P. Parrish - An Unquiet Grave

“You sent her away because you were afraid she was just like Father,” Rodney said.

Louis could see it in her face, see that Rodney was right, that Eloise DeFoe was ashamed of her own daughter’s mental illness.

Louis turned back to Rodney. “Tell me what happened that night.”

Rodney pulled in a deep breath and sat down in the chair. “Claudia was going to run off with Phillip.” His eyes went to Eloise. “But she found out and locked Claudia up in her room.”

His eyes were locked on his mother. “I should have gone to her,” he whispered. “I heard her crying and screaming, but I just stayed down here like a fucking coward. I stayed down here, sitting right here in this same chair with my drink.”

He was silent for a moment. “I think I passed out. All I remember is it was quiet. The next thing I remember was some strange guy shaking me and telling me Claudia had slit her wrists in the bathtub. I ran outside and she was strapped on this thing and they were putting her in the ambulance and she looked. .” He took in a slow breath. “She looked. .”

Rodney put a hand over his face. The shoulders of the camel coat began to move as he cried.

Louis saw something on the floor by Rodney’s feet. It was the photo of Claudia, crumpled into a wad. He looked back at Rodney, but he couldn’t muster much pity for him. He was a weak man who believed the world turned only in rhythm to his own needs. And even now, it was still about him.

Louis looked back at Eloise. “You were the one who found her and called the police?”

Eloise nodded, her mouth set in a hard line. “I went up to check on her when I realized I hadn’t heard any sound from her room. I went up there, but she wasn’t in her bedroom. I went to her bathroom and that’s where I found her. She had taken a razor blade and cut her wrists.”

Louis looked back at Rodney. He was staring at his mother with anguished eyes.

“Claudia was very ill,” Eloise said. “I couldn’t control her. I had no choice but to send her to Hidden Lake for her own safety.”

“What happened to the baby?” Louis asked.

Eloise just sat there.

“You’re Catholic. You wouldn’t have allowed it to be aborted,” Louis said. “What happened to the baby?”

Eloise didn’t blink as she met his eyes. “I signed adoption papers. I did what was necessary. I don’t know what happened after that.”

“Who arranged it?”

“The hospital.”

“Dr. Seraphin?”

She was quiet. But the answer was there in her face, in the shock that Louis knew the name.

“I think you should leave,” Eloise said.

Louis picked up the crumpled photograph of Claudia and put it in his pocket. He left, pausing outside to dig the car keys out of his jacket. The door opened behind him, but he didn’t turn.

“Wait!”

Louis glanced back. Rodney was coming toward him. Louis ignored him, opening the Impala’s door and getting in. Rodney grabbed the door before Louis could shut it. He looked down at Louis with reddened eyes.

“Tell Phillip I’m sorry,” he said.

Louis jerked the door closed. He started the car, revving the engine, and Rodney stepped away. As Louis headed down Provencal Road, he looked up at the rearview mirror. Rodney was still standing there in the driveway.

“Silent Night” was playing softly, emerging strained and tinny sounding from the old radio and fading away into the shadows of the basement. Louis sat at the bar, a warm beer in front of him. He was waiting for Phillip to get out of the shower and he’d been down here maybe fifteen minutes, sometimes rolling a walnut between his fingers as a way to pass the time. And a way to keep from looking at himself in the mirror.

He had caught a glimpse of himself when he first sat down and hadn’t liked what he had seen. He looked older, and defeated, the shadows in his face hard. Even his eyes were a deeper shade of gray like there was something opaque behind them now.

He heard the water cut off, and the rushing sound in the pipes above his head faded to a drip. He rolled the walnut across the bar, watching it flop end over end until it came to a stop next to the bowl. When he heard Phillip’s footsteps on the stairs, he drew a breath and took a drink.

Phillip wore a red-and-green striped sweater and black slacks, his wet hair slicked back. Louis waited while he grabbed a beer from behind the bar and settled onto a bar stool.

“Are you going to tell me you’re leaving?” Phillip asked.

“No,” Louis said.

Phillip looked down, turned his bottle slowly. “So what is it then?”

“Claudia was pregnant when she was sent to Hidden Lake.”

Phillip said nothing, didn’t move except for a slight slump of his shoulders.

“She had the baby and it was put up for adoption by her mother,” Louis said.

Still Phillip didn’t speak or look up. Louis let the silence lengthen. He picked up the walnut and set it back in the bowl, catching another glimpse of his face in the mirror. Then his eyes moved to Phillip’s face. Phillip’s eyes were closed.

“Rodney knew,” Louis said. “Says he’s sorry.”

Phillip finally looked up. “Sorry?”

Louis nodded.

“He takes my child and he’s sorry?”

Louis again nodded, not knowing what else to say. Phillip drew a breath so deep and hard that Louis could hear it, and it seemed to bring some rigidity back to Phillip’s posture.

“Can we find this child?” Phillip asked.

“I don’t know,” Louis said. “It depends on how it was done. If they left a paperwork trail. If it was even legal.”

“It wasn’t legal. It couldn’t be. I never signed anything.”

“I know. But it’s real easy to cover something like this up. Falsify the mother’s name. Fake a birth certificate. A shady attorney.”

Phillip touched his arm. “Will you try?”

“I don’t know,” Louis said.

Phillip looked away, his mind suddenly on something else, and Louis was grateful he didn’t ask more about finding the child. He wanted to help Phillip, and he knew that if it were his child, he’d want to find it. But there was something else to finish first.

“The child would be thirty-six, Louis,” Phillip said.

“I know.”

“Did you ask if it was a boy or girl?”

“No,” Louis said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Phillip said. “It’s all right.”

Phillip slid off the bar stool and started back up the stairs. Louis watched him, surprised at the sudden change in his face-and his step. It was resolve or acceptance, or maybe a mix of both.

“Phillip,” Louis said, “where are you going?”

“To see Frances,” he said. “This is something I need to talk over with her.”

“Don’t you think it will make her even angrier?”

“I don’t know,” Phillip said. “I just know I need to talk with her.”

“Jesus, Phil,” Louis said, “aren’t you angry?”

“Of course I am,” Phillip said. “But I don’t have to stay that way. You’ve given me something I never thought I’d have. You’ve put everything into focus for me.”

“Wait a minute,” Louis said. “What are you going to tell this kid when you find him or her?”

“I’m going to say ‘I’m your father,’” Phillip said.

“‘And I made a mistake.’”

Phillip disappeared up the steps and Louis turned back to the bar. He didn’t understand how Phillip could be happy about confronting a long-lost, grown-up child when it would be so painful and hard. He didn’t understand how Phillip could ever expect Frances to accept this on top of everything else. And he didn’t understand why Phillip wasn’t furious.

He should be. Not only at Eloise DeFoe and Rodney, but at Seraphin and everything she had done to Claudia.