Carla Buckley - The Things That Keep Us Here (Random House Readers Circle)

For my sister, Liese

PROLOGUE

I T WAS QUIET COMING HOME FROM THE FUNERAL. TOO QUIET . Ann wished Peter would say something, but there was just the soft patter of rain and the wipers squeaking back and forth across the windshield. Even the radio was mute, reception having sizzled into static miles before.

As they crossed into Ohio, Ann turned around to see why Maddie hadnt called it, and saw her seven-year-old had fallen asleep, her head tipped back and her lips parted, her book slipped halfway from her grasp. The first hour of their trip had been punctuated by Maddie asking every five minutes, Mom, what does this spell? Ann leaned back and teased the opened book from her daughters fingers, closed it, and put it on the seat beside Maddie. Kate hunched in the opposite corner, a tangle of brown hair falling over her face and obscuring her features, the twin wires of her iPod coiling past her shoulders and into her lap.

Ann turned back around. The girls are asleep. Peter nodded.

Even Kate. I dont know how she can possibly sleep with her music going.

He made no reply.

Do you know I caught her trying to sneak her iPod into the church? I dont think giving her that was such a great idea. When Peter remained silent, she went on. Its just one more way for her to tune everyone out.

He shrugged. Shes twelve. Thats what twelve-year-olds do.

I think its more than that, Peter.

He said nothing, simply glanced into the rearview mirror and flicked on the turn signal, glided the minivan around the slower-moving vehicle in front of them.

It was an old argument, and he wasnt engaging. Still, there was something else lurking beneath his silence. She read it in his narrow focus on the highway and along the tightness of his jaw. You all right? Of course he wasnt.

Just tired. It was a long weekend.

A long, horrible weekend. All those relatives crammed together in that small clapboard house, no air-conditioning, Peters mother wandering around, plaintively asking everyone where Jerry was. Im glad your brother made it.

Yep.

Not yes , or yeah. Yep . He never talked like that. He was throwing up warning signs, telling her to back off. But fourteen years of marriage made her plow straight through anyway. Everything okay between you two?

Sure.

So he wasnt going to tell her. Bonni said she saw you and Mike arguing.

He glanced at her. So handsome her breath snagged for a momentthe strong, tanned planes of his face and the beautiful blue-green of his eyes that Kate had inherited. Now he looked drawn and older than his forty years. He returned his attention to the road. She wanted to cup her hand to his cheek, but he was sending out those keep-away signals.

She crossed her arms. Mike doesnt think it was an accident.

Mike doesnt know what hes talking about.

He has a point, though. It is strange your father wasnt wearing blaze orange.

What are you suggesting, Ann? Suicide by hunter? Give me a break.

She should have, but she couldnt let it go. The questions piled up inside her, three days worth of strangers whispering, three days of Peters mother tugging at Anns sleeve. Things have gotten so bad with your mom, Peter. I had no idea. This morning, she told Maddie that her parents must be looking for her and that shed better run along home. You should have seen the hurt look on Maddies face. Ann shook her head. It just breaks my heart. We cant leave her like this.

Bonni will check in on her.

Checking ins not enough. She needs round-the-clock care.

The rain had stopped. A watery sunshine glinted through the clouds. Peter switched off the wipers. I dont want to talk about it. Especially with the girls in the car.

You mean the girls who are sound asleep?

Ann.

Maybe she was pushing too hard. She leaned her forehead against the window and watched a hawk spin circles high above. You sure you need to go into the field tomorrow? Maybe one of your students can go in your place.

Ive got no choice. Hunters are nervous enough right now without me sending in some twenty-year-old.

Because of the bird flu?

Exactly.

Do you think youll find anything?

He shifted position. Probably. But its not an isolated case thats a problem.

Its a cluster of cases.

Right.

The hawk grew smaller and smaller, a smudged dot that eventually disappeared, no doubt to perch on a branch somewhere and watch for prey. I forgot to tell you, things were so rushed Friday, but that interview came through.

At Maddies school?

She nodded. I go in next week to meet with the principal. I keep thinking, what if I dont get the job? Then I think, what if I do?

Youll be fine.

I havent worked in, God, twelve years.

How hard can it be?

She flashed him an irritated look, but he was staring straight ahead. Its not finger painting and Popsicle sticks, Peter.

I just meant I know you can do it.

Its theory and history, too. What if I teach above their heads? What if theyre bored? What if Maddie hates me being her art teacher?

There must be some part of you thats looking forward to it. Did she want to talk about this? Its the whole thing. Im not sure I can do it.

You mean art in general?

Exactly.

He heaved a sigh. She heard the impatience in it. Its been a long time, he said.

Nine years. An eternity. A blink.

Maybe youre ready, Ann.

In other words, I should be ready.

He lifted his hands briefly from the steering wheel. I give up .

Whatever.

The hills undulated by, the woods fiery red and burnt orange. She caught glimpses of barns and houses set high and solitary. She wondered about the people who lived there, if they were lonely.

Itd be good for you to go back to work, Peter said. A fresh start.

She nodded, distracted. They needed the second income, what with two college tuitions coming up. And everything had gotten so frighteningly expensive, especially gas. It was costing as much to fill up the minivan as it was to take everyone out to dinner and the movies.

Actually. He cleared his throat. We could both use a fresh start.

She turned to him, worried by the strangeness in his voice.

Okay.

Not okay, Ann. It hasnt been okay for a long time.

What does that mean? What are you talking about? But she knew. This quiet autumn day had suddenly become strange, queered by intensity and the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

I think we need some time apart.

She stared at his profile, speechless, feeling her heartbeat accelerate. He was suddenly a stranger to her. The seatbelt slid down her arm, she was skewed so sideways. You dont mean that.

I have to.

I thought we were doing okay. Not good but better. Maybe this weekend had been the last straw. Was it just his fathers death? Or had he been thinking about this for a while? How could she not have known? How foolish shed been, taking things for granted, being her clumsy, pushy self. Shed been too harsh about his fathers death. Maybe she should have been kinder, but shed never really liked the man.

Dad was sixty-two. Sixty-two. Peter gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. There were so many things he never got to do. So many things he put off. Going to Gettysburg. Seeing the Vietnam Memorial. Finishing that tree house for our girls. I stood there and watched them put his coffin into the ground. He leaned back and let out a breath. I dont want to be that man. I dont want to live like he did.