A Wish Upon a Star

by Jeannie Levig

  In the quick peek Erica had taken, it wasn’t Leslie’s legs she’d noticed. Leslie had been bent over the pool pump, those short little cut-off jeans hugging her hips and a very fine ass. Now that Becky mentioned it, yes, the legs were pretty fine, too. What really stuck in her mind, though, was from earlier—the outline of plump nipples tipping small breasts, just the perfect handful, beneath the faded orange tank top that draped loosely over her torso. It’d been all Erica could do to remain focused on Siena, introductions, and small talk while Siena watered the grass.

  “Hello?” Becky’s slightly raised voice halted Erica’s meandering thoughts.

  “Yes, her legs are nice,” Erica said, taking a drink of tea. “Stop gawking. She can see us, too, if she turns around.”

  Becky smirked. “I asked if you’d met her yet. If she’s single. Do you know if she likes women?”

  “Oh.” Erica’s ears went hot. Busted. “Yes, I met her this morning for about five minutes. Amazingly, though,” she said with mock astonishment, “we didn’t discuss our sexual orientations or marital status.” Although, she did say I a lot.

  Becky eyed Erica. “So with this nonchalant act you have going, do you really expect me to believe you don’t think she’s hot?”

  “Of course I think she’s hot.” Erica rolled her eyes to keep from stealing another glance over her shoulder. “Because…she’s hot. But what do you expect me to do? I just met her this morning.”

  “So in a week or two, you’ll hit on her?” Becky grinned.

  “Of course not. She’s my next-door neighbor. I can’t sleep with my next-door neighbor.”

  “Right, because it would be awkward. And you can’t date your next-door neighbor, because what if it all went wrong?” Becky did her best impression of Erica’s arguments. “Just like you can’t date someone you work with, or the manager of your bank, or the guy on the maintenance crew at the girls’ school.”

  “Becky, please. Don’t start.” Erica averted her gaze and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You know why I don’t date. It’s too hard.”

  Becky sighed. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that when we first met and you told me about yourself, I thought, wow bi and single! I was sure I’d get to hear twice as many hot sex stories. I’m supposed to be able to live vicariously through you, but you’re utterly boring.”

  “I know. I’m a disappointment.” Erica hung her head, feigning shame. “I do tell you about the sex I have when I have it, though. Doesn’t that count?” She smiled at Becky.

  “Of course it counts. But, woman, I have sex more than you do, and I’ve been married for fifteen years.” Becky tilted her head, obviously looking past Erica again.

  “Is she still there?” Erica asked, lowering her voice as though Leslie might be able to hear her from a hundred feet away.

  “Oh yeah,” Becky said. “She’s strutting around like the pool guy in a porno movie, only, in this case, a pool girl.”

  Erica chuckled at the reference. She wanted to look so badly but consoled herself with an image in her mind from earlier. This time, though, what struck her was the smile Leslie had flashed when Siena had introduced herself, the spark of warmth in her lush brown eyes when she’d watched Siena water the grass. And her hair…that thick brown hair, only slightly darker than her eyes, that fell just past her shoulders. It looked like it’d be so soft to the touch. The white strands that wove through it shimmered in the sunlight.

  “You’re going to at least look, though, right? Enjoy the eye candy?”

  Erica blew out the breath she’d been holding. “How could I not?”

  “Okay, good.” Becky leaned back into her chair. “And if you ever do—”

  Erica cut her off sharply with a warning look.

  Becky held up her hands. “Okay, I won’t go there again. Maybe we should focus on men for you,” she added, humor sparking in her eyes. “And speaking of men, where’s Trent?”

  “He had to leave,” Erica said without emotion. “He had to get back to Chicago for some emergency meeting tomorrow.”

  “Really? A meeting on a Sunday?” Becky frowned. “Did he reach his breaking point with Siena already?”

  Erica didn’t bother defending Trent’s excuse for leaving. “It seemed to come sooner this time for some reason.” She ran her fingertip through the condensation on her glass. “He only made it three days. I’m not sure what was going on with him.”

  “Kudos to you for even caring.” Becky pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and met Erica’s eyes. “If Jack bailed on me and left me to raise Rosi on my own, I’d never let him into the same room with me—for his own safety.”

  “Trent does the best he can, just like we all do,” Erica said softly. “You know how hard it is dealing with autism. Some people just can’t do it. Besides, Trent and I never had the marriage you and Jack do, even before Siena. I’m just glad he’s come around to the degree he wants to visit at all. I think, in the long run, it will be good for both him and Siena.”

  “As I said, girlfriend.” Becky raised her glass to Erica. “Kudos to you.”

  Erica smiled.

  “Would you ever take him back?” Becky asked. “I mean, if he really stepped up with Siena?”

  “No.” Erica didn’t have to think about it. “The divorce was the best thing that could have happened to us. We would have ended up hating each other if we’d stayed together. This way, we both have the chance to be happy.”

  “Are you?” Becky asked. “Happy, I mean?”

  This time Erica did think. She looked at Siena through the screen, then glanced around her patio. She thought of the quiet routine of her job teaching journalism at the junior college and her evenings and weekends at home with Siena. She smiled. “I’m content. And at peace. And I think that’s enough. I like that it’s only me and Siena, that there isn’t someone else whose needs I have to worry about. That was one of the hardest things with Trent, after Siena was born. Then when her behavior started to escalate and she was diagnosed, it became impossible. Everything’s better this way.”

  Becky’s expression was reflective. She clearly wanted to say something but didn’t.

  Erica was grateful. She needed to relax. It’d been such a relief when Trent had left. There’d been so much tension in the air during this visit, but he hadn’t said what was bothering him, and she wasn’t in the mood to ask. His interaction with Siena, or lack thereof, had been typical—he still hadn’t found a way to be comfortable with her, but at least he was trying. And he was preoccupied with work, but that was nothing new. He’d been that way since the day he and Erica met. In fact, that was one of the things that had attracted her to him, since she’d been focused on building her career as a television newscaster at the time and needed to be available to travel at a moment’s notice. On this visit, though, Trent had been on edge. There had been a moment, late Friday night after Siena was in bed and he and Erica were sitting outside, when he’d looked at her and she thought he might have something he’d wanted to discuss. But then he’d simply said good night and gone inside.

  Becky sighed. “Well, I need to grab my kid and head home,” she said, clearly deciding to keep her remaining thoughts to herself. “See you Monday at the meeting?” She downed the rest of her tea.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Erica said.

  * * *

  Erica scattered the crispy onions on top of the macaroni and cheese she’d made for dinner, then set the casserole dish back in the oven. “Did you have a good time with Rosi this afternoon?” she asked Siena.

  Seated at the kitchen table, Siena swapped the blue crayon she’d been using to color in the sky in her picture for a red one. “No,” she said without looking up. “I don’t like Rosi.”

  “You seemed to be sharing your puzzle with her nicely.” Erica closed the oven door.

  “That’s because you said I had to. I don’t like it when Rosi touches my puzzle pieces.”

  “I see.” Erica still somet
imes mistook Siena’s compliance for the possibility that she was enjoying something. Wishful thinking, most likely. When Siena truly enjoyed something, though, there was never any doubt. Erica thought of the pure happiness on Siena’s face when she’d been watering the grass earlier that morning. She smiled. “Well, I appreciate you letting Rosi spend time with you so Becky and I could talk for a while. Thank you.” She stroked Siena’s hair. It was one of the displays of physical affection Siena had grown to accept from her.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Siena’s reply was rote, but it was better than what it would have been two months earlier. Erica was grateful for the social skills class Siena was enrolled in for the summer. It was making a difference in how she interacted with people in general. While Erica knew Siena wasn’t being rude in her responses, the rest of the world wouldn’t, and Siena needed to be able to function out in the world. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, cupping the back of Siena’s head. “Finish up your drawing, okay?”

  A clang from outside on the patio and a scratching sound on the screen interrupted their exchange.

  “Hey, get back here. We weren’t invited in.”

  Erica recognized Leslie Raymond’s voice. Then a loud rattle and scraping sound carried inside, and a tan and white flurry launched itself into the kitchen, heading straight toward Siena.

  Erica’s heart leapt into her throat as her protective instincts flared. She grabbed for Siena.

  “Gus!” Siena’s squeal was filled with joy.

  The dog skidded to a stop in front of her, and his whole body became a wriggling mass as he twisted and squirmed, flopping onto the floor, then leaping into the air. He never jumped on Siena, though.

  Siena slipped from her chair and knelt before him. He immediately stilled, and she threw her arms around him. “You’re clean!”

  And there it was—unadulterated, unequivocal enjoyment. Erica laughed, even as she patted her chest to calm her heartbeat.

  “Jeez. I’m so sorry,” Leslie said from the kitchen doorway. “He took off the second we came through the gate.”

  Siena ran her hands all over the dog’s head, behind his ears, and down his back. She buried her face in his fur.

  He stood on his hind legs, his front paws in her lap, his back end and stubby tail shaking like a paint mixing machine.

  “Really, I’m sorry,” Leslie said again. “Gus—or whatever your name is—get down.” She grabbed the dog and started to pull him away.

  “Nooo,” Siena cried. “I want him.”

  “It’s okay,” Erica said, grasping Leslie’s wrist, while still trying to get control of herself. “He’s okay. Siena’s fine.”

  Leslie stepped back and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. Its disarray and her distressed expression made her look adorable. “I’m so sorry.”

  Erica started laughing again.

  Siena giggled, her arms tightly around Gus as he wildly licked her ear.

  “It’s fine,” Erica said, finally gaining some composure. She met Leslie’s gaze. “Would the two of you like to come in?” She broke into laughter again.

  This time, Leslie joined her. “Thank you. I think we will.”

  “You gave him a bath,” Siena said excitedly still running her hands through his fur.

  “Actually, I couldn’t stand the thought of it, so I took him to a groomer,” Leslie said. She looked between Siena and Erica. “And you’ll be happy to know that the groomer gave him an ‘A’ for his behavior—except for when she tried to file his toenails. He doesn’t like his feet messed with. And he got a doggie treat. And…” She held up a PetSmart bag. “I got a few toys for you and him to play with,” she said to Siena.

  Siena scrambled to her feet. “Can I see?”

  “Of course.” Leslie handed her the bag, then knelt and scratched behind Gus’s ear.

  Gus tilted his head into her hand and let out a loud groan.

  “Look, Mommy, a ball. And a rope with a tire,” Siena said, her pitch high.

  Erica loved it when Siena called her Mommy. It only happened when she was excited.

  “Can we go outside and play?”

  “Sure.” Another chuckle slipped from Erica’s throat. “But keep in mind dinner’s almost ready.”

  “Okay,” Siena said. “C’mon, Gus.” She raced out of the kitchen, the dog at her heels.

  When they were alone, Erica smiled at Leslie. “You just made one little girl very happy. Again.”

  “Not me,” Leslie said, putting her palm to her chest. “That crazy dog. And don’t worry. I’ll take care of your screen before I leave.”

  “What?” Erica asked, alarmed. “What happened to my screen?”

  Leslie laughed. “He just knocked it off the track in his desperation to get to Siena. It’s an easy fix.” She slid her hands into the back pockets of those little cut-offs she still wore, drawing Erica’s attention to the long, shapely legs Becky had gone on about—and they were long.

  For the first time, Erica noticed that Leslie stood a few inches taller than her, at least five nine or five ten. At five foot eight, Erica was used to being the one to lower her gaze with another woman, not raise it. It was a novel feeling, and she liked it. She cleared her throat, then stepped around Leslie and moved to the counter to finish the salad she’d been making. “Would you like to join us for dinner as a thank you for making Siena so happy?”

  “That’s all right.” Leslie faltered. “I don’t want—”

  “Are you sure? There’s plenty.”

  Leslie glanced around, indecision in her eyes. “It does smell good.”

  “Homemade macaroni and cheese,” Erica said tauntingly. “Salad. And peanut butter chocolate brownies for dessert.”

  Leslie groaned. “That sounds way better than the Twinkies and Funyuns we got from the gas station last night.”

  “We?” Erica arched an eyebrow. “You fed your dog Twinkies and Funyuns?”

  “He had some kibble I picked up, too, but yes, he did have a bite or two of Twinkie. He looked sad.” Leslie shrugged. “And he’s not my dog. Remember? I found him?”

  “That’s right.” Erica smiled and nodded. “I forgot. So what did you decide about dinner? Should I make you a salad?”

  Leslie hesitated. She looked down at herself. “I don’t know. I’m really dirty. I’ve been working in the yard and on the pool all day.”

  Erica kept herself from following Leslie’s gaze over the soiled and sweaty tank top and dirty cut-off jeans, because she knew it wasn’t the dirt she’d see. She didn’t need to be ogling her new neighbor. “It’ll be another twenty minutes before the mac and cheese is done, if you want to run home and get cleaned up.” She kept her attention on the tomato she was slicing.

  Another pause. “Really?” Leslie sounded more tempted. “You wouldn’t mind me barging in on your dinner?”

  “You’re not barging in. I’m inviting you.”

  “All right, I’ll be quick.”

  The eagerness in Leslie’s voice made Erica smile. She wondered how long Leslie had been on the road, making meals out of the offerings of gas station vending machines and convenience stores. “No rush. We can wait for you.”

  As Leslie made her way from the kitchen, Erica put together a third place setting, added it to hers and Siena’s, and headed out to set the patio table. When she rounded the corner, she halted, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.

  Leslie stood on the other side of the screen door, her legs spread wide, her arms outstretched as she gripped both ends of the door, her head tipped back as she stared up at the slot it fit into. In that position, her hips were thrust forward and her breasts strained against the well-worn fabric of the tank top. The slender column of her neck stretched backward, making Erica wonder what those taut muscles would feel like beneath her mouth. Heat flooded her body, and she felt herself flush.

  “There we go,” Leslie said, fitting the bottom of the door into the track at the threshold. She slid it open and gestured Er
ica through. “All fixed.”

  Erica inhaled a steadying breath, then walked outside. The movement took her closer to Leslie than she was comfortable with, but it was only for a split second.

  “I’ll be back in a few,” Leslie said. She jogged across the patio, then hopped off the one step onto the walkway that led to the gate.

  Erica took a moment to breathe. Surely, her reaction to this woman who’d simply shown up this morning almost in Erica’s backyard would wear off. Or maybe I just need to get laid. She’d learned to maintain a somewhat crass terminology around that particular subject in order to keep the romantic that was her natural inner voice under wraps. How long has it been? When no answer came, she turned her attention to Siena while her body finished its cooling process. The sight brought a smile to her lips.

  Siena threw the ball for Gus, who chased after it, scooped it up, then raced in circles and figure eights around the yard with it clutched in his mouth, while Siena shrieked and clapped her hands. Then he came to a screeching halt in front of her, dropped the ball at her feet, and sat, clearly waiting for the next round.

  Erica cast a glance into the yard next door and wondered who Leslie Raymond was. Who was this new neighbor, this stranger, who’d manage to delight Siena twice in one day? It wasn’t that Siena was a sullen child. She laughed. She played. She had favorite books and movies and toys that entertained and amused her. But this level of happiness and fun didn’t usually come twice in a day. It rarely came twice in a week. An uneasiness rustled through her.

  She didn’t know anything about Leslie, only that she owned the house next door, she was moving from Florida, and she’d found the dog on her way here. And she somehow knew just what to do to make Siena smile. That was a good thing, of course. How could making someone smile not be good? So why did it make Erica uneasy?

  A playful yip from Gus pulled her back to the moment. And what about the dog? Leslie kept saying he wasn’t hers. Did that mean she wasn’t keeping him?