heart.
Ian hadn’t been with Cecilia when Allison was born. Nor had he been there when Cecilia buried their infant daughter. Standing alone at the tiny gravesite had nearly destroyed her and subsequently their marriage. If not for the wisdom of a family court judge who’d denied their divorce on a technicality, they wouldn’t be together now.
Pressing her hand against her stomach, Cecilia sent her unborn daughter thoughts of love and reassurance. It would be different this time, with this baby. But everything had seemed normal with Allison, too. Cecilia quickly flung aside the doubts that pummeled her. Ian had enough of those for both of them.
Cecilia was five months along now and happier than she could remember being in a long time. She desperately wanted this baby. If it had been up to Ian, they wouldn’t ever have children again. He was afraid. Cecilia was, too, but her desire for a family had prevailed over her fears.
“Morning,” Zachary Cox, her boss, said absently. He sorted through his mail as he walked past her desk, which was located outside his office.
“Morning,” she returned.
“Allison will be in this afternoon,” he said, looking up from the mail long enough to catch Cecilia’s eye. “She’s trying to earn money for a car. Her mother and I told her we’d match whatever she managed to save. I’m hoping there’s enough to do around here to keep her occupied for the next few months.”
Cecilia nodded, excited about seeing Mr. Cox’s teenage daughter again. Cecilia had been hired while Mr. and Mrs. Cox were going through a divorce. The same judge who’d denied her and Ian’s divorce had made the joint custody decision in their case. Judge Olivia Lockhart had stated that the children and not the adults were the ones who needed a stable life. Instead of shuffling between residences, the kids, Allison and Eddie, were to remain in the family home and the Coxes would alternate, moving in and out every few days. It had worked well—better than expected—and before long Zach and Rosie Cox were back together.
Soon after Cecilia had begun working for Mr. Cox, he’d started bringing in his troubled teenage daughter. The after-school job was an effort to keep an eye on the rebellious fifteen-year-old and to limit her exposure to a group of out-of-control friends she’d recently taken up with. Despite all that, Cecilia was almost immediately drawn to her. The fact that Allison shared the same name as her own daughter had cemented their bond.
They’d quickly become friends and Allison often confided in her or asked for advice. Cecilia had watched her blossom from an irrational, angry girl into a lovely young woman of seventeen. The contrast between then and now was striking. Cecilia sometimes fantasized that this was how her own daughter would’ve looked and acted at this age had she lived.
“I’ll be happy to keep her busy,” Cecilia assured her boss. There were always a number of small tasks she didn’t get to by the end of the day, and this would help her catch up before she took her maternity leave.
“Great.” Mr. Cox entered his office, still perusing his mail. “Thanks, Cecilia.”
Cecilia was busy all morning with only a short break—a telephone conversation with her best friend, Cathy Lackey, whose husband was aboard the George Washington with Ian. The two of them had formed their own support group and relied on each other when their husbands were out at sea. Rarely a day passed that they weren’t in touch with each other.
At three that afternoon, Allison Cox showed up at the office, just missing her father, who’d left to meet with a client. Allison was willowy and classic-featured, a lovely girl. She wore her dark-brown hair long, all the way to the middle of her back. As she removed her gray wool coat, Cecilia saw that she’d dressed for the office in a green plaid skirt and white turtleneck sweater. When Cecilia had first met her, Allison’s favorite color was black. The girl had rebelled against the destruction of her family and lashed out at those around her. Cecilia liked to think that their friendship had helped Allison. In reality, she supposed, it was her parents’ reconciliation that had changed the girl’s outlook on life. Still Cecilia liked to think she’d been a good influence, and Mr. Cox had frequently made a point of telling her she had.
That was two years ago, and Allison was now a high school senior.
“It’s so good to see you,” Allison said, hugging Cecilia, although it’d been less than a month since they’d spent time together. “How’s our baby doing?”
Cecilia pressed her hand to her stomach. “She’s kicking. Want to feel?”
Allison’s eyes widened. “Sure.”
Cecilia held the girl’s hand over her stomach and watched as Allison stared intently, bit her lower lip and then after a long moment, dejectedly shook her head. “I don’t feel anything.”
“It might be a little early yet,” Cecilia murmured, trying to remember how far along she’d been with the last pregnancy before Ian could feel their daughter’s movements.
Disappointed, Allison dropped her hand. “Well, I guess I’d better get to work.”
Cecilia set her up at a vacant desk across from her own. During tax season, when the accounting firm hired extra help, every square inch of space was used by temporary employees. It got fairly chaotic from January through April of every year.
Allison had been working for an hour when Mary Lou, who staffed the front desk, hurried into their work area. “There’s a young man asking to see you,” Mary Lou said to Allison. She cast a doubtful look at Cecilia as if to say she wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing.
“Did he give you his name?” Allison asked.
“No, but he said you’d know who he is.”
“What’s he wearing?”
Mary Lou edged closer and lowered her voice. “He has a goatee and has on a long black coat that’s got chains attached. He’s wearing a big cross, too. I don’t mind telling you, he looks a bit scary.”
“That’s Anson.” Allison stood and went out to the front. She was gone for ten minutes and was clearly pleased—no, downright jubilant—when she returned.
Cecilia was more than a little curious. “What was that about?” she asked. Without being obvious, she’d managed to get a glimpse of this Anson character through one of the office windows. Cecilia understood Mary Lou’s concerns. The boy’s hair was long, greasy and dark. His overcoat fanned out from his sides, as though he had weapons concealed beneath it. Presumably he didn’t, but still…He wasn’t the type of boy Cecilia expected Allison to be interested in.
“I barely know him,” Allison claimed. “He’s in my French class and he sits beside me. We’ve talked a couple of times and that’s about it.”
“How did he know you were here?”
Allison shrugged. “One of my friends must’ve told him.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“Not really. He asked about our French assignment.” She grinned shyly and glanced down at the floor. “That was just an excuse, though, ‘cause then he asked what I was doing tonight.”
Cecilia nodded, a little worried about the girl’s attraction to this self-styled rebel.
“He lives with
