“What do you want to talk about?” Justine asked. If her mother had purposely arranged this time to make sure they weren’t interrupted, then there had to be a reason.
Olivia glanced up from pouring the tea into china cups. “I guess I wasn’t very subtle, was I?”
“It’s all right, Mom. I’m your daughter—you don’t need to be subtle with me.”
“Why don’t you tell me how you’re doing first?” Olivia set the teapot in the center of the table, then took her seat.
Justine reached for her cup and added a teaspoon of sugar, making lazy circles with her spoon. “I’ve decided to go back to work part-time for First National Bank.” She said this casually, as if it were a small thing. It wasn’t. “I’ll be out of the house for part of every day.” She was silent for a moment, wondering whether to talk about the underlying reason. “Getting away from Seth helps me deal with all the stress,” she admitted. She had to either spend time away from her husband for a few hours every day, while Leif was in preschool, or slowly go insane. She was relieved that Seth had talked to Larry Boone about taking the job at the boatyard but as yet nothing had come of it. She didn’t know if the hesitation was due to Seth or the other man. Seth was so volatile that Justine hadn’t asked for fear of causing problems.
These last few weeks, living with Seth had felt like being trapped. His thoughts and all his efforts seemed to be focussed on finding the arsonist. Despite their brief attempt at resolving the tension between them, Seth was as driven as ever. The fire had consumed far more than the building that had housed their restaurant; it had consumed her husband, too. This angry, unreasonable person wasn’t the man she’d married and Justine felt she no longer knew him.
“How does Seth feel about your taking this job?” her mother asked.
The sugar had dissolved but Justine continued her gentle stirring. “I…haven’t told him yet, but I don’t think he’ll care one way or the other.” She doubted he’d even realize she was gone.
“Oh, Justine.” Her mother read the pain in her response. She leaned across the table and laid one hand over hers.
“The funny part is, I forgot to pick up my birth control prescription at the drugstore the other day and then I thought, why bother? Seth hasn’t even come near me since the fire.”
“He’s upset.”
Seth was more than upset, and making love couldn’t compete with his need to be angry. Every bit of tenderness in him seemed to be gone. All that remained was his sense of unfairness and rage.
“To say he’s upset doesn’t even begin to cover it, Mom. Seth is impatient and edgy and determined to find out who started the fire. It’s become an obsession. He wants me to be angry, too, and he can’t understand why I’m not.”
Olivia sipped her tea and sat back. “You’re angry about this,” she murmured. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course I am. But I want to let it go. I’m trying to. I’m choosing to look at this the way I would any other traumatic event. We need to move on.”
“And Seth’s not ready to do that?”
“No. And my lack of righteous anger complicates the issue,” Justine went on, a bit wryly. She’d given up reasoning with Seth. Any sort of acceptance on her part, or desire to advance to something new, only angered him further.
“He spoke to Jack recently,” her mother said thoughtfully.
This was news to Justine, but then she knew little of what Seth did these days.
“He approached Jack about putting a picture of that pewter cross in the paper. Apparently that was Roy’s idea. He and Seth think someone might recognize it and give the sheriff a lead. At this point, the investigation’s stalled.”
“Is Jack going to do it?”
Her mother selected a cookie from the plate. “I believe he said he’d talk to the sheriff first and see if that would help or hinder the investigation.”
Since Seth rather than the sheriff had spoken to Jack, Justine assumed that Troy Davis was reluctant to release this information. Most likely, Seth had gone behind the sheriff’s back in an attempt to keep the investigation alive.
“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 her
s. 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 fl
yers 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.”