“He’s certainly got a good set of lungs,” Cathy said, squeezing Cecilia’s hand. Tears streamed down her face and Cecilia’s, too—tears of joy. She strained to see her son.
“What about his heart?” she pleaded. “Is his heart okay?”
The attending physician smiled over at her. “He looks just fine, but we’ll run all the tests and let you know right away.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, exhausted.
“You did so well,” Cathy said, brushing the wet tendrils from Cecilia’s forehead. “You were incredible—no epidural or anything.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Sleep,” Cathy urged. “I’ll take care of letting everyone at your office know. Plus Carol and Rachel.”
“Thanks. Sleeping certainly won’t be a problem.” Already her eyes were drifting shut. After a few minutes, Cecilia was hardly aware of the activity going on around her. She knew Aaron had been placed in a tiny bed in her room and was sleeping at her side, swaddled in a pale blue blanket with a blue knit cap on his head.
Cecilia wasn’t sure what time it was when she woke. Her first thought was that she’d given birth to her son. She’d so badly wanted Ian with her, but that hadn’t been possible. Slowly she opened her eyes and discovered that her son’s tiny crib was empty. Half-raising herself, braced on one elbow, she saw her husband sitting beside the bed, cradling Aaron in his arms.
Cecilia blinked, afraid her imagination and desire had conjured him up. “Ian?” she tried tentatively.
He glanced at her and Cecilia saw that his eyes were bright with tears.
“It is you. Oh, Ian, Ian, I can’t believe you’re here. How…when?” Her tongue kept tripping over itself in her happiness.
Her husband gave her the brightest smile she’d ever seen. “The George Washington had a transport that was headed home. The chaplain talked to my CO after I learned you’d gone into labor. I don’t know what he said or did, but he got me on that transport.”
One day Cecilia would personally thank him.
“So this is our son,” Ian said, gazing at Aaron. The baby wrapped his tiny hand around Ian’s finger and held on. “He’s perfect,” Ian whispered, nearly overcome with emotion. “I talked to the pediatrician and she put Aaron through a test they do on newborns—the Apgar, it’s called—and he scored a ten.”
Cecilia sighed, relieved and grateful.
“I’m holding our baby,” her husband said in awe. “Our Aaron.”
Ian had never gotten the opportunity to hold Allison. “I’m so sorry I didn’t make it for the labor,” he told her.
“Next time,” she assured him.
Ian’s head came up. “Next time?” he repeated.
“Aaron needs a little sister, but we’ll talk about that later.”
Her husband grinned. “Aye, aye, Captain. At your service.”
Forty-Three
It was Saturday afternoon. Allison Cox walked out of the JCPenney store in the Silverdale Mall with two of her best friends, Kaci and Alicia. The St. Patrick’s Day displays were still up and the entire mall was decorated with an Irish theme. She was joking and laughing with her friends, having a good time, when she heard her name.
“Hey, Allison.”
She stopped abruptly when she saw Anson, shocked that he’d spoken to her. He wore the same long black coat, noticeably shabbier now. His hair was messy and his boots untied. He didn’t look good. And normally he worked on Saturdays. Why was he here?
Without a word to her friends, Allison joined him. She knew something was terribly wrong even before he spoke.
“Ditch your friends,” he said, eyeing Kaci and Alicia, who were a few paces behind her.
She sucked in a breath. “I can’t do that.”
“Fine.” He turned and walked away.
“It’s all right,” Kaci said, hugging Allison briefly. “Go. Meet us at Waldenbooks at three.”
Allison nodded gratefully and hurried after Anson. He was walking through the mall at such speed that she had to run in order to catch up with him.
“Anson, stop!” she called.
He turned around but didn’t smile when he saw her.
“What happened?” she asked. Clearly something had, otherwise he would never have spoken to her. He’d kept his word to her father. “Why are you here?”
“To see you. Eddie told me you’d gone to the mall. I took the bus.” He looked past her, his eyes hard as flint. “I lost my job.”
“The Lighthouse laid you off?” That didn’t make sense. Her father had checked on how he was doing, and Seth Gunderson had said Anson was conscientious and diligent in his work habits. There was even talk of promoting him from dishwasher to working as a prep cook. Her father seemed pleased that his faith in Anson had been well placed.
“Does this have anything to do with Tony?”
Anson frowned. “Who told you about him and me?”
“My dad. Mr. Gunderson mentioned that the two of you weren’t getting along. Is he involved in…in getting you fired?”
“Probably.”
“Did they give you a reason?” she said, her hand on his sleeve. Anson was so cold and angry and with his whole Goth regalia, including the heavy pewter cross he wore around his neck, people obviously found him menacing. Shoppers gave them a wide berth as they stood outside the food court.
Anson refused to meet her gaze. “They said it was reduction in force.”
“Maybe business slacked off,” she said, thinking quickly. “That happens, you know.”
“It was an excuse.” His eyes narrowed as he spoke.
“Do you think there was another reason?” she asked softly, her hand still on his arm.
For the first time he looked directly at her. But this boy wasn’t the Anson she knew. He was irate and resentful, and she felt as though every bit of his fury was directed at her. Allison nearly dropped her hand and stepped back.
“Mr. Gunderson thinks I took something that didn’t belong to me. He thinks I took cash out of his office.”
Allison had the sudden urge to sit down. She walked over to an empty table and pulled out a chair. Anson followed.
“You didn’t do that.” She refused to believe Anson was guilty of such a thing.
Pain flashed from his eyes but was immediately shielded. “That’s not what Seth Gunderson believes.”
“He talked to you?”
Anson nodded. “He talked to everyone.”
“Did he have any proof?”
“How could he?” Anson asked hotly. “I didn’t do it.”
Allison reached for his hand, curling her fingers around his. She needed to touch him, to reassure him. At first he resisted and tried to pull away. Then he entwined their fingers, holding onto her as if she were the only solid thing in a world that was crumbling. Allison didn’t know what to say that could make this better.
“What can I do?” she asked after a while.
“Nothing,” he said and swore. “I wouldn’t go back there if they begged me to. I worked my butt off for that restaurant and then they treat me like—”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to; Allison knew what he intended to say.
“I’ll talk to my dad,” she suggested. Her father had been willing to help Anson before. Once she explained the situation, he would again. She hoped.
“No.” His voice was harsh. “Not this time.” He laughed. “Your father can’t do a damn thing for me. I was the obvious suspect, you know. Mr. Gunderson knows I was responsible for setting the park shed on fire. If they were going to accuse anyone, it would be me—and why not? I’ve been in trouble. I was a convenient scapegoat.”
“But it’s not right!”
“Not everything is right, Allison. You live in this comfortable world where everything turns out perfectly. It isn’t like that for everyone. You’ve got parents who care about you. You’ve got a home and a future. Some of us don’t.”
“You have a future. We all do.” Her fingers tightene
d around his. “We each make our own.”
His eyes met hers as he digested her words. “I just don’t have the options you do.”
“Do you know who did it—stole the money, I mean?”
He hesitated. “No, but I have my suspicions.”
“Who? Tony?”
“Tony said I made everyone look bad because I worked hard and put in extra time. He was hired before me and then Mr. Gunderson talked to the chef about training me to be a prep cook. Tony didn’t think that was fair.”
She’d report this to her father and have him talk to Mr. Gunderson. “My dad and Mr. Gunderson are friends.”
Anson shook his head. “No. I’ll take care of this in my own way.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked, afraid of what he might do in this state of mind.
“I don’t know yet.”
He had a wild, disheveled look and she suspected he hadn’t slept in a long time. “Have you been home?”
He shook his head. “Mom’s brought home a new friend.” His lips curled in a half snarl. “We don’t get along. To put it mildly.”
Anson didn’t need to spell it out for her; his home life was dreadful. Allison frowned. His problems seemed huge, overwhelming. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Yeah, right. Like I said, some of us were dealt a lousy hand.”
She wanted to take away his burdens. She knew that was impossible, and the ache in her heart increased.
Allison glanced at her watch. Kaci had to be to work by four and Allison didn’t want to make her late.
Anson stood abruptly and checked his watch, too. “I gotta go.”
“Where?”
He shrugged, his gaze focused elsewhere.
“When will I see you again?”
That, too, was answered with a shrug, as if he didn’t know. As if it didn’t matter.
Allison tried to brush aside her disappointment. “I need to know,” she insisted.
“Why do you care?”
“I care,” she whispered. “I care more than you’ll ever know.”
“Don’t,” he said starkly. “You’re wasting your time.”
“I’m not,” she told him. “Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Please, Anson, this is too important. Everything will work out in the end. I’m sure of it.”
He snickered as though he found her attitude amusing. “Things like this don’t work out for people like me. It’s time you learned that.”
He walked away without looking at her again.
She had a sick feeling in her stomach. But as much as she wanted to run after Anson, she couldn’t.
That evening, Allison could barely eat dinner. As soon as the meal was over, she escaped inside her room. Twice now, Anson had come to her bedroom window and she hoped he would again. They needed to talk.
Sitting on her bed, writing in her journal, Allison poured out everything that was in her heart. She was terrified for Anson and angry about what had happened. She wanted to help him. If she spoke to her father, he might be angry that they’d broken their word. And Anson didn’t want him to find out he’d been fired….
At nine her mother tapped on her door.
“Come in,” Allison said. She thrust her journal under a pillow and sat cross-legged.
Rosie Cox walked into the room and sat on the end of the bed. She touched Allison’s shoulder. “You’ve been very quiet this evening. Is something bothering you?”
Allison nodded and stared down at her pale-pink comforter. “It’s Anson,” she whispered.
“Are you sad because you two can’t see each other yet?”
She nodded rather than confess that she’d seen him and, more than that, spoken to him. All at once Anson’s burden became too much for her and silent tears began to course down her face.
Her mother held her close, murmuring soothing words, and Allison remembered that Anson had said some kids were dealt a better hand in life than others. He was right; she had been. Until she’d gotten to know Anson, she hadn’t realized how lucky she was to have two parents who loved her.
Her mother gently stroked her hair. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“You’ll be upset with me.”
“I’ll risk that,” her mother whispered softly.
“Anson and I talked.” She waited a moment, fearing a reaction. Her mother didn’t comment, so Allison continued. “He got laid off from his job. Mr. Gunderson thinks Anson took some money, but he didn’t! He wouldn’t. He tried so hard to do everything right, and now he’s been treated unfairly. He’s so hurt and angry.” She swallowed hard. “I’m afraid of what he’s going to do.”
Her mother didn’t say anything for a long time. “Do you want your father to talk to him?”
“I don’t know. I suggested talking to Dad, but Anson wouldn’t hear of it. I tried to tell him everything’ll work out.” She lifted her head and looked at her mother. “He laughed at me. He said that wouldn’t happen for him. He won’t ask Dad for help because he doesn’t want Dad to be disappointed in him. Mom, he didn’t do it!”
“I’m so sorry,” her mother whispered.
“I don’t know how to help him.”
Her mother sighed. “Unfortunately I don’t either.”
“We have to do something. You can ground me, take away my computer privileges, not let me drive, do anything you want. I don’t care how you punish me—I’m talking to Anson.” Allison was willing to make any sacrifice. “He needs me, and he needs you and Dad, too.”
“Allison…”
“I’m serious. I…I love him. Go ahead and laugh if you want, but I mean it with every fiber of my being.”
Her mother sighed. She didn’t say Allison was being melodramatic, as she often did. Instead, she drew Allison close. “I know you have feelings for this young man. I’ll talk to your father and see if there’s anything we can do.”
Allison felt hope suddenly rise in her.
“I’m not making any promises,” her mother added.
Allison understood. But now, at least, Anson had someone who’d stand up for him.
Forty-Four
Olivia, who’d finished court for the day, sat at her desk, finishing up some paperwork. She squinted at the computer screen and decided it was time to update the prescription for her reading glasses.
Jack phoned to tell her he was home from the office; he was working eight-hour days, with no overtime. He’d promised to make dinner, which should be interesting. He almost always got to the house before her these days and had taken an unexpected interest in cooking. He favored salads with lots of fresh vegetables and an occasional surprise such as dried cranberries or chopped pecans.
Grace and Cliff were married now and Olivia was delighted for her dearest friend. They’d snuck away without even hinting that they intended to elope. When she’d first heard the news, Olivia had been disappointed. Had she known, she would have found a way to join Grace in San Francisco. But given time, Olivia saw the wisdom of Grace and Cliff’s decision.
Her friend had moved in with Cliff, bringing Buttercup and Sherlock, who seemed to be adjusting nicely to their new quarters.
As she began to read her next brief, a knock sounded at her office door. It was Deputy Mike Lusk. “There’s a man asking to see you, name of David Rhodes. Says he’s your stepbrother. Should I bring him over?”
Olivia hesitated briefly, then said, “Please. Show him in.”
The deputy nodded. “I’ll wait outside until you’re through.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Soon, an attractive man, probably in his midforties, was escorted into her chambers. He smiled widely when he saw her. “Judge Olivia Griffin?” he asked, extending his hand.
She nodded and they exchanged brisk handshakes.
“I’m David Rhodes, Ben’s son. It appears we’re related!”
Olivia remembered hearing som
e story about David; however, whatever it was didn’t immediately come to mind. She did recall that her mother and Ben had joined him in Seattle for dinner. Her mother had raved about the restaurant and the wonderful meal they’d had. Olivia also had a vague memory of something Justine had said; apparently she’d met him, too.
“I was hoping for a few minutes of your time, if that would be possible.” He didn’t wait for a response but walked into her office and immediately sat down in the guest chair.
“Of course,” she said, her tone a little ironic. “Make yourself comfortable.” She glanced at her watch. “I told my husband I’d be home by five-forty-five, so we can talk for ten or fifteen minutes.”
“That’s fine.” He leaned back, crossing his legs, and surveyed the room. The cut of his suit told Olivia it was expensive, possibly cashmere. The polished loafers, the silk tie—this was a man who liked to spend money.
“What can I do for you?” she asked, getting directly to the point.
“Ah, a woman who prefers to skip the small talk.” He smiled approvingly. “I like a no-nonsense attitude.”
His charm left her cold, although she could see why some people were swayed by it. David Rhodes was probably an experienced manipulator who relied on good looks and superficial wiles. “As I explained, I have an appointment.”
“But it’s with your husband.”
He sounded as if he thought she didn’t need to worry, since it was only Jack. Olivia was almost sure she didn’t like Ben’s son and tried to remember what she’d heard. With Jack’s heart attack, she’d missed a lot of details during the last two months.
“I’ve been to Cedar Cove twice now,” David said conversationally. “This is a tight community, isn’t it? People know people, neighbors talk to neighbors. It’s that sort of town.”
“We think of ourselves as the kind of place anyone would like to call home.”
He nodded. “A good PR line,” he said, but before she could respond to his cynicism, he forged ahead. “I imagine you know the other judges fairly well.”
“Yes…” she said hesitantly.
50 Harbor Street Page 26