“You’re right,” Allison admitted. “This does have to do with Anson. He got into—he did something he shouldn’t have. Afterward, he felt really bad about it and didn’t know what to do, so he came to me.”
Cecilia had suspected trouble the instant she’d seen the boy, and the few things she’d heard had only confirmed that opinion. Everything about Anson screamed attitude, from his street-length gunslinger black coat to the spiked bracelet. She hadn’t liked the idea of Allison hanging around with him, but had kept her opinions to herself.
“Anson came to you for help?” Cecilia repeated, wanting to be sure she understood. She didn’t press Allison with questions about what Anson had done, for fear she’d stop confiding in her.
The girl nodded.
“What could you do?” Cecilia was annoyed that the boy had expected Allison to solve his problems.
“I took him to talk to my dad,” Allison explained. “I knew Dad would help and he has. Dad’s been really wonderful.”
“What did your father do?”
Allison swallowed hard. “Dad said Anson had to turn himself in to the police.” She lifted her gaze to Cecilia’s. “I know you’re probably wondering what Anson did, but…I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Turning himself in was a good start, in Cecilia’s view. Her mother had drilled the concept of personal responsibility into her from a young age. Her father, on the other hand, tried to avoid it whenever he could.
“Did Anson take your father’s advice and go to the police?”
Allison raised her chin slightly, as though proud of her juvenile delinquent boyfriend. “It was really hard, but he was willing to own up to what he’d done. Dad called his attorney friend and then he drove Anson to the sheriff’s department.”
“Barry Creech?” Cecilia asked. She knew the attorney was a client of Mr. Cox’s and that seemed a logical guess.
“Yes.” Allison twisted the tissue in her fingers. “Dad said Mr. Creech specializes in juvenile offenses and he’d know how to handle this.”
Cecilia had assumed Anson was already eighteen, but when she mentioned that, Allison shook her head. “Anson turns eighteen next month, and we were afraid the court would want to try him as an adult because he’s close to legal age.” Sighing heavily, she gave Cecilia a weak smile. “I know you don’t like Anson.”
“It isn’t that I don’t like him…”
“My mom doesn’t, either—but Cecilia, you’re both wrong about him! Anson is a good person. He hasn’t had an easy life, you know. His mother’s awful…I don’t even want to get into it about his mother. She’s evil.”
Cecilia didn’t want to get into it, either. Abe Lincoln had a hard life, too, but he didn’t go around committing crimes. “Does Anson have a police record?”
“No,” Allison said irritably, which suggested this was a question she’d answered more than once. “He’s never done anything like this before.”
In other words, he’d never gotten caught. “What did Mr. Creech advise him to do?”
“He said the same thing Dad did, that Anson should turn himself in to the authorities. He met Anson and talked to his mother, and she said he’s on his own.” Allison’s pretty face tightened in a scowl. “Dad met Anson’s mom, too, and after that he said he’d go to court with Anson. The judge has to accept the plea agreement Mr. Creech worked out with the prosecutor. He has to.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “His own mother won’t even be in court with him.”
“Okay,” Cecilia said in a soothing voice, “so Mr. Creech was able to get a plea agreement with the prosecutor.”
Allison dabbed at her eyes with the shredded tissue. “Yes, and Dad says it’s a good one. Mr. Creech got the prosecutor to try Anson as a juvenile. That means this won’t be on his permanent record, as long as he maintains all the terms of the plea bargain.”
Cecilia wasn’t convinced that keeping his record clean was necessarily a good thing. She just hoped Anson appreciated everything Mr. Cox and Allison were doing for him. Somehow she doubted it.
“The prosecutor agreed to let Anson do community service hours, plus he has to pay restitution, stay in school and graduate on time.”
“He’ll need a job if he’s going to pay restitution.” She tried to figure out exactly what kind of mischief Anson had gotten into.
“Dad helped him there, too,” Allison said with such pride her eyes shone. “The Gundersons own The Lighthouse restaurant, and Dad knows Mrs. Gunderson from when she worked at the bank. He called her, and she said they needed a dishwasher and they’d be willing to hire Anson. It’s only minimum wage, but Mr. Gunderson said if Anson worked hard and proved himself, he’d consider training him for other positions when they become available.”
“Great.”
“Anson’s really excited. He doesn’t have a car or anything, but he’s willing to take the bus.”
That sounded like a big concession on Anson’s part, Cecilia thought cynically. Still this was a light sentence; having to get a job and do a few community service hours didn’t seem all that harsh. “Does he have to do anything else?”
Allison put the sodden tissue in her pocket. “He has to stay out of trouble for a year, comply with everything the court ordered and the fire won’t appear on his record.”
Fire. The word didn’t escape Cecilia’s notice. So Anson had started a fire. There’d been a piece in The Chronicle recently about the tool shed at the community park burning down. According to the article, it had been the act of an arsonist. Cecilia wondered if that was Anson’s handiwork, and guessed it was.
“Why are you so worried now?” Cecilia asked. As far as she could see, Mr. Cox had practically held the boy’s hand through this entire process.
“The judge has to agree to everything the prosecution suggests and…” Allison looked up, and moist streaks glistened on her cheeks, again. “If the judge doesn’t, then Anson will go to jail. And…and—” she began to sob “—Dad said, after today, I can’t see him anymore.”
That was the wisest thing Mr. Cox had done. None of this was any of Cecilia’s business, but she didn’t want Allison getting mixed up with a boy so obviously bent on self-destruction. She’d met a dozen kids just like him while growing up and, thanks to her own instinct for self-preservation, had steered clear of them.
“Dad said Anson could stop by and talk to me for a few minutes after court this afternoon, and then that’s it. We can’t see each other again until Anson’s fulfilled his obligations.”
“Did he agree to that?”
Allison swallowed hard. “No.”
“No!” Cecilia was outraged.
“He couldn’t.” How quick she was to defend him. “He can’t agree to that. We go to the same school and we’re in the same classes every day. It would be impossible not to see each other.”
“I don’t think that’s what your father meant.”
“No, but Anson’s going to do everything by the book. He said not spending time with me will be the hardest thing of all. It’s true, Cecilia. Anson loves me and I love him. He said he wants to prove to my parents that he’s worthy of their faith in him. After the way my dad helped him, I think Anson would’ve done anything he asked.”
Cecilia couldn’t comment. Easy enough for Anson to pay lip service now. The proof would come later, and they’d see if he was capable of keeping his word. She didn’t mean to sound heartless, but Cecilia doubted it.
Peering through the office window behind her, Allison sprang from her chair. “They’re back!” Without another word, she hurried out of her father’s office.
Cecilia sat down at her own desk and waited. Mr. Cox greeted her absently as he walked past. He didn’t say where he’d been and when he entered his office, he closed the door.
Several minutes passed before Allison returned, her eyes swollen and red.
“Is everything all right?” Cecilia asked, worried by the girl’s continuing distress.
Allison sniffled and attempted a smile. “The judge went along with the plea agreement. Anson starts work this afternoon, so we didn’t have any time to talk. Next spring, he has to help clean the park for his community service hours. He said he’ll put almost all the money from his job toward restitution, and as soon as it’s paid off we can see each other again. Oh, Cecilia, I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Do what?”
“Not be with Anson,” she said impatiently. “I love him so much. Mom and Dad keep saying I’m too young to know about love, but I know what I feel. It’s…it’s like my heart’s being ripped out.” She shook her head angrily and declared, “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Really?” Cecilia challenged. “Don’t you think it’s difficult for me when my husband’s out at sea for six months?”
Allison’s gaze shot up. “Oh, Cecilia, I’m sorry, of course it is. And you’re pregnant, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
Cecilia hugged the girl, just so Allison would realize there were no hard feelings. She remembered the intensity of her own emotions the first time she fell in love. That relationship had ended badly in her senior year of high school. She hoped Allison’s experience wouldn’t be nearly as traumatic as hers had been.
Nineteen
Linnette had accepted a second date with Cal Washburn, and she regretted it. In fact, she’d regretted it from the moment she’d said yes. He’d phoned shortly after Thanksgiving and before she could think better of it, Linnette had agreed to see him again. Cal was nice enough. His only shortcoming was that he wasn’t Chad Timmons. Besides, she felt guilty; she’d been willing to see him a second time for just one reason—to make Chad jealous. Not that she’d seen any evidence her ploy had worked.
“I should call and cancel this date right now,” Linnette muttered to Gloria, who sat on the end of her bed. “I feel awful.”
Gloria was on her way home from work and had stopped by to invite Linnette out for dinner. Any other night Linnette would’ve leapt at the offer. Being new in town, she was grateful to have a friend.
“Bet the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach has nothing to do with the flu.”
“You’re right,” Linnette said. She slipped on her black boots and decided to add a black knitted vest over her red blouse. The vest, one of her favorites, was decorated with sequined Christmas trees. She’d hoped to wear it when Chad asked her out, but so far that hadn’t happened. If he didn’t show any interest soon, the holidays would be over and it’d be too late to wear the vest for another eleven months.
Linnette eyed her neighbor skeptically and wondered if Chad had called her. He’d expressed an interest in Gloria, but judging by the little she’d managed to pick up in conversation—she didn’t want to be too obvious—Gloria hadn’t heard from him. Well, maybe she had, but if so, she hadn’t mentioned it.
“So you’re going out to dinner alone? Does that happen often?” she asked, hoping for more information about Gloria’s social life.
Gloria shrugged. “Since you’re busy, I’ll probably just order in. Maybe from Wok and Roll. I’m in the mood for something hot and spicy.”
Linnette sighed. “Oh,” she murmured, genuinely disappointed. “I love their food. I wish I could join you.”
“Another time,” Gloria said. Straightening, she glanced at her watch. “I better get out of here before your date shows up.”
Just then the doorbell chimed.
“Too late,” Linnette whispered, dreading the evening more with every minute.
“Just remember what you said earlier,” Gloria reminded her. “You want to let him down gently.”
“You’re right, I do. He’s a really nice person. Actually, I’m glad you’re here so you can meet him. Then you’ll understand my dilemma. He’s charming and witty, but it can be hard to hold a conversation and—”
“Don’t you think you should answer the door?”
“Oh, right.” Linnette hurried into the other room and opened her door.
Cal stood there holding a small potted poinsettia. “Merry Christmas,” he said without a hint of a stutter.
“You brought that for me?” The answer was obvious and Linnette felt even more uncomfortable. Silently she vowed she’d make sure he understood this was their last date. It was the right thing to do.
“For you.” His gaze moved past her to Gloria, who stepped out of the other room.
“Cal, this is my friend and neighbor Gloria.” As she spoke, she set the plant on her coffee table, where it provided a festive touch.
Gloria came forward with her hand extended. “Hello, Cal, I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”
Cal’s gaze shot to Linnette, and he seemed both pleased and surprised. “My p-pleas-sure,” he said, shaking hands.
“I’ll check in with you after the weekend,” Gloria said as she moved past Cal on her way out the door. “Have fun, you two.”
“I’ll just grab my coat and gloves,” Linnette said and momentarily left him. She opened the hall closet to retrieve what she needed, and for good measure, added a wool scarf. When she’d agreed to go out with Cal, they hadn’t decided what to do. She’d suggested a movie. That sounded less demanding than attempting to carry on a conversation over dinner. Because she wasn’t all that interested, she hadn’t bothered to look at the movie listings.
When she returned, Cal’s appreciative smile warmed her. He took her coat and as he held it, she slid her arms into the sleeves, almost wishing he didn’t possess such impeccable manners. Not looking at him, she buttoned her coat, wrapped the scarf around her neck and put on her gloves. They left the apartment and she locked the door, testing the doorknob—just like her father always did.
“Did you decide which movie you want to see?” she asked as they started down the staircase. The wind chilled her face immediately and it seemed about to snow.
He shook his head. “Did you?”
“Oh, I didn’t really look. Should I go back to the apartment and get the paper?”
He shook his head again. “H-hungry?” he asked.
“Not very. I had a late lunch.”
They continued walking, and Linnette had to admit that Cal was an attractive man. She liked the way his Stetson shaded his face, giving him a mysterious look. He wore a sheepskin coat and leather gloves, and he reminded her of a young Clint Eastwood, back in his spaghetti western days.
“Let’s…j-just walk,” he suggested.
“Okay, if that’s what you want.”
Cal tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and they ambled down Harbor Street. Linnette thought the traffic—both vehicle and foot traffic—was particularly heavy for a Saturday night, but didn’t comment. Several other observations occurred to her, but she resisted mentioning them, fearing Cal would feel obliged to respond. Conversation often seemed awkward for him. After a few minutes, she came to enjoy the companionable silence.
Then suddenly it was impossible to remain silent. “It’s snowing!” she cried when a fat, moist snowflake fell on her nose, surprising her. “Cal, look! It’s actually snowing.”
He laughed at her obvious delight. “I see.”
“We never get snow….” In the light of the street lamps, Linnette saw his face break into a broad smile. “I mean, we get snow, but it’s so rare, especially this close to the waterfront.”
“Christmas,” he added.
“Oh, I agree. It’s absolutely perfect that it’s December and Christmas is only about two weeks away.”
They followed the sidewalk past the waterfront park and the marina and rounded the curve toward the clinic and City Hall. By that time, the snow was coming down fast and furious.
Fascinated as she was by the snow, Linnette didn’t immediately notice that all the traffic was going in the same direction they were. Everyone, it seemed, was headed toward a group of carolers who lined the steps of the City Hall building. They were dressed in Victorian costume for a Dickensian Christmas, their songbooks held open.
They began with “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” and followed that with “Deck the Halls.”
Caught up in the sheer wonder and joy of the season, Linnette could only listen raptly. She counted three- or possibly four-part harmony. The performance was lovely in every way. The carolers in their costumes, the large decorated tree, the snow—it was about as idyllic a Christmas scene as Linnette could have imagined.
She watched the performance with Cal standing behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, and she realized his body was blocking the wind. Once again she wished he wasn’t so thoughtful.
Afterward, when the carolers had finished, and the Christmas tree was lit to an enthusiastic burst of applause, Cal suggested a cup of hot cocoa at the Potbelly Deli. Chilled to the bone, Linnette readily agreed. They were fortunate to find a table by the big potbellied stove in the middle of the restaurant. The heat radiating from it soon warmed her. She recognized several people and they exchanged smiles.
The hot chocolate was delicious and served with a candy cane, in honor of the season. She and Cal shared a plate of shortbread cookies cut in Christmas shapes—trees and bells and snowmen. Then Linnette bundled herself up again and they walked toward her apartment. Once more, Cal tucked her arm in his elbow. This was the time to tell him it was over, but she couldn’t make herself do it, knowing her announcement would destroy the festive mood.
“That was just wonderful,” she said, her steps easily keeping pace with his.
“Yes,” he murmured.
“So Christmassy.” She hadn’t felt much Christmas spirit yet. She blamed Chad for her lack of holiday cheer; she’d assumed that once they were working at the same place, they’d be spending a lot of time together. But that hadn’t turned out to be true; they saw each other only in passing and hardly ever had a chance to talk. She wondered darkly if he’d planned it that way.
As they neared her apartment complex, Linnette tried to decide whether it would be a good idea to invite Cal inside. Not to offer might be rude. On the other hand, if he accepted, he might want to kiss her and she couldn’t let that happen.
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series Page 136
