Shooting Stars 03 Rose Read Online Free Page A

greasy duck. It takes a few hours to make it right."
She pounded back to the kitchen and then, twenty minutes later, she returned to the living room to look out the front windows. I came down the stairway and stood in the living room doorway. She was standing there, her arms folded, glaring at the street. For a long moment, neither of us moved or spoke. Then she tamed and looked at me, her face twisted with anxiety and anger.
"I don't know why I'm surprised. Why should time matter to a man like that now? It never has before," she said.
I glanced at the miniature grandfather clock on the mantel above our small fireplace. It was now fiveforty-five. Twilight deepened. Shadows were spreading like broken egg yolks over the street.
"You go make yourself something to eat. I know you're going to the movies," Mommy told me.
I nodded and went to the kitchen, but I had very little appetite. My anxiety over what would go on when Daddy returned had turned my stomach into a ball of knotted string. Every once in a while my heart would pitter-patter like a downpour of rain against a window.
Six o'clock came and went and still we were waiting for Daddy's Jeep to pull in. Mommy came into the kitchen and banged some pots and pans and then started to put things away.
"If he thinks I'm going to make a duck dinner now, he's got another think coming," she muttered.
At six-thirty. Mommy's lines of anger began to slip and slide off her face to be replaced by folds of anxiety and concern in her forehead. Small flashes of panic lit her eyes as she walked back to the front windows.
"Where is he?" she cried.
When the phone rang, we both looked at it for a moment. Then I lifted the receiver. It was Paula, telling me she would be by to pick me up at ten after seven. I looked at Mommy. I couldn't leave her until Daddy had arrived. I thought.
"I can't go, Paula."
"What? Why not? We're supposed to be meeting Ed Wiley and Barry Burton. We practically promised. Rose."
"I can't go. My father hasn't gotten home yet from hunting ducks and we're worried about him," I said.
She was silent.
"Oh, go to the movies," Mommy said. "You're not 'acing to do me any good sitting here and clutching your hands. I'll eat something and watch television. I'm sure he's just gone a little farther this time."
"Why wouldn't he call us. Mommy?"
"Why? Why? Don't start asking me why your father does this or that. We'll be here forever thinking of answers. Go on. Be with your friends."
"Are you sure?"
"yes," she insisted.
"Okay, Paula." I said. "Come on over to get me."
"Good." Paula said and hung up before I could change my mind.
I didn't see how I was going to have a good time. but I went up to fix my hair and put on some makeup. At seven o'clock. Mommy hovered over a plate of cold salmon and some salad, but she had eaten very little.
"Two hours late. Mommy."
"I can read a clock. Rose. When he comes through that door. I'm going to hit him over the head with it, in fact," she threatened. I knew it was a very empty threat. When he came through that door, all the air she was holding in her lungs would be released and all the tension in her body would fly out. We both spun as if we were on springs when we heard a car pull into the driveway.
"See if that's him," she ordered. and I went out to look. It was only Paula arriving a little early.
Paula was tall and slim with long dark brown hair and round hazel eyes. She was the captain of the irls' basketball team and very popular in school. The real reason we were going out together was that the boy she was after. Ed Wiley, was best friends with Barry Burton. who I heard was interested in me, but was very shy. Paula had practically begged me to go out with her.
"Hi," she cried enthusiastically as soon as I opened the door.
My mother stood in the hallway, her arms folded, gazing at us and forcing a smile onto her face. Paula looked from her to me and raised her eyebrows.
"Your father still not back?" I shook my head.
"He'll be fine. Don't worry