Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [50]
“It’s not that easy. He can’t just come here and claim me. He’s got a wife and kids and an important job at a big-shot school. Not to mention that he’s got a radio show and most of Chicago knows him.”
I didn’t know what to say.
After a moment Mara said wistfully, “I’m going to become a writer and a professor, just like him. I’m going to make him proud of me.”
“Maybe he’s already proud of you, Mara.”
She didn’t respond to that. She looked away, as though studying the shadows played out across the ceiling. “If he’ll see me, the first thing I’ll do is promise to never tell anyone. I’ll swear to never tell anyone that I’m his daughter, just so long as I can see him sometimes. You know, talk to him . . . about poetry and things.”
I understood the look in her eyes only too well. Mara wanted her father, wanted his companionship and his approval. And his love.
“Mara?”
“Yeah, Roz?” Those rich dark eyes flittered down from the ceiling and settled on my face.
“I have something I want to tell you too.”
“All right.”
“It’s about my daddy.”
Just then the door to my bedroom opened, and Mom stuck her head in. “What are you girls doing up?” she asked. “It’s after ten. You were supposed to be asleep an hour ago.”
“Oh, sorry, Mom,” I said. “We were just talking.”
“Well, it’ll have to wait. Tomorrow’s a school day. Turn out that light and go to sleep.”
I hopped off Mara’s bed and turned out the light. Sliding under the covers in my own bed, I said, “Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, girls.”
The door closed and Mom’s footsteps moved down the hall. I waited another minute before whispering, “You got to promise not to tell anyone.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. As long as you don’t tell anyone about my daddy.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” I repeated. Under the covers, I ran an index finger across my chest in an X. For a swift second I remembered Daddy’s warning. But I pushed it aside. Mara could be trusted. And besides, if I didn’t tell someone, I thought I might explode. I took a deep breath and said, “You remember when we went to the library, right?”
“Sure, I remember.”
“Well, when we were there . . .”
Late into the night our whispers reached across the room, tying us together in a way that only the fatherless daughters of the world would understand.
chapter
20
That night Mara and I made a deal. We swore we would pray for each other every day, asking God to give us our daddies back. We would pray faithfully until God answered, even if it took the rest of our lives. To seal the pact, which we decided to call our Daddy Deal, we stretched our arms across the gap between the beds and clasped pinkies, swearing aloud in unison, “I promise.”
On Saturday night, the night before her grandparents were to pick her up, Mara met the greatest threat to the fulfillment of my dreams: Tom Barrows. He had been coming around regularly, taking Mom out to one place or another for the evening, and on those days he didn’t come by, he made a general nuisance of himself by calling or sometimes even sending flowers. It was pretty clear to all of us what he wanted. Although he’d known Mom only a matter of weeks, he was determined to win her heart, dull and homely as he was, and make her his wife.
“Does your mom really like this guy?” Mara asked.
We were in the living room waiting for Tom Barrows to show up. Mom was upstairs getting dressed for the evening, but she’d had to work late at the store and was running behind. She asked Mara and me to greet Mr. Barrows when he arrived, ask him if he’d like something to drink, and generally keep him entertained while she finished getting ready. She didn’t realize the mistake she’d made in asking us to do that. Neither did I, at first.
I shook my head in answer to Mara’s question. “I don’t think so. I mean, how could anyone like a guy like that?”
“Then why does she go out with him?”
“Well . . .” I paused a moment as I considered how to explain what I didn’t understand myself. “I heard Mom and Tillie talking not too long ago.”
“Yeah?”
“Tillie asked Mom if she thought she could