Page 75 of Everything We Give

“Ian. Put back the chair.”

Ian ignored his dad and stomped to his bedroom. He pulled on a sweatshirt and cap, then stormed down the stairs. He’d spent the morning walking the perimeter of their property with his dad and Josh Lansbury, the man who farmed their land. Stu had invited Ian along to listen to their conversation about soil conditions and crop rotations. The land would be Ian’s one day and his father felt he best understand how to work it even if he planned to lease it out like Stu did.

Ian wanted as much to do with the land as his father seemed to want to do with him and Sarah. His parents rarely spent time together, let alone in the same room. His dad slept on the couch in his office. When Ian had tried including Sarah on their walk this morning, she declined. She wanted to read. Ever since the motel incident, their marriage hadn’t been the same.

Ian opened the front door, intent on going to Marshall’s house. Better than hanging around home where no one wanted to be around the other people who lived there. He liked it at the Killions’. They sat together for dinner each night. They played board games and watched movies.

“Ian?”

He stopped short.

“Come here, please.”

He closed the door and went to the front parlor. His mother sat in her reading chair in the corner. A knitted blanket covered her legs, which she curled underneath her. Stacks of books crowded the scuffed hardwood floor, surrounding her. There had to be more than a hundred books. She’d read each at least once. Several of them multiple times. An open book was facedown on her lap. He couldn’t see the cover from where he stood, but guessed it was the latest Michael Crichton. She couldn’t get enough of his sci-fi thrillers.

His mom smiled at him. “Where are you off to?”

Ian shoved his fists into his front pockets. It pushed his shoulders to his ears. “Marshall’s.”

“How’s Marshall these days?”

“Fine, I guess.” He hadn’t invited Marshall over in months. He hadn’t had any friends over the entire school year. Ian didn’t trust his mom to be herself around them, and as ashamed as he was to admit, her alters’ behaviors embarrassed him. Besides, his dad worried if anybody found out about his mom, they’d take her away. Or worse, they’d take Ian away.

His mom glanced out the window. “It’s about to rain. Pick out a book. Read with me.”

Ian’s face scrunched up and she laughed. She pushed aside the blanket and stood, going to the bookshelf. “I’m sure there’s something here that should keep the interest of a thirteen-year-old boy.”

Ian snorted. Reading was the last thing he wanted to do. There were horses to be tended to in Marshall’s barn and blueberry pie to eat. Mrs.Killion told him yesterday she planned to bake the pie this afternoon. She’d invited him to come over, but he’d gotten sidetracked with his dad’s new digital camera.

“Why don’t you like your picture taken?” he asked.

“It makes me uncomfortable,” Sarah said, her back turned to him. She bent over to peer at the lower shelves. Her fingers trailed over the book spines. “Oh my goodness. Look what I found. Do you remember this one?”

The Black Stallion. She used to read passages to him every night until they finished the book and he asked her to start at the beginning.

“Read it to me.”

He loved that book, like when he was seven. He made a face. “It’s a kid’s book.”

“It’s a kids-of-all-ages book. You used to beg me to read this to you every night.”

Because he loved the way she read it to him. She’d get into character and make sound effects. Listening to her was better than watching the movie.

Sarah returned to her chair and patted the couch cushion beside her. “Sit with me. I’ll read to you.”

Ian glanced toward the staircase.

“I’ll keep my voice low so your dad doesn’t hear. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you,” she whispered conspiratorially.

Who cared if his mother was going to read to him like a little kid. What was the big deal?

“I’m not embarrassed.” Ian crossed the room and flopped onto the couch.

His mom flipped the book open to the first page and started to read. Ian leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. The soft cadence of her voice moved over him. Hearing her reminded him how much he used to enjoy this with her. No wonder he used to insist she tuck him into bed with that story. Every single night until her shifting became more frequent and he stopped asking her to read. He didn’t know who would be tucking him into bed that night. And on some nights when Billy showed up, Ian was the one tucking his mom into bed.

Soon, his mom finished the first chapter and Ian lifted his head. She was looking at him. A tear beaded in the corner of her eye. She stood and grasped his chin, lifting his cap to kiss his forehead. “No matter what I do or where I go, never,ever, forget that I love you,” she urgently whispered. “Whatever I do is because I love you.”

CHAPTER 22

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