Promises to Keep (34 page)

“Dad – I mean, Uncle Nelson bought it – ”

“Well, what’s the occasion? Is it your birthday or something?”

I laughed. “It’s not for me. He’s giving it to Mo – he’s giving it to his girlfriend.” I looked at Daddy, but he had dropped his eyes. He was tapping the table uneasily with an index finger. “Aren’t you, Uncle Nelson?”

Daddy reached for the ring and pulled it off my finger. “Let’s put that away before it gets lost, Roz.”

I looked back up at Darlene. Her face had gone pale, and she had a look in her eyes that reminded me of Miss Fremont when I told her Daddy was married.

“How nice,” she said, but her voice was as cold as the winter wind outside, and it made me shiver. Turning to Daddy, she lifted the carafe in her hand an inch or so and asked, “Another cup of coffee, Mr. Knutson?”

Daddy waved a hand over his cup. “No thanks, Darlene. I’m fine for now.”

She went on looking at Daddy, clutching the carafe with whitened knuckles. Finally she nodded curtly and walked away.

“What’s got her goat?” I asked.

Daddy shrugged, glanced at Darlene, back at me. “Women are funny, Roz. I never know what they’re thinking. But anyway . . . listen, honey, I’m going to need your help getting this ring to your mom.”

I nodded agreeably. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well, here’s my plan. I want her to come downstairs on February 29, and I want her to find this waiting for her at her place at the kitchen table. That’s the lucky day, you know. It comes only once in four years.”

Another nod from me.

“It’s the day I’m going to ask her to let me come home. I’m going to write her a letter explaining everything – how I’ve been going to AA, how I’m a different person, how I’m going to make it work this time.”

When he paused a moment, I asked, “So what do you need me to do?”

He smiled and winked. “I need you to do two things, honey. The first is this . . .” He pulled a napkin from the dispenser and laid it in front of me, along with a pen he plucked out of his shirt pocket. “I want you to draw a picture of the inside of your house, you know, showing me where all the rooms are.”

I took the pen, clicked it open. “How come?”

“Well, I’m trying to decide whether we’ll keep this house or buy a different one.”

“So we’re staying here in Mills River?”

He nodded. “I kind of like it here. Don’t you?”

I shrugged and went to work drawing the picture. “You want the upstairs too, Daddy?”

“Yes, downstairs and up. Everything.”

“All right.”

“That’s good, honey. And don’t forget to label the rooms, tell me what they are.”

“Okay.” I looked up a moment, an idea turning in my head. “You know what, Daddy? We could sell the house to – ”

Then I remembered, and stopped.

“To who, Roz?”

Tillie, of course. She thought it was her house anyway. Now it really could be hers again, and Lyle could come live in it with her. But I didn’t want to mention Tillie right then, because Daddy still didn’t know she lived with us.

“Just sell it,” I said. “You know, to whoever wants to buy it.”

Daddy nodded slowly. “I’ve been thinking about that. I bet your grandfather made the down payment on that house, didn’t he?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know anything about that.

Daddy went on, “He must have. No way Janis could have bought a house on her own. So listen, Roz, we’ll sell the house and buy another, one we all pick out together. Start all over with a clean slate, you know?”

I smiled and looked down at the napkin. “Do you want me to finish drawing?”

He eyed my floor plan, gave me a nod. “Yeah, go ahead. Now the second thing I need you to do is make sure the kitchen door is unlocked the night of February 28. That way I can slip in and slip out again real quick. I’ll just slip in while everyone’s asleep and leave this for her on the kitchen table, along with my letter and a dozen red roses. Do you think you can do that, Roz?”

I thought a moment. “I always go to bed before Mom does. Even if I unlock the door, she might find it open and lock it again.”

Daddy leaned forward over the table. “Listen, honey, I really need your help here, so I’m going to ask you to do something that might be hard. Are you with me?”

I nodded.

“Good girl. When you go to bed, I don’t want you to fall asleep. I want you to stay awake somehow, and after your mother goes to bed, just go on downstairs and check and make sure the door is unlocked. Do you think you can do that?”

“I guess so. Maybe if I keep pinching myself, I’ll stay awake.”

Daddy smiled. “Don’t pinch too hard. But try to stay awake somehow, because this is a big thing, Roz. It’s a big surprise for your mother. It’s the start of a new life. You believe me, don’t you, honey?”

I smiled as big as I could. “Of course, Daddy.”

“That’s good, honey. I knew I could count on you.” He patted my hand and slipped the ring box back into the pocket of his shirt.

chapter
46

I did as I was told. On the night of Wednesday, February 28, I went to bed, but I didn’t go to sleep. I sat up against the headboard and flexed my toes and pinched my earlobes and sucked on Sugar Daddies to keep myself awake.

It was more important than ever, I thought, for Daddy to come home right away, because I didn’t want to lose Mom to Lyle Monroe. Lyle had come to supper that evening, and as he sat at our table eating and talking about his adventures in Bolivia, I noticed Mom listening to him with a new intensity, and I saw the way the two of them locked eyes and smiled like there was no one else in the room. Mom had never looked at Tom Barrows like that; mostly, he’d earned frowns of resignation. Now Mom’s face registered a sort of shy anticipation, as though Lyle’s brush with death had sparked off some sort of feelings between the two of them, and I realized that if my family was going to come back together, there was no time to lose.

Amid all the smiling going on, I smiled only once myself. There’d been a robbery at the boardinghouse, Lyle explained, “and several people, including Charlotte herself, are missing various items.”

“Merciful heavens!” Tillie cried. “Did they take anything of yours?”

“No, Mother,” Lyle said with a laugh. “I don’t have anything of value, so I was kindly passed over.”

“So what was taken?” Mom asked.

“Money, jewelry, a watch – items of that nature.”

“And no one knows who might have done it?”

Lyle shook his head. “Charlotte thinks it’s an inside job, though.”

“Someone at the boardinghouse?” Tillie asked.

“Yes. The police think she may be right. The key suspect right now is the new boarder Charlotte took in last week, a fellow by the name of Louie something. The police questioned him and ended up letting him go. Couldn’t find enough evidence to hold him. So Charlotte’s asked Nelson and me to be extra vigilant, just to see if we can pick up on any clues.”

“Nelson Knutson?” I asked.

“Yes, your friend Nelson,” Lyle answered.

That’s when I smiled. I was proud to think Daddy had been chosen by Miss Charlotte to help solve the crime. If he could actually help in getting the robber arrested, Mom would be proud of him too.

Nine o’clock rolled around, and Mom sent me up to bed. When Tillie went off to her own room, claiming to be tired, I knew she was just giving Mom and Lyle time to be alone together. I didn’t like that one bit, but I consoled myself with the thought that
this
was the night. Daddy was even now making plans to come with the ring and the flowers and the letter so that Mom would find them in the morning and take him back.

I wiggled my toes and hummed quietly to myself, even while sucking on a Sugar Daddy. Minutes slipped by, and then an hour, and then two. I was fighting sleep by then, growing drowsier by the minute. But I was determined not to fail Daddy. I sat straight up and dug my nails into the palms of my hands, hoping the pain would keep me awake. Finally I heard the front door open and close – that was Lyle leaving to catch the last bus back to Cisco. Then, Mom’s footsteps on the stairs. I lay back down and pulled the covers up to my chin in case she should check on me as she passed by on the way to her own room. But she must have been deep in thought, because she didn’t stop. I saw her move through the shadows in the hall and disappear.

I waited another twenty minutes. And then quietly . . . very quietly . . . I tiptoed downstairs and unlocked the kitchen door.

As I slipped back under the covers, I looked at the lighted dial of the clock by my bed. Almost midnight. Almost February 29, the day that comes once every four years, the lucky day that would change my life and make everything right again. I was so excited I laughed, but just as quickly I put a hand to my mouth to stifle the giggles. I didn’t want to wake up Mom or Tillie. Taking one last glance at the clock, I shut my eyes. Soon, in spite of my nervous excitement, I fell into a deep sleep.

I don’t know exactly what kind of noise woke me. I’m not sure whether it even was a noise or whether it was just some kind of knowing. A knowing that Daddy was in the house, and yet a knowing too that things were not right.

My eyes flew open, and I rolled toward the clock. Almost three now. I lay in silence and listened. The house creaked. A car rolled by in the street outside my window. A dog barked loudly. Louder still was my own rhythmic breathing, fast and shallow. Where was Daddy and what was he doing? Was he leaving the ruby ring on the table right now? Why was fear unraveling in my chest and twining itself around my heart?

Then I heard it. Unmistakable. A kitchen chair bumping up against the table. Daddy was down there, stumbling about in the dark. If he wasn’t careful, he’d wake everyone up and ruin the surprise. I crossed my fingers and willed him to finish and go away before he was found out.

But he didn’t go away. From the kitchen his footfalls moved over to the hardwood floor in the hallway. His steps were loud and unsteady, just like on the nights he had come home drunk.

Just like on the nights he had come home drunk.

I sat straight up in bed and listened. He was climbing up the stairs, his footsteps muted now on the carpeting but still distinct. He was coming up, and that wasn’t part of the plan.

My heart rate sped up, and my head felt light. I laced my fingers together and squeezed until my knuckles ached.

But it’s just Daddy,
I thought.
It’s Daddy. He won’t hurt you. It’ll be all right.

The padded pounding of his feet came closer, and I knew he had almost reached the landing. I sank down and pulled the covers up to my nose so that only my eyes peered out. In the next moment Daddy was framed in my doorway, a dark silhouette in a darkened hall. But only briefly. He was only passing by. He moved down the hall toward the master bedroom. Mom’s room, where Valerie slept too. Could Mom hear him coming? Did she think it was just Tillie returning from a trip to the kitchen for a midnight snack?

I pushed back the covers, held my breath, willed my frozen muscles to move. Quietly I tiptoed across the room. Even before I reached the door, I smelled the all too familiar reek of alcohol that had filled our house in Minnesota, the pungent sickening scent that was caught in the curtains, ground into the rugs, mixed into the very paint on the walls. Tonight it followed Daddy like a wake.

At the door I held my breath and peered out into the hall. Daddy had almost reached the master bedroom, where Mom and Valerie slept.

I blinked and gasped as the light in the hall came on. In the same moment Daddy whirled around, faltered, steadied himself. I saw the gun in his hand. A look of surprise lay across his face like a mask, his eyes fixed on the figure before him. Tillie, ghostlike in her white cotton gown, was bearing down on him, the baseball bat held up over her head with both hands.

I screamed. The gun exploded. Tillie stiffened, stumbled, put a hand to her chest. The tip of the bat hit the floor, and Tillie leaned on it like a cane. The light came on in the bedroom behind Daddy, and the room grew loud with panic: Valerie’s piercing screams, Mom calling Daddy’s name. “Alan, no! Alan!”

Daddy aimed the gun again, pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

And again.

Nothing. Nothing but three dead clicks.

Tillie moved forward.

Daddy slapped the gun against his palm and swore aloud. He jiggled something on the barrel and pulled the trigger. The gun came to life, exploding once again and sending a bullet through the floor. Daddy reeled, righted himself, lifted the gun once more, but it was too late.

Tillie reached him now, the bat still clenched in her hands. She swung, hitting Daddy squarely on the side of the head. The impact hurled him into the bedroom even as it thrust Tillie up against the wall, where ever so briefly, she stood as though stunned, until slowly she slid down to the floor. One wide streak of blood marked her path on the wallpaper. A second widening circle of blood stained the front of her gown.

Mom bypassed Daddy, sprawled on the bedroom rug, and rushed to Tillie’s side. “Hold on, Tillie. Hold on,” she pleaded, her voice shaking. “I’m calling for an ambulance.”