowed him to travel his city without destroying his creations, paths made to blend in with each street and hill of the natural land.

Finn moved to the largest house in a white-picket neighborhood. It was a cozy home with white walls, a long driveway, and a wide backyard decorated in an array of tiny tables and chairs perfect for large family and friend gatherings. By one of those tables sat two paperclip parents side by side, across from them a wooden black-haired girl, the fourth chair empty.

A smile broke out on Finn’s tired face as he placed the figure in that empty chair. His hand lingered on the girl’s head, fingers trembling in the aftershock of finally getting her back.

“You’re home, Snow,” he whispered in a tone so relieved it brought fresh tears to Amelia’s eyes. “Just like I promised.”

There was a shift in him then, one even Amelia could see, and she knew without him saying a word that his world was no longer a quiet one.

She lost all sense of time as she watched him, only her eyes tracing his path through the town as he moved people and vehicles around, building entire days in just minutes. A party at a house along the outskirts of town, a black Mustang speeding along the street, an ambulance bringing a woman to the hospital, a showdown at the bright-green trailer. And then, a reunion with the golden-haired girl and her family, a wood-carved boy with matching blue eyes joining them for a meal. Occasionally his lips would move as he mumbled to himself, other times he was completely silent while listening to a voice inside his head only he could hear.

Snow had returned to Finn.

It comforted Amelia to know he had found his peace. Even though to her it seemed he was simply playing with toys, beautiful and unique but toys nonetheless, it was clear what world he wanted, needed, to live in. And who was she to rip him out of it?

Forcing herself to look away, Amelia retreated out of Silver City, her eyes welling with unshed tears, cheeks stained with those already fallen. Finn didn’t detect her exit, consumed with a conversation in his mind as he moved people around his city of a restructured earth. Only when she reached the patio did she realize Charles was still watching from the kitchen window. He gave her a small nod before turning away, leaving Finn to his world, telling her to do the same.

“Finntastic.” Behind her, Finn chuckled, shaking his head to himself, the wide grin on his face purer than she’d ever seen before. “Only you, Snow.”

With a final look back, Amelia let Finn’s deep voice fill her one last time. She couldn’t help but smile at how happy he was, no longer tormented, no longer at war with the silence. Part of her wondered if he’d ever come back to her, in any way. Another part acknowledged that Tommy was gone, and had been since the day his sister left him alone.

“Take care of him, Snow,” Amelia whispered, tear-coated brown eyes lifting to the sky for only a moment as she remembered her friends as they used to be, who they could have been. She didn’t need to understand. She only needed to accept.

And so she said her silent good-bye, leaving the boy named Finn to the story he’d created, taking with her the chaos of her own cruel world.

2015 HAS BEEN a trying year, writing often taking a backseat to focus on important home and personal matters. But, through it all, I have had an amazing network of friends, family, and colleagues there to be my shoulders to lean against.
The Silent Sounds of Chaos
was a labor of love, and many people were part of the journey.