Promises to Keep

by Ann Tatlock

  Mara looked pensive as she spooned out a scoop of her butterscotch sundae. After a moment she said, “I’m sorry I made you mad the other day, Roz. It’s just . . . I don’t want to see you get hurt or anything. You’re my best friend ever, you know?”

  I smiled. “You’re my best friend too. So let’s just forget about being mad, all right?”

  “All right.” She nodded.

  “After Daddy comes home you can meet him, and then you’ll see. I bet he’ll do all sorts of fun stuff with us, like take us to the movies and the county fair and . . . Hey, maybe he’ll even take us up to Chicago, and we can meet up with your dad. Wouldn’t that be something, the two of us together with our dads?”

  I expected Mara to be excited, but instead she looked uneasy. “That would be something,” she said.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you think your dad would want to get together with us?”

  Mara shrugged. “I really don’t know. It’d have to be in secret . . . you know, so his wife doesn’t find out. It’d be kind of complicated.”

  I chewed my lip a moment. “Well, I’m just dreaming. What’s that poem by that guy you like? The one about holding on to dreams?”

  “Uh-huh. You mean Langston Hughes.” She looked thoughtful as she paused to lick some butterscotch off the stem of her spoon. “Yeah, he said if you let your dreams die, life becomes a broken-winged bird that can’t fly.”

  “Yup, that’s the one.”

  Mara nodded slowly, then looked straight at me. “You know, Roz, I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, maybe it depends on the dream, you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes it may be the dream that keeps you from flying, if it’s the wrong dream to have.”

  Several long seconds passed before I said, “Sometimes I don’t get you, Mara. I don’t get what you mean.”

  “Never mind, Roz,” she said, lifting her shoulders in a tiny shrug. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

  “I think you think too much.”

  We laughed a little at that, and Mara said, “Yeah, maybe we could spend a day in Chicago with our dads. That would be something.”

  “It sure would,” I agreed. “Hey, when Mom comes to pick me up, do you want to come over for a while?”

  Mara nodded. “Sure.”

  “You can call your mom from our house and tell her we’ll bring you home later.”

  “All right.”

  “Or maybe you could spend the night. No, I know, maybe you could just live with us!” I said with a laugh. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  “Yeah,” she said excitedly. After a moment, though, she added, “But I’d miss my mom and dad.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “So I guess I’ll just go on living with them.”

  I nodded. We smiled at each other and went on eating our ice cream.

  Even though Daddy was married, Miss Fremont still allowed him to come into the classroom to leave notes in my desk. I found one there on Thursday morning, February 22, exactly one week before leap year day. Can you meet me at the café after school today? he asked.

  I could and I would. At the end of the day, I took the school bus to the public library, then walked from there to Hot Diggity Dog. The trek was no easy task, since I was headed into the wind. Nearly frozen by the time I arrived, I didn’t bother to take off my coat when I slid into the booth.

  “Cold enough for you?” Daddy asked with a laugh.

  I was too cold to answer; I only nodded. Daddy hollered for Darlene to bring me some hot chocolate, which warmed my hands first and finally, slowly, my insides.

  “Well, kid,” Daddy said at length, “just one more week and we’ll be together.”

  He held out a hand across the table, and I took it. In spite of the rough calluses crossing his palm, his hand felt warm and safe to me.

  “I can’t wait, Daddy.”

  “Me either, honey.”

  “Things are going to be good this time.”

  “You know it, kid. And look. . . .” With his free hand he dug into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small hinged box. “Look here at what I got for your mother.”

  He pulled his hand from my grip so he could open the box. The lid flipped up on the hinge, like a pried-open oyster shell. Instead of a pearl, though, there was ring inside with a large red stone, surrounded by smaller stones that looked like diamonds. I felt my eyes grow wide in amazement.

  “It’s beautiful, Daddy!” I said.

  He nodded. A certain pride settled over his face. “Your mother has always wanted a ruby. That’s what this is.”

  “A ruby? Wow. It’s the prettiest ring I ever saw. Can I try it on?”

  “Sure, honey. It’ll be too big for you, but go ahead.”

  I pulled the ring from the box and slipped it on. Daddy was right; it was too big, but I held it in place by squeezing my fingers together. Turning it this way and that, I watched how the stones dazzled even in the dim overhead light. “Wow, Daddy,” I said again. “Mom’s going to love it.”

  “I think she will,” he agreed.

  “Is she supposed to wear it in place of her wedding ring?” I asked, “because she doesn’t wear her wedding ring anymore.”

  Daddy looked pained at that. “Do you know what she did with her ring? Did she sell it?”

  I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know. I don’t think she sold it. Maybe she just put it in her jewelry box.”

  “Well, if it’s gone, I’ll buy her another one.” He tried to smile, but it was lopsided and brief. “This one isn’t a wedding ring. It’s more of a . . . I don’t know . . . a promise ring, maybe. It’s a token of my promise to make a new life for us.”

  I looked from Daddy to the ring and back again. “It sure is pretty, Daddy. You picked out the best ring ever.”

  “I’m glad you like it, honey. That means a lot to me. Maybe that means your mom will like it too.”

  “Oh, I know she will. You don’t have to worry about that. She’ll think it’s the prettiest ring she ever set eyes on.”

  Before I even knew she was there, Darlene was standing over me exclaiming, “Goodness sakes, honey! Where’d you get that ring? It’s just beautiful.”

  “Dad – I mean, Uncle Nelson bought it – ”

  “Well, what’s the occasion? Is it your birthday or something?”

  I laughed. “It’s not for me. He’s giving it to Mo – he’s giving it to his girlfriend.” I looked at Daddy, but he had dropped his eyes. He was tapping the table uneasily with an index finger. “Aren’t you, Uncle Nelson?”

  Daddy reached for the ring and pulled it off my finger. “Let’s put that away before it gets lost, Roz.”

  I looked back up at Darlene. Her face had gone pale, and she had a look in her eyes that reminded me of Miss Fremont when I told her Daddy was married.

  “How nice,” she said, but her voice was as cold as the winter wind outside, and it made me shiver. Turning to Daddy, she lifted the carafe in her hand an inch or so and asked, “Another cup of coffee, Mr. Knutson?”

  Daddy waved a hand over his cup. “No thanks, Darlene. I’m fine for now.”

  She went on looking at Daddy, clutching the carafe with whitened knuckles. Finally she nodded curtly and walked away.

  “What’s got her goat?” I asked.

  Daddy shrugged, glanced at Darlene, back at me. “Women are funny, Roz. I never know what they’re thinking. But anyway . . . listen, honey, I’m going to need your help getting this ring to your mom.”

  I nodded agreeably. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Well, here’s my plan. I want her to come downstairs on February 29, and I want her to find this waiting for her at her place at the kitchen table. That’s the lucky day, you know. It comes only once in four years.”

  Another nod from me.

  “It’s the day I’m going to ask her to let me come home. I’m goin
g to write her a letter explaining everything – how I’ve been going to AA, how I’m a different person, how I’m going to make it work this time.”

  When he paused a moment, I asked, “So what do you need me to do?”

  He smiled and winked. “I need you to do two things, honey. The first is this . . .” He pulled a napkin from the dispenser and laid it in front of me, along with a pen he plucked out of his shirt pocket. “I want you to draw a picture of the inside of your house, you know, showing me where all the rooms are.”

  I took the pen, clicked it open. “How come?”

  “Well, I’m trying to decide whether we’ll keep this house or buy a different one.”

  “So we’re staying here in Mills River?”

  He nodded. “I kind of like it here. Don’t you?”

  I shrugged and went to work drawing the picture. “You want the upstairs too, Daddy?”

  “Yes, downstairs and up. Everything.”

  “All right.”

  “That’s good, honey. And don’t forget to label the rooms, tell me what they are.”

  “Okay.” I looked up a moment, an idea turning in my head. “You know what, Daddy? We could sell the house to – ”

  Then I remembered, and stopped.

  “To who, Roz?”

  Tillie, of course. She thought it was her house anyway. Now it really could be hers again, and Lyle could come live in it with her. But I didn’t want to mention Tillie right then, because Daddy still didn’t know she lived with us.

  “Just sell it,” I said. “You know, to whoever wants to buy it.”

  Daddy nodded slowly. “I’ve been thinking about that. I bet your grandfather made the down payment on that house, didn’t he?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t know anything about that.

  Daddy went on, “He must have. No way Janis could have bought a house on her own. So listen, Roz, we’ll sell the house and buy another, one we all pick out together. Start all over with a clean slate, you know?”

  I smiled and looked down at the napkin. “Do you want me to finish drawing?”

  He eyed my floor plan, gave me a nod. “Yeah, go ahead. Now the second thing I need you to do is make sure the kitchen door is unlocked the night of February 28. That way I can slip in and slip out again real quick. I’ll just slip in while everyone’s asleep and leave this for her on the kitchen table, along with my letter and a dozen red roses. Do you think you can do that, Roz?”

  I thought a moment. “I always go to bed before Mom does. Even if I unlock the door, she might find it open and lock it again.”

  Daddy leaned forward over the table. “Listen, honey, I really need your help here, so I’m going to ask you to do something that might be hard. Are you with me?”

  I nodded.

  “Good girl. When you go to bed, I don’t want you to fall asleep. I want you to stay awake somehow, and after your mother goes to bed, just go on downstairs and check and make sure the door is unlocked. Do you think you can do that?”

  “I guess so. Maybe if I keep pinching myself, I’ll stay awake.”

  Daddy smiled. “Don’t pinch too hard. But try to stay awake somehow, because this is a big thing, Roz. It’s a big surprise for your mother. It’s the start of a new life. You believe me, don’t you, honey?”

  I smiled as big as I could. “Of course, Daddy.”

  “That’s good, honey. I knew I could count on you.” He patted my hand and slipped the ring box back into the pocket of his shirt.

  chapter

  46

  I did as I was told. On the night of Wednesday, February 28, I went to bed, but I didn’t go to sleep. I sat up against the headboard and flexed my toes and pinched my earlobes and sucked on Sugar Daddies to keep myself awake.

  It was more important than ever, I thought, for Daddy to come home right away, because I didn’t want to lose Mom to Lyle Monroe. Lyle had come to supper that evening, and as he sat at our table eating and talking about his adventures in Bolivia, I noticed Mom listening to him with a new intensity, and I saw the way the two of them locked eyes and smiled like there was no one else in the room. Mom had never looked at Tom Barrows like that; mostly, he’d earned frowns of resignation. Now Mom’s face registered a sort of shy anticipation, as though Lyle’s brush with death had sparked off some sort of feelings between the two of them, and I realized that if my family was going to come back together, there was no time to lose.

  Amid all the smiling going on, I smiled only once myself. There’d been a robbery at the boardinghouse, Lyle explained, “and several people, including Charlotte herself, are missing various items.”

  “Merciful heavens!” Tillie cried. “Did they take anything of yours?”

  “No, Mother,” Lyle said with a laugh. “I don’t have anything of value, so I was kindly passed over.”

  “So what was taken?” Mom asked.

  “Money, jewelry, a watch – items of that nature.”

  “And no one knows who might have done it?”

  Lyle shook his head. “Charlotte thinks it’s an inside job, though.”

  “Someone at the boardinghouse?” Tillie asked.

  “Yes. The police think she may be right. The key suspect right now is the new boarder Charlotte took in last week, a fellow by the name of Louie something. The police questioned him and ended up letting him go. Couldn’t find enough evidence to hold him. So Charlotte’s asked Nelson and me to be extra vigilant, just to see if we can pick up on any clues.”

  “Nelson Knutson?” I asked.

  “Yes, your friend Nelson,” Lyle answered.

  That’s when I smiled. I was proud to think Daddy had been chosen by Miss Charlotte to help solve the crime. If he could actually help in getting the robber arrested, Mom would be proud of him too.

  Nine o’clock rolled around, and Mom sent me up to bed. When Tillie went off to her own room, claiming to be tired, I knew she was just giving Mom and Lyle time to be alone together. I didn’t like that one bit, but I consoled myself with the thought that this was the night. Daddy was even now making plans to come with the ring and the flowers and the letter so that Mom would find them in the morning and take him back.

  I wiggled my toes and hummed quietly to myself, even while sucking on a Sugar Daddy. Minutes slipped by, and then an hour, and then two. I was fighting sleep by then, growing drowsier by the minute. But I was determined not to fail Daddy. I sat straight up and dug my nails into the palms of my hands, hoping the pain would keep me awake. Finally I heard the front door open and close – that was Lyle leaving to catch the last bus back to Cisco. Then, Mom’s footsteps on the stairs. I lay back down and pulled the covers up to my chin in case she should check on me as she passed by on the way to her own room. But she must have been deep in thought, because she didn’t stop. I saw her move through the shadows in the hall and disappear.

  I waited another twenty minutes. And then quietly . . . very quietly . . . I tiptoed downstairs and unlocked the kitchen door.

  As I slipped back under the covers, I looked at the lighted dial of the clock by my bed. Almost midnight. Almost February 29, the day that comes once every four years, the lucky day that would change my life and make everything right again. I was so excited I laughed, but just as quickly I put a hand to my mouth to stifle the giggles. I didn’t want to wake up Mom or Tillie. Taking one last glance at the clock, I shut my eyes. Soon, in spite of my nervous excitement, I fell into a deep sleep.

  I don’t know exactly what kind of noise woke me. I’m not sure whether it even was a noise or whether it was just some kind of knowing. A knowing that Daddy was in the house, and yet a knowing too that things were not right.

  My eyes flew open, and I rolled toward the clock. Almost three now. I lay in silence and listened. The house creaked. A car rolled by in the street outside my window. A dog barked loudly. Louder still was my own rhythmic breathing, fast and shallow. Where was Daddy and what was he doing? Was he leaving the ruby ring on the table right now? Why was fear unraveling i
n my chest and twining itself around my heart?

  Then I heard it. Unmistakable. A kitchen chair bumping up against the table. Daddy was down there, stumbling about in the dark. If he wasn’t careful, he’d wake everyone up and ruin the surprise. I crossed my fingers and willed him to finish and go away before he was found out.

  But he didn’t go away. From the kitchen his footfalls moved over to the hardwood floor in the hallway. His steps were loud and unsteady, just like on the nights he had come home drunk.

  Just like on the nights he had come home drunk.

  I sat straight up in bed and listened. He was climbing up the stairs, his footsteps muted now on the carpeting but still distinct. He was coming up, and that wasn’t part of the plan.

  My heart rate sped up, and my head felt light. I laced my fingers together and squeezed until my knuckles ached.

  But it’s just Daddy, I thought. It’s Daddy. He won’t hurt you. It’ll be all right.

  The padded pounding of his feet came closer, and I knew he had almost reached the landing. I sank down and pulled the covers up to my nose so that only my eyes peered out. In the next moment Daddy was framed in my doorway, a dark silhouette in a darkened hall. But only briefly. He was only passing by. He moved down the hall toward the master bedroom. Mom’s room, where Valerie slept too. Could Mom hear him coming? Did she think it was just Tillie returning from a trip to the kitchen for a midnight snack?

  I pushed back the covers, held my breath, willed my frozen muscles to move. Quietly I tiptoed across the room. Even before I reached the door, I smelled the all too familiar reek of alcohol that had filled our house in Minnesota, the pungent sickening scent that was caught in the curtains, ground into the rugs, mixed into the very paint on the walls. Tonight it followed Daddy like a wake.

  At the door I held my breath and peered out into the hall. Daddy had almost reached the master bedroom, where Mom and Valerie slept.

  I blinked and gasped as the light in the hall came on. In the same moment Daddy whirled around, faltered, steadied himself. I saw the gun in his hand. A look of surprise lay across his face like a mask, his eyes fixed on the figure before him. Tillie, ghostlike in her white cotton gown, was bearing down on him, the baseball bat held up over her head with both hands.