What We Keep Is Not Always What Will Stay by Amanda Cockrell Read Free Book Online

baby.”
    “Oh man, I’m sorry,” Lily said.
    I wondered how much awfulness one family could take. His mom might have had her limit.
    Jesse said, “They had a lot of testing before these two. That’s Michael under there, and this is Sarah.”
    “I’m Batman,” Michael said.
    “And I’m Princess Sarah.”
    “Good wings,” Lily said. “I’ll trade you for my antlers.”
    “Princesses don’t have antlers. Except unicorn princesses.”
    A lot of kids were out in the first dark, escorted by parents and older sisters, their flashlights making little circles of gold light. Most of the houses had their porch lights on, so the kids were going to get a good haul.
    “Come on, guys. Loot,” Lily said, beckoning Michael and Sarah toward the first house.
    “Mom’s had a rough time,” Jesse told me while they went up to the door. “I wish she wouldn’t snipe at Dad, though. The army was my idea.”
    “I guess she can’t snipe at you,” I said.
    Michael and Sarah came bouncing back down the walk and we went on to the next house. Lily was prancing and making what were supposed to be reindeer noises. Jesse chuckled. “She’s really getting into it.”
    I saw that he wasn’t walking as fast as Lily and the kids, so I slowed down to match my pace to his. He noticed, and grimaced. “Mom’s right. The leg hurts me, but I hate it when she fusses.”
    I thought it was hard to tell when being nice stopped and fussing started. And how much was it okay to talk about it? “Will it get better?” I asked. “I mean, will you get to where it doesn’t hurt?”
    “Supposedly. I’m supposed to get another one that’s even more high tech. I already feel like a robot.”
    “High tech?”
    Jesse stopped and pulled up his pants leg. I don’t know what I was expecting. One of those pink plastic legs, I guess. This one ended in a real-looking foot—I could see it under the cuff of his sock—but the rest of it was made of metal and looked like it could take off on its own.
    “I can get one that’ll let me run marathons. Or play tennis. Or snowboard,” he said. “If I did any of those things.”
    “You might.”
    “There’s a computer in the knee. You tap your toe three times or whatever, and it changes modes. My counselor at the vet center told me about it. It’s called a C-Leg.” He let his pants leg fall as Lily and the kids came running back.
    “Look! We got Snickers!” They took off again.
    By the time we’d crisscrossed the neighborhood, their pumpkins were overflowing. Lily insisted we get in her car and go over to the Arbolada, where she said the candy was even better.
    “Mom won’t let them eat this much candy as it is,” Jesse said.
    “We can take it to the battered women’s shelter tomorrow,” Lily said. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
    Batman and the princess were jumping up and down, so he said okay. Lily had extra bags in the car (Lily is always prepared) and we drove across the valley. The Arbolada is an old neighborhood full of big oaks and winding streets with no sidewalks, but no one ever drives very fast, so it’s okay. We could see lots more flashlights and hear shrieks and laughing. Lily parked the Volvo next to the old cemetery. It’s a little scruffy-looking, with wrought iron fences around it and tall marble angels and obelisks. There are even Civil War veterans buried in it. The little kids grabbed Jesse’s hands, one each, and power-walked on past it.
    “Good choice,” I said.
    “Adds to the ambience,” Lily said. “You want them to have the full experience.”
    The white stones looked shiny and ghostly in the moonlight. I wondered if I had any ancestors in that cemetery. Lots of people in the valley are descended from the old Spanish land grant families, like Wuffie, who was a Camarillo. I thought maybe this year I should come out with a vase full of marigolds and some spray cleaner and see if there are any Camarillos there. Wuffie probably wouldn’t approve—she