Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes (19 page)

Joe leaned back, his hands braced behind him. “I take back what I said about your dog havin’ potential.”

“So what were you talkin’ about earlier?”

“Your dog.”

I turned to him and raised my eyebrows. “I’m experiencin’ déjà vu.”

“Why did you tell your dog you’d be leavin’ in five days?”

We sat in silence for a few moments while I rubbed Muffy behind her ears.

“Where are you going, Rose? I thought you weren’t supposed to leave the county.”

“Who said I was leavin’ the county? Last time I checked, county lockup was in Fenton County.”

Joe sat up. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“The police think I staged the break-in to take the focus of Momma’s murder off of me. My attorney expects them to arrest me by next week.” It was all true, even if it wasn’t what the five days meant. “But if you went to the police and told them you saw someone, it might get me off the hook.” And give me one less thing to worry about.

Joe leaned his elbows on his knees, grasping his head in his hands. Then he let loose a string of obscenities. “I can’t.” His head still hung between his arms, muffling his words.

It didn't matter, the meaning was clear enough to pierce my heart. I got up and started to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist. I stood there, neither one of us saying anything. I kept waiting for him to say he changed his mind or let me go, but he did neither. He couldn't have it both ways.

“I thought you were my friend, Joe.” Tears burned my eyes and made my words scratchy. “You’re just going to sit here and let them arrest me.”

“Why didn’t you tell them about me?” He sounded like he was in pain.

“Because you asked me not to.”

He looked up, his eyes full of guilt and anguish. “Why didn’t you tell them anyway?”

“Because I’m gonna leave it up to you and hope you pick me over your silly pride.” He didn’t say anything, his face begging my forgiveness and I knew I lost again. I always lost. Why did I think it would ever turn out differently?

“Stupid me.” I jerked my arm away and picked up Muffy’s belt.

“Go home, Joe. You just keep hurtin’ me and I keep lettin’ you. Please, just go home.” I started crying and I didn't care, I had no pride left. I’d left that behind the minute I let him kiss me after finding out about Hilary.

But Joe didn't get up. He sat there in the grass having the nerve to look all tortured and angsty when
I
was the one about to get arrested.

When I settled into bed that night, I told Muffy it was her job to protect me if someone broke in again. It was then, as I drifted off to sleep, that I realized I’d never told Joe I wasn’t allowed to leave the county.

Chapter Thirteen

Early the next day, I vowed I was done with Joe McAllister. If I didn't know I was going to die in four days, I might tell the police anyway. But this way I could die and let Joe suffer in his own guilt. He could spend the rest of his life wishing he’d done the right thing.

But I began to wonder if he’d feel guilty at all. How did he know I couldn’t leave the county? Why wouldn’t he go to the police? The night of Momma’s murder, why did he tell me he was “just the neighbor” as though he could actually be something more? What if Joe McAllister, the man who helped me paint my living room, who gave me my first kiss and made me laugh until I cried, played a part in Momma’s murder? What if he was the intruder who broke into my house?

It seemed inconceivable. But there was no refuting he had information I hadn’t given him and that he wouldn't talk to the police even though he knew my arrest was inevitable. Everything pointed to him being involved.

But why would he do all those nice things for me including putting new locks on my door, if he wanted to kill me? I closed my eyes, and sank into the big chair in the living room, remembering Joe’s breath on my neck and his lips on mine. How could the same man want to hurt me?

Muffy began to whine and set her chin on my knees. I opened my eyes and smiled at her forlorn face. I had no idea dogs could look so sad. I rubbed her head, surprised I’d become so attached to her already. “What’s wrong, Muffy?”

She set her paw on my lap, whining.

“Do you need to go outside? I need to get you some dog food. And a leash.” Muffy’s butt made an odd noise and a stink filled the room. I waved my hand, trying to move the smell. “And perhaps some diapers. Whew!”

The cable man arrived at nine, and left an hour later since I only had him put in one line. When I signed the ticket, I mentioned my surprise that he came out the day after I called.

He chuckled. “I’ve never seen that happen. It must be your lucky day.”

My lucky day
. I liked the sound of that.

I'd studied my list while I waited for him to finish. To my amazement, I had checked off nine items already. Of course, there was the empty number twenty-nine to deal with, but I decided not to worry about that one. I’d already had enough new experiences, any of which I could plug in the space.

I needed a plan. I had four days left. To get them all accomplished, I needed to complete five a day. Which five would I do today?

I decided to pick out the items that looked the hardest. Maybe I could do one of those a day. Those were:
the Seven Deadly Sins in one week, ride in a convertible, do more with a man, go to Italy, ride a motorcycle, fly in an airplane, play in the rain
. That was seven and only four days. The sins needed to be spread out anyway. I just needed to make sure I did two a day and I’d be done with time to spare. The two that worried me the most were going to Italy, which seemed out of the question, and play in the rain. What if it didn't rain between now and Sunday?

I decided to worry about those two later. Today, I’d just wing it with the sins. And for the other wishes, it seemed logical to start at the top. Buy some makeup, visit a beauty salon, get a pedicure. The next item: ride in a convertible. How could I do that?

I’d rent one. I got out the phone book and looked up a car rental agency. “I’d like to rent a convertible.”

“How long? A day? A week?”

Shoot, why not a week
? I told him I’d be there within an hour.

When it came time for me to leave, Muffy followed me around, hanging her head and tucking her tail between her legs. “Don’t be doin’ that.” I said, rubbing her head. “I can’t take you with me, but I’ll bring you back a surprise when I come home, okay?”

Muffy seemed unconvinced.

With all the farting she’d done, I decided it would be safer to keep her in the bathroom. Definitely an easier clean up if she made a mess.

I started out the door and saw the wooden box on the kitchen table, where I left it days ago, still in the paper bag. As an afterthought, I grabbed the bag and threw it in the car.

I was ready to see what was inside.

The rental agency was the first stop. I’d never rented a car before, but it proved easy enough, and I left with a white Sebring convertible. I climbed into the front seat and studied the buttons until I figured out how to put the top down. The heat had risen to a nearly intolerable level, the high humidity causing steam to rise from the pavement, but the whole point of having a convertible was to put the top down.

I drove toward downtown and realized why I always saw people who drove convertibles wearing sunglasses. The blinding sun made it difficult to see. Necessity instigated my next stop. Wal-Mart had a multitude of sunglasses on display. After trying on multiple pairs, I finally decided on one with black plastic frames and large, dark lenses.

As I walked toward the pharmacy section, the lingerie department caught my eye. I blushed thinking about Joe seeing me in my nighty. Further down my list
wear a lacy bra and panties
lingered. I forced myself to ignore the utilitarian underwear I usually wore, and focused on the lacy, pretty things.

They were beautiful and came in so many colors and styles. Wickedness took hold of me. Why wear lingerie only one day? Why not every day for the next four days? I picked out white, black, lavender and red, the evilest of all. No one would ever see them, so why not? I took them into the fitting room and tried on the black set first, amazed the woman returning my gaze in the mirror was me. I looked like a Victoria’s Secret model.

I was buying all four.

I’d just have to make sure to wear the white lingerie on Sunday. When they found my body.

For the first time, the seriousness of it hit me. I was going to die. My breath caught in my chest, and I gasped for air, sitting down on the dressing room bench.

I’m going to die
.

I let myself have a good cry, right there in the Walmart fitting room, wearing nothing but my wicked black bra and panties, the price tag poking me in the side. Was this really how I wanted to spend my last four days? Working my way through a list ranging from committing all Seven Deadly Sins to
doing more with a man
? I looked back on the last twenty-four years, all wasted, and stared at my tear-streaked face in the mirror.

Hell, yeah
.

I dug through my purse and found a package of tissues, blew my nose, and wiped away my tears.
Enough. You’ve had your cry, you were owed one. But now you’re done
. I still had items on my list to do today.

After I bought makeup and a collar and food for Muffy, I headed to the beauty salon. I talked to a stylist and since Aunt Bessie had already cut my hair, we decided I should get highlights, pretty caramel-colored ones that blended in with my dark brown hair. And a manicure to go with the pedicure.

When I left a few hours later, I wondered why I never did these things before. Why I waited until the last days of my life to feel pampered and beautiful. People tell themselves there’s plenty of time to do it all, but most of the time they never see death coming. I sat in the front seat of my rented convertible thinking of all the living I had left to do.

I wasn't ready to go home yet.

I put the top back down, slid on my sunglasses, and headed for the highway, driving seventy miles an hour, the wind blowing through my hair. I never felt so free and alive. This was how I wanted to remember living, if you remembered anything after you were dead. I filed it away in a spot in my mind, a scrapbook of memories to take to the afterlife.

Careful not to cross the county line, I turned around at the exit before I reached the edge. I sure didn’t want to spend my last days in jail.

On my way home, I remembered the wooden box in the trunk. I didn’t know how to go about opening it, so I took it into the hardware store and asked a clerk. He suggested cutting it with bolt cutters. He set the box on a counter and pulled out the biggest pair of scissors I had ever seen. With a couple of quick snips, he cut both links of the padlock. “Who’s Dora?” He asked, pulling the lock free.

“Hopefully, I’m about to find out.”

I drove to Violet’s house. It seemed fitting we open it together.

“What are you doin’ here?” She asked, surprised to see me at three o’clock in the afternoon. My new highlights and flashy convertible must have thrown her off, too. I supposed it looked like I was going through a midlife crisis. An end-of-life crisis was more like it.

“I got the lock cut off the box. I thought you might want to help me open it.” I carried it into the kitchen and set it on the island. We both sat on stools staring at it as if we expected the lid to pop open on its own.

“I’m scared to find out what’s inside.” I finally admitted.

“I know. Me, too.”

“But we’ve got to find out sometime, right?” So I grabbed the lid in both hands and flipped it open.

At least nothing flew out.

I pulled it closer and Violet and I both looked inside. A diamond engagement ring lay on top of a stack of papers. Lifting it out, I twisted the ring in the light, watching it sparkle.

“Whose is that?” Violet asked in awe. “I never saw Momma wear anythin’ like that.”

“I don’t know…” my voice trailed off as I studied it. It was a big diamond, about a half-carat, with tiny diamonds surrounding it on a white gold band. “It’s beautiful.” I placed it on my right ring finger. It fit perfectly. The sparkly stone was so mesmerizing, I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

Violet shook her head. “I can’t believe Momma gave you something like that.”

“Neither can I.” I couldn’t even imagine where she would have gotten it.

“Well, what else is in there?” Violet sounded excited, her giddiness infectious.

I pulled out the next item, what appeared to be an old savings account passbook. I opened the cover and read the inside page. “Dora Middleton.” I turned to Violet. “I guess we found out who Dora is.”

“Well, not really. We found her saving account book, but I don't remember any Middletons in our family, and look,” she pointed to the address below her name. “She lived in Shreveport. I don’t recall any family living in Shreveport.”

“Shreveport’s not very far, Violet. That doesn’t mean anything.” But she was right. I didn’t remember any of our family living in Louisiana, either. I opened the book and checked the balance. I felt like I was snooping in someone else’s business, but reminded myself it belonged to me now. “Violet, there’s twenty thousand dollars in there.”