Slip Song (Devany Miller Series) by Jen Ponce Read Free Book Online Page B

realize she wasn’t there to tell me anymore. “I promise.” I didn’t tell her that though it wouldn’t hurt so sharply, it would stay a deep ache inside her forever. She didn’t need to hear that from me—she’d figure it out on her own.
    The alarm clock blared. I banged the snooze button, then picked it up to turn it off. We could sleep in today, though there was a lot I needed to do. Just the thought of it all made me want to hide under the covers and stay in bed.
    Liam came in looking haggard. He didn’t say a word, just dropped into my bed and tucked his head in the crook of my arm. His hand slipped over Bethy’s and their fingers wove together. I hugged them both, wishing I could find a way to protect them from the world’s hurts. Stupid, I know. It’s the hurts that make us grow and sweeten the good parts of life, right?
    In the middle of the hurt, it was hard to imagine anything good.
    “I love you guys. Whenever you need to talk, or cry, you can come to me.”
    “ Love you too Mom,” Liam said in his too-deep voice. Not my little boy anymore.
    Bethy sniffed, her voice clotted. “I love you. Please don’t die, Mom. I don’t want to be an orphan. Who would we live with? We wouldn’t go into foster care, would we?”
    “No honey. No. Gramma Alice and Grampa Bill would love to have you. Or Ann. Or Uncle Travis.”
    “ Uncle Travis lives in Alaska! I don’t want to live there.” Her voice pitched high and I kissed her again, rubbing her back with my palm.
    “ It’s all right, Bethy. Gramma and Grampa live here and they would be glad to keep you. But I’m here and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
    “ Mom. They grabbed him and dragged him to the park. They killed him there in front of us. For a reason.” Liam’s voice was steady, but it wasn’t his natural voice, his happy-go-lucky cadence.
    He was right on the money. I just couldn’t tell him how right he was. “Yes. And I’m sure the cops are working hard to figure out why and who they were.” Bethy was trembling. “Why don’t you and I talk about it later, okay?” I tipped my head down to catch his eye, then jerked my eyes toward his sister.
    He looked at me then Bethy, and nodded. “Okay.”
    “ Okay. Why don’t we go down and get breakfast? I’ll bet Ann is starving and we can show her how we make pink pancakes, okay?”
    “ She doesn’t know how to make pink pancakes?” Bethy sounded so incredulous, I smiled despite the sorrow pinned to my heart.
    “ I know, it’s a travesty. We really need to educate the poor woman. Come on. Let’s save her.”
    “ Mom.” She drew out the word so it had several more syllables than it should. The pain had lifted, at least for now. We went downstairs talking about inconsequential things, forcing light and smiles into our conversation to keep the sadness at bay.
    Ann was sipping hot cocoa, bracelets tinkling on each arm. Her eyes went to mine first, gauging the emotional atmosphere, I guessed. I raised my hand behind my kids’ heads and waggled it. So so. She set her mug down as Bethy sat on the bar stool next to her at the kitchen counter. “Do you really not know how to make pink pancakes?”
    More jingling as her hand went to her chest. “Pink pancakes? Ew. No.”
    “ How could you not know what pink pancakes are? Mom, she does need help.”
    I lifted a pan down off the rack. “I told you.”
    “I’ve lived a sheltered life,” Ann said.
    For a while, all was normal in our kitchen. Liam stirred, Bethany poured and flipped. Ann and I buttered, syruped and ate. When the kids started complaining, I spelled them, making a show of teaching Ann each step with the next batch. She looked as shocked as Bethany wanted her to when I added a packet of Kool-aid to the batter.
    When the last bite of pancake disappeared into Liam’s mouth, we dumped everything into the dishwasher and cleaned up our mess. There would be a lot of company later in the day. Tom’s mom was sweet but his dad