Read When the Bough Breaks for Free Online Page A

a strange town, instead of going off to her sister's.
Why did she want to come back here? Should I speak to Father about her? And say what? That she asked after Eddie?
There's no crime in that. He'll say she was being thoughtful, that perhaps she'd heard about Mother. I try to convince myself that there is truly nothing to worry about.…
    Perhaps Mrs. Bates is attempting to get enough money to leave town. Maybe selling shoelaces is easier than reading tea leaves. I don't think she's a thief, and even if she were, there is nothing to steal. The egg money is safely hidden away.
    I can reason things out till kingdom come, but there's still something about her that terrifies me. The minute Mother invited her into the kitchen, everything changed. A terrible thing happened to our family.
Could she have made it happen?
She knew Mother was going to die. She as good as said so.
What does she want? Why doesn't she keep away from us?
    That night, lying in bed, listening to Eddie breathing quietly in his crib beside me, the time when I feel closest to Mother … the time when I can almost believe thatshe is in the room watching over us … the only quiet time in the whole day when I try to share my thoughts with her … I can't seem to bring her near.

“I HATE HER”
    F aces at the window, voices at the door. “Millie, it's only us.” I run to let them in, embarrassed because the back door is always kept unlocked.
    “Sorry, when I was outside yesterday, some blackbirds flew at me. I was afraid they'd fly into the kitchen. I've been making apple pies,” I say to Grace and Sadie.
    Grace begins to sing, “Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.” Sadie nudges her, and Grace colors and says, “Sorry, I forgot.”
    “It's alright to sing,” I tell them, “Mother was always singing,” but I know Grace feels awkward.
    Sadie changes the subject – she's good at things like that. “I thought maybe your father had told you to lock the door because the trains still bring so many hoboes from out west.”
    I shake my head. “He hasn't mentioned anything lately though I've heard him tell Hamish that there's nothing romantic about riding the rails. It's the only way unemployed men can cross the country to look for work. And once in a while, he's mentioned an accident – hoboes falling off the boxcars, losing arms or legs, or worse. Hamish likes hearing about the railroad police; he says if he wasn't going to be a blacksmith like Father, he'd be a policeman.”
    “Then he should have been with me yesterday,” Sadie tells us. “I was running an errand for Mother, way on the other side of town, on Fair Avenue. I saw a small crowd gathered outside the bakery. I crossed over, thinking maybe there was a special on something, like broken biscuits. Constable Albert was there. He was arresting a hobo, putting handcuffs on him. After the constable took him away, one of the women said, ‘Serves him right. There's too many like him – just passing through, looking for handouts. They cause nothing but trouble. There's folk around here every bit as much in need as they are.’ She sounded so mean.”
    “Was the man caught stealing?” I ask, and pour out three glasses of lemonade, hoping it's not too sour (I've run low on sugar this week).
    “Someone said that he wanted to buy a loaf of bread to take back on the train. He thought day-old bread cost only five cents; he didn't know the price had gone uptwo cents. So when the girl gave him three cents change for his dime, instead of the nickel he expected, the man threw it at her. The pennies hit her in the face, and the baker called for the constable. I felt a bit sorry for the man. More than likely, that was the only money he had in the world. Still, there was no excuse to take it out on the girl. She just works there.”
    “I'll keep the door locked, Sadie. I guess you never know who might come along.” I'm glad of any reason to keep the back door locked…. “I have missed seeing you