Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [71]
“Yeah.” The word came out a whisper.
“When?”
“Just a few days ago. He left a note saying he was going to join the army.”
I waited for Daddy to say something. One corner of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but wouldn’t let himself. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, but his voice was lilting, and I didn’t believe him.
He had never liked Wally; I knew that. And Wally had never liked him. But I thought Daddy would at least be worried for Mom’s sake.
“Mom’s pretty broken up about it,” I said.
He lowered his eyes to the coffee cup. His hands cradled it for warmth. “I can imagine she is.” He lifted the cup to his lips with both hands, blew ripples across the steamy surface, then sipped at it several times. When he lowered the cup back to the saucer, he said, “I wish there was something I could do to help, but . . .” He shrugged and shook his head.
“I know.” I stirred my shake with the straw. “Mom doesn’t know you’re here. How could you help?”
“That’s right.” He seemed to wince, like the thought hurt him somehow. “Listen, Roz, I’ve got a job, I’m working – ”
“Where?”
“That doesn’t matter. There’s plenty of call for construction workers around here. When I finish this job, I’ll find another. Anyway, I’m saving money, putting it in the bank. I’m not spending it on booze. Not one red cent. And I’m going to AA, just like I said I would. I’m serious, Roz, I’m not going to drink anymore. One day, when I see your mother again, I’m going to be a new man, a changed man.”
He stopped as abruptly as he’d started. When he finished his ramble, there was only one thing I wanted to know.
“When will you see Mom again?”
He shook his head and sipped his coffee loudly before answering. “When the time is right,” he murmured. He lifted his eyes to me, and I saw a kind of desperation in them.
“How will you know when the time is right?”
“I’ll just know.”
I thought of Tom Barrows. I thought of how Mom didn’t care if she loved him or not, how all she wanted was stability, whatever that meant for her. Probably a man who didn’t drink, a man who wasn’t angry, who brought home a paycheck, who worked so she didn’t have to, who put money in the bank and still had money to spend. Tom Barrows was all those things, and maybe someday Daddy could be too if he worked at it the way he said he would. But if Daddy took too long, it would be too late. Tom Barrows would have already burrowed his way into our household, claiming Daddy’s spot for himself.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, Little Rose?”
But then I thought better of it. He didn’t need to know about Tom Barrows. Not yet, anyway.
His eyes grew small as he asked, “What is it, Roz?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Never mind.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.” He pulled a napkin out of the shiny aluminum holder and started rubbing circles on the table where my milk shake had dripped. “So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“We’re going to Grandpa’s, same as last year. Only this year I guess we don’t have to travel so far.”
“Uh-huh.” The circles grew larger and larger.
On impulse I said, “I wish you could be with us this year.”
He didn’t look up. He crumpled the napkin into a little ball and tossed it aside. He didn’t say anything.
“Maybe by next Thanksgiving?” I prodded.
He finally met my eyes. “For sure by next Thanksgiving.” His voice aimed to reassure me, but the piercing indifference of his gaze chilled me to the bone.
chapter
30
Our first letter from Wally arrived the day before Thanksgiving. He had hitchhiked back to Minnesota and was staying with friends while waiting to head out to basic training. He wouldn’t tell us who his friends were, and we didn’t recognize the return address, but at least we had a way of being in touch with him. Mom wrote him back the same day, and the next day when we went to Grandpa’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, we had something to be thankful for. We knew where Wally was. His plans for joining the army hadn’t changed, but at least we didn’t feel so cut off from him.
With our plates piled high with turkey and all the trimmings,