Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [92]
“Yeah, well, I guess not. He’s not going to want you to see him drunk.”
I looked up at the large institutional clock on the cafeteria wall, hanging there above the garbage cans where we dumped our uneaten food. The bell would ring soon, signaling the end of lunch and sending Mara and me our separate ways until midafternoon recess.
Sighing, I said, “Why do you have to think the worst? Can’t you give my dad a chance?”
She chewed thoughtfully. Finally she said, “You know, Roz, I think you should tell your mom.”
“Tell her what? That Daddy’s here?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I think she needs to know.”
“But Daddy said not to tell her.”
“Maybe that’s all the more reason to tell her.”
“You don’t think I can trust him, do you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know your daddy. All I know is your mom left him for a reason.”
“But, Mara, what about the Daddy Deal? We promised we’d pray and ask for our daddies. You got yours, and now it’s my turn to get mine.”
She didn’t answer for a while. She sipped her milk and pushed lima beans around her plate with her fork before saying, “Listen, Roz, I did and I didn’t. I mean, William Remmick is my father, and I’m glad I finally got to meet him. But Grandpa is my daddy. I know that now.”
I looked away, annoyed. Just because it didn’t all work out exactly as Mara wanted and expected didn’t mean it wasn’t going to work out for me. “Yeah, well, my grandpa is not my daddy,” I said, “and I’m not giving up.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But, Roz?”
“Yeah?”
“Just be careful, okay?”
The bell rang, and Mara gave me a fearful look before picking up her tray and heading for the garbage bins.
After school I found Tillie at the kitchen table, poring over a half dozen shoe boxes filled with photographs.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She looked at me and smiled. “Johnny brought these over. He said I have to get these old photos organized and put into albums, or he’s just going to toss them. He’s right. It’s time I put everything in order. I don’t have much time left.”
“You keep saying that, Tillie, but how do you know?”
“Honey, I’m seventy years old. That’s all the years we’re allotted in this world. Anything beyond that is borrowed time.”
“But you could live to be eighty or even ninety. A lot of people do.”
“Maybe. But I can’t count on it. Anyway, when the call comes, I’m ready to go. I’m ready to see Jesus. And Ross too. In that order.” She picked up a photograph and gazed at it lovingly. “That’s Ross when he was just a young man. My, my.” She clicked her tongue. “Wasn’t he handsome?”
He wasn’t as handsome as Daddy, I thought. But I simply nodded and said, “What was he like?”
She drew in a deep breath, and her eyes took on a kind of faraway look. “He was a wonderful man,” she said quietly. “As fine a man as ever lived, I’d say. He was always kind to everyone.”
“Didn’t you ever fight and yell at each other, Tillie?”
“Me and Ross? We had our differences occasionally, but no, I can’t say we fought very much. Now, I myself might have been a fighter if I’d married someone else, but Ross – he was too mild-mannered for that sort of thing. He was a true gentleman.”
“But . . .”
“What, Roz?”
“Did he ever lie to you?”
She arched her brows. “Gracious no. What makes you ask a thing like that?”
“I don’t know. I mean, how do you know he never lied to you? Maybe he lied and you just didn’t know it.”
She laid the photo on the table and caressed it absently with her fingertips. “He was a man of his word. If he said he was going to do something, he did it. I can’t remember ever catching him in a lie.”
“So you could trust him?”
“Of course.” She studied me a moment, then said, “Roz, why are you asking me this?”
“Well – ” I pulled out a chair and sat down – “I’m just wondering how you can know if you can trust someone.”
“Are you thinking of someone in particular?” When I nodded she said, “Have you known this person for a long time?” Another nod. “Well, has she ever lied to you in the past?”
“It’s a he.”
“Okay. So has he ever lied to you?”
I thought about that for