Anything for Her

by Janice Kay Johnson

  He kept reminding himself that she hadn’t lied to him. There was a reason she and her mother didn’t want to be found—domestic violence was rearing, real ugly, in his mind—but despite everything Allie had chosen to be honest with him. Nolan held on tight to that knowledge.

  As they finished lunch Nolan nearly choked on the question, Who is Laura Nelson? Wadding up his sandwich wrapping, he was on the verge of blurting it out when three older women entered the shop.

  Smiling, Allie rose and went to greet them. They’d apparently brought quilts for her to consider for her next mini-quilt show—he got that much out of what he heard—and it was clear that his private time with her was over. He couldn’t decide whether he was frustrated or glad he’d been saved from possibly making a huge mistake.

  He spent the next day trying to talk himself into letting it go. She had been truthful, insofar as she thought she could. Shouldn’t he be satisfied to know that much?

  But he wasn’t, and Nolan knew himself well enough to be damn sure he wouldn’t be able to live with this kind of ever-present itch. He was in love with a woman who was living a lie of some kind.

  The parallels with the lies his parents had told were too blatant. Too powerful.

  He had to know.

  Ask?

  Or get the answers some other way?

  By Friday he’d decided. Allie might not forgive him if she found out...but maybe she’d never need to learn what he’d done.

  He went online again, and searched the Tulsa Yellow Pages for private investigators.

  * * *

  ALLIE SO DID not want to be spending Sunday with her mother instead of Nolan, but he hadn’t suggested they get together this weekend at all. So far he hadn’t said anything about Monday, either.

  With no good excuse, Allie had agreed to lunch and a movie. She and her mother had made stilted conversation on the drive to Mt. Vernon after agreeing on the Calico Cupboard for lunch. Allie was doing her damnedest to be pleasant and avoid any subjects of contention.

  For one thing, she definitely didn’t want to talk about Nolan.

  She’d been feeling hollow for days now. He’d obviously cooled toward her. Either something was wrong, or he was getting bored. She didn’t know which explanation she hated more.

  She and her mother were seated at a small table next to a railing, overlooking an antiques store a half a level below in the old brick building. The minute the two of them had given their orders and the waitress left them alone, Mom ditched the smile and leaned forward.

  “I’d hoped by this time you’d have come around to seeing that I was right.”

  Allie stared at her in disbelief. “Because there’s no chance you could be wrong?”

  “All I’m doing is insisting we follow the instructions we were given. You know that, Allie. We made a commitment.”

  All her good intentions evaporated. “You and Dad made a commitment.” Oh, God—didn’t that sound like a sulky teenager?

  “What were our choices?” Her mother’s voice had hardened. “I wasn’t the only one in danger. A car bomb could have killed all of us. Or the Morettis might have decided to use my children as an example.”

  “I heard you and Dad arguing, you know. Back then.”

  Her mother looked wary. “What do you mean?”

  “He didn’t want you to testify. He said you’d already steered the police in the right direction—they could dig up evidence on their own.”

  “But what if they couldn’t? What if a murderer got away with it, because I wasn’t courageous enough to tell a jury what I heard?”

  “Dad said something else.” Allie had never meant to confront her mother about this, but an anger she didn’t recognize had been driving her for weeks now. “He said the victim was another mob figure. ‘Scum’ was the word he used. He said it wasn’t as if you’d overheard someone who had killed a child.”

  There was a tremor in her words now. “Mom, to ensure justice for a man who probably didn’t deserve it, you damaged all of our lives. Shouldn’t we have come first? Dad and Jason? Me?”

  Her mother flinched when the shock wave of what Allie had said hit. Then she sat, very still, for a long time.

  The waitress, smiling and chatty, brought the salads they’d ordered. Allie managed a distracted thanks. Mom didn’t move a muscle.

  Neither of them reached for their napkins or forks when they were alone again. Allie balled her shaking hands into fists on her lap beneath the tablecloth. They stared at each other.

  “You believe I damaged your life.”

  Incredulous, Allie shook her head. “How can you even ask that?”

  “You weren’t exactly deprived,” her mother said stiffly. “We gave you kids a good life.”

  “Yes, you did. But it wasn’t the life we had. Do you have any idea how much I loved to dance? I was talented, Mom. I could have reached my dreams. You stole that from me when you decided it was more important to testify that day in court.”

  She saw the way her mother blanched and knew that she had hurt her. That hadn’t been her intention when they started this, but a part of her had needed to say it, if only once. See what you did to me.

  “You were thirteen. You might have lost interest or been injured or who knows what. Do you really think I should have violated my moral integrity because my teenage daughter had a favorite—” she waved a hand “—activity?”

  Okay, that made Allie mad all over again. “You had to know how important it was to me. And what about Dad? He was so proud of Marr Industries. I remember how much he hoped Jason would want to go to work with him, be the fourth-generation Marr to be CEO. You stole that from both of them, too. Our grandparents lost us, and we lost them. We lost our names.”

  The silence was thick and painful. “I had no idea,” her mother whispered at last.

  “What you did to us?”

  “That this is what you’ve thought all along.”

  “Did you think I was starving myself for no reason?” Horrified, Allie realized she’d raised her voice enough that heads were turning. Thank heavens the nearest tables were empty. She closed her eyes for an instant, willing herself to a pretense, at least, at calm.

  “I’m not unhappy, Mom. I love my business and I love to quilt. But now I feel as if you’re stealing my chance of marrying and creating my own family, too. And that’s tearing me apart.”

  Her mother’s face was pinched and almost unrecognizable. She seemed to have aged another ten years in the past ten minutes. “If he loves the woman you are right now, that’s what matters. Can’t you see that?”

  Allie shook her head against her mother’s pleading. “Let’s not go there again. I told you, it’s not Nolan, it’s me. Me.” She pointed her thumb at her chest. “I need to be loved for all of me. I need to be able to acknowledge all of me. But you know what? You’ve managed to turn the conversation around again so we’re back to talking about why I am suddenly defiant. I think after all these years I deserve to know whether you really listened to Dad. I need to understand why you made the choice you did.”

  Mom’s face crumpled before she composed herself again with a visible effort. “How could I have lived with myself if I hadn’t done the right thing?”

  “But Dad didn’t think it was the right thing, did he? Did you ever listen to him?”

  Her mother’s chin shot up. “Of course I listened! Do you really think I’m that self-centered?”

  Yes.

  The silence hung as they stared at each other.

  “Make me understand,” Allie begged. “Haven’t you ever had second thoughts? Regrets?”

  “Of course I have!” Now her mother’s voice shook. “When your father left me...and then to have Jason turn his back.” Tears ran down her cheeks. Seeming unaware, she didn’t lift a hand to catch them. “I never dreamed...my family fell apart because I asked all of you to support me in doing something hard. Was that really too much? It was the first time ever that I could do something important. My
whole life...” She stopped as if she’d shocked herself.

  “‘Your whole life’ what?” Allie whispered.

  “I was never anything.” Mom’s face was ravaged. “My brother, of course he was going to college. After all, he was the boy. Why would I need a career when I’d be getting married and raising children?

  “And then it was Mike. That damn company always came first. Marr Industries.” She said it with bitterness that corroded. “All I was supposed to do was support him. He didn’t even like it when I got a job. Did you know that? He didn’t understand that I wanted something that was mine. Of course, without an education the best I could do was assistant work. All I was doing was the same thing for someone else.” She finally balled up her napkin and swabbed at her cheeks. “And then there was you.” That came out muffled.

  “Me?”

  “You were so cute in your first recital. Do you remember your costume? Red-and-white checked, red tutu. You were four years old, and everybody watched you as if they’d seen a miracle. I wanted to give you everything you needed, I did, but sometimes...”

  Allie’s chest was so constricted, breathing had become hard. She had to say this, though. “Sometimes you resented me, too.”

  “Yes! Yes!” Through tear-swollen eyes, her mother glared. “I know that makes me a terrible person—you don’t have to tell me. Maybe I should have been content to live my entire life doing nothing but supporting my husband and my children.” Her face twisted again. The tears ran again, unheeded. “And I would have been, but then I was in a position to do something meaningful. Even the FBI agents were excited. They made me feel...important.” No longer focused on Allie, she seemed to see something far away and long ago.

  Shaken by her mother’s confession, Allie had no idea what to say. I understand? That’s what she’d asked for, wasn’t it? Enough honesty so that she would be able to understand? The awful thing was, she suspected she had understood already, subliminally.

  That was why Mom had seemed so excited back then. Those FBI agents buzzed around her as if she was the most glorious, fragrant flower in the garden. The decision was hers to make, not her husband’s, not her children’s, not her frequently critical mother’s.

  When the U.S. Marshal decided to move them again, this last time, Allie realized that her mother had felt important again. She wouldn’t be in danger if what she’d done hadn’t counted.

  Glorying in once again being the center of attention, she hadn’t noticed how miserable her daughter was. She hadn’t begun to understand why her son had chosen to stay behind.

  “Thank you for telling me,” Allie finally said, softly. A waitress approached, her concerned gaze on their untouched salads, but Allie gave her head a slight shake and the waitress stopped then retreated.

  Mom had quit crying and mostly mopped her face, although she looked terrible. “In the end, it all went so wrong,” she said, almost inaudibly.

  “We can’t know what would have happened if you’d said no,” Allie was surprised to hear herself say. “Maybe you and Dad would have split up anyway. It doesn’t sound like you were very happy in the marriage. And Jason might have sided with Dad no matter what.”

  “And you?” There was a great deal of pain in her mother’s eyes. “You might be soaring.”

  “Or I could have been injured and had to give up dance,” Allie said prosaically. “You were right. That was always a possibility.”

  “Can you ever forgive me?”

  Can I? Allie wished she could say, Of course, and mean it. The honest answer was I don’t know.

  “You know I love you,” she said instead.

  Her mother’s smile was crooked and more sad than pleased. “I know.” She drew in a big breath and looked down at her salad. “I suppose we should eat this.”

  “Our salads look really good.” Of course, Allie had no appetite at all right now, but she nonetheless picked up her fork and took a bite.

  How did she now say, Mom, the past is one thing, but I’m not sure I can forgive you if I lose Nolan because I can’t tell him the whole story?

  And then it struck her: What if Mom had to admit that likely no one was looking for her anymore, not after all these years? That they weren’t looking because she wasn’t that important? If she was forced, finally, to let go of her belief in the choice she’d made. Think of the guilt she’d suffer. Would she be able to bear it?

  Chest aching, Allie asked herself, Can I do that to my mother?

  She didn’t know.

  They ate a few bites in near silence. The blotches gradually faded from Mom’s face, although the lines seemed permanently carved deeper. Allie gradually realized how odd she felt. Maybe this was a case of being careful what you wish for. She hadn’t wanted to know that her mother had resented her for being special in any way.

  And yet she did understand how Mom had felt. Allie hadn’t recognized that her grandparents were sexist enough to have devoted their praise and hopes and resources to their son while stinting their daughter. She had entirely misinterpreted those sharp voices she’d overheard coming from the kitchen. The fact that her granddaughter was interested in feminine arts like tatting had pleased Nanna, since her own daughter never had been. Maybe even Allie’s dancing had seemed girlie enough to be acceptable.

  What might Mom have done with her life, if she’d been encouraged to go to college and maybe even grad school? It was entirely possible that Mom was smarter than Dad. Had it especially rankled that Dad had inherited his position and the company that carried his name?

  Maybe.

  And do I blame Mom for that?

  No.

  Allie knew enough had been said today. Her mother had broken. She’d see herself as having lost her dignity. Allie couldn’t bring herself to plead for more.

  “You know, if we hustle we can still make that movie,” she said, and Mom visibly wrapped herself in a semblance of her usual self-possession.

  “Oh my,” she said, glancing at her watch. “You’re right. Why don’t you see if you can catch the waitress’s eye?”

  Allie lifted her hand, glad she had an excuse not to have to continue to pretend enthusiasm to eat. “Here she comes now.”

  “My treat,” her mother said, reaching for her purse.

  “Thanks, Mom,” she said, as soon as the waitress moved off with Mom’s credit card. “We have enough leftovers to give us our dinners, too.”

  Her mother ruefully agreed. A moment later they both accepted take-out containers and scraped their mostly uneaten salads into them.

  Walking out, Mom remarked disparagingly on the antiques-and-consignment store that shared the building.

  “Honestly, it’s barely a step up from a garage sale,” she said with disdain.

  Allie argued, of course, because it was expected. She ought to be relieved that they were back on familiar footing.

  Deep inside, she was still so angry, she was afraid she could never feel the same for her mother.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “GOT TO BE HONEST,” the P.I. said. “I’ve hit a roadblock. I can’t answer your questions yet.”

  Nolan peeled off his goggles. He’d already set aside the ear protection. With his forearm, he swiped granite dust from his face, keeping the cell phone to his ear. “You can’t track down any family?”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve done that. Haven’t been able to talk to the brother yet, though. He’s a sales manager for one of our bigger employers in these parts. My brother-in-law works there, too. Mannerville Furniture. You know them?”

  “No,” Nolan said tersely. “Should I?”

  “The company manufactures fine wood furniture. Sells in fancy stores all over the country.”

  Nolan pinched the bridge of his nose. “And this is relevant how?”

  Small silence. “Well, I guess it isn’t. Only meant to say, this Jason Nelson is on the road most of the time. Hard to catch him home.”

  “And the father?”

  “Him I talked to. Mark Nelson.
First he said he didn’t have a daughter and what was I talking about? When I took out a copy of the yearbook page and a printout of the emergency-contact page from the school records, he slammed the door in my face.”

  “Huh.”

  “He looked real shook-up,” the investigator remarked thoughtfully. “Not like someone who just didn’t want to be bothered. More as if...” He trailed off.

  “He was scared?” Nolan didn’t even know where that came from.

  “Yeah. That, or seriously ticked off. Hard to say.”

  “I assume you checked out newspaper archives? Arrest records? You didn’t find anything suggesting domestic violence?”

  “Nothing like that. There’s no hint the divorce was anything but amicable. Mrs. Nelson never called the cops on her ex, that’s for sure. Neither parent was ever investigated for child abuse.”

  Then what in hell had happened? Nolan asked himself in frustration. Could there have been an ugly incident when the family was out of state on vacation, say? He raked fingers through his hair, stirring a cloud of grit. No, of course not; Judy and Mark Nelson had been divorced two years before she and Allie took off. Ridiculous to think they’d have vacationed together.

  “Aren’t there other ways to investigate someone’s background?” he asked, grasping at straws. “Where did the Nelsons live before they showed up in Fairfield? What’s Nelson’s working history? Did the school record show a work phone number for the mother?”

  “Oh, I pursued all those avenues even though they were peripheral to what you asked me to find out,” the man said. “I tried, anyway.

  “Mrs. Nelson was a buyer at a department store that’s gone out of business. I got the name and number of a former employer of Mr. Nelson’s before they appeared in Oklahoma, only that number has been disconnected. The area code was Michigan, Detroit area. Did some searches for a Mark and Judy Nelson in Michigan back fourteen, fifteen years ago and came up with zip. No drivers’ licenses on record, no traffic tickets, no indication they owned property.” His tone was the equivalent of a shrug. “I can go back and knock on Nelson’s door again, or try to find an acquaintance who knows something, but...”