What You Wish For (19 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: What You Wish For
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Unless . . .
Helen's arm snaked out to reach for the phone on the nightstand. She dialed a number she knew she would never forget as long as she lived. She waited, hardly daring to breathe, for someone to pick up the phone. The voice was bright and cheerful. “This is Mona, how can I help you today?”
“Mona, this is . . . this is Nancy Baker. My husband found me. Right now he is sitting outside my house in a silver car. I think it's a Nissan. There are two strange men ringing my doorbell. They came to my shop earlier today. I didn't open the door. I just left and came home. I know there is a shelter here somewhere. Can someone come and get me? Please, I need your help.”
“Give me your number, Nancy. I'll call you back in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.” She spoke slowly, enunciating each number carefully. She sat back to wait. After two minutes, the men at the front door left. Five minutes later, she heard a car drive away. But when she looked outside, Daniel was still there. Precisely fifteen minutes after Mona had hung up, the phone rang.
“Listen to me carefully, Nancy. This is what I want you to do....”
An hour passed and then another hour. It was two-thirty when Helen heard the sound of a police siren on the street. She peeked through the blind to see a police officer walk up to the silvery car. Ten minutes later the police cruiser escorted Daniel down the road, his lights still flashing, the siren silent.
“Come on, Max. I have to put you in Sam's room. God, I don't want to leave you, but I can't take you with me. If I could, I would. I'll find my way back here someday. I promise. I'll bring Lucie back. I don't know when that will be. Damn it, I can't leave you. You're part of my life, too. Sam will just have to understand. Come on, you can come with us. Hurry. Get your blanket, Max. Good boy,” she said, stuffing it in the nylon bag. “Into the garage. Quick now. Someone is picking us up. You need to be quiet and you need to be good.”
Forgive me, Sam. I don't know what else to do. You know I'll take good care of Max.
Lucie whimpered and clung to her mistress.
 
Helen paced, the two dogs curled next to each other at the side of the bed. They watched her. From time to time she stooped down to pat them on the head. She muttered to herself, or was it to the dogs? She didn't know and didn't care. She was safe. The dogs were safe. Where was Daniel? Did the police arrest him? What a stupid thought. All he was doing was sitting in his car. Daniel could charm the wings off a butterfly if he wanted to. And the two men, where were they? More to the point, were they the attorneys they pretended to be? Did the people from the shelter take care of them, too?
Helen sat down when her legs threatened to give out on her. The dogs crawled on their bellies to lie next to her. “It's almost the same as the other shelter, Lucie. Remember how safe we felt when we were there? I don't know if we're in or out of this program. I don't know if we can stay or not. For now this is the best for all of us. Later will take care of itself.”
She wanted to cry, to yell and scream. In short, she wanted to take a page out of Daniel's book and act out her rage. Thinking about it was one thing, doing it like Daniel did was something else entirely.
Helen sipped at the lukewarm herbal tea as she looked around the cozy room. The gas fireplace had been turned on earlier by the woman who escorted her up the steps. Unlike the bright, airy room she'd had in California, this one was cozy and welcoming, a winter room with draperies and deep carpeting. Two Sherpa dog beds, one large, one small were in front of the fireplace. A safe haven.
The house, what she'd seen of it on her arrival, was laid out much the way the one in California was. She'd asked if there was a walled garden and was told yes but it wasn't used in the winter months. She would, however, be allowed to walk the dogs outdoors. She'd seen the large sunroom that ran the length of the walled garden where the guests gathered for their counseling sessions. There was a large fieldstone fireplace that looked like it burned real wood at the far end of the room. She wished she could go there now, but she had to wait to be processed.
Helen dozed in the comfortable rocker. When the timid-sounding knock on the door came, she jumped up from the chair, her heart racing. Max, his teeth bared, waited for her command. “Easy, big guy. Easy. It's okay. Come in,” she called.
She was a mousy little woman whose face bore the scars of her ordeal. She reminded Helen of a frightened little bird as she eyed the dogs warily. If she weighed eighty pounds, it was a lot. She stumbled once and apologized as she righted herself. “I'm not totally healed yet,” she murmured.
Helen felt the urge to cry all over again. “I remember what that was like. For a long time I didn't think I would ever heal. I did.”
“Then what are you doing back here?” the woman asked.
“My husband found me.”
“Oh.”
“What am I supposed to do now?” Helen asked.
“Julia sent me to fetch you. Julia runs this shelter. We're having tea in the sunroom. We talk, we unload, we vent. If you were here before, then you know how it works. Do you want to walk the dogs? I used to have a cat.”
“Used to? Didn't you bring it with you?”
The woman's eyes filled with tears. “I couldn't bring a dead cat. I wanted to. Actually, I tried to but . . . he . . . what he did was . . . he threw her through the living-room window. While he was doing that I ran out the kitchen door.”
“Good for you! What's your name?”
“I don't have one yet. I've only been here four days. To you, I'm number Eight. You'll be number Nine.” She pointed to the two dogs, and said, “Nine-A and -B.”
A chill ran up Helen's arms. An omen?
“We're having Irish stew for dinner. We? re baking bread and apple pie. The food here is so good. That . . . that person I used to live with drank up all our money. Most times there wasn't much left for food.”
And there but for the grace of God go I,
Helen thought.
“I'm ready,” Helen said.
“No, you aren't,” the woman snapped. “Those are just words. None of us are ever ready. It doesn't work that way.”
“What I meant was, I'm ready to go downstairs.”
“Oh.”
Both dogs hugged Helen's legs as they made their way down the hallway to the staircase leading to the first floor.
In the foyer, Helen eyed the stout front door that she knew held steel bars between the layers of mahogany. She risked a glance at the windows and noted the mesh grills. Safety came in many different ways.
The air was fragrant with baking bread and Irish stew cooking in the kitchen. She realized how hungry she was. What was even more amazing to her was that she could even think about food at this particular time.
Helen held back for a minute, listening to what sounded like normal conversation within a small group of women. She heard the words
Thanksgiving
and
pumpkins.
She heard someone say the temperature dropped twenty degrees in the past few hours. She did her best to smile at the introductions, but received none in return. She hadn't smiled that first time either. “I'm going to take my dogs outside for a bit if that's all right with you.”
“Put your jacket on. It got very cold,” the woman named Julia said.
Helen nodded. Julia was so like Mona it was incredible. She knew when she returned to the sunroom Julia would have told the women what she wanted them to know about her. Second visits were rare. The women would probably view her return visit as scary and would question the shelter's safety rules.
The dogs were jittery, walking around the yard sniffing and growling. They didn't run; nor did they tussle with one another. They kept turning to look at her to make sure she hadn't deserted them. She spoke quietly and soothingly. “This is just for now. We aren't going to stay here forever. It's only for a little while. We can handle it. We're together. You have your blanket, Max, and Lucie has her mouse, and I have both of you. I'll take care of you. I promise. It's time to go in. They're waiting for us.” The dogs obediently followed her into the house and sat down next to Helen's chair, their eyes alert, their tails tucked between their back legs.
Helen listened as the women talked. She'd heard it all before. She'd
lived
it. Her mind wandered to thoughts of Sam. How was he? What was he doing? Was he home? Did he even know that she'd left? She wished now that she hadn't left the beeper behind on the dresser. Or had she? Had she thrown it in the nylon bag at the last second? She simply couldn't remember. What difference did it make anyway since she had no telephone access here at the shelter?
As the discussion droned on, Helen stroked Max's head as she half listened to the women seated around her. For some reason she felt outside the group this time around. She felt like she didn't belong, that somehow she'd cheated. She blurted out the words before she realized she'd said them aloud. The women stared at her, their faces blank.
“We never turn anyone away. We're here to help each of you.”
The words tumbled out faster than bullets. “I fell in love. That's what I did wrong. He's a fine man, a wonderful, caring person. At first I thought I wasn't good enough for him. But I grew as a person during those months. I realized my life was going to be whatever I made of it. You gave me my start on this new life. Still, it was and is a lie. I tried to explain that to my counselor, but somehow things went wrong. She had some personal problems and left me to flounder. At least that's what I thought at the time. I don't want to be a fictitious person. I have every right to be the person I was born to be. Everyone said . . . the person . . . that person . . . would never find me. In my heart and in my mind I wanted to believe that. I needed to believe it, but there was always one small part of me that knew somehow, some way, he would find me. And he did. That's why I'm here. If it was just me and my dog, I wouldn't have asked to come back. I'm here because I'm afraid for the life of the man I fell in love with. I was doing just fine. I started my own little business that was earning me a living. I had love and compassion for the first time in my life. I didn't want to lose that. I was so happy. I'd finally become the person I always wanted to be. All my dreams that I'd put on hold were working out. Now that's all gone. You said he wouldn't find me. You promised me safety. And now I'm sitting here asking where it all went wrong. Was it me? Was it him? Was it you? I need to know what went wrong. I need to know, so I can get my life back. I don't want to be here. I don't want to stay here. All I want is my life. I don't want to be Nancy Baker. I hate Nancy Baker. I want to be Helen Stanley. Listen to me, everyone. That's my name. Helen Stanley.”
“That's enough, Miss Baker,” Julia said, her hands fluttering in the air. “Don't say any more.”
“No, it isn't enough. I played by the rules until you people let me flounder. I had nowhere else to turn, so I told that wonderful man I fell in love with the truth. You know what else. I'm not sorry. I'd do it all over again. And the next time you promise your . . . whatever we are, that they will always be in touch, that they're only a click away on the computer, you damn well better mean it. All that stuff you fed me the first time was just a bunch of words. I kept my end of the bargain. You didn't. Now, if you want me to leave, I'll leave, but I will need some kind of vehicle.”
“Drink some tea, Miss Baker,” Julia said.
“I don't want any damn tea. I want some answers. I want them now. I deserve to know what is going on with my life. I have these two animals to take care of. I have strange men with briefcases knocking on my door. That sadistic bastard I was married to was sitting outside my door. I'm not even divorced. I want to be divorced. I want this man locked up. I want to press charges. I want my day in court. I want my goddamn name back. I can't get my name back because you people had Helen Ward declared dead.
Dead!
I'm not dead. I'm sitting here in front of you. I'm talking to you.”
At some unseen signal, the women got up and left the room. Helen leaned back in her chair, her eyes burning with unshed, angry tears.
“Drink your tea, Miss Baker.”
“You had no right to declare me dead. You never got around to mentioning that to me. If you had, I wouldn't have agreed to any of this. Helen Stanley can't get married to that wonderful, caring man because she's dead. I want to get married, and I want to have children, but in order to do that I have to get divorced. I can't do that either because I'm dead, and don't tell me to live in sin. Don't tell me the end justifies the means.”
“Yours was an extreme case, Miss Baker. Miss Tyger herself was the one who made the decisions where you were concerned. At the time we all thought it rather strange, but one never questions one's benefactor. I'm not trying to pass blame here. You asked what happened, and I'm telling you. I don't know how your husband found you. We're working on that right now. I also don't know who the two men were with the briefcases. For all I know they could have been salesmen. What we promised you was safety. You are safe. Are you not?”

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