These Things Hidden (21 page)

I
don’t know what I was expecting from my first meeting with Brynn, but it went okay, I think. She didn’t run away, she didn’t yell and scream at me. Brynn seems different from how I remember her. Harder, angrier. Not that I blame her—she has every reason to be angry. There’s something else, though. Something in the way she was tearing her napkin into tiny bits and then started in on mine. She kept looking over her shoulder nervously and every so often she would tilt her head to the side, as if someone was whispering in her ear. I think about calling our grandma to see what she thinks, but maybe I’m overreacting. I can’t claim to know Brynn anymore. I haven’t seen her in five years and people change. God knows, I have. I’ll see how she is tomorrow when she comes to meet Joshua and Claire.

I know I have to take it slow with Brynn, but I think things are going to be okay. A new beginning, a new start. This is just what we need. We have the rest of our lives to become friends again. To become sisters.

T
he falling leaves, muted yellows, reds and browns, are being whipped around by a brisk gust of wind, illuminated by the streetlamps. It is unusually cold for September. The roads are shiny with moisture and the heavy, gray clouds are threatening rain again. Claire doubts there will be any more shoppers this evening. Even though the store is normally open until nine, she considers closing the shop an hour earlier. Joshua is playing with his Legos in the children’s section with the promise that he will pick them up quickly if a customer comes in. Claire watches Allison and Brynn, their heads bent closely together, whispering as Allison pulls sections of books from the shelves and polishes the wood with scented oil that fills the store with a pleasant lemony smell. “Feel free to leave for the night, Allison,”
Claire encourages, but Allison insists on finishing out her shift.

“We’re going out for coffee after I’m done. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up then,” she tells Claire, grinning broadly. Since her sister’s arrival, Allison is like a new girl. Her anxiousness, so prevalent the past several days, seems to have melted away. Claire is pleased for Allison, despite the fact that she senses things aren’t completely right between the sisters. Allison is trying too hard to please Brynn, who is aloof, distracted and seems to want to be anywhere but here.

Claire feels a pang of homesickness for her own sister. She hasn’t talked to her in a while and decides to give her a call to do some catching up at home tonight. Claire’s mind swirls around the thought of a brother or sister for Joshua. She has such happy memories of growing up with her sister, of having someone to share secrets with, of being secure in the thought that her sister would always be there for her if she needed anything. At one time, she and Jonathan danced around the idea of adopting again. Seeing Allison and her obvious joy in being with her sister, and seeing some of the loneliness Joshua has in not having a sibling, makes her think she needs to broach the subject again.

Claire hears the bell above the entrance jingle and out of the corner of her eye sees a girl walk into the store
hesitantly, as if crossing the threshold is a momentous decision. It takes her a moment to recognize that it is Charm Tullia. Her brown hair, damp from the mist, is pulled up in a messy ponytail and her face is pale with worry. She is dressed up and wearing high heels. She pulls her blue jacket more tightly around herself as if the air within the store is colder than the air outside.

“Hi, Charm,” Claire says. “How are you? I heard about Gus. Was the funeral today? I’m so sorry….”

Charm nods and cranes her neck, looking around the store as if searching for someone.

She walks slowly forward, still scanning the store. “Does a girl named Allison Glenn work here?” she asks, her voice low and hoarse.

“She does. She’s in the back right now.” Claire studies Charm’s face. “Charm, are you okay? You don’t look like you feel well,” she says with concern.

“I’m fine,” Charm responds offhandedly. “Do you think I could speak with her for a minute? It won’t take long.”

“Sure,” Claire says in confusion. “I didn’t realize that you know Allison. Did you go to school together?”

Biting her lip, Charm hesitates before speaking. “Allison and I had a … friend in common. I heard she worked here. I just wanted to get in touch with her.” Behind her, Claire hears footsteps and laughter. Before
she can turn around, both Allison and Brynn stop abruptly.

“Allison, there’s someone here to see you,” Claire says, instantly realizing this isn’t a happy reunion. As her eyes flick back and forth between the girls, she can see that all three look stunned. Allison puts a protective arm around her sister, who looks taken aback.

“Allison?” Charm says, licking her lips. “Could we talk for a minute?”

Allison looks around, her eyes darting from Charm to Brynn to the children’s section where Joshua is still playing. Claire can’t identify exactly what she sees momentarily skitter across her face. Panic? Fear? Maybe both. Brynn just looks like she wants to run away.

“Allison?” Claire questions. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding, her chin bobbing up and down too quickly. “Just surprised. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

Claire looks questioningly to Charm and she responds with a brief smile. “It’s okay, Claire.”

“Okay,” Claire says, unconvinced. “I’ll just go in back with Joshua and let you all talk. Brynn, do you want to come?” Brynn whispers yes and they move to where Joshua is still constructing his pirate ship, complete with cannons and planks, out of Legos.

Brynn and Claire settle on the floor next to Joshua, not knowing what to say to each other.

“I think it’s stopped raining. Let’s go outside and talk,” Allison tells Charm.

N
othing good is going to come of this. I can’t believe I’m still here, in Linden Falls, in this bookstore with my sister who I never thought I would see again. Never wanted to see again.

And then there’s Joshua’s mother. She is so clueless. She has no idea who has snaked into her family’s life. What would she do if I told her? What would she say if I piped up and said, “The girl who gave birth to your son is right here. Right here. The girl who drowned her baby. The girl who dumped the baby at the fire station. The girl who watched it all.” I want to feel sorry for Mrs. Kelby, but it’s hard to. I have very little sympathy for parents who turn their heads away from the truth.

Allison hid her pregnancy well. She had the body for it—tall and long-waisted. She carried the extra weight
evenly, not out in front of her like a bowling ball, like most women. My parents were off at some function for my dad’s work when Allison called out to me. Of course, I came running. It wasn’t just the fact that everyone came running when Allison called for them. There was something in her voice, something in the way she called my name, that told me something wasn’t quite right.

But it was the second time she shouted my name when I realized there was something very, very wrong. Her voice was strangled and full of pain. I ran from the kitchen, up the stairs and down the hall to Allison’s bedroom. Her door was flung open and Allison was on her knees, arms stretched out, holding on to the door frame for support. Her head was bent forward, her hair loose around her face like a veil. She had on her typical baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. The neckline of the sweatshirt was dark with sweat.

“What’s the matter, Allison?” I cried, running to her and falling to my knees. “Oh, my God, are you hurt? Are you hurt?” I asked her desperately. But she did not answer—could not answer—because another spasm of pain seemed to overtake her. She swallowed a moan and pressed her hands so forcefully against the door frame that her arms trembled. After a moment, her chin dropped to her chest and a whimper escaped.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Allison, please tell what’s
wrong.” I stood suddenly. “I’m calling Mom and Dad,” I announced, and tried to step by her to get to her phone.

“No!” Allison said forcefully. With effort she stood, blocking my way. Even in horrible pain she was tough. “No,” she said again. More softly, begging, she said, “Please, Brynn, please help me.” Then she fell into me and I could feel it. The firm roundness at her belly. I flinched at the unexpectedness of it.

“Allison?” I said as I carefully placed my fingers on her stomach again. I helped her pull off her sweatshirt, revealing a tank top and her small, swollen belly.

How could I not have known? How could my parents not have known? They are not stupid people. But they are selfish people. The minute Allison and I weren’t who they wanted us to be, they wanted nothing to do with us. I knew early on that I’d never be what my parents wanted. But Allison. Allison did everything right. Everything. Until she made a stupid mistake. Now it’s like she doesn’t exist to my parents anymore.

If anyone has the right to cut Allison out of my life, it’s me. She pulled me into her lies and secrets and I’ve been drowning in them ever since. Now here I am, getting caught up in the whole mess again. And you know who is going to suffer? Joshua. That little boy will never be the same if Allison and Charm start talking.
But maybe I can protect him—the way my sister never did, the way my parents never did.

“I’m going to see what’s going on,” I tell Mrs. Kelby. “I’ll be right back.” I stand and begin to make my way across the bookstore to the front door. But I’m too late. It’s already happening.

I
lead Charm outside the bookstore. She’s all dressed up, like she came from church, except she looks miserable and pissed off.

“What’s going on?” Charm asks frantically. “Why are you here? I thought you were in jail and now you’re working
here?
Are you crazy?”

“I didn’t know—” I try to explain, but Charm isn’t finished.

“Joshua is with good people. They love him. They take care of him. He’s fine. Why do you want to ruin that for him?”

“I don’t want to ruin anything!” I snap. With effort, I lower my voice. “I didn’t know. I got the job here and I had no idea about Joshua until I saw him come into the bookstore. But the minute I saw him, I knew. He looks
just like Christopher. That’s the last time I saw him—with Christopher!”

“Well, Christopher left Joshua with Gus and me.” Charm is trying not to cry. Her eyes keep darting inside the bookstore window. “We tried to take care of him. But Gus was sick and I was only fifteen,” she chokes, tears flowing freely now.

“He left?” I ask. “Christopher just left you with the baby?”

Charm snorts with impatience. “Listen, you obviously had a relationship with my brother, but you didn’t know him. The minute you drove away, he shoved Joshua at me and Gus and took off.” Charm is breathing heavily and the fine mist that is falling collects with her tears and slides down her face.

For a moment I’m speechless. I don’t know what I expected, but I had thought Christopher loved me. I was the one who broke up with him. I guess I believed he would accept anything I offered him. Especially a piece of me. A piece of him.

“I don’t want to disrupt Joshua’s life. I see what good parents Claire and Jonathan are. I don’t want them to know who I am. I just needed to know what happened,” I try to explain.

“Now you know. Christopher didn’t want him.” Charm is struggling to continue and I look over my shoulder, worried that Claire is going to come out here.
“Gus and I tried to take care of him, we really did. But we couldn’t. After Christopher left and we heard about how you were arrested, I dropped him off at the fire station. Claire and Jonathan were the ones who adopted him. They’ve been good pa …” Charm trails off, looking past my shoulder. “Oh, my God,” she whispers.

I turn to look, and see a man and a woman walking toward us. The woman moves with purposeful steps, the man trying to keep up with her. “Oh, my God,” Charm says again. “You need to get out of here!”

“Charm, I need to talk to you,” the woman calls. She is holding something in her hand, waving it high above her head. The tap of her heels punctuates each word.

Charm’s eyes widen. She stumbles backward and bumps into the brick face of the bookstore. “Get out of here,” she whispers to me, but all I can do is just stand here and watch.

A
s I move toward the door, I see Allison and Charm arguing. Charm looks angry, but I have no doubt that Allison can hold her own in an argument. Allison can be pretty intimidating.

“Brynn, you need to help me,” she kept saying over and over that night, crying and clutching at my wrist. “Please, you
have
to help me.”

“Do Mom and Dad know?” I asked her as I helped her to the bed. She shook her head, turned to her side and curled up into a ball as if trying to disintegrate into herself. I quickly moved to slam the bedroom door closed, wanting to shut Allison’s secret in the room with us.

“Let me think,” I said, standing above her. “Let me think.” I surveyed the room around me. The sheets
on her bed were damp and bloodied in spots. “Listen, Allison,” I told her. “We need to call someone. Let me call an ambulance.” I reached for the cell phone on the bedside table. A website describing the process of childbirth was on Allison’s computer. This wasn’t the kind of test one could cram for, I thought.

“No!” Allison growled. Her long, strong arm shot out and grabbed the phone before I could. “No, don’t call anyone. Please, I can do this. Please, Brynn, please help me!” Another convulsion racked Allison and she groaned, but all the while she held tight to the phone. She didn’t want me calling anyone.

I sat down next to her and brushed her hair away from her sweaty forehead. “Why?” I asked in confusion.

“I screwed up,” Allison said breathlessly after the contraction had passed. “I slept with him. I slept with him and I got pregnant!” she said fiercely.

“Who? Who was it, Allison?” I asked.

“Christopher,” she moaned.

“Christopher who?” I asked. She didn’t answer. “It’s okay. This happens to lots of girls. You can give the baby up for adoption, it will be okay.” I tried to make my voice soothing and reassuring, but even I didn’t believe what I told her.

“What do you think Mom’s going to do when she finds out?” Allison spat.

“She’ll be mad, but she’ll get over it. She’ll help you find a good home—”

“She will not get over it!” I reared back at Allison’s bitterness. “She’ll try to fix it. She’ll want to raise the baby as her own or something, or she’ll make me raise it. I’ll be stuck in this god-awful town forever! She will make my life miserable!” Each word became more and more hysterical until she was sitting up and her nose was touching mine. “We have to get rid of it!”

“Okay, okay,” I tried to placate her. “Just tell me what to do.”

Allison must have been in labor for hours before she called out for me. She must have been hidden away in her room while Mom and Dad were scurrying around getting ready for their dinner party. My mother had even barged into Allison’s room without knocking before they left and told her that there was money on the kitchen table to order a pizza for supper, to make sure the doors to the house were locked because they would be home very late, and no friends were allowed to come over because they wouldn’t be home.

Fifteen minutes after I discovered Allison in labor, she was ready to push. I have never seen my sister look so tired, so defeated. Her hair lay in sweaty clumps around her pale face and she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She held weakly on to my hand, her legs trembling. “Alli, let me call the doctor,” I begged. “I’m scared.” But she
said no, that we could do this. That she needed me. No one else.

I had wanted to hear that from her my whole life. My beautiful, mighty, independent big sister finally needed me, the sister in the shadows.

“Please, Brynn,” she whispered through cracked, dried lips. “Please,” she whimpered. And that was the only word I needed to thrust me into action. I began to gather all the items I imagined would be necessary for the birth of a child: clean towels and sheets, cool, damp washcloths, rubbing alcohol, scissors, garbage bags. When I returned to Allison’s bedroom she was sitting up, clutching her knees, her chin tucked into her neck. “I’ve got to push!” she cried. “I’ve got to push!”

I dropped the armload of linens that I was carrying and stumbled to her side. “Let’s get your sweatpants off, Alli,” I told her gently.

“No!” she cried. “No, I don’t want it to come, Brynn. Please,” she sobbed, looking desperately up at me. “I don’t want it—make it stop, make it stop!” The sound that came from my sister was mournful—a keening wail so primal, from a place so hidden, so old, that I imagined only women in the midst of childbirth could open it. I peeled her wet, shit-filled underwear and pants from her sweat-slicked legs and turned on the ceiling fan. I cleaned the filth from her as thoroughly as I could and wiped her legs with a washcloth drenched in rubbing
alcohol. The fan circulated the stale, copper-scented air and goose bumps erupted on Allison’s skin. The cool wafting air seemed to revitalize her for a moment. She bore down, clutching the bedsheets with white-knuckled fingers. Her frantic eyes met my own and I took her face in my hands. Taking charge.

I feel Claire come up behind me and through the window we see a man and woman coming down the block toward Allison and Charm. The man is fiftyish, a bandanna is wrapped around his forehead and he is wearing a leather jacket with an eagle embroidered on the sleeve. The woman is dressed improperly for the weather outside, wearing a skimpy black dress and stilettos. She’s clutching something in her hand.

Hearing the shouts from outside, Joshua and the dog quickly join us. “What’s going on?” Joshua asks nervously.

“Nothing good,” I mutter, and my stomach twists into knots. That poor little boy, I think. Who’s going to save him from his own past?