Three Wishes (22 page)

Bree was short of breath. Holding the ring box in her hand, she hugged Tom again. “Thank you,” she whispered against his cheek, seconds before drawing back to look inside the box once more. The ring was still there.

“Put it on.”

She was about to. Then she had a thought that wiped the smile from her face. Without hesitancy, because she knew it had to be said, she blurted, “I can't have kids, Tom. I can't. There's scar tissue.”

He went still. “From the accident?”

She nodded. “You want kids. I know you do. I've heard you talk about your nieces and nephews. I've seen you with Joey Little.”

He was shaking his head. “We'll adopt.”

“It isn't the same.”

“It
is.”
He removed the ring from its box and slipped it on her finger. Then he raised it to his mouth, kissed it, and looked her in the eye. “I wasn't thinking about kids while I was walking around New York. I was thinking about you.”

“But you want family. That's what you've missed.”

“Right, and the root of family is a man and a woman. If the root stinks, the whole thing fails.” He gave her a crooked grin. “There's no other woman I want to root with.”

She could feel the sincerity in him. Tears welled again.

“Marry me, Bree?”

No matter that she had his diamond on her finger: hearing the words in the air stole her breath. She must have looked dumbfounded, because he laughed. The sound was full and rich, as she imagined life with him would be. “I thought for sure you'd decide it was New York that you loved,” she cried. “I was lying here thinking it was all over, like a dream that ends in one second of waking up.” The ring sparkled as she turned her hand. Its light brought a special kind of calm.

 

“I wished for heat,” she told him, at three in the morning. They had made love, made pizza, and made more love. Now they lay in the sweet redolence of passion and sweat, Bree with her cheek over the strong beat of Tom's heart. Her hand lay nearby on his chest, fingers splayed. She flexed the third one to see the diamond sparkle. The excitement of it nullified fatigue.

Tom must have felt the same way, because there was nothing sleepy about his voice. “Wished for it?”

“Closed my eyes, pictured the being of light, and wished. Nothing happened. I waited and waited, then finally went to the diner. By noontime, the house was on fire.”

He chuckled. “So here you are in a house with plenty of heat, and here you'll stay. You got your wish.”

She raised her head. “Did I? I wished for heat, and there was a fire. Was it my wish or something more logical, like an erratic old furnace? I've thought about this, Tom. In the figurative sense, I did get my wish. But what about the literal sense? Did I actually cause that fire by wishing for heat?”

“If you're feeling guilty, don't.”

“I can't help it. That was a
home.”

“It was a thing. It can be replaced.” He stroked her cheek, suddenly serious. “I'm sorry about the business about kids, Bree. I'm sorry you had to hear that from the doctor and keep it all to yourself. If you'd told me, I could have shared the pain.”

“You did. You came to my house that night and held me when I cried.”

“You should have told me why you were crying.”

“You'd only have felt more guilty about the accident. I don't want you feeling that. I don't want to think you gave me this ring because of guilt.”

“Selfishness is more like it. You're the best thing that's happened to my life. Giving you a ring is the first step in tying you down. So. What do you think? We could get married next week, or next month. A Valentine's Day wedding might be nice.”

Bree put her head down, smiled against his chest, and savored the moment. “We'll decide.”

“When?”

“Soon. I've never been engaged before. I want to enjoy it for a while.”

 

That night, she dreamed she had a baby. It was a little boy, a miniature version of Tom as he'd been in the family pictures she had seen. He was perfectly formed and alert, focusing startlingly clear eyes on them as though, right from that moment of birth, he knew exactly who they were. Paternal pride swelled Tom so that he grew a whole twelve inches, there and then. As for Bree, she was filled with so much love that she just . . . burst.

She awoke with a start, feeling that love still. And the sadness of knowing that the dream was only a dream? It was forgotten, first in Tom's arms, then in the excitement that filled the diner when her friends saw the ring.

10

“W
ho'd have thought it,” Jane said, after oohing and ahhing over the ring. Her excitement was genuine. Since she would have given anything to be married herself, that was doubly meaningful. “I am so-o-o”—she hugged Bree —“happy for you. It's a dream come true.”

Bree glanced at the put-up shelf, saw that no orders were ready yet, and took Jane's arm. “I have to talk with you.” She led her through the diner's kitchen to the small office at the rear and shut the door. “I need your opinion.”

Jane held up her hands. “I know
nothing
about weddings.”

“Not about that.” Bree hadn't begun to think about that. A wedding would be a while in the coming. Other things were more immediate. “You know me as well as anyone. You know that I'm sensible. You know that I'm levelheaded. Aren't I?”

Jane nodded vigorously.

“Do you believe me when I say I had an out-of-body experience?”

Jane opened her mouth, then closed it. After a minute, she said, “You wouldn't have said you had one if you didn't believe you had.”

“But do you believe they're possible?”

“I might not if anyone else was saying it, but you don't dream things up.”

Bree pressed her lips together. She debated for a final minute. Then, taking a deep breath, she told Jane about the three wishes. Jane's eyes grew larger and larger.

“You mean you can make things happen just by wishing them?”

“I don't know. I don't know if I did. That's the problem.”

“How's it a problem? You got heat. You got an even better place to stay. You always hated your house.”

“But the house is my inheritance. I didn't mean to burn it down when I made that wish.”

“Did you go over there this morning?”

“No. I'm a coward. Tom went.” It was gruesome, he said, and he urged her to wait until the shock wore off. One part of her wanted to know what remained and what didn't. The rest of her—the part that didn't want anything touching her happiness—was content to stay away. “He said that the fire inspector came in from St. Johnsbury. What if he says it was
arson?
Will they accuse me of it?”

“Arson means using matches and gasoline. You didn't do anything like that.”

“No. I just wished.”

Jane considered that for a minute, scrunched up her nose, shook her head. “That probably had nothing to do with it.”

“Then the wishes aren't real?”

Jane looked doubtful, but Bree couldn't give it up. Simon Meade had a mole on the back of his neck. She could only have seen it from outside herself, which meant that her out-of-body experience had been real. If that was so, she didn't see why the being of light and his three wishes couldn't be real, too. “Maybe I should ask Verity.”

“Don't ask Verity. Verity is crazy.”

“Not crazy. Just eccentric.”

“She thinks thunder is the sound of God bowling.”

“So did I, when I was younger.”

“Then you grew up.”

And Verity hadn't grown up? Not so long ago, Bree might have agreed with Jane. That was before things had happened to her that she would have sworn were impossible. “Maybe I'm crazy, too. I swear I was told I had three wishes to make. I swear I was sent back to earth just to make them.”

“Then try another,” Jane suggested. “Something specific, so you'll know if it worked. Heat is too vague. It can be taken lots of ways. This time, wish for a
thing.”

“I don't want a
thing.”

“It may be the only way you'll know if the wishes are real.”

“But if they are, that will be my second wish. And then what?”

“You'll make a third.”

“And
then
what?” Three strikes and you're out, was what she was thinking.

Jane simply grinned. “Happiness forever after?” Her grin faded in the next breath when the office door flew open.

“Jane.” Dotty gave a long-suffering sigh and a withering look. “I have been waiting outside for twenty minutes. You're supposed to drop me home if you want the car, and you need the car if you're going to Ashmont. They're expecting you at the community center in thirty minutes.”

“It doesn't take long to get there,” Jane said, though she quickly gave Bree a hug and moved toward the door.

Bree knew Dotty hadn't been waiting any twenty minutes. Jane had been checking the front lot until Bree dragged her back to the office, and that had been no more than five minutes before. But arguing with the woman would only make things worse for Jane.

“Don't I get to see the ring?” Dotty asked Bree.

Bree would have liked to hide it. But that would have made things worse for Jane, too. And besides, mere mention of the ring made Bree grin. She held out her hand.

Dotty turned her ring finger one way, then the other. “It looks like a decent diamond.”

“Mother.”

Dotty frowned at Jane. “What?”

“It's
a perfect
diamond.”

“You're a jeweler now? For all you know, this diamond is cracked or chipped or inferior or
fake.
It's a perfect diamond.' That shows how much
you
know. It would be
another
thing if you'd ever had a diamond of your own.”

Bree took back her finger. “Jane's no fool. If the choice was between a lousy guy and no diamond, I'd pick no diamond, too.”

“Ward Hawkins is a disgusting man,” Jane said under her breath.

Bree agreed. He lived two towns over and had been married four times. He proposed to Jane on a regular basis.

Dotty snorted. “At least he offered.” With an arch look at her watch, she left the office.

“Go,” Bree urged Jane. “We'll talk later.”

“I'm really happy about your ring.”

“I know. Now go.” She gave a gentle push. Jane was barely gone when Flash appeared. He was looking back at the pair.

“Why does Jane take it?” he asked. “Why doesn't she just leave?”

Bree had asked Jane that many a time. She answered Flash the same way Jane always answered her. “Where would she go?”

“Anywhere
would be better than living with Dotty.”

“On what? What's she got for money?”

“Same thing you have. The difference is that you work.”

“So does Jane, only she doesn't get paid for it.”

“She should charge for her artwork.”

“She can't. The town won't pay.”

“Neither will I, if you don't get back up front.”

Bree left the office. “Food's up?”

“Not yet. But everyone wants to see your ring. Now that you're engaged to marry a celebrity, you're a celebrity yourself. It's kind of a fairy tale, y'know?”

 

Tom's celebrity status was reinforced, now that he was engaged to marry the town's own celebrity. Bree's popularity in Panama had people acknowledging him with a warmth that had previously been withheld. He was congratulated at the post office when he went for his mail, at the bank when he went to deposit royalty checks he had picked up in New York, and at the hardware store when he went to buy paint for the spare bedroom's wall. He was given thumbs-up by walkers as he drove around the green, and once he reached Bree's house, he was even congratulated by local men who were helping the fire inspector sift through the ruins.