She took the quilt off the bed in the room that should have been Verna’s. She couldn’t bring herself to take Bernie’s, even though it was a single. In the kitchen she got a Mason jar and filled it with water, grabbed the wax-paper-wrapped sandwich, and crept out to the sugar shack.
She pushed open the door. “Daddy?”
“I thought you wasn’t ever coming.” She couldn’t see his face, just the shape of him sitting on the floor, leaning against the case of encyclopedias.
“I had to wait until Grandma was asleep. I didn’t think you wanted me to tell her you were here.”
“No. No. I’m sorry. I’m just starving to death. What you got?”
“Just a peanut butter sandwich and some water. But I brought you a blanket. And tomorrow I’ll go to the store and get something better.”
“No need for that. We’re going to be out of here before morning.”
The leftover sweet smell of years of boiled sap stung her nose, mixed with the smell of mold and sweat and—The words burst out: “Have you been smoking?”
“Just a couple cigarettes. It’s cold as hell in here.”
“What if you start a fire?”
“Verna warned me you was a little Miss Worrywart.” He gave a sort of chuckle. “I’ll be careful, promise.”
“And smoking can kill you.”
“You do care about your old daddy, don’t you?” He patted the floor beside him. “Here. Keep me company while I eat.”
She sat down beside him, not knowing quite what to say. She wanted to ask why he was here and was he really on parole, but the words stuck in her throat.
“Remember that time we went to the fair and I won that bear for you?”
“I still got him,” she said.
“You’re kidding! You still got that damn bear?”
“Yeah.”
He put his right arm, the one holding his sandwich, around her shoulder so that some of the peanut butter smeared on her jacket sleeve. “I can’t hardly believe that. You kept that bear all these years? I never.” He pulled her close and took a bite of the sandwich in front of her face. She liked the feel of his strong arm around her shoulder. The only sound for a long while was his chewing the sandwich, Grandma’s sandwich.
“I gotta go back in, Daddy,” she said, getting up from the floor.
“Hold it a minute. I got to tell you something. Real good news.”
She stood by the door, waiting.
“I’m not ever leaving you again. Ain’t that great?”
“I don’t understand. You said...”
“I’m taking you with me. That’s the reason I come back. To get my angel girl.”
She began to tremble so hard that she leaned against the door and grabbed the knob.
“Angel?”
“What, Daddy?”
“Ain’t that great news?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Why didn’t it feel like good news?