Allison O'Brian on Her Own

by Melody Carlson

  Afternoon sunlight flooded the den with cheerful warmth. Allison glanced at the bookshelves that lined the walls, studying her grandpa’s favorite room. It was such a painful reminder to her that he was gone. And as hard as it was for her to believe she would never see him again, it was just as shocking for them all to discover that James O’Brian, Allison’s father, was very much alive and had been living out at the lighthouse. What a happy reunion they had shared when Allison and James returned to the house and surprised everyone there.

  At the moment, James was scratching his head and rummaging through Grandpa’s desk. At last he stopped and waved the familiar yellowed envelope. Allison knew it contained the letter she’d discovered in her mother’s things in New York.

  “This is it, Allison! My ticket to freedom! This letter proves those charges of embezzlement were completely false! I can’t believe Marsha kept it hidden all these years—even during the war.” He sighed deeply and shook his head.

  Allison couldn’t believe it, either. Why Marsha had allowed him to be blamed like that when she knew the truth all along was a mystery. Could she have possibly tucked it away and just forgotten?

  James pulled some more papers from a heavy brown folder. “And here’s the other letter you told me about, Allison. The one Father wrote before he—” James’ voice choked and he sunk into the chair, gazing blankly at the documents spread across the desk. His head sagged slightly, and Allison knew the reality of Grandpa’s death was sinking in for him as well.

  “I think I’d better take the kids home,” Grace said. She had been sitting quietly in the corner, and she rose slowly, her eyes still fixed on James. “I’m sure they’re exhausted from searching for Allison.”

  “I’m so sorry I worried you all like that, Grace,” Allison said. Her secret trip to the lighthouse had given them quite a scare.

  “It’s all right, Allison. Under the circumstances, I can certainly understand why you took off without telling us. And it is wonderful to have James back—back among the living. It’s just so unbelievably amazing—” Grace looked like she was about to cry again.

  “I’m sorry, Grace. I invited you in so I could try to explain everything. . . .” James paused, running his hand over his father’s desk. “But I’m having a hard time with all of this. I can’t believe that I’ll never see him again—” His voice caught slightly and he stared down at the letter in his hand. Allison could see that it was typed on Grandpa’s stationery. The room grew hushed as he read silently. Allison tried not to stare at the tear that slid down her father’s face. He wiped it with the back of his hand, then he set the letter down and looked up. “It helps to read this—it’s almost as if he knew he was going to die. He actually took the time to write that he’d forgiven me, and he even asked me to forgive him.”

  “Dad, that’s wonderful,” Allison breathed. “Now at least we know he made peace in his heart before—”

  “Hello in there,” Andrew called, standing tall in the doorway. At sixteen, he was the oldest of Grace’s three adopted children. Grace had told Allison how Andrew had taken charge of the frantic search for her, making the phone calls and such. “Muriel wants to know if everyone wants lunch.” He winked at Allison. “And we haven’t eaten since last night, thanks to a certain renegade who shall remain nameless.”

  “Of course,” James said as if coming to his senses. “You all must be starved! You will stay, won’t you, Grace? No sense to run off just yet. You know how Muriel is about these things. Cooking is what she lives for, and she’s probably slaughtered the fatted calf by now.” James reached out for Grace’s hand.

  Grace’s face flushed as she pulled her hand away. “Oh, I suppose . . . if it’s no trouble. We don’t want to intrude—”

  “Grace, you know you’re like family to us!” Allison exclaimed. “I’ll go help Muriel.”

  Heather Amberwell was already sitting at the scrubbed pine table peeling carrots while her nine-year-old brother, Winston, bounced about the kitchen like an over-wound toy.

  “It’s about time, Allison,” Heather scolded. “Did you think you’d get out of kitchen duty just because we all thought you drowned at sea?”

  Allison laughed and marveled at Heather’s ability to recognize people by their footsteps. “I was going to offer my help in here, Muriel, but Heather’s being so sassy maybe I’ll just—”

  “You get right over here, Allison Mercury O’Brian!” Muriel commanded, wiping her hands on her apron. Muriel’s face was still blotchy from their emotional reunion, and she grabbed Allison and embraced her for the third time that morning. Allison didn’t mind one bit. “Now, don’t you ever go running off like that again—you hear?” Muriel said in a voice that was supposed to sound stern.

  Allison nodded. “I promise.”

  “Allison, it was really brave of you to take the rowboat out there in the middle of that horrible squall!” Heather exclaimed, tossing a handful of sliced carrots into a copper saucepan. One spun across the table, and Allison snatched it and popped it in her mouth.

  “Ha!” Muriel remarked. “It was more a case of plumb craziness than bravery if you ask me.”

  “Allison?” Winston asked. “Is it true you rowed all the way out to the lighthouse in that awful storm? Weren’t you scared? Didn’t you think the mad lighthouse keeper would get you?”

  “You bet I was scared, Winston, but Muriel’s right—I was kind of crazy at the time. It’s not something I’d ever do again.”

  Muriel sighed loudly, and Winston looked at Allison as if she were his new hero. She grinned and tousled his sandy hair.

  “I’ll set the table, Muriel,” Allison offered. She carried the dishes to the dining room and opened the double-glass doors to let the sun in. Outside, the garden glowed with rich colors, and Allison breathed in the fresh sea air. It was good to be home.

  An engine rumbled down the driveway, followed by the crunch of gravel beneath tires. Allison stepped out to see a large dark car followed by a black-and-white police car slowly pulling up to park. Allison hurried around the corner of the house just in time to spy her mother’s secretary, Lola Stevens, climbing out of the first car. Allison cringed behind the thick laurel hedge as she watched Lola stride over to the police car and hand the officer a thick manila envelope.

  If Lola thought she could take Allison back to New York, she had another thing to think about. Her father would put a stop to it. He had that letter now. He could prove his innocence. He’d know just what to do to send Lola packing. Allison dashed through the house and burst into the den, interrupting James and Grace, who were in deep conversation.

  “She’s here!” Allison gasped.

  “Who’s here?” James asked, noticing the fear in Allison’s voice.

  “Lola Stevens—Marsha’s secretary from New York. She’s here! She’s going to take me away!”

  “Calm down, Allison. We can handle this. I remember Lola. She wasn’t an unreasonable woman.” James headed for the front door, and Allison wondered if they were thinking of the same Lola Stevens. Grace slipped her arm around Allison’s waist.

  “Don’t worry, dear. We won’t let them take you—we’ll fight them tooth and nail.”

  Allison gave her a weary smile and tried her hardest to believe Grace’s words. James opened the door just as the bell rang.

  “Lola,” he said pleasantly. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

  Lola’s eyes popped open wide and her jaw actually dropped, revealing an unattractive double chin. “Oh my goodness! James O’Brian? Is that really you? I thought you were dead!”

  “No, I’m quite alive, as you can see. Come in, come in. We were just getting ready to sit down for lunch. Care to join us?” James opened the door wider, revealing a uniformed policeman. James’ friendliness caught Allison off guard, and Lola looked absolutely stunned.

  “No—no, thank you,” Lola stammered, struggling to gather her wits. “Where in the world have you been all these years, James?” she asked with u
ndisguised suspicion.

  “Well, Lola, it’s a long story, and I’m certain the version you heard was not the truth.”

  Lola cleared her throat and straightened her short military-style jacket. Her hat was small and low on her brow, and if she only had a German accent, she’d surely have passed as a Nazi defector.

  “I’ve come on a rather serious matter, James.” Lola glanced over at Allison with steel blue eyes. “We’ve got a kidnapping charge against your father, a Mr. Riley O’Brian.”

  “I tried to explain to Miss Stevens here,” the officer began in an apologetic tone, “that Mr. O’Brian just passed away last week and that he would never kidnap anyone.”

  “Regardless of that,” Lola continued, “I have a legal document that clearly states Allison’s custody is Marsha Madison’s responsibility along with another letter declaring Marsha’s wish for her daughter’s swift return to Camp Wannatonka—as if she were ever there in the first place.” Lola directed the last comment to Allison with a knowing look.

  “Well, I have a couple of letters myself,” James said. “And I plan to speak to a lawyer as soon as possible concerning my daughter’s custody. In the meantime, Lola, don’t you think it would be in Allison’s best interest to stay here until this is settled? You know she’s in good hands. Besides, Marsha is still on location in Istanbul.”

  “Where Miss Madison is has nothing to do with this, Mr. O’Brian. Allison must return with me now, or we will charge you with kidnapping—right, Officer?” The policeman looked at the papers and nodded his head reluctantly.

  Allison stepped forward in anger. “What about me? Don’t I get anything to say about this? I want to stay here with my dad! Can’t you just tell Marsha that, Lola? If you make me leave him, I’ll just run away again! I will, I really will!”

  “Is this true?” James asked the officer. “Does Lola really have the legal right to take Allison even though I’m her father?”

  “According to this court order. Frankly, I don’t see a reason for it, but the law’s the law. Unless Miss Madison gives some sort of special permission, the young lady will have to return with Miss Stevens here.”

  James clenched his fists and scowled. “I can’t believe it! What kind of legal system takes a child from her father against her own free will just to dump her in a camp with a bunch of strangers?” The officer frowned but didn’t waver. James’ face was red and his eyes burned with anger. He turned and stormed off to the den, slamming the door behind him. Allison watched in dismay. Her father was supposed to help her—to save her from Marsha. What was happening?

  “Officer,” Grace implored in a consolatory tone. “Would there be any harm in waiting a couple days before Allison returns with Miss Stevens? After all, she needs time to pack, and she’s been through quite an ordeal recently with her grandfather’s death and all.”

  He nodded in sympathy. “Sure, I don’t see a reason why she has to leave right this very minute. But don’t let me down. Like I said, the law’s the law. Come on, Miss Stevens, let’s allow these people to eat their lunch in peace.” He took her by the arm and, against her protests, practically pulled her down the steps.

  “Thanks, Grace,” Allison sighed. “But what am I going to do now?” The others gathered around, emerging from hallways and corners.

  “We won’t let that nasty old witch take Allison away!” Winston exclaimed, stomping his foot for emphasis. “Maybe we could make a booby trap for the next time she comes.”

  “Winston!” Grace reprimanded.

  “But we have to do something, Grace,” Andrew spoke up. “They can’t take her because a stupid piece of paper says so—can they?”

  Allison scowled. This was her home now, and she was tired of running. There must be some way out. But how?

  The door to the den opened and James stepped out. “I’m sorry, Allison, but I had to leave. I was afraid I’d lose my temper if I stayed one moment longer, and that would only get us into more hot water. I have some good news, though. I just phoned my father’s attorney in Port View, and he thinks we have a strong case. Unfortunately, he advised me to go along with Marsha for the time being. That’s so Marsha can’t use it against us later when we go to court.”

  “What do you mean, go along with Marsha?” Allison questioned, panic rising in her throat.

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to let Lola take you back for a little while. At least until we can sort this all out the right way.”

  “But how long will that take?” Allison moaned.

  “I don’t know. Maybe when Marsha realizes I have these letters she’ll change her tune. But even if she doesn’t, we can’t give up. If we have to jump through rings of fire to get you—we will.”

  “Somehow we’ll beat them at this,” Muriel proclaimed from behind Allison. “In the meantime, lunch is getting cold. And if we’re going to figure something out, we need some nourishment to help our brains work.” In spite of herself, Allison smiled. Leave it to Muriel to suppose a good meal would drive their troubles away.

  The room was quiet as they ate. Allison looked around the table. For once Grandmother Mercury’s dining room looked as it should—full of people. And yet such somber faces. Andrew and Winston sat across from her, glumly poking their food. James and Grace sat at opposite ends, both deep in contemplation.

  “Allison,” Heather whispered beside her. “I read a story about a summer camp once, and I thought it sounded like such fun. Maybe you’ll enjoy it after all . . . swimming and boating and . . .

  Allison sighed and shook her head. She knew Heather was just trying to cheer her up, but in this case, maybe Heather was lucky to be blind—she’d never have to go to one of those dreadful camps. “Oh, Heather, maybe I could survive that stupid old camp if I had you and your Pollyanna outlook along with me.”

  “That’s it!” Andrew exclaimed. “Why don’t we send Heather along with Allison! They’d have a terrific time together.”

  Heather laughed. “I’d love to go, but I’m sure they don’t allow blind girls—”

  “Why not?” Allison interrupted, catching Andrew’s enthusiasm. “Besides, they wouldn’t have to know you’re blind—it’s not like it’s on their admission form or anything. And everyone knows you can do almost all the same things as the rest of us, and then some! If you came, Heather, it might even be fun!”

  “Hold on now, girls,” Grace said. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

  “But, Grace,” Allison pleaded. “You said yourself you always allow Heather to live a normal life.”

  “And if money’s a problem,” James chimed in, “I discovered a document regarding my father’s will. It seems he’s left everything to Allison and me. We could pay Heather’s way.”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m sure Allison would watch out for her. It’s just that—”

  “Oh, please, Grace. It’d be such fun!” Heather begged.

  “Will you promise to be extra careful?” Grace asked doubtfully. James grinned across the table, then Grace chuckled and shook her head. “I guess I could let you go.”

  A cheer erupted around the table, and Allison squeezed Heather’s hand. Suddenly, Camp Wannatonka didn’t sound quite so horrible. But then Allison remembered her conversation with the young man she’d met on the train when she was traveling to Oregon.

  “Dad, I met a boy on the train from New York to Oregon. His name is John Stewart, and he works at a Christian camp in northern Ohio. From what he described, it sounded really nice. I’m sure I still have the camp’s address. Do you think there’s any way we could talk Lola into this camp instead of cruddy old Camp Wannatonka?”

  “I don’t know why not—I’m sure it’s worth a try. Maybe we should wire that camp in Ohio first to make certain they have space available, then we’ll make the arrangements.”

  The next day, Allison drove with her father up to the cemetery overlooking the ocean. She took a large bouquet of Grandmother Mercury’s favorite roses and divided t
hem between her grandparents’ graves. She could hardly remember the foggy morning only days before when they’d gathered here for Grandpa’s funeral. At that time, she’d had no idea that her father was alive. All she remembered from that day was a cold emptiness inside her. It seemed like another lifetime now. She stepped back and watched her father stand before the gravestones that marked the last link to his parents. The scene blurred in her own eyes, and she brushed a tear off her cheek.

  “At least we still have each other, Dad,” she said, slipping her hand into his.

  “That’s right, Allison. And I will not let them take you away from me. Never again.”

  When they returned home, Muriel met them at the door waving a telegram in her hands. “It’s from the camp in Ohio!” she exclaimed. “They’ll take the girls—they’ll take them both! They want you to call at once to confirm their arrival time.”

  Allison hugged Muriel and dashed for the phone. “I’ve got to tell Heather!” she cried.

  Later that evening, Allison and James ate dinner in the kitchen with George and Muriel.

  “This clam chowder is just as delicious as ever, Muriel.” James refilled his bowl with the thick, hearty soup.

  “You were always such a good eater, Jamie,” Muriel said as if James were still in knickers. “Here, have another biscuit.”

  “Muriel, I’ll sure miss your cooking. Have you ever tasted camp food?” Allison spooned out a dollop of fresh strawberry jam.

  George grinned. “Well, Muriel could fix you up some goodies to take—couldn’t you, Muriel?”

  “Of course! In fact, I’ve already started a provisions box for the girls.”

  After dinner, James sorted and organized a mound of papers from Grandpa’s desk. Allison read for a while, but soon her eyes refused to focus and she got up to get ready for bed. She hesitated in the doorway for a minute, unsure of how to approach her father. “Dad?” she began. “Would it be okay for me to kiss you good-night?”

  “It’s more than okay, Allison. It’s a requirement.” She giggled and planted a kiss firmly on his stubbly cheek.