Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [77]
His breath stopped. His chest was still. I waited. Then he said simply, “Her friend?”
I nodded, my hair rubbing static against his shirt.
“You don’t mean she’s . . . seeing him?” As he spoke, his left hand – the one that had been resting on the table – began to work, opening, closing into a fist, opening again.
I immediately began to second-guess myself; maybe I should have lied. “Kind of, I guess.”
“What do you mean, you guess?”
“I mean, they’ve gone to the movies a couple of times.”
Daddy was quiet for several long minutes. I looked up and saw that he was looking intently at the profile of Mom’s suitor, as though trying to memorize the man in detail. By now Tom Barrows had removed his suit jacket and was sitting there in a white dress shirt, the edge of a dark tie peeking out from beneath his collar. He held a coffee cup in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other.
“What’s his name?” Daddy asked.
“Tom Barrows.”
“What’s he do?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, for a living. What’s he do?”
I tried to remember. “I’m not sure. Tillie says he works for the county or something.”
Another pause. Then, “Who’s Tillie?”
Now I was really sorry. I never meant to tell him about Tillie. If he knew an old lady was living with us, he’d never want to come back. As I looked up at Daddy, our faces were only inches apart. I hadn’t been this close to him for a long time. “Oh,” I lied, “she’s just someone who comes and helps Mom with Valerie.”
“You mean like a nanny?”
“Yeah. Because, well, Mom has to work now, you know. So she can’t be home all the time, even though she wishes she could.”
Daddy looked back at Tom Barrows, then down at me. Something about his eyes had changed, though I couldn’t say what.
When he didn’t speak I said, “Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“What if he sees me?”
“He won’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He took a deep breath.
“Well, what if he stays here for a long time? I’ve got to go meet Mom pretty soon. If I don’t show up, she’ll go looking for me at the library.”
Daddy’s eyes narrowed, and his lips formed a small tense line. “Don’t worry. It’ll be all right.”
I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t say anything.
“But, honey?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re going to have to be even more careful. You and your mom, you’re not strangers in town anymore. People are starting to know you. I think, to play it safe, it might be a while before I can see you again.”
“How long, Daddy?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you’re coming back to us someday, and things are going to be better, right?”
He tried to smile. “You already asked me that, Roz. I wish you’d quit asking and just believe me.”
A small ache rose up in my heart and sent shivers down my spine. Daddy must have felt it, because he held me a little tighter.
“Daddy,” I pleaded quietly, “tell me what it’s going to be like when we’re all together again.”
I wanted to hear visions of happy Christmas mornings and birthday parties and family vacations. I wanted to hear Daddy tell me that we’d all sit down together to eat supper at night, with him and Wally both there with us, and we’d all get along and talk and laugh, and afterward Mom would wash the dishes while Daddy helped me with homework and Valerie played with a puppy that Daddy had brought home for us. I wanted to know that he’d bring Mom flowers for no special reason, and he’d tell her she looked beautiful, and she would look beautiful because she wouldn’t cry all the time anymore, and she’d never again have to cover the bruises on her cheeks with makeup or the black eyes with dark glasses. There would be none of that, none of that at all, because Daddy would be different, he’d be good, a real Daddy,