Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [2]
She shook her head. “Those rascals saw their chance. I told Ross to leave the house to me alone and not divide it up four ways between me and the boys, because I knew what they’d do with it eventually. Soon as Ross died they started talking about selling the place, saying I shouldn’t be living here by myself. My falling on the ice seemed to prove their point, and from the hospital I was taken to – ”
Her sentence hung unfinished as she pulled herself up from the chair. The newspaper dropped from her lap to the porch. Both she and Mom stared out at the street as a Pontiac station wagon – brown with a white roof, wings reaching back toward the taillights – coasted up to the front of the house and parked. A short stocky man in a raincoat and fedora stepped out of the car and made his way up the sidewalk. “I thought I’d find you here, Mother,” he said, approaching the porch steps.
“What’d you expect, Johnny?” She drew herself up straighter and lifted her chin. “This is my home. Where else should I be?”
“This isn’t your home anymore,” he said, coming right up onto the porch. He looked at Mom and took off his wet hat in a gesture of respect. “Beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said. “I’m very sorry about this. I’ve come to take Mother back to the home.”
“The home?” Mom asked.
“St. Claire’s Home for the Aged.”
“I’m sorry, I – We’re new in town. I – ”
“I don’t belong in any nursing home,” the old woman yelled, taking a step backward. “My hip has healed, and I’m as strong as I’ve ever been.”
The man held out his hand. “Now, Mother – ”
“You defied me, Johnny Monroe. My last wish was to die in this house – ”
“Now, Mother, don’t make trouble. We did what we thought was best – ”
“And I aim to die in this house, whether you like it or not!”
“Oh, great,” Wally said again with another glance at me. I shivered.
The man turned back to Mom. “I’m very sorry,” he repeated. “I’ll see to it this doesn’t happen again. Come on, Mother. Let’s go without making a scene.”
“No one was making a scene until you came along,” the old woman said.
Mom stepped to the door and nodded toward me. “Roz, go get Valerie out of her crib. Take her to the kitchen and give her some cereal.”
For the first time I realized Valerie was crying and had probably been crying for several minutes. But I didn’t go to her. I couldn’t take my eyes off the old woman and her son. One moment they were exchanging heated words and the next he had his arm around her shoulder and she was allowing him to lead her toward the porch steps.
Mom, to my surprise, unlaced her fingers and laid one hand gently on the old woman’s arm. “Wait,” she said.
The two strangers stopped and looked at Mom expectantly. “I – ”
Mom shook her head. She looked flustered. “What’s your name?”
The old woman’s eyes seemed to travel all over Mom’s face, looking for a place to rest. Finally she said, “My name is Tillie Monroe.” She said it with dignity, as though the name itself commanded respect.
Mom nodded slightly. “Well, Mrs. Monroe, I-I’m very sorry. Really I am.”
For a moment no one spoke. The old woman’s lips trembled, but she didn’t have any words for Mom in response. Then Johnny Monroe lifted his hat once again, bid Mom a good day, and led Tillie Monroe down the steps.
Mom, Wally, and I watched as the two of them walked together in the drizzling rain toward the car.
Mom stepped into the house, shut the door, and locked it. She looked at Wally and then at me. For some reason Valerie had stopped crying, and the house was quiet. “Well,” Mom said, “it’s a shame, but I’m sure her children knew what they were doing when they put her in the home. I don’t think this will happen again. Let’s go eat breakfast. Roz, go get Val up and get her ready to eat.”
Wally looked out the window. “You still want the paper, Mom?” From where we stood, we could see that a gust of wind had picked it up and scattered it in wet clumps across the yard.
“I guess we can do without the paper today,” she said. “Never much good news anyway, is there?” She offered Wally a tiny smile