Heather Gudenkauf - These Things Hidden

“She didn’t come over, did she?” Charm asks, and her eyes pop open in panic. If her mother has stopped by, she’d have taken one look at Gus and seen how sick he is and, like a vulture, start circling. Gus doesn’t have much, but he owns his house and car outright. Reanne always thought she should have gotten the house in the divorce and Charm wouldn’t put it past her to try and get her hands on it now.

Gus shakes his head, which looks too big for his body now. He has lost so much weight the past few months. “No, she just wanted to talk.” Charm watches as Gus pulls a kolache from the bag and takes a small bite. He does this for her benefit; he doesn’t want her to call the doctor and tell her he isn’t eating. He never eats more than a few nibbles of anything anymore.

“She wanted money, didn’t she?” Charm asks, already knowing the answer. So typical of her mother. No phone calls, no birthday cards, nothing. And then out of the blue, poof! A phone call. Not to Charm, of course. Reanne knows better than that.

“No, no,” Gus says defensively. “She just called to see how we were doing.”

“She mentioned me?” Charm asks skeptically.

“Yeah, she did.” With a trembling hand, Gus brings the kolache slowly back to his lips. His face is pale. He had tried to shave, but missed several stubbly patches on his neck. “She asked how you were, how school was going for you, what was new.”

“What did you tell her?” Charm asks almost fearfully. She doesn’t like her mother knowing about the details of her life. The less she knew, the less she could use against her.

“I didn’t tell her much,” Gus says miserably, and Charm knows he still loves her mother. She is very lovable. Until she’s not, Charm thinks, and then you just want to slap her away like she’s a pesky mosquito. But Gus still hasn’t gotten over her, even after all these years. “I told her that you’re doing well, that you graduate from nursing school next spring. That you’re a nice girl.” Then Gus’s face darkens, a storm cloud passes over his face. “Of course, she asked about your brother. I told her that I hadn’t heard from him in years and haven’t missed the son of a bitch one bit.”

“I bet she loved that!” Charm smiles. Her brother is her mother’s favorite. His father was the only man her mother ever truly loved and, in turn, he wanted nothing to do with her. Smart man, Charm thinks.

Gus sets the kolache on the table and looks at Charm, pain ingrained in his tired blue eyes. “She said that he called and left a strange message on her machine.”

“Oh,” Charm says casually, as if she doesn’t care. “What kind of message?”

“She didn’t say. Said she wanted to talk to you. She wants you to call her back,” Gus says coarsely.

“You look tired,” Charm tells him. “Why don’t you go and lie down for a while.” Gus doesn’t argue, which says everything. Slowly, he pushes his chair away from the kitchen table and gets unsteadily to his feet. “Remember, Jane is going to stop over later tonight,” she reminds him.

Almost every evening, Jane, a nurse from the Visiting Nurse Association, stops by to check on Gus. She’d arranged for Jane to come when Gus began coughing up blood and was starting to get more and more confused. Jane takes his blood pressure, listens to his lungs and makes sure he is being properly cared for. Gus always takes great pride in the way he looks and tries to straighten up a little more before Jane arrives. He makes sure his shirt is tucked in and his hair is combed. Cancer has given his skin a yellowish tinge and transformed his once-strong arms into twigs, but Gus is still a natural flirt.

“Ah, Jane.” Gus smiles. “My favorite nurse.”

“Hey,” Charm says in mock indignation. “I thought I was your favorite nurse.”

“You’re my favorite soon-to-be nurse,” Gus explains. “Jane is my favorite licensed nurse.”

“Oh, well. That’s okay, then,” Charm says, walking right behind Gus in case he falls, like a mother shadowing her wobbly toddler. “Just as long as we’re clear on the topic.” She makes sure Gus is situated safely in his bed, places a fresh glass of water on the side table and double-checks that his oxygen tank is working.

“Charm,” Gus says as he pulls the quilt up beneath his chin. “I talked to someone else today, too.” She can tell by the seriousness of his voice that the conversation was important. “I called the people at hospice …”

“Gus,” she interrupts. “Don’t …” Tears prickle behind her eyes. She’s not ready to have this conversation yet.

“I called hospice,” he says firmly. “When it’s time, I want to be here, in our home. Not at the hospital. Do you understand?”

“It’s too early—” Charm begins, but Gus stops her.

“Charm, kiddo. If you’re going to be a nurse, you’re going to have to learn how to listen to the patient.”

“But you’re not my patient.” She’s trying not to cry and begins to lower the shades to block out the early-afternoon sun.

“When the time comes, you call hospice. I left the number by the phone.”

“Okay,” she agrees, more to please Gus than anything. She’s not ready for Gus to die. He’s the only real family that she has, that she has ever had. She needs him. Exhaustion and pain pull at his face. “Can I get you anything before I have to go to school?” Charm asks, at once hating to leave and feeling relief.

“No, I just want to close my eyes for a while. I’m okay. You go on,” he tells her.

She stands there in the darkened room, next to Gus’s bed for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the mechanical breaths of the oxygen machine.

What am I going to do without him? Where am I going to go?

Claire and Jonathan don’t tell Joshua everything about his Gotcha Day. They don’t tell him how Claire watched as Jonathan placed his elbows on the table and rested his head on his hands. How much he hesitated when Dana called about the abandoned infant. How Claire had to tell herself, Be patient, wait him out. How finally, when he lifted his head, there were faint red circles dotting his forehead where his fingers had pressed into the skin. How Claire had wanted to go to him, to kiss each red spot gently, tenderly. “Just until they find another foster home for him, Claire,” Jonathan said with no conviction. “Do you understand? Nothing long-term. No way. I can’t do it.” He shook his head as if still bewildered. “I can’t do Ella all over again. I can’t get attached to a child once more, just to have him taken away in the end. That’s the whole point of foster care, to get the kids back to their parents.”

“Me, either,” Claire had whispered. “I can’t do Ella over again, either.” But somehow Claire knew this mother wouldn’t be coming back, wouldn’t take this little boy away from them. God couldn’t be so cruel, not after all that has happened.

A year earlier, a dead infant was found in a frozen cornfield on the other side of the state. After that, the Iowa state legislature had quickly passed a Safe Haven law, allowing mothers to drop off their newborns under two weeks old at hospitals, police or fire stations without fear of prosecution for abandonment. The doctors figured that this baby was about a month old, and for one brief moment, Claire worried that the police would find the mother who had abandoned him. She quickly brushed away her fears. This little boy, the little boy they would take home, would be the first baby left at a Safe Haven site. He would be theirs.

When Dana set Joshua in Claire’s arms, it was as if she was healed. As if all the miscarriages, the surgery, had never happened. The pain, the loss, became a faint memory. This was what they had waited for all these years. This beautiful, perfect little boy.