Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [13]
Fred looked over his shoulder, then back at Tillie. “He’s a good boy, a good hard worker.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Fred. These two girls here are his sisters.”
I heard Tillie introduce me, but I was busy staring at Wally. He wore a large bibbed apron that was colored with blood, streaks of dark red splattered across a white canvas. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of it. Wally saw me and held up both hands so I could see his palms; they glistened with the same sticky redness. He smiled. I frowned.
“Wally,” Tillie hollered, “come on over here and wrap up five of your best pork chops for me. We’ll have those for supper tonight.”
Wally sauntered over, wiping his hands on the apron. He didn’t speak, but he picked out five pork chops from the refrigerated display case and wrapped them in sheets of white paper. He handed them to Fred, who handed them to Tillie.
As she took the chops, Tillie said, “You know, Wally, you could at least say hello to us, instead of pretending you don’t know us.”
Wally shrugged as he moved back to the butcher block. I knew how he felt about Tillie.
Fred glanced at Wally, then turned back to Tillie with that look that said, Kids. What can you do with them? “So listen, while I got him here under my thumb, we’ll work on the manners, all right? He’s a good kid, just a little rough around the edges. Now, tell you what, Mrs. Monroe, you accept the chops as a gift, a housewarming gift from everyone at Jewel to you.”
“Well, thank you, Fred. That’s very kind of you.”
“Now that you’re back in your house, you need to celebrate, right?”
“Come to think of it, I believe you’re right. If I were a drinking gal, I’d buy some champagne.”
“If you buy some champagne, I can promise you, plenty of people will come and celebrate with you.”
Tillie and the butcher laughed loudly, but I was ready to leave. I didn’t like seeing Wally covered in blood. Something about it gave me a feeling of dread.
Valerie must have sensed the same thing, because she started to fuss, which thankfully pulled Tillie’s attention away from Fred. We hurried through the rest of our shopping, checked out with Hazel, who plied Tillie with coupons, then loaded the wagon back up with Valerie and our sack of groceries, and headed out.
We were on Grand Avenue not far from Marie’s Apparel when I was startled by a familiar figure in the distance. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, wearing gray slacks, a blue cotton shirt, and a fishing hat. He was walking away from us, so I couldn’t see his face, but it was the hat that caught my eye.
I stopped abruptly, my sneakers anchored to the sidewalk by my own uncertainty.
Tillie took a few more steps before she realized I wasn’t keeping up. She stopped and looked back at me. “What’s the matter, Roz?”
I didn’t answer. The man had turned a corner and disappeared. Or, I told myself, maybe I was just seeing things and he hadn’t really been there at all. I was hot and tired and hungry, and Mom said sometimes when you’re not feeling quite right, your mind can play tricks on you. Even if the man was real, lots of men wore fishing hats, didn’t they? The tan hemp kind with the one brown strip around the base and all the artificial lures fastened to it like Christmas tree ornaments.
“What is it, Roz?” Tillie asked again.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
After all, Daddy was hundreds of miles away in Minnesota, wasn’t he?
chapter
5
The next morning I awoke with a sore throat and a fever. Mom stood over my bed, frowning as she shook the thermometer down.
“I haven’t found a doctor for the children yet,” she said to Tillie, who was plumping up my pillow with her beefy fists.
“She doesn’t need a doctor,” Tillie said. “I’ll take care of her.”
“Maybe I should stay home, though, and – ”
“Nonsense.” Tillie slid an arm under my shoulders, lifted me high enough to slip the pillow back under my head, and lowered me down again. “You go on in to work and don’t worry for a minute.