sadness but the sadness she thought she caused others she loved, the worst kind of sadness. Maybe after a while Troo would forgive herself, but I knew she’d never, ever forget hearing the sound of the car going into that elm.
Just like I’d never, ever forget the look on Daddy’s face on August 2, 1959.
“I’m disappointed in you, Sal,” he’d said that morning. He was angrily pulling weeds out of the little vegetable garden I had begged him to plow for me. “Instead of going to the ballpark with me today, you’re gonna stay home and work on your garden. I’m takin’ Troo instead.”
“But, Daddy,” I cried. “I’ve been looking forward to this game all week.” We were going to sit in the hot sun and eat salty peanuts and hot dogs with mustard and relish and sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” during the seventh-inning stretches. It was a double-header against the Cards.
“I guess you shoulda spent less time looking forward and more time weeding. By the time I get home, it better look like somebody tends this garden. Like somebody cares about it.” He wiped his hands off on his overalls and stomped off toward the house.
I yelled at his back, “But you promised.”
He stopped for a second like he’d changed his mind, but then he just kept going toward the house.
“I hate you,” I yelled to his back. “I wish I had another daddy.”
The screen door slammed behind him.
I had visited that secret so much since he died that sometimes I worried it had left my heart in tatters that would never get mended.
Granny kept telling me time heals all wounds. I didn’t know about that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Mother always said a house was nothing but a reflection of its occupants. She was right, because Rasmussen’s house also reminded me of a chocolate-covered cherry, even better on the inside than the outside. It was clean and organized like a classroom. Only it didn’t smell like books or poster paint or rubber boots. It smelled like all those flowers Rasmussen had growing in his garden and like that puppy dog Lizzie.
While we carried our clothes boxes through Rasmussen’s front door, Nell told us that he and Eddie would move some other stuff, like our dresser and the little lamp, later on, and for tonight we could sleep over in Mrs. Galecki’s screened porch. That was something everybody knew we really loved to do, especially Troo, who liked to watch the fireflies when she fell asleep, like they were a nightlight that made her feel safe and just so. Nell said that Rasmussen told her that me and Troo could each have our own bedroom, but I told her to tell Rasmussen no thank you, because I didn’t think either one of us could fall asleep if we didn’t rub each other’s backs. But really, I was probably just being sinfully selfish because I just couldn’t wake up in the middle of the night like I did sometimes with the Creature of the Black Lagoon chasin’ me all over the place and not have Troo next to me, making that noise she made when she sucked on her fingers, her baby doll Annie looking at me with those wide-open eyes like we’d just met.
So just like that, like we had been shot through space to another planet, the next morning we were sitting at Rasmussen’s very modern yellow Formica kitchen table that I knew Troo just adored even though you would have to chain her down and drip water on her forehead for six days to get her to admit it. Troo felt happy about being Daddy’s only girl now. But Troo wasn’t so happy about Rasmussen being my father and the boss of this house. Like she might have to be second in command around here and she wasn’t going to say something nice about any of it.
For breakfast, he’d made us waffles with real maple syrup from up north that were gone in two seconds. And lots of bacon, too, done nice and crispy.
Rasmussen wasn’t sitting down with us; he was drinking a cup of percolated coffee and leaning against the sink in his policeman’s uniform. “So how does heading over to the state fair tomorrow night sound to the both of you?”
Mother must’ve told him how much Troo loved the freak show and he was trying to be nice. Troo found those freaks fascinating as all get-out. I thought they were a little on the sad side, on display like that, all boxed up, but Troo said no, they were different from everybody else and deserving of extra attention, which was unusually charitable of her.
“The fair sounds good,” I answered.
“Okay then. We’ll head over there tomorrow night and you two can get cotton candy and go on some rides and…” Rasmussen was clearing his throat about every five seconds, which was a sure way to tell if someone was jumpy. “Does that sound good to you, Troo?”
She looked up at him and I could practically see the mad lava coming out of her ears. “My name is Margaret.”
Rasmussen did not miss a beat. “So how does going to the fair sound to you, Margaret?”
Before Troo could go spouting off, I said quickly, “Goin’ to the fair sounds good to her, Officer Rasmussen.”
He looked right at me and showed his dimples that were a lot like mine only larger and I looked right back at him, right into his green eyes. Two peas in a pod. Suddenly it all made sense. Why he had always looked at me the way he had. He’d been missing me. That was hard for me to take in because it meant so many things at the same time.
He rinsed his coffee cup out in the sink and dried it off with a red terry-cloth towel that looked brand-new from aisle two at the Five and Dime. “You two can just call me Dave, okay?”
Troo said in a voice I had never heard her use before, a voice so cold that it gave my goose bumps goose bumps, “Shouldn’t Sally call you
It got so quiet then that all you could hear was the ticking of the kitchen clock that hung on the wall behind the stove and looked like a black cat.
Rasmussen said, “Your sister can call me Dave. I think that would be fine for now, don’t you, Sally?”
I just nodded because I was imagining how it would be to call Rasmussen Daddy. I never called Hall Daddy. I just called him Hall. And sometimes when he couldn’t hear me, a couple of other names that I would have to confess since he was going to be in jail for a long time now. I probably would never, ever do that, call Rasmussen Daddy. Maybe after a while I would call him Mr. Dave. Because Daddy was still my Sky King no matter what anybody said, and I would never, ever let bygones be bygones.
“I have to head over to the station now.” Rasmussen noticed that I was staring at the gun on his hip. I’d never seen one up close like that. “The first rule in this house, girls. You stay away from this.” He patted the holster and then plopped his police hat on top of his head. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, Troo, I mean… ah… Margaret, you don’t have to worry anymore about Greasy Al, I mean… Albert Molinari. I’ve taken care of that subject.” And like he’d turned a page in a book, he said real happy like, “It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t you two head over to the playground? And if you could later, take Lizzie for a walk. Her leash is hanging in the back hall.”
I looked up at him and his tallness. And then I looked down at my fly-like-the-wind long legs. I looked at his green eyes again. I’m sorry to have to say this, but I thought it all felt sort of good because right then, for the first time in my life, I finally looked like somebody. So because of that, and because he was being very nice, making us waffles and crispy bacon and saying he’d take us to the fair, I said, “See you later, Mr. Dave.”
I could tell he liked that by the look on his face. “See you later, Sally.” He started to leave the bright kitchen but then said very seriously, “You keep in mind what happened to Sara and Junie. I know how you two like Sampson, but I don’t want you going over to the zoo or anywhere else in the park for a while. Not until we catch this guy. Okay?”
I said, “Okay.” But Troo didn’t.
“If you need anything when I am at work, you can call me. The number is over there next to the phone. And also Ethel will help you out.” He looked back at me real quick and watercolor pink came into his cheeks when the screen door slammed shut.
Troo was sitting with her elbows on the table, her hands underneath her chin. “So Daddy really said that? You’re sure?”
