Anything for Her - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,74

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.

When the U.S. Marshal decided to move them again, this last time, Allie realized that her mother had felt important again. She wouldn’t be in danger if what she’d done hadn’t counted.

Glorying in once again being the center of attention, she hadn’t noticed how miserable her daughter was. She hadn’t begun to understand why her son had chosen to stay behind.

“Thank you for telling me,” Allie finally said, softly. A waitress approached, her concerned gaze on their untouched salads, but Allie gave her head a slight shake and the waitress stopped then retreated.

Mom had quit crying and mostly mopped her face, although she looked terrible. “In the end, it all went so wrong,” she said, almost inaudibly.

“We can’t know what would have happened if you’d said no,” Allie was surprised to hear herself say. “Maybe you and Dad would have split up anyway. It doesn’t sound like you were very happy in the marriage. And Jason might have sided with Dad no matter what.”

“And you?” There was a great deal of pain in her mother’s eyes. “You might be soaring.”

“Or I could have been injured and had to give up dance,” Allie said prosaically. “You were right. That was always a possibility.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Can I? Allie wished she could say, Of course, and mean it. The honest answer was I don’t know.

“You know I love you,” she said instead.

Her mother’s smile was crooked and more sad than pleased. “I know.” She drew in a big breath and looked down at her salad. “I suppose we should eat this.”

“Our salads look really good.” Of course, Allie had no appetite at all right now, but she nonetheless picked up her fork and took a bite.

How did she now say, Mom, the past is one thing, but I’m not sure I can forgive you if I lose Nolan because I can’t tell him the whole story?

And then it struck her: What if Mom had to admit that likely no one was looking for her anymore, not after all these years? That they weren’t looking because she wasn’t that important? If she was forced, finally, to let go of her belief in