Phantom of Riverside Park by Peggy Webb Page A

jar. Elizabeth had grabbed a cup of
coffee then gone to Nicky’s room to help him get dressed. What was
to keep him from sneaking another peek?
    He lifted the jar lid and counted the zeroes
on the check. “If you were here, Lola Mae, I’d take you to Paris,”
he said. “The real one.”
    Something like the sound of stars singing
whispered in his ear, and he remembered how he and Lola Mae used to
sneak out of the farmhouse in the middle of the night with a bag of
cookies and a handful of daisies, and when the first fingers of
morning would chase them inside they’d streak back like naughty
children, dew-wet and sated.
    He’d been nothing till he found her, and
afterward he’d owned the world. If only she’d lived ...
    “Papa ... the cookies.”
    Elizabeth raced into the kitchen and jerked
open the oven door. Smoke billowed as she took the cookie sheet
out.
    “Open the door, Papa, and let the smoke
out.”
    His feet attached themselves to the floor,
and all he could think about was how he went woolgathering and let
his beautiful stars turns to globs of charred dough.
    It was Nicky who opened the door, Nicky who
helped his mother fan out the smoke with a dish towel. When it was
all over, Thomas couldn’t seem to quit shaking.
    “It’s all right, Papa.”
    Elizabeth slid her arms around his bony
shoulder.
    “No, it’s not. I could have burned the house
down.”
    “But you didn’t.”
    “What you ought to do is cash that check and
then you can hire somebody to take care of you and Nicky, somebody
with enough gumption to watch the stove.”
    “Why would I want to hire somebody else when
I’ve already got the best?”
    The way she said it, he believed her. That
was the thing about Elizabeth: she made you feel like you were the
most important person in the world. She made you believe in
yourself.
    He picked up the cookie sheet and held
himself tall as he walked to the sink and turned on the water.
    “Are you still lookin’ for that fellow?”
    He didn’t have to explain, didn’t even have
to glance at the cookie jar with its secret contents.
    “I’m still searching ... old newspapers at
the library, magazines, anything that might mention a
philanthropist in this area.”
    “He said not to tell.”
    “Who did?”
    “The man at the park. The one who gave me the
check.”
    Thomas could tell by the look on her face
that he forgot to tell Elizabeth, but that she was fixing to
pretend she was the one who forgot.
    “It must have slipped my mind. Refresh me,
Papa.”
    “He said it was very important not to tell a
soul. Especially not reporters. No newspaper interviews, no
magazines, no TV.”
    “That makes discovering the donor’s identity
difficult if not impossible. Whoever sent this might as well be a
phantom.”
    Nicky came into the room, a red fire truck
clutched in his hand.
    “It’s time to go, Mommy.”
    Elizabeth squatted beside Nicky. The sight of
them together made Thomas want to cry. God had given him five good
years with them, and every night when he got down on his knees he
tried to strike a bargain for more.
    I’ll do one good deed a day, if You’ll
just let me live to see him through fifth grade ... I’ll quit
hating Manny and Judith for turning their own daughter out if
You’ll let me live to see Elizabeth earn her degree and settled
into a good job
... On and on the promises would go, but Thomas
knew that when his time came no amount of pleading was going to
change things.
    “How did you know it was time to go?”
Elizabeth asked Nicky.
    “‘Cause the clock has hands.”
    Pure joy can transform a beautiful woman into
something even the angels envy.
    “Did you teach him to tell time, Papa?”
    “Don’t look at me. He’s smart as a whip,
that’s all.”
    They set off walking the nine blocks that
would take them to the park, and Thomas was proud of his spryness,
proud that not once in all the years they’d been making this same
route had he ever been the cause for delay.
    As they