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.