The Things That Keep Us Here Read Online Free PDF Page B

still kept asking things like that. Did she really not understand? Or was she simply hoping? “Kate, who are you texting?”
    Kate’s thumbs flew over her phone’s tiny keypad. “Michele. We’re trying for the longest text-messaging record.”
    “Well, stop it. We can’t afford that.”
    “It’s okay.” Kate smirked. “Dad upped my limit.”
    Was that true? He’d never said a word to her about it. “Since when?”
    Kate shrugged. “I don’t know. Last month?”
    This was one of those things she and Peter should have discussed. Letting Kate text even more than she already did might affect her schoolwork, and Ann would have said no. That was why Peter hadn’t said anything. He hated conflict.
    “I forgot to tell you, Mom,” Maddie said. “Hannah can’t play today. She’s starting piano lessons.”
    “Really? But Hannah’s mom and I talked about you two taking lessons together.”
    “Then I guess we’re not.”
    Ann heard the disappointment in her daughter’s voice. She felt it, too. “I’m sorry, honey. I should have let Rachel know we were still interested.”
    Maddie’s voice was small. “It’s all right.”
    “Maybe it’s not too late. I can call her as soon as we get home and—”
    “It’s okay. Just forget it.”
    “Well, we can at least see if Hannah can play tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow she’s got karate.”
    Yet another thing she and Rachel had discussed the girls doing together. But maybe Rachel had forgotten. “I’ll figure something out.”
    Ann turned the car into their neighborhood.
    Mr. Finn was out walking his dog again. He’d stopped by the evening before, petition in hand, and Ann had shooed him away by telling him it was dinnertime. He’d promised to come by earlier tonight. Maybe this time she’d plead a migraine or something. She braked to let the white sedan in front of her turn in to a driveway. An elderly woman stood on the front porch, waving as Ann passed by. Sue’s mother, taking care of Jodi again, Ann thought, returning the wave.
    “Kate?” Maddie said.
    “What.”
    “Would you rather step on a slug in your bare feet or—”
    “Just say it.”
    “—or play bingo with old people?” Maddie said, all in a rush. Kate considered as another trill of music burst into the car. She frowned at the phone display and thumbed a quick reply. “How old?”
    “Grandma old.”
    “Slug. Definitely.”
    Ann steered the car into the garage and switched off the ignition. “All right, you two. Get started on your homework. No more texting, Kate.”
    “Mom. Come on. We’re already up to ninety-seven messages. And that’s only since sixth period.”
    “You were texting in class? And your teacher didn’t confiscate your phone?”
    Kate shrugged. “We had a substitute.”
    “Listen, honey. You really have to start pulling up your grades. When you get to high school—”
    “Fine. Got it.” Kate pointedly held out her cell phone and pressed the Off button.
    Ann walked out to the curb. The mailbox yawned open, its contents threatening to spill onto the sidewalk. It had been days since Ann had thought to bring it in. She worked the bulk of paper free and pressed the mailbox door closed.
    “Hey, lady.”
    Libby bore down on her, stroller bumping along the sidewalk in front of her. Jacob lay nestled inside, his head tipped to one side, his eyelids at half-mast, tiny blue-mittened hands curled over the satin trim of the yellow blanket tucked around him.
    For one heart-stopping moment, there he was. Her own sweet William, with just the barest glint of golden hair on his bald little head, his lips pursed as though he were blowing bubbles, his cheeks rosy with sleep. She ached to scoop him up and press him to her shoulder, feel his butterfly breaths once more against her neck and the steady rise and fall of his sturdy back beneath the flat of her hand. But of course he wasn’t William. He was Jacob, her best friend’s son. Her own baby boy was long gone from