Daughter of Deep Silence by Carrie Ryan Read Free Book Online Page B

face, a silent question in them. He blinks, and it’s gone. “You pierced your ears.”
    I’m taken aback by the unexpected statement. “Yes,” I say, my fingers unconsciously lifting to twist at Libby’s mother’s diamond earrings.
    He nods. “I guess you got over your fear of needles, then.”
    I almost smile. It’s been a long time since I’ve learned something new about Libby. But I can’t have him dwelling on the inconsistency, so I give him something else to dwell on instead. I look at him pointedly. “I’ve gotten over a lot of things in the last four years.”
    I’ve been standing in the foyer greeting guests for what feels like an eternity. I’d banked on my presence to induce a fairly high turnout, knowing that many in the state would pay good money to see a reunion such as this. The three survivors of the
Persephone
disaster, meeting for the first time since the ship went down four years ago. It’ll be the talk of the summer—already photographers from various newspapers stand poised, waiting.
    Which is fine with me because every single aspect of this party is a ruse. Completely designed with one goal in mind. So while I wait for the unwitting players to arrive, I patiently shake hands, accepting condolences from strangers for Cecil’s passing months before. Giving them the bitter-sad smile they’re expecting in response, letting my eyes frost with carefully controlled tears.
    And then the door opens. Everything in the world comes to a stop. Conversations fall away and it feels as though the air pressure in the room has dropped, every lung drawing breath at the same time. Holding. Watching. Waiting.
    Senator Wells comes first, his presence larger than any television could capture. He wears a perfectly tailored suit, his “you can trust me” salt-and-pepper hair impeccably combed, and just the right amount of humble confidence furrows the ridge between his eyebrows.
    I swallow thickly and square my shoulders as he approaches. He presses my hand between both of his. “I can’t thank you enough for your generous support of my campaign.” His words come out honey sweet, but if anyone else in the room could see his eyes they’d know the truth. That he’d rather be done with me, that our paths never cross again.
    That he doesn’t trust me. And he shouldn’t.
    But of course, the money from this fund-raiser is simply too much for him to pass up. Which is exactly what I’d been counting on. As the world turns and the sun rises and sets, politicians will always be in need of money. Senator Wells is no exception.
    I smile, letting the corners of my lips wobble. “It’s the least I could do for all the support you’ve given my father’s conservation efforts.”
    Senator Wells tips his head to the side, frowning slightly. He knows I’m lying. What he doesn’t know is why. “Though it’s belated, please accept our condolences on his passing.” He slips an arm around his wife and she nods as she takes my hand.
    “It’s a shame your father isn’t here to see what a beautiful and gracious hostess you’ve become,” she adds. The problem is that she’s being entirely sincere. The back of my throat tightens unexpectedly. I know she means Cecil, but for a moment I can’t stop thinking about my real father. The way he’d take my hands and pull my feet on top of his and dance me around the room on Christmas Eve.
    I close my eyes against the dizzying memory. “My beautiful Frances,” he’d say as we spun in circles.
    It’s been so long that I can’t even remember his voice. All the different ways he’d say my name: to wake me up in the morning; to call me to dinner; to scold me; to cheer me on.
    To tell me he loved me.
    That, along with everything else, was taken from me on the
Persephone
.
    How did I think I could come back and not be affected?
    Mrs. Wells squeezes my hand and says, “I’m sure you miss him terribly.”
    I nod. Words impossible.
    And then, while I’m still reeling, a