A Promise Kept (16 page)

Hi, Allie. Hope you’re doing well. I talked to Meredith last night. I’ve been thinking about flying down to see her. Maybe in May. Did you know she’s met some guy? She sounds interested in him. Thinks he’s special. Made me think back to when we first met in college. If she’s still seeing him by the time I go down, I’ll check him out. Make sure he’s good enough for her. Next time you’re coming to Boise, let me know. Maybe we could meet for lunch. I’d like to see you. Tony

Allison closed her e-mail and leaned back in her desk chair. Meredith had met someone special? She hadn’t mentioned any guy, special or otherwise, when they’d talked on Saturday. Why would she tell her dad and not her mom? That made no sense. Meredith shared everything with Allison. Or at least that was what Allison had believed.

And what about Tony’s suggestion that she meet him for lunch sometime? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. His visit over Christmas had turned out all right. But that had been for Meredith’s sake. Did Allison
want
to see him apart from their daughter?

With a sigh, she stood. “Gizmo, you want to go to town?”

The dog hopped and spun in a circle.

“Yeah, I thought you would. Come on.”

After ten months in their mountain home, Allison and Gizmo had their “go to town” routine down pat. They were on their way in under ten minutes, Gizmo fastened into his doggy seat belt harness. The winding highway into Kings Meadow was mostly dry now, although there were a few slick spots where
sunshine never reached the road. Just in case, Allison kept her speed well below fifty.

In town, she stopped at the drug store first to pick up her thyroid prescription. Then she went to the post office to get the mail from her box followed by the dry cleaners where she dropped off a couple of sweaters. Finally, she parked her car in the lot beside the restaurant. Susan waited for her at a table near the large window overlooking the river and the mountains to the south.

“Am I late?” Allison slid onto the chair.

“No. I’m early. Ned went over to Chet’s to help deliver a colt, so I didn’t have to fix dinner. Left me with time on my hands.” She touched the novel on the table with her right hand. It was the one the club would discuss tonight. “Gave me a chance to glance through the book and think up more questions.”

“I really liked this one. I’ll be reading more by the author.”

“Me too. Did you decide what book we’re reading for next month?”

Allison answered, “It’s a young adult novel. I figured since most everyone seemed to like
The Hunger Games
, they might not mind another YA. But it’s funny. I adored it. No dystopian societies in this one. Unless that’s how you think of the turbulent sixties.”

“Ha ha. Very funny from somebody who was still a baby at the time.”

“Hey, I was four when the sixties ended.”

“Like I said. A baby.”

Allison felt a surge of affection for this woman who’d become such a dear friend, so important in the new life she’d built for herself.

The waiter came with glasses of water and they ordered their dinners. After he left, Susan said, “You haven’t told me anything about Emma lately. Anything new from her journals?”

“Actually, yes. You know the crush she had on that young man, Alexander Monroe? The one she’s written about almost from the start of her diaries? She’s crazy about him, and he’s still attracted to my grandmother who’s about to get married.”

“Well, that’s understandable. His attraction to Elizabeth, I mean. Your grandmother was a rare beauty. I’ve always thought she looked a lot like Nicole Kidman when she was younger.” Susan took a sip of water. “What year are you up to now?”

“Nineteen twenty-six. Aunt Emma was nineteen and my grandmother was eighteen.”

“Are you still resisting the urge to look ahead?”

“Yes.”

“You have more self-control than I do, obviously.”

Allison smiled. She doubted that was true. Susan had more self-control than most anyone she knew. “Reading Aunt Emma’s diaries makes me feel as if she is here with me, still telling fascinating stories about her life. I don’t want to rush through them. I think I enjoy the anticipation of discovering what might happen next as much as the discovery itself.”

“Don’t read too slowly. There are a lot of journals to get through before that collection is ready for publication.”

“You never give up, do you?”

“Not when I know something’s a good idea. Think of all the collectors of Emma’s photographs who would love to have a record of her life. I’m telling you, it would sell like hotcakes, and you would have a great time as the editor, choosing what to put in and what to leave out. Just think. We could have it as a book club selection.”

The way she said it, Susan did make it sound fun. But Allison had to wonder, would Aunt Emma approve?

Emma

1928

John was in Seattle on business when Liza’s water broke and labor began, a full three weeks ahead of her due date. By providence, Emma and Alexander were visiting when it happened.

“Call for the doctor, Alexander,” Emma said as she helped her sister to her feet. “I’ll see to Liza until he gets here.”

“And please . . .” Liza touched her belly, grimacing. “Please let my mother know the baby is coming. I want her with me if possible.”

“I’ll make the call,” he answered as he reached out to touch the back of Liza’s hand, “and then I’ll go get your mother and bring her back myself. Don’t worry, Elizabeth. I’ll see to it.” There was a tenderness in Alexander’s voice that Emma never heard when he spoke to her.

He wishes she were his wife. He wishes the baby about to be born were his
.

The knowledge struck Emma like a blow to the stomach. Nothing had changed in all of these months. Even married to Emma and her carrying his child, Alexander’s thoughts were for another woman. His thoughts were for her sister. The tragic thing was, it didn’t alter how Emma felt about him. Not a bit. She would do anything for him. She would turn herself inside out. She would even die for him. Why couldn’t he see that?

Is that how he feels about Liza?

“Emma?” Her sister’s voice cracked. “Help me upstairs to the bedroom, please.”

Yanked from her thoughts, Emma answered, “Yes. Right away. Come on.”

They moved out of the parlor and up the stairs, pausing when Liza felt another hard pain. “It’s happening so much faster than last time,” Liza said when she could draw breath again. “I don’t believe this baby is going to wait for Dr. Thompson to get here.”

Emma found that a terrifying notion. She knew next to nothing about childbirth. “Of course he’ll get here in time.” She tightened her arm around Liza’s back. “Let’s get you into bed so you can relax.”

“Thank you, Emma. You . . . you’re the best sister in the world.”

“Hardly that.”

They continued up the stairs.

In the bedroom Emma helped Liza out of her dress, into a nightgown, and onto the bed. She tried not to show her alarm at the ever-increasing frequency and intensity of Liza’s contractions. Wasn’t labor supposed to build slowly? She prayed the doctor would hurry.

At one point Liza took hold of Emma’s hand. “I’m glad our babies will be close to the same age. They’ll be like siblings. They’ll love each other. Like you and me.”

Emma nodded.

The Hendricks’ cook—a short, plump woman with a cap of gray curls and a round, ruddy face—appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Mary told me the mistress was having her baby. I come to see for myself.” Her London origins revealed themselves in her accent.

“Mrs. Willows.” Emma hurried toward the woman. “I don’t know what to do until the doctor arrives. The contractions are very close together.”

“Well then, you’ll be comforted to know I’ve delivered several babies without help from any old sawbones.” She began rolling up her sleeves. “Bring blankets, clean towels, and a pair of scissors. Twine too. And have Mary boil water.” She stopped and gave Emma a sharp look. “And if you plan to faint, I’ll have you leave the room now and not come back. There’ll be no time for tending to you with a baby on the way.”

“I’m not going to faint.”

“Good. I thought you were made of sterner stuff, Mrs. Monroe. You remind me of myself when I was young and thin.” She barked a laugh. “Though nobody believes I was ever either of those, I’m sure.”

Emma didn’t feel strong, but she hoped the woman was right about her being made of sterner stuff.

Allison

Tony met Allison inside the Boise restaurant. It was a Monday, half an hour before the lunchtime rush, and they were able to be seated at once.

After the hostess left, Tony drew a small gift-wrapped box from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Happy birthday a day late.”

“Tony, you shouldn’t—”

“Sure I should.” He motioned with his head. “Go on. Open it.”

Feeling off-kilter, she plucked the tape loose and removed the wrapping paper. A black velvet jewelry box was inside. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

How many of her birthdays had Tony forgotten over the years? Far more than he’d remembered. And even when he remembered, how often had she received a gift? Or even a card? Christmases too. Familiar resentment coiled in her stomach. Old hurts rushed back. Almost a year divorced, and still she wasn’t free of them.

“Go on,” he repeated softly. “Open it.”

Holding her breath, she raised the hinged lid on the box. Inside lay a pair of opal earrings.

“You always liked opals.”

It surprised her he knew that.

“Meredith told me they’re one of your favorites.”

Meredith. Of course. Tony wouldn’t have remembered yesterday was her birthday if their daughter hadn’t reminded him.
He certainly wouldn’t have known Allison’s fondness for this particular gemstone without Meredith’s help.

“I missed a lot of your birthdays,” he added. “I was there, but I wasn’t. I’m sorry, Allie. Truly sorry.”

“It’s water under the bridge. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Sure it matters. It matters to me even if it doesn’t matter to you.”

That was the thing. It
did
matter to her, and she didn’t want it to.

He must have sensed her discomfort, for he changed the subject. “I got my six-month sobriety chip the other night.”

Allison’s jaw clenched. Why on earth had she agreed to meet Tony for lunch? Why had she ever bothered to reply to the e-mail he’d sent a couple of weeks ago. Being with him brought up too much garbage, too many bad memories. Their time together at Christmas, as pleasant as it was, hadn’t erased the past. It couldn’t.

“I wish I’d caught on to working the steps for my addictions as quickly as you did for codependency.”

She shrugged, not knowing what to say to that. Judging by her reactions over the last few minutes, she wasn’t sure she’d caught on to anything. Maybe she hadn’t made a shred of progress in recovering from her own hurts, hang-ups, and habits. Maybe all she’d done was pretend for months and months. When Tony was out of her sight, he was out of her mind. When he was out of her mind, she became sane—but not necessarily healthy.

Tony said, “I made a mess of things. That’s no secret.”

“Yes, you did.”

“If I had it to do over again—”

“Stop, Tony. That kind of thinking is useless. We don’t get to change the past. All we can hope is to do things differently in the future.”

A waitress came and took their order. Allison didn’t think
she would be able to eat when the food came. Her stomach felt like stone.

“Allie?”

She looked at Tony again.

“I didn’t get to say this when I was with you at Christmas. Let me say it now. Please.”

“Fine. If you need to, go ahead.”

“When I walked out that day, after you told me to get sober or leave, I left in anger. I didn’t mean to stay away. Not more than a night or two. I sure didn’t think you would stick to your guns to not
let
me return until I sobered up for good. Even then, I believed I could control my drinking anytime I wanted without any help from anyone. Without any help from God. A God who remained a stranger to me.” He raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. “I was a fool.”

A lump formed in Allison’s throat.

“I loved you, Allie. I did. Still do, though I know you don’t want to hear it. Probably can’t believe me. But I can see now how selfish I was. Even my love for you and Meredith was about me and my needs and wants and not about either of you. In many ways, as a husband, I left you emotionally, even physically, long before I walked out on you. As a dad . . .” He let his words fade into silence.

How many years had Allison wished and hoped and prayed for Tony to say something like that to her? So many. Too many.

“Recovery is something I have to do one day at a time and with God’s help.”

“I know,” she whispered. “All of life has to be lived that way.”

He looked as if he was about to say more, then shook his head.

Allison wanted to leave. She was getting a headache, felt the throb strengthening in her temples. Her nerves jangled. But their lunch arrived right then. She hoped something to eat would help her feel better.

“Mind if I say a blessing?” Tony asked.

“No. Go ahead.”

For the remainder of the meal, they talked only of Meredith—the safest of topics—and Allison made her escape as soon after as possible.