The Secret Friend

13

Walter Smith carried Hannah down the cellar steps. When he reached the door to her room, he switched Hannah to his shoulder.

The key card was tucked in his front jean pocket. Walter stepped up next to the card reader. It beeped. He punched in the four numbers. The electronic locks clicked back. He opened the door and gently set Hannah down on her new bed.

Walter turned on the small lamp on the nightstand. Hannah's nose had stopped bleeding but blood had stained the front of her wool jacket. He took off her hat, jacket and gloves and folded them on top of the washing machine down the hall. Then he went upstairs.

His first stop was the garage. He opened up the trunk and removed the extra blankets Mary had told him to pack. His Blessed Mother said that if he ever got stopped by the police, they would search the trunk. If the police find blood, Walter, they'll take you away and you'll never see me again. Walter threw the blankets into a garbage bag.

The bathroom was on the second floor. Walter opened the medicine cabinet. He heard a car engine racing down the street.

Was it the police? Had they found him? Panicked, he turned off the bathroom light and looked out the tiny window.

A big truck was ploughing its way through the snow. It came to a stop at the end of his street, and in the street light he saw the words 'AJ Movers' printed on the side of the truck. The big engine coughed as it turned right and headed up the steep hill, stopping in front of a grey clapboard ranch that had been vacant for well over two years. Someone was moving into the Peterson home.

Walter relaxed. He grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a roll of toilet paper and headed back to the basement.

For the next half hour he cleaned the blood from Hannah's face. Her nose was swollen but it wasn't broken. Good. He didn't want her disfigured in any way.

Walter made one more trip upstairs, to the kitchen. He filled a large Ziploc bag with crushed ice and placed it on Hannah's nose. Her clothes were wet and smelled of fried food. Her sweatshirt was rolled up; he could see her stomach. She had a small, strawberry-coloured birthmark on her waist. He touched it. Her skin was warm and smooth.

Walter rubbed his hand across her stomach. He realized what he was doing and yanked his hand away, disgusted with himself.

'I'm sorry, Hannah. That was wrong.'

Hannah didn't stir, didn't move.

'I'm sorry I hurt you. It was an accident.' Walter hoped she could hear him.

The ice had melted. He took off Hannah's boots and socks. She had pretty feet.

Walter shut off the light, about to head upstairs, when he thought of Hannah's wet clothes. He wanted her to be comfortable.

In the dark, with his eyes shut, Walter slipped off her jeans then worked the sweatshirt and T-shirt over her head. Walter opened his eyes when he reached the hallway. Mary would be proud of his self-control.

He put the wet clothes in the washing machine. When he came back into the bedroom, he saw the outline of Hannah's body in the soft light from the hallway. She wore nice cotton underwear – the simple kind good girls wore, not the sinful stuff he saw in magazines and on TV. Emma had worn that kind of underwear – expensive, promiscuous. Hannah wasn't like that. Mary said Hannah was a good girl, with a good heart.

Hannah's breasts swelled beneath her bra. Walter stared at her chest, wanting to touch her again. The time would come for that later, after they got to know each other, after he showed Hannah how much he loved her and how happy she would be here with him.

His Blessed Mother was trying to speak to him. Mary's voice sounded far away. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

It's okay, Mary said.

Walter didn't move. His skin felt hot, the scars covering his face and body throbbing with heat.

Here, let me help you.

Walter felt his Blessed Mother working through him. Mary unbuttoned his shirt. Mary pulled off his T-shirt and unbuckled his belt. Then she gently guided him to the opposite side of the bed and moved back the sheets. Mary didn't have to tell him what to do next.

Walter climbed on top of Hannah and laid his head against her chest. He could hear the soft beating of her heart. He closed his eyes, knowing he could stay here forever, just like this, pressed up against her skin. He buried his face in her soft hair.

'I love you, Hannah. I love you so much.' Walter kissed Hannah's cheek and, unable to contain his joy any longer, started to cry.