Anything for Her(74)

“What you did to us?”

“That this is what you’ve thought all along.”

“Did you think I was starving myself for no reason?” Horrified, Allie realized she’d raised her voice enough that heads were turning. Thank heavens the nearest tables were empty. She closed her eyes for an instant, willing herself to a pretense, at least, at calm.

“I’m not unhappy, Mom. I love my business and I love to quilt. But now I feel as if you’re stealing my chance of marrying and creating my own family, too. And that’s tearing me apart.”

Her mother’s face was pinched and almost unrecognizable. She seemed to have aged another ten years in the past ten minutes. “If he loves the woman you are right now, that’s what matters. Can’t you see that?”

Allie shook her head against her mother’s pleading. “Let’s not go there again. I told you, it’s not Nolan, it’s me. Me.” She pointed her thumb at her chest. “I need to be loved for all of me. I need to be able to acknowledge all of me. But you know what? You’ve managed to turn the conversation around again so we’re back to talking about why I am suddenly defiant. I think after all these years I deserve to know whether you really listened to Dad. I need to understand why you made the choice you did.”

Mom’s face crumpled before she composed herself again with a visible effort. “How could I have lived with myself if I hadn’t done the right thing?”

“But Dad didn’t think it was the right thing, did he? Did you ever listen to him?”

Her mother’s chin shot up. “Of course I listened! Do you really think I’m that self-centered?”

Yes.

The silence hung as they stared at each other.

“Make me understand,” Allie begged. “Haven’t you ever had second thoughts? Regrets?”

“Of course I have!” Now her mother’s voice shook. “When your father left me...and then to have Jason turn his back.” Tears ran down her cheeks. Seeming unaware, she didn’t lift a hand to catch them. “I never dreamed...my family fell apart because I asked all of you to support me in doing something hard. Was that really too much? It was the first time ever that I could do something important. My whole life...” She stopped as if she’d shocked herself.

“‘Your whole life’ what?” Allie whispered.

“I was never anything.” Mom’s face was ravaged. “My brother, of course he was going to college. After all, he was the boy. Why would I need a career when I’d be getting married and raising children?

“And then it was Mike. That damn company always came first. Marr Industries.” She said it with bitterness that corroded. “All I was supposed to do was support him. He didn’t even like it when I got a job. Did you know that? He didn’t understand that I wanted something that was mine. Of course, without an education the best I could do was assistant work. All I was doing was the same thing for someone else.” She finally balled up her napkin and swabbed at her cheeks. “And then there was you.” That came out muffled.

“Me?”

“You were so cute in your first recital. Do you remember your costume? Red-and-white checked, red tutu. You were four years old, and everybody watched you as if they’d seen a miracle. I wanted to give you everything you needed, I did, but sometimes...”

Allie’s chest was so constricted, breathing had become hard. She had to say this, though. “Sometimes you resented me, too.”

“Yes! Yes!” Through tear-swollen eyes, her mother glared. “I know that makes me a terrible person—you don’t have to tell me. Maybe I should have been content to live my entire life doing nothing but supporting my husband and my children.” Her face twisted again. The tears ran again, unheeded. “And I would have been, but then I was in a position to do something meaningful. Even the FBI agents were excited. They made me feel...important.” No longer focused on Allie, she seemed to see something far away and long ago.

Shaken by her mother’s confession, Allie had no idea what to say. I understand? That’s what she’d asked for, wasn’t it? Enough honesty so that she would be able to understand? The awful thing was, she suspected she had understood already, subliminally.

That was why Mom had seemed so excited back then. Those FBI agents buzzed around her as if she was the most glorious, fragrant flower in the garden. The decision was hers to make, not her husband’s, not her children’s, not her frequently critical mother’s.