Promises to Keep by Jane Green Read Free Book Online Page A

recently I still wanted to lose a few pounds, but strangely it seems to have simply dropped off. I guess I’ve been so busy I just haven’t eaten that much. I’m making up for it now, though.” She grins, putting the spoon down and taking the empty dish into the kitchen.
    So many things have changed, she thinks, as she quickly washes up the dish so she doesn’t have to deal with it later. Her fortieth birthday was terrifying, but now, at forty-two, she realizes she is, indeed, in the prime of her life.
    Her skin is glowing, her hair shines and she is completely comfortable in her skin. She wakes up every morning, loving her life. She has a husband she adores, children who light up her life (except when they’re fighting and driving her crazy), and work that fulfills her.
    She loves her family, her friends, her home. And tonight, as happens so often, she is amazed that she seems to be in the minority.
    For so many of the women seem to be unhappy. Not on the exterior. If you didn’t know, you would never know. You would think they had wonderful husbands, glorious children, beautiful homes and privileged lives.
    It has been a shock, these past three years, for Callie to discover how few of the women are happy with where they are. Oh yes, their houses are beautiful, but they’d really like one with room for a swimming pool . . . then they’d be happy.
    Or they adore their kids, but the live-in nanny/housekeeper just walked out—yes, she is the seventh in a row—and they can’t possibly cope. Does anyone know anyone? Filipina, perhaps? Or Brazilian—they’ve had good luck with those .
    And often, it is sharp bitterness about their husbands that takes her breath away, couched in humor of course. Always couched in humor.
    Callie puts the bowl on the draining board and goes outside to where the secret smokers are huddled on the bare teak furniture—the cushions having been put in the garage at the beginning of autumn.
    “Hey, guys.” She sits down and reaches forward to borrow someone’s glass of wine and take a sip. “Aren’t you cold?”
    “Freezing.” Sue shivers. “I have to stop smoking. I can’t stand this.”
    “Really?” Callie looks at her. “But I thought you only smoke when you drink.”
    “Right. And I only drink every day. At the witching hour. I keep telling the kids I’m just running to the postbox, and Sophie nearly caught me the other day.”
    “Doesn’t everyone drink every day?” asks Lisa. “Seriously? How are you supposed to get through the evening without some help? My husband’s not home until eight, I’ve spent the day running around like a crazy person, I’ve done homework with the kids, got through bath time and fed them, and I’m about to explode. It’s just one glass of wine, though. Isn’t that . . . normal?”
    “Exactly!” Sue says. “Callie? Don’t you?”
    “Of course!” Callie smiles, although it’s not strictly true. If she’s with another mother she’ll always break open a bottle of wine, but it wouldn’t really occur to her to have a glass of wine by herself.
    “God knows I need the wine to get me in the mood,” Sue says. “When Keith gets home from one of his bar-stops at the station, it’s a disaster. Then I’m likely to drink the whole bottle.”
    Lisa groans with laughter. “What’s happened to us?” she says, looking at Sue, then at Callie. “I never used to be able to keep my hands off my husband. What happened? Honestly? I’d be happy if I never had sex again.”
    “You said it, girl!” shrieks Sue, high-fiving her, while Callie smiles and stands up, excusing herself to go and get a frozen margarita.
    Am I so unusual? she asks herself. Is there something wrong with me? For she does still love making love with her husband. After all these years they have grown closer, not further apart, and she never feels more connected to him than when they are in bed and he is moving gently inside her.
    She cannot relate to what is going on for