Heather Gudenkauf - These Things Hidden

“You were a Kelby the first day we saw you,” Jonathan says, sitting down on the couch so that Joshua was squeezed between his parents.

“A Kelby sandwich,” Joshua declares, taking up his favorite game. “I’m the peanut butter. You’re the bread.”

“You’re the liverwurst,” Jonathan corrects him. “The olive loaf, the fried egg with limburger cheese.”

“No.” Joshua laughs. “You’re a turkey and dressing sandwich.”

“Hey, I like turkey and dressing sandwiches,” Jonathan protests.

“Blech.” Joshua sticks out his tongue.

“Blech,” Claire agrees while Jonathan looks at her over Joshua’s head and their eyes lock. They both know what it’s taken to finally get to this point. The infertility, the wrenching loss of their first foster child. The

heartache and the disappointment they have endured. The past is firmly in the past, where it belongs, their gazes say. We have our little boy and that’s all that matters.

Charm Tullia pushes open the door to Bookends, her textbook list in one hand, her cell phone in the other, in case Gus calls. She wants her stepfather to be able to reach her at anytime. She knows the time will come when she will receive the call that informs her that Gus has fallen, has a fever or worse. The rain has stopped, but she carefully wipes her wet feet on the rug inside the entrance of the bookstore.

Claire greets her warmly, as she has ever since the first time Charm came into Bookends several years ago. Claire always asks how her nursing classes are going and how her stepfather is doing.

“He’s not doing very well,” Charm tells her. “The home care nurse says we might want to think about getting hospice involved soon.”

“I’m so sorry,” Claire says with genuine sadness in her voice. Charm lowers her head and begins rummaging through her purse, hiding her eyes that filled with tears at the thought of Gus dying. This is what makes it so hard and so easy for Charm to keep returning to Bookends. Claire Kelby is just so nice.

“Is Joshua here today?” Charm asks, looking around for the little boy.

“You just missed him,” Claire says apologetically. “Jonathan picked him up and took him home.”

“Well, tell him hi for me,” Charm says, trying to mask her disappointment, and slides her textbook list across the countertop toward Claire. “I was able to buy most of my books used through the campus store, except for this one, and it is so expensive,” Charm explains, pointing to a title written on the paper. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I’ll do some checking around,” Claire promises her. “When do you graduate? You must be getting close.”

“In May. I can’t wait,” Charm says with a smile.

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow to let you know what I can find out about your book. You take care of yourself, okay, Charm? And remember, you call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” Charm says again, even though she knows she won’t call her for anything beyond finding the book. As much as Charm admires Claire and her family, as much as she enjoys chatting with her, Charm already knows too much about Claire’s life. If Claire were ever to find out just how much, Charm thinks, she would never see her in the same way again.

After stopping at the grocery store to pick up a few things, Charm drives over the Druid River and into the countryside between Linden Falls and the small town of Cora to check on Gus. Though she doesn’t want to admit it, Gus is getting weaker by the day. As she pulls into the driveway, she examines the small three-bedroom farmhouse she’s lived in since she was ten. Gus has always kept the house in perfect condition and she has to look closely to see any signs of wear and tear, but they are there. The paint on the black shutters is beginning to fade and crack and the white siding needs a good power wash. The lawn is neatly trimmed but not mowed the way Gus would do it, if he were healthy. For a while Charm tried to mow the lawn in the diagonal pattern Gus preferred, but though he never said anything, she could tell the imperfect lines frustrated him. Finally, Charm called a fourteen-year-old neighbor who lives a half-mile down the road to take over lawn duty. But Gus won’t let anyone touch his flower beds. They are still his domain, although with his illness they have suffered for it.

Charm steps from her car, grabs the bags of groceries and walks around to the side entrance. She sees Gus on his knees, his back to her, head bent, and for a moment she thinks he has collapsed. Dropping the grocery bags, she runs toward him. Gus suddenly turns his head as he hears her approach and slowly gets to his feet, shakily lifting his small, portable oxygen tank. “Charm, where were you?” he croaks. “I was worried.” His plaid shirt envelops his thin frame and his khaki pants hang loosely on his hips. He painfully pulls off his gardening gloves and drops them to the ground. He has slicked his thick black hair from his face, and beyond the grayness of his skin and his sunken eyes, Charm can see a glimmer of the handsome man he once was. The man her mother decided to keep around longer than any of her many other boyfriends and actually marry. When Charm was little, she proudly watched the two of them together, her beautiful blonde mother and handsome, funny Gus, the firefighter.

Reanne Tullia was with Gus for four years—a world record for her, Charm thinks. Eventually, her mother got bored playing her part in their happy family, left Gus and then divorced him. Charm was ten when they moved in and fourteen when her mother was ready to move on. Reanne traveled the short distance across the Druid River and went back to live in Linden Falls. Charm went with her for a few weeks, but it was unbearable. In the middle of the night, Charm called Gus and begged him to let her return and he said yes, with no questions. Charm and her brother asked to stay with him and Gus was kind enough to let them.

Now Gus is very sick. Lung cancer, a by-product of his job as a firefighter and years of smoking. Gus took early retirement from the fire department about five years ago, after he got sick. Since his diagnosis, he routinely asks her why she would want to stay with a sick old man. “Because this is my home,” she always tells him. “You are my home.”

“Hey, Gus.” Charm tries to sound casual, not wanting him to know she is worried. “I just went to the bookstore and got some groceries.”

Gus holds her gaze for a long moment, then asks, “How’s that little boy?”

“He wasn’t there, but Claire says he’s doing fine. He starts kindergarten next week. Can you believe it?”

Gus shakes his head. “No, I can’t. I’m glad he’s doing well.”

“I brought you kolache,” Charm says before he can say anything else about Joshua. She hands him the bag of the Czech pastry that he loves so much. “I promise, someday I’ll learn how to make them myself,” she tells him as he reaches for the bag.

“Nah, this is perfect,” he says, though she knows they aren’t. Gus used to make delicious authentic kolache from his grandmother’s recipe. Now, more often than not, he is too weak to stay on his feet for more than ten minutes.

“Your mother called,” Gus’s voice rasps, making him sound older than his fifty years. It’s difficult for Charm to tell whether it’s the cancer or whether he is upset about her mother calling.

Charm and her mother rarely speak. Every once in a while, they try to rebuild their relationship but their encounters usually end in bitter tears and angry words.

“What did she want?” Charm asks glumly.

They walk into the kitchen through the side door and Charm pulls a chair away from the table, its legs scraping noisily against the faded blue-flowered linoleum. Gus lowers himself slowly into the seat. Gus has been wobbly on his feet and she is constantly worried about him falling. Yesterday he tripped on the ridge where the carpet meets the linoleum and took a tumble. Gus bloodied his knees and bruised his elbows in that fall. Charm had to sit him down like he was a three-year-old and clean his scraped knees, covering them with Band-Aids. She knew then that it was time to have a conversation with Gus about getting someone to stay with him during the day while she was at class or at the hospital.