Introduction

A Kind of Hush examines how life is seldom a tidy affair exploring whether there is a gray area between right and wrong. Matt and Summer Mackie with children Willa and Gabe are enjoying a June outing at nearby Zoar Valley Gorge, an area showcasing waterfalls, forests, shale cliffs, and a whitewater creek running through the ravine, when tragedy strikes. One parent survives along with their teenage daughter and seven-year-old son found hiding in the nearby woods. Was this a tragic accident or something more heinous, and if so, whodunnit and whydunit?

Set in Buffalo, New York, and in the Big Bend area of Texas, the heart of the novel centers on how survivors deal with the circumstances and subsequent revelations surrounding the incident. But as each one begins to piece together the events of that day a mantle of ambiguity—a kind of hush—hangs between them like a live grenade without its pin.

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Excerpt

2012 June Solstice. Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity is easier to grasp than a teenage girl. Reportedly, a “typical” teen might exhibit all seven personalities associated with this age group with Willa Mackie’s photograph at the top of the profile page. She changed gears faster than a race car driver, often a darling until spoken to then spewing the venom of a dragon spitting fire in response. Mornings before school introduced the drama queen of the day, as if the end of the world lurked nearby because it was Monday and she wanted it to be Tuesday. Spending time with family was seldom a priority in her teenage world.

The family’s weekend outing was planned for departure around noon. While Matt and Gabe played tag football in the backyard, Summer, for the third time, climbed the stairs to Willa’s bedroom. She jiggled the doorknob. It was locked. Praying for the ability to bury a groundswell of impatience amid the urge to take an ax to the door, Summer took a deep breath and knocked—the response from the other side, a razor-sharp, “Mom, if you keep bugging me, I’ll never be ready."

“Is there anything wrong. Can I help?”

"Just leave me alone. All my jeans are dirty.”

"It’s warm today. Put on some shorts and let’s go. Dad’s getting antsy.”

"No, my legs are all white and ugly and my hair—who did I get this bushy brown mess from? Have I told you how much I just hate it?”

"Yes, numerous times. Your curls are from my mother—your grandmother—Willa. It seemed to work for Emma Watson in Harry Potter—remember Hermione Granger?”

“She’s a movie star. I’m Brillo Pad Willa at school.”

"Honey, we can’t fix that today, but I promise, we’ll check with a beautician to see what we can do to relax your curls. I’m trying to give you space but.?.?.?.”

"Try harder, Mom?.?.?.?I’ll be down when I’m ready.”

Around four o’clock the family buckled their seatbelts and Matt shifted the Jeep Patriot into reverse, backing out of the driveway of their Lakeview home on Prospect Avenue. Willa nestled close to the window carping about a stomachache, arms folded across her lap at the sheer injustice of being hustled out of the house so fast she forgot her MP3 player loaded with her favorite Backstreet Boys’ hits. Gabe’s knees slapped together as he mouthed the words while reading one of his Encyclopedia Brown books. The catalyst of his imagination visible—he was the boy detective solving cases in the neighborhood. The whistling through the open windows brought to mind a wind instrument playing in harmony with Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” blaring from the radio. Matt side-glanced at his wife. Summer was blessed with almond-shaped eyes as vivid as a gentian sea under a cloudless sky, and a long raven-tinted mane that drifted in the breeze like a mermaid’s weightless hair in a tide pool. The couple was finally doing something unencumbered and healthy. In an hour they would be soaking up the natural splendor of the Zoar Valley Gorge, absorbing the balmy weather, and, with a little luck, nestling back into symmetry, emulating the common place of Harper Lee’s fictional house of Finch.

Following Point Peter Road for about a mile, they turned left on Valentine Flats at the paint-peeling farmhouse where the grommets on an American flag dinged against a tall metal pole in the front yard. The parking area dead-ended into the trailhead where the Mackies piled out of the car led by Matt and Summer holding hands while Gabe hop-scotched behind them. Willa followed, yawning and lamenting at the cruelty of spending time with her lame family in the middle of nowhere, when she could be hanging out with her friends. If her parents insisted on seeing waterfalls, they could at least have gone to Niagara for the real thing.

The path from the parking area led to where the trail down to the creek began. About halfway there, Gabe, jumping from one foot to the other, pulled on his mother’s arm announcing he had to go to the bathroom.

"I asked you specifically if you had to go when we got here.”

"But I didn’t hafta then.”

"Mom, like if it’ll shut him up, I’ll take him,” said Willa.

Broody clouds darkened Summer’s mood. “I can’t lose another child.?.?.?.” She gasped at how cruel her remark sounded, but she couldn’t pull the words back. Willa walked away with a dismissive wave of her hand, showing Summer the dagger delivered to her daughter’s heart was already leaking contempt.

Matt put his arm around Summer, his knuckle stroking her cheek. Her eyes cut over to meet his. “I’m sorry for what I said. I just panicked at the thought of Gabe.?.?.?.”

“I know but smothering him won’t keep him safe. He doesn’t need anyone to hold his hand. And, after all he’s just going to the forestroom?.?.?.?instead of the bathroom?.?.?.?get it?” Matt snickered.

"Yes, clever but not funny.”

"My customers think I’m a hoot.”

"Owls hoot—don’t give up your day job.”

Gabe, unable to stick around until the potty issue was decided, wandered off to find the nearest tree, stopping on the way to pick up a flat rock. Examining it closely, he rubbed his fingers over the layers before putting it in his pocket.

“Gabriel?.?.?.?hurry up. We’re waiting for you, son,” hollered Matt.

Meanwhile, the rest of the family soaked in the spectacular views and fields of wildflowers dotted with kidney-leaf and golden swamp buttercups swaying alongside northern white violets. Time is a foggy notion to a child and for Gabe it was reminiscent of a feather in the wind charting its own path with every gust. He circled his tree twice while zipping his pants then gamboled back to where he had left his parents and sister, but before Gabe could call out to them, he was distracted by a clicking noise coming from a stranger running past. When he looked back, his family had vanished. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:

Shortly after my debut novel, Life in a Box, was published, I scratched out a young boy’s profile in the middle of the night along with a few sentences and an ending. I didn’t know the whole story, but I knew Gabriel Edward Mackie had to be in whatever I wrote next. He exudes the characteristics of giftedness, intellectually playful, high energy and a vivid imagination using art to express his feelings. Patrick, his grandfather, says he’s “so young but has the vision of a John Rockefeller…some people have strength of mind…his is of the soul.” On a side note, I’m having a terrible time putting Gabe to bed and have jokingly warned my grandsons that he’s likely to be in my will. --Author JoDee Neathery

1. His “old soul” insights are prominent throughout the novel. What are some examples? Victor Kurtz is a complicated, quirky, and disturbing character with more than his share of issues as outlined throughout the narrative…an accused pedophile with Tourette’s who found a way to clear his name of a heinous crime and place the blame on those caustic family members who hung him out to dry.

2. In the end, were you able to find any sympathy for this tortured soul or did you feel his actions were too difficult to offer any positive energy toward him? Patrick and Margo Mackie, childhood sweethearts and married for over forty-years, had grown apart and were secretly living separately when their only son, Matt, needed their strength and guidance to deal with the tragedy of losing his wife, Summer, and caring for his two young children.

3. How did the family’s tragedy change their perspective towards each other and what role did they assume in the lives of Matt, Willa, and Gabe? I sat down with my own book club for a question-and-answer session about my novel. One of the questions that fostered the most discussion was Matt’s handling of Willa’s confession and culpability in the death of her mother. To me the scene spoke to the theme of the novel – is there a gray area between right and wrong – fitting Matt’s forgiving personality. I wrote it in a way to give her some hope of becoming a worthwhile adult.

4. Were you angry that Willa was protected by her dad and paid no consequences for her actions?

5. Were her actions “understandable” since her mother blamed her for the death of their young son, Griff?

6. Was Willa’s story posted on Wattpad a scream for help or some way to cope with the guilt for what she had done?

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