Hush by Anne Frasier Read Free Book Online Page B

her: sorrow.
    And so something in the universe shifted, and
Claudia became one of those people she'd always looked at from a
distance, never thinking about what the inside of their lives must
be like.
    In the three years she'd been in the
relationship with Daniel, her circle of friends had dwindled to
two—herself and Daniel. When it was over and she finally looked
back without the happy glasses, she wondered how she'd allowed
herself to turn into one of those girls who breathed for one person
and one person alone. She had allowed herself to be consumed by
someone she hadn't even really known. From that point on, she swore
she would never let a man be the most important thing in her
life.
    Her parents had very little put away toward
retirement. Claudia had no recourse but to sell their house, which
was ten years away from being paid off. With the equity, she paid
for funeral expenses and outstanding bills, then moved back to
Chicago to continue her education. If she was careful, the
remaining money would last a year, maybe more. And once the baby
was born, she would get a full-time job.
    She was seven months pregnant when she rented
the efficiency apartment on the second floor of a five- story
building that stood between a crumbling art-deco theater and the
Saint Cristobel Mission where the poor were fed two hot meals a
day.
    Claudia worked at the mission three days a
week. She may have been pregnant, but she was still strong, still
able, so she helped out where she could. In return, she received
support from strangers.
    Later the police would want to know about
everyone she'd come in contact with at the mission, everyone she'd
ever spoken to, which of course was an impossible request. She saw
a lot of the same faces, but there were new ones every day. There
were people she saw once and never again. And unfortunately, some
people simply didn't stand out. They were poor, they were dirty,
they were hungry lost souls. That's what she remembered most about
them.
    She tried not to dwell on it because the
world was made of questions that had no answers, but she would
sometimes catch herself wondering how and why her luck had gone
from good to bad. Her good fortune, while not exactly making her
shallow, had given her an insulated view from a window she didn't
care to move past. She had known about poor people, she had even
participated in food drives, but she'd never understood the depths
of poverty. She'd never looked at it from the inside.
    She was afraid of pain so she went to Lamaze
classes, clutching a pillow to her growing stomach. She was the
only one without a coach in a class of forty women. Jacob, a
mission volunteer, offered to be her coach, but she declined. He'd
done enough for her already.
    Jacob had helped her find the apartment. His
mother was a social worker, and he knew the ins and outs of
everything available to an unemployed, single expectant mother. He
told her about free meals at the mission. He took her to a clinic
where she could get prenatal care.
    Childbirth was hell.
    How could this be natural? There had to be
something wrong. She was being ripped in two. And then she had
another thought: If she died, nobody would miss her. Nobody would
even know she'd ever lived.
    No, the midwife told her everything was going
along fine. Everything was okay.
    At 11:24 P.M., five months after her mother's
death, Claudia Reynolds gave birth to a twenty-inch, seven-
and-a-half-pound baby boy. Right then and there, when she looked
into his sweet little face, into those sweet, unfocused eyes, she
was lost, feeling a love so powerful it scared her. And she thought
she could endure all the curses in the world for him.
    "His eyes," she said in amazement as the
nurse settled the wrapped infant into Claudia's waiting arms,
"they're so blue."
    "Most newborns' eyes are blue. They usually
change in a few weeks."
    For some inexplicable reason, Claudia felt
her baby's eyes wouldn't change. They would stay a deep ocean blue
the rest of