Little Secrets Read online

  “A few Braxton Hicks. That’s all. I love you. Be careful,” she added, trying to get him before he could disconnect, but he already had.

  The floor vibrated again as the sump pump went off. Ginny peeked out the back door at the glitter of rain slanting down. The entire backyard had become a swamp. They wouldn’t have to bother going to the beach this summer, they could simply pitch an umbrella off their back patio.

  Her stomach had settled a bit, which was good, though now the first tingles of heartburn were tickling the base of her throat. Ginny took a handful of saltines and a glass of milk with her upstairs to the library, where she picked up the book she’d been trying to finish for the past few weeks. There was nothing wrong with the book, it was all her. Easily distracted and having difficulty focusing. She thumbed the pages and settled her milk on the small wooden table she’d set up next to the chaise lounge. Then she tucked herself under the knitted throw and tried to concentrate.

  The problem was the rain. Constant, ceaseless, drumming. She’d turned the heat up and now the room had become almost stifling. Ginny couldn’t stand against the triple threat of heat, white noise and pregnancy. The book dropped from her fingers and she knew it as she let her head fall back against the chaise, but she was simply too drowsy to care.

  She woke up when the electricity went out. The sudden black pounded her eyelids as thoroughly as if she’d been in the dark and the lights had snapped on. Ginny pushed herself upright, forgetting about the book, which crashed to the floor. She looked automatically toward the windows to see if theirs was the only house without power, but the outside was as dark as in. So, the whole neighborhood then.

  Fortunately, she’d grown so used to moving around this house in the dark that it was no big deal for her to make her way downstairs, though she made sure to take her time and place each foot solidly and carefully on the step, to be sure she didn’t tumble down. The rechargeable flashlight had turned on when the power cut out, so she had no trouble seeing her way to grab it from the dock.

  Beneath her feet, the floor did not vibrate. The sump pump wouldn’t run without electricity, of course. Which meant water in the basement. Ginny moved to the back door again, but the light from inside reflected on the glass and she could see nothing but her own silhouette. She shielded the light and tried to see outside.

  That couldn’t be the creek, could it? Lapping at the edges of the flagstone patio? Ginny opened the back door, heedless of the rain, and held up her light.

  “Oh shit.” It was the creek, or maybe it was just that the saturated swamp of her backyard had joined with the still-rushing creek waters to make one vast pond that seemed to be creeping toward her house at an exponentially fast rate. “Shit, shit.”

  Her phone rang from her pocket. “Sean? Where are you?”

  “I’m stuck. The roads are closed. The bridge is out.” Sean sounded panicked. “The state police are redirecting everyone; they said almost all the back roads are flooded out. I don’t know how I’m going to get home. Are you okay?”

  Other than the nausea now rumbling through her? “Yes. I’m fine. But the power’s out. And the water…Sean, the water’s going to come into the basement.”

  “Don’t you go down there!” he warned. “Not in the dark. It’ll be fine.”

  Ginny moaned, imagining the water pouring in, rising. Ruining. “But the water…”

  “It’s too dangerous for you to go down there. Promise me you won’t. In fact, you should go across to Kendra’s house.”

  “They don’t have power either,” she told him. “It’s not just us. And frankly, I would rather drown.”

  This forced a laugh from both of them, and the small bit of humor made her feel better. Ginny looked into the backyard again, then went to the front of the house to look out the front door. In the driveway, the water was up to the middle of her car’s tires. Fear, real fear, plucked at her.

  “Everything’s flooding here, Sean.”

  “You stay put. I’m going to ask the cop what to do. But you…don’t you go out and try to drive in it.” Sean sounded fierce, determined. Helpless. “You stay there, Ginny. Get upstairs if you think it’s going to come in the house.”

  “Oh, it won’t, will it? Just the basement. It’s not going to come in the house, Sean.” But even as she said it, a vision of gray waves of water washing over her kitchen floor and down the hall filled her head.

  Her stomach muscles went tight. Hard. Ginny put a hand on the table, bending forward with her legs slightly spread. This felt different than the other times. This felt more…real.

  “Ginny! Are you okay? What’s going on?” Sean had been talking to her, but she hadn’t heard.

  Ginny shook herself as the contraction passed. She blew out a slow breath. “I’m fine. Just a contraction.”

  “Shit! What?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” she soothed him, though in fact she was starting to wonder if there would be something to worry about very soon. She put a hand on her belly, low, then over her crotch. She ached down there. Inside, deep. “Just get home when you can. Be careful—”

  But again, she was cut off, this time not because her husband had a quick-draw disconnect thumb, but because the signal had been dropped. Ginny breathed in, breathed out, until the pain in her belly eased. She still ached inside, something like the worst sort of menstrual cramps. But when it passed she could stand upright and breathe easily again, at least as easily as was possible with her child doing the cha-cha against her ribs.

  In the bathroom, though, the paper slid too easily against her flesh after she urinated. Something thick and wet spilled over the sides of the paper, and with a grimace Ginny maneuvered the light so she could see what it was. The doctor had warned her about the mucus plug, but truthfully Ginny hadn’t quite understood what it was or what it would look like until she saw it there.

  “Oh. Shit,” she said softly and let the paper fall into the toilet. She flushed and struggled back into her panties. She washed her hands, forgetting that with the electricity off, the water pump wouldn’t work until the tap sputtered and burped, going dry, and the toilet tank didn’t refill.

  Another contraction hit her at the base of the stairs. Still mild, she almost could’ve walked through it, but she didn’t want to take a chance on the stairs. Ginny held the newel post until the pain passed and tried to remember how long it had been since the last one. She’d better start keeping track, no easy task with all the clocks stopped and no clue where her watch was.

  Upstairs. Sean had told her to go upstairs. She heaved herself up one at a time and went into the library, where she set the flashlight on the table. It wasn’t bright enough to read by, but it cast enough light to show her the plate she’d left there earlier was empty. Ginny touched the crumbs with her fingertip and put them to her tongue. Salt. She wasn’t hungry, which meant she’d probably eaten them. Right?

  But she knew she hadn’t.

  She looked into the shadows, toward the small door of the crawl space. Of the closet. She’d have bent to look beneath the fainting couch if her body would bend that way, which it wouldn’t. Instead, she sat, her knees slightly spread and her hands on top of them. There was nothing to do here but wait. She thumbed her phone and brought up Peg’s number, but that call rang on and on without answer. Ginny typed in the net address for the local news channel, but the page stuck halfway and refused to load so that all she could read was “Roads closed, police direct traffic to alternate”.

  She waited for another contraction, but none came. She waited for the lights to come on, and that didn’t happen either. In limbo, waiting, starting to get chilled as the house cooled, Ginny curled up under the blanket and let herself float in the darkness. Not quite dreaming, but not really awake.

  * * * * *

  In front of her, a child.

  A girl. Long dark hair, bedraggled and tangled. Big