what you’re thinking and I know what you’re afraid of – ”
“I’m not afraid of anything – ”
“Not every man in the world is like your father.”
Wally clamped his jaw shut and looked at Tillie. “He’s not my father,” he said.
“Be that as it may,” Tillie countered, “your mother deserves some happiness. Wally, wait a minute. Where are you going?”
“Out.” Wally flung open the kitchen door, slamming it shut behind him.
I looked at Tillie, who looked at me. She shrugged, picked up the cookie cutter, and cut circles in the dough. “He’s going to have to let your mother live her own life,” she said quietly.
“But, Tillie?”
“Yes, Roz?”
“Is he a nice man?”
“Mr. Barrows? I don’t know him all that well, but he has a good reputation around town. He’s county clerk, you know. Has been for years. Works over there in the courthouse in Wheaton.”
“Oh yeah? Well, he looks kind of . . . I don’t know. Boring, I guess.”
“Maybe boring is exactly what your mother needs, after the last man she had.”
She laughed lightly at that, but I didn’t think it was funny. The last man in Mom’s life was my father. Not Wally’s father but mine.
I narrowed my eyes and wrinkled my nose. “But he’s old and ugly, and anyway, isn’t he married by now?”
Tillie nodded. “He was once. Some years back.”
“So what happened?”
“The story I heard was that one of his deputies left a pile of divorce filings on his desk. Tom looked through them and found his own, and that was how his wife let him know she was leaving him.”
“She left him?”
“She did. Poor Tom didn’t contest the divorce. He signed the papers, and even before the ink was dry, his wife ran off to Montana with the deputy county clerk.”
“The one who left the papers on the desk?”
“One and the same.”
I went back to setting the table. I couldn’t help wondering whether Tom Barrows sat on his porch steps crying when his wife left him. It almost made me feel sorry for the guy, because I was sure he must be lonely, but I was just as sure I didn’t want my mother to be the answer to his loneliness. One glance at him told me he’d never make her happy.
Tillie laid the biscuits on a baking sheet and slid them into the oven.
“Tillie?”
“Uh-huh?”
“You think Mom will really get married again someday?”
Shutting the oven door, Tillie turned to me and said, “Don’t tell me you don’t want your mother’s happiness either. You’re not like Wally, I hope.”
“No, I . . .” I stopped, thought a moment, said quietly, “I do want Mom to be happy. That’s the thing.”
“Listen, Roz, a pretty young lady like your mother is going to get married again someday. I’d bet my bottom dollar on it. But like I said to Wally, going out on one date with Tom Barrows doesn’t mean your mom is going to marry the man. Maybe she just wanted to get out of the house. Or maybe it was a movie she really wanted to see but she didn’t want to spend the money on it herself. Who knows?” She smiled and shrugged. “There’s no use trying to cross any bridges before you reach them.”
I wasn’t trying to cross any bridges. I just didn’t want Mom walking down the aisle with Tom Barrows or any other man that wasn’t Daddy. I wanted nothing to get in the way of the dream that had lately been taking shape in my mind, that of Daddy drinking the magic potion and becoming the good Dr. Jekyll permanently so he could come home again. He would come home, and we would all be a family like we were before – the way we were on the good days, when he acted like he loved us and we were happy.
I didn’t realize until the night Tom Barrows showed up to run interference that what I wanted more than anything else in the world was Daddy.
chapter
11
On Saturday morning I awoke to the aroma of bacon frying on the stove. Throwing on my bathrobe, vaguely aware I wasn’t feeling well, I moved groggily downstairs to
“I’m not afraid of anything – ”
“Not every man in the world is like your father.”
Wally clamped his jaw shut and looked at Tillie. “He’s not my father,” he said.
“Be that as it may,” Tillie countered, “your mother deserves some happiness. Wally, wait a minute. Where are you going?”
“Out.” Wally flung open the kitchen door, slamming it shut behind him.
I looked at Tillie, who looked at me. She shrugged, picked up the cookie cutter, and cut circles in the dough. “He’s going to have to let your mother live her own life,” she said quietly.
“But, Tillie?”
“Yes, Roz?”
“Is he a nice man?”
“Mr. Barrows? I don’t know him all that well, but he has a good reputation around town. He’s county clerk, you know. Has been for years. Works over there in the courthouse in Wheaton.”
“Oh yeah? Well, he looks kind of . . . I don’t know. Boring, I guess.”
“Maybe boring is exactly what your mother needs, after the last man she had.”
She laughed lightly at that, but I didn’t think it was funny. The last man in Mom’s life was my father. Not Wally’s father but mine.
I narrowed my eyes and wrinkled my nose. “But he’s old and ugly, and anyway, isn’t he married by now?”
Tillie nodded. “He was once. Some years back.”
“So what happened?”
“The story I heard was that one of his deputies left a pile of divorce filings on his desk. Tom looked through them and found his own, and that was how his wife let him know she was leaving him.”
“She left him?”
“She did. Poor Tom didn’t contest the divorce. He signed the papers, and even before the ink was dry, his wife ran off to Montana with the deputy county clerk.”
“The one who left the papers on the desk?”
“One and the same.”
I went back to setting the table. I couldn’t help wondering whether Tom Barrows sat on his porch steps crying when his wife left him. It almost made me feel sorry for the guy, because I was sure he must be lonely, but I was just as sure I didn’t want my mother to be the answer to his loneliness. One glance at him told me he’d never make her happy.
Tillie laid the biscuits on a baking sheet and slid them into the oven.
“Tillie?”
“Uh-huh?”
“You think Mom will really get married again someday?”
Shutting the oven door, Tillie turned to me and said, “Don’t tell me you don’t want your mother’s happiness either. You’re not like Wally, I hope.”
“No, I . . .” I stopped, thought a moment, said quietly, “I do want Mom to be happy. That’s the thing.”
“Listen, Roz, a pretty young lady like your mother is going to get married again someday. I’d bet my bottom dollar on it. But like I said to Wally, going out on one date with Tom Barrows doesn’t mean your mom is going to marry the man. Maybe she just wanted to get out of the house. Or maybe it was a movie she really wanted to see but she didn’t want to spend the money on it herself. Who knows?” She smiled and shrugged. “There’s no use trying to cross any bridges before you reach them.”
I wasn’t trying to cross any bridges. I just didn’t want Mom walking down the aisle with Tom Barrows or any other man that wasn’t Daddy. I wanted nothing to get in the way of the dream that had lately been taking shape in my mind, that of Daddy drinking the magic potion and becoming the good Dr. Jekyll permanently so he could come home again. He would come home, and we would all be a family like we were before – the way we were on the good days, when he acted like he loved us and we were happy.
I didn’t realize until the night Tom Barrows showed up to run interference that what I wanted more than anything else in the world was Daddy.
chapter
11
On Saturday morning I awoke to the aroma of bacon frying on the stove. Throwing on my bathrobe, vaguely aware I wasn’t feeling well, I moved groggily downstairs to
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