6 Rainier Drive (20 page)

Seth's eyes were narrowed and accusatory. “I don't suppose that friend was Warren Saget?”

“What if it was?” she said and walked into the kitchen, where she sorted the mail on the counter.

“You promised me you wouldn't see him again.”

She tossed the bills into one pile and the advertisements into another. “Warren's a friend, nothing more.”

Seth angrily paced the kitchen floor. He stopped abruptly and seemed about to say something, then changed his mind. As quickly as it had flared, the anger was gone, replaced with what appeared to be disappointment and sadness. “In other words, you feel Warren Saget is a better friend to you than I am.”

That was exactly what she'd told herself earlier. She shrugged. “Warren listens to me.” She glanced up and met his eyes. “You obviously don't.”

R
elaxing on a lounge chair, soaking up the June sunshine—it was the perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon. The deck had become Maryellen's favorite spot, and she savored every moment outside the house, brief as those times were.

Jon was taking photographs in the Olympic rain forest, one of his preferred locations. Those pictures had also been among his most popular. Her biggest fear was that his job with the portrait studio would kill his love of photography. This was the first Saturday he'd gone out on a shoot in weeks. His parents had made it possible, although he'd never admit it.

With her knitting in her lap—the baby blanket was progressing more slowly than she would've liked—Maryellen watched Katie chase a butterfly with her grandfather, who kept a close eye on her.
Ellen was in the kitchen, making a fresh pitcher of lemonade.

“Here you go,” she said, bringing Maryellen a tall glass of lemonade, with ice and a wedge of lemon and even a fresh sprig of mint. Maryellen appreciated these appealing details, the lovely little touches her mother-in-law brought to everything she did.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, immediately setting her knitting aside. Ellen took the chair beside hers.

“I don't mind telling you what joy Katie has brought Joe and me,” she said, smiling at the little girl and her husband. “She's given us a new lease on life. We'd always heard how precious grandchildren were, but we had no idea it would be anything like this.”

The feeling was mutual. “Katie adores the two of you.”

“We love her,” Ellen said simply. “From the moment we received the pictures you mailed us…It's hard to explain. Our world changed overnight. We had a grandchild, and now we're about to have a second one. I can't even
begin
to tell you what a difference Katie has made in our lives.”

Maryellen hardly knew what to say. They never discussed their granddaughter's father. Really, what could they say? So far, both Joseph and Ellen had abided by Jon's wishes and had no contact with their son. As far as she knew, he hadn't said a word to either of them. Not a single word.

“Oh, look, Joe, look!” Ellen cried out, pointing at Katie. “She wants to play hide-and-seek.”

Katie had hidden behind a flowering rhododendron bush and was peeking around, just waiting to be discovered.

Everything her daughter said and did seemed to thrill Katie's grandparents. They were completely smitten with her and she flourished under their love and care and attention.

Surely Jon had noticed. Maryellen didn't think he could help seeing the transformation in their daughter. Katie had gone from being whiny and difficult to a contented toddler once again. It was as if their daughter had absorbed the stress and uncertainty of Maryellen's pregnancy and reflected it in her behavior. Her disposition had returned to normal soon after Jon's parents arrived.

And yet Jon had never once commented.

“Joe, Joe,” Ellen shouted, playing along. “Where's Katie?”

Joseph pretended he couldn't see her anywhere, which delighted Katie to the point of giggles.

The baby kicked and stretched inside her, and Maryellen rubbed her stomach.
Soon.
She felt she couldn't stand another minute, and yet Dr. DeGroot had told her she needed to be patient and do everything she could to forestall labor. Each single day improved the baby's chances.

When bed rest was first ordered, it had seemed an impossible situation to Maryellen. She'd already miscarried one baby. Although no one had told her outright, she felt this was her last chance for a second child. Didn't Jon realize what his parents were doing for them? They'd given Maryellen peace, they'd taken Katie into their hearts—and they'd allowed Jon to do the work he needed to do. She didn't know how he could continue to ignore what should be so obvious.

She wanted to berate him for the way he behaved toward his parents. She couldn't, however. Jon had to find it in his own heart to forgive them. He persisted in holding on to his hatred, yet she didn't understand how he could.

“Where's my Katie-girl?” Joseph asked, again pretending that he couldn't find the little girl. He did a good job of seeming to search high and low.

Katie loved thinking she'd outsmarted her grandfather. She giggled and giggled, and Joseph acted beautifully.

Ellen laughed, and Maryellen, too, was amused by their antics.

When she couldn't bear to remain hidden any longer, Katie raced around the bush and presented herself in true theatrical fashion. Seeking her reward, she rushed toward Joseph with her arms held wide.

Joseph caught her and, scooping her into his embrace, whirled her around and around.

Maryellen was so intent on watching them that she didn't realize Jon's vehicle had pulled into the driveway. He'd parked, climbed out and was standing in front of his car before she noticed. Maryellen's breath seemed to be trapped in her lungs as Jon stared at Katie and his father.

Joseph continued to whirl her around until he saw Jon. He stopped abruptly. Katie threw her arms around Joseph's neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then she saw her father and immediately wanted to be put down.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she cried.

Joseph lowered her to the lawn, and Katie started eagerly toward Jon.

Crouching, Jon held his arms open to his little girl. Laughing and chattering, Katie fell into his embrace. Jon glanced at Maryellen, but when he saw his stepmother sitting at her side, he turned away.

“I can see it's time for us to go,” Ellen said, unable to disguise her pain. She stood, reached for her empty glass and carried it into the kitchen.

Maryellen watched as Jon slowly straightened, Katie in his arms. Joseph faced his son and they looked at each other in silence.

“She's a delightful little girl,” Joseph said after a long, tense moment.

Jon didn't respond.

“I know you don't want us here.” Joseph rubbed his hands in nervous agitation. “Ellen and I have done our best to respect your wishes, because we know that's the only way you're comfortable with having us near your family.”

Katie squirmed, and Jon set her down. Not understanding, she turned to her grandfather and raised her arms, demanding to be picked up.

As though asking his son's permission, Joseph glanced at Jon.

Maryellen bit her lip when Jon gave a slight nod, a gesture of permission.

Joseph reached for Katie. “I know you named her after your mother. She would've been so proud. And I—I'm proud of you, Jon, prouder than I can say.” He had to stop because tears started to run down his weathered cheeks.

Jon seemed about to say something, but didn't.

“I understand why you can't forgive me,” Joseph went on. “I do…and I have to say I can't blame you. What I did was despicable. I won't offer you an excuse. I…I deserve your hatred.”

Ellen stepped onto the deck and stood completely still when she saw Joseph talking to his son. She brought her hand to her mouth, as if she feared she might make some sound that would destroy the fragile mood.

“I want to thank you, though,” Joseph said. His words, choked out with emotion, were difficult to understand. “This time with Maryellen and Katie has been a blessing I never thought I'd receive.” His father put Katie back down on the grass. Confused, the little girl looked from one man to the other.

Jon slid his gaze toward Maryellen. She gave him a shaky smile and picked up her knitting, although her fingers were suddenly uncooperative. The scene unfolding before her was of far more interest than the yarn and knitting needles she held.

“Thank you, son,” Joseph said. “For letting Ellen and me come here. We'll leave you to your family now.”

“Joe.”

He didn't call him Dad, which was more than Maryellen would have expected.

Joseph paused and waited.

“Maryellen and I appreciate what you've done.” His voice was gruff and didn't sound like him. He gathered Katie into his arms and headed for the house.

Nearly overwhelmed by emotion, Ellen hurried to Joseph and they hugged each other before driving away.

Jon didn't join Maryellen on the deck the way he normally did. Instead, he went immediately into his darkroom, taking Katie with him. He wanted a few minutes alone. Maryellen understood.

Those were the first words Jon had spoken to his father in fifteen years. In her heart, she knew this was a new beginning for all of them.

I
t was graduation day.

When Anson had first disappeared, Allison was sure he'd return before now. She realized she'd set herself up for disappointment, but she couldn't stop believing that he'd find a way for them to be together.

She'd talked to him twice, and he hadn't even mentioned the possibility of coming back. If anything, especially now the pewter cross had been discovered, returning to clear his name seemed increasingly unlikely. Despite his claim that he'd seen the arsonist, and his insistence that he hadn't set those fires during his childhood, all the evidence pointed to him.

Now, as she stood with her classmates, wearing her cap and gown, she was forced to accept that Anson wouldn't show up at the last minute the way she'd dreamed.

Graduation day should be an important event, a day of triumph, yet all she felt was a sense of loss and betrayal. She wanted Anson with her so they could graduate together. Had he stayed in school, everything would've been different. She was positive he would've been awarded an academic scholarship. They'd talked about attending the same college. They'd talked about a lot of things. Every dream he'd ever shared with her had gone up in flames with The Lighthouse.

Allison's closest friends had gathered in the waiting area, talking animatedly, laughing nervously, discussing plans and exchanging bits of gossip. The stadium was filled with family and friends. The chatter and all the noise made her want to clamp her hands over her ears. Soon “Pomp and Circumstance” would begin, and Allison, along with the rest of her classmates, would file into the Tacoma Dome, where their families had assembled.

“Allison.”

At the sound of her name, she turned to find Shaw Wilson slipping between two other graduates. He insisted on being called Shaw—she had no idea why—although his real name was Phillip. He'd once been a Goth friend of Anson's. Apparently he hadn't earned enough credits to graduate or he would've been required to wear a cap and gown. As usual, he'd dressed entirely in black.
The June evening was mild, but he wore a full-length black coat that was long enough to drag on the floor. His face was heavily made up with black eye shadow.

Allison remembered that Shaw and Anson had hung around together at the beginning of the school year. She hadn't seen Shaw with him much after Anson began working at The Lighthouse. Shaw was the first person she'd gone to after Anson's disappearance, certain the other boy would know where he was and what had happened to him. Shaw swore he didn't and she believed him.

“Hi, Shaw,” she said, doing her best to hide her misery.

Her classmate moved uncomfortably close and stared at her.

In that instant Allison knew. “You heard from him?” She kept her voice low and didn't dare say Anson's name aloud.

Shaw gave the slightest nod of his head.

“Is he all right?” she breathed.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Not if you ask me. He says otherwise.”

Allison bit her lip for fear she'd cry out. “He phoned you?”

Again he nodded, glaring at her as if she were a traitor. “He wanted to tell you more but he couldn't because he knows you'll tell the sheriff. I told him
you can't trust a girl. At least he listened to me about that much.”

“Does he need anything?” After her graduation announcements had gone out, Allison had received gifts of money from family friends and relatives she'd barely even met. If he needed it, Allison would send Anson every penny.

“He says not.”

“He hasn't phoned me.” Allison knew why, too. She'd lost her faith in him. Still, she waited every single day, worrying endlessly about where he was and how he was living. He didn't have any relatives who could help him, and even his mother didn't know where he'd gone.

Shaw held up his hand, stopping her. “Don't ask me anything, because I can't tell you.”

“How can I help?” That was all she really wanted to do. Innocent or guilty, she still loved him.

“You don't really care what happens to him.” Shaw's eyes burned into hers.

“I do!” She wanted to shout the words. She cared so much that she was near tears.

Glancing around, obviously afraid people might be watching them, Shaw whispered something unintelligible in her ear.

Frowning, she looked up at him. “Pardon?”

“SUL,” he said. “Those are the first three letters of the license plate belonging to the person he saw
that night.” Shaw kept his head down and spoke in a voice so low she could hardly hear. “He didn't get a good look at the car, but from the back it seemed to be dark. Midsize. A sedan. Pretty common, in other words.”

Hope, faith, love, all three came to her in a blinding flash. Perhaps there
had
been someone else there that night—and that someone was responsible for the fire. Almost immediately this flicker of hope was extinguished by doubt.

“Why didn't he tell me this earlier?” she asked. If Anson could trust anyone, it should be her. Not Shaw.
She
was the one who'd stood up for him, defending him to her classmates and anyone who'd listen.
She
was the one who'd believed.

He sighed loudly. “Anson wanted to keep you out of this. I checked around, but I couldn't come up with anything. He said I should tell you now.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. She hugged Shaw, who backed away in surprise.

Desperate for hope, she asked, “Is he coming?” Her voice rose excitedly. “He's here, isn't he?”

Shaw's demeanor changed as he shook his head. “No way, man. He isn't stupid enough to do that, not even for you. Just remember—See You Later.”

“See you later,” she repeated, not understanding.

“It's how I remember the letters.”

The music started and everyone scrambled to get
into their assigned positions. Before Shaw could leave, she grabbed his arm. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“No.” He shook his head more emphatically than before.

“Is there anything else you're
not
telling me?”

His eyes narrowed, then he slowly nodded. “He swore me to secrecy. I can't tell you, so don't ask. Later, you're going to get something from him. When you do, make sure the sheriff knows I was the one who arranged it for Anson. Me. You understand?” With that he left her, disappearing into the throng of students.

Allison didn't know what he meant and didn't have time to question him further. Already the line of graduates had begun to move and Allison, shaking from the inside out, searched frantically for her cap before joining her friends as they filed into the pavilion.

The graduation went smoothly. When her name was announced, Allison Rose Cox crossed the stage to accept her diploma. Clutching it in her hand, she descended the steps and reclaimed her chair. She sat through all the speeches and awards, but her mind wasn't on any of them. She was thinking about Anson. He'd sent Shaw to her in an attempt to prove his innocence. He needed her to have faith in him and she'd faltered, but she wouldn't let him down again.

After the ceremony Allison wandered through the crowd until she found her family. Her mother held a damp, crumpled tissue. “It's so hard to believe you're eighteen. An adult,” Rosie Cox said, dabbing her eyes. She hugged Allison and her father did, too. Eddie shifted from foot to foot, looking bored. Her brother's turn was coming; next year he'd be in high school, too.

Allison was ushered home, where her grandparents and aunts and uncles had gathered for a big family party. Everyone seemed so pleased for her and so excited. There was lots of talk about the future and the fact that she'd be leaving for college in September. None of it seemed real.

As soon as she could, Allison broke away from her relatives and sought out her father. “I need to talk to Sheriff Davis,” she told him. She trusted her dad beyond anyone else. Her mother, too, of course, but her father was the more approachable, at least about something like this.

Zach quietly pulled her into his den. “You heard from Anson again?”

“Not directly. This has to do with the fire, though. It's important, Dad. I have some information that might help identify the arsonist.”

“Okay.” He nodded solemnly. “I'll contact Sheriff Davis first thing in the morning. We'll go in and see him together.”

“Thank you.” She was glad he'd simply taken her word, without insisting on details. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she kissed his cheek. It'd been a long time since she'd done that and she wasn't sure why she did it now. Perhaps it was to show her gratitude. Not just for this but for everything.

“What about Grad Party?” her father asked. She suspected he'd purposely steered the conversation away from anything too emotional.

“I'll go in a little while. Wake me in the morning, okay?” Grad Party, with nearly her entire graduation class, was scheduled for later that evening. It was the last time this senior class would be together. From this point forward, they would go their separate ways.

“Okay, good.” Her father left the den to attend to their guests.

Allison returned to her bedroom for a moment's solitude—and hoped she'd made the right decision.

“Allison,” her mother called from out in the hallway.

“I'm in here, Mom,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “I needed to change my shoes,” she said, offering a convenient excuse.

“Here.” Rosie handed her a single red rose in a crystal vase. “This came for you. It was delivered just now, and there's a card with it, too. Who would do something so sweet?”

Allison didn't need to guess; she knew. Anson. He hadn't come himself, but he'd done the next best thing.

Taking the rose and the card, she looked up at her mother, and the expression in her eyes must have conveyed the truth.

“Anson?” her mother whispered.

“I think so.”

“Rosie, we're out of punch,” Zach announced from the hall.

Allison could have kissed him. Her mother turned around and spoke briefly to her father as she walked past.

“That's from Anson?” her father asked.

Allison shrugged. “I think so,” she said again.

He hesitated for only an instant before he left her to open the card in privacy. Inside was a simple message.
I will always love you. Anson.

Allison closed her eyes and, leaning against the wall, whispered back, “I will always love you, too. Always, always, always.”