P. Parrish - An Unquiet Grave

The wood floor creaked as they made their way to a room in the back of the house. The sun streamed in from a wall of windows falling on old white wicker furniture softened with blue cushions.

She was sitting at a table in the corner. Her head was down as she shuffled cards and the sun fell on her long pale hair.

“Claudia, your brother’s here,” Enid said, going forward.

Her head came up and Louis saw her face.

He knew she was in her fifties now, and those years were there in the lines in her face, the softening of her jaw, and the silvery streaks in her hair. Other things were there, too, in the faraway gaze of her eyes and the odd, broken-bird angle at which she held her head. But then her eyes found Rodney and she smiled and suddenly Louis saw everything that Phillip had seen thirty-five years ago.

Rodney went to her and bent to kiss her cheek.

“Did you bring me cherries?” she asked.

“I told you, Claudie, they’re not in season yet. Soon,” Rodney said gently.

“Ah. . winter. I forgot,” she said.

Rodney turned and gestured to Louis. “I’ve brought a friend.”

Caramel-brown eyes. “Hello,” she said.

Louis came forward. “Hello, Claudia. I’m Louis.”

“Are you a friend of my brother?” she asked. Her love for Rodney was there in every part of her face.

“Yes,” Louis said. He nodded toward the chair opposite her. “Can I sit down?”

“Only if you let me win.” She smiled up at Enid, who was hovering near the windows.

“Be careful. She cheats,” Enid said.

Louis sat down. Claudia starting dealing the cards. Her moves were deliberate and slow. Louis picked up his five cards.

“You forgot to ante,” Claudia said.

“Sorry.” Louis moved a shell to the middle of the wicker table.

Claudia fanned her cards and looked over at Louis. “Go ahead,” she said.

Louis didn’t even look at his cards before he moved two shells to the center. Claudia did the same and looked at him expectantly.

“How many?”

“What?”

“Cards,” she said eagerly.

“Oh. . two,” Louis said, setting two cards down. He picked up the new cards she dealt.

“I’ll take five,” she said. She took five cards but didn’t lay any down.

“Claudia, can I ask you some questions?” Louis began.

She nodded, intent on trying to fan all the cards.

“I have a friend who knows you,” Louis said. “Do you remember someone named Phillip?”

She looked up. “Phillip,” she said softly.

“Do you remember him?”

A cloud passed over her face. “Gold leaves,” she said.

Louis glanced over at Rodney, who lowered his head.

“Gold leaves. . silver ring,” Claudia said. “Phillip gave me a silver ring.” She looked up at Enid. “What happened to that ring?”

“I don’t know, dear,” Enid said.

Claudia’s gaze drifted to the window. Louis wasn’t going to press it, but suddenly Claudia began to hum. Then the words came and she sang softly.

“A boy and girl, they can kiss good-bye,

and run down the hillside together.

But a man and woman, their hearts can cry

forever and ever

Though oceans may sever.

True be my true love. .”

She smiled at Louis. “We danced.”

Louis nodded. “I know. Phillip told me.”

“Phillip is here?”

“No,” Louis said. “Would you like to see him sometime?”

“Oh yes.”

Louis looked up at Rodney. He had his eyes shut. Enid was watching Claudia carefully. When Louis looked back at Claudia, her eyes had gone blank. Then she went back to arranging the cards. Her hands were small and she was having trouble holding all the cards. Louis caught a glimpse of a white scar on her left wrist.

“I think it was your turn,” Claudia said.

Louis pushed two more shells to the middle of the table. She did the same.

“You’re supposed to lay your cards down now,” she said.

Louis fanned them out. He had a pair of jacks.

Claudia smiled and set her ten cards down. “Two pair,” she said. She gathered in the shells.

“Claudia, do you remember a baby?” Louis asked.

“Baby?” She was picking up the cards and didn’t look up.

“Yes. You went to the hospital. Do you remember a baby?”

Her expression was suddenly harder, but Louis couldn’t tell if it was from a memory or because she was concentrating on shuffling the cards.

“I heard it crying,” she said, her delicate fingers struggling with the cards. “The baby was crying. I heard it but I never saw it.”

Her eyes shot up to Louis. “They took it away. Where is the baby?”

Louis hesitated. “Someone is loving it,” he said.

She nodded slowly.

Enid was hovering and Louis motioned her back with his eyes.

Claudia let the cards fall to the table. She covered her face with her hands. “The second one hurt,” she whispered.

“What?” Louis said.

“The baby. The second one hurt so bad.”

Louis heard the sharp intake of Rodney’s breath, but he kept his eyes locked on Claudia.

“Claudia,” Louis said gently, “do you remember being in the hospital?”

Her hands remained on her face but she nodded.

“Do you remember anything that happened to you there?”

“A dark room,” Claudia said. “And a doctor with hands like ice.”

Seraphin, Louis thought. “Do you remember a man?” he pressed.

“That’s enough,” Rodney said, stepping forward.

Claudia’s hands fell. Her eyes were dry but anxious. “A man?” She shook her head.

Thank God. Seraphin had doped her up enough so she couldn’t remember Ives. Only Millie carried that nightmare.

Millie. .

“Claudia, do you remember Millie?”

“Millie? Millie? We ran to the apple orchard.” Claudia’s face softened. “Millie was my friend.”

Louis was relieved to see the distress draining from Claudia’s face.

“Would you like to see Millie maybe?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling. Then she looked down, seemingly noticing the cards for the first time. “Do you want to play again?” she asked.

Louis looked up at Rodney. His face was ashen. He turned away. Louis moved a shell to the middle of the table.

“Your deal,” he said.

Claudia’s smile widened and she gathered up the cards. Enid came forward to pick up the ones that had fallen on the floor.

Louis leaned back in his chair, watching Enid’s gentle ministrations. He was watching Claudia, too, wondering how someone could have so much taken away-a lover, a baby, a life-and still endure. He was watching her and thinking about being in the tunnel and listening to that woman scream as she died. He was watching Claudia and thinking how envious he was of the peace he saw in her face.

She was dealing again. This time she gave herself two cards and dealt him ten. She set the rest of the deck in the middle of the table.

“Your move, Louis,” she said.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said.

“It’s easy,” she said. “You hang on to the ones you want to keep and throw away all the rest.”

The caramel-colored eyes held his for a moment. Louis started laying down his cards.

It was late when Phillip returned home from Brighton. Frances had come with him. There had been no chance to talk to him alone until Frances had gone to bed. Louis waited until Phillip went outside for a smoke and followed him.

The moment seemed right. He told him about Claudia.

Phillip listened quietly, then asked one question. When can I see her?

We’ll go first thing tomorrow, Phil.

It had been an emotional morning. Phil had waited until breakfast to tell Frances. Louis slipped off to the living room, wanting to listen, knowing he shouldn’t. But he had watched.