50 Harbor Street (17 page)

C
orrie had been melancholy all day, but she didn’t want to mention it to Roy. Telling him the reason for her sadness wouldn’t help. On this date in 1975, she’d sat in the office of her father’s attorney and signed the adoption papers for her baby. In those days it wasn’t necessary to get the father’s permission to release the child; if it had been, Corrie would’ve been forced to lie and list the child’s father as unknown. That would have mortified her in front of her family and her father’s friend, but she would’ve done it rather than involve Roy.

Holding a just-brewed mug of coffee, Corrie watched her husband as he sorted efficiently through the mail, setting aside bills. Roy was so used to her presence at work that he usually didn’t pay much attention to her when she came into his office. This time, he looked up and frowned.

“You coming down with the flu?” he surprised her by asking.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

He shrugged off the question. “You’re pale.”

“I am not.”

“You also seem mighty quiet all of a sudden. That’s not like you,” he said, trying again.

“Count your blessings.”

A half smile came and went in the blink of an eye. “Perhaps I should, but if you’re not feeling well, go home. It’s a slow day.”

“Maybe I will,” she said, thinking about it as she returned to the front office. Roy had been hired to do a background check for a Seattle friend, Joe Landry. Joe had recently hired a new assistant and suspected the woman had lied about her employment history. He’d asked Roy to check her out, which he’d been doing for the last couple of days. These small jobs were their bread and butter.

After about half an hour, Roy came out of his office and sat on the corner of her desk. “You’re still here. Corrie, if you’re not feeling well, go home.” When she merely shrugged, he asked, “You talk to Linnette lately?”

“Not really.” Corrie had assumed that with her daughter living in Cedar Cove, they’d spend a lot of time together. That hadn’t been the case. They both led busy lives and sometimes a week went by before they saw each other or even spoke.

Her answer seemed to astonish her husband. “She was by recently and had a couple of questions regarding a, uh, dating situation. That horse guy you were so keen on.”

“
You
gave our daughter romantic advice?” This was frightening.

Roy bristled. “I didn’t really want to, but she needed help.”

“You didn’t say anything about this.”

Roy rubbed the side of his face. “The fact of the matter is, it slipped my mind until just now. You might want to talk to her.”

Corrie agreed and reached for the phone. Checking the time, she hoped she wasn’t waking Linnette. Because of her
changing shifts at the clinic, it was difficult to remember the hours she worked.

“Why don’t you take her to lunch today? Do that mother-daughter thing?”

Corrie removed her hand from the phone. It occurred to her that her husband seemed awfully eager to get her out of the office. First he’d urged her to go home for the rest of the day. Now he was more or less telling her to take an extended lunch break. Something was going on and she wanted to know what.

Crossing her arms, she stared at him. “All right, what are you up to?”

His look of bemused innocence might have fooled some, but she’d been married to the man for nearly twenty-seven years.

“Nothing!” he declared, apparently shocked that she’d suggest otherwise.

“You’d better tell me, Roy McAfee.”

“What makes you think I’m up to anything?”

He wasn’t going to talk his way out of this. “Because I know you.”

He frowned and then shook his head. “You’re a suspicious woman.”

She wasn’t arguing with him. “That’s what being married to you has done for me.”

Roy slid off the edge of her desk and sauntered back into his office, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Corrie followed him and sat in the chair normally reserved for clients. “Do you remember what the first postcard said?”

Roy didn’t bother to pull it out. He’d apparently read it so many times that he was able to quote it verbatim. “EVERYONE HAS REGRETS. IS THERE ANYTHING YOU’VE
DONE YOU WISH YOU COULD DO OVER? THINK ABOUT IT.”

“We’ve both been doing a lot of thinking the last few weeks,” she said softly. Her heart was filled with love and, yes, regrets. She’d never even held her baby but she’d loved her. Signing those adoption papers, she’d felt she was giving away a piece of her soul. Her parents would’ve helped her, had she decided to raise the child on her own. But young though she was, Corrie had understood that it would’ve been unfair to them, unfair to her and unfair to her child. A loving family had been waiting, eager for a child, and as emotionally painful as it had been, she’d signed her name and released her baby.

“I’d like to tell you that if I’d been told about the pregnancy, I would’ve stepped forward and done the honorable thing. But I just don’t know….”

Corrie didn’t, either, which was the main reason she hadn’t informed him.

“I think it’s time we were honest with each other,” she said.

Her husband’s eyes flared. “I’ve never been dishonest with you.”

“Perhaps not openly, but it’s clear you were trying to get me out of the office this afternoon and I need to know why.”

Roy sighed deeply. “Okay,” he said with resignation. “I wanted to make a few calls and find out what I could about our…other daughter.”

“Without telling me?”

He shook his head. “I was going to let you know what I found out.”

“Eventually,” she said.

He hesitated, then admitted it. “Eventually,” he echoed.

“That’s what I thought. But why? Do you think I’m emotionally unstable? Did you assume I couldn’t deal with whatever information you unearthed?”

“No,” he denied hotly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Then what possible reason is there for keeping me in the dark?”

“We have a daughter who’s thirty years old,” he said thoughtfully. “A daughter we know nothing about.”

She stopped herself from reminding him that, until recently, they hadn’t even known their first child was female.

“All these years, I worked hard at pushing every thought of her—the baby—from my mind. I was comfortable doing it. I didn’t
want
to know—and yet I did. We’d vowed never to mention it again but now…now she’s out there and she refuses to be ignored.”

That was painfully obvious to Corrie, as well. “You wanted to find her yourself. Contact her and then bring me in on what you’d done.”

“I need to find her,” he corrected. “I’ve gone into the adoption registries and entered our names.”

“Why exclude me?” Corrie blurted out.

“I’ll explain that in a moment. Like I said, I went on the Internet.”

Confession time for her, too. “I did the same thing.”

Her husband’s eyes connected with hers. “She hasn’t registered.”

Corrie knew that. She didn’t understand it. By whatever means, their daughter had been able to track them down without any of the adoption advocacy groups. And yet…

“That’s why you’ve kept me out of it,” Corrie murmured. “Because you’re not sure of her motives.”

Roy nodded. “If she wanted us to find her, she would’ve registered, but she didn’t. That tells me all of this isn’t as innocent as it might seem. She found me, but doesn’t want to be found herself. She’s content to mail anonymous postcards, send flowers. She’s taunting me. This is all one big game to
her, and for some reason she seems to have more of a problem with me than with you.”

“I wonder why,” Corrie mused aloud, “but I think you may be right.” Her husband had always been cautious, and perhaps more importantly, suspicious. He considered every angle of a situation, methodically catalogued each detail. The way he worked reminded her of people who did jigsaw puzzles, carefully studying every piece.

“The adoption laws in California are different from those in Washington,” Roy added. “I was thinking—”

“California?” Corrie broke in.

Immediately Roy had that chagrined look—he’d said more than he’d meant to. “Yes, California. That’s where the final adoption took place.”

Corrie hadn’t noticed where the baby’s home would be as she signed her name. Perhaps the attorney had told her, but if so, she had no recollection of it. “I don’t suppose you happened to notice the date, did you?”

“No, why?”

She swallowed hard and shook her head. “No reason.”

“Corrie?”

She glanced down, forcing back emotion, unwilling to say.

“I was wrong not to tell you everything I found out.”

“You mean there’s more?” she snapped. She felt angry that Roy had gone about this investigation and left her out. Yes, she was guilty of the same thing. But she had a good reason. Roy had claimed he didn’t want to know; he’d refused to discuss the subject, so she’d had to learn what she could on her own.

“No. I couldn’t find anything else. I’ve hit a brick wall with the California records. Only Alabama, Alaska, Kansas and Oregon are ‘open records states.’ The reason I was able to find out as much as I did was through an old friend who works for
the California state government.” Looking at Corrie, he narrowed his eyes. “How did you discover we had a daughter?”

She gazed down at her folded hands. “My mother’s diaries. I have them and I looked up the year and month. She knew. She never said a word to me, but she knew we’d had a daughter.”

“We’ll find her, sweetheart, and when we do we’ll explain everything.”

Corrie just hoped it was enough for this child to know she was loved and always had been, despite the fact that she’d sent her out of their lives.

A
llison Cox marched into the living room and sat down across from her father, who was in his recliner reading the paper. She waited patiently for him to lower it, which he did after a few minutes.

“Is there something you want to say?” he asked.

She nodded, and looked down at her hands, struggling to find a way to broach the subject of Anson. He wasn’t her first boyfriend, but he was special, and she needed, somehow, to convey that to her father.

“Does this have anything to do with Anson?”

“Yes.” She wondered how he’d figured that out. Or maybe she was more obvious than she thought.

Her father frowned darkly. “He hasn’t broken his word, has he?”

“No…”

Her mother stepped out from the kitchen and her parents exchanged glances. They did that a lot lately. Maybe it’d been going on a long time and Allison hadn’t noticed. She did now, because she and Anson communicated in the same way. He hadn’t talked to her since his court date, not even once,
but they spoke with their eyes each and every day in French class.

His gaze told her he loved her, and Allison wanted him to know she shared his feelings. Not that she’d ever let her parents find out. They’d say she was too young and insist Anson wasn’t right for her. They’d be wrong, but it was a waste of breath to argue. She knew she loved Anson and would for the rest of her life.

“Do you want me in here, too?” her mother asked.

Allison had never intended this to be such a big deal. “Ah, sure.”

At least her little brother was in his bedroom. Eddie was mostly a pest, but he had his uses.

Rosie sat on the arm of the recliner and placed her hand on Zach’s shoulder. “You were saying?” her mother gestured toward Allison.

“I hadn’t really started,” she explained. “Dad asked if Anson’s been talking to me.” Righteously, she added, “He hasn’t.”

“Good.”

“It hasn’t been easy, you know.” Both her parents seemed to take it for granted that she’d kept her promise. She had, but it’d been the hardest thing she’d ever done. The temptation was so strong because she loved Anson so much. He was the resolute one, not her, and she wanted her parents to appreciate him.

The next part was important. “Dad, I know you helped him get the job at The Lighthouse and I’d like to thank you.”

Her father shrugged, as if it was a small thing. “I checked with Seth Gunderson, and Anson appears to be a good employee.”

“Really?” Allison was sure this was true. She felt it in her heart, but having her father verify it made everything seem better.

“Yes.” Her dad smiled slightly. “According to Seth, Anson shows up early and works hard. He doesn’t drive, so he walks to the restaurant after school and pitches in until his shift starts. The only problem Anson had was with another kid who works there named Tony.”

Allison bit her lower lip. “What kind of problem?”

Her father shrugged. “Seth didn’t really say, but I got the impression that this Tony seems to think Anson makes the other employees look bad because he’s so eager to do a good job.”

Anson’s attitude pleased her. “If he walks from school to work, how does he get home?”

Her father shook his head. “Seth didn’t say, but I suspect one of the other crew drops him off.”

“Not Tony,” she said, musing out loud.

“Probably not,” her father agreed.

Allison hoped someone was giving Anson a ride. It had to be two miles between The Lighthouse restaurant and the trailer court where his mother lived. She knew for a fact that his mother wouldn’t come and get him. Anson had said enough for Allison to know the woman possessed virtually no maternal instincts.

“Maybe you should tell her what the attorney said,” Rosie advised, sharing another of those looks with Allison’s father.

Zach nodded. “Anson’s turned every paycheck over to the city as reimbursement for the shed that was destroyed.”

“That’s wonderful.” Allison clasped her hands. She was so pleased, it was difficult to hold still. “As soon as it’s paid for, he can see me again, right?”

Her father grinned. “That was our agreement.”

The doorbell rang, and before anyone could move, Eddie tore out of his bedroom and raced to the front door. They could hear him talking as he stood with the door open for a minute
or two. Then he closed it and came into the family room. He looked around and saw everyone watching him.

“Who was it?” Rosie asked.

“Allison’s boyfriend. He says he wants to talk to Dad.”

“Anson?” Allison was immediately on her feet. “You left him standing out there in the cold?”

“He said that’s where he wants to wait, so don’t get all bent out of shape.”

Zach set aside the newspaper and stood. He exchanged yet another glance with Rosie, arching his brows in obvious surprise. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He pointed his finger at Allison. “And no, I’m not letting him in the house. A deal is a deal.”

Allison felt the room close in on her as her father stepped outside. “Mom?” she cried, hardly knowing what she wanted. She found it torture to sit in the same classroom with Anson five days a week and not be allowed to speak. Now this. It killed her to know that the boy she loved was on the other side of the front door, talking to her father. She had no idea what their conversation could possibly be about, and that made it even worse.

“Everything will be fine,” her mother assured her as Allison sat down again.

“Dad’s not going to do anything, is he?” So far, her father had been cool. He’d been the only one willing to stand up with Anson in court, and he’d helped get him a job, too.

It seemed forever before her father came back in. The instant he did, Allison jumped up and hurried over to him. “What did Anson say?”

Her mother joined Allison and slid an arm around her shoulders.

“It was man to man,” Zach said.

“Dad!” she cried in frustration.

He smiled then, and she knew he was teasing her.

“Anson wanted to give you a Valentine card,” he explained.

Allison pressed her hand to her heart. This was so incredibly sweet and romantic she could hardly believe it.

“He felt he should talk to me first. He did promise not to have any contact with you and didn’t want to go back on his word.”

“I can have it, can’t I?” She’d die, simply die, if her father said no.

Her father hesitated. “I was impressed that he’d come and ask my permission.”

“He respects you, Dad.” She knew that just from the way Anson had said her father’s name after they’d gone to court. “You told him I could have the card, didn’t you? Oh please, it would mean so much.” She hated to plead, but this was quite possibly the most important moment of her life.

Her father pulled a thick envelope from inside his jacket and held it out.

“Oh, Daddy, thank you! Thank you so much.”

“He said I could read it.”

Allison’s gaze flew to her father’s. “He didn’t?”

“Zach,” her mother said. “Don’t tease.”

Her father grinned and handed Allison the envelope. She needed every ounce of restraint not to rip it open right then and there. Instead, she took it to her room. She sat on the end of her bed and very carefully opened the envelope. The card was expensive and romantic, and the second she caught the word
love,
she thought she might cry.

Inside the card was a letter, consisting of four sheets of paper, folded into fourths. Before she read it, she studied the inside verse and blinked back tears at the sentiment.

“Soon,” Anson had written at the bottom of the card, “we’ll be together again.” Then he’d signed his name.

Allison devoured the letter, reading it as fast as she could. When she’d finished she went back and read it all the way through a second time.

Anson told her about his job and how hard he was working to make a good impression. Being a dishwasher wasn’t as easy as it sounded, and he struggled to keep up with the demand. He liked his boss. Seth Gunderson was a big Swedish guy who didn’t put up with any nonsense. Anson claimed he didn’t mind that, because he knew where he stood.

He also told her that if he continued to work extra hours, he could have the reimbursement monies paid by the middle of the summer. As soon as that happened, they could see each other again. She noticed he didn’t refer to any of his troubles with this other guy, Tony.

Six months, Allison reflected. It would be six very long months, but she could wait.

The last part of the letter was the best. Anson wrote how difficult it was to see her every day and not be able to talk to her. In French class, he said, he found it almost impossible to keep his promise to her father. But he’d do it because of everything her father had done for him. He told her that some nights he dreamed about her and always woke with a happy feeling inside.

She dreamed of Anson, too. She hated knowing it would be another six months before they could see each other. Anson was of legal age now and she would be soon. All of this seemed so junior high and yet, at the same time, it was the only way they could be together and not alienate her parents.

She sighed heavily as she folded the letter and slipped it back inside the card. She ran her finger over the embossed image—an old-fashioned picture of cupids and flowers. It was an expensive card bought at a specialty store.

Even when he was putting aside almost every penny he
earned in order to pay restitution to the town, he’d bought her a lovely Valentine card. There’d been no need to purchase the best one available, but that was what he’d done.

Her heart was so full of love for him that she wanted to weep. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sudden movement, a flash of darkness. She rose from her bed and hurried to the window.

Anson.

He wore his long black coat and a black knit hat that covered his ears.

Anson walked across the yard and stood on the other side of the window.

She smiled and he smiled back, her eyes looking into his.

He pressed his bare hand to the cold glass. She pressed her hand to his. Through the glass they mouthed “I love you” to each other. Seeing him, reading his card and letter—it was the best Valentine’s gift she’d ever received.