One Wish (10 page)

“Poor thing,” Gina said.

“She’s coming to stay with me for a little while,” Ray Anne said. “And I’m terrified.”

“You?” Lou asked. “Terrified? I didn’t know anything scared you.”

“This does. Her daddy called me—he said she was still in a world of hurt. I knew she wasn’t getting better. She’s been so depressed she can’t work and can hardly get out of bed, lost a ton of weight and is so pitiful she can’t talk to anyone for five minutes before she just has to go someplace to be alone. She’s still in terrible pain.”

“How sad,” Carrie said. “Are you going to try to cheer her up?”

“Oh, Lord, what do I know about that kind of grief?” Ray Anne said. “If her daddy hadn’t asked me, begged me really, I never would’ve signed up for this. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do!”

“Has she had counseling?” Lou asked.

“Yes, they’ve tried that. She even took antidepressants for a while. And I know there was some grief group at the church or something. That didn’t go well, either.”

“We can look around here for a counselor or grief group. Wouldn’t hurt to try again,” Lou said.

“I thought she was your niece,” Gina said.

“She’s like a niece. Dickie’s like a brother. He and Sue had two little boys then along came Gingersnap and I was in heaven! A pretty little thing who could have fun spending the night at my house—we’d curl our hair, paint our nails, cream our faces, shave our legs...we shaved when she was a little older. We watched musicals and Disney shows together, dressed up, went shopping. I drove to Portland to help her pick out a prom dress, and I helped her stage her wedding—I was the official bridal assistant. Got way under Sue’s skin, I’ll tell you that, but my little Gingersnap was so happy!”

“She’s married?”

“No,” Ray Anne said. “No, her marriage only lasted a couple of years and was falling apart right as she realized she was pregnant and her husband, the bastard, didn’t even try to give it a chance to help raise his own baby. So Ginger did it on her own. At the end of her pregnancy she moved home with her mom and dad. They’d fixed up the upstairs for her so she and the baby had rooms of their own and she could save some money. She worked right up till she started labor. Four months later her little baby boy died in his sleep.”

“What did your cousin ask you to do for her?” Gina asked.

“Nothing,” Ray Anne said with a helpless shrug. “He said the change might help, but he didn’t ask anything specific of me. I think they’re worn-out, that’s what I think. It was Dickie and Sue’s loss, too. They have other grandchildren, but this little one lived with them—their baby’s baby. And I suppose the others can’t get any attention because everyone is busy grieving.” She rested her head in her hand. “I’ll be useless. I’ll probably just sit around and cry with the poor thing.”

“For an hour or so, maybe,” Carrie said. “Then you’ll be done with that.”

“Listen, I don’t have any natural parenting skills. None. God knew what he was doing when I didn’t get to have children.”

“You’d have been an ideal parent,” Lou said. “God’s mistake.”

“Me? Oh, believe me, I know nothing about being a parent and even less about what I can do to help my poor little Ginger while she goes through this terrible time. This is the worst idea Dickie has ever had, and he’s had some real stinkers.”

“No, this is perfect,” Lou said.

“She’s right,” Carrie agreed. “Won’t be so easy on you, but then when our youngsters hurt, it’s awful. Worse for us, I think. But of all the people I know...yes, you’re the one to do it.”

“How can you say that?” Ray Anne demanded.

“I know about some of your tough times,” Carrie said. “I’ve seen you through a few of them since you came to Thunder Point. Money trouble, broken hearts, struggles... There were a couple of times that were pretty awful. You had a mean son-of-a-bitch husband stalk you and you had to run and hide. You had a good friend die—what was her name?”

“Marisa Dunaway,” Ray Anne said, and tears instantly sparkled in her eyes. “She was a good friend for twenty years and the Big C took her, but not until it kicked her ass, made her so sick and weak she was begging to die. Horrible. Horrible.”

“And your parents died when you were little more than a girl,” Lou reminded her as if she needed reminding. She was twenty-two and her parents, both in their late fifties, died so close together, both of cancer. That had been forty years ago. Cancer treatment had come a long way since then, but still, it had taken her best friend ten years ago. “That was a dark time for you. We weren’t friends then,” she added. “I wasn’t there for you.”

“I didn’t even know you then. You’ve been through a lot since I’ve known you,” Carrie said. “But you never indulged self-pity. You grieved hard, but never felt sorry for yourself.”

“Ginger has a right to feel sorry for herself,” Ray Anne said.

“This isn’t about rights,” Lou chimed in. “You had a right to self-pity, too. But you’re a survivor. And you’re a damn good role model. Your cousin is doing a smart thing, sending his daughter to you.”

Ray Anne looked at Lou in surprise. “I didn’t think you liked me enough to say something like that,” she said.

“It’s those shoes I never understood,” Lou said. “And you did steal all my boyfriends until I started keeping them secret from you. But I always admired your strength. You’re a woman on your own, alone, except for a couple of girlfriends and your recent boyfriend, but we don’t count on boyfriends. Women alone have to be smart, strong and durable. We don’t bruise easy. And we can’t waste time and energy feeling sorry for ourselves. We might want to collapse, but we don’t. Probably no one would pick us up!”

“You, too,” Ray Anne said. “When Mac’s wife left him—”

“Ach!” Lou barked. “Alone with three little kids—the smallest nine months old! Practically no money, two low-paying jobs and his only relative was me. I was a full-time teacher. I don’t know how we got through it. And he was a mess! A pathetic, broken mess. Talk about self-pity! Sometimes when you have someone to lead, it’s easier to be strong.”

“What am I going to do?” Ray Anne asked.

“Be yourself,” Gina said, smiling. “Be your wonderful, loving, strong self. Let her talk, push her a little bit, like my mother pushed me when I was a sixteen-year-old mother with no one but her. Get her a little counseling help, bring her around your friends, prop her up with example. Let her see we don’t give up, we work. Sure we cry, sometimes scream, but we take it one day at a time and make every day a little better than the one we just left behind. You’re really one of the best people for the job, I know it.”

“I had no idea you all thought that way about me.”

“Pfft. The only thing I feel sorry for you about is that you just can’t dress yourself properly. You should be in double knits and wedgies like the rest of us over-sixty broads,” Lou said.

“Don’t listen to her,” Carrie said. “The best part about you is you’re unique. As long as you don’t make me dress like a cocktail waitress I won’t make you dress like a gray-haired grandmother.”

Ray Anne couldn’t answer. She felt the emotion in her throat. She’d give anything to be a grandmother. “You really think I’ll be able to help her?”

“If you have trouble...if you have frustrations, we’ll get together and hash it out. We’ve all been through the bitter side of life. It comes with breathing. Giving up was never an option,” Carrie said.

“I have a confession to make,” Ray Anne said. “It’s not like I didn’t feel sorry for myself sometimes. I’ve cried my heart out. Sometimes I cried till I couldn’t stand up straight. It’s just that I never cried like that in front of anyone.”

“I know,” three voices replied together.

* * *

Carrie was having trouble falling asleep. She heard the front door open and close. Then she heard the soft drone of the TV and she rolled over and looked at the clock. Almost one in the morning. She got up and found her robe and opened her bedroom door.

“Did I wake you up?” Rawley asked.

She shook her head. “I was tossing around, not sleeping.” She gave her neck a stretch, tilting her head from side to side, trying to touch her chin to each shoulder. “This is so late for you.”

“That Cooper. He thinks he’s a kid. They went to some party up in North Bend with some of Sarah’s old Coast Guard pals. Sarah had to drive him home.”

“He’ll pay for that.”

“I hope so. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I think too much,” she said.

“Come here, girl,” he said. When she sat beside him on the couch, he turned her so he could rub her shoulders. “Kids okay?” he asked as he massaged.

“They’re all fine. It’s Ray Anne’s kin that’s having trouble.” She told him about Ginger and her need for a change of scenery. “Brings to mind how I always complained so much about how hard my life was when I never lost anything that dear.”

“You lost a husband,” he reminded her.

“Exactly as I said. Nothing very dear.”

He made a sound that was almost a laugh. “Now you got some old vet taking up space in your house.”

“You fit in so well, too. You hardly ever visit that house in Elmore anymore,” she said.

“I almost never go to that house. I keep it as insurance for you.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “What does that mean?”

“Means I don’t want you to worry none if you start to feel crowded and need your space—there’s a place I can go. But I ain’t got hardly a shirt left over there anymore. I never thought I’d end up living in some woman’s house. Who’d a thought there’d be a woman could put up with me?”

“You’re the easiest man I’ve ever known.”

“No one ever accused me of that before.”

“Rawley, I’ve been happy.” She patted one of the hands that massaged her tight shoulders. “You’re a good man.”

“I’ll do my best never to be a burden.”

“I’m the burden!” she said. “Bad knees, sore back and neck, a family that just seems to grow, friends who count on me, a demanding business!”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek right below the ear. His lips were dry and his face whiskery, but she leaned back against him for a moment.

“We get along fine,” he said. “And you just tell me when you need something. I’ll help if I can and get out of the way if I can’t. Since we don’t have all that much time, might as well enjoy it.”

“I hope there’s plenty of time!” she said. “I might be getting creaky but I’m not ready to give up. Especially now that life’s gotten so sweet.”

“Maybe I should’ve said, there ain’t likely to be enough time. I know what. Let’s find the lotion and I’ll give you a proper rubdown. Get some of those creaks out.”

“That sounds lovely.”

Carrie went to her bedroom; the lotion was on the bedside table. The television was turned off and Rawley padded into the bedroom in his stocking feet. Carrie lay down on her side and, after just a minute, Rawley lay down behind her, rubbing lotion between his leathery palms. She lifted her pajama top all the way up, almost over her shoulders, baring her back and most of her front.

“My hands are gonna be a little cold,” he said.

“I think maybe you should consider renting that house in Elmore. You could let it bring you some income.”

“You in need of money, girl?”

She sighed. “No, Rawley. For the first time in my life, I think I have everything I need.”

“Then maybe we’ll sell that house. Put the money against retirement.” He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled a little, rolling her toward him. “How many houses we need?”

“Only one, as far as I can see,” she said. “Think anyone really notices?”

“In this town they notice everything,” he said. “Think I really care?”

She laughed with him for a minute, then she rolled back so he could rub her back. He had strong, kind hands, the sort of hands she’d never expected to feel on her bare back. “That’s so nice,” she murmured.

Eight

T
roy parked his Jeep behind the flower shop and called Grace. “I’m done at Cooper’s. Is it too late for me to come by?”

“I’m with one of my other boyfriends,” she said.

He grinned at that. “Can you ask him to step aside for a little while?”

“Is this a booty call?”

“No, it’s not, as a matter of fact. I wanted to tell you something, but if you turn it into a booty call, I probably won’t fight you off.”

She laughed. “When will you be here?”

“I’m parked in the alley. And it’s not really so late.”

“Come up!”

He was already standing at the top of the stairs when she opened the door.

“You didn’t work very late tonight,” she said, pulling him inside. She put her arms around his neck, kissing him. “You know what? I really like this boyfriend stuff. It’s very convenient. I was just thinking about a kiss.”

He pulled her closer. “You were, were you?” He nuzzled her neck and pressed against her. He fit so well against her soft curves, even though she was much shorter. He put his hands under her butt and lifted her, lining them up even better. Then he kissed her again.

“I thought you wanted to tell me something,” she whispered against his lips.

“Right,” he said distractedly, kissing her again. “No rush.” Of course he began to grow against her enticing form.

“If you keep this up, you’ll forget what you wanted to tell me,” she warned him.

“No worries. It’ll come back to me. You okay?”

“With you? Always okay.”

He kept kissing, then touching, then gyrating. “Aw, Gracie,” he moaned. “Let’s talk a little later, all right?”

“All right.”

“Bed? Sofa? Table? Floor?” He swallowed. “Wall?”

She giggled.

“I could rip your clothes off right here,” he said.

“Oh? And do you sew?” She pulled his hand from her breast and led him to the bed. “It will be more practical if we just undress. Ripping and tearing could be fun, but problematic.”

“What if I’m feeling a little wild?” he asked, smiling into her pretty eyes.

“You can get a little wild when we’re naked,” she said, dropping her jeans and shedding her denim shirt.

“I can do that,” he said, getting rid of his clothes even faster. She was down to her tiny panties, so sheer and small they almost weren’t there. He followed her onto the bed and reached for those panties with one big hand. “Oops,” he said, ripping a short seam.

“You’re very hard on my underwear.”

“I’m surprised you have any left,” he said.

“I love my panties.”

“Not as much as I do! God, Gracie, I think you were expecting me,” he said, covering her mouth with his and separating her knees with one of his. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Just as long as I can do it to you again,” she whispered. “And again...”

* * *

Even with all the romances Grace had read, just dreaming about true love, nothing had prepared her for what it would really feel like. As she lay naked in Troy’s arms, enjoying postcoital bliss, catching her breath, ready for sleep, she sighed his name.

“Right here, baby,” he said, pulling her tighter against him.

“I think you spoil me.”

“That’s my intention. You feel good?”

“I’m ruined for other men.”

“Good. I can’t think about you ever being with another man.”

They were quiet for a few seconds. “You said
ever
,” she said.

He rolled her over until she was on top of him, her hair a mussed canopy around their faces. “I did. You bring out some feelings in me that I don’t recognize. I don’t want to think about you ever being with anyone else. I don’t want to be with anyone else.” He brushed back her hair. “I should slow down, right? Because you’re not ready for talk like that. Your other boyfriends never try to hold you down like that.”

She shook her head. Pretend boyfriends rarely did—they were both all too aware of that. Here was the first flesh-and-blood boyfriend to hold her, love her, possess her. She didn’t want anything to change.

“We both know what’s missing from this perfect relationship,” he said.

“Missing?” she asked.

“What you’ve told me about yourself, about growing up, wouldn’t fill a chapter in one of your romances, Grace. Even your paper boyfriends would have questions.”

“But you haven’t asked me any questions,” she said.

He shook his head. “I told you, you can trust me. And when you feel safe you’ll tell me.”

“You think I’m hiding something.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “It’s all right. I’m hiding a few things, too. Just things I don’t talk about a lot. Iraq. I hate talking about Iraq, except sometimes with my boys—we laugh about terrible things that aren’t really funny. There were youthful scrapes here and there. Trouble in high school, but nothing worse than the kids I teach now run into. We have years. We have plenty of time to learn everything about each other. I hope we don’t take too long.”

“But what if I say something that changes everything?” she asked him.

“See, that’s the other thing missing—you know me, Gracie. You think I’m that kind of guy? That I’d measure you? Judge you by something in your past? You’re an amazing, beautiful, kind, wonderful woman. I dare you to try to change my opinion.”

She chewed her bottom lip.
Do it
, she told herself.
Do it
now.

But she couldn’t. Not naked!

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Is that why you came over tonight?”

He looked startled for a moment, then he started to laugh. He rolled with her again so that she was beneath him. “No, no. Gracie, the second you put your lips on me, you empty my brain! Don’t you understand—I can’t stay away from you? If I’m alone with you, I can’t think of anything but getting busy. Then I want to do it again. Then I want to eat.”

“Does everyone make love this much?”

“I don’t know. They should. I think we’re getting better, don’t you?”

She nodded and smiled.

“I wanted to come over and tell you—a friend of mine is coming to visit in a couple of weeks, if it works out. And I have to ask a favor—can I stay with you while he’s here? I don’t have an extra room or bed. If it was just Denny, I’d take the couch, but he’s bringing his wife and she’s pregnant. I think they could use a decent place to sleep and a little privacy.”

“You stay here half the time anyway,” she said.

“Will you check your calendar, because if you have a wedding or something, we’ll change dates. He’s a farmer, see, and he either comes before the planting gets serious or he has to wait till after harvest.”

“A farmer?” she asked. “You never mentioned a friend who’s a farmer.”

“He’s a buddy from the Marines and he stumbled on this organic farm down in California. He was just helping out while he was looking for a better job and it turned out he liked it. His wife is a teacher like me, that means it’s weekends or nothing.”

“A farmer and a teacher?” she asked. “Wow, that’s so...
normal
!” With normal childhoods, no medals or stalkers, going to school every day, going to the prom, getting speeding tickets or into fights or falling in love like normal kids...

“Wait till Denny tells you about his farm—it’s pretty far-out. So—can you check for weddings? Because I know you have to keep the shop open, at least a little bit, but I was hoping we could have some fun with them.”

“If I don’t have any big events I can post a notice that I’ll close early on that Saturday.”

“That would be great, Gracie. If you wouldn’t mind too much, if it doesn’t cost too much. Because we could have fun. And with Becca pregnant, it won’t be anything too adventurous.”

“So, you’re not going to risk your life this time?” she asked.

He snuggled closer. “Gracie, sweetheart, wiggle up against me...yeah, just like that. Move those perfect little hips, aah. You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

“Tell me about Denny’s farm,” she said.

“No, we’re not talking about him anymore. He’s a buzzkill.” He grabbed her legs at the backs of her knees, lifting them, tilting her upward. “God, you’re magic. I’m glad I taught you how to do this.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Don’t you think I’d have caught on eventually? Are you really going to take credit?”

“It makes me feel manly,” he said. Then his breath caught. “God,” he said when he felt her hand on him, gently stroking. “Gracie, Gracie, you’re a witch... You’re going to kill me, that’s what you’re going to do. Please, kill me.”

She directed him into her, felt him fill her, dug her heels in and pushed against him. Then she wrapped her legs around him and rode with him, stroke for delicious stroke, just like they’d been doing it for years. She came first. When she felt him let go, she held on. He liked it when she did that. And when he was coming down she whispered, so softly he might not have heard, “I love you.”

He didn’t say
I love you, too
.

* * *

Troy was in a daze when he went into the bathroom in Grace’s loft. He was thinking about her beautiful smile, her perfect laugh, the body that welcomed him so naturally, as if they were experienced lovers when they were really new. His fulfillment was always complete, leaving him weak and grateful. And she’d said she loved him. His heart was so full he was tempted to push the issue then and there, tell her what he knew, force her to come clean with him so they could get on with their lives. But it would be better if she came to him with the truth, trusted him.

He went back to bed, crawled in beside her and pulled her into his arms. He pulled her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck.

“Hmm. I thought you were hungry.”

“Honey, we have to get you on the pill. Soon.”

She rolled onto her back and looked at him. “Huh?”

“I think it’s time for us to stop messing around with just a condom. They’re not a hundred percent.”

“So, what are you getting at?” she asked.

“We should be better protected. Is there any reason you’re not on the pill?”

“It never occurred to me before. Before you.”

“Yeah, of course. You should see the doctor. Or Peyton—Peyton could take care of you if you prefer a woman. We don’t want to have to deal with complications like pregnancy.”

She gasped. “You mean I could be pregnant?”

“You shouldn’t be—we’ve been careful. But it’s not worth the gamble. It would be a bummer to get pregnant—that’s not the plan. That could put a serious damper on our fun.”

“Our fun?” she asked softly. “You can say pregnant and fun in the same sentence?”

“Well, I’m not in the market for a baby, are you?” he asked. He grabbed her small waist. “At least it would be a few months before your belly got in the way of our good times.” Then he laughed at his own joke.

“Did you just say that? Really? That it would get in the way of our good times?”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t joke about it. Listen, can you do it? Check with the doctor and see if you can take the pill?”

“Sure,” she said.

Then she rolled away from him and closed her eyes and her mouth before she screamed.

* * *

Grace didn’t stir when Troy got up early. She feigned sleep while he dressed, kissed her cheek and left to go back to his apartment to get ready for work. When her loft was quiet, she rolled over on her back and blinked. She wasn’t sure why she felt so emotional. He was right, after all. This was no time to get caught. But she was a hopeless romantic—she wanted love, marriage, children, happily ever after. Weddings were a big part of her job, after all.

It was just that when a guy you’d whispered love words to talked about the possibility of an accidental pregnancy, shouldn’t he say something tender? Something like
Please don’t worry—I’d never leave you to deal with it alone
. Or maybe,
You know how much I care about you
. Or how about a real stretch?
It’ll be okay, Grace, because I love you.

Then she asked herself, was she expecting him to do it all when she still hadn’t been completely honest with him? After all, the secret of who she was wasn’t shameful. It was just weird and complicated. She had no idea how he’d react. Would he let it out? Would Grace Dillon vanish as she became Izzy Banks all over again?

She opened the shop a little early, tidied up and made herself a list, and the top of the list was a visit to the clinic. She refreshed the water in the flowers in the cooler. She’d go see Peyton as soon as the clinic opened to get it over with. When she heard the bell to the shop’s front door jingle, she peeked out and almost had a heart attack. There stood Peyton! She had a sudden irrational fear that Troy had called her, told her to go take care of Grace.

“Are you all right?” Peyton asked. “Did I startle you or something?”

“I just... I mean, I was just going to walk down to the clinic to see if you were available. What a coincidence!”

“I’m totally available,” Peyton said, smiling. “Scott’s covering for me. What’s up? You feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Grace said. “But why are you here?” she asked.

“Well, Scott and I plan to get married on my folks’ farm in late April. Everything will be blooming and there will be a lot of fruit blossoms involved. Is there enough time to talk about some other wedding flowers?”

“I’ll have to check my book—I have a couple of weddings in April. But there’s plenty of time to order and make up arrangements and bouquets,” she said happily. This was her comfort zone. While she talked flowers, she’d work on her confidence. After an hour of flower talk, she’d be ready. “What have you got there?” she asked, indicating a flat box Peyton held under one arm.

“Some pictures. I know—usually the florist shows the bride-to-be flowers. But a wedding on the farm is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. The pear trees will be in full bloom. If it’s a warm winter they’ll start early and if it’s a late spring they’ll just be starting. My mother’s gardens will be blooming and so will my aunts’ and cousins’. When a Basque girl gets married, everyone brings flowers and food.” She laughed a little. “Even when the
girl
is thirty-five!”

“It doesn’t sound like you need me,” Grace said.