Grim Read Online Free Page A

like their dad did, and his dark hair too. But she already tipped her head to the side like their mom did when expecting answers.
    â€œShawn,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
    Shawn drummed his fingers against the plastic back of the chair. He felt huge and clumsy on the miniature seat.
    â€œMom was hurt last night,” he said.
    Megan’s forehead creased. “No,” she said. “No, she wasn’t.”
    â€œShe was hurt really bad, Meg.”
    â€œNo, she wasn’t .”
    â€œBecca and I are going to take care of you, okay? I promise that we’ll always take care of you. She loved you a lot, Meg. Mom, I mean. Mom did.”
    Shawn was getting confused. The slow, plainspoken explanation that he’d planned on now muddled itself in a rush to get out. He shut up and stared at his hands.
    â€œI’m sorry, Meg.”
    He could hear someone come into the room behind him, and knew that it was Rebecca. He wondered how long she’d hovered in the hallway, letting him do things the way he wanted them done. Or ruin things the way only he could ruin them.
    Rebecca lowered herself onto the edge of the bed and pulled Megan into her lap. “It’s okay to be sad, Meg,” she said. “I’m sad too.”
    Megan tucked her head under her sister’s chin. “But when is she coming home?”
    Rebecca’s voice caught. “Oh, honey.” She laid her cheek on Megan’s stick-straight hair.
    Shawn sat down beside his sisters. “She’s not coming home, Meg,” he said. “She can’t come home anymore.”
    â€œShe’s dead, Meg,” Rebecca whispered. “She’s dead.”
    Megan stared at the patchwork of her quilt. She knew dead. Dead was the cat her piano teacher owned, whose name was Remmy and whose tongue felt like sandpaper. Dead was the squirrel that Becky hit the first time they rode together, that they left wiggling in the middle of the street, each shouting and crying at the other all the way home. Dead was the bluebird that broke its neck when it flew into the garage door. Shawn dug it a grave in the backyard, under the hickory tree. Dead was a lot of things, but it wasn’t Mommy. It couldn’t be Mommy.
    â€œIs she going under the hickory tree too?” It was the only thing that Megan could think to ask. Shawn understood, and he started to cry.
    Â 
    Shawn carried Megan down to breakfast, but the pancakes were already cold. Matt put them into the oven to reheat. When he heard Rebecca whisper that she felt guilty for eating, he made her the biggest plate. He said that he wouldn’t leave until everything was gone, because he’d always promised Erika that the children would be safe. They sat around the glass-topped table, morning light pouring in through the big window that overlooked the backyard. Megan glanced from one face to another and back to her plate, but no one spoke. She chewed her lip and kept on eating.
    â€œI called in to check you all out from school,” Matt said when Megan left for the bathroom. He kept watching the doorway that Meg had disappeared through. “You know how kids are,” he said, almost to himself. “I didn’t want them asking about anything. Talking her down.”
    Rebecca sipped her coffee. “Are you going to work later?” she asked.
    He turned to her, offended. “The town can mind itself for a day.”
    â€œI didn’t mean that.”
    â€œI loved her too, Rebecca. Love her.”
    She had never heard it put that way: present tense last. She softened. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
    Matt cleared his throat. “Let me know what you want for the service. I’ll take care of it.”
    â€œWe can do it, Matt.”
    â€œBeck —”
    â€œI want to,” she said. “I need to.”
    He put the dishes in the sink. “All right. If you’re sure.”
    â€œI am. Take