In Her Shoes Read Online Free PDF Page B

Maggie wanted a puppy. Their mother didn't hesitate. "Of course a puppy!" she'd said, her voice rising. Rose noticed other shoppers staring at the three of them—two little girls in party dresses, one woman in a skirt printed with red poppies and a turquoise scarf, tall and beautiful, carrying six shopping bags and talking way too loud. "We should have gotten a puppy a long time ago!" "Dad's allergic," Rose said. Her mother either didn't hear, or decided to ignore her. She grabbed her daughters by their hands and hurried them over to the pet shop, where Maggie picked out a small tan cocker spaniel puppy and named it Honey Bun. "Mom was nuts, but she was fun, wasn't she?" Maggie asked in her underwater voice. "Yeah, she was," said Rose, remembering how they'd come home, laden with shopping bags and Honey Bun's cardboard carrying case, to their father sitting on the couch, still in his suit and tie from work, waiting.
     
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"Girls, go to your room," he'd said, taking Caroline by the hand and leading her to the kitchen. Rose and Maggie, carrying Honey Bun in her box, walked quietly upstairs, but even through the closed bedroom door, they could hear their mother's voice rising to a shriek. Michael, it was a good idea, it was a legitimate business idea, there's no reason it won't work, and I just bought the girls a few treats, I'm their mother, I can do what I want, I can take them out of school once in a while, it doesn't matter, we had a nice day, Michael, a special day, a day they'll always remember, and I'm sorry I forgot to call the school, but you shouldn't have worried, they were with me and I'm THEIR MOTHER I'm THEIR MOTHER I AM THEIR MOTHER "Oh, no," Maggie whispered, as the puppy started to whine. "Are they fighting? Is it our fault?" "Shh," said Rose. She gathered the puppy into her arms. Maggie's thumb crept into her mouth as she leaned against her sister, and they listened to thei r mother's screams, now punctuated with the sound of things being thrown and things breaking, and their father's murmur, which seemed to consist of a single word: Please. "How long did we have Honey Bun?" asked Maggie. Rose twisted in the armchair and struggled to remember. "A day, I think," she said. It was coming back to her now. The next morning, she'd gotten up early to walk the dog. The hallway was dark; their parents' bedroom door was closed. Their father was sitting at the kitchen table alone. "Your mother's resting," he said. "Can you take care of the dog? Can you get breakfast for yourself and Maggie?" "Sure," said Rose. She gave her father a long look. "Is Mom . . . is she okay?" Her father sighed, and restacked the newspaper. "She's just tired, Rose. She's resting. Try to keep quiet, and let her rest. Take care of your sister." "I will," Rose promised. When she came home from school that afternoon, the dog was gone. Her parents' bedroom door was still
     
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closed. And here she was, twenty-two years later, still keeping that promise, still taking care of her sister. "It was really good fudge, wasn't it?" asked Maggie. In the dark, she sounded like her six-year-old self—happy and hopeful, a merry little girl who wanted to believe everything her mother told her. "It was delicious," said Rose. "Good night, Maggie," she said, in a tone she hoped would make it clear that she wasn't interested in any more discussion.
     
When Jim Danvers opened his eyes the next morning, he was alone in the bed. He stretched, scratched himself, then got to his feet, wrapped a towel around his waist, and went in search of Rose. The bathroom door was locked, and he could hear water running behind it. He knocked gently, sweetly, seductively, even, imagining Rose in the shower, Rose's skin flushed and steamy, Rose's bare chest beaded with water . . . The door swung open, and a girl who was not Rose stalked out. "Hlgho," said Jim, struggling for some combination of "hello" and "who are you?" The strange girl was