What Holds Us Together by Sandi Ward

Author:Sandi Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2019-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

Peter’s Typewriter

LUNA

I’m sleeping on the kitchen rug when I hear someone enter the house and pad up the stairs.

There are footsteps coming from Donovan’s room, but I can tell it’s not one of the twins. The twins stomp and run around, but Annika moves with a lighter, slower step. When I enter the bedroom, Annika is searching, opening drawers and checking under the mattress. My woman still wears all of her winter gear, although she has taken off her boots so I can see her fluffy socks. Dust disperses into the air and hangs there, particles floating in the faint light flooding in from the snow-ringed window. Although the room is sparsely decorated, there are dirty clothes and papers on the floor, and Annika has to walk carefully to step around the mess.

She pulls something out from under Donovan’s pillow—his sketchpad. Annika pauses, curious, and I think she might open it and look at the drawings. But she’s also in a rush, so she shoves it back under the pillow.

I trot over to my woman and rub my head against her calf. As soon as she looks down at me, I dive under the bed and crawl to the far corner.

ROWR! Come get me!

Soon she’s kneeling on the floor. I wiggle back, until I’m right against Peter’s typewriter case. Annika leans down, sees me, and frowns. “Watch out,” she warns, then reaches for the handle, pulling the case out from under the bed. I follow the case, dragging clumps of dust in my fur. No matter. I’ll clean it later.

She clicks open the case. “Hmmm,” she hums softly, looking at the old typewriter. “Do you think anything’s in here, Luna?” There is a thick roll of paper held together with a rubber band that she takes out of the case and sets on the rug. I step forward gingerly to touch my nose to the papers.

Peter.

There’s a feeling—a presence—hovering near us.

I crane my head to look up at him. Peter’s ghost hovers, looking down at the typewriter. He smiles.

I’ve been waiting for her to find this.

Annika presses down one key, then the next. It makes a clack! Click! Clack!

I remember Peter using this thing. He liked to play with it on lazy days off, when he would sit in a chair, lean back with his arms folded, and think. His fingers did the work to make it go. He pressed the buttons and zipped the paper out when it was ready.

She carefully pulls the rubber band off the roll of papers and unfurls them. I watch her eyes go back and forth as she reads. Suddenly her face bursts into an expression of shock at something she has found there.

Annika reads the paper for a few minutes, unable to tear her eyes away, but then puts it down. The typewriter case is closed and slid under the bed, but Annika takes the roll of papers with her and heads downstairs.

What is that? I ask Peter. I know that’s not your journal.

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