over her.
He turned out the lamp on his nightstand and settled under the blankets, trying to get warm. He rolled onto his back and lay staring at the ceiling, then flipped to his belly, punching his pillow into shape, unable to find a comfortable position. After ten minutes of tossing, he crawled out of bed and went into the living room.
He grabbed a bolster cushion off the sofa and carried it to his room. Throwing back the bedspread, he laid the cushion on Kaye’s side of the bed, gently bending it into a fetal position—the way Kaye slept on cold winter nights. He tucked the blankets around the lifeless form and climbed into bed beside it.
K ayeleigh hunched over in a back-row seat of the school bus. The yellow bus bounced over the county road Mom always called Washboard Lane. She put her hands over her ears, trying to tune out Landon and the other rowdy elementary kids in the front of the bus. She didn’t know which was worse—having to go to daycare after school like a little kid, or riding the bus home to be babysat by Grandma Thomas. Why couldn’t Dad just let her be home alone for a few hours?
Okay, she knew why. He was afraid the same thing might happen to her that happened to Mom and Rachel. He was only trying to protect her, and she loved him for it, but come on. She was responsible. She wasn’t stupid. Besides, she was almost a teenager, and he couldn’t protect her forever.
It seemed like Dad spent every spare minute these days fixing stuff. Since the day after the funeral, he’d come home nearly every night to march through the house on a mission, looking for something that wasn’t working right. Loose hinges, closet doors that didn’t shut right, the electrical short in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. All the stuff Mom had always been nagging him to fix. Well, it was too late now. He could fix everything in the whole stupid house, and it wouldn’t change anything.
The bus eased to a stop in front of their driveway. Landon jumped up from his seat behind her and smacked the back of her head. “Come on, dopey. Get your nose out of that book. We’re home.”
“I’m not reading, dummy.”
“Well, then wake up from your nap.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Landon ignored her and dragged his oversized backpack past her down the aisle. She watched through the window as he bounded across the front yard. Probably thought he could beat her to the last pack of Pop-Tarts in the cupboard. What he didn’t know was that she had her own secret stash in the laundry room. And she didn’t feel one bit guilty. It was the only way to make sure you got a snack around this stupid place.
She gathered her things and climbed down from the bus, waving over her shoulder at Mr. Turner, the bus driver. She stopped by the mailbox at the end of the driveway, but it was empty. Grandma must have already gotten the mail.
When she got inside, Landon had already parked his butt in front ofthe TV. He waved a shiny, empty foil wrapper in the air. “Ha! Too bad they’re gone.”
“So? Who cares? I didn’t want a dumb ol’ Pop-Tart anyway. I hope you get food poisoning.”
“Kayeleigh.” Grandma’s stern voice came from the kitchen. “That’s no way to talk to your brother.”
Landon stuck his tongue out at her.
She returned the favor and went out to the kitchen. “Hi, Grandma.”
She braced for a lecture on getting along with Landon, but Grandma only smiled and asked her how school was.
Kayeleigh shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. Did I get any mail?”
“Why, were you expecting something?”
“No…not really. Can I see what came?”
“It’s in on the dining room table. But there’s nothing there for you, honey. It’s all important stuff for your dad.”
“I know…I’m just going to look.”
“Well, don’t lose anything.”
“I won’t.” She went to the dining room table and found the newest stack of catalogs and envelopes. She riffled through the envelopes. A bunch of
He turned out the lamp on his nightstand and settled under the blankets, trying to get warm. He rolled onto his back and lay staring at the ceiling, then flipped to his belly, punching his pillow into shape, unable to find a comfortable position. After ten minutes of tossing, he crawled out of bed and went into the living room.
He grabbed a bolster cushion off the sofa and carried it to his room. Throwing back the bedspread, he laid the cushion on Kaye’s side of the bed, gently bending it into a fetal position—the way Kaye slept on cold winter nights. He tucked the blankets around the lifeless form and climbed into bed beside it.
K ayeleigh hunched over in a back-row seat of the school bus. The yellow bus bounced over the county road Mom always called Washboard Lane. She put her hands over her ears, trying to tune out Landon and the other rowdy elementary kids in the front of the bus. She didn’t know which was worse—having to go to daycare after school like a little kid, or riding the bus home to be babysat by Grandma Thomas. Why couldn’t Dad just let her be home alone for a few hours?
Okay, she knew why. He was afraid the same thing might happen to her that happened to Mom and Rachel. He was only trying to protect her, and she loved him for it, but come on. She was responsible. She wasn’t stupid. Besides, she was almost a teenager, and he couldn’t protect her forever.
It seemed like Dad spent every spare minute these days fixing stuff. Since the day after the funeral, he’d come home nearly every night to march through the house on a mission, looking for something that wasn’t working right. Loose hinges, closet doors that didn’t shut right, the electrical short in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. All the stuff Mom had always been nagging him to fix. Well, it was too late now. He could fix everything in the whole stupid house, and it wouldn’t change anything.
The bus eased to a stop in front of their driveway. Landon jumped up from his seat behind her and smacked the back of her head. “Come on, dopey. Get your nose out of that book. We’re home.”
“I’m not reading, dummy.”
“Well, then wake up from your nap.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Landon ignored her and dragged his oversized backpack past her down the aisle. She watched through the window as he bounded across the front yard. Probably thought he could beat her to the last pack of Pop-Tarts in the cupboard. What he didn’t know was that she had her own secret stash in the laundry room. And she didn’t feel one bit guilty. It was the only way to make sure you got a snack around this stupid place.
She gathered her things and climbed down from the bus, waving over her shoulder at Mr. Turner, the bus driver. She stopped by the mailbox at the end of the driveway, but it was empty. Grandma must have already gotten the mail.
When she got inside, Landon had already parked his butt in front ofthe TV. He waved a shiny, empty foil wrapper in the air. “Ha! Too bad they’re gone.”
“So? Who cares? I didn’t want a dumb ol’ Pop-Tart anyway. I hope you get food poisoning.”
“Kayeleigh.” Grandma’s stern voice came from the kitchen. “That’s no way to talk to your brother.”
Landon stuck his tongue out at her.
She returned the favor and went out to the kitchen. “Hi, Grandma.”
She braced for a lecture on getting along with Landon, but Grandma only smiled and asked her how school was.
Kayeleigh shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. Did I get any mail?”
“Why, were you expecting something?”
“No…not really. Can I see what came?”
“It’s in on the dining room table. But there’s nothing there for you, honey. It’s all important stuff for your dad.”
“I know…I’m just going to look.”
“Well, don’t lose anything.”
“I won’t.” She went to the dining room table and found the newest stack of catalogs and envelopes. She riffled through the envelopes. A bunch of
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