Promise Me Read Free Page A

“Thanks.”
    â€œSo how are things going at the cleaners?”
    â€œSame-old same-old.”
    â€œRox been committed yet?”
    â€œNot yet. But they’ll eventually catch up with her.”
    â€œYou know, all this traveling isn’t getting any easier,” he said. “It’s lonely on the road. I really missed you this time.”
    â€œMe too. I hate the life of the wife of a traveling salesman.”
    â€œThat sounds like a country song,” he said. “Or an Arthur Miller play.”
    â€œI hope not. At least the latter.”
    He smiled and took another bite of soup. “Me too. The latter.”

Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. I used to wonder what that meant. I wish I still did.
    Beth Cardall’s Diary
    The next morning Marc got up, kissed me on the cheek, rolled out of bed and was gone. About an hour later I pulled on my robe, then went to check on Charlotte. She was still sleeping. I opened her blinds halfway, then sat on the bed next to her. “Charlotte,” I said.
    She groaned as she rolled over. She put her hand on her head and started to cry.
    â€œDo you still hurt?”
    â€œMy head hurts,” she said. I put my cheek on her forehead but she was cool.
    â€œHow’s your tummy?”
    â€œIt hurts too.”
    I rubbed her back. “Is it better or worse than yesterday?”
    â€œIt’s more bad,” she said.
    I leaned over and kissed her head. “You go back to sleep, okay?” I pulled the covers back up to her chin, shut her blinds, then went to get ready for the day. I called our pediatrician, Dr. Benton, and made an appointment for a quarter to noon. Then I called Roxanne.
    â€œHey, girl, I can’t come in this morning. Charlotte’s still really sick.”
    Roxanne grunted. “You know that nasty flu bug is going around. Yesterday, Jan stayed home from school with it.”
    â€œI don’t think it’s the flu. She doesn’t have a temperature. I’m taking her in to the doctor’s this morning.”
    â€œLet me know what he says. I’ll ask Teresa if she can come in early.”
    â€œThanks. Marc says he’ll be home this afternoon, so if you want I can come in around two or so and work the evening shift.”
    â€œThat’s better. I’m sure Teresa would love to switch shifts. She’s young and still has a night life.”

    Around ten-thirty I carried Charlotte into the kitchen and made her some breakfast—oatmeal with brown sugar. She didn’t want to eat, so I laid her on the couch, where she could watch
Sesame Street
while I got ready for the day. A little before noon I took Charlotte to our pediatrician, Dr. Dave Benton. We had been seeing Dr. Benton since Charlotte was only six weeks old and colicky, so we had a pretty good patient-doctor thing going.
    The clinic was packed. When the inversion settles into the valley, there’s always a lot of sickness, and the waiting room was as crowded as a Macy’s on Black Friday. It took us more than an hour to see the doctor, for which he was apologetic.
    â€œI’m sorry, Beth,” he said, looking a little run-down himself. “It’s like Grand Central Station around here. It seemslike half the valley is sick, and the other half has a cough. So what’s up with our princess?”
    â€œShe came home early from school yesterday with a headache and stomach pains. She’s thrown up three times.”
    He smiled at Charlotte as he reached out to feel her neck. “Well, let’s see if we can find out what’s going on.”
    â€œMy dad says it’s because I eat too many bananas,” Charlotte said. “He says I’m a monkey.”
    He smiled. “You’re not as hairy as most of the monkeys I’ve seen, but I’ll keep that in mind. Charlotte, could you take off your glasses for me so I can check your eyes?”
    Charlotte took off her pink-rimmed