Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [79]
“Tell me, Roz, who’s the principal out at your school now?”
“Mr. Waldrop.”
“Wayne Waldrop?”
I gave a small shrug. “I think so.”
“That figures,” Tillie said with a satisfied nod. “That Wayne, he always did like the sound of a good siren. Fire truck sirens, police sirens, ambulance sirens. I bet you have a lot of fire drills at your school too, huh?”
“Yeah. It seems like it. Then we have to put our coats on and go stand outside in the cold.”
Another nod. “Pay no attention to the drills, then. Wayne Wal-drop was in the same grade as Lyle. I didn’t know him so much, but I knew his mother well. Poor thing, she told me how Wayne was always getting into trouble for pulling the fire alarm at school. And he’d go down to the fire station too and ask the men if he could ride in the trucks with them and work the siren next time they had a call. Now that he can sound the alarm legitimately, it seems he’s having a little bit too much fun with it.”
“But even Wally’s school – or the school he used to go to – they have air raid drills and fire drills too.”
“Sure, you’ve got to have some. That’s the law. But you don’t have to worry about the Russians dropping the bomb. No one’s going to be stupid enough to push the button that turns the Cold War into an all-out nuclear war. So you can just forget about that, Roz.”
Tillie poured the apple mixture into the pie pan, where the bottom crust waited. She added dabs of butter, draped the upper crust over the top, and cut slices in the dough to let the steam out while it baked. She popped the pie into the oven, took off her apron, and sat down at the table across from me.
“Listen, Roz, I know you’re not little like Valerie, but you’re still just a child. You should be thinking about good things, dreaming about the future. Remember what I told you about the moments, about how so many of them are lost?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Life goes by so fast, Roz, and when you come to the end, you don’t remember even half of it. You wonder where it’s all gone. If I were your age, if I could start all over again, I’d spend far more time looking for what’s good rather than dwelling on the bad. But then – ” she sighed and leaned back in the chair – “I’m pretty much in the homestretch at this point. I guess that’s why I cherish the good moments so much. Between now and heaven there aren’t going to be too many more of them.”
I leaned forward over the table and looked intently at Tillie. “But see, I’m afraid I’m not going to heaven like you are because . . . well, what if Mom gets the divorce and Daddy never comes home?”
Tillie looked puzzled. “What does the divorce have to do with you going to heaven?”
“Well, remember, when I was having my tonsils out, you said it all depends on who your father is, and – ”
But my last words were interrupted by Valerie crying out from a bad dream, calling for Mom, who wasn’t yet home, so Tillie had to go and comfort her and rock her back to sleep. I took my question about heaven to bed with me and forgot to bring it up again with Tillie in the morning.
chapter
34
Sometime in mid-December, Grandpa came over with a fragrant Douglas fir and a box of ornaments; Wally sent a small package postmarked Fort Dix, New Jersey; boxes started showing up from friends in Minnesota; and Tom Barrows gifted us by no longer coming around.
I was too busy to notice at first, with schoolwork, Christmas gifts, and Daddy’s absence heavy on my mind. Not until Christmas was only five days away did I realize I hadn’t seen Tom Barrows in more than a week. Mom hadn’t spoken with him on the phone either. He simply wasn’t there anymore, and I wondered why he had disappeared.
To get an answer I sidestepped Mom and went straight to Tillie. I found her in her room one afternoon, hemming a pair of pants for Valerie, who was napping on Tillie’s bed beneath the wedding quilt. I pulled the desk chair close to Tillie and sat down.
Helping myself to the butter mints, I asked, “So what happened to Tom Barrows?”
She paused