Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [51]
“She did? She asked her straight out, just like that?”
“Yeah, she did.”
“So what’d your mom say?”
Even as I thought about it, my brows came together in a frown. “She said she was too old for all that now.”
“Too old for love?”
“I guess so. But Tillie said that was nonsense. She said Mom didn’t know how young she still was.”
“So what’d your mom say to that?”
“She said she didn’t need love. She needed stability.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know.” I was sure it had something to do with Daddy, or with what Daddy hadn’t been, but I couldn’t put it into words. “Tillie told Mom stability was a good thing, but that she shouldn’t accept stability without love. And Mom said . . .” I swallowed hard. It hurt to think of what Mom had said.
“What, Roz? What’d she say?”
“Mom said she didn’t want to love anyone anymore. She said something like, ‘God knows, if I could turn my heart to stone, I would. Life would be so much easier if I didn’t have to feel anything.’ ”
Mara looked at me hard, and I could read the question in her eyes: What exactly did your daddy do to your mama that she would talk like that?
I looked away. I didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it. That was the past, and things were going to change. Daddy was going to change. He’d promised.
Mara whispered, “So do you think your mom will end up marrying this guy?”
With a heavy sigh I said, “I have to make sure she doesn’t.”
Mara nodded knowingly. We both looked out the living room window, expecting to see the dreaded object of our conversation coming up the walk at any moment.
“How come he’s as old as he is and not married yet?” Mara asked.
“Tillie told me he was married once, but his wife left him.”
“Oh yeah? Why’d she leave him?”
I shrugged. “How should I know?”
“Did they have any kids?”
“No. I don’t think he likes kids very much.”
“Oh!” Mara’s eyes widened as she smiled at that.
The clock on the mantel chimed six times, and as usual, Mr. Barrows appeared right on time. “Shh.” I put a finger to my lips. “Here he comes now.”
In another moment my mother’s suitor was at the door. I let him in and ushered him in to the living room.
“Mom’s running behind,” I explained, “because she had to work late at the store. She told me and Mara to keep you entertained until she’s ready.”
“Oh?” He reluctantly removed his hat and coat and draped them across the back of the easy chair by the window. Sitting down, he picked up the day-old paper from the footstool and snapped it open. “That won’t be necessary. I’m perfectly – ”
Mara jumped up from the couch and said, “Can we get you something to drink, Mr. Barrows? Some water, soda, hot tea?”
“Um, well – ”
“This is my best friend, Mara Nightingale,” I said with a wave of my hand. “I guess you haven’t been here in a while, because you haven’t met her yet, even though she’s been with us all week.”
Mr. Barrows turned his magnified gray eyes upon Mara and nodded. “How do you do?”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Mara said politely.
“As for something to drink, no thank you. I’m fine.” He turned to the paper again. “I’ll just – ”
“Mrs. Anthony was kind enough to let me stay here while my mama and daddy went to Detroit to visit my sister and her new baby,” Mara said. She sat back down, settling herself comfortably on the couch. She patted the cushion beside her, and I sat.
Without raising his chin Mr. Barrows peered at Mara over the rim of his glasses. “I see,” he said. “Well, that was very nice.”
“Yes, it was. And I’m obliged. Except for the fact that I could hardly sleep a wink all week.”
Tom Barrows waited a fraction of a second before asking, “And why is that, Martha?”
“It’s Mara. M-A-R-A. But that’s okay. It’s an unusual name, I know, and a lot of people don’t get it at first. They call me Martha or Marla or Marta or even Dora, if you can imagine that. Dora doesn’t even sound anything like Mara!”
“Uh-huh.” The gray eyes dropped to the paper again.
“Like I said,” Mara went on, “it’s hard to sleep around here. I don’t know how it is Roz doesn’t wake up, what with all the noise.