Page 74 of Mountain Freedom
She nodded slowly, catching up to my thoughts. “That’s right.” She raised her hands to her face and let out a long sigh, shaking her head. “She was always begging him to stop gambling. Now I understand.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, pulling her into a hug. I held her in my arms, thinking over a million moments from my childhood that made sense now.
How Russell would make snide remarks about how he wishedhecould get in on Brent’s poker games. But to play at those games, you had to have money or something better to bet. He’d sneer at my mother and tell her she’d be more valuable to him if she took better care of herself.
As much as I hated to admit it, Beverly’s story added up. And I couldn’t blame Allison’s mom for leaving, no matter how much it had ripped me apart.
“Are you okay?” I asked, stroking a hand down her silky hair.
She sniffed. “Yeah. Look at me.” She pulled back and shook her head, giving me a rueful smile. “You’re supposed to be the one grieving today, not me.”
“I guess we both have some things to bury from the past.”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Have you talked to your mom about any of this yet?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not ready. I don’t even know what to say. She never told me any of this, so I imagine she’s pretty ashamed.” Tears welled up in her eyes again. “And I’m so angry at her.”
“That may not be fair,” I said, shaking my head. “We don’t know the whole story, but my gut says she was a victim, not awilling participant. At least not a fully willing one. Otherwise, why would she have left?”
“I’m not angry about that,” Allison explained. “I’m angry because, after everything she went through, she still wants me to get back together with Mike—a man who practically asked me to do the same exact thing for a job. If she knew what it was like to be with someone who…” She clamped her mouth shut as Mom walked in the back door.
“Whew,” Mom said brightly, glancing at each of us in turn but apparently choosing to pretend she hadn’t just walked in on what was obviously an emotional conversation. “I think I got things sorted out. But your father needs to talk to you.” She motioned for me to go outside.
The last thing I wanted to do was leave Allison’s side, but Mom opened the door and didn’t give me much of a choice. I glanced at Allison, who waved me on, letting me know we could talk later. I gave her a small smile before I headed out, hoping she would be okay.
After all, I was leaving her with an interrogator who was second only to Fiona—and who clearly had just orchestrated a private conversation.
Chapter Thirty-One
Allison
Jenna gave me a warm smile.“Allison, I’m so glad you made it.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” I said automatically.
“Of course,” she said. “Now, I don’t want to pry into anything that isn’t my business, but you’ve clearly been crying and I know it can’t be over Russell. Is everything okay between you and Jackson?”
“Um, yes,” I stammered. “I mean. We’re just friends.”
“Hmmm,” she said, giving me a knowing smile. “So that wasn’t a breakup I just walked in on? Sorry to be so forward.” She lifted a tray and offered me a cookie. “I suppose I can’t help myself.”
It was such a motherly thing to do that I couldn’t help but smile. “That’s okay. I don’t mind you being forward. But to answer your question, I’d had a rough morning at the clinic and was telling Jackson about it. That’s all.” I took a bite of the cookie and jerked my head back in surprise. “Wow, that’s delicious. Like really, really delicious.”
“I like to bake, and I tend to think chocolate makes everything better,” she said, shrugging.
“Same.” I adored her already.
“You know,” she said, giving me a long look before taking a cookie for herself. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a very long time.”
“Me?” I asked, surprised. “Why?”
She turned her gaze toward the big windows off the kitchen, where we could see Jackson and his dad having a quiet discussion away from the rest of the group. “When Jackson first came to us, he was closed off. Wouldn’t talk to us at all, other than ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, ma’am.’ He was respectful, quiet, and probably scared out of his mind. Not that I blame him. Foster care has to be a terrifying experience for children.”
“Better than where he had been, obviously,” I pointed out.
She nodded. “Yes. But kids don’t always know that at first. The devil you know is never as scary as the devil you don’t. Besides, foster care seems like a crapshoot to me. There are too many horror stories about awful homes where children are neglected and abused just as badly, if not worse, than they were before.”
