The Other Child

by Joanne Fluke

  “Mr. Fischer?” Karen raised her voice, but she was no competition for the whine of the power mower. “Mr. Fischer?”

  The elderly gardener stopped and turned, shutting off the machine as he saw her standing there. He grinned widely, showing the gaps in his tobacco-stained teeth.

  “Found you a little surprise, Mrs. Houston. Your husband told me to cut real close to the house this time, so I mowed down these bushes and look what I found!”

  Karen’s eyes followed his pointing finger and she saw a weathered door, flush with the ground. Before Red had mowed here, it had been completely overgrown and hidden by shrubbery.

  “Bet a city dweller like you don’t know what that is.” Red grinned as Karen shook her head. “That’s a root cellar. People used them all the time to store things like potatoes and onions. Sometimes they even hid valuables down there. Do you want me to saw that lock off so you can look inside?”

  “Not today, Mr. Fischer.” She stared at the root cellar with interest. “It’s getting late and I’d like you to stop at the store and pick up the supplies we need for the rose garden. Leslie and I want to help with that. We want to learn more about gardening if you’ll teach us.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Houston. That little girl of yours looks like she’s got a green thumb. It does folks good to work in the earth and make things grow. You want me to pick up some stakes for the arborvitae, too? The ones in the front are leaning some.”

  “Pick up whatever you need.” Karen gave him a smile. “You’re the expert, Mr. Fischer. You’ve certainly done a beautiful job so far.”

  Karen couldn’t help walking closer to the root cellar and she knelt down to examine the lock. She heard the sound of Red’s pickup truck as it started with a cough, and she sighed. Perhaps she should have asked him to saw off the lock. She’d really love to take a look at the root cellar right now. It was too bad the key wasn’t hanging in the shed.

  “The key!” Karen drew Leslie’s key from her pocket. She had found it in the yard. It was certainly old enough and it was a padlock key. If she was really lucky, it might fit.

  Karen felt uneasy as she reached for the lock. She wasn’t sure if she felt up to exploring right now. Somehow she had the feeling that she should leave well enough alone and let the shrubbery grow back to hide it again.

  She gave a short laugh and felt silly. She was a grown woman, and it was just an old root cellar. She’d never know what was down there if she didn’t try to unlock it.

  The lock was rusty and Karen jiggled the key, trying to turn it. She was almost ready to give up when something clicked inside the lock. It opened with a protesting squeak. What a stroke of luck. So Leslie’s key had been valuable after all! She could hardly wait to tell her.

  Karen lifted the door carefully, propping it open with a sturdy branch from Red’s woodpile. Then she looked dubiously at the rotten wooden steps leading downward. She’d have to be very careful not to fall. It actually might be better to wait until Leslie woke up to climb down there, but she was anxious to make this discovery all by herself. She’d just take a quick peek around and then lock it up again. That way Leslie could have the same exciting discovery later.

  Slowly and carefully Karen started down the steps, testing the wood first with one foot before she put her full weight on the step. An odor greeted her as she descended. It was the smell of damp darkness and musty wood. And it was cool, at least ten degrees cooler than the air outside.

  She stopped halfway down and blinked. Now she wished she’d thought to bring a flashlight. It was dark down here and all she could see were dim shapes in the gloom. She’d go all the way to the bottom and then stop to let her eyes adjust. There should be enough light coming in through the opening to illuminate the shelves right in front of her.

  She didn’t hear the rustling until she was three quarters of the way down. There was something here! Karen gave a scream and tried to turn on the narrow steps, her heart pounding frantically. Her foot slipped and then she was falling clumsily, clutching with her hands for a railing that wasn’t there.

  She hit solidly, so solidly that her teeth bit into her lip. There was blinding pain and she gasped weakly, pressing both hands to her rounded stomach. The baby!

  The pain was so intense it drove everything else from her mind. It hit her like a blow, rhythmic and searing, tearing her breath from her body. There was a sticky wetness between her legs and she called out weakly for help.

  It was darker now and there was a high-pitched ringing in her ears. Karen knew she had to get out of here before she fainted. The scrabbling sound from the darkest corners of the root cellar was getting louder. It was coming for her!

  She screamed once in terror and then she crawled, fingers clawing desperately in the earthen floor to pull herself forward. Too slow . . . God! It was coming closer and she couldn’t get away!

  The first step was in front of her now and she hoisted herself up, not caring about the pain, not caring that the wooden splinters dug into her hands. She had to get out of here.

  Another step and then another. She fought to stay conscious, pulling herself forward on bleeding knees and painful hands. Something was waiting down there in the darkness, waiting for her to faint and fall back, waiting to trap her in the dead blackness. She couldn’t fall; she had to keep climbing. There was the square of sky, growing larger with each step she mounted. The sky and the sunshine . . . she had to make it.

  She could see the old elm tree in the square of bright daylight. Karen willed herself forward, fighting the weakness that was stealing over her body in waves. She was almost there . . . just another few seconds and she’d be at the top. Her fingers grasped the opening . . . up . . . up . . . the sky dull red as she dragged herself into fiery daylight.... She’d made it! She crawled forward until her fingers were buried in the freshly cut grass. Now the sky was fading to black, coming in a rush before she could even open her mouth to scream.

  SEVENTEEN

  Leslie awoke with a sense that the house was much too quiet. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, noticing it was getting dark outside. She wondered where her mom was and what she was working on now.

  Leslie went down the stairs and stopped at the landing, listening. “Mom?” she yelled. “Where are you? Mom?” Had she gone out without even waking her to let her know?

  There was no answer from the third floor or the second. She looked around the kitchen and out the back door. Where was she? Leslie felt very alone, and automatically reached for the key around her neck, thinking Christopher would calm her down and possibly help her out. It was gone! Panic rushed over her. She had to find her mother.

  She ran outside, shouting for Karen. She tripped on the exposed root of a tree, but she kept right on running, unreasoning panic driving her on. She didn’t see the open root-cellar door until she rounded the corner. Then she screamed wildly as she found her mother lying there motionless on the ground.

  “Mom! Oh, Mom. . . . Please!” Leslie threw herself on the ground next to Karen, but was afraid to touch her. Her mother looked like a wax mannequin, she was so white. There was blood seeping under her, staining the newly cut grass deep red. For a moment she froze, breath caught in her throat. She was all alone and Mom was hurt, maybe dying.

  Get help—she had to call for help. The moment she thought of it she was racing toward the house on shaking legs, running so fast she almost fell. She stopped at the phone, suddenly panic stricken. She didn’t know who to call.

  Rob Comstock. Now she was dialing, fingers shaking in fear. Rob would know what to do. He had to be at his office. He had to help her.

  Leslie fairly shouted into the receiver when he answered. Mom was hurt and she told him to come right away. Then she ran back to her mother’s side to wait, squeezing Karen’s unresponsive fingers, tears streaming down her cheeks. There was blood all over and Mom was hurt . . . a trail of blood leading from that hole in the ground.

  Then she saw it and reached out frantically . . . a rusty pa
dlock in the grass with her key inside. She pulled out the key and sobbed in relief. She had her key back. Everything would be all right now.

  “Good thinking, honey.” Rob hugged Leslie hard. She was so scared, her whole body was trembling, and he kept his arms around her.

  “Dr. Simmons will take care of your mother, honey. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. You were really brave, Leslie. You did exactly the right thing, calling me.”

  The poor kid. Rob could see how pale she was. Of course she was terrified, having found her mother that way.

  “Can you tell me how to reach Mike, honey?” Rob made his voice warm and reassuring. “I think we should call him right away, don’t you?”

  Leslie nodded. She found the number of the magazine and stood right by the phone while he talked to Mike. She was so glad Mr. Comstock was staying until Mike got here. She got scared every time she thought of her mother’s white face.

  “Let’s go upstairs and check on your mother.” Rob gave her an encouraging smile. “I think Dr. Simmons is through with his examination by now. Don’t worry, Leslie. I’m sure your mother is going to be fine.”

  The doctor stepped outside when they knocked softly on her mother’s door. He nodded at Rob and leaned down to talk to the pretty, little blond girl.

  “She’s just fine, honey.” Dr. Simmons patted Leslie on the head. “She needs a lot of rest, but I don’t think we have to take her to the hospital. You look like a good nurse, young lady. Just make sure your mother gets lots of sleep and stays nice and quiet. Can you do that?”

  Leslie nodded quickly. She’d do anything the doctor said.

  “The new baby?” Leslie almost whispered the words. “Is the new baby all right, Doctor?”

  Dr. Simmons winced. He didn’t like to be the bearer of bad news, but someone had to tell her. He supposed he ought to be used to the unpleasant after thirty years as a small-town physician.

  “I’m afraid not, honey.” He knelt down and held her small hands in his. “There is no new baby anymore, dear. Your mother had a very serious fall.”

  Leslie nodded solemnly. She’d read all her mother’s books on pregnancy and she knew what had happened. Mom had had a miscarriage from the fall. She’d have to take very good care of her now. And just as soon as the doctor left, she’d find a very strong leather thong for her key. It seemed as though bad things could happen if she lost it. She decided she’d never let it out of her sight again.

  He broke speed laws all the way home. An accident! Rob had said that Karen and Leslie were both all right, but wasn’t that what they usually said? Mike screeched into the driveway, gravel scattering as he skidded to a stop and jumped out of the truck.

  Rob was waiting for him in the kitchen. “Sit down, Mike. Everything’s fine now.” Rob pointed to a chair.

  “Where’s Karen? What kind of accident? What happened?”

  “She’s upstairs, resting comfortably,” Rob assured him. “Leslie’s with her. She took a bad fall, Mike. I guess she was exploring that old root cellar outside and she slipped on the steps. Leslie found her and called me. Dr. Simmons says she’s going to be fine.”

  “Oh, my God!” Mike stared at Rob with a horrified expression. “The baby. Is the baby all right?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Rob swallowed hard. He wished that Dr. Simmons had stayed for this part of it. “She lost the baby, Mike.... I’m really sorry. There was nothing the doctor could do. Karen’s fine, though—thank God for that! She was lucky, Mike. It’s incredible she wasn’t hurt worse. I locked that old cellar up again. It’s a menace.”

  He stopped talking and stared at Mike. Nothing he said seemed to be registering. Mike was just sitting there, hands clenched on the table in front of him, eyes vacant and fixed at a point on the opposite wall. Rob wished he knew what to do. He’d never seen a man look so miserable.

  “How about a drink?” Rob suggested thoughtfully. “Do you have anything to drink in the house, Mike? You look like you could use one right now, and so could I. There’s absolutely nothing you can do for Karen right now. Dr. Simmons gave her a shot and he said she’d sleep until morning. Leslie’s going to stay with her, just in case she needs anything. You’ve got a fine daughter there, Mike. Most kids her age would have panicked, but she ran straight to the phone and called me. Dr. Simmons said it could have been much worse if Leslie hadn’t acted so quickly.”

  “Yeah.” Mike nodded, but he didn’t really hear Rob’s words. A drink, he’d said. Rob could use a drink. Mike’s legs felt rubbery as he pulled himself upright by levering his elbows on the table.

  “Come on up to the studio.” He motioned toward the stairs. “I’ve got a bottle up there.”

  As Rob followed him up the stairs, Mike’s mind began to work again. Christ, what a shock. Why on earth had Karen been climbing around in an old root cellar in the first place? He hadn’t even known the cellar was there, but he’d lock it up for good. In her condition she should have been more careful.

  Mike opened the darkroom door and switched on the lights. He needed a drink badly. He hadn’t touched a drop yet today, even though he had joined the guys in the bar. He had wanted to prove himself to Karen. He needed something now, though—something strong to wipe out his grief. She’d lost the baby! He wanted to go to her and take her in his arms so they could cry together, but she wouldn’t even know he was there if the doctor had given her a sedative. And he didn’t want to face Leslie. She’d be terribly upset if he broke down and cried in front of her. He’d be better off staying up here with Rob.

  It was late; two A.M. by the luminous dial on her mother’s clock. She’d heard Rob leave hours ago, but Mike had stayed up in the darkroom. Now his heavy steps on the stairs awakened her.

  Leslie got up quickly, wrapping her blanket around her like a sarong. She peeked out the door and saw Mike. He was weaving back and forth and she recognized that crablike walk instantly. He’d been like this a lot when they first met him. Mike was drunk. What if he came in here and upset Mom?

  She held her breath and let it out again in a grateful sigh as he turned in the opposite direction. He was going downstairs. Leslie hoped he would stay there. Mom needed to rest. The doctor had said so.

  “I love you, Mom, and I’ll take care of you always.” Leslie whispered the words as she settled back down again in the overstuffed chair by the bed. Her mother couldn’t hear her, but it made Leslie feel better anyway. The key was warm and comforting around her neck and she snuggled up in her blanket. Everything would be all right again. She just had to believe that.

  EIGHTEEN

  “How do you feel, honey?” Mike opened the door and stepped inside. She looked so white! Karen had always been so healthy and now she looked so very sick.

  Her eyes opened and she looked at him. Then they closed again and tears squeezed out to roll down her pale cheeks. “Oh, Mike!” she whispered. “I’m so sorry!”

  “I know, honey.” He sat carefully by the side of the bed. He reached out for her hand and held it gently. “It’s all right, Karen—don’t think about it now. Just concentrate on getting well. We’ll have our baby, just as soon as you’re up to it.”

  “We can’t.” Karen’s voice was small and frightened. “We can’t have another baby now. We can’t afford it. The house, Mike. We’re going to lose this beautiful house . . . and we don’t have any money!”

  “We’re not going to lose the house, darling.” Mike patted her hand. “I’ll make sure we don’t lose it. And we’re going to have money, too. We can have as many children as you want. I’ve given up gambling for good, Karen. I swear it!”

  Something in her expression made him stop and swallow hard. She really didn’t trust him, he could see that.

  “Oh, I don’t expect you to believe me yet,” Mike said, acknowledging the doubt in her eyes. “But I’ll prove it to you. I’ve made some terrible mistakes, but everything’s going to be all right now, honey, I promise.”

  Karen still didn’t reply. It
made him nervous and he went on in a rush.

  “We’ll speed everything up, and that’ll bring in the money,” he explained. “I’ll talk to Red and see if he can work full-time. I know you can’t do much right now, but in a couple of days you’ll be on your feet. Then we can finish the house in record time.”

  Her eyes closed and Mike shifted uncomfortably on the spindly antique chair. He didn’t know what else to say. Karen certainly wasn’t being very responsive.

  “Honey?” Mike waited until she opened her eyes. “What were you doing in that root cellar? I can’t use that in my photographs.”

  “I just thought there might be some antiques down there.” Karen’s voice sounded weak and she sighed.

  “You should have waited for me.” He shook his head. “Really, honey! You took a terrible chance going down there alone.”

  “But you’re never here.” Karen looked aside, not meeting his eyes. “If I waited for you, nothing would get done.”

  “That’s why I hired Red. Stop thinking like that, Karen. You don’t have to do everything by yourself. You should have asked Red to go down there and poke around. We’ve got enough antiques for the pictures anyway. We don’t need any more.”

  “But I’m not just doing it for the pictures, Mike. This house is more than a series to me. It’s our home! It’s got to be authentic!”

  “Authentic?” His patience snapped and he stood up, glaring. “You’re going crazy with this authentic crap! Who cares if it’s authentic? I just want it finished in time for the deadline!”

  A tear ran down her cheek and it made him even angrier. He was sick of hearing about antiques and authenticity!

  “You and your damn authenticity killed our child!” The words poured out before he could stop them. “If you cared more about being a good wife and mother, we wouldn’t have lost the baby!”