Three Wishes (35 page)

She didn't want me sending the next picture. She says she looks fat. I say she looks pregnant and beautiful. She's just starting her sixth month. She's gained ten pounds and is feeling great. We love listening to the baby's heartbeat. The doctor is afraid we'll start making extra appointments just to use his stethoscope, and I don't rule it out. That heartbeat is something else. So's the baby's movement. We can actually see it now, a definite ripple. I guess after six kids you got pretty used to that, but this is my first.

You'll be pleased to know that I'm getting back to practicing law. A local lawyer and I are working together. It's an apprenticeship for me, since I'm not a member of the Vermont Bar. I've applied for that, though, and hope to be sworn in in another few months.

Practicing here is different from practicing in New York. The cases aren't blockbuster ones, but they deal with real people and real problems. In that sense, they're more rewarding. Also, practicing here allows for a gentler lifestyle. I'm working out of an office at home, which is a five-minute drive from my mentor's office in town. And I'm really only working part time, so that I can spend the rest of the time with Bree. I want to be involved in raising the baby. It'll work this way.

When I finally unpacked the cartons that were piled in my office, I found the family photographs that I framed when I first started to practice. Among them was one of all of us taken at my high school graduation. Do you remember it? We were on the front porch getting ready to leave, and Minna came from next door to take the picture so Mom could be in it, too. It's one of the few of all of us. I have it on my desk

I hope you're well. I'll write again soon.

Love, Tom

Dear Alice,
Bree wrote in mid-September.

Thank you so, so, so much for sending the picture of little Jimmy. He is precious. I see you in him, and even a little of Tom. Tom stood looking at the picture for the longest time. He still keeps picking it up. So you know how much it means to him that you sent it.

Only three and a half months of waiting left for us. I go back and forth between being so impatient I can't sit still and being terrified. I don't tell Tom about the terrified part. It's silly, isn't it? I mean, doctors have childbirth down pat. What could go wrong? We had amniocentesis done, so we know that the baby's healthy, but we didn't ask for the sex. We want that to be a surprise. It's kind of neat that our kids will be less than a year apart, don't you think?

We've been working to get the baby's room ready. Tom sanded and lacquered the floor. He painted the ceiling white and the walls yellow. I made a clown border with stencils using navy blue, white, and red, so it'll be good for a boy or a girl. Believe it or not, Tom stood at the bottom of the ladder the whole time I was painting it. He was afraid I'd fall.

We've also started buying a few things. Thank you for the recommendation on the carriage. We bought it, and a crib. The crib is white. I start crying every time I look at it.

I know Tom has asked you himself, but I would love it, too, if you would come visit. I was an only child. The idea of having a sister-in-law is wonderful. We have a sleep sofa in the third bedroom, and a crib for Jimmy. I know that your father wouldn't like the idea of your coming, but if there's any way you can get around that, please consider it. It would mean a lot to me to meet you before our baby is born. It would mean a lot to Tom, too. Say the word, and he'll send tickets. You could fly into Burlington or Boston. We'll meet you in either place. Just let us know.

The trees are starting to turn. It's just beautiful up here. Please come.

Love, Bree

P.S. My stretched stomach itches something fierce. Any suggestions?

Dear Nathan,
Tom wrote in early October.

/
enjoy getting your little notes. Being out of the mainstream, I didn't know that my favorite publisher was fired, much less that the publishing house was bought. I didn't know that Ben Harps's book hit the lists, either. I'm pleased for him and pleased for you. Maybe someone like Ben can get you to stop E-mailing me. He's young and hot. If you haven't sold him to Hollywood yet, you will. His stuff is good.

I know I told you I'd think about writing again, and I have. But it isn't going to happen, Nathan, not now, maybe not ever. Drop all the hints you want, but you won't make me jealous of Ben or anyone else.

I've gone back to practicing law. Yes, up here. Don't be so startled. It's like going back to my roots. Very satisfying. Bree is expecting a baby in December, so there's plenty to keep me busy. I'm happier than I've ever been. Be happy for me.

Yours, Tom

Dear Dad,
Tom wrote in mid-October.

Bree and I spent last weekend in Nantucket. These pictures are from there. The one of the two of us was taken by the owner of the bed-and-breakfast where we stayed. It was a charming place, small and quiet on a private way that led to the beach. We spent hours walking there and browsing through the shops in town. Bree had never been there. Her excitement made it like the first time for me, too.

A funny thing happened. When we stopped in at a little sandwich place, I was recognized by a woman who interviewed me several years back for
Vanity Fair.
She came right up and started asking questions. Two years ago, I would have answered. This time, I refused. I may have offended her, but I don't care. I'm done with that life. All I could think was that she was intruding on my time with my wife.

Bree is wonderful. She's starting to look very pregnant and has trouble keeping going endlessly the way she used to, but she doesn't complain. She's a trouper
—
the warmest, most interesting and loving woman I've ever met. Based on past performance, I don't deserve her. I'm trying to change that.

We had cause to celebrate in Nantucket. It was the first anniversary of the accident that brought us together. It scares me to think how close I came to losing her. Had she died that night, I never would have known this kind of love. Okay, if I hadn't known it, I wouldn't have missed it, but boy, it makes me think.

If you felt for Mom what I feel for Bree, I can understand why you were so hurt by what I did. If a child of mine ever did that to Bree, I would be angry, too. All I can say is that I didn't know, and that I'm sorry.

Enclosed is a small painting done by one of the local artists on the island. The view of the dunes is one that we saw each day. I hope you can get a feel for it through the oils.

Love, Tom

P.S. We're out of double digits. Only nine weeks until the baby is due.

With eight weeks to go, Bree was sitting in the breakfast room, feeling lazy and replete in the morning sun, when the phone rang. Setting the newspaper aside, she rose to get it.

“Hello?”

“Bree?” The voice was tentative, new. “This is Alice.”

Bree caught her breath. “Alice.” There was only one person with that name. “Alice,” she breathed, half relieved, half awed. “How
are
you?”

“Feeling like a traitor, but otherwise fine. I got my editor to send me to a seminar in Boston. I just landed.”

“In
Boston?”
Bree's voice went higher. “Tom will be
so
excited!
Can we see you? Will you come here? Where can we pick you up? How long do you have?”

“Three days. I have the baby with me.”

“Oh my God! Tom'll
die
when he finds out. He just left to meet with his law partner in town. I'll call him there. We can be on our way in less than an hour. You should have called before you left. We'd have been there to meet you.”

“I didn't know if I'd have the courage to call. I'm not sure I should be doing this.”

“Of course you should.”

“My father wouldn't be pleased.”

“You're not making
him
come.”

“This is pretty last-minute.”

“Are you kidding? Tom's been dreaming of this for
months.”
So had Bree, more so of late. “Will you come back here with us?”

“If it's no trouble.”

“None. Where should we meet you?”

 

They arranged to meet at the downtown hotel where the seminar was being held. While Tom and Bree were en route, Alice attended two lectures. When they arrived, she was sitting in the lobby, as petite as Bree had pictured her, with Tom's shiny brown hair and gray eyes. The baby was a sleeping wad strapped to her front.

Bree was entranced by the look on Tom's face when he first saw her. It combined longing and love with intense relief. He stopped just inside the revolving door. Alice rose. She didn't come toward them, but her un-sureness ended his. He crossed the space in seconds, wrapped her in his arms, baby and all, and held them both for a long, silent time.

 

The forty-eight hours that they had together couldn't have been more perfect. As Boston fell behind mile by mile, so did the hard feelings that had kept them apart. By the time they reached Panama, all awkwardness was gone. The town was a pocket that the past couldn't touch.

Tom wanted to show Alice the town green, the church where he and Bree had been married, the office above the bank. Bree wanted to show her the town hall, where their wedding reception had been held, the general store, and the diner. Alice wanted to see the bungalow, the bench by the brook, the pumpkin field where the Labor Day barbecue had taken place.

They saw it all. The weather was perfect, the foliage vivid even a week past its peak. Townsfolk waved as they drove by and approached when they stopped. Alice's enthusiasm matched Tom's pride. Both matched Bree's happiness. She couldn't even be envious of Tom's intimate ease with his sister, because Alice was just as easy with her. In no time at all, she felt she had known Alice forever.

They spent time at the bungalow and time at the diner. Tom baby-sat Jimmy while Bree took Alice to meet Julia, and when they should have returned, they traded grins instead and went to Verity's cottage in the woods.

Alice was spirited and fun. Bree adored her.

And the baby? What could Bree say? He was smiley and sweet, wanting nothing more than dry diapers, mother's milk, and the occasional bit of attention. Tom gave him far more than that, uncle and nephew a sight to behold. If Bree had even the tiniest lingering doubt about having risked a third wish on their own child, it was dispelled by the sight of Tom stretched out on the floor, watching in fascination while the baby played inches away.

All too quickly, Alice's time in Panama ended. With Boston's approach, mile by mile, came threads of sadness.

“Will you tell Dad you saw us?” Tom asked.

“Not yet. But he isn't indifferent. He reads your letters, reads them more than once. And he studies the pictures.”

“Will he talk if I call?”

“I don't know. He visits the cemetery twice a week. That's when he comes home all stoic and hard. I'll work on him, Tom. I can't promise anything more than that.” She hugged him, then opened her arms to Bree with a what-can-I-say expression.

Bree held her tight. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You've made him so happy by coming. Him
and
me.” Alice would be a wonderful aunt to her child. Bree felt a profound sense of relief knowing that Tom and the baby would have family, should anything happen to her.

 

By the end of October, Bree stopped waitressing. She went to the diner every day, but what work she did was either by computer or by phone. Before and after, she sat talking with friends.

“Only two months left,” Jane said. They sat side by side at the counter, having late-morning muffins and tea. “Can you stand it?”

“Barely.”

“You look good.”

“I feel good.” She truly did—strong, energetic, and happy, so happy sometimes that she burst into tears. Waking up beside Tom each day was a dream, all the more so waking up
pregnant
beside him each day. Julia had been right about the joy of pregnancy, though Bree figured the father-to-be made the difference. Tom loved everything about her pregnant body. Rarely did a night pass when he didn't remove her nightgown to run his hands, ever so slowly, over the mound of her belly. He loved the fullness of her breasts, loved the bump of her navel and the vertical line beneath it. He loved putting his ear to the baby and listening, and she loved pushing her hands into his hair or rubbing his bare shoulders and watching them, father and child.

If only there weren't that fear. It came and went, a scary little shred. She was seeing the doctor twice a month now. He swore all was just as it should be. The baby was bigger and more active. But December neared.

“I want everything to go well,” she told Jane.

“What's not to go well?”

She fiddled with the crumbs on her plate. “Remember I told you about the three wishes?”

Jane nodded.

“I think this was one.”

“The
baby?”

“After the accident, the doctor told me I couldn't have kids.”

“Oh, Bree. You didn't tell me that.”

“I didn't tell anyone. I didn't want to think about it. I told Tom before we got married. He was furious when I told him I wished for a baby.”

“Why? What better thing to wish for?”

“It might have been the third wish.” When the look on Jane's face said she still didn't get it, Bree added, “There's a part of me that thinks I was put back on earth for Tom and the wishes, and that once the third one is granted, I'll die.”