Allison O'Brian on Her Own, Volume 2

by Melody Carlson

  Dad smiled. “It’s nice to see what a diligent student you are, Allison. Is that something they taught you at that stuffy old boarding school?”

  Allison laughed as she pulled on her coat. “Well, there wasn’t all that much to do at Oakmont, so there was always plenty of time to study.”

  Her father frowned as he reached for his jacket. “Sometimes I’m concerned there could be too many distractions for you here, Allison—what with the airport and all your school activities.”

  “You know how I love being busy, Dad. In fact, I was just thinking last night that I might sign up to be on the Christmas dance decorating committee—if that’s okay with you. It means I’ll need a ride home after school on Monday and Wednesday next week.”

  Dad opened the car door for her. “Sure. It sounds like you’re keeping up with your schoolwork. I don’t mind picking you up. But you are certainly a busy little bee. You remind me of Grace.”

  Allison smiled. “I shall take that as a supreme compliment.”

  They drove in silence, and her father seemed preoccupied. Allison didn’t really want to interrupt his thoughts, but something was bothering her. She had tried to skirt around the subject once before during their chess game, but it seemed there were still some unanswered questions. The best solution was probably to simply bring it out into the open.

  “Did I hear you talking to Marsha this morning?” asked Allison lightly.

  He nodded. “Yes. She called again.”

  “What did she want?”

  James sighed. “I’m not sure. Maybe just to chat.”

  “Do you like chatting with her?” Allison studied his face carefully.

  He frowned. “Not exactly.”

  This surprised Allison. “Then why do you sound so cheerful when you’re talking with her, Dad? It sounds like you enjoy it.”

  Her father glanced at her with a shocked expression. “Really?” Then he began to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m sorry, Allison. It’s just that when I first started talking to Marsha, I was trying to befriend her in an attempt to talk her out of having you go down there at Christmas. I thought you didn’t want to go, and I was trying to smooth things over with her. And then she seemed so lonely that I actually felt a little sorry for her.”

  “Do you feel anything else?”

  James chuckled. “Are you asking if I still harbor any romantic feelings for Marsha?”

  “Yes, I guess that’s what I’m asking.” Allison felt her cheeks blushing. She didn’t like coming across as a nosy busybody. But she just had to know!

  James nodded solemnly. “You know, Allison, there was a time when I would have done anything for your mother. Although I had felt somewhat trapped in our marriage to begin with—”

  “Trapped?”

  “I suppose that’s not the right word. But I was down and alone in New York, and Marsha reached out and pulled me into her world—things happened so fast. I must admit that her glamour and wealth fascinated me. I was like a country bumpkin, just ripe for the picking. . . .”

  “And Marsha picked you,” Allison said quietly.

  “I regretted the marriage immediately. I knew in my heart it was a mistake, but after you came along, I decided to do everything within my power to make it work. At that point I felt like I did love Marsha. But things went steadily from bad to worse—it was a marriage that was never meant to be.”

  Allison nodded. “I know, Dad. Marsha told me her version, too, right before I left from Grandmother Madison’s. Marsha blames herself, you know.”

  “Yes, she just recently said as much to me.” Dad sighed. “It was such a relief to hear her say it after all these years. And I suppose when she admitted that and apologized, I began to feel more friendly to her.”

  “So is it only friendship, then, Dad?” Allison knew her voice sounded hopeful.

  “Allison, I can understand how you might wish that your parents could get back together—”

  “No, Dad. That’s not it. Not really.” Allison thought for a moment. “I suppose there were times when I thought it would be easier—on me, anyway. But I’m old enough to understand that it would be a huge mess, unless you really loved each other.”

  “I don’t love Marsha, Allison.” James glanced at her. “I would probably actually try to for your sake—if things were different, I mean—if it weren’t for Stanley and Grace. But it would be a sacrifice on my part because the fact is, I haven’t a glimmer of romantic feelings for Marsha.” He turned down the road to the airport. “I hope that doesn’t hurt you, Allison, but I have to tell you the honest truth.”

  Allison smiled. “No, it doesn’t hurt me, Dad. I appreciate your telling me the truth. I know it’s not easy to talk about Marsha and the past. But I think I needed to know. When I heard you talking to her, I began to imagine things. I worried about you and Grace. I didn’t want to see you make a mistake. Marsha is my mother and I do love her, but Grace is very special and I love her, too. Not because she’s going to be your wife or because she’s going to be my stepmother, but simply because she’s Grace.”

  James parked the car in front of the office, then turned to Allison. There were tears gleaming in his eyes as he spoke. “There’s nothing you could have said just now that would’ve meant more to me, Allison. Thank you.”

  Allison took a deep breath as she looked up at the overcast sky. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted.

  “I didn’t mean to be nosy,” she said softly.

  James threw back his head and laughed. “Don’t ever worry about that, Allison. I promise to never keep secrets from you. I hope you will do the same.”

  “What about surprises—you know, for birthdays and Christmas?”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “You know what I mean.”

  “Hey, there,” called Mac. “I was starting to get worried. I need to take off in a few minutes if I’m going to pick up that freight in Portland and make my deliveries before dark.”

  “Sorry, Mac. It’s probably my fault,” said Allison with a sheepish smile. “I slowed him down a little. Hey, I was hoping you would be around so I could interview you for an article for my school paper. I figure you must be full of great tales.”

  Mac winked at her. “I read your bonny story in the Port View Herald last week and would be happy to tell you some tales, but it’ll have to be another day, lassie. I’ve got to be on my way now.”

  “Have a good flight, Mac,” James called. He turned to Allison. “Do you think there’s any coffee in there?”

  Allison grinned. “If not, I know how to make some.”

  “That’s my girl. I’ll be out in the hangar.”

  Allison quickly had a pot of coffee perking on the little stove. It still amazed her to see how neat and efficient the office had become. Such a transformation from earlier days. She answered the phone and wrote a message, then settled down at Mac’s desk to do her homework.

  “Hi, Allison.”

  Allison looked up to see Andrew in the doorway. “Hi, Andrew.” She smiled up at him. His hair was mussed by the wind, and his cheeks were ruddy. “What are you up to?”

  “I was just talking to your dad out there.” He nodded over his shoulder. “He asked me to bring him a cup of coffee. Got any?”

  She stood and went to the stove. “Do you want a cup, too, Andrew?”

  “Sure. But I can get it, Allison. You don’t have to wait on me.”

  “No problem,” said Allison, determined to treat Andrew as her good friend, just like he’d always been. “Don’t you take cream and sugar?”

  “Yeah. That’s the only way I can drink it.”

  “How was the game last night?” asked Allison as she handed him his cup.

  “Amazingly, the Pirates won.”

  “Fantastic. Now you can write a victory story.”

  Andrew nodded and took a sip. “Your dad said you decided not to go to Marsha’s after all.”


  Allison bit her lip. “Actually, Marsha decided for me.”

  Andrew’s brows raised. “Didn’t she want you to come?”

  “Her film has been changed to location in Brazil. They leave the week before Christmas.”

  “Are you disappointed?”

  Allison shook her head. “Not really. I was only going because I felt bad that she would be alone. All of you have each other. . . .”

  “And now we’ll have you, too.” Andrew grinned as if he really meant it, and Allison felt warm inside.

  “Thanks. It should be a fun Christmas. Probably the best one I’ve ever had.”

  “I guess I better get your dad’s coffee to him before it gets cold. Thanks, Allison.”

  Allison returned to her homework, sighing in satisfaction. Being Andrew’s friend was really quite nice. It seemed senseless to let silly feelings get in the way. From now on she would try to keep a clear head about things.

  Allison helped the decorating committee after school on Monday. It was fun making foil silver bells and paper poinsettias for the table decorations. She worked with Susan Taylor, who was a sophomore. Susan didn’t appear to be involved in any specific group at school, but she did seem sincere and thoughtful, and Allison liked her. She knew that Susan’s parents ran a dairy farm just north of Tamaqua Point.

  “Are you going to the dance?” asked Allison as she sprinkled glitter along the edges of the red paper poinsettia.

  “You mean with a boy?” asked Susan.

  “Or on your own?” said Allison. “I heard that dance committee people don’t have to come with a date.”

  “That’s right,” said Susan. “Actually, I plan to come. How about you?”

  “I thought it would be fun—sort of festive, you know—the music and decorations.”

  Susan nodded. “I don’t really care if I don’t get to dance.”

  Allison sighed. “I think it’s fun to dance.”

  “Really?” Susan seemed surprised, then nodded. “Oh, of course, what with your mother and all—”

  “Actually, my mother never had much time to teach me to dance. In fact, I’m sure she would think I was greatly in need of some real dancing lessons.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound like because of your mother . . . well, I know you’re—” Susan looked embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry about it, Susan.” Allison laughed lightly. “I used to be a lot more sensitive about my mother, but I think I must be getting used to it.”

  Susan sighed. “Well, I heard that Shirley Jenson had made your life miserable about your mother for a while. I didn’t want to come across like that. I must admit I find it fascinating that your mother is a movie star, but I liked you before I knew that.”

  “Thanks, Susan. I’m finding that once people get over it, life pretty much goes back to normal.”

  “Say, I thought your article on Caroline’s brother was very interesting.” Susan twisted a green poinsettia leaf around a pipe cleaner. “And I’ve been praying for him. I think that was a nice idea.”

  “Thanks. Now, if I could only get an idea for this week’s paper.”

  “Not much going on around here,” said Susan. “If the dance were sooner you could write about that.”

  Allison glanced at her watch and saw it was time for her dad to pick her up. “I’ve got to go, Susan. I’ll see you tomorrow, and I plan to help again on Wednesday.”

  “Swell. We’ll be decorating the big tree then.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  By Tuesday, Allison still hadn’t come up with a good story for the paper. She had outlined several ideas, but nothing seemed nearly as interesting as her previous feature stories. She knew it was foolish to get too distraught over this, but she wanted to do a good job. Writing for the paper seemed to be the thing she did best—it mattered to her.

  In P.E., Allison noticed that Susan Taylor looked about as glum as Allison felt. “What’s wrong, Susan?” she asked. “You look down in the dumps.”

  “I guess I’m feeling a little downhearted.” Susan looked at Allison with sad brown eyes. “Our house was burglarized yesterday. My mom and dad were both out in the dairy barn, and the rest of us were at school. Someone came in and took silverware and money, even a sterling tea set that had been in my mom’s family for five generations. She’s really upset.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Allison. “That must feel horrible.”

  “It does. We never used to lock our doors. Now my dad says everyone will have to carry their own key. It seems so unfair that perfect strangers could just walk into your house and do that.”

  “Do you think the police will find them?” asked Allison.

  “My dad says it’s probably the same thieves who’ve been breaking in along the coast. You better keep your doors locked.”

  Allison nodded. “How creepy. I’m so sorry that your family was hit, Susan.”

  “Thanks. Somehow just talking about it makes me feel a little better. But it does shake your trust in fellow humans. I don’t like that.”

  “I don’t like it, either.” Allison’s eyes lit up. “Say, would you mind if I used this for my newspaper story?”

  “I guess not. I’m sure it will be in the Port View Herald.”

  “Right. But it will interest kids in school because it seems more real when someone they know has been hurt. Who knows, maybe someone at school might have some information that could help the police find the thugs.”

  “That would be nice.” Susan attempted a feeble smile. “Thanks, Allison.”

  Allison tried not to be distracted by her new story idea as she impatiently waited for the afternoon to pass. She couldn’t wait to sit down in front of the typewriter. Finally the last bell rang, and she practically ran to the journalism room. On her way she saw Heather and Caroline.

  “What’s the rush?” asked Caroline.

  “I’ve got a good lead,” called Allison over her shoulder.

  “Go for it, Allison!” cheered Heather.

  Allison had just flopped into a chair and hammered out her opening line when Howie stepped up to her desk.

  “Is your story finished yet, Allison?” he asked.

  She looked up and smiled beguilingly. “Not yet, Howie. Do you think if I get it to you tomorrow it will be okay? It’s going to be a good one, I think.”

  Howie frowned. “I suppose. It’s just that the paper is looking a bit thin right now.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Beverly’s article is on the short side, and Shirley hasn’t turned in anything yet.”

  “I heard that,” said Shirley, rising from her desk dramatically. “It’s not my fault, Howie. If you’d just let me do my column like I’m supposed to, it wouldn’t be a problem. But, no, I’ve got to come up with a news story.”

  Howie rolled his eyes, then looked down to Allison’s first line. “Susan Taylor’s house was burglarized?” he said with concern.

  “Yes,” said Allison. “She’s pretty upset, too. It’s too bad creeps like that have to hurt others.”

  “Doesn’t Susan live in Tamaqua Point?” asked Howie.

  Allison nodded, eager to return to her story.

  “Gosh,” said Shirley with wide eyes. “We live in Tamaqua Point. I better tell my mom to hide her jewelry.”

  Howie scratched his head. “From Port View to Tamaqua Point . . . it sounds like the robbers are working a thirty-mile strip of the coast. I’m surprised the police haven’t caught up with them yet. It couldn’t be that hard to patrol Highway 101. That’s the only way to get up and down the coast.”

  “Unless you had an airplane,” said Allison impatiently. “But we’ve got the only airstrip in the area, and I hardly think that Mac and Dad are burglars.”

  “There’re also boats,” said Howie thoughtfully. “But that’s pretty farfetched.”

  A wild thought struck Allison. “But what if . . .”

  “What if—what?” asked Howie with curiosity.

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing. But you never know
. And if I was right, it could make a great story.” Allison looked at her watch. “I wish I could get out there right now.”

  “What is it, Allison?” demanded Howie.

  “Just a crazy hunch,” said Allison. “A couple of times we thought we saw strange lanterns moving around at the lighthouse. It’s probably nothing, but what if the thieves were using boats, like you just suggested, and using the lighthouse island to stash their loot?”

  Howie laughed. “I’m sure it could happen, Allison. But I must admit it sounds a bit fanciful. If it was true, it would make a great story. Maybe you should call the police and tell them your hunch. And now I better get to work thinking of some way to fill this paper in case my reporters don’t come through.” He looked directly at Shirley, then returned to his desk.

  Allison frowned. If she called the police, they would get there before her and she might lose the story. She wished that Andrew didn’t have to wait to take Heather home. Where was Andrew? And where was Beverly, for that matter?

  Shirley leaned over with interest. “What are you going to do, Allison?”

  “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. Like Howie said, just my fanciful imagination.”

  “But maybe not,” said Shirley.

  “It doesn’t really matter, since it’s impossible. I’d have to leave right now to get to the island before dark.”

  “So what’s stopping us?” Shirley smiled down at Allison.

  “Us?” Allison eyed Shirley with suspicion.

  “Sure. I can take you.”

  “You?” Allison blinked in surprise. “How?”

  “Silly girl. Don’t you remember that I turned sixteen a couple weeks ago? I got my driver’s license last week. And you’re in luck, since Mom let me drive her car to school today.”

  Allison had almost forgotten that Shirley was a year older. But still, to ride in the car with Shirley Jenson at the wheel? It seemed crazy. “I . . . uh . . . I think I better pass, Shirley. But thanks just the same.”

  “Fine,” said Shirley. “I’ll go by myself, then. I need the story.”

  “But you can’t—”

  “It’s a free country, Allison. And if you’ll try to remember—that lighthouse happens to be named after me.”