6 Rainier Drive

by Debbie Macomber

  “You need to tell Seth you’re going back to work,” her mother advised.

  “I will.” But she wasn’t in any hurry. They were barely speaking. For Leif’s sake, they each made an effort to be civil in his presence. As far as Justine was concerned, though, they might as well be roommates. Or strangers.

  “Is that why you had lunch with Warren Saget?” her mother asked, staring directly at her.

  Shocked, Justine widened her eyes. Warren had taken her to lunch last week, but he’d been careful to ensure they wouldn’t be seen. They’d met at a small, out-of-the-way restaurant in Gig Harbor. It’d happened only once and Justine had felt guilty about it ever since. How her mother knew was beyond her, but it explained the invitation for tea in this private setting.

  “You heard about that, did you?” she asked, hoping to make light of the incident.

  “I did, and I probably wasn’t the only one. I didn’t know Warren was back in your life.”

  He wasn’t, but saying so would only raise other questions she didn’t want to answer. “Warren’s a friend of mine,” she said tersely.

  “Is he, Justine?” her mother asked point-blank.

  It seemed that an explanation would be necessary, after all. “Soon after the fire, Seth and I had an argument. I had to get away so I went down to the waterfront. While I was there, Warren joined me. All of a sudden I had a panic attack. I’ve never had one before and Warren was extremely kind to me.”

  “Oh, Justine! How frightening.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t know what was happening, but he calmed me down and talked me through it. Then last week he asked me to lunch and it seemed to mean so much to him, I couldn’t say no.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have gone. I regret it now.”

  “Have you thought what Seth would say if he knew?”

  Justine had foolishly believed no one would ever find out. Including her husband. So much for that theory. If her mother had heard about the lunch, then there wasn’t any reason to believe Seth wouldn’t eventually hear about it, too.

  “Who told you?” she asked.

  “An attorney friend. It wasn’t like Sharon came running to tell me, either. She hardly knows you and mentioned that she saw you in Gig Harbor with your father. I knew it couldn’t have been Stan and surmised you must’ve been with Warren.”

  “It won’t happen again, Mom.”

  “It’s none of my business. This is your life, but I’d hate to see you do something stupid that’ll hurt you and your marriage.”

  Her mother was right. She had to talk to her husband, let him know how damaging his actions had been. Confrontation had never been easy for her but they needed to reconnect with each other before it was too late.

  Justine went home soon afterward. She wasn’t supposed to pick up Leif until dinnertime, and she’d hoped to find Seth.

  To her disappointment he wasn’t home. Maybe she’d drive over to her grandmother’s place. Just as she got ready to turn around and leave, the front door opened and Seth stepped inside. Penny, their small dog, trotted over to greet him.

  She and Seth stood several feet apart and stared as though they’d never seen each other before. For the longest time all they did was look. Neither moved. Neither spoke.

  A tightness gripped Justine’s throat, and all at once tears filled her eyes and clogged her throat. She couldn’t continue living the way they were, couldn’t go on pretending everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t.

  With all her heart she loved Seth, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. If she didn’t do something, she would lose him. They’d lose each other.

  Out of need and fear, she took one step toward her husband. He did the same. Before she knew it, Justine was in his arms and Seth was kissing and hugging her as though they’d been reunited after a lengthy absence. He tangled his fingers in her hair as he brought his mouth to hers. Tears spilled down her face and she was sobbing and kissing him back, all the while pulling his shirt free of his waistband. She needed her husband, wanted him.

  Justine wasn’t sure how they made it to the bedroom. Ravenous as they were for each other, they didn’t even completely undress before they fell on the bed, gasping and panting.

  By the time they’d made love, Seth was half on the bed, his feet on the floor, while Justine was pinned to the edge of the mattress. They broke into wide grins.

  “Oh, Seth,” she whispered, “I’ve missed you so much.”

  He straightened and they climbed onto the bed, lying on their sides, facing each other. He kissed her chin and traced her cheekbones with one hand.

  “I’ve been the biggest fool who ever lived,” Seth told her. “We lost the restaurant. That’s tragic, but I still have what’s most important in my life. You and Leif.”

  Tears clouded her eyes and she attempted a smile.

  Seth continued to stroke her face. “I went down to see Larry Boone this afternoon.”

  Justine bit her lip.

  “I took the job, Justine. I’m going to be selling boats.”

  A small cry of happiness escaped as she wrapped her arms around Seth’s neck and hugged him with all her might.

  “I’m so glad,” she said, sobbing openly. “Everything’s going to be fine.” That was when she told him about her lunch with Warren. From the way his mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed, she knew Seth wasn’t pleased. But once the truth was out, Justine felt as if a backpack loaded with rocks had been removed from her shoulders.

  “I won’t see him again,” she said. She gave him a long, involved kiss.

  “You promise?” Seth asked.

  “I promise.”

  Then she told him about the job at the bank, which she’d be starting the following Monday.

  His eyes revealed his astonishment. “When did you arrange this?” he asked, still frowning.

  “A week ago.”

  “You want to work?”

  She did—for a dozen different reasons. She needed the escape into another world. She needed something to do; like him she’d been at loose ends. When they’d had the restaurant, she’d worked nearly every day and now there was a void. The money would come in handy, too. “Just a few hours a day. Do you mind?” If he did, she’d tell the bank she couldn’t do it.

  “No—it’s totally up to you.”

  Although Justine hated to bring up the subject of the restaurant, she felt it was necessary. “What about The Lighthouse?”

  A pained look came over Seth, as if even talking about it distressed him. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.” His gaze held hers as he used his index finger to outline the shape of her lips. His touch was gentle and his eyes filled with tenderness. “Whatever we decide, it doesn’t need to be this very minute. We’ll take things one day at a time.”

  “Okay.” Justine sighed and rubbed her bare foot along the outside of his leg. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you.”

  “Never,” he whispered. “I would never have let that happen.”

  And yet Justine feared it almost had.

  Fifteen

  Allison Cox checked the address and space number a second time, uncertain whether she had the right trailer house. Anson had never told her which one he and his mother lived in. When she’d asked the manager, the woman had pointed to the back of the park, saying, “Cherry’s at the end. Space fifteen. When you see her, tell her the rent payment’s past due, would ya?”

  “Ah…”

  The woman had frowned. “Forget it, kid. I’ll deal with her myself.”

  With more than a little trepidation, Allison walked up the rickety steps of number fifteen. The thought of Anson living in this poor excuse for a home nearly broke her heart. After a brief hesitation, she knocked at the thin door.

  “Who is it?” the woman inside shouted.

  “Allison Cox.” She spoke as loudly as she could without yelling.

  The door slowly opened. Dressed in a housecoat, Anson’s mother stood on the other side of the screen door,
holding a cigarette. Her hair was lank and dirty, and it looked as if she hadn’t been out for a while.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded. One arm was tucked around her waist; ash fell to the floor when she flicked her cigarette with the other hand.

  “I’m a friend of Anson’s,” Allison explained. “I…” She lowered her voice in case someone was listening. “He phoned me and I thought you might want to hear how he’s doing.”

  Anson’s mother laughed as though the statement amused her. “Sure,” she said, unlocking the screen. “Come on in and tell me what you know about the little bastard.”

  Allison flinched at the word and resisted the urge to retaliate. If Anson was a bastard, then that woman was responsible for it. Biting her tongue, Allison stepped inside. The trailer was in shocking disarray. The kitchen sink was piled with dirty dishes and the countertops covered with junk. The living room obviously hadn’t been picked up in months.

  There was a stale, musty smell—smoke, spilled booze, judging by the rye bottle lying on its side, and just…dirt. The smell of squalor. “Excuse the place,” Cherry said with a dismissive gesture. “It’s the maid’s day off.”

  Allison smiled weakly at the woman’s attempted joke.

  Cherry shoved a stack of trashy grocery store magazines from one of the chairs, indicating Allison should sit there. “Where’s he at?” she demanded before even Allison had a chance to sit down.

  “He, uh, didn’t say.”

  “Did you tell him the sheriff’s looking for him?”

  “Well, no… He already seemed to know that.”

  “He’s goin’ to prison this time.”

  “Mrs. Butler, Anson didn’t set that fire.”

  The woman snickered. “First off, I ain’t never been a Mrs. anybody, and second you and I both know Anson did it. You don’t need to pretend for my sake, sweetie. My son likes fires. He nearly burned the house down when he was six years old playin’ with matches. When he was ten, he and a group of his little friends started a brush fire that got me in a whole lot of trouble. Next thing I knew, Child Protective Services are all over my ass like I was the one who lit that match.” She paused and inhaled deeply on the cigarette, then smashed it out in a glass ashtray overflowing with ashes and crumpled butts. “Last year he gets himself in real trouble by burning down that toolshed in the park. Far as I’m concerned, he’s just building bigger fires. It started when he was a kid and it hasn’t stopped.” When she finished, she walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. “Want a beer?”

  Allison slowly exhaled. “No, thanks.”

  Anson’s mother grabbed a bottle, twisted off the cap and took a swig. “Problem is,” she said without looking at Allison, “I never was mother material.”

  Allison didn’t say anything, although she definitely agreed.

  “You say he called you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he want?”

  Allison hated the implication. “He didn’t want anything. He said he needed to hear the sound of my voice. He told me he didn’t start the fire.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I do.”

  “You tell the sheriff he phoned you?”

  “No.” Technically she hadn’t. It was her mother who’d contacted Sheriff Davis.

  “Good,” she said and nodded approvingly. “If he calls you again, don’t, okay?”

  Allison couldn’t promise one way or the other, so she didn’t say anything.

  “He wrote me,” Cherry said, shaking another cigarette out of the pack.

  Allison sat up. “You have an address?” she asked excitedly.

  “I wish. Little bastard owes me money.”

  “Can I see the letter?” Allison pleaded.

  His mother shrugged. “It’s around here somewhere.” She walked over to the toaster and sorted through a tall stack of flyers and bills until she found what she was looking for. She held the envelope out to Allison.

  Allison stood, but before she could take it, Cherry yanked it out of her reach. “You ain’t gonna mention this to the cops, are you?”

  “No,” Allison promised, her heart in her throat.

  Cherry gave her the letter.

  Sitting down, Allison removed the single sheet from the envelope and read.

  Dear Mom,

  I asked a friend to mail this for me. Don’t try to trace me because I’m not anywhere close to where this letter is postmarked.

  Allison stopped reading and examined the envelope, which had a Louisiana postmark. She hated that he was so far away and hoped what he said was true.

  I know you’re probably mad because I took the money out of the freezer. There was almost five hundred dollars there. I counted it and as soon as I can, I’ll pay you back every penny. I know you were saving that money to fix the transmission on the car. I wouldn’t have taken it if I’d had any other choice.

  If you’re done being mad, then there’s something else I want to tell you. I didn’t start that fire.

  This was underlined several times.

  I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff in my life but I didn’t do this. Believe me or not…that’s up to you.

  I don’t know if I’ll be able to write you again so consider this an IOU for the money—$497.36.

  Take care of yourself, and if you’re smart you’ll get rid of that guy you think looks like Tobey Maguire. He’s a piss-poor imitation.

  Anson

  Allison replaced the letter in the envelope. “Anson borrowed almost five hundred dollars from you?” she asked softly. That explained why he didn’t need any money. Yet it’d been weeks since she’d seen him. That money couldn’t have lasted long.

  “He didn’t borrow anything. He stole it,” Cherry said, puffing on a new cigarette. “I’m never gonna see that cash again. It’s gone and so is Donald.” She took a crumpled tissue from her housecoat pocket and blew her nose. “And he did too look like Tobey Maguire.”

  She seemed more upset about Donald than her own son, Allison mused.

  “Anson was nothing but trouble to me from the day he was born,” Cherry said, suddenly angry. “It would’ve been a whole lot better if he’d been a girl. I knew the minute that nurse told me I’d had a boy this wasn’t gonna work. But as soon as I saw him, I knew I was gonna keep him.” She shrugged her shoulders and took another puff. “The kid would have done a hell of a lot better if I’d given him to that lady from the state. She said she had a home ready and waitin’. But I wouldn’t listen to her. Oh, no. I figured this kid came from me and that he’d love me.”

  “Anson does love you.”

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered. “That’s why he did what every man I ever loved did. He left and took something of mine with him. In his case, it was that five hundred bucks. He might as well have taken my car for all the good it’s doing me with a busted transmission.” She ground out the half-smoked cigarette. “Not that five hundred bucks would’ve paid for a new one.”

  “Despite what he did, Anson’s a wonderful person,” Allison felt obliged to tell her. “And he’s smart, too. He’s really good in languages and science. He could’ve gotten top grades.”

  His mother blinked as if this came as a surprise, and then shook her head. “The problem is, he’s a man. I never could hold on to one. His own daddy dumped me soon as I got pregnant and then disappeared. I found out later he was married, anyway.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well he wasn’t my first mistake or my last.” She gulped down another swallow of beer. “You go ahead and believe in Anson if you want,” she said, giving Allison a shaky smile. “He needs someone who will. I don’t believe in myself anymore, so I don’t have it in me to believe in him.”

  “I love Anson,” Allison admitted.

  Cherry looked away for a moment, and Allison thought she saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. When Cherry looked back, she pointed the bottle at her.

  “Time for you to go.”

&nb
sp; Allison nodded. “All right.” On impulse, she opened her purse and took out a small pad. Tearing off a piece of paper, she wrote down her phone number. “If you hear from Anson again, would you call me?”

  Cherry didn’t answer.

  “I’ll let you know if he phones me.”

  When Cherry turned her back, Allison laid the sheet on the table and quietly left the trailer.

  Sixteen

  When Charlotte left the Garden Club meeting, she stopped by her friend Helen’s on Poppy Lane. Ben was playing bridge with some other men, and then later Charlotte would meet him for soup at the Pot Belly Deli, one of her favorite lunch spots. Their homemade soups were not to be missed. However, she’d promised Helen Shelton a quick visit before lunch. Her friend was working on a Fair Isle sweater for her only granddaughter and wanted Charlotte to take a look. At one time or another, Charlotte had tackled just about every type of project in the knitting world, and Fair Isle was no exception. Helen found this sweater a challenge; Charlotte admired the way she’d refused to give up, although she’d had to restart more than once before she figured out the correct tension.

  Charlotte and Helen were both widows. They’d begun as casual acquaintances, but their friendship had grown through their involvement in the Senior Center. Now Charlotte considered Helen one of her dearest friends. She knew Helen had been in France during World War II, but only recently had she learned that Helen had been part of the French Resistance. This information came to her by accident, when Charlotte happened to see a faded poster while visiting her friend. She’d asked about it and then, reluctantly, as though every word had to be forced out, Helen explained that as a young college student, she’d been trapped in France after the German invasion.

  Determined to support the Allies, she’d joined the French Resistance, helping downed American and English pilots find their way back to England. Although Charlotte had tried to ask further questions, Helen sidestepped them. Instinctively Charlotte had realized that her friend didn’t want this information shared. The only person she’d ever told was Ben. The friendship between Helen and Charlotte had deepened from that day forward.