Anything for Her

by Janice Kay Johnson

  He’d found another photo. He handed it over and took the one from her hand. He laughed softly, looking at his sister. “Yeah. She grumbled all afternoon getting ready. I kept saying, ‘You don’t have to go,’ and she’d snap, ‘Yes, I do and you know why.’”

  “Why?”

  “There was this bitch at school who headed the popular clique and loved nothing better than belittling everyone else. I think it got so she was Anna’s personal nemesis. She predicted—loudly—that no one would ask Anna to prom. By that time Anna was asserting her calling as an artist partly by wearing sacky jeans or even overalls stained by clay or glazes all the time. Clunky boots. Flannel shirts.” Nolan smiled, remembering.

  “My little sister. Mouthy, abrasive, didn’t take any shit from anyone. Now, she wouldn’t let some stuck-up airhead get to her, but she was a teenager, after all. She had some guys who were buddies, and bullied one of them into taking her to prom. I think they stayed all of a couple of hours, breathed a sigh of relief and went home.” He set down the photo. “Anna’s...well, not a beauty, but closer now. The men like her, anyhow. She’s always got one around.”

  Lifting the other picture, Allie recognized it as a senior photo. Nolan’s brother appeared terribly young and yet didn’t have that unfinished look either his sister or Nolan did. He was conventionally handsome, his brown hair lying smooth, his smile for the camera confident and unshadowed.

  “He really doesn’t look like you,” she said, handing it back. “Or Anna, does he?”

  “No. Jed takes after our...his father. Anna and I...who knows? Except her coloring comes from Mom. Her eyes, too, I guess.”

  “You don’t think you might have the same father? It seems as if you have the same bone structure.”

  “I doubt it.” But he studied the photo again for a moment before carefully tucking both back into his wallet and restoring it to his hip pocket.

  She might have argued had his tone not been so final. Because he knew something about one or the other of their fathers? Because he didn’t want to know? Or because he hated the idea that his mother might keep going back to the same man even more than he hated the idea of serial affairs?

  “Do you have a picture of your brother?” he asked. Which she supposed was a natural question.

  “I...actually do,” she admitted. “His prom picture. What an awful moment for all of us to be frozen in time.”

  She went to get it from her purse, locked behind the counter. There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t show it to Nolan, was there? She couldn’t think of one. She also kept a picture of her father in her wallet and couldn’t think of any reason not to show Nolan that one, too.

  He took them from her with such care, it was obvious he thought she was giving him a gift in sharing them with him. That made her ashamed. He hadn’t hesitated to take out the pictures of his sister and brother, while having to pry every nugget of information about her family from her.

  He studied both photos for a long time, as if fascinated. “You do look more like your mother,” he said at last. “Except for the coloring. Both you and your brother—Jason?—got that from your dad.”

  The bell over the door rang and she turned her head to see that a couple of women had come in. They weren’t regulars. She stood and called, “Hi, I’ll be right with you.”

  Nolan returned the pictures to her with what she thought was reluctance. “I’d better get back to work, and let you do the same.”

  “Thank you for bringing lunch,” she said.

  “I wanted to see you.” He glanced toward the women, who had their backs turned, and kissed Allie. “I’ll call,” he said roughly.

  She tried to smile. “Please.”

  “Allie, I wish I thought...” He shook his head. “Never mind. This isn’t the time.” He nodded toward the customers. “I’ll clean up. Go on.”

  She did, but was very aware when he left a minute later without saying anything else to her. The panic that felt like a small bird trapped in her chest was with her every time she saw him lately, and every time he left and she had to wonder if she’d given away anything new this time.

  Fairfield. She had admitted to that, but couldn’t see how it mattered. Although Mom wouldn’t be happy.

  Quite suddenly she had a headache. Her stomach felt queasy, too, and she began to regret the soup.

  I don’t know if I can keep doing this.

  But she’d continue to feel as if she was being torn in two as long as she and Nolan were together.

  She saw her mother’s face. Heard her say, You’re the one person in the world I’ve always been able to depend on.

  And then Nolan, implacable, asking, Where in Oklahoma?

  Allie had to close her eyes against the pain that stabbed her temple.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SO NOW HE knew where she’d gone to high school, Nolan thought on the drive home. Assuming she’d told the truth. He’d seen the alarm in her eyes when he pressed for specifics. Would he find there even was a town of Fairfield near Tulsa? And, goddamn it, what was he going to do if there wasn’t?

  Or, for that matter, if there was. Fly there next weekend and show her picture around town? From what she’d said, she had moved away over ten years ago, and she might not have lived there that long. She kept repeating that her family had moved a lot.

  He wondered if there was a way he could track Allie’s brother. Wright was a common enough last name, but hadn’t Allie mentioned that the guy was still in the Tulsa area? If so, that would be a place to start.

  Nolan made himself go back to work when he got home, but brooded all afternoon. He had to lay off when it was time to pick Sean up after basketball practice. Seeing him walking out of the gym with a cluster of other boys, laughing and talking, stopping once to half wrestle with one of them, that was a bright spot in Nolan’s day. Sean had started getting phone calls at home over the past week or two. And he was talking about teammates in the casual way that suggested they were becoming friends.

  “Eric says he skis, but Coach doesn’t like it ’cause he’s sure he’ll break a leg and be out midseason. But, man, I’d really like to learn. He says I could ride up with his family...” Or, “Aidan’s got a twin sister. Did I tell you that? He’s kind of doofus looking, but she’s sort of hot. I mean, you know.” His hands shaped a pair of stupendous breasts. “He said she wanted to know who I was.”

  Today, he hopped in the truck, fastened the seat belt and planted his feet on the dashboard. “So, I made this awesome pass to Jared and then went for the key. He totally faked out Dylan, spun like he was going to shoot and then zapped the ball to me. I laid it up so sweet.” He pumped his fist. “After practice Coach said he thinks we’re going to have a fabulous season.”

  Nolan grinned at him. “That’s great. All that time you’ve been putting in on the hoop at home is paying off, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “I’m going to kick Allie’s butt the next time we play, too.”

  “She was pretty amazing for someone who probably hadn’t shot a basket in years.”

  Sean grunted his agreement. “It’s like...her body is totally centered. You know? There’s the way she moves, and she has this sense of where she is in relation to everything else. I bet she could have done something like gymnastics.”

  “I’ve had the same thought. She did say she took dance lessons when she was a kid.”

  Sean started grumbling about a paper he had due, and Nolan was just as glad not to talk about Allie anymore. He was too troubled by his thoughts. He knew she was lying to him, damn it! He only wished he could tell which things that came out of her mouth were lies, and which were truth.

  That evening after dinner he went online and verified that, indeed, Tulsa had a suburb named Fairfield. And she was right, there were a lot of other towns named Fairfield around the country, starting with one in California.

  So now what? he asked himself. Call the high school and ask for verification that Allie Wright had indeed att
ended? What excuse could he give? Did schools give out that kind of information?

  He frowned. Why wouldn’t they?

  Try.

  Come morning, he stood there with the phone in his hand, and conducted a serious argument with himself. How would he feel, if he found out Allie was doing a background check on him because she doubted what he’d told her about himself? Trust was part of a relationship, wasn’t it?

  But I know she’s lying.

  Did that excuse him? He wasn’t sure. Was he exhibiting signs of major paranoia? Probably.

  But he hated lies with a passion. And he faced the fact that he had to know, one way or another. Please God, may she never find out he’d made this call, he thought, dialing the number for information.

  A couple of minutes later, he was talking to a school secretary at Fairfield High School. He claimed to be a potential employer wanting to verify attendance and graduation.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” the woman said cheerily.

  He heard a keyboard clicking, some mumbles.

  “I’m sorry,” the secretary finally told him. “I’m unable to find any student named Allie Wright. I tried Allison and some other variations. What years do you believe she attended?”

  He told her. More tapping.

  The answer was “no.” There had been students with a last name of Wright, of course. Perhaps Allie was a middle name or nickname? He said he’d find out and ended the call.

  He swore aloud, resisting the urge to throw the phone.

  Now what? Call her on her lie? But what if Allie was her middle name? Did he admit what he’d done?

  “Goddamn it,” he growled.

  His doubt hung heavy on him all day, disrupting his concentration. He got careless and broke a saw blade, the piece flying away barely missing his arm. He swore some more and managed to pay more attention until the time came to pick up Sean again after practice.

  He’d vowed not to say anything to Sean about his fear that Allie was lying to him. “I don’t seem to have it together today,” he admitted, once Sean got in and slammed the door. “You okay with stopping for a pizza on the way home?”

  “Is Scarlett Johansson hot?” the teenager said.

  Nolan had to blink. Well, yeah. He’d take that as a yes.

  At his favorite pizza parlor, they ordered, then settled at their table with glasses of soda. He wasn’t much of a drinker; he had an occasional beer at home, but he wanted to be sure he set a no-drinking-and-driving example for a kid Sean’s age.

  “So, did you ever ask Allie about the Oklahoma thing?” Sean surprised him by asking.

  “Yeah. She says her mother is the one who wants to pretend they never lived there.” He should stop there, he knew he should. “But I could tell Allie was uneasy about the whole thing. Wish I knew why.”

  “You can look, you know.”

  Nolan stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, lots of high schools have their yearbooks online now.” He shrugged. “I mean, you guys were in high school a long time ago. Maybe those old yearbooks aren’t up, but you could check.”

  “Allie is only twenty-eight,” Nolan said mildly.

  Sean looked at him as if he was an idiot. “That’s ten years ago.”

  “You’re making me feel like an old man. I don’t like it.”

  The kid laughed at him. “You’re getting, like, middle-aged, you know. That’s almost old.”

  “Thank you.” He shook his head. “They just called our number. My arthritis is acting up. You go get the pizza.”

  Sean thought that was pretty funny. He was chortling when he slid out of the booth and headed toward the front.

  “Yearbooks are really online?” Nolan asked him, when he returned with two plates and an extra-large pizza with everything on it. “Where anyone can look at them? I didn’t photograph well.” Or should he have said, I don’t photograph well?

  Sean surveyed him with a critical eye while still managing to take a bite and chew enthusiastically at the same time. “Yeah,” he finally decided, “that’s probably because your face isn’t really together. You know? It’s kind of bony, and your hair is always sticking out, and...”

  Nolan held up a hand to silence him. “If you keep going, my ego may never recover.”

  Sean shrugged. “Allie likes you, so what difference does it make what you look like?”

  “That’s true.” Of course, that was assuming Allie wasn’t conning him big-time.

  But...why would she be? What did she have to gain from pretending to like him? From making up a background that would satisfy him?

  None of it made any sense. His original questions had been casual; he didn’t care where she’d grown up or gone to high school. He’d never have given her answers a second thought if she hadn’t been so obviously evasive, and if then she hadn’t lied.

  Or her mother lied, he reminded himself.

  “I can help you find her yearbook online if you want,” Sean offered. “If you don’t think you can.”

  “It’s probably not beyond my abilities,” Nolan said drily. “If I fail, you can be my backup.”

  “Maybe she looked dorky in high school. She might have had zits all over her face, or dyed her hair blond or had a whole bunch of piercings.”

  Nolan finally did laugh. “In which case, I won’t recognize her.”

  Sean pondered for another minute. “I bet Allie never had zits.”

  “I bet not, too.”

  When they got home, Nolan did not rush straight to his computer. He would be happiest if Sean didn’t know how serious he was about this search. The kid kept popping out of his room to ask questions for his research paper and then to tell Nolan this cool thing that had happened today and that sucky one. At long last, he disappeared and stayed disappeared.

  Nolan went online.

  It took some doing, but damned if Sean wasn’t right. It appeared that many if not most high schools now put the yearbooks up on the internet. What’s more, they were apparently going back and putting the old ones up, too. If Nolan wanted, he could probably hunt for his parents’.

  As it happened, he’d seen their yearbooks. Those photos had cemented his awareness that he did not in any way resemble the man he had always called Dad. Once he’d known the truth, he’d felt dumb for not suspecting sooner.

  Shaking off thoughts about his lying parents, he zeroed in on Fairfield High School, Oklahoma—the computer seemed determined to divert him to a high school with the same name in another state.

  Allie had moved at the beginning of her senior year, she’d said. Probably before photos were taken. He found the year before she’d moved, although he could conceivably be a year off, depending on whether she was almost twenty-nine or barely twenty-eight. The search by name brought up one student with the last name of Wright—a boy named James. He took a careful look, but the kid was skinny, blond and had a big nose. Not Allie’s brother—and hadn’t she said he was older than her, anyway? He’d presumably already graduated the year she was a junior.

  Grimly determined, Nolan scrolled through the freshmen. Despite his mood, he found it briefly entertaining, since Sean was that age. The prettiest girls were trying so hard to look sophisticated, the rest of the girls were clearly wishing to be anywhere at all but in front of the camera, and the boys might as well have been eight-year-olds who’d grown strangely tall. Except for one—a guy with serious shoulders who was probably already shaving and could have been eighteen. Maybe he’d been held back a year. Or not. Nolan had had a classmate like that. He got all the girls until the rest of the boys starting catching up, maturity-wise, their junior and senior years. Nolan smiled reminiscently. He’d been pretty damn happy when he started needing to shave—and when he’d realized he was as tall as Mitch Judson.

  Sophomores were noticeably more relaxed. Even the girls who weren’t the prettiest were using makeup with more confidence, relaxing into who they were. Allie’s face was not among them.

  He w
as feeling some reluctance by the time he started in on the juniors. Was he really so set on confirming that she’d lied to him? And he already knew there was no Allie Wright among the students pictured in this yearbook. He was being stubborn, that’s all, not wanting to admit she’d really do that to him.

  That he meant so little to her.

  Halfway through, he was only glancing from face to face. He’d lost interest in reflecting on his own high school years, or how Sean would change so much over the next two years. He felt a little sick. Could he possibly have been so wrong about Allie?

  His gaze stopped on some poor kid with the unenviable last name of Parfomchuk. Bet he’d spend his whole life having to spell his name.

  But that wasn’t what had stopped Nolan. Going back, his eye reluctantly passed over several faces—Opgaard, Oliver, Oakes, Numley, Neumiller...Nelson.

  Stunned, he found himself looking at a very young and pretty Allie Wright—whose name, according to the yearbook, had been Laura Nelson.

  He closed his eyes then opened them again. Yep. It was still undeniably her. Different, of course; at sixteen, she’d been astonishingly beautiful, and yet unlike most of the other girls she wasn’t smiling. Her expression was...shy, maybe, but also grave.

  He imagined her walking through the halls of the high school with that untouchable air. Pretty as a fairy princess, but he still bet she’d been labeled stuck-up. Unless the day this picture had been taken was a very bad one for young Laura Nelson.

  And just who in the hell was Laura Nelson?

  Or maybe the better question was, why, when Allie and her mother ran, had they been so scared they assumed new identities?

  And what would Allie say if he asked her?

  * * *

  NOLAN BROODED ABOUT it for three straight days.

  He called Allie Wednesday night and they talked for nearly half an hour, but his questions weren’t the kind he wanted to ask when he couldn’t see her face.

  Thursday he took lunch to her shop again. He would have sworn she was glad to see him—but he also saw the flicker of apprehension in her beautiful green-gold eyes. She didn’t used to be nervous with him, but she was now, and he didn’t like knowing that.