Bank Owned by J. Joseph Wright Read Free Book Online

for her to get over the feeling of inadequacy. But most of all, she had to overcome the feeling that someone, or something, had cursed her womanhood, stripped her barren of any sort of life-giving, nurturing, motherly ability. And she’d done it. She’d faced the demon. Until Brian’s sudden and surprising bout of violence. After that, she felt the void again, and a deep-seated pain in her gut, pain she knew had no source. She was fine. Her doctor had assured her a hundred times. Still, she felt it. Like the baby was in there again, struggling with the cord around her neck. The whole time Brian made love to her, she had that feeling. But she denied it, convinced it wasn’t real. All that existed was she and Brian and their love for each other. And, out of that love, they’d create a child. She had hope.
     
    It was that hope that had her, two days later, in the shower, checking the pregnancy test strip before she’d even finished shaving her legs. She had to know. So, with hot water running and steam filling the bathroom, she picked it up off the counter. Negative. She collapsed against the tiled wall, sobbing.
     
     
     

 
     
    10.
     
    It took her twice as long as usual to get ready for work that day. In the spare bedroom where she kept her clothes, she got dressed in her best power skirt suit and studied the dark spots under her eyes, considering going back to bed one more time. Then she heard laughter. High and fast and melodic. Like a song.
     
    A child’s laughter.
     
    A flutter in her heart. She dropped the hairbrush and her feet moved without even thinking about where she was going. She just followed the sound of that musical, joyous giggling. She pictured a girl. She didn’t know why. It just sounded like a girl. And she was somewhere downstairs.
     
    In the kitchen, the laughter got louder, but she found no baby. More giggling pointed her to the basement, and down she went. The lone light bulb was harsh in her eyes and showed the basement for what it was—an empty, cold, damp place. No babies. Yet she heard one, babbling and cooing. It took only another second or two until she was standing before the cinderblock shelves, certain the baby was behind the concealed door.
     
    She had the blocks moved in no time. Worry for the baby’s wellbeing drove her, giving her almost supernatural speed and strength. Must have been supernatural, because, once the shelves were disassembled and moved aside, she got the secret door open with no troubles. The very same door Brian couldn’t dislodge. Her breath abandoned her at the sight of the blackness beyond. But the baby’s laughter became even louder, perfectly distinct. It was in there, and that knowledge urged her forward, into the darkness. A step down took her by surprise, and she stumbled the next three. Then she caught her balance, thankfully, since there were at least twenty more steps down, further into the underground abyss.
     
    When she reached bottom, what she beheld stunned her into silent awe. The room, not small, yet not large, either, had every inch crammed with children’s things. A mobile hung from the ceiling. All sorts of birds, different colors and sizes, spinning and dancing on strings. A lamp with lions and tigers and bears on the shade provided enough light to see a chest of toys, dollhouses and dump trucks and building blocks and bouncing balls. A shelf packed with books and stuffed animals and a table adorned with even more—elephants and giraffes and silly monkeys with cymbals in their hands. She found herself touching a monkey, just to make sure it was real. She handled it all, the toys and the lamp and a small tabletop with washcloths and bibs and diapers and little outfits with adorable flower prints.
     
    She realized the laughing that had brought her down there had ceased. The twinkling sound of a music box took its place, bringing her to a state of calm. All those terrible thoughts of losing her child were replaced by optimism, a