Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [60]
A heavy frown weighed down her brow, and she seemed reluctant to speak. Finally she said, “Did you know you were calling for him when you were waking up in the hospital?”
I had no idea. I couldn’t remember much at all about waking up after the surgery. Shaking my head, I pointed to my throat.
“Yes,” Mom said, understanding. “You weren’t exactly calling out, but you were mouthing the word, and it was clear what you were saying.”
I shrugged, trying hard to look innocent.
“Listen, Roz, I know a person can’t help what she says when she’s coming out of anesthesia. And I’m not mad at you for asking for your father, but . . . well, I’m worried. I know our leaving him and coming here has been hard for you, but I did it because it needed to be done. I did it to keep you safe.”
I went on staring at her and waiting.
“I want you to put that part of your life behind you,” she said. “We’re a different family now, and your father isn’t part of it. But you have to believe me when I say it’s better this way. I think, Roz . . . I think you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
I hesitated before lifting my chin in a small nod.
Mom raised a hand and caressed my cheek with the back of her fingers. “Honey, I want you to be happy. Safe and happy, and that’s why we’re here. Do you think you can put the past behind you and we can all move forward together?”
She gave me a moment to think. But I wasn’t thinking about her question; I was thinking about Dad’s promise to change, to bring us all back together as a family. I couldn’t tell Mom about that. . . . I didn’t dare tell her. But one day she would see . . . she would see that Daddy could be part of the family and everything would be all right.
“Mom?” I whispered.
“Yes, honey?”
I moistened my lips to buy a few moments in which to work up my courage. Then I asked, “Did you ever love Daddy the way you loved Wally’s father?”
Mom’s eyes darted from mine, and her hands found each other again. She tightened her jaw and lifted her chin. “I suppose I did, once.”
“Well . . .” I paused, wincing from the pain in my throat. “Could you love him again?”
The butterflies were back, beating against my stomach. In the next moment Mom would make or break my hope. All I hoped for was a father like she had in Grandpa, one who would love me and take care of me. That was all.
Slowly Mom shook her head. “Of course not, Roz. I could never – ”
“But what if he changes? You know, stops drinking and all?”
She looked at me hard, making sure my eyes were locked onto hers. “Roz,” she said, “that’s what you have to understand. Your father will never change. Never. Do you hear me?”
I wanted to put my hands over my ears, to shake my head wildly, to cry out, “Yes he will! He promised!”
I turned my face away from Mom and shut my eyes.
“Roz, someday you’ll understand, and you’ll forgive me for leaving him.”
She kissed my cheek, rose from the bed, and left me to ponder what I was sure I would never understand.
chapter
24
Halloween night was cold but clear. In the early evening Mom bundled Valerie up, strapped a dime-store Cinderella mask over her face, and told Wally to keep an eye on her as she went around trick-or-treating. To everyone’s surprise Wally didn’t complain about taking a two-year-old up and down the streets of our neighborhood. My guess was that he wanted some of her candy at the end of the night. So did I, and I hoped she would share, as I wouldn’t be getting any of my own.
Wrapped in a blanket on the couch in the living room, I watched my brother and little sister walk hand in hand down our driveway toward the street. I sucked on a Popsicle to soothe my sore throat, but even more painful was the wedge of self-pity caught in my chest. If only I’d gotten my tonsils out after Halloween, I could have been the one trick-or-treating with Valerie.
They turned left at the sidewalk, and in another moment they were gone. I was just on the edge of crying over the unfairness of it all when I saw Mara turn up the walkway to our house. Mom met