The Family You Choose Read Online Free Page A

as she walked in to her new home.
He was two or three years older; tall and skinny. She never forgot
the way he looked at her with his very dark brown eyes. It had
scared her even at the time. It wasn’t a jealous look. It was as if
he recognized her, but she'd never seen him before. "So you’re
Miranda?" was all he said.
    Michael's parents had died too. His father
Stephen had been Alex's best friend. There was a picture of Stephen
on Alex's desk in his study, where Alex spent most of his time when
he was at home. Stephen, Miranda thought, didn't look very much
like his son. He had red hair and he was smiling like he was happy.
Michael never smiled that way. Miranda thought that Michael must
look like his mother, Annabelle, but Alex had very few pictures of
her.
    Five years later, Alex thought it might be
best for everyone if Michael went to boarding school. Miranda, then
ten years old, had been so excited that she would have Alex all to
herself. Unfortunately he was home even less frequently and the
very next year he decided to send her away to school as well. She
told herself that the reason was primarily for the education, while
Michael had been sent for everyone’s safety.
    Things broke when Michael was around. Some
things were trinkets while others were quite valuable. The games
Michael liked to play usually ended in tears for Miranda, whether
his big cousin Richard was there to watch or not. He liked to call
her names, usually the little, childish names kids call each other,
although he used a word once that marked the only time Miranda ever
saw Alex angry or raise his voice. Apparently it was the only time
Michael had seen it too, and he made sure never to see it
again.
    Richard wasn’t like Michael. He was taller
and quieter, and all of the adults knew he could be trusted to
watch Michael and Miranda. He was kind to Miranda and she liked it
when he told her about things he had read or places he had visited.
She liked it when he was around in general, and not just because
Michael listened to Richard and was always a little nicer when
Richard was there.
    Richard was like a smaller version of his
father Jim, Miranda thought. They were both tall, thin and wore
glasses. They were also both serious people. Jim didn’t say much,
but whenever he did he was always kind and patient. Even Michael,
who didn’t seem to like most adults, liked being around his Uncle
Jim. Miranda concluded that the Hendrickson’s must be very nice
people, and that the same wasn’t true of the Abbots.
    Miranda didn’t have a chance to like or
dislike Richard’s mother Lucy Bartolome. She was almost never with
him. And when she was around, she never seemed to spend much time
near Richard, her own son. Some adults were like that, Miranda
knew. But she also didn’t spend much time near Jim.
    Later that year, Jim Hendrickson passed away.
Miranda and Michael sat on either side of Richard at the funeral.
It was the only time she saw Richard cry for many years to come. It
made Miranda want to cry that he never mentioned his father again
after that day. It even made her feel bad for Michael, because
Uncle Jim had been kind to him too.
    What brought happiness back to her was when
Richard’s other cousin, Jessie, was born. Jessie, Miranda decided
from there on, was going to be her sister. She insisted on holding
the baby at the christening and, with Richard hovering behind her,
walking her around like a big doll.
    Miranda insisted on frequent play dates with
Jessie, most of which were supervised by Jessie’s pretty, young
mother, Josie. Miranda thought she was the prettiest, nicest woman
she’d ever met. When they would sit and drink tea—real or
pretend—with Jessie, Miranda really did feel like she was the big
sister in this perfect little family. Even Michael was well behaved
around Josie, and Miranda was sure it was because he thought she
was pretty, too.
    As much as she loved Richard, Josie and
Jessie, she did not like Josie’s husband and