Authors: Fern Michaels
What You Wish For (14 page)
The dogs looked at one another before Max trotted into the living room for his blanket. He tugged and dragged it until he had it where he wanted it, over Helen's shoulders. He listened to Lucie whimper and then stretched out alongside Helen, his front paw on Lucie's back, his eyes glued to the locked doorâHelen's self-appointed protector.
13
Helen woke, aware of an enormous weight on her body. She struggled to take a deep breath. What was wrong with her? Was she having a heart attack? Where was she? She tried to move, the heavy weight shifting slightly. Max! “Move, baby. It's okay, Lucie,” she whispered. She rolled over, the two dogs watching her expectantly. Moonlight shone through the part in the draperies. That had to mean it was still night. The luminous hands on her watch glowed in the semidarkness: 3:10. She needed to get up, take a hot shower to ease the ache in her bones. “To what end?” she mumbled. Her eyes felt like hot coals as she staggered into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Her reflection in the mirror made her gasp.
Wrapped in a thick robe, Helen padded out to the kitchen, where she made fresh coffee. Behind her, the computer waited. Boots was waiting. The board members were waiting for her response. What should she say? Even if she found the right words, how could she simply type them in such an impersonal way? Wasn't it Boots who said you can do whatever you set your mind to doing? All she had to do was get a mind-set and run with it. So easy to say, so very hard to do.
Sensing Helen's strange behavior, Lucie tugged at the hem of Helen's robe. She bent down to pick Lucie up. Max pawed Helen's shoulder. “C'mon, we'll sit on the couch until the coffee is ready. I can't pick you up, Max. You're too heavy.” Lucie continued to whimper as Helen curled into the corner of the couch, Max at her side, Lucie in her lap. The Lab nuzzled her open palm, an indication she was to scratch behind his ears. “I don't know what to do.” Lucie bellied off Helen's lap to snuggle against Max. “I guess that's my answer. Okay, guys, coffee for me, treats for you. It's okay. It really is. We'll make this work for all of us. I don't know how, but we will.”
This time there was no hesitation when Helen sat down in front of the computer. She turned it on, clicked on her e-mail and started typing her response to Boots's last e-mail.
Dear Boots,
I'm glad you are okay. I was worried about you. At first I didn't know what to think. At some point I thought perhaps you were testing me. I realized rather quickly what a stupid thought that was. I felt incredibly alone and vulnerable when I didn't hear from you for so long. Three weeks is a very long time to me. I became so fearful it was hard to sleep. I think it is unforgivable what you put me through these past weeks, unintentional or not. In your vast organization there must have been one person who could have sent me an e-mail telling me things were all right. After weeks of careful thought, I came to the realization that I cannot accept your explanation.
There are no words for me to tell you how appreciative I am for everything that was done for me by all of your people. I stuck to my bargain, obeyed all the rules. When I did fail, it was because there was no support left for me to draw upon. I suppose that makes me a weak person. The very reason you had to help me in the first place. I'm not that same weak person any longer, thanks to you and all the people who give so generously of their time and themselves. I may be a little frightened but I am young and I am healthy. I am not afraid to work hard. There are only two things I am afraid of. One, that something will happen to my pet. Two, that I forget who I am and why I was in this program in the first place. I can't blame anyone for my weakness, only myself.
Yes, I've fallen in love. That alone is a miracle in my eyes. Sam is a kind, gentle man and he cares deeply for me and my dog. I feel the same way about him and his dog. If this is about trust and truth, then yes, I do deserve a second chance. However, I'm going to turn it down. I realize you didn't ask me to give up the man I've fallen in love with. It's what you meant, though. He understands the situation. I think he would protect me with his life if he had to. My pet as well. I would do the same for him if the situation were reversed.
Last of all, Boots, I cannot separate the animals. They have become attached to one another, and it is beautiful to see. I could never be the one to rip them apart. I don't expect you or your board members to understand such feelings. It's the way it is. I cannot and will not change how I feel in this regard.
I will return the business monies advanced to me as soon as you tell me where to forward the check. If you care to give me a tally of all the monies expended on my behalf, I will pay them off also. It will take some time, but I will honor my obligations.
I'm sorry, Boots, that we aren't going to be able to meet in person. I guess some things are just not meant to be.
I don't know if I have the right to ask this or not, but I won't know if I don't ask. Will you please express my thanks to Isabel Tyger? Tell her I will be forever grateful that she saved my life and my dog's life as well. I talk to Lucie all the time and tell her what a wonderful lady Miss Tyger must be. I think she actually understands. I regret that I failed you, Boots. However, I didn't fail myself or my pet. That's the bottom line for me.
I'm going to have this on-line service canceled. It's an added expense I will no longer be able to afford. If you should ever want to reach me, do it through my web site. Thank you again for everything.
TTLS and TTLS2.
Helen bit down on her lower lip as she turned off her computer. Another chapter of her life closed. She wished she knew what the future held for her. And for Sam. Sam was now built into the equation called her life. Then again, maybe it was better that she didn't know what the future held. One day at a time, Helen, she told herself. Just take it one day at a time.
Helen looked down at the dogs lying at her feet. “It was the right thing to do. I didn't really have any other options. We'll be okay. I'll take care of us. I promise. I think we should all go to bed now. Come on, it's late, and Sam's coming for breakfast. Things might look brighter in the morning. I seriously doubt it, but it's worth thinking about,” Helen said wearily as she made her way down the short hall that led to her bedroom.
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Three thousand miles away in California, Isabel Tyger prowled the long hallway, her walker making thumping sounds as she stomped it down on the thick carpeting. Another sleepless night. She felt totally useless when she gingerly lowered her bulk into the comfortable chair behind her desk. She strained to see out the library window to see if Maggie Eldridge's car was parked-anywhere near the garage. She took a moment to wonder what kind of personal life her nurse had. She was no prude, and she pretty much had a live-and-let-live attitude, but it was four o'clock in the morning, and her nurse wasn't home. To her, giving someone the night off meant that person should be back by midnight. Were things done differently these days? Maybe she should have been a little more specific where the nurse's duties were concerned. “At least she's out from under my feet,” she muttered when the computer came to life. She wished she knew what Helen Ward thought of her e-mail. Would she respond immediately or was she going to take time to think about it? She blinked when she saw her e-mail envelope flashing. Helen?
Isabel read the e-mail three times before her fist shot in the air. “Yessss,” she chortled. A moment later the phone was in her hand. “Wake up, Gerry. My bird told me to kiss off. Isn't that what young people say today? I heard that expression on one of those soap operas when I was in that damn hospital. Told you she had some spunk. I knew I was right about her. She plans to leave the program, so we'll let her think she is, but we'll stay on top of things. She said she won't separate the dogs. Now, isn't that something? God, Gerry, I just love it when I'm right. Why aren't you saying anything? You weren't sleeping, so don't pretend you were. Say something.”
“I love it when you're right, too, Izzie. Listen, will you marry me?”
“We don't have time for marriage, Gerry. Not right now. Maybe later. Besides, we have too much to do. I'm not saying we'll spoil our lives if we get married, but things will change. I've always loved you. I believe you when you say you've always loved me. Why should a piece of paper come between us? The answer is no.”
“One of these days I'm going to stop asking. You'd have someone to play checkers with at four in the morning if we got married.”
“The nurse isn't back yet, Gerry. I gave her the night off. When you give someone the night off, doesn't it mean they have to be home by midnight?”
“That would be my thinking. These young kids today don't think anything of staying out all night, coming home for breakfast, and then going to work. If I did that, it would kill me.”
“That's because we're old, Gerry. Today I feel very old. I don't feel good either.”
“What does that mean, Izzie?” Gerry asked, alarm sounding in his voice.
“It means I don't feel like myself. I think it's all that medicine they have me on. I'm not taking it anymore.”
“Then don't take it.” From long years of friendship, Gerry knew the minute he agreed to something, Isabel would do just the opposite.
“Why don't you come over for breakfast, Gerry?”
“Okay. Do you mind if I go back to bed now?”
“Don't you want to talk to me?”
“About what, Izzie?”
“About you know who. Isn't it remarkable what she's doing?”
“No. It's damn stupid.”
“She doesn't think she's being stupid. She thinks she's taking control of her life. She's going to be a success no matter what we do or say. She's got grit and spunk. I know she's got to be scared out of her wits. She's right, though, she isn't that same weak person she was when she came to you that night. She's the one who used the term
weak
, not me.”
weak
, not me.”
“How do you like the word reckless, Isabel?” Gerry demanded.
Isabel blinked. Gerry only used her birth name when he was upset with her.
“I don't like it at all,
Gerald.”
Gerald.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don't know. I need to think about it.”
“Fine. Now, can I go back to bed?”
“Go ahead, sleep your life away,” Isabel snapped as she broke the connection.
Isabel did her best to curl into the corner of the old comfortable chair she was sitting in. Each time Gerry asked her to marry him she went through the same turmoil. “Sometimes I wish I had married him. We might have had children, a big family, a loving family,” she muttered. It was possible. Gerry saw past what she considered her ugliness and her gimpy leg. Oh, no, she couldn't let go of the past. Her father and his wicked tongue had seen to that. All the cruel things he'd ever said to her came flooding back: Horse-faced, buck-toothed, scraggly, homely as a mud fence. And those were the kindest things he'd said. The ugly things he'd said were only allowed to be thought of in total darkness so no one could see her shame, not even herself. Feeling it, living it was bad enough. Seeing it would push her over the edge. Was his hatred of her due to that awful day when she'd been born or when she screamed,
“When I'm old enough I'm going to kill you for what you did!”
She'd meant it, too. She almost wished she'd followed through.
“When I'm old enough I'm going to kill you for what you did!”
She'd meant it, too. She almost wished she'd followed through.
For a long time she'd thought Gerry felt sorry for her, and that's why he kept proposing. Then she'd moved on to thinking he was grateful for her helping hand in putting him through college and setting him up at his clinic. Then, when her father lay dying and refused to have her in his room, she knew the very sight of her offended him; therefore, she must offend other people as well. Even Gerry and Artie, although they said it wasn't true. When her inheritance was cut off, she was suicidal. They were there for her every minute of the day and night. Friendship. Friendship wasn't love in her opinion. “You are one screwed-up old broad, Isabel Tyger,” she mumbled.
Headlights flashed on the study wall. Isabel quickly switched off the light and struggled to her feet. She thumped her way down the hall to her room and got into bed.
She waited.
The house was quiet. Almost too quiet. Since the renovations, nothing creaked or groaned. Thick padding and deep carpeting muffled everything.
Fifteen minutes passed and her door, which she'd left ajar, didn't move. By craning her neck Isabel was able to look out her bedroom window in the direction of the L-shaped wing where her study was located when she noticed the light go on. She frowned. What was the nurse doing in her study? At 4:45 in the morning, did she have reason to believe her patient would be on the computer? Was it possible she was searching for a book? After an all-night date, what kind of person would want to read a book? Was she going through her desk, and, if so, what was she looking for? Was she spying on her?
Isabel kept her eye on her bedroom window, the large digital clock with the two-inch red numerals directly in her line of vision. It was 5:25 when the study light was turned off. Isabel rolled on her side to better see the door. There was just enough light from the small night-light in the socket to the left of the door. The fine hairs on the back of her neck twitched. When the door finally moved, she closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She smelled Maggie's perfume and something else. Cigarette smoke? Pipe tobacco. Artie smoked a pipe, so she was familiar with the scent of good tobacco. What
was
she doing in her office? Satisfied, the nurse adjusted the door to its original position.
was
she doing in her office? Satisfied, the nurse adjusted the door to its original position.
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