Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [40]
Now I knew for sure.
Daddy had found us. He was here in Mills River.
chapter
14
At recess I spotted Mara sitting under the red maple on the playground, scribbling something as usual in her spiral notebook. Rushing to her, I kneeled on the grass and exhibited in my open palm the evidence of my father’s presence in town.
“Mara, look,” I whispered.
She raised her eyes from the notebook slowly. She studied the Sugar Daddies a moment before lifting her gaze to my face. Her own face, her eyes, her words when she spoke revealed no emotion at all. Jutting her chin ever so slightly, she said, “No, thank you. I don’t care for Sugar Daddies.”
I shook my head. “No, Mara. You don’t get it. I – ”
“If you’re trying to make up with me, you’re wasting your time.”
“Listen, I’m not mad at you.”
“Well, you sure acted like it.”
“But I’m not. You’ve got to believe me. I’m sorry.”
“Is it because I’m part Negro?”
I hesitated a moment. “What do you mean, part Negro?”
“Never mind. I should have known better than to think a white girl would want to be friends.”
“But I do, Mara. I do want to be friends. Really. Please believe me.”
By now I was fighting back tears. I locked onto Mara’s gaze, and after a moment I could see her whole body give in and relax. “All right,” she said, “I believe you. But what’s with the candy?”
I’d been kneeling all this time. Now I collapsed on the grass and leaned in closer to her. “It means my daddy’s here. Here in town. He knows where we are.”
Her dark eyes narrowed, and she seemed to be struggling to understand what I’d just told her. “It does?” she asked doubtfully.
“Of course it does. Who else would leave something like this in my desk?”
“You think your daddy left those in your desk?”
“Well, yeah. It had to be him.”
“You don’t know that, Roz. It could have been anyone.”
“Like who?”
She thought a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe you have some kind of secret admirer, some kid who’s too scared to admit he likes you.” Her eyes widened, and she smiled for the first time. “Just think, Roz, wouldn’t that be romantic?”
I shook my head slowly back and forth. “No, Mara, no. You don’t get it. I know it was Daddy. This is the candy he used to bring me when he came home from work. It’s our special candy. So I know he’s here.”
She pinched her lips together so they disappeared into a small tight line. Then she said, “If that’s true, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” My voice trembled as I spoke.
“You better tell your mama.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t. I’m scared.”
“You think he might hurt you?”
I drew back. “No. Daddy wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Well then?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”
“What do you think he wants?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Ask him? How?”
“Well . . .” She frowned as she rubbed the side of her head. “Why don’t you write him a note and put it in your desk. Maybe he’s planning on leaving you something else, and if he does, he’ll find it.”
I sat straight up. “Good idea!”
Mara ripped a page out of her notebook. “Here,” she said. “Write it on this.”
I took the paper and pencil she offered me and, using my thigh as a writing table, wrote slowly, Dear Daddy.
I looked up at Mara. “What else should I say?”
“Ask him what he wants.”
After thinking about it a few minutes, I wrote, Thank you for the Sugar Daddies. Why are you here? Your daughter, Rosalind Anthony.
“What do you think he’s going to say?” Mara asked.
“I don’t know.”
Mara lifted the candy from the grass, where I’d laid it. She fingered the ribbon and said, “It was kind of nice, you know. Giving you candy and all. Maybe he wants to make up and, you know, be a family again.”
I was almost too afraid to hope. “Maybe.” The word was small, barely a whisper.
Her gaze lingered