“I really haven’t given it much thought, Allison. We want you to be there, of course. Maybe if you get to come at Christmas we could plan something then.”
“That would be nice.” Why didn’t she believe her own words?
“Excuse me,” the butler interrupted. “Mrs. Madison wants to know if Mr. O’Brian and his friend will be staying for lunch.”
“You are staying, aren’t you?” Allison begged.
“Sure, we’d love to. But we’ll have to leave soon after in order to catch our train.”
Lunch was a solemn affair. Grandmother Madison said about eight words altogether, though Marsha and Stanley tried amazingly hard to be polite. Allison couldn’t bring herself to engage in chitchat while she witnessed her world evaporating before her eyes.
She stood out on the driveway with James and Grace, searching for the right words and staring at the hood of the car. The lump in her throat ached as she hugged them good-bye.
“Allison, I’ll write you as often as I can,” James promised, his eyes red. “And I’ll see if I can arrange an exhibit down in California—then I’ll have a double excuse to visit. You write or call if you need anything, you hear?” He kissed her on the cheek, and she tried to memorize the clean smell of his aftershave.
She gulped and nodded, then waved as the car moved slowly down the driveway. The bright yellow sedan became a blurry blob. The visitation schedule had been agreed upon, and Marsha had really been quite fair. Allison knew she should be thankful. She would have both Christmas and Easter vacations, plus one whole month in the summer to spend in Oregon. But it just wasn’t enough. Allison dashed up to her room to sob in private.
Allison scolded herself for being so childish. Why cry now? It wasn’t as if her world had changed all that much since last spring. If anything, she had a lot to be thankful for. First, she’d enjoyed a brief time of getting acquainted with Grandpa in Oregon. Then she’d discovered her father was still alive. She’d made some new friends, and now for the first time she was developing a relationship with her own mother. Besides, living in Beverly Hills wouldn’t be all bad. There was Gertie and Adam; they’d be happy to see her again. And Christmas wasn’t too far off.
She walked downstairs with determination to look at the bright side—just the way she’d seen Heather and Grace do. Marsha met her on the landing.
“So the lovebirds got off okay?” Marsha asked.
Allison rolled her eyes. “Yeah, about an hour ago.”
“You need to get ready, too, Allison. You’ll be leaving tomorrow morning at eight,” Marsha announced nonchalantly. Her eyes didn’t meet Allison’s; instead, she studied a sharp red fingernail with total absorption.
“Leaving to where? Back to Los Angeles already?”
“No. Back to Oakmont Academy. It’s all been arranged—”
“What? What do you mean? I thought I was going to live with you in Beverly Hills!” Allison could hear her own voice echoing down the hall, shrill and desperate.
“For heaven’s sake, Allison, don’t have a fit! You know I’ll be busy working on my new film. I won’t have time to take care of you—”
“Then why did you fight so hard to keep me?”
“Oh, Allison, don’t get all worked up. It’s no big deal—you’ll be back with your friends at the academy. What’s so bad about that?”
“Oh, nothing!” Allison answered sarcastically. “Nothing at all. I just love staying in drafty dorms all my life with a bunch of snotty girls! Especially when I could’ve lived with my own dad, been with my own friends, and gone to a real high school. No, Marsha, I’m just thrilled about this! Can’t you tell?” Allison felt close to hysterics. So much for positive thinking.
“Get used to it, Allison! The judge gave me custody—not your father. Don’t forget it!”
Allison stomped up the stairs and flopped across her bed. How could Marsha be so unfeeling, so unfair? What would that judge think now? Did he have any idea what his decision had cost her? And what in the world had given Marsha this sudden change of attitude? Maybe this was Grandmother Madison’s doing. After all, Marsha and Allison had almost become friends these past few weeks. Allison had to make Marsha understand how important it was for her to at least be in California with her.
Allison quietly slipped back downstairs in search of Marsha. She heard voices floating up the main hall, and just as she approached the drawing room entry she hesitated. Allison ducked into a corner behind a Greek statue of a woman with a water pitcher. The carved figure teetered slightly, and Allison steadied it with her shaking hand, then listened through the open door of the drawing room.
“Mother, I had no idea it would be so easy, but once again you were right! Really, I should get an Academy Award for my fantastic performance. I had them all convinced! Even James believed me in the end.” Marsha laughed loudly, and Allison’s fingers grew cold upon the statue’s head.
“Well, Marsha, your acting abilities have finally paid off for me. I don’t know what we’d have done if James had won that custody suit. One thing’s for certain, Allison’s inheritance would have come out into the open, and who knows what that good-for-nothing James might have done about it.”
“I still don’t know why Daddy went and did that, Mother,” Marsha complained. “Was it just to spite me—did he despise me that much? That he would go and make Allison the sole heiress of the entire Madison estate! Was it just to teach me a lesson?”
Allison gasped in disbelief. Could it be true? Was this whole place really hers? She stared down the hall of the grand mansion in momentary astonishment, trying to take in the meaning of those words. She was an heiress. But with a force of its own, the awful realization struck her. Marsha’s affection toward her had been nothing more than an act—a complete farce! Her mother’s dramatic talents had been put to work to secure the family fortune a little longer! Allison seethed inwardly, and angry tears burned in her eyes as she continued to eavesdrop without guilt.
“Your father was an odd man,” Grandmother Madison said with a loud sigh. “He was extremely old-fashioned about most things but in some ways very unconventional. It was as if his wealth meant absolutely nothing to him. Sometimes I’d catch him giving away vast sums of money to charitable organizations.” She gasped dramatically as if compassion were a disgrace. “You’d think he wanted to put us all in the poorhouse! Can you imagine anything so completely absurd?”
“Well, Mother, I’m glad you’re happy now. But you know, the time will still come when Allison will find out. Have you discussed this with your lawyers yet?”
“Of course, and so far they’ve come up empty-handed. We’ll keep it a secret as long as possible. I’ve transferred much into your name already, Marsha, but I’m trying to be discreet. Unfortunately, my hands are tied when it comes to the estate. But at least for now we’ve kept it out of James O’Brian’s lap.” Their laughter echoed down the hall, and their footsteps approached the open door.
Allison scurried around the corner and out the side door through the garden. She ran down a rosebush-lined trail, shaking her head in wonder as if that somehow might sift her jumbled thoughts. A stiff sea breeze stripped petals from wilted blooms and swirled them across the path before her in a blur of faded pink and red. Cutting across the east lawn, she searched for the old gap in the tall thicket hedge that surrounded the estate. There it was, but now only a slight gaping hole remained. She knelt down and squeezed through, then headed toward the sea.
The breeze picked up by the shore and whipped her blouse, making it snap and crackle in the wind. She walked along the top of the familiar rocky cliffs, almost without seeing. The surf pounded and crashed below her, but it couldn’t drown the sound of the pain screaming inside her brain. The ocean’s thrashing seemed mild compared to her battered emotions.
How could Marsha be so heartless and cruel? To fight for Allison not because she wanted her but to protect and secure Grandmother Madison’s fortune—as if Allison cared about it in the first
place. Allison’s mind spun ornate plans of revenge that only tumbled into muddled confusion and ended in hopelessness.
“I hate you, Marsha Madison!” she screamed at the sea, but her words were swallowed by the wind. “I hate you, and I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done to me! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” She collapsed on the edge of the bluff and broke into uncontrollable sobs. Sprays of mist shot into the air above her and floated down upon her back like ice-cold fingers. She peered down over the edge of the cliff, watching the breakers smash wickedly onto the rocks below. They reached up as if to tease and taunt her, saying, You lose, Allison! You lose!
Then she heard another voice. It was quiet as a feather on the breeze but louder than the bashing waves upon the rocks. “Forgive her” was all it said.
Allison looked around in surprise. The voice came again, clearer this time. “Forgive her.”
Allison pressed her hands over her ears, trying to smother the voice that was speaking within her own soul. She remembered Constance’s talk about forgiving her alcoholic father. She remembered the letter Constance had sent. But Allison didn’t want to forgive Marsha. Marsha didn’t deserve to be forgiven.
Allison stood and stared down the side of the cliff, and the vision before her blurred and swirled. The unsteady surface beneath her feet was wet and slick. Her father’s anguished face flashed through her mind with startling clarity, his eyes pleading with her, begging her to step back. Cautiously, she inched from the ledge and away from danger. She backed up until she bumped into a large boulder jutting out from the bluff. She leaned into its solidness and shuddered.
Wedged into the cleft of the wet rock, she wrapped her arms around her middle and sobbed. They were no longer angry tears but the tears of a disillusioned and broken heart.
She remembered crying out to God not so very long ago. It was on a rocky island on the other side of the country. But she’d asked Him for help and He’d delivered. Still, she’d never really given her life to God, not like she’d meant to. Now she had nothing left to cling to. She felt hopelessly alone. Constance had explained how Allison must surrender all. Finally she understood.
“Dear God,” she whispered. “You can have my life—all of it. There’s nothing I can do with it, anyway. Please, God, just take it. I give it to you.” She looked out across the ocean at the thick gray clouds piled across the horizon. How she longed for them to open and expose a beam of sunlight or a rainbow of promise. Instead, she felt the promise being etched on her heart with startling precision. She sighed and whispered a humble thanks.
She could finally accept that Marsha didn’t love her and never really had. Perhaps in Marsha’s own broken way she cared for Allison a little, but she would never be the kind of mother she needed. For once, Allison felt truly sorry for Marsha. What kind of life would it be to love no one . . . and perhaps to be loved by no one. Even Marsha’s closest friends didn’t seem to genuinely care for her. They respected her position in life, or maybe it was just her money. And at times when Stanley became angry over finances, Allison worried that he’d only married Marsha for her money and fame. Poor Marsha.
Suddenly, Allison realized she’d forgiven Marsha—just like that! Of course, it wasn’t her own doing. No, like with Constance, this was a miracle. She felt free. She breathed deeply the sea air, then shivered. She was cold and wet, and she knew she should get back.
She slipped up to her room unnoticed and quickly changed into dry clothes, then packed her bags, like Marsha had told her. She didn’t want to return to Oakmont, but then she knew she had no alternatives. Allison was about to pack her journal on top of her suitcase, but instead she opened it and began a poem. Her pen sprinted across the lined page as if self-propelled.
Heritage of Love
Dear Marsha, or Mother, whoever you are,
I shall no longer wish upon a star
For your love is elusive and vain,
And it has caused me too much pain.
Instead, I shall extend to you
My unfettered love, real and true.
It’s all I have and I freely give.
I only ask that you’ll let me live
Without deception or cruel lies—
It’s there, I see it in your eyes.
All I ask is please be fair,
If it’s possible that you care,
And listen to your child’s plea
And open your eyes so you can see,
Your riches and wealth mean nothing to me!
I’d give my inheritance just to be free
To live and to love, free from strife
In a home with my dad and a real life.
And I’d still love you, though from afar
But I wouldn’t be a butterfly trapped in a jar.
I’d gladly give up this entire estate
If only to secure a happier fate.
She ripped the poem out of her journal and stared at it. Without waiting a moment longer, she wrote on the bottom of the page, “Marsha, I would give back to you the entire Madison estate if I could only be free. If you would just let me go to my dad, I would never ask for a single penny.”
She slipped the poem in an envelope, then tiptoed down the hallway. Marsha’s door was closed, but Allison could hear movement inside. She took a deep breath, then slid it under the door. With clenched teeth, she stepped back and stared at the closed door before her. Was there any hope that Marsha would change her mind and allow her to return to Oregon? Allison closed her eyes and breathed a silent prayer. It was in God’s hands now.
Melody Carlson is the award-winning author of more than 200 books, including Just Another Girl and Anything but Normal. She recently was nominated for a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award in the inspirational market for her many books, including the Diary of a Teenage Girl series and Finding Alice. Visit her website at www.melodycarlson.com.
Books by Melody Carlson
Words from the Rock Series
True
Life
Always
Just Another Girl
Anything but Normal
Never Been Kissed
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Allison O'Brian on Her Own Page 29
