Chapter 15: Fallout

The desk sergeant looked down at Allie Henderson from his elevated seat behind the counter.

"Don't worry, Allie. Fred's not pressing charges," he said. "He just wanted to put a scare into the boy. That's usually all it takes."

Allie and Jeff rode home in silence, passing the autumn landscape of brown fields and rich green stands of pine and holly. They rounded the bend on Route 9, and the farm came into view.

"Mom."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Let me explain."

"We'll talk inside."

"You don't understand," Jeff said.

Allie braked suddenly, the truck skidding in the gravel. "Oh, I understand. You were caught stealing." She shifted into park and faced him. "How could you, Jeff? With Pop in the hospital, and me trying to keep the business going?"

"That's not fair," Jeff protested.

"Fair?" Allie shouted, losing her patience. She reached out to slap him, caught herself, and slammed her open palm against the steering wheel instead. Alarmed, Jeff jerked open the door and jumped from the cab. "I can show you. I can show you," he cried, running across the yard toward the back of the house.

"Jeff, get back here," she yelled. She cut the engine and ran after him.

Jeff rounded the house and pulled open the door that led into the cellar.

When Allie reached him, he was on the top step, tears running down his face.

"It was supposed to be a surprise."

"What was?"

"I'll show you, Mom." She followed him down into the darkness.

"I got the idea after President Kennedy said the Russians might bomb us from Cuba. I thought we'd be safe down here: you, Pop, me." He hesitated. "Fred, too. I figured since you were going to get married, taking the stuff from Swiggett's wasn't really stealing. I was wrong." He sniffled.

"I'm sorry, Mom."

Jeff pulled on the light chain, the bare bulb's glare momentarily blinding her.

"I was trying to get enough stuff so we could stay down here a month, until it was safe. It was going to be my Christmas present to you and Pop."

He pulled a blanket away from the wall. Allie saw, neatly lined up on one shelf, a bag of sugar, cans of beans, pears and the corn that had vanished the other day from the kitchen cupboard.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Jeff said. "I just don't want us to die."

"Oh, honey," she said, hugging him tightly.

Allie found Fred stacking empty milk crates behind the store. "Did you have to have him arrested?" she demanded.

"Allie, they just went through the motions at the police station. Do you think I'd want my stepson to have a police record?"

"But couldn't you have called me first? I was scared to death."

"The boy needed to be taught a lesson."

ALLIE SAT CROSS-LEGGED in front of her husband's grave. The small American flag left by the VFW fluttered in the wind. Whenever she was unsure of life or herself, she found comfort at the old Tennyson cemetery. She had to do something to stop her world from falling apart.

She couldn't disagree with Fred. She sat on the hard ground, weighing her happiness against her son's future, until the cold reached every part of her being, and she made her decision.

"DO YOU LOVE HIM, Allie?" Pop said.

"Fred will be a good provider. And Jeff needs a father."

Pop pushed away the hospital tray of Jell-O, broth and ginger ale. "If what ails you doesn't kill you, the food here will," he said disgustedly. "You didn't answer my question."

"Pop, I'm never going to find what Bobby and I had again."

"You never know," he said. She gazed out the window and then turned to him.

"Pop, I've got a question for you. Mind telling me about your plans for the wreaths in the locked storeroom?"

He didn't answer. "I've gone over the books," she said softly. "I read the letters from your buyers. Pop, why didn't you say anything?"

"How could I tell Tammy, Olivia, any of them, that nobody wants their wreaths anymore?" He shook his head. "I couldn't do it."

"But Pop, you don't have the money to pay them yourself," Allie said. "Maybe it's time to shut down."

"I don't have the heart to," he said. For a moment, they were both lost in thought.

"Pop?" Allie said. "Would you walk me down the aisle?"

"I'd be honored," he said, his voice cracking.

Next chapter: Making the case