Infamous (45 page)

“They gave Charlie a matter of months, even with his
chemotherapy treatments up in Anchorage,” Bev said now. “So he came and asked me—and then my mother—if he could marry me. He wanted to spend the time he had left—the rest of his life—with me.”

“How could I refuse?” Rose asked. “Beverly had loved this boy for years.”

“You didn’t really have a choice,” Bev said cheerfully. “I was going to Anchorage with him, regardless of what you said.”

“Oh, I had a choice,” Rose said imperiously.

“She didn’t have a choice,” Bev whispered to Alison.

Rose ignored her daughter. “Charlie defied the odds. His prognosis wasn’t good, yet he went into remission about six months after they were married,” she told Alison. “It was something of a medical miracle.”

“Personally,” Bev said with a smile, “I believe it was a miracle of another kind. That was in 1980. Thirty years of cheating death. Even after all this time, when I wake up in the morning and see Charlie beside me, I still thank God for the gift of another day with him.”

And now Alison didn’t dare look at A.J., because she really
was
a coward, and he knew it, too.

She was leaving. As soon as Henry’s private jet returned from refueling in Juneau. Which would happen that afternoon. She was just waiting for her phone to ring with the exact departure time.

“Jamie always used to say things happen for a reason,” A.J. said quietly. “I used to think that was just a crock. But with Bev and Charlie, you’ve got to wonder. One of the theories is that he responded so well to his chemo because it was started as early as possible. If he’d delayed, if he hadn’t enlisted and had that blood test …”

“Which he wouldn’t have done if I’d been turning seventeen instead of sixteen,” Bev pointed out. “You can get into this whole world of
what if
s that’ll drive you crazy. You know, I almost didn’t go into the art store on my birthday. I was supposed to go to the movies, but my three best friends all got the flu. At the time I was so upset. My birthday was
ruined. And then Charlie gave me that wonderful present and then—God—
kissed
me. And I was flying, but he was so upset and even angry—at me, and I didn’t understand, and then he was
gone
, and I cried for weeks. But that was nothing compared to the pain that was barreling toward me—when he came back and sat in our living room and told me that he was dying.…” Her voice broke, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I still …”

“No.” Alison reached across the table and took her hand. “Don’t apologize. I can’t even imagine how awful it must’ve been.”

“Awful and wonderful,” Bev told her. “Because there was joy, too. He
loved
me, this amazing, beautiful boy that I’d loved forever. I knew my mother and A.J. and Adam and everyone in the family—even Charlie himself—were terrified for me. If he died, I mean, God, at the time, they thought it was going to be
when
he died, not
if
. But if he did? My mother had lived through that and it really must’ve scared her to death because she knew what was in store for me, but she said yes, because she also knew that love like that is worth the risk.

“As for me, I learned what really mattered. I learned to live in the moment. Tomorrow was coming—I knew that well enough. But Charlie and I, we made sure we spent every moment right there, living for today.” Bev smiled. “It gets a little harder when you have kids, but … And speaking of miracles, both of our daughters were conceived in vitro. Charlie knew the chemo would sterilize him, so he did the sperm bank thing. We’ve been endlessly lucky. Amazingly blessed.”

Alison looked up to find A.J. watching her again.
Live for today
was a variation on the theme of
one day at a time
.

She wanted to cry, because she wasn’t as brave as Bev—and she knew she’d never be.

A.J., bless him, gently changed the subject, telling his mother and sister that Alison had been excited about finding the Bible that Melody had given to Jamie, and Jamie had then given to A.J.

“I’m still eager to read Melody’s diary,” Alison told them, “but things like this Bible are what I’m looking for. And we
really do need to come up with a lot more than just one signed book to convince the skeptics. I have to be honest. The fact that there are no town records prior to 1978 is going to be suspect.”

“The fire in the town hall is well documented,” Rose pointed out.

“But awfully convenient,” Alison pointed out. “Considering Jamie died in ’77.”

“Someone must have some records—originals of birth certificates,” Bev said. “I have a lot of cousins. We can ask everyone to check their attics. And we haven’t even tried contacting Great-aunt Rebecca. She and Irma usually visit starting in April, but Irma just had a knee replaced, so they’re in Florida until early July.”

“Really?” A.J. said, and Alison looked up, only to find he was talking not to them, but to Jamie. He was looking at an empty space near the refrigerator and nodding. “Of course. That would …” He turned to look from Bev to Rose to Alison. “Sorry, that must seem so strange.”

“Jamie’s here?” Bev asked. “Hi, Gramps.”

“He says hi,” A.J. said, and Alison could feel Rose watching her, no doubt picking up on her discomfort. “He says we should check into military records. But he’s got a question I can’t answer. He has a phone number and he wants to find out who it belongs to—you know, get a name, and maybe even an address.”

“Google it,” Bev said. “That’s where I’d start. Tell him I’ll help him with it. Whose number is it?”

“He says
Thank you, dear, but it’s too long a story to go into right now
, because … He also says … Mom has some … really good news to share …?”

Rose sat back in her chair. “Really,” she said. She waved her hand in a grand gesture. “Then, by all means, let him tell you what it is.”

A.J. returned his attention to the thin air beside him, and laughed, adding, “Wow,” as he held his hand to his forehead, as if he’d just heard brain-breaking news. He turned to his sister. “Do you know about this?”

“I don’t think so,” Bev said. “No fair, Gramps. Why can’t you haunt me?”

“He says Mom’s getting married,” A.J. told his sister.

“What?” Bev was astonished. “Okay, Age, now I’m on her side. That’s crazy. Who on earth—”

“Tom,” A.J. said. “Jamie says she and Tom have been more than friends for—holy crap—nearly ten years now.”

Bev’s mouth was open as she turned to her mother, who was looking at A.J. with suspicion.

“Jamie
told you that,” Rose asked. “Not Tom?”

“Oh, my God,” Bev said. “You and Charlie’s
father
 …? And you didn’t tell me?”

Alison stood up. “Maybe I should …” She pointed toward the living room and the front door.

“Ten
years?”
Bev said, turning her indignation upon A.J., who held up his hands.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he said. “I’m just finding out about this now, too.”

Alison tried to make herself invisible, figuring she’d go out on the porch to give them privacy as Rose admitted, “I didn’t know how to tell you. It started after A.J. finally came home from rehab, and … I didn’t know what either of you would say.”

As Alison slipped out of the house, gently closing the screen door behind her, she glanced back to see Bev hug her mother as she started to cry. “How could you think I’d say anything other than Tom’s wonderful? Mommy, he’s the kindest, most perfect man I’ve ever met—besides Charlie. I love him—do you love him?”

“I do,” Rose admitted, and Alison stepped even farther out onto the porch, because the ice queen was actually starting to cry, too. “But he’s not your father.”

“I barely knew my father,” Bev said. “Jamie was my father. And Adam and Tom, too. Although, oh, my God, does this mean Charlie’s going to be my stepbrother?”

They both started to laugh as A.J. stepped out onto the porch, meeting Alison’s eyes and smiling. “I figured I’d let them …” He shrugged. “I think it’s great.”

“Your mother needs to hear those words from you,” Alison told him. “You make sure you tell her. She needs your approval.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. But then his smile faded. “Jamie’s idea was a good one—military records. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. His three younger sons served in the Second World War, and Jim and Skyler both served in the First. George—Rebecca’s twin—was killed when his plane was shot down. It happened a week after Melody passed.”

“Oh, my God,” Alison said.

“Jamie just told me that there was extra paperwork that needed to be filed, because George listed both of his parents as beneficiaries, you know, to receive his death benefits? He also remembered that the telegram he received—about George’s death—was addressed to Melody, too. I’ll put the word out, see if someone in the family has the original or even a copy. I have this memory of one of the younger cousins writing a report about Uncle George for school a few years ago. Maybe Joey. He majored in history and … You’d like him—you should meet him. If you … stay.”

Alison nodded, unable to hold his gaze. “I can’t stay, A.J. I know you think I’m a coward and … I am. I’m sorry—I really am—that I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he said, it was drowned out by a loud boom. Sharp, like an explosion, it echoed across the mountains as Alison felt a sudden burst of pain in her upper arm.

Before she could look to see—had she been stung by an enormous Alaskan-sized bee?—A.J. tackled her, knocking the wind from her lungs as he pushed her hard to the porch floor, covering her with his body.

There was another explosion and something whistled past her head and slammed into the side of the cabin.

A.J. moved fast then, faster than she’d ever seen him move before, picking her up and hauling her back inside, slamming and locking the door shut behind them. “Get down!” he shouted. “Get away from the windows! Jamie! I need your eyes outside!”

Another explosion boomed and the front window shattered, and A.J. covered Alison again, shielding her from fragments of glass that sprayed into the room.

God, she was dizzy, and her arm really hurt, and she had no idea
what
was going on.

“Oh, Jesus,” A.J. said, his voice hoarse as he pulled back to look down at her. “Bev, call nine-one-one! Mom! I need you!” It was odd, but his T-shirt—the same shade of blue as his eyes—was now sprayed and streaked with red. “Alison, God, were you hit anywhere else?”

Hit? She looked down at her arm and—holy shit. She was bleeding. The red on A.J.’s shirt was blood.
Her
blood.

There was another explosion and a solid
thunk
hit the sturdy front wall of the cabin. And suddenly it all became clear.

Someone was shooting at them. Someone was shooting at them, and she’d just been shot.

Alison had been shot by someone who was continuing to fire at the front of the cabin.

She’d been hit only once, though, thank God for small favors. A.J.’d run his hands across her, down her legs, making certain of that.

“Jamie!” A.J. called. “What the hell is going on …?”

“Phone’s out,” Bev reported from the kitchen. “Line’s dead.”

“Use your cell!” A.J. ordered.

His mother was there, then, kneeling beside him, cool and calm. “She’s going to be okay,” she told him, then told Alison the same thing. “You’re going to be fine. Nothing’s broken. We just need to stop the bleeding.”

“Here.” A.J. yanked off his shirt, handing it to his mother, even as he called to his sister, “Bev, towels! Clean ones are in the middle drawer.”

He had to get to his rifles—kept for protection against bears and wolves—but they were on the other side of the living room, securely locked in their case.

“My cell phone’s not working either,” Bev reported as she
crawled across the living room floor, delivering a pile of folded kitchen towels to her mother.

The other front window broke with a crash and again A.J. tried to shield them from the glass.

“Get her into the kitchen,” he sharply ordered his mother and Bev, as if they were grunts in his platoon. How quickly it all came back—the ability to think clearly and decisively under fire.

He moved then—fast—across the room, skidding on the broken glass as he dove into the corner where he kept his weapons. His keys were in his pocket and he dug for them even as Alison called out for him: “A.J., don’t leave me!”

“I won’t,” he said as he unlocked the case and grabbed both of his rifles and two boxes of ammo. “I’m right here. Bev!”

He sent one of the weapons skittering across the hardwood floor and into his sister’s capable hands. Jamie had spent plenty of target-practice time with her, too.

“Is the back door locked?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” A.J. said, and Bev nodded.

“I’ll check.”

“Be careful,” Alison called.

It wasn’t hunting season, but for some of the residents of Alaska, the words
in season
meant nothing. However they were also less likely to fire away blindly in populated areas. And they’d damn well know where A.J.’s cabin was, and stay far away.

Unless, of course, excessive amounts of alcohol were in play, turning them into brain-dead idiots.

Tourists, on the other hand, could be brain-dead idiots completely on their own.

It was entirely possible that someone had set up target practice out on the road, thinking they were in the middle of nowhere—not realizing his cabin was just around the bend.

A.J. was just about to dash back into the kitchen, to see if maybe his cell phone—charging on the counter—would work to call for help, when Jamie popped back in.

He didn’t look happy. “Kid,” he said. “You’re in serious trouble. There’re at least two of ’em. I haven’t seen the
second—he’s somewhere hunkered down out in front, to keep you locked down and away from your trucks. The first man’s mobile and he’s carrying an arsenal. He’s working his way around to the back.”

“Doors and windows are all locked!” Bev reported as she returned to the kitchen, almost as if she’d heard Jamie’s dire report.

But Jamie shook his head. “He’s got an assault weapon,” he told A.J., “that’ll get him through any door or window that his black heart desires.”