Unbreak My Heart (13 page)

It was so much more than columns of numbers on a page. How had she ever thought she could be happy doing something like that with her life?

Life was a gift, she'd decided today. Megan lost hers, but Allie hadn't. As she saw it, that meant she had an obligation to make something of her life.

Her first stop was town hall. The zoning office clerk confirmed that the area surrounding her house was indeed zoned for single-family housing. Anything else was permitted only by special exceptions granted by the zoning board, with even more stringent criteria for a shelter.

She left with a stack of papers explaining all the regulations—practically a whole book—and refused to be deterred. The rules didn't say absolutely no shelters for teenage runaways at 307 Willow Lane. It just said she needed special permission, and she'd get it.

What she'd told Stephen was true. Her own mother might as well have denied Megan ever existed, and after years of silence, Allie wanted to talk about her. She wanted everyone to know that she had a sister named Megan, a girl who thought she had no option but to run away from home, a decision that ultimately cost her her life. Allie didn't want anyone to ever forget that.

Part of the process would be telling her sister's story, telling the story of her own family. Allie knew a bit about raising money. People were most generous when the appeal was personal. She would use Megan's picture, would tell Megan's story. Which meant she had to have the whole story. It was all tied together now, a part of her end goal. Deal with the past, to move on to the future. Use Megan's story to help make the shelter work.

* * *

She was leaving town that morning when she drove right by the drugstore and remembered the waitress, Martha, who seemed to know something about Allie's sister. Allie was right there. Martha seemed like an obvious place to start.

Allie walked into the drugstore and sat down. Martha moved cautiously closer, another pot of coffee in her hand. She didn't spill or break anything this time, merely asked, "What can I get for you?"

"Answers," Allie said. "You knew my sister?"

Martha went still. In the entire time she'd been there the day before, Allie hadn't seen the woman hold still for an instant, except when she first looked at Allie's face.

"I knew all of you. Your mother and your sister and you used to come here." Martha's gaze narrowed on Allie. "You don't remember much, do you?"

"Bits and pieces. Seeing things is helping bring back more memories."

"I'm real sorry," Martha said. "About the other day. About everything."

Everything?
She made it sound like a world of trouble had befallen Allie's family here.

"Did you know my father?" she tried. "What was he like?"

"Before you and your mother left? Or after?"

"After."

"He was quiet, kept to himself. He came in during off hours. He'd sit in the corner, order right away, hide behind his newspaper until his food came, then he'd eat and leave. I hardly ever saw him say a word to anybody."

Allie imagined him here hiding. She felt a little ache in her heart for this man she hardly knew, a man she'd both loved and resented her whole life, one she'd never understood.

"Why did he hide? Didn't people around here like him?"

"Oh, Lord, child." Martha looked concerned. "You don't know?"

Allie took a breath and thought,
How bad could it possibly be?
But her heart was racing and Martha was fiddling nervously.

"I never believed the gossip," Martha said. "Some people did, but I didn't. And nothin' ever came of it, so you'd think the whole story would have died down after a while. But you know how people like to talk, and the truth gets lost along the way sometimes. Still, when you and your mother disappeared so unexpectedly... No one knew where you were, and your father... he looked so..."

"What?" Allie said. "He looked so what?"

"Guilty," Martha said.

"Guilty of what?"

"Like I said, nobody knew for sure where you and your mother were. Or what might have happened to you...."

Allie's mouth fell open. "People thought my father did something to me and my mother?"

Martha nodded.

"But he wouldn't hurt us," she said. "He didn't. We just left. My mother took me away. That's all. She took me; he knew that. Didn't he tell anyone? Didn't he explain?"

"I don't know, and even if he did... I'm not sure how many people believed him."

"Oh, my God." Allie thought for the first time about what his life might have been like here. They'd left him in the house where they'd once been so happy, left him all alone with nothing but his own memories and the town's suspicions. "How could anyone think he'd hurt us? He was a wonderful man."

"I really wouldn't know about that," Martha said in a way that had Allie thinking just the opposite, that Martha did indeed know more.

"Why would anyone believe he could do something like that?"

"It was the way he looked, child." Martha's face fell. It took on a look of concern, of compassion, or maybe reluctance to bring about any more hurt. "He looked guilty, even said as much to some people. They'd tell him how sorry they were about you and your sister being gone, and he'd say it was his own fault, that he deserved to lose you."

"Why?" Allie cried. "Why would he say that?"

"I couldn't say, child. I just couldn't."

* * *

Allie went straight from the drugstore to her father's attorney, who agreed to see her right away.

"After my mother and I left..." she began, having trouble even repeating what she'd heard. "Did people blame my father? Did they think he hurt us somehow?"

"I'm afraid so," Mr. Webster said kindly.

"Why?"

"Nothing but circumstances, I'd say," he explained. "It was all so odd, Allie. One minute you and your mother were here, and the next you were gone. Your father didn't tell anyone at first, but he looked awful. Megan had just died, so that wasn't unusual. But people would ask about where you and your mother were, and he'd make up some excuse. That you weren't feeling well. That you'd gone to visit relatives. I think he was hoping you'd come back before he had to tell anyone the truth. But the lying didn't help him later, when it all came out. You have to understand, it was like you'd disappeared off the face of the earth. Your mother didn't tell anyone she was going away or why. She hardly took anything with her. It looked suspicious."

"So what happened?"

"Eventually, the school came looking for you, and you weren't there. By then, all sorts of rumors were flying around town. Your father said you and your mother had moved away, and when the lady from school asked where you were, he wouldn't tell anyone. I'm not sure he knew at that point. That's when the sheriff's department got involved."

Allie winced. "They arrested him?"

"No, but they questioned him, and in some people's minds, that was enough to make him look guilty. The cabdriver who took you and your mother to the airport was the only person who could verify your father's story, and it took a while to track him down. His statement was enough for the sheriff, but you know how stories get started...."

She imagined the whispers, the odd looks following her father wherever he went. "He must have suffered so much."

"He looked bad during that time."

"Someone told me he said it was his fault my mother and I left."

"He told me that. Every time I tried to tell him how sorry I was for everything that happened, he said he'd gotten what he deserved by ending up here all alone."

Allie shook her head, thinking of the bruises on her sister's arm and dismissing them just as quickly.

Her father hadn't done that. They weren't the source of his guilt.

"Every memory I have of him is a good one. Except for that night my mother and I left, and even then, he wasn't hurting us. He was just so sad."

"What do you remember of that night, Allie?"

"That we ran away," she said, thinking how odd it sounded when she said it out loud. But there was no other way to explain. They ran. Not like they were guilty of some crime and trying to escape. Like something terrible had happened, and they had to get away from it.

What terrible thing?
she wondered, no closer now than she'd ever been to knowing.

"We were on the stairs when I realized my father wasn't going with us. I remember he hugged me. He begged me to always remember that he loved me, and that was it." That had always been her most vivid memory of him—standing on the stairs looking hurt. "Did he ever say anything about my mother?"

"I never heard him say a word against her. And I checked the family court records," the lawyer said. "Here and in Connecticut. There was never any formal custody agreement between them. She simply took you, and apparently he didn't fight her on that."

"Why?" she cried. "Why wouldn't he fight for me?"

"I don't mean to pry, but there aren't a lot of reasons mothers grab their daughters and run away. Allie, did you ever see him hit your mother?"

"No," she said. That was ridiculous. He wasn't that kind of man.

"Could he have touched you? In a way he wasn't supposed to?"

"No."
Allie shook her head back and forth. "He loved me."

"People do terrible things to people they claim to love," Mr. Webster said gently. "Do you remember anytime he was in your room late at night? Anytime he touched you, and you felt uncomfortable?"

"No."

"Memories are fluid things. People can block out a lot of things that hurt them or frighten them."

"It didn't happen," she insisted. "I loved my father, and he loved me."

"What about your sister? Could he have hurt her?"

"He wasn't like that," Allie said, again seeing the bruises on her sister's arm. Just because Megan had bruises didn't mean they came from her father.

"All right." Mr. Webster backed away. "I had to ask. I want to help you, and I liked your father. But I had to ask."

Allie nodded, glad to have the questions out in the open, ready to put them behind her. The idea had flirted around the edges of her brain for so long. Not because she believed anything like that happened. But, as the lawyer said, there weren't a lot of reasons a woman took her child and ran away from her husband. These were the worst she could imagine—that a man was either abusing his wife or his children.

"It must have been tied to Megan's disappearance." Allie sighed, coming back to one single question. "Why did my sister run away?"

"I don't know, Allie. There are just so many things I don't know."

"Did you ever hear anything about her accident? Anything to indicate that it might not be an accident?"

"No. Never."

She nodded. "Well, thank you. I appreciate all your help."

"Anything else I can do?" he offered.

Allie thought of the shelter, the future, of leaving the painful past behind. It was time, long past time.

"What do you know about zoning issues?" she asked.

* * *

Martha called Tucker and said, "The girl came back."

"And?" Tucker said.

Standing at the end of the alley at the pay phone, sucking hard on the cigarette in her mouth, Martha said, "Janet
is
dead."

Tucker said nothing. Martha felt the life they'd shared slipping away, felt how unimportant she must have been to Tucker all these years if he could still be this torn up over Janet Bennett's death. She didn't make him ask for the details, she just wanted this to be out in the open and hopefully forgotten.

"It was cancer," she said. "Two months ago. She went kind of fast."

Tucker was still there. She could hear him breathing shakily. She nearly choked on the words, "I'm sorry, Tuck."

"And the daughter?" he said finally. "Allie? Does she..."

"I don't think she knows anything."

Chapter 6

Allie started shaking as she drove home, thinking again of the old rumors about her father. And she was ashamed to admit it, but her first impulse was to run to Stephen. As she got closer, she couldn't help but slow the car in front of his house. She wondered if he was home and what he would do if she just showed up there like this. Upset and uncertain and in need of a little reassurance.

She thought she knew. He'd make it all better somehow, would likely hold out his arms to her and draw her close, and she would indeed feel better just because she was with him. But the strength of the need she felt for him had her hesitating. She barely knew him, she reminded herself, and trusting people, depending on them, was dangerous. Life had taught her that. People left. They hurt you and lied to you, and they died.

Would he hurt her, too, in the end?

Allie squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, he was there, standing just outside his front door watching her and waiting. She thought about being smart; she thought about being alone. She thought of the kindness he'd shown her, the tenderness, and then she was lost. The morning and images of her father living with the suspicions of the whole community for the rest of his life.