Christopher Ransom - The Birthing House

He sank into the clean sheets, offering a prayer as he slipped into darkness.

Please don't take her, too.

His first thought upon waking was, Mother's home .

No. Mother was long gone, and father, too. Jo. Jo was home.

But not in bed. The smell of frying bacon permeated the entire upper floor, with coffee underneath.

It was after eleven. He could not remember his last meal. His stomach growled as he pulled his shorts over his underwear. It would be horrible at first, but they would talk through it. They would talk and talk until the air was clear between them and then they would discuss the next steps. Maybe he would look for a job. She could stay home and heal. They could try again. He brushed and rinsed his mouth, dug a tee shirt out of the dryer. He slipped into his brick-red sandals (the ones he would never be able to wear again because they reminded him of the blood) and trotted down the servants' stairs to join her in the kitchen.

The bacon was black and smoking in the pan. The kitchen smelled like death and his stomach clenched.

'Jo?' He kept his voice at a normal pitch and busied himself by shutting off the stove and wiping up the grease spatters all around the pan. She liked her bacon crispy, but this was pushing it. 'Jo? Where are you, Baby?'

Predictably, the dogs came running in. He dropped some of the charred stuff into their radar range and they snatched it out the air and swallowed without chewing. He looked out the window over the sink. She wasn't in the backyard. He saw the garage. What had he seen last night, from the bathroom window? A shadow? A tree bowing to the wind? After finding Jo in the tub, it seemed insignificant. Luther sprang from the floor and shoved Conrad in the back.

'Where is she, huh? Where's Mommy?' he said, throwing the dogs more shriveled black carbon. He tossed the pan into the bin. He unhooked the trash bag and carried it to the front door and stopped, the bag swinging in his hand.

He glanced out the front window. Jo was standing next to the mailbox. Talking to Steve Bartholomew, good ol' Steve-O. Well well. She stood stiffly with her arms crossed over her chest, hair pulled back. Tee shirt, pink sweat pants, no shoes. Like she went out for the mail and got waylaid by the curious neighbor. The bacon had been burning; she had been out there longer than she had expected.

Steve-O was doing all the talking and Jo was just staring at him, looking as stiff and tired as she had before bed. Steve-O looked grave, but that might not mean anything. He always looked pissed off unless he was guffawing at his own jokes and pouring wine down his throat. Maybe she's just tired. Doesn't mean Steve-O's giving her a minute-by-minute surveillance report . Steve jerked a thumb toward the Grum house.

Conrad's heart stopped and then beat double-time, sending a branch of pain into his shoulder. Gail Grum was with them, standing to Steve-O's right and slightly behind him. The skin around her eyes was visibly red from twenty-five feet away.

'Here we go.' The trash bag was slippery in his palm, the plastic sliding through his fingers as he yanked the door open and stepped out.

All three turned to look at him.

'Morning,' he said, pacing off the path from the porch to the trash cans on the side of the house.

'Conrad,' Steve said.

'Morning?' Gail said, looking sharply at Jo.

His wife didn't say anything. She just sort of squint-smiled at him.

Conrad dropped the trash in and replaced the lid. He stopped halfway up the walk and looked at Jo. 'Do you want me to shut off the stove, sweetie?'

She did not respond for half a minute.

'Jo? The bacon?'

She jumped. 'Oh, yes, please.'

Shit, she is a wreck.

Steve and Gail waited, watching him like they wanted him to go back inside so they could finish their chat.

He walked across the lawn to join them, completing their square. 'No word yet from Nadia, huh?'

'No.' Gail looked worse up close. Her hair was uncombed and her usually gleaming smile had been supplanted by a tight, lip-less grimace.

'This business,' Steve-O said. 'It's not sounding too good, Conrad.'

Jo shifted her weight and looked at him like she was merely an observer, not yet fully a member of the drama. Even though she knew nothing, she seemed too . . . not relaxed, that was too generous a word . . . but unconcerned.

Suddenly Gail dropped her fist from her mouth and made a small, eeking sound. 'I have to tell you, Conrad, I have a bad feeling about this. I've spoken to the police!'

'Okay,' he said, hoping it came off as calm. 'That's wise. What did they say?'

'Eddie is dead, Conrad.'

'What?' Conrad said, genuinely shocked. Not by the fact, but by the knowledge. It was out. Now things were going to get really fucking hairy. Watch your step, 'Rad. 'How?'

Steve shot Gail a look before elaborating. 'Dale Stuart, his floor manager at Menard's, called yesterday when Eddie hadn't shown up two days in a row for work.'

'What happened? What about Nadia?'

'Eddie's wounds are indicating a possible suicide, though the police aren't revealing much yet. As for Nadia, Big John went with Sheriff Testwuide. They're looking for her now. In four counties.'

The air inside the square absorbed the charges coming from each, becoming electric. None of them had all the pieces, but each of them suspected something was off. If he let it continue this way, waiting for them to add up their suspicions, they would turn it all on him in one great zap.

'Jesus. That's awful. What can I do?'

'What did she say, Conrad?' Gail was as close to blasting off. 'She must have said something! I know you know something!'

'Conrad?' Jo prompted, suddenly coming to life for the first time. 'Do you know something about Nadia leaving town? Did she say something about leaving this, who is it, this Eddie?'

Why was she chiming in now? Where was she getting this bit about Nadia leaving town? He stared at her. He did not think he had mentioned Nadia trying to leave town - not to Jo. He frowned at his wife. Jo nodded, just a little marriage nod, the kind so small only a spouse can recognize it. Go on, tell them about Eddie , the nod said.

If you say so .

Conrad looked back to Gail. 'Did Nadia leave her cell phone at your house, at home, I mean?'

'Her cell phone,' Gail repeated, blinking. 'I don't know. Why?'

'There was a message from Eddie,' Conrad said. 'He was screaming. He said he was going to kill himself. We heard a shot.'

'Oh, my God . . .' Gail tottered back on her heels. Steve took her by the arm and bore down on Conrad.

'A shot!' Steve said. 'When was this? Are you sure?'

'Oh my,' Jo said, which really wasn't something she had ever said before.

'It was three days ago,' he said. 'And I'm sure because Nadia played it for me. Eddie had been calling her all the time, screaming and crying and begging her not to leave, telling her to get out of his life, threatening to hurt her if she left without him.'

Gail moaned again.

Steve made a fist. 'Jesus! Why didn't you mention this the other day, Conrad? Why didn't you call for help?'

'I was trying to help her, Steve. I told her we should call the police, and she panicked. She said Eddie liked to play with guns and she didn't want to get him into more trouble, because she was his only friend. She said he pulled shit like this all the time, trying to scare her, manipulate her. I told her she was crazy and she better stay the hell away from him. I made her promise, in fact, not to talk to him.'

'Not good enough, Harrison. You're an adult. You don't play around with guns. You call the fucking police!'

'God damn it, Steve, I tried! Nadia said she was going to run away. She said if I called the police or you, or you, Gail, she would leave town and never come back. We argued. She cried about it. I thought we had reached a deal. She promised to stay away from Eddie and not go anywhere without me, and I promised to back off.' Jesus, he was really feeling it now! Could even feel Jo beside him, nodding, encouraging him - yes yes, more more! 'Maybe you shouldn't have left your pregnant daughter alone, Gail. I'm very sorry, but obviously you - none of us - had any idea what a fucking basket case this father of her child turned out to be.'