Anything for Her(77)

Why would he be angry? For that matter, why afraid? His wife and daughter had left town ten years ago. Too long for any crime he’d committed against them to be prosecuted now. Did they hold something over him? If they did, why had they run?

And where did Allie’s brother fit in? Nolan heard a deep sadness in her voice when she talked about Jason. If the dad had hurt her, would the brother really have turned his back on her?

Too many questions, no answers. Nolan had a bad feeling he’d just wasted his money—and taken a chance of losing Allie once and for all besides.

Have I ever really had her, he asked himself bleakly, when she hasn’t even told me her real name?

Now what?

Quit pushing, enjoy the relationship for what it was, hope that over time she’d trust him enough to tell him her story? A raw sound ripped its way out of him. Oh, yeah, there was a plan. Fall deeper in love with a woman who lied to him every time she opened her mouth?

It wasn’t in him.

“Damn you, Allie Wright.” Laura Nelson?

Right this minute, he wished he’d never met her.

* * *

ALLIE GLANCED AT the number displayed on her phone and groaned. She hadn’t talked to her mother since they’d parted Sunday after the movie. She’d ignored a couple of calls because she still had no idea what to say.

This, she thought ruefully, was a perfect example of their differing styles. Or was it clashing? Mom wanted to confront problems head-on. Allie retreated into herself.

But I do love my mother. I know that much.

With a sigh, she picked up the phone.

“Hi, Mom.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”

“I was planning to call anyway.” Sure I was.

“I’m glad.” Her mother sounded a little hesitant. “I thought it would be good for us to spend some time together.”

“Mom, I don’t think I’m ready to talk about this again. Not yet.”

“Talking is how we work out problems.”

“How do we work out something that’s over and done?” Bitterness made an abrupt appearance. “We can’t have a redo, can we? Can you honestly say you’d do anything different if you had the chance?”

The pause was long enough she thought the call might have been dropped—or Mom had hung up on her. “You’re not being fair,” she said then. “You have the advantage of hindsight.”

“But you still expect me to make any sacrifice you demand, don’t you, Mom?” And there, Allie realized, was the crux. Her greatest anger wasn’t felt for choices long past. It was for now.

“That’s a hateful thing to say.”

She needed her mother’s blessings for telling Nolan everything, and she wouldn’t be getting it. Mom still wanted to be the endangered heroine of their story, and giving Allie a happy ending would diminish that role.

“Why can’t you respect my judgment?” she asked, her voice suddenly soft, hurt. “I have never loved a man before. I’ve never asked you for permission to tell someone the truth. I have kept your secrets for fifteen years. Do you really think I’m so foolish, I’d trust the wrong man?”

“You know it’s not that!” her mother snapped. “I explained. So much could go wrong. Why take a chance when it’s not necessary?”

Allie gently depressed the button that ended the call. She then turned her phone off.

She sat in her chair beside Sean’s quilt, stretched in the quilt frame, but didn’t reach for her thimble or needle. The deep blue and white blurred before her eyes.

She would be betraying her mother if she followed her heart.

Anger had transmuted into anguish that had her bending forward, hugging herself and breathing fast and hard.

It was a while before she had a moment of clarity. At least she still had her mother.

Both of them had been hurt by Allie’s dad’s defection and then by Jason’s. Mom might only be desperate to know that at least one member of her family wouldn’t desert her. It was hard to believe in other people when the ones who were supposed to love you most abandoned you.

Who knew that better than Allie?

She never did work on Sean’s quilt.

* * *

“WHAT’S THE DEAL with Allie?” Sean asked as he grabbed sour cream and steak sauce from the refrigerator.

Nolan set the platter with baked potatoes on the table. “What do you mean?”