These Things Hidden

by Heather Gudenkauf

  Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I pass my hand underneath the running water, its steam filling the room. I reach into the hot water and fish around for the rubber stopper to plug the drain. Oh, how good it would feel to climb into the tub and feel the warm water against my skin, to submerge myself completely so there is nothing but dark and quiet. Why did I come here? I’m not sure anymore.

  From the other room I hear Joshua calling for his mother. I wipe away the tears I’ve found on my face and go to him.

  Claire

  Claire looks at Allison in disbelief. Allison was the girl who had drowned her newborn baby girl? She knew something bad had happened for Allison to have gone to prison. But she didn’t think it was cold-blooded murder. Claire remembers hearing about the baby on the news. Baby drowned… A sixteen-year-old girl…arrested…

  “What happened?” Claire remembers asking.

  Her husband hesitated. “A sixteen-year-old girl drowned her newborn baby,” Jonathan said as he brushed the hair from his wife’s forehead.

  Claire felt the bubbling of bile rise in her throat.

  “Are you okay, Claire?” Jonathan asked, looking down on her with concern.

  Claire shook her head soundlessly. How could she put it into words? “It’s not fair,” Claire finally said. “It’s not fair!” she repeated, knowing that she sounded like a querulous child who didn’t get her way. Jonathan moved closer and reached a tentative hand toward her, and Claire pulled away from him, knowing that she would scream if anyone touched her just then. “How could she just throw a baby away when we want one so much?” Claire cried. Jonathan didn’t answer her. What could be said?

  Five years ago, she would have done anything to be able to have a child. And that girl—that monster, she had thought—would do anything so she wouldn’t have to.

  Claire looks at Allison and shakes her head. She can’t fathom how a woman—a girl, she amends, because she looks so young, even five years later—could have done something so evil. How God could have given this girl a baby, two babies, had given her body the power to knit together all the wondrous elements that go into creating a baby, and for her, nothing.

  Jonathan rushes through the front door of Bookends and Claire runs to meet him. “Jonathan, thank God you’re here.”

  “What’s going on?” He scans the room, taking in Allison’s and Charm’s stricken faces, Reanne’s angry scowl and Binks’s embarrassed confusion. Silently, Claire hands Jonathan the photograph.

  “He’s ours,” Claire says to no one in particular. “We adopted him. Joshua’s our son.”

  Brynn

  Joshua sleepily calls for his mother and I quickly go to him. “Joshua,” I whisper. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’m right here.”

  “Where’s my mommy?” he asks, trying to keep his eyes open.

  “Shhh,” I soothe. “Shhh.” I sit down next to him and pull him onto my lap. He tries to squirm away, but I hold him tightly. Finally, he relaxes; his head rests on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Joshua. Just close your eyes. See, just like me.” I close my eyes to show him what I mean.

  I had nearly tumbled into the river, just as my mother had prophesized, but with one hand grabbed the trunk of a thin, scraggly tree. Instead, I fell to my knees into the thick mud that edged the stream. I repositioned the dead baby in her blanket and for a moment thought about burying her there, at the river’s edge. But I dismissed the idea; I’d have to return to the garage for a shovel, and time was passing too quickly as it was. The temperature seemed to have dropped twenty degrees and I shivered with each gust of wind. The clouds broke above me, revealing the bitter, yellow moon that gave off enough light to see the river before me. It rushed ruthlessly past, frothing over rocks, carrying logs and branches. I kissed my niece’s cold cheek and told her I loved her and that if I had my way she would be with me forever. I even considered, just for a second, that I could have been the one to raise her. Allison wasn’t exactly mothering material. In my own misguided way, I performed a little funeral. I said a prayer over her and carefully rearranged the towel around her.

  Just I released her gently into the swift-moving water, I heard the cry. A weak, mournful squawk, as if the feel of the cold, rushing water had shocked her back to life.

  I leaped into the water, not feeling the cold. The river was up to my knees and I slogged with the current for a few yards when she went under for the first time. Quickly, she bobbed up. Trying to plant my feet on the rocky river bottom, I leaped forward until I was just behind her. The towel had been swept away and her pitiful naked form rolled out of my reach. With a grunt of fury I managed to surge forward and grab hold of something—a finger, a toe, I couldn’t tell—but the river was too strong, pulsing and roiling forward, and I lost my balance and went under. Water filled my eyes, my ears, my mouth, and she slipped away from me. I had lost her.

  I tried to kill myself that night. That was the first time I actually made a real effort at it, even though I’d imagined the many different ways I could end my life over the years. Pills, the gun my father had hidden underneath his socks in his dresser, climbing to the roof of our ridiculously big house to swan dive onto our decorative concrete driveway. I remember wondering if bloodstains came out of cement and getting a twisted satisfaction of my mother having to walk past that blot, the remainder of me, the reminder of me. She’d probably tear out the concrete and start all over again.

  After I realized the baby was alive—breathing—and that I had lost her, I tried to drown myself. I held my breath and waited for the warm calm that was supposed to come after the initial panic of drowning passes. I could feel the pressure build in my head, behind my eyes, in my lungs. I tried to stay beneath the surface of the water, tried to grab on to something that would hold me down, but the river had other ideas. It pushed and shoved and spit me out onto the bank as if it couldn’t stand the thought of swallowing me, as if I would leave a bad taste in its mouth. Couldn’t blame it, really.

  I curled up in a little ball at the side of the Druid. The rain beat down on me until my skin was numb. I thought about what was going to happen when people found out what I had done and I willed myself to disappear into the mud that squelched beneath me. No such luck. Finally, I got up. Allison would know what to do, my sister would know.

  When I came upon her at the edge of the woods, I barely noticed she was bent over in pain. “Where’s the baby?” she managed to grunt.

  “The river.” The word felt obscene to my ears.

  “What do you mean?” Allison asked. There was fear in her voice and she knew, she knew.

  “She was pretty,” I said, knowing that wasn’t the thing to say just then, but not knowing how to explain it. Allison misunderstood and I saw her eyes widen with horror.

  “You drowned her because she was pretty?” she said angrily, and then grabbed me by the arm. I flinched, thinking she was going to hit me, but she just held on to me as if trying to steady herself so she wouldn’t fall over.

  I shook my head back and forth, back and forth. “No,” I moaned. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Brynn, what happened?” Allison asked.

  “It was like it ate her,” I cried, trying to explain. “It gobbled her up and it didn’t want me.”

  “Jesus, Brynn,” Allison said. Now that she had recovered from her spasm of pain, she began to shake me. “You’re not making sense! I know where we can take her. Christopher will take care of everything. He has to. Please tell me you didn’t throw her in the river.”

  “I thought she was dead,” I whispered, not able to look my sister in the eye. Not wanting to see her disgust and disappointment. “I did it for you. I was trying to help you.”

  “How does killing her help?” Allison hissed, and then doubled over in pain again.

  I shook her hand away from my arm and she dropped to her knees.

  “You’re mad?” I said in disbelief. “You didn’t want her—you pretty much told me to get rid of it. That�
�s what you called her, an it! I didn’t mean to hurt her, I thought she was already dead!” I turned and began to run back toward the house. Ungrateful bitch, I thought.

  “Wait!” I heard from behind me. “Please, Brynn, I need you. Don’t leave!”

  I ignored her and ran away, covering my ears, trying to block out her voice.

  The weight of the little boy on my lap is both comforting and suffocating. “Joshua,” I say, and his eyes flutter open. “Did you know you have a sister?” His mouth opens and closes as if he is trying to speak, then his eyes close again. “Yes, a sister. A pretty, pretty sister. Do you want to meet her?”

  I struggle to my feet, Joshua’s limp body heavy in my arms, and move toward the sound of the running water. “Oh, you are so much heavier than she was,” I whisper in his ear. I can almost hear the crickets chirping, hear the rush of the river, feel the summer breeze against my neck. “Finally, finally,” I tell him, “you can be together.” And I lay him in the water, gently, lovingly, offering Joshua to his sister.

  Allison

  Jonathan is still staring in shock at the photo of Charm holding Joshua. Binks takes a small, slow step backward, as if trying to escape unnoticed. Charm’s mother is looking on with a twisted smile and an odd gleam in her eyes. She actually seems to be enjoying this.

  I hear her before I see her. The slow, echoing thump of footfalls on the steps, an odd sucking sound, the squeak of a door opening. My sister steps from the shadows, her arms held awkwardly away from her body. “Brynn, what’s the matter?” I ask. “What’s going on?” She doesn’t answer, but continues moving toward us. As she gets closer I see that she is soaking wet, her shoes squelching with water as she moves. Her eyes are dull and dead-looking, but her face is relaxed and I see something new in my sister’s expression. An expression I don’t ever remembering seeing cross her face. Relief.

  “Brynn,” I say again, this time more loudly. “What’s the matter?” Still no answer. I move in front of her and grab her arms. “Brynn, where is Joshua?”

  “They’re together now,” she murmurs, gliding past me as if in a trance.

  Claire

  Claire stares in confusion as Allison’s sister wanders slowly past, water dripping from her clothes. “Brynn?” she asks. “Are you okay? Where’s Joshua?” She doesn’t answer, but mutters quietly to herself and starts to move toward the front door of the store.

  “Brynn,” Claire says more loudly. “Where’s Joshua?” Nothing. Jonathan and Claire look at each other and Jonathan reaches for Brynn’s arm.

  “It’s okay now, they’re together,” Brynn whispers in a singsong voice. Jonathan loosens his grip and she pulls away from him.

  “Oh, my God…Joshua,” Claire whimpers, and she and Jonathan scramble toward the steps. Allison follows closely behind, slipping once and knocking her shin against the hardwood floor.

  “Joshua!” Claire yells. “Joshua!” She bursts into the apartment and moves toward the sound of running water.

  Charm

  Charm can hear Claire and Jonathan calling for Joshua and she moves to follow them up the steps. Brynn bumps into her, and she can feel the wetness of her clothes. “What’s happening?” Charm asks as she continues past her. “Why are you all wet?”

  Brynn stops suddenly and looks at Charm, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Together,” she whispers. “Together, together. I need to go.” Brynn dazedly points toward the door. “I need to tell her….”

  Charm watches in fascination as Brynn slogs from the bookstore, water dripping from her clothes.

  A scream comes from the apartment above. “Someone help!” Charm kicks off her shoes and scurries up the steps with her mother and Binks right behind. Her heart is pounding, fearful of what they’re going to find when they reach the top.

  Claire

  “Call 9-1-1! Please…” Claire cries.

  Jonathan digs into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his cell phone and dials. “We need help,” he says frantically, and gives the operator the address. “I don’t know… I don’t know. Hold on, please…”

  “Oh, my God…Joshua.” Claire pulls at Joshua’s shirt, trying to drag him from the tub. His clothing is saturated with water, heavy and unyielding, and he keeps sliding from her grip. Jonathan thrusts the phone to Allison and reaches into the tub. He grabs a handful of Joshua’s hair, pulls him to the surface and gathers him into his arms. Allison, in a strangled voice, is telling the 9-1-1 operator to send an ambulance.

  Charm, who had moments ago been nearly hysterical at her mother’s ranting, has suddenly become businesslike and composed. “Lay him down,” she orders Jonathan. He carefully lays Joshua onto the hardwood floor and Claire gasps at the blue cast of his skin, the stillness of his chest. As Charm places her ear next to his mouth, she asks, “Is an ambulance on its way?”

  “Yes, they’re coming,” Allison cries.

  Charm leans over Joshua and checks to make sure his airway is clear while Claire and Jonathan watch helplessly. “What can I do?” Allison asks.

  “Go meet the ambulance, bring them up here,” Charm commands, and then puts her fingers to Joshua’s neck. Allison runs down the stairs.

  “Is he breathing?” Claire asks, her voice breaking.

  She gives a small shake of her head and breathes one breath into Joshua’s mouth, then begins the series of chest compressions, using only one hand on his tiny chest.

  In the distance they hear the wail of the ambulance. “Is he breathing?” Claire asks Charm again, but knows that he is not. She grabs on to Jonathan and they clutch each other desperately, watching, waiting, for any sign of life. “Please,” Claire chants over and over again. “Please.” And all she can think is that she was given this precious little life to care for and protect and she has failed. She has failed.

  Charm

  “Breathe, one, two, three, four…” Charm whispers with each compression, counting to thirty before starting the process all over again. She has lost track of how long she’s been doing CPR. Her arms are tiring and in the distance she can hear an ambulance. Thank God.

  Next to her, Charm can hear Jonathan’s ragged sobs and Claire begging Joshua to start breathing. “Please breathe, Joshua, please,” she pleads.

  Charm feels more eyes on her and looks up to see her mother and Binks standing in the doorway and a wave of anger surges through her veins. “Get out!” she yells. “Leave now—we need room for the EMTs to get us.” Without a word, Reanne and Binks disappear. Charm knows that for how much her mother loves drama, she never would have wanted this. The siren gets louder and then the sound of stomping feet climbing the steps fills the hallway. With one final compression on his thin, bony chest, Joshua’s body convulses and water spews from his mouth and he begins to breathe again—short, shallow breaths, but he is breathing. Charm falls against the wall in exhaustion. The EMTs take over and in seconds Joshua is whisked away.

  “Thank you,” Claire manages to tell Charm, laying one grateful hand on her arm as she and Jonathan follow them out the door.

  Allison kneels down next to Charm, her eyes red with crying. “You saved him.”

  Why, then, Charm wonders, does it feel like I’m the one who ruined his life?

  Claire

  Jonathan and Claire follow Joshua to the hospital in Jonathan’s truck. “He was breathing, wasn’t he? He was breathing?” Claire keeps asking fiercely.

  “He was, he is,” Jonathan says, as if trying to reassure himself. “Jesus, what happened up there?” he wonders, and Claire can only shake her head. Claire doesn’t know why Joshua was in that bathtub. She can’t even imagine what was going on in Brynn’s mind. She doesn’t want to know. If Claire had been thinking clearly, she would have never, ever sent Joshua up those stairs with Brynn Glenn. She didn’t even know her and she had just learned that her sister was not who she made herself out to be. But there was so much going on—Reanne screaming obscenities and crazy accusations, seeing the photograph of Charm. Joshua was t
errified and all she wanted to do was get him out of there, get him somewhere he felt safe and secure. How could they have not known who Allison Glenn really was? Were they so busy being new parents to Joshua that they were completely oblivious as to what was going on in their own town? She had tried to do the right thing, be a good mother, but was it enough? Was it too late?

  Jonathan can’t keep up with the ambulance and by the time they arrive at the hospital Joshua has already been taken away. Jonathan and Claire sit in the waiting area, holding on to each other, crying. Claire somehow manages to call her sister, who promises to call their mother. They will come to Linden Falls as quickly as they can.

  Charm shows up a short time later, peeking around the corner of the waiting room door, hesitant to enter.

  “I made sure Truman was okay and I locked up the store for you,” Charm says. “I got rid of my mother, too. She won’t bother you again.”

  Claire looks around. “Where’s Allison?”

  Charm’s eyes are bloodshot and her nose is red from crying. “She went to find her sister. I’m so sorry…so, so sorry,” she sobs, her face crumpling.

  “I called the police,” Jonathan says, an angry edge creeping into his voice. “There are too many questions about what happened.” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “What happened to Allison’s sister? Where is she?”