The Birthing House Page 12

  Patrons turned to see what was what.

  Laski waved them off. ‘Sit down. There, we’re just talking now. You’re right about the history. It was a birthing house. But haunted? Now let’s think about that for a moment. What does that mean? Like in one of those places where the shit gets handed down. Andyville, what was it called?’

  ‘Amityville? Jesus!’

  ‘No, no, listen. This Amityville was, what? Possessed? Some guy murdered his wife and kids up in dare? The Devil? What was the deal on that job?’

  ‘Both, I think. No, it was the son killed his family first. The next one was the husband.’

  ‘Right, so why come I lived dare twenty-six years and never seen boo?’

  Conrad had no answer for that.

  ‘You got to keep it together, Conrad. Play by the rules. Use your head.’

  ‘I’m telling you—’

  ‘But let’s talk about murder, like one of these movies where the guy chops his wife and kids to bits and leaves a trail of black heart evil all over the house. It’s like a coat of paint, this evil. Okay, so dare’s dat den. And who cares where it came from. Satan, mankind, don’t matter. It happens to good people, because even good people got problems. And problems is what your haunted house feeds on, son. Just like a one of them payday loan stores. So it goes, and sometimes it goes to murder. But if all that evil came from some murderin’, what is the opposite of all that?’

  ‘Of murder?’

  ‘Yes, what is the polar opposite of murder?’

  ‘Life.’

  ‘Close. Murder is removing life from this world.’ Laski was a professor now. ‘Bringing life into this world is . . . ?’

  ‘Birth.’

  ‘Birth. Now let’s say dare’s a house. A house where not one murder was committed, but birth was committed, and frequently. Hundreds of babies entering the world through this house. Women come and go. Women are drawn to it. Women from all walks of life, from next door, from the next town over, hell, some of them from out of state. And the folks who live dare too, the family. Young ones and old ones. Women on top of women. You got pregnant mothers and children and runaways and strays. Dey come to this house. Why? Because it has magical vibes? Because God has blessed this house?’

  ‘That’s what your wife thinks.’

  ‘Excuse me, but fuck m’wife. She’s crazier’na badger with a sticka corn up its ass.’

  They finished their beers. Conrad had arrived at drunk, and Laski was close behind. The man had begun to philosophize.

  Conrad flagged the waitress. ‘She said God has blessed this house. It doesn’t feel like God blessed this house.’

  ‘And fuck God, too,’ Laski said. ‘This is about the women.’

  ‘The women in the photo?’

  ‘Some of them. Some others.’

  ‘What happened to them? Something bad happened?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Women give birth and die in hospitals, too, and in greater numbers. A soul for a soul, if ya like. But that’s not why dey come. Dey come ’cause the man who lives dare’s a doctor. And this is all happening in a time when the nearest hospital, the only real hospital in the northern part of the Midwest for hundreds of miles around, is in Chicago. Later, another one opens in Iowa City or Des Moines, M’waukee. But back den, if you lived in south-west Wisconsin, you had few options outside of the home. These women don’t want the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Dey want the miracle of modern medicine. Dey want their baby to have the best chance at a healthy life. Even the ones who believe God created the world in seven days, comes to life and death, or in this case birth, do dey put their faith in God? No, dey put dare faith in science. Or a midwife. Folk remedies, natural birth, modern medicine. It all comes down to getting the most knowledgeable person in the room when the nipper’s slidin’ downda chute.’

  ‘This is insane. How can you sit there and tell me this?’

  ‘Ain’t telling you a thing a hundred cultures on this earth don’t already believe. You’re gonna believe what you wanna believe anyway. I can see dat.’

  ‘I might also sue your ass off.’

  ‘You ever see women around babies? Just makes ’em want more babies. Dey can’t help it. Da cunnie is a grand mystery to men. What do we know?’

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Life. Life’s what happened. All this blood splashed on the floor and the walls and the wailing women and the sweat and the pain and the prayer. It’s just birth. And what does all this birth do to a house? Your supernatural tales would suggest that death opens a door. And why not? It’s a violent act, the spirit leaving the body and all that crap. But birth is violent, too, make no mistake about that. Bringing a new soul into this world makes a helluva racket. Some cultures, dey move the pregnant females away just before birth, or during them menses, figurin’ if the evil spirits a comin’, might swoop down now when she’s got her legs open. I don’t know shit about spirits, but I know the Indians got a special teepee for the women. Some folks, like them nutters up in Idaho what got shot in the back by dem Federalis, dey had a birthing shack. Dey were afraid of something besides the government, all right. I don’t know about opening no doors, but if dare’s doors to be opened, then birth must be one way to open them. Maybe all this ushering of babies into the world could do that.’

  ‘Is that what you believe is happening?’ Conrad said. ‘The birthing house wants another baby? Are you telling me that’s how you kept it . . . happy for the past twenty-six years? Having babies?’

  ‘I’m just a family man,’ Laski said, his shit-eating grin revealing yellow teeth.

  ‘Right,’ Conrad said. ‘And your kids?’

  ‘What about my kids?’

  ‘They’re all . . . each one has an abnormality. What happened to them?’

  ‘Bad genes.’ Laski went back to watching the game, like they were discussing Ford versus GM.

  Bullshit. ‘You had more, didn’t you? More than the three I saw your wife with.’

  ‘Who tol’ you dat?’

  ‘Is it true?’

  ‘You got no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve never been a father.’

  ‘What happened to them? Did they die, or did someone . . . did something . . . murder them?’

  ‘You know . . .’ Laski stood and hooked his beer into his arm, shelling a peanut. ‘We were happy dare, once. Good times, bad times. Not so different from any life in any other house.’

  ‘Then why’d you leave?’

  Laski turned to Conrad, weighing his response. ‘My wife, she didn’t wanna sell. But we got her for a song. I figured the market was ripe.’

  ‘Fuck you, Laski. What the fuck did you tell me all that for if not to tell me something? You want to confess? Because if something happens to my wife—’

  ‘Yeah, what you gonna do? Move back to California?’

  Suddenly the argument was over. Conrad wanted to crawl across the table and smash his bottle over Laski’s head.

  ‘My wife is pregnant. I don’t know what to do, Leon. I need help.’

  Laski looked Conrad in the eye and nodded very slowly, imparting his last and only real piece of advice. ‘Listen to the woman of the house. Be a man, but keep your pecker in your pocket unless you’re planning on putting it to righteous use. And listen to the woman of the house.’

  18

  Conrad stood leaning over the bathroom sink with a tube of ointment in his good hand. The problem was, they were both good hands now. The dog bite that had started as a hole requiring sutures was now but a faint red dot, the surrounding tissue pink, clean and dry as paper.

  It’s healed, he thought. Damned if it hasn’t healed itself up in two days.

  He turned again to the bathroom window facing the backyard, not admitting to himself that he was hoping to see Nadia Grum. He thought he’d seen her there each night since her parents left town, standing still or pacing by the fence. He thought she might be sleepwalking, but eventually she seemed to snap out of it before darting back be
hind her house.

  Twenty minutes later he was dozing on his feet, his face pleasantly cooling against the window, when he saw movement, a shape. It took him another half a minute for his eyes to adjust and see the woman standing in his backyard. Not on the Grum side; this time she had crossed over. She looked up at him and tiredly raised one hand, then turned away slowly.

  He lost her for a moment, but she reappeared, walking the flagstone path toward the detached garage at the rear of the property. No, not Nadia. Nadia was blonde as a cocker spaniel, and even in the darkness he could see that this woman had black hair. He might have tried pretending she was Nadia if she had been wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, or even a white nightgown that implied sleepwalking. But the woman who was now headed toward the overgrown vegetable garden at the end of the property wasn’t wearing street clothes or pajamas. She was wearing a black dress, the kind that billowed under the waist and fit snuggly above it.

  She’s crazy, he thought. One of the locals gone off the radar. She needs help before she wanders into the garden and steps on a rusted rake.

  Conrad trotted down the stairs, leaving a path of lights on as he went. The stove clock read 4.13 a.m. The dogs scrambled out of bed to join him in this new adventure.

  But by the time he made it outside and to the edge of the garden, she was gone. He tried to imagine a woman in a long dress scrambling over the six-foot fence bordering the entire back half of the property, but it wasn’t working. The late-night numbness lifted all at once and Conrad became frightened all over again. He padded up the flagstone path in bare feet, detouring to the Grum residence on his way home.

  He knocked and waited. And knocked and waited.

  One last rapping tattoo on the door and then he would give up before someone called the cops. Twenty seconds passed. As he passed their front bay window, he saw a curtain drop and blonde hair on the retreat.

  ‘Nadia?’ he whisper-shouted. ‘It’s just me. Conrad.’

  He was still standing there feeling like a peeping Tom when the front door opened. She pushed the screen door with one hand, subconsciously caressing the orb of her belly with the other, leaning out as if she didn’t trust the porch with her bare feet. She was squinty-eyed with sleep.

  ‘Hey, Nadia, sorry to bother. Were you just out back?’

  ‘I was sleeping, Conrad.’ She became alert mid-yawn. ‘Why?’

  ‘I, uh, just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

  He noted the small blonde hairs stiffening on the gooseflesh of her upper thighs, just below the hemline of her boxer shorts.

  ‘I’m supposed to be watching the place,’ he said. ‘Doing some chores—’

  ‘They don’t trust me to be alone.’

  ‘Oh, no, it’s not—’

  ‘It’s fine. I get it.’

  He smiled at that. ‘Yeah, good night, Nadia. Sorry again.’

  As he retreated, she said, ‘Conrad?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Think you could give me a ride tomorrow? Or today, I guess it is.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘To Madison?’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Uhm, like ten? It won’t take long, maybe just an hour there and back, maybe fifteen minutes there?’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘I’ll pay for the gas.’

  ‘No, it’s the least I can do after scaring you.’

  ‘You didn’t scare me.’ She gave him a tired smile.

  ‘You don’t scare very easily, do you?’

  ‘Not any more.’

  He told himself opening the car door for her was more an acknowledgement of her condition than an act of chivalry. Her white hair and whiter skin were glowing in the sun, illuminating the blue veins in her cheek. She wore a knee-length pleated skirt and plaid Tommy wedges, and a snug, navy-colored long-sleeve top. The top slenderized her arms and made her look more pregnant than she had five hours before.

  She carried a pink and white Puma sport bag that was either a large purse or small duffel, its contents as much a mystery as their destination.

  ‘Morning,’ he said.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, sinking into the Volvo.

  In the car, her scent. Like she had spilled vanilla extract on her shirt. Made him think of ice cream. Milkshake girl. It was going to be a long ride.

  ‘Thanks for doing this,’ she said, doing her lipstick in the visor mirror.

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Oh, do you know how to get there?’

  ‘You’ll have to tell me where we’re going once we get near Madison.’

  ‘Right.’

  She offered no more details. He figured doctor’s visit and wondered if she would want him to come in or wait in the car. Conrad merged from the town’s business loop on to the entrance ramp to Highway 151. He locked the cruise control at seventy-two.

  ‘So,’ he said, testing the waters. ‘I ran into your old neighbors at Wal-Mart the other day. Mrs Laski and her . . . kids. What’s up with them, right?’

  Nadia nodded without interest.

  ‘Did you know them?’

  ‘I used to sit for them.’

  ‘Really? How was that?’

  ‘I’m glad they moved.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Their kids were difficult.’

  ‘Yeah, I can imagine. They had, what, three? Or more? Because your parents seemed confused—’

  ‘Can we not talk about the Laskis, please?’

  ‘Sure.’ Bingo.

  A small herd of alpacas grazed in a field. Conrad could swear one looked at him as they drove by.

  A while later she said, ‘Do you miss Los Angeles?’

  ‘I miss the food. In-N-Out burgers. Chicken tacos at Baja Fresh. Not much else.’

  ‘I thought LA was fun?’

  ‘It was, for a while.’

  ‘Why did you choose Wisconsin. You have family here?’

  ‘No. It just seemed to be everything LA wasn’t. It’s quiet.’

  Nadia blew air though her mouth. ‘It is quiet.’

  A minute passed.

  ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this,’ he said. ‘But here. Okay, why we left Los Angeles. We’re not doing so well, Jo and I. I went back to Chicago a couple months ago. My father died in an accident.’

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘No, it’s not a big deal. Really.’

  Nadia frowned.

  ‘That’s not what I mean. I’m sorry he died. But he was never around. He was a stranger to me. I just - anyway. I wish we would have had a chance to do it differently, but he made his choices. But when I got home, a friend of ours was there. With Jo.’

  ‘Were they . . . ?’

  ‘She says no. But I think yes.’

  ‘So that must have sucked royal.’

  ‘Yeah. But the thing is, I wasn’t surprised. Or I was, but only for a minute. I kind of knew something was wrong. And I’m no saint myself.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Nadia’s eyes were very wide. Like maybe she was thinking she’d rather not be in the car with him just now.

  ‘I didn’t do anything. Really. But I thought about it. There was a girl I worked with.’

  ‘She was your friend, or you just worked with her?’

  The cruise control was holding steady. He steered with the heel of one palm. There were no cars behind, in front, or beside them. The way the wagon pulled them along, it wasn’t even driving. It was like being on a ride.

  ‘I thought about it a lot. We came very close to doing something very stupid. But we didn’t.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘No, Nadia, really. I didn’t. I could have. We hung out a little, went for some drinks after work. From the bookstore. We had dinner once and went back to her place, and I know she was interested in me, despite my situation.’

  ‘Was she a total slut?’

  ‘No. She was really normal, I think. I didn’t stick around to find out.’

  ‘Does your wife know?’

&n
bsp; ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But she knows something.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell her after you caught her and this other guy?’

  ‘I just wanted it to go away. Do-over. Off-setting penalties.’

  ‘What’s that, football?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘I know. It sounds crazy now. But I gave her a choice. Either we stayed and fell apart or we moved and started over.’

  ‘Starting over. Yeah. No, I bet she knows.’

  This alarmed him. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘We’re smarter than you think.’

  ‘No, I have known for some time that my wife is smarter than me.’

  They ticked off a couple more miles of farmland in a cocoon of comfortable anti-conversation before she said, ‘Speaking of starting over, you’re taking me to the airport.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m going to stay with some friends in Seattle.’

  He looked at the pink Puma bag on the floor. ‘Does Mom know?’

  ‘No, and you’re not going to tell her, right?’

  ‘Shouldn’t I?’

  Nadia leaned over, close enough for him to smell the smell of her under the vanilla. ‘She would never blame you. She’ll say it’s typical.’

  Conrad pulled off the highway and parked on the shoulder. He turned off the ignition.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Nadia sat against the door, facing him.

  ‘You can’t just leave,’ he said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s not a good time.’

  Her flirting confidence had gone sour. ‘What’s not a good time?’

  ‘Now, before she comes back.’ His hands trembled and Nadia’s eyebrows formed a V as she leaned against the door. ‘All this stuff is happening now. You can’t leave.’

  ‘But I am leaving. And why do you care?’

  ‘It’s about making things right. At home.’

  ‘You don’t even know me. Just because my parents hired you, I don’t owe you shit.’

  He was glad she asked because he was tired of waiting to say it out loud. ‘I think you know. What’s going on there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘My house. Whatever is in there . . . doesn’t want you to leave.’ A bolt of pain launched back from his left eyeball and sat there at the base of his skull, pulsing.