Keeping Faith: A Novel by Jodi Picoult Read Free Book Online Page B

over to the dollhouse.
It’s not a fancy dollhouse, not like the ones her mom makes, but that’s not such a bad thing.
Whenever Faith gets too close to one of her mother’s dollhouses, she gets yelled at, and if she manages to take out a tiny chair or finger a miniature braided rug, she always thinks she’s going to break it if she even breathes the wrong way. This plastic dollhouse of Dr.
Keller’s is clearly for kids, clearly for someone to play with. Not just for show.
Ken and another Barbie, this one with hair, are crammed into the tiny bathroom of the dollhouse.
Ken is facedown in the toilet. Faith picks him up and walks him to the bedroom. She mashes him against the Barbie with hair, holding her tight.
Then she takes the bald Barbie and props her against the bedroom wall to watch.
Dr. Keller scoots her chair closer to the dollhouse. “There are lots of people in that room.”
Faith looks up. “It’s a father and a mother and another mother.”
“Two mothers?”
“Yeah. This one”–she touches the doll in Ken’s arms–“does all the kissing.”
“How about the other one?”
Faith gently strokes the bald head of the second Barbie. “That one does all the crying.”
“You’re what?”
Jessica’s face falls, and immediately Colin knows he has made another mistake. “I thought you’d be happy,” she says, and then bursts into tears.
For the life of him, Colin doesn’t know what to do. He is certain that Jessica is expecting him to do or say something appropriate, but all he can think of is the moment years ago, when the doctors at Greenhaven told him that Mariah had tested positive for pregnancy. After a moment he puts his arms around Jessica. “I’m sorry. I am happy.”
Jessica lifts her face. “You are?” Her voice shakes.
Colin nods. “Cross my heart.”
She turns in his embrace and twines herself around him like a jungle vine. “I knew you’d say that. I knew you’d see this as a second chance.”
For what? he thinks, and then realizes she is speaking of a family. He smiles at her,
past the sudden constriction of his throat.
Jessica’s eyes are shining as she takes his hand and places it on the flat plane of her belly. “I wonder who it’ll look like,” she says softly.
Colin tries to picture the face of the child they might have created. He closes his eyes, but all he can see is Faith.
Mariah straightens with a groan, having finished tying Faith’s sneakers into double knots. It is Thursday, the day for vacuuming and returning library books and buying fresh corn at the farmstand and, these days, for Faith’s appointment with Dr. Keller. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Mommy,” Faith says, “you have to do hers,
too.”
Sighing, Mariah squats again and pretends to tie the shoes of Faith’s imaginary friend.
“Mommy … she’s got buckles.”
After a moment Mariah stands. “Are we ready now?” She cuts in front of her daughter,
grabs her purse, and opens the front door.
Once Faith is outside, Mariah remains for a moment, so that her guard has a chance to walk out the door, too.
A smile wreathes Faith’s face, and she slides her hand into Mariah’s on the way to the car. “She says thank you.”
Mariah never would have chosen Dr. Keller as her own psychiatrist. For one thing, she is so organized that Mariah always finds herself checking to see if she’s left something back in the car–her keys, her pocketbook, her confidence. And Dr. Keller is beautiful, too–young, with hair the rich color of a fox’s back and legs that she always remembers to cross. Mariah learned years ago that she did not want to talk to someone like that. Dr. Johansen was just her speed–short,
tired-looking, human enough that Mariah did not mind revealing her failures. But Dr. Johansen had been the one to suggest that Faith see someone to help her understand the divorce. Mariah wanted Faith to see Dr. Johansen, but he didn’t treat children. He recommended Dr. Keller, and even called the office to help