Chapter 33

The next day, a dozen long-stemmed red roses arrived with a card signed simply “Arnold.” Zona crammed them into a vase and set them at the back of the kitchen counter, behind the flour and sugar canisters; they were already wilted by the time Arnold picked her up to go to the movies that weekend. For the rest of that month, he continued to come for meals, leaving with packages for himself and his mother, but Zona no longer talked to Emm about him with such adoration.

One day she came home from work and without even removing her coat and boots, took the ribbons out of her hair. “Mr. Timmy is gone,” she said.

Emm made tea and sat with her silently while she sipped and sniffled. He tried to exude calm for her sake, but his muscles seized with fear. An old man had just died. On the gerontology ward, and at Kingsbridge, it happened all the time. He wondered what it would be like to walk into the dining room at the nursing home and find that the seat at your table where someone usually sat was suddenly empty. Or to pass an open door in the hallway and see that the smiling pictures of grandchildren on the dresser had been replaced overnight by unfamiliar faces.

“How old was Mr. Carson?”

“Nearly ninety. Fifteen years older than you, Daddy.”

Emm relaxed, but only a little. His mother had lived into her eighties, but his father had died when he was only a couple of years older than Emm was now. Eight months ago, when Emm had fallen and couldn’t get up, living hadn’t mattered that much. He had little to get up for, other than reading the newspaper and watching the old house crumble around him. Now he had to make amends and keep his promise to Izora before joining her in the cemetery. So far, Foy was his only unqualified success. He’d done okay with two more, Darold and Garnish, three if he counted Helma. But he had to slot Bruna, Cleon, and especially Erissa in the failure column. Zona was his last chance to break even or come out ahead. Until now, Emm had worried that time was running out to find a place to live. Now he fretted that time would run out before death came to find him.

***

Zona wasn’t the only one moping around the hospital after Mr. Timmy died. He’d been a favorite with everyone on staff. To boost morale, a coworker decided to throw a Roaring Twenties party, complete with costumes. Zona’s eyes sparkled as she told Emm about it. He hadn’t seen her this excited since she’d planned her own birthday celebration. Arnold promised to pick her up on time.

Emm barely recognized the woman who emerged from his daughter’s bedroom the night of the party. Her dress was short, held up by thin shoulder straps, and covered in silver spangles that made even the lazy Riley snap to attention when they caught the light. “That’s an adult-rated dress if I ever saw one,” Emm told Zona as she twirled before him.

“Well, I am forty now.” She pursed her lipsticked mouth and fluttered her blue-shadowed eyelids, before pecking Emm on the cheek. “And I am really glad to be going out tonight.”

“You look beautiful,” Emm told her. “Just like your mother in a flapper dress.” He waited to feel sad about missing his wife, but all he felt was happiness for his daughter.

The phone rang. Zona didn’t pick it up right away. When she finally did, Emm didn’t need to listen to her end of the conversation to know what the call was about. Rivulets of mascara ran down her rouged cheeks when she emerged from her room. She unpinned the glittery rhinestone tiara from her hair and tossed it on the couch.

Emm picked it up. “Go to the party anyway,” he urged. “It’s a shame to waste that pretty dress.” Or to waste tears on Awful Atrocious Arnold, he thought. The Pushy Mr. Pembrooke. A man who cared only about himself and bulldozed any resistance. Why did Zona stay with him? An article that Emm had read years ago suddenly flooded his memory. It said that people chose mates with their parents’ flaws in an attempt to get the relationship “right.” Were he and Arnold alike?

If so, it wasn’t right that Zona ended up suffering. Emm gazed through the window at the clear night sky and asked Izora, “Isn’t it my responsibility, not hers, to correct the errors of the past? To free Zona so she can do better from now on?” A star twinkled. Emm, feeling vindicated, was ready to applaud himself for getting this one right. Then he recalled something else he’d read long ago. Dale Carnegie had written that “applause is a receipt, not a bill.” Emm hadn’t earned the right to congratulate himself yet.

He replaced the tiara on Zona, who transferred it to Riley. “I’d rather stay home with you,” she said. She changed into pajamas and bunny slippers, washed her face, and made popcorn and hot chocolate. They watched television, an old movie, Scarface, starring Paul Muni as Al Capone. “It’s our own Roaring Twenties party,” Zona told Riley, whose fur sparkled with glitter.

Emm remembered when the film came out, the year Erissa was born. Money was tight, but he’d scrounged enough for tickets and persuaded Izora to go. They hadn’t stepped out, just the two of them, in years. His mother had agreed to watch the children, and Emm was as excited as a high school kid anticipating his first date. Then, at the last minute, Izora had said she was too tired. As long as Mrs. Benbow was babysitting, she’d just as soon use the free time to sleep.

Emm had eventually seen the movie with his friends, but they were a poor substitute for a night on the town with his wife. And here he was tonight serving as a substitute for his daughter’s ruined plans. He was glad he was there to make her feel better, but if Zona was counting on him to make her happy, she was bound to be disappointed. Being a father was exhausting. Forty-four years after Izora had disappointed him, Emm finally forgave her for being too tired.

***

Emm was still in bed the next morning when he overheard Zona on the phone. She did most of the talking. “No, I’ve made up my mind.” “One time too many.” “I deserve better.” “You can eat dog food for all I care.” Ten seconds later, she plunked down on Emm’s quilt, wearing red overalls and pigtails with blue ribbons. “You were right. I broke up with Arnold. I’m your girl, not his.”

She went to make breakfast. The house smelled of yesterday’s stale popcorn and today’s fresh coffee, a child’s snack and a grown-up’s drink. Emm huddled under the covers, pleased that Zona had taken his advice, yet terrified of the pressure she was putting on him. Could he do what rehab programs promised, provide a safe space for Zona to recover and then set off on her own? Once more, Emm questioned his energy for taking on the belated task of fatherhood. Suppose Zona got stuck? Would he have the strength to push her out of the nest? Would he want to?

He went into the kitchen. Zona’s face lit up. “Daddy, you got here without your walker.” Emm looked down, surprised. He’d been so preoccupied, he’d forgotten to use it. He gripped the table before lowering himself into a chair.

“You see,” said Zona, setting out plates. “You’re growing stronger here. I’m helping you and you can help me. We don’t need anyone else.”

Emm put his hand over hers. The silver nail polish she’d put on for the party was already chipped. “It’s been a long time since my children counted on me, and that was to put food on the table, not to help them be ... happy. I’m touched in a way I never thought possible, but in all honesty, I’m uneasy about your depending on me. I’m not going to be around forever.”

“I intend to keep you alive as long as possible. We don’t have to live out here. I’ll move us to the city so you’ll be closer to doctors and hospitals.” Zona looked at the dog. “If I have to, I’ll even give up Riley to rent an apartment. No more crutches for me, and no more walkers for you.”

Emm was aware of his heart, but he couldn’t tell if it was bursting with joy or collapsing under a huge weight. “We don’t have to decide right away,” he said, listening to the clock ticking.

***

It was a week later. Zona was due home in an hour. Three times that day, Emm had picked up the phone to call Eudora Cray, torn over his decision. Fifty years ago, he’d needed children to win the Derby. Once he’d lost, he didn’t care that they needed him. Now, he needed them again, but he also appreciated what it meant to be needed by them. Mrs. Cray would ask once more what Emm had learned these past nine months. This time he had an answer: fatherhood was not measured in big prizes, but in small gifts of love. Mr. Carnegie himself couldn’t have said it better.

Knowing this, however, wasn’t enough to help Emm figure out what to do. He lifted the receiver a fourth time and heard Mrs. Cray’s cheery yet firm voice. He told her things with Zona were going better than expected. “The child I least wanted to live with might work out the best.”

Mrs. Cray was glad to hear it. “Have you found the right quote to capture your feelings?”

“‘We are all dreaming of a magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses blooming outside our windows today,’” said Emm. He looked outside at the winter landscape. He was pretty certain he’d still be around in the spring, but he needed to make a decision before then.

The sun was setting. Emm walked to the window and addressed a golden cloud hovering on the horizon. “I’m ready to make amends, Izora, but Zona’s needs are so great. I’m afraid of losing another contest, a more important one. Help me decide. The deadline is one month away.”