For the Love of Summer

Chapter 9

Erica sat at her kitchen island, watching her mother rinse blackberries.

“They were insanely expensive,” Mara said with a laugh. “But the produce guy said they were delicious.”

She set them on the cheese plate she’d prepared. “All right, I think that’s everything. I put a very nice pinot grigio in the refrigerator. It should be chilled by now.”

Erica waved at the different cheeses, her favorite stuffed olives, the rosemary crackers. “This isn’t spontaneous. You planned it. Why?”

Her mother patted her arm. “Darling, I knew you were meeting with Allison, and that wouldn’t be easy.” Her expression was kind. “Now open the wine and join me at the table. We’ll eat, we’ll talk, we’ll have that second glass.”

Erica’s throat got a little tight. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course. You’re my baby girl.” Her smile turned teasing. “Even if you are closer to fifty than forty.”

“Let’s not talk about that.”

Erica retrieved the wine and two glasses. As she sat at the table, she felt a rumble of hunger. On the way home from Allison’s she and Summer had stopped at Taco Bell. Her kid had put away three tacos and two burritos, but Erica had only sipped water. Normally she enjoyed a Crunchy Taco Supreme as much as the next person, but she’d been too rattled by the visit to eat.

Now, with a little time and distance, she thought she might be able to eat something, and she was definitely up for wine.

Mara waited until they’d both filled their plates.

“So, how was it?”

“Awful.” Erica put a little Brie onto a cracker. “The house is small. Maybe a thousand square feet.” She thought about the furniture in the living room, the battered coffee table and the worn sofa.

“There are only two bedrooms. I didn’t know that. When Summer spends the night, she sleeps on a Murphy bed in Jackson’s room.”

Her mother picked up her wine. “You sound outraged.”

“Per the parenting plan, she’s supposed to have her own room.”

“Yes, but that’s not the real problem, is it? What you don’t like is that she doesn’t mind the arrangement. When she’s home with you, she’s mostly a good kid, but she has her bratty, entitled moments. She disses what you do, won’t bother with her appearance and makes it clear she’s very much her father’s daughter. Now you’re afraid that isn’t as much of an act as you’d hoped. She really does like being there.”

Erica did her best not to wince. “You could at least try to be less blunt.”

“What’s the point? It’s what you’re thinking.”

“I was actually trying not to think it.” Erica felt her mouth twist. “She loves her and is worried about her. The way they hugged. It was like she never wanted to let go. It hurt.”

“You’re the mother,” Mara told her. “You’re dependable. No special care needs to be taken. Plus you’ve always been the strongest person Summer knows so she never has to worry about you. I don’t know anything about Allison, but I’m guessing she’s nothing like you. And now she’s in a pickle.”

“That’s one way of describing her situation.” Erica picked up an olive. “I’m going to talk to Peter’s office manager and find out what’s happening with the business. It sounds like the police had a search warrant and took everything.”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Then how can you help? If the computers are gone, there won’t be any records.”

“The cloud, Mom. Peter has to have backed up his files. Gail should have that information, too.” She shook her head. “The records are easy—it’s the lack of money that’s going to be a problem. I assume they froze the business accounts, too.”

“What are you going to do? And what about Allison? Does she have any options?”

Erica did her best to ignore the whisper of guilt. “I don’t know what her plans are.”

“Is that because you didn’t ask, or because she doesn’t have any? If she has no money, she’s in worse shape than the business. She and Peter rent, don’t they?”

Erica was careful not to look at her mother as she piled meat onto a cracker. “The landlord has sold the house. She has to be out in a couple of months.”

“But isn’t the baby due then? The woman has a toddler, a baby on the way, no money and she has to move out of her home?”

“You sound like Summer.” She stared at the cracker only to realize she suddenly wasn’t hungry.

“The woman is living a nightmare.”

“She’s going to see Peter tomorrow. Hopefully he’ll have some answers. If he can get out of jail, then he’ll be around to help.”

“How is he supposed to make bail? Didn’t you say he shot at the police when they came to arrest him? If that’s true, bail won’t be cheap.” Her mother looked at her. “To quote Princess Leia, you’re their only hope.”

“No, I’m not. I empathize, but she and I barely know each other. I’ll help with the business. As for the rest of it, I’m sure she’ll figure out something.”

Her mother patted her hand. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Erica eyed her. “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course not, but I’m a warm, generous person. I’ll let you have your delusions for as long as you can. Because in the end, it’s not an Allison issue, or even a Peter issue.”

Her mother was right. It was a Summer issue and Erica couldn’t do anything about that.

Allison read the instructions for the eighth time, then checked her reflection. She’d dressed in black maternity pants and a plain gray crew neck sweater that barely covered her huge belly. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry except her wedding ring and she hadn’t bothered with makeup. There was nothing provocative about her appearance.

She’d reduced the contents of her handbag to her wallet, her cell phone and her keys. She had a separate tote for Jackson that included extra diapers, a couple of toys, juice, a sippy cup, crackers and paper towels and wipes. She would leave her handbag in one of the lockers. Jackson’s tote, save a diaper, would stay in the car.

Despite going to bed right after she’d put down Jackson, she was exhausted. She’d tossed and turned, worrying about the upcoming visit and what to expect. She had a feeling TV and movies hadn’t prepared her for the reality of seeing her husband in jail.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. She still had a few minutes until she had to leave. Timing the drive was awkward—she wanted to arrive early, but not too early. Waiting outside for too long risked having her show up with a cranky toddler. But being late cut into her time with Peter.

“It’s not supposed to be this hard,” she murmured to herself, turning her attention to her son, who played with stacking rings on the living room floor.

At least he didn’t know what was going on, she thought. He still occasionally asked for his father, but was mostly happy hanging out with her. She was lucky that he was so easygoing and—

Someone knocked on the front door. Instantly cold rushed through her. It was nine thirty on a Saturday morning. Summer never showed up this early and Allison wasn’t expecting anyone. For a second she wondered if the police were here to trash her home the way they’d trashed Peter’s office. There was a second knock.

She crossed the small living room and opened the door, only to stare in surprise when she saw her former boss on the doorstep, several grocery bags on the porch by her feet.

“Liz?”

“Hi. Yes, it’s me. I thought about calling, but I didn’t know if you’d answer, so I risked stopping by.” Liz offered a tentative smile. “I hope that’s okay.”

It wasn’t, Allison thought in a rush of anger. Liz had fired her for no good reason. Now she had no way to earn childcare credits, which meant when hers were used up, she could no longer afford day care.

Liz bent down and picked up a couple of the bags. “I stopped by the grocery store. Just to pick up a few things.” Her smile wobbled. “To help.”

Some of Allison’s mad faded. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I’m sorry about what happened. I know it seems like a harsh decision and you have every right to be pissed, but I’m hoping I can still be your friend.”

Ambivalence didn’t begin to describe what she was feeling, but she felt like she was alone in the world, so having someone on her side seemed important. Not that she could fully trust Liz, but maybe something was better than nothing.

“Thank you.”

Liz’s smile turned genuine. Together they carried in the groceries. There was a gallon of milk, lots of fruits and vegetables, cereal for Jackson and a couple of packages of raw chicken.

“This is too much,” Allison said, thinking Liz had to have spent at least seventy-five dollars.

“Just say thank you and I’ll sleep better at night.”

“Thank you.”

While Allison put away the groceries, Liz sat down with Jackson.

“Are you doing all right?” Liz asked her.

“Mostly. I’m going to see Peter in a few minutes.”

“He’s still in jail? I would have thought his lawyer would have gotten him out by now.”

Allison didn’t want to admit she wasn’t sure if Jackson had a lawyer yet. “All our bank accounts are frozen. There’s no way to pay bail.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I’m so sorry. You must be terrified.”

She finished with the groceries and walked into the living room. “I’m getting by.”

Liz’s expression turned concerned. “How can I help?”

Give me my job back!But she didn’t bother saying that. Nor could she ask for a place to live or a loan.

“The groceries were very generous. Thank you for those.” She glanced at the clock. “Jackson and I have to go. You have to make an appointment to visit the jail and I don’t want to be late.”

“Sure.” Liz scrambled to her feet. “I’m here if you need me. I mean that.”

“Thanks.”

Liz gave her a quick hug, then left. Allison collected what she needed for the trip and carried the tote, along with Jackson, to the car.

As she buckled him in, she told herself she was excited to finally see Peter. It had been so long and she’d missed him so much. She wanted to know he was okay and find out what was happening. She wanted him to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. She wanted him to say that all this was a mistake, that the charges were being dropped and he would be home by Monday to fix everything.

If only, she thought grimly. If only.

Allison didn’t consider herself a very nervous person, but she couldn’t remember ever being so ill at ease. Nothing about going to a federal detention center was meant to be family friendly—at least not in her limited experience.

The multistory gray building was surrounded by fencing, with gates everywhere. Visitors were asked to park at the light rail station and walk—not easy when she had to leave the stroller in her car.

She stood in line with over a dozen other women—some with kids, some without. They were quiet mostly, their expressions more resigned than happy.

She’d already had her ID checked, her appointment confirmed and her small bag searched. She’d had to walk through a metal detector. Jackson had wobbled along next to her. They went into a room with lockers that could be rented. She put her bag in there, but kept her ID with her, along with a single diaper and cash. She would use the latter to buy a card that could be used in the vending machines. Peter had asked for a cola drink and some doughnuts.

On the way out, they had to pass by a large German shepherd that sniffed each of them thoroughly. Probably for drugs, Allison thought, so out of her element as to be inching close to hysteria. Her sense of unease skyrocketed when Jackson lunged for the dog, obviously intent on hugging it.

“Puppy,” he managed, flinging his arms around the thick neck.

She held in a shriek as she pulled Jackson back, all the while trying not to imagine what those sharp teeth could do to her son. “Don’t! That’s not a puppy. That’s a working dog.”

The guard holding the leash barely gave her a look. “Get back in line.”

Fortunately the dog was much more friendly. He turned his head and gave Jackson a quick swipe of his tongue on his cheek. His tail wagged twice and his expression softened. Then he turned to the next visitors and immediately went on alert, sniffing the woman and the teen.

Allison’s heart was pounding in her chest as she went into the holding area. She used her cash to purchase a card for the vending machines, then waited with everyone else. After a few minutes, Jackson raised his hands.

“Up.”

Her back already hurt, but she didn’t want him to get upset, so she tried to lodge herself into the corner, to get as much support as possible, then lifted him into her arms.

Her lower back screamed in protest, but she ignored the pain. She held him, rocking slightly, willing her name to be called, so she could go in and see her husband.

After what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, she and the other visitors were allowed in. She was the sixth visitor who passed through the guarded door into a big open room.

There were plastic chairs pulled up to low tables. The overhead lighting was harsh, the room sterile. Vending machines lined the far wall, surrounded by a barrier along with a sign saying no prisoners were allowed in that part of the room.

She searched the men filing into the room, looking for—

“Allison!”

She saw him and immediately rushed toward him. “Peter! Peter!”

Jackson saw his father and began to shriek. They closed the distance between them and then Peter’s familiar arms were around her, holding her so tight. She hung on, letting her fear fade, feeling only this minute and how much she’d missed him.

“Hey, Jenkins. That’s enough. Back off or you’re out of here.”

Peter immediately stepped back. “Sorry. It’s my first time having a social visit.”

The guard glared at him. “You know the rules. One hug, one kiss. That’s it. Otherwise keep your distance. I’m not going to tell you again.”

Allison stared at Peter. “I don’t understand.”

He looked at her. “We can’t hug like that. I’m sorry. I got carried away.” He offered her a sad, awkward smile. “There are a lot of rules. But I am allowed to hold Jackson.”

He took their son and settled him easily on his hip, then motioned to some chairs. “Let’s have a seat.”

He said something else, but it was difficult to hear because an airplane flew directly overhead. It was a reminder of how close they were to the airport. Did Peter hear that noise all the time?

She studied him as he smiled at his son. Peter looked pale and thin. His clothes hung on him. She squeezed the card she held.

“Did you want me to get the drink and some doughnuts?” she asked.

“Please.” His mouth turned down. “I have to eat them here. I can’t take anything back to the cell with me.”

She had no idea what to say to that. Everything about this experience was awful. The bright lights, the air of desperation. More and more people poured into the visiting room, raising the volume. Another plane flew overhead.

She bought the cola and a small, plastic bottle of juice, along with two packs of doughnuts. When she returned to her seat, Peter frowned.

“You didn’t want anything for yourself?”

“I have water in the car.”

He opened the can and took a long drink, then sighed. “This is good.” He opened the juice bottle and helped Jackson take a drink. “Hey, little man. How are you doing?”

“Peter, we have to talk,” she said. “What’s happening? What’s going on? Where’s your lawyer? When are you getting out? How are we going to get our bank accounts unfrozen?”

He kept his attention on his son. “I’m so sorry, Allison. I never wanted this to happen.” He paused as a guard walked by. Once they were (relatively) alone, he looked at her. “It’s not what you think.”

She stared at him. “I think you’re in jail. I think I have no money and I’m about to lose my home. Peter, I’m over six months pregnant. Bethany is due in ten weeks. You have to get out of here so you can be with me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He swallowed. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You haven’t hurt me, you’ve terrified me. I can’t handle this. I can’t.”

“It’s going to be okay.” He paused as another plane flew over. “There have been a few misunderstandings, but—”

“Misunderstandings,” she shrieked, interrupting him. “This isn’t a misunderstanding. You’ve been charged with serious crimes. You shot at police. We don’t own a gun.”

He stared at the ground. “I kept one at the office for self-protection.”

What? He’d owned a gun?

She thought about the money in his jacket and the search warrant and the gun. “Do I even know you?”

He flinched as if he’d been struck. “Please, Allison. Don’t say that. I love you with my entire heart. The things I did, the chances I took, they were for us. I wanted you to have a good life.”

“I did until this happened. We were fine. We were happy.”

He leaned toward her, his expression intense. “You were living in some crap rental. I wanted to give you the world, or at least buy you a house. That’s what I was doing. There was going to be an inheritance. I nearly had that worked out. Then there was some trouble with a client and the feds showed up. You know the rest.”

“I don’t know anything. You’re not making sense. Peter, what happened? What did you do?”

“Nothing bad. I give you my word.”

But he wasn’t looking at her as he spoke and while she knew innocent people could be arrested, she had a bad feeling that there was so much more she didn’t know.

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“I’m working on it. I’ve been interviewing them.”

She nearly came to her feet. “Interviewing? What does that mean? Shouldn’t you take the first one you can get?”

“No. I need the right sort. Someone who understands what’s happening and can help me. I’m getting close.”

He sounded so casual, she thought bitterly.

“I don’t understand. Why aren’t you doing everything in your power to be home with your family?”

His gaze shifted, as if he were trying to see who was nearby, then he leaned close and lowered his voice.

“I’m cooperating. I don’t want to go into details, but I have information they want. That’s part of why I need the right lawyer. It’s all a negotiation. I need to stay here until the details are worked out. If I just walk out of here without a good deal, there could be real problems.”

She tried to make sense of what he’d just told her. “If you’re cooperating, then that means you have information about a crime that the authorities want. You said it was a misunderstanding.”

“It was.” He held her gaze. “Just because I know something doesn’t mean I was doing it myself. I have information that’s useful. You have to believe me, Allison. You’re the reason I get up in the morning. I love you. I’ll figure this out and things will be better than before.”

How could they be better? If he was cooperating, then he’d obviously been involved in some serious crimes.

“When are you getting out on bail?”

His gaze slid away. “I don’t know.”

“Before I have the baby?”

“I want to be there.”

The fear returned, making her sick to her stomach. “Peter, I’m alone out there. I have nothing. Jackson and I will be homeless.” Tears burned in her eyes. “I need you to come home and help me.”

“Just hang on a little longer.”

“‘Hang on’?” Anger and fear twisted themselves around each other. “‘Hang on’? That’s easy to say from in here. What do you have to do in a day, except wait for your next meal and call me collect? ‘Hang on’? This is all your fault. You did this to me, to us. We’re married. You’re not supposed to keep secrets and you’re not supposed to ruin our lives. This is on you. All of it.”

She had more to say—about how she’d never thought he was capable of committing a crime, but now she wasn’t sure, and how she was reduced to taking food from friends and asking his ex-wife for advice—but she couldn’t find the words. She was enraged, she was terrified, she was exhausted and every single part of her life was out of her control.

She stood and circled around the low table, then took Jackson from him.

“Allison, what are you doing? Don’t go, please. Don’t. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m going to fix this, I swear. I can make it right.”

She ignored the words and marched steadily to the exit. Another plane flew overhead.

When she reached the guard, she showed her ID. He glanced from his clipboard to her.

“Once you leave, there’s no coming back until your next visiting day.”

“That’s fine with me.”

She walked out, Jackson on her hip, the boy waving back at his father. Peter called out her name, but she didn’t turn around. After getting her small purse from the locker, she started the long walk to the light rail parking lot. It was only when she was in her car that she realized what she’d done. She’d let her temper get the better of her, and had walked out on her husband, leaving him alone. Worse, she hadn’t gotten a single answer—at least none she could use. She’d wasted gas, time and energy, and she was one day closer to the coming shitstorm. And there wasn’t a single thing she could do to stop it.