Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [104]
“Briefly,” Tillie said. “He’s a shy fellow, that one, and a man of few words. He looked like a hound dog when I shook his hand and thanked him for what he did for Lyle. He said he was happy to help out, and then he excused himself and was gone. But Charlotte, now, she thinks the world of him. She said he’s always helping around the house . . . anyone needs anything, Nelson Knutson’s the first one there to lend a hand. She said she wished she had more boarders like him. Unfortunately for Charlotte, though, he’s given notice. Moving out at the end of the month.”
“Oh? Where’s he going?”
“Michigan, I guess. That’s where he’s from, according to Charlotte. All he told her was he’s going back home.”
Mom nodded. “I was thinking we could have him and Lyle over for dinner sometime, but maybe it’s too late for that.”
Tillie shrugged and took another long sip of coffee. “At any rate, he knows we’re grateful to him, and that’s what matters.”
“Yes. And if he has family in Michigan, they undoubtedly will be glad to have him home.”
I folded together the two halves of my sandwich and let out another sigh of relief. Daddy, aka Nelson Knutson, had proved himself. Lyle Monroe liked him. Miss Charlotte did too. They said he was a good man. He was always helping, always lending a hand and doing good deeds. He’d taken Lyle to the hospital and stayed with him so he wouldn’t be alone. Tillie was pleased. Mom was pleased.
I was no doubt more pleased than anyone.
Taking a huge bite of my sandwich, I stepped to the kitchen table. Tillie looked at me and asked, “How’s our little patient here at home?”
“All better,” I said, the words muffled by peanut butter.
“I see you got your appetite back.”
I nodded. “Yup.”
I left Mom and Tillie to their coffee and carried my sandwich to my room. Once there, I pulled the letter to Uncle Joe out of my desk, ripped it into several pieces, and tossing them like confetti, I threw them into the trash.
chapter
45
Mara and I called a truce when I told her what Miss Charlotte had said about Daddy. “Well,” she relented, “if he really does go around helping people, then maybe he has changed.”
“I’m sure of it, Mara.” I gave her a vigorous nod as I dug into my banana split. We were sitting at the counter of the drugstore’s soda fountain on Saturday afternoon. In spite of the frigid temperature outside, we’d decided to meet for ice cream. “I mean, everyone who knows Daddy likes him. And you know, Miss Charlotte doesn’t allow for any drinking at the boardinghouse. If Daddy were drinking, she’d kick him out faster than you can say Jiminy Cricket. So he must be going to AA like he said.”
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.