Beneath Still Waters

by Cynthia A. Graham

  Hick’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “Hick, I want to ask you a question. When you came home, why did you break off your engagement?”

  Hick felt the anger in him rise. “It’s none of your business. That ain’t what I came in here to talk about.”

  “I’m not asking as your doctor. I’m asking as your friend.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Hick said covering his eyes with his hand. Dr. Prescott had always been close to the Blackburn family. He treated his father through the years for the tumors that kept creeping back onto the skin of his face.

  “Listen, Hick,” the doctor said with a very serious tone. “A lot of men come home from war and it’s difficult. They keep to themselves; they try to pretend they’re okay and they’re not. You came home and abruptly broke off the engagement with Maggie. I thought you’d come back to your senses, and I think you almost did. You were eating at the diner a couple of times a day and speaking to her and I thought it was gonna come out okay. And then this baby came along and you’ve gone downhill ever since.”

  “You’re seeing things that ain’t there.”

  “Am I?”

  “What do you want from me? Do you want me to pretend something’s wrong when there’s not?”

  “No. I want you to acknowledge that something’s bothering you.”

  Hick scratched his neck. “It ain’t a big deal. Sometimes I smell gunpowder or blood. Sometimes I remember things. I can handle it.”

  “What about this baby has you bothered?”

  Hick began to shake. “Nothing,” he answered quickly.

  ”Nothing?”

  Hick picked up his hat. “I need to get to the station, Doc.” He started to leave and then turned saying, “Please, stop worrying. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

  The sunshine blinded him as he exited the doctor’s office. It’s fine, he told himself.

  12

  That night, Hick’s dreams took him inside the farm house. Sergeant Brody’s square shoulders were always in view, always leading the way. They were his anchor, his compass, he would not let them out of his sight. He motioned Hick to the other side of the doorway and mouthed the words One, two, three. Then they kicked open the door and the two men were enveloped in blacknes.

  Hick sat up, his breath came in gasps, his body shook, and his head was drenched in sweat. He ran his hand over his forehead and flattened his palm against his chest, his heart hammering against it. It was painful, his chest swelled and tightened and he grimaced and shifted in bed. “Breathe,” he said out loud into the darkness, hoping his body would obey. His lips were open, sucking in air and making his mouth dry.

  The moonlight streamed into the window bathing his bed in light. His eyes rested on the quilt. It was one that his mother had made for him and it seemed oddly familiar, yet out of place. He gripped it tightly, trying to remember the feelings of comfort and security that had been so much a part of his childhood. Back then, the world was as it should be. Now, it was spinning out of control.

  He checked the clock. Why was it always three o’clock? Why couldn’t he sleep until four or five? He rose from his bed, stumbled to the kitchen, and filled the percolator with water.

  Waiting for the coffee, he opened another of the stack of newspapers. This time he had gone back further. There were five months’ worth of papers scattered throughout his house and still nothing jumped out. Sheriff Blackburn has distinguished himself, once again, by bungling the case of the two young men who are known to have broken into the post office. The Federal Grand Jury has dismissed the charges stating there was not enough evidence.

  Sighing, Hick put the paper down and poured himself a cup of coffee. Wayne Murphy was a mercenary son of a bitch who would report trash on his own mother if it would sell a paper.

  The town was so small everything showed up in the newspaper, the purchase of a radio, the installation of a new party line telephone. How could something as significant as a pregnancy go unnoticed?

  He dressed, putting on his fishing clothes. It would be a day away from the station, one sorely needed. The doctor told him to stay home and rest, to give the antibiotics a chance to start working. Hick was too tired to argue the point and he knew Adam would take the doctor’s side anyway. The flannel shirt was soft and comfortable, a welcome change from the irritating tie that constantly rubbed his neck. It would be good to sit at the slough, alone and unthinking, and let the day slide by.

  By the time he arrived, the sun had risen. Still early, the birds sang loudly and the earth was breathing, its vapor sitting close to the ground, kissing the grass and leaving behind beads of moisture. It was one of those magic mornings where the sun and moon were both clearly visible at once, the full moon not yet wanting to give up its hold on the night.

  He walked around to the back end of the slough, close to where the baby was discovered. No one would find him there, he could have a day of peace. He brought the fishing pole along for good measure, but it was not his aim to catch a mess of fish to have to clean. He wanted solitude.

  He’d been there several hours and was sitting against a tree smoking a cigarette when Maggie found him. She always had an uncanny ability to discover him no matter where he was, and he didn’t feel any surprise at seeing her.

  “Hello,” she said.

  There was something uncomfortable in her eyes and he felt a sense of foreboding. She sat beside him on the bank of the slough, near enough that he could smell her. He unconsciously craned himself toward her, drinking in her scent and enjoying the closeness.

  “Hickory,” she began, looking down at her hands, “I wanted to apologize to you. I yelled at you the other day and it was wrong of me. I know we kind of worked it out at the diner last week, but I wanted to make sure you know I don’t hold it against you. I know you’re just doing your job. I’m sorry.”

  He threw the cigarette into the slough and turned to her. “I knew you didn’t mean it, Mag. It’s okay. I’m a dumb ox, you know I’ve always been one. I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  She nodded and looked out over the slough. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “I came out here today, because I wanted you to hear this from me, and not from someone else.” She paused and then said, “I’m getting married.”

  His eyes remained fixed on the black water of the slough. “When?”

  “In a couple of months. Doc thinks he can get the bleeding to stop for a bit. Then, if I can get pregnant it might fix things.”

  His heart was like a brick in his chest. It didn’t even seem to be beating. He turned to her and her eyes seemed to be questioning.

  “Do you want my permission?”

  “I don’t need your permission. I just thought, out of fairness, I should be the one to let you know.”

  “Congratulations,” he said in an odd, hollow voice.

  They sat there on the bank of the slough, unspeaking, the sobering darkness of the swamp gripping them. The words that should have been spoken hung in the air, almost visible, like they could be plucked down and understood. But they knew each other … they both knew what should be spoken and they both knew the words would remain unsaid. It was as if the dark waters of the swamp were swallowing them, dragging them down to the bottom of the mucky water only to spit them back out. They sat exhausted, though neither moved nor spoke.

  Finally, Hick said, “I really hope you and Matt are happy together.”

  She stood and looked down at him, her eyes unable to conceal the sadness. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  She hesitated, waiting—hoping—he thought. Then, she left him sitting beside the slough, the sun barely peeping above the tops of the trees.

  He sat there all day. He didn’t know whether there was a fish on the line because he never checked it, and he forgot and left it sitting in the water when he finally left. He didn’t remember the car ride home and wasn’t sure how he made it there.

  Unhappily, he saw the doctor’s car in the driveway. He
shut the door and walked to the house in a hollow, empty daze.

  “Hick?”

  He blinked. “Hi, Doc,” he said in a strained, tired voice.

  The doctor sat on the porch swing. “I’ve got news,” he said in a voice that sounded as tired as Hick’s.

  Hick sat heavily beside him on the porch swing. “What is it?”

  “I was checking my files and I came across a notation from last fall. I saw a female patient in my office and gave her some salt pills. Seems she was dehydrated and her mama brought her in.”

  Hick was tired and the doctor’s words were not registering in his mind. “I don’t follow you,” he mumbled.

  “Dehydration can be caused from frequent vomiting. There was no explanation for the girl’s dehydration at the time. She had no fever, and her mother said she didn’t have diarrhea. It was odd. Now that I think on it, could be the girl had morning sickness. A lot of pregnant women get dehydrated.”

  Understanding crept into Hick’s mind. “Well? Who was it?”

  The doctor shuffled his feet nervously. He was wringing his hands, when he muttered, “It was Iva Lee Stanton.”

  13

  “Dammit, I don’t like this at all,” Hick told Dr. Prescott as they rode together toward the Stanton farm.

  “I don’t relish it, either.”

  “Bill Stanton will have your head if you’re wrong.”

  “I know that,” Jake replied. “But I need to look in that barn.”

  “Why?”

  “Iva Lee’s grown up on a farm. She’s seen babies born there all her life. Where else would she go if she were to have one?”

  Hick said nothing in reply, but stared out the window at the rows of cotton growing in the sunshine, an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. A honeybee splattered against the windshield, leaving a yellow streak of pollen. In the distance, a tractor kicked up a cloud of dirt.

  The car tires ground to a stop on the gravel driveway. Hick paused in front of the place. It was a tidy house, Bill and Rose had raised a good-sized family and Iva Lee, the youngest, was now the only child left at home. Hogs and chickens shared a large fenced yard with the remains of melons and eggshells scattered about. Several buildings were situated in the back, their darkened wood green from mold and moisture.

  They climbed the porch and knocked. Rose Stanton came to the door with a smile. “Why Dr. Prescott, Sheriff Blackburn. What a surprise. Please, do come in. Can I get you some iced tea? Coffee?”

  Hick removed his hat. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but the doctor and me wanted to know if we could just take a look at your barn.”

  The smile faded. “What would you want to do that for?”

  “Just routine. I’m in the middle of an investigation and there might be evidence there.”

  She appeared to be shocked and uncertain. “Why, I don’t know … I guess it would be okay.”

  “I ain’t got a warrant,” Hick told her. “If you don’t want us in there, you don’t have to let us.”

  “Honestly, Sheriff,” she said in surprise. “I don’t know what you think you’ll find, but I got no reason to keep you out.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. We won’t be but a minute.”

  Hick and the doctor made their way across the dusty drive and into the barn. It was hot and dark, it smelled of hogs and mildewed hay, and wasps buzzed in the darkened corners by the rafters. The windows were dirty and smudged and let in little light, so Hick lit a lantern he found hanging on a hook. He turned to the doctor, but Jake was already gone, flashlight in hand, looking around in the back of the barn.

  “Doc, you’re wrong about this,” Hick told him. “She’s just a child, she—”

  “Bring that lantern over here,” the doctor said interrupting him.

  Hick walked over and saw the doctor bending down and examining something. He held the lantern up, illuminating an old cow stall. It was spattered with dried, brown blood stains. There were two brown handprints on the wall, where evidently someone had used it for support in order to stand. The doctor pointed at a mass that almost looked like cow dung, dark and dried. “That is a human placenta,” he told Hick.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, it’s definitely human. Dammit,” he said wiping his neck with a handkerchief. “I was right and I wish to God I wasn’t.”

  At that moment, Bill Stanton entered the barn. “Sheriff? Doc? Is there something I can help you with? My wife told me you were out here.”

  Hick pinched the bridge of his nose, his head bent so low his chin almost touched his chest. He took a deep breath. “Bill, we’re gonna need to ask you a few questions.”

  Bill’s face was puzzled. “Sure, Sheriff. What can I do for you?”

  “Why don’t you sit down,” Hick said, indicating a hay bale.

  The blood drained from Bill Stanton’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Bill, we believe Iva Lee had a baby in this barn a couple of months ago. Do you know anything about that?” Dr. Prescott asked.

  Bill’s face paled, then grew red with anger. “What the hell are you saying? Iva Lee’s just a baby. You goddamned son of a bitch!” He rose angrily and Hick put his hand on Bill’s shoulder and pushed him back onto the hay bale.

  “Stop it, Bill, and listen,” Hick ordered.

  Bill breathed heavily, his face purple with rage, his eyes snapping with fury. “You’d better not come around here accusing my baby of something without proof. If she had one, where is it now? How could she have a baby and me and the wife not know it? Where’s she keeping it? Tell me!”

  Hick and the doctor led Bill to the stall. His eyes grew round when he saw the blood and afterbirth. “I … I don’t clean back here anymore. We ain’t got cows, so I ain’t been back—” He was visibly shaken. “It’s not possible….”

  “Bill, we need to talk to Iva Lee.”

  Bill’s bewildered eyes met Hick’s. “Yes,” he said as if he were in a daze. “I’ll get her.”

  Moments later Bill, Rose and Iva Lee came to the barn. Bill and his wife sat on a bale of hay and Hick gently took Iva Lee by the hand and led her to another hay bale. “Iva Lee, do you remember when I saw you at the slough a few days ago? Were you looking for someone … or something?”

  Iva Lee’s face tightened. Her eyes narrowed and her lips were pursed. “I was looking for my baby.”

  “Can you tell me where the baby came from?”

  “She was mine.”

  “Did you buy her at the store?”

  “No, Sheriff, not that kind of baby. It was a real baby. I made her myself … here.” She pointed to her stomach and Mrs. Stanton gasped and bit her lower lip, tears forming in her eyes.

  Hick’s hands shook. He rubbed his face with them. “Iva Lee, did you make that baby all by yourself?”

  She smiled. “No. He helped me.”

  “Who?”

  She blushed. “My boyfriend.”

  “You have a boyfriend?”

  The smile faded and the pout returned. “I did have a boyfriend. He don’t come around no more.”

  “What was his name?”

  Iva Lee put her finger in her mouth. “I dunno.”

  “You don’t know his name?”

  “No.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “He is tall and handsome. I love him.”

  Bill Stanton rose from the hay bale. “I’ll kill the bastard!”

  Iva Lee’s eyes widened as she looked at her father. “But I love him, Daddy.”

  “Love him. When I find him—” His wife touched his arm gently and he sank back down.

  “Iva Lee, when did you first see your boyfriend?”

  Her eyes grew blank, a particularly disagreeable sight and she seemed to be trying to pull the shreds of her mind together. She sucked on her finger and finally, a light seemed to come on. “The first time I seen my sweetheart, I was walking by the train tracks.”

  “She’s always sneaking off, Sheriff,” Mrs. Stanton ap
ologized. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Hick nodded to her and turned his attention back to Iva Lee. She told him, “It was nighttime and it was hot. I had just took a swim and was walking home. He was driving and asked me if I was supposed to be out all alone at night. I told him I was swimming and he brought me almost all the way home.”

  Hick shuddered. “And did he, did he touch you … on your body?”

  “No, Sheriff. He just give me a ride.”

  “But you saw him again.”

  “I seen him a lot after that. He was always bringing me candy and such. We’d just talk or laugh. We’d go for rides in his car. He was right nice.”

  Hick wrote, the words barely legible from the shaking of his hands. His stomach flopped, listening to Iva Lee talk about this man. He had to know what she was … he had to know her brain wasn’t right.

  She picked at a thread that hung from the loose work dress she was wearing. It came off and she wrapped it around the tip of her finger tightly, making it turn red and then purple. Then, she chewed on the swollen end. “Do you know what happened to him, Sheriff?”

  “No, Iva Lee,” Hick answered unable to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”

  She frowned. “I miss him. I could talk to him real easy. He laughed at me ‘cause he said I didn’t have a care in the world. It’s nice … I never worry about anything.” She bit one of her fingernails and spit it across the barn.

  “And when did you—” Hick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “When did you and him make your baby.”

  “I don’t know. We did that—” she smiled a small smile “—you know, a lot of times. Not at first and he didn’t want to. But, Sheriff, I am a woman. I know my brain ain’t right, I know everyone treats me like a child, but he treated me like a woman. He didn’t want to, but I—” Her eyes turned downward. “I made him.”

  “Made him,” her father repeated angrily beginning to rise again.

  Hick glanced at him and then back to Iva Lee. “Did he take the baby?”