These Things Hidden (20 page)

A
s I pack my things for my trip to see my father—to see Allison—I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. I finally got hold of my mother and she sounded terrible, not like my mother at all—unsure of herself, uncertain what to do next. It wasn’t until I suggested that Grandma should come back to Linden Falls with me that my old mother emerged.

“That woman is not welcome here,” she said coldly.

“Mom, he’s her son …” I tried to explain, but gave up. My grandmother once made the mistake of questioning my mother’s love for my father and since then has been banned from my parents’ house.

I hate the thought of going back home. I try to come up with excuses to stay here. I’ll miss at least two days of classes and then there are my pets to care for.

“Go,” my grandma tells me. “You go and get the inside scoop on your father and let me know if I need to elbow my way into that hospital, whether your mother likes it or not. I can take care of that mangy mutt and those flea-bitten cats. Don’t ask me to do anything but feed and water that rodent and bird, though,” she jokes. “I’m not touching them.”

Before I leave, I give her a hug. Getting out of New Amery might actually be a good idea. Missy still won’t have anything to do with me. I can hear the whispers and see how people look me up and down now. Once again I’m the girl with a murderer for a sister. I’m not sleeping and most nights I find myself standing in front of the refrigerator, staring at the cupboard above and debating the merits of a quick slug of alcohol before bed.

“Maybe I should bring Milo with me,” I say. “He’s not used to me being away.”

“Bah,” she says. “We’ll be fine. They’re good company for me. We’ll miss you, but it’s good that you’re going to see Allison. Clear the air, start fresh.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Grandma. I’ll be home by Sunday, for sure,” I tell her, and kiss her on the cheek.

“Don’t forget your medicine,” she reminds me.

I give Milo one last squeeze before I head out the door.

The closer I get to Linden Falls, the harder my heart beats. The Druid River runs parallel to the highway. As
I speed along I see the baby girl’s body rushing down the river, keeping pace with my car, trying to catch me. I push the accelerator to the floor, trying to outrun the image. I know it isn’t possible. That fisherman found her little body and my parents had her taken care of, even though I don’t know what that means. There was no funeral, no burial. What did they do with her? I want to ask them, but we never talk about it, or Allison or anything. I hope wherever that baby is, she is warm and dry.

I hear the wail of a siren and see a police car, lights flashing, in my rearview mirror. I glance down at the speedometer. Seventy-five in a fifty-five miles per hour zone. Great. I slow down and pull over to the side of the road. The policeman isn’t going to make this easy for me. He takes my license and walks slowly back to his car. I pray he doesn’t search my car. I swiped an old pill bottle filled with hydrocodone my grandmother had leftover from her knee replacement surgery that’s in my purse and have a half-filled bottle of peach schnapps stowed beneath my seat. I just wanted to make sure I had a little something to help me sleep while I’m here. I wait nervously for the patrolman to return. When he finally does, he says, “Brynn Glenn.”

“Yes?” I answer.

“I was one of the first officers on the scene when they found that baby in the river a few years back.” I
look down at my hands and don’t speak. “I’ve buried my wife, I’ve seen men and children die in war—even had to shoot a man once—but I’ve never seen anything as sad and lonely looking as that poor baby knocking up against the creek bed.” His voice isn’t angry, not even judgmental, and for a moment I think we might have something in common.

I want to say,
I know. I know how you feel.
I want to take his hand in mine and ask,
Do you see her at night when you close your eyes? Does she cry out to you in your dreams and sometimes when you’re awake, even? Do people stare and look at you strangely because sometimes you think of her and you can’t do anything but stand there and cry over a little girl who didn’t even have a name? Do you ever wonder how your life might have been different if you weren’t in Linden Falls that night?

Before I can say any of these things, the officer leans forward into my lowered window, putting his face so close to mine that I can see his eyes are the color of a husky’s, ice-blue. “I hear she got out of prison, your sister. She’s a sick bitch. It’s a wonder she didn’t kill herself for what she did. Don’t know how she can live with herself.” He hands me my license and a speeding ticket for two hundred dollars and walks away without a backward glance.

I hate this town. If it weren’t for my father, I would never have even considered returning. I’ll see my father and mother. I’ll face Allison. Then I’ll be done with them all.

B
rynn and I decide to meet at a restaurant that is within walking distance of Gertrude House. I get there twenty minutes before our scheduled meeting time, order a cup of coffee and try to read a book Claire lent to me while I wait for Brynn to arrive. The words sit on the pages and I can make no sense of them. All I can think about is whether or not Brynn will show up. I don’t hear her approach the table until her unmistakable voice says, “Allison?”

I look up at my sister and she looks just the same as I remember. Small, with dark, unruly hair. She is dressed plainly, all in black. Dark eye shadow lines her eyes and stands out in stark contrast to her pale skin. She is biting her lip and looking down at me uncertainly.

“Brynn,” I say, standing. I reach out to hug her. She is
too skinny and I can feel the contour of her bones, thin and hollow like a bird’s. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you for coming,” I say formally. I have to remind myself that this is Brynn. Just Brynn.

She doesn’t answer. Pulling away from me, she settles into the booth across from where I was sitting. I sit back down and am suddenly lost for words. Thankfully, a waitress comes to take Brynn’s drink order. “Tea, please. Decaffeinated, if possible,” she requests. To me she explains, “Caffeine keeps me awake.”

“Would you like to order anything to eat?” I ask her. “My treat.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” she says, her eyes skittering nervously around the restaurant, landing everywhere but on me.

“I’m nervous,” I admit to her with a little laugh. “Now that you’re here, I don’t know what to say. I have so much that I
want
to say, but I don’t know how to.”

“That’s a first,” Brynn says, picking up her napkin. “You not knowing what to do.” There is no anger or meanness in her voice, but still her words hurt me.

“Have you seen Dad yet?” I ask her.

She nods. “He looks terrible, but the doctor says he should be okay.” We sit for several moments in silence. Brynn looks like she can’t wait to get out of here.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m really sorry.”

“You’ve already told me that,” she says matter-of-factly, and begins to shred her napkin into thin strips.

“I’ve written it in letters to you, told you on the phone, but I’ve never told you to your face.” Brynn continues to tear the napkin until it looks like confetti. “Brynn, please look at me.” I lean as far as I can across the table. She lifts her chin and gazes levelly at me, her eyes hard and unemotional. “Brynn, I am so sorry I put you in the position I did. I knew better. I made a stupid mistake and I dragged you into it. I know it doesn’t mean much after all that’s happened, but you helped me, you really did. I would have never been able to—”

I stop speaking. Brynn’s face has gone rigid. She isn’t ready to talk about the specifics of that night. “Well, anyway, I’m sorry and I’m glad you’re here,” I finish. “Tell me about your classes. I want to hear all about them.”

“I better get home before Mom starts worrying about me,” Brynn says, looking at her watch.

“You’re staying at the house?” I ask, not quite able to keep the hurt from my voice. “Mom said you could stay there?”

“What choice did she have?” Brynn snorts, sliding out from the booth. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m just staying until tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Grandma’s.”

“Already?” I ask in surprise. “You just got here.”

“I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.” She has dark circles under her eyes and she keeps trying to hide her yawns behind her hand.

I drop some bills on the tabletop and Brynn and I move out into the chilly night.

“So are you going to tell me about him?” she asks abruptly. “That’s why I’m here, aren’t I? You could care less about Dad. You just wanted me here because you found the little boy.”

“That’s not fair,” I say indignantly. “I’m very worried about Dad.”

“Come off it, Allison,” Brynn snaps angrily. “You can’t stand that I’m going to stay at Mom and Dad’s and you’re stuck at some halfway house. You can’t stand that I’m the one doing well, the one that Mom and Dad are proud of now….”

“Proud of you? Mom and Dad have erased you. Just like they erased me. Have you even been at the house yet?” Brynn’s face crumples. I know I should stop talking, but I can’t. “They removed every picture of you. Not just the pictures of me, Brynn. You, too.”

“Whatever,” Brynn says halfheartedly, and I know I’ve hurt her feelings.

“I’m sorry, Brynn.” I reach out for her sleeve to stop her from leaving and she jerks away from me, but not before I get a glimpse of the red scratches up and down her arm.

“You’re sorry?” she cries in disbelief. “Do you know what I see each and every time I close my eyes at night?”

“Brynn,” I say miserably. “I know. I see her, too.”

“No,” Brynn says in a low, chilling voice. “I don’t think you do. And now you want me to meet that little boy? Her brother? You want me to relive this all over again?” Brynn shakes her head wildly.

“I wanted … I thought …” I say lamely. “I wanted to tell you about Joshua. Show him to you.”

“What do you think you’re going to do?” she asks sharply as we walk down the darkened street toward her car.

“I thought maybe you would help me decide what I should do,” I say self-consciously.

“Think about it, Allison,” she says, stopping suddenly. “There is really only one thing you can do.”

I raise my eyebrows at the force of her words, her certainty. Brynn
has
changed. She wasn’t the indecisive girl I left behind five years ago. “I’m glad you know what I should do, Brynn, because I sure don’t.”

“Is he happy?” she asks.

“I think he is,” I say. “For the most part.”

“Are his parents good to him? Is he safe?”

“They seem like great parents,” I tell her.

“Then what’s the big mystery, Allison?” She pulls her car keys out of the pocket of her jacket. “He happy, he’s
safe and he has great parents. Why would you want to mess that up for him?”

“I don’t,” I say defensively. “I don’t want to mess anything up. I just don’t know if I should quit my job or what.”

“Or what, Allison? Stay in his life? What good can come out of that?” Brynn turns to face me, her hands on her hips. “Actually, I think it’s kind of selfish.”

“Selfish?” I shake my head in disbelief. “I may be lots of things, Brynn, but how can you say I’m selfish? Haven’t I done everything humanly possible to try and make things right with you?” My voice is rising and people are stealing glances at us as they pass. I lower my voice to a whisper. “It makes me feel better, knowing where he ended up. Don’t you want to see him? Aren’t you even a little bit curious about how things turned out?” Brynn doesn’t look convinced. “Just take a look at him. Stop by the store tomorrow sometime in the afternoon or evening. He’ll be there. It will make you feel better, too. I promise.”

Brynn looks at me for a long moment. “I’ll stop by the store and meet him, Allison. But that’s all. I don’t want to get caught up in anything again.”

“Thanks.” I consider hugging her again, but think better of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and thanks for coming.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see if it was a good idea.” She turns to leave.

When did she become so cold? Was this what life had done to her? What I had done to her?

“Do you remember Mousie?” I call after her, and she stops, her back to me.

She is still for several moments and then turns around. “Yeah,” Brynn says, “I remember Mousie.”

I
do remember. So stupid when I look back, but Mousie was the closest thing to a pet that I ever had when I lived at home. Our father traveled often for business and would bring home travel-size bottles of shampoo and lotion and small, thin bars of soap. I must have been four when I looked at that bar of soap my father brought home in a different way. I started carrying it around in my pocket and pretended to feed him pieces of cheese. I named him Mousie and he went everywhere with me. I slept with him at night and kept him near me while I played during the day. My mother would just roll her eyes and tell me to get the bar of soap off the dinner table and my father would give a sinister laugh and say he needed a shower.

Allison, who was five, was the only one who took my
attachment to Mousie seriously. She helped me make a bed for him out of a shoe box and helped me decorate the sides with pictures of mice and slices of cheese. Whenever Dad pretended to try and swipe Mousie from me for his shower, she would block his way and yell at him to stay away.

As we grew older, Allison became the golden girl, the girl who did everything well, the girl who didn’t have time for her plain little sister anymore. I’m surprised that Allison remembers Mousie, surprised that she is still trying so hard to get back into my life. Maybe Allison has changed. Maybe she asked me to come here for the right reasons. Maybe things will be okay.

Then I think about that little boy I’m going to meet tomorrow at the bookstore, and I think about his little sister, and I get that itchy feeling underneath my skin again. The one I can’t scratch away. I hear her crying and I start to hum to block out the sound, but people stare. So I get in my car and drive away.