Remembering Mrs. Rossi (9780763670900) (9 page)

“Maybe I’ll go away,” Helen says wistfully. “Nobody would even care.”

“We could go to town!” The words fly out of Annie’s mouth, and the very sound of them sends shivers of excitement up and down her spine. “We could
walk
to town.” She chooses her words carefully. “I’m expecting a letter from my teacher,” she explains in a rather
wise
tone of voice. “We’ll go to the post office for my letter.”

Afterward Annie thinks about all the things she might have done differently. First of all, she would have worn shoes on her walk into town, and no one would call her
slowpoke.
(Helen wore shoes.) She would have chosen a different sort of day, too — a day without thunder and lightning. A day without soaking rain. Of course, Annie had no way of knowing all those fast gray clouds overhead would burst
just
as she and Helen turned onto Main Street. How could she possibly know a thing like that? And had she known the rain would make her so cold, she would surely have taken a sweatshirt. A nice cozy one — extra-long to her knees — to wear over her bathing suit. (Helen wore her sweatshirt — extra-long — over
her
bathing suit.)

“Help!” Helen is the first one to shriek, with the first bolt of lightning.

Annie shrieks, too, but of course she isn’t
nearly
as frightened as Helen. Well, thank goodness for Al — good old Al, soaked to his bones. Annie smiles reassuringly at Al, so he knows everything will be okay. “Come on!” she calls. “Library!”

Annie and Helen and Al run to the other side of Main Street in the rain. They run up the library steps. The library has a tall green door. Annie has come and gone through this door many, many times in her life, but this is the first time she notices the sign: S
HOES AND PROPER ATTIRE REQUIRED
. N
O BATHING SUITS!
“We can’t go in.” Annie swallows. “It’s against the law.”

They huddle close on the steps outside the library. Annie’s teeth chatter and clack, and the rain pours down. Al is not used to huddling in the rain and doesn’t seem to like it one bit. He scuttles to his feet and barks his goodbyes. Then he runs down the steps and runs to the end of Main Street. Without looking back, he turns the corner and disappears.

“Don’t be scared.” Annie’s tone is brave. “I know what to do.”

“I’m
not
scared.”

Annie smiles a teeny little
secret
smile. Helen is lying, of course. Look who’s ten and oh-so-frightened! “If you play a
game
when you’re scared,” Annie tells Helen, “it helps.” (She says it loud, with her hands on her ears, in case there is more thunder.)

“I already told you, I’m
not
scared.” Helen’s sweatshirt covers her knees, and her knees aren’t shaking with cold like Annie’s. “What kind of game?”

“There’s a good one called
secrets.
” In fact, Annie has never actually heard of, or played, a game called
secrets,
but she likes the way it sounds.

“How do you play?”

“We have to tell each other a secret
confession,
” Annie explains, as if she has played this game hundreds of times.

“But why?” Helen’s sweatshirt has a hood, and her hair isn’t dripping wet like Annie’s.

“Because if we tell each other a secret
confession,
it will stop raining.”

“Okay. But you have to go first.”

So Annie begins. “When I get a dog”— pause —“her name will be Miss Phoebe!”

Then Helen. “Once I got sent to the principal’s office when I forgot my homework two days in a row!”

Annie again. “Once”— pause —“I ate
eleven
cookies in a row when my father wasn’t looking!”

And Helen. “I’m not allowed to walk to town without a grownup!”

Annie’s eyes widen. “Yes, you are. You
told
me you’re allowed.”

Helen shakes her head.

“Are you sure you’re not allowed?” Annie’s throat begins to tighten.

“They only care about James,” Helen says, “and I’m
glad
we’re running away from home.”

“But we’re not running away,” Annie whispers. Kids in books run away, not real kids — and especially not Annie. Why, she could never be a running-away-from-home kind of girl! Not really. She
likes
her home. Very much! Four hundred forty Riverside Drive, apartment 10B, is the best home in the world! And 45 Pineapple Street in the summer, that’s the best home, too! She couldn’t possibly run away from home! Because who will cook her dinner tonight? Or keep her company when she wakes up in the night? And how can she run away without her favorite book in the world? No sir, she would never go off — not even for a day — not without
Remembering Mrs. Rossi.
The more she thinks about it, the sadder she gets. Because while having one parent isn’t nearly as good as having two, she knows she has a nice father. No, not just nice.
Very
nice. Extremely, terribly nice (even if he is a little boring sometimes), and she loves him very, very much (even if he doesn’t pay attention to her sometimes), and how lonely he would be if she went away . . .
all-by-himself
lonely . . . Suddenly, Annie wants to go home.
Now.
This
second.
She is just getting up to go home, when Helen tells the saddest secret of all.

“I hope my mother never dies.” When she says it, Helen starts to cry. “I hope my mother never dies.” Helen says it again, and now she is sobbing loudly. This makes Annie mad. What is
she
crying for? Helen
has
a mother! Right back there on Pineapple Street! Annie is so mad — so terribly
furious,
in fact — that she starts to cry and sob, too.
Mommy, Mommy, Mommy . . . why can’t you just come back? . . .

All at once, through her tears, Annie sees her father bounding up the street: running, running, looking this way, that way, running very fast, with Al at his heels, shouting Annie’s name in the rain and Helen’s.

“Here I am!” Annie flies down the steps. Barefoot but fast. Way faster than Helen, and when she reaches her father, she flings herself into his arms.

“Annie. Annie.” He keeps saying her name. “I’ve never in my
life
been so scared . . .” He is shaking and holding Annie. “The thought of losing you . . .”

“I’m sorry.” Annie can barely choke out the words. She made her father scared! She made him shake! Surely, she is the most terrible child on earth!

“There, there.” Meanwhile, her father has (quite sneakily) turned his attention to Helen.
Pesty old
Helen. “You’re okay now,” he goes on (a little too kindly).
Bratty
Helen. Why, she’s the one who started all the trouble today, and everything that happened is
her
fault, not Annie’s! Which Annie is just about to say . . . but then she remembers how
fast
he was running on Main Street . . . and how
sad
he was when he thought Annie was lost . . . and she changes her mind.

“Thank you for finding me, and I love you,” Annie whispers. She leans against her father in the rain, wishing a hug could last forever.

The storm goes on and on, all afternoon and into the night, and Annie sets the table for an early dinner: grilled-cheese-and-tomato sandwiches. She puts the cheese on the bread and layers the cheese with slices of bright red tomato. When the sandwiches are ready for flipping, she helps her father flip.

“They can’t be too dark,” she warns. “They can’t be too light. The cheese has to melt, but it can’t dribble, or you make a big mess in the pan.”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”

Annie is quiet a moment, and then she says, “I’m sorry I walked to town without a grownup.” Her lip quivers and she stares at her perfect sandwich. “I’m sorry I’m not perfect, and I’m sorry I made you scared, and I hope you don’t wish you had another little girl instead of me for your child.”

“A perfect Annie Rossi — how
boring
that would be!” Professor Rossi (as usual) laughs at his own good humor. “And as far as other little girls are concerned, forget about it, Annie. You belong to me — we belong to each other — and that’s all there is to it. On the other hand,” he goes on in a more serious way, “I don’t know
what
you were thinking.” (This is the third time, or maybe the fourth, Professor Rossi has said, “I don’t know
what
you were thinking.” As a rule, Annie doesn’t like when he says the same thing more than one or two times, but this time she knows she has it coming.)

“I did it for Helen. To keep her company,” Annie explains (again). Leaving out the other part (again). The part about whose idea it was to walk to town in the first place. “Her parents like James better,” she explains (again).

“Nonsense. Her parents do
not
like James better,” he says (again). “They were worried sick . . . just like me . . . and besides, a clever girl like you knows better than to go off like that, without a word to anyone.”

Annie nods. She is glad her father remembers she is clever.

“Running off like that is definitely against the rules. Now and forever,” he declares. “Do we understand each other, Annie?”

“Yes.” Annie bites into a corner of her perfect sandwich.

“Frankly, I think we’re not doing badly, you and I . . . considering . . . well, considering Mommy . . .”

“I wish Mommy could just be here,” Annie says. “We
need
Mommy.”

Something thumps outside on the porch. Professor Rossi opens the screen door and Al walks in. He shakes himself off.

“Hello, Al,” says Professor Rossi.

Al turns his head in surprise. He opens his mouth to bark at Annie’s father, but nothing comes out.

“He likes you,” Annie points out. She would like to say something else, of course.
See, Daddy? I told you dogs are fun and brave. Look how SOME dogs even go out in a storm to find you!
Perhaps this isn’t the day to say it, though. Tomorrow would be better — yes, tomorrow. They can walk to town, just Annie and her father. The letter from Miss Meadows will be waiting at the post office for sure, and Annie will read it out loud, and perhaps they’ll get some ice cream for the long walk home. And on the way home, she will say (in the sweetest possible way),
If we get a dog, Daddy, how about calling her Miss Phoebe?

They have cookies on the couch for dessert, and the rain comes down over Pineapple Street. Thunder clouds roll in the skies over Pineapple Street, and Professor Rossi brings out his notebook and tells Annie something that sounds to her like a secret.

“I’ve been writing some things about Mommy in here.”

“A
book
! Are you writing a whole
book
about Mommy?” Annie jumps off the couch. Now there will be two books about her mother!

“Well . . .” Clearing his throat. “I hardly think we can call this a book . . .”

“I hope the chapters are
short,
” Annie says. “I like short chapters best, with
medium
print . . . and what about pictures? You
have
to have pictures of Mommy,” she goes on. “And
me.
A picture of me with Mommy, you could put that on the cover!”

“Slow
down,
Miss
Boss.
” Professor Rossi whistles. “A
book
is a pretty tall order,” he says. “Right now, I’m going word by word . . . day by day, trying my best to keep Mommy close . . . and let her go . . . and keep her close again . . .”

“Maybe you want someone to help you.
I
could help you. Because
I
know everything about Mommy
and
I know how to be an author.”

“Interesting idea.” Professor Rossi rubs his chin thoughtfully, and the sides of his face. “Of course, we’d have to keep an eye on that bossy streak of yours”— teasing —“but all things considered, Annie, I’d be
honored
to have your help.”

“Really?” Breathless.

“Really.”

“Good,” Annie says, “and now I won’t be mad at you.”

“
You’re
mad at
me
?”

“Yes. Because you always forget to pay attention to me, and that really hurts my feelings.”

“Always?” Eyebrows up.

“Okay,
sometimes.
”

“Fair enough. I will work on paying more attention to you,” promises Professor Rossi. “Now, are you ready to read a few things I wrote about Mommy?”

“Wait!” Annie bolts across the room, to her pink-flowered bedroom on Pineapple Street. “I have to get something.”

Remembering Mrs. Rossi
is just where she’d left it this morning, under her pillow on the bed with the blue summer quilt. Annie comes back and sits right up close to her father. He reads first. Word by word from his brown notebook, and Annie loves every single word he reads about her mother. “Word by word . . . day by day,” her father had said, “trying my best to keep Mommy close . . . and let her go . . . and keep her close again.” Afterward, slowly and together, they turn the pages of
Remembering Mrs. Rossi
. . .
keeping her close
. . . When they get to the end, they go back to page one and start again.