Chapter 208 Dark Past

Chapter 208 Dark Past
Laurette’s POV

The low humming of what sounds like a TV carries softly through the hallways of the house. And as I descend the stairs in nothing but one of Hosea’s t-shirts I threw on after my shower, I feed my eyes on some of the paintings hanging on the opposite wall. 

I realize somehow Hosea and the people around him must really like paintings since there is always one wherever they are. 

I’m about to look away from the wall entirely when a small square piece of wood laying flat against the wooden table attached to the wall catches my eyes. It seems to be the only thing out of place among the other decorative items on the little stand. Coming down the last stair, I move closer to the table with keen eyes, and upon closer inspection, I realize it is actually a frame that is lying flat. Upside down. 

I wonder if there is a picture in it. 

My fingers twitch beside me with the urge to flip it over, but the more I look at it, the more intentional its position seems. As though it was flipped over on purpose. 

Mumbling a low ‘fuck it’ in my mind, I cave and immediately flip it over, but the picture on it is the last thing I expected to see. It is a picture of Hosea alright. I recognize his little young face from the photo of he and his mum I had seen in his apartment. 

But this time around, he looks much older. If I were to guess his age in the photo I’d suppose about seven or eight. He had the widest smile on his face as he stood over a baby cot posing for the picture while the tiny hand of the newborn in the cot wrapped around his forefinger. 

That was all that was visible about the baby he was standing with in the photo. Their tiny little hand. 

Asides the shocking nature of the photo, another thing that stands out to me is how rough the part showing the baby’s hand is. As though it was folded and unfolded several times. 

I let out a thoughtful sigh as I stared at the photo, my thumb tracing the outline of Hosea’s small frame in it. The more I looked, the more the question gleamed in my mind and puzzled me even more;

Did Hosea have a sibling?

“What are you doing?”

My gasp is sharp and visceral as I stumble back against the wooden surface, my hands flying to my chest as I mistakenly send a few things clattering to the ground from my sudden movement. 

Hosea stands at the top of the stairs, regarding me with a frown on his face. Slowly, he starts to descend the stairs one step at a time, his eyes still on me. His eyes glance down at my hands briefly, settling on the picture between my fingers for a few seconds before coming back to my eyes. 

He comes to stand in front of me, an unreadable on his face. “Yea?”  He repeats, waiting patiently for the answer to his question. 

I clear my throat, lifting the picture up between us briefly as I say, “Just looking around… I’m sorry”. I place the photo back where I saw it, and in the same position. But it is still hard reading the look on Hosea’s face as he gestures towards the living room, silently asking me to go in. 

I walk over to the now uncovered couch in the living room with hasty steps, feeling like the biggest fuck up. And I wonder whether the feeling is from snooping around or getting caught doing it. I can’t really tell. Although I might admit it’s the latter. 

Hosea comes into the living room moments later and walks over to the dining table. I watch him grab the bags of what seems like takeout from the table and bring it over to the couch, settling beside me. 

The Tv is the only major light illuminating the living room, giving it a mildly colorful glow. I stare at Hosea’s face under the light, watching the colors dance over his features. 

“I’m sorry for snooping”. I mumble, bringing my eyes down to my lap. 

He remains quiet, eyes glued to the tv. But the slight tic in his jaw tells me he is affected by it. A few silent beats pass before he finally speaks up, and it catches me off guard. 

“This cabin was where my mom loved to work.”  He starts, wetting his lips and looking down at his hands. His chest expands with a deep breath, and he momentarily seems deeply troubled by the subject that I don’t even expect him to keep going. But then he speaks again. “She wrote sometimes. And loved to write here. Where she could get away from all the drama in Greytown.”

I ruminate on his words in silence. Which he sees as cue to carry on. 

“It was on our third year of visiting this place yearly that she suddenly found out she was pregnant again. With another child. Apparently that stuff was something she struggled with the first time. The first time being… well, me.”

I hold my breath as I try to decipher where this could be going. But he doesn’t seem to care as he keeps going. 

“This time around the pregnancy was worse for her. She struggled terribly and ended up giving birth prematurely. The baby didn’t make it past the first week. That was around the time we took that picture.”

I blink back tears as I reach over to rest my hand on his lap. “I’m so sorry, Hosea”

He shakes his head, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s… it’s nothing. She never wanted the baby anyway.”

I frown, squeezing his thigh in reassurance. “Why do you say so?”

Hosea lets out a shaky breath, blinking repeatedly as though fighting tears of his own. He seems terrified but keeps talking anyway. And his next words are the last thing I ever expect to hear, that has my hands flying up to my mouth. 

“Because while she was pregnant I caught her trying to get rid of it. Twice.”