Wants and Wishes

by Mary Manners

  “Oh, now that wounds me, Korrie. Because it’s not about being perfect and it never has been a contest between us—at least not for me.” She shook her head, her green eyes polished emeralds beneath glistening tears. “It’s about living the best that you can, every day. And believe me, I have my flaws. Tons of them.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. I’m being perfectly, painfully serious.” She pressed a hand to her lips as her tears spilled over to stain porcelain cheeks. “Nothing makes a person reflect so much as knowing she’ll soon be responsible for shaping another life. An innocent life. I thought I was ready for the whole parenthood journey. I’ve waited so long to hold my own baby, to raise a child. But now I’m terrified I won’t be good enough. I’m scared to death that I won’t be able to manage it all and I’ll just mess everything up.”

  “Oh, honey…you mustn’t think that way. There’s no room for negative thoughts here, only the good stuff.”

  “Then the same goes for you, Korrie. No more beating yourself up by dwelling on your failures. No more worrying about making mistakes or trying to being perfect.” Julie lifted her chin, her eyes flashing steel. “And here’s the biggie: no more staying away for months at a time without so much as a quick phone call here and there. Because I need my sister…I need you. Deal?”

  “You’ve got a deal.” Korrie smiled through the lump that had lodged in her throat and stroked Julie’s hair from her flushed cheeks. For the first time in a long time, Korrie felt like the older sister instead of a battle-weary failure. She was needed. It felt good. “For the record, Jules, you’re more than good enough, and you’re going to be a spectacular mom. You’re already a fantabulous wife. The best. It’s going to be just fine. You’ll see. Now, let’s go ooh and ahh over that nursery.”

  ~*~

  “Scottie, dinner’s ready.” Brayden set two plates filled with mac and cheese, green beans, and grilled chicken on the table along with a cup of milk for Scottie and a glass of sweet tea for himself. He was proud of the meal he’d managed to pull together. At least the kid would fill up with all of the food groups tonight. Whether he’d enjoy all of them, Brayden wasn’t so sure. The green beans might cause a battle. He steeled himself. He wouldn’t cave to the pouting and protests, not this time. “Come and get it while it’s hot.”

  No response. No slap of tennis shoes along the hardwood floor. No rake of overgrown paws. No boy, no dog.

  Nothing.

  “Scottie, Thor…come on.” Brayden shoved two fingers between his teeth and whistled. “Your dinner’s getting cold.”

  Where had they gone?

  He stepped onto the back porch and scanned the yard. The T-ball set had toppled over in the grass and balls were scattered across the lawn. Scottie loved to hit balls from the T to play fetch with Thor, and that’s exactly what they had been doing while Brayden worked the grill.

  But now Scottie and Thor had disappeared. Both of them.

  A chill raced up Brayden’s spine, His heart clenched in his chest as awful visions ran through his head. He’d spent too much time as a soldier, and now a cop. He’d seen more than his fair share of bad stuff. Sure, Hawkins Ridge proved a cozy, tight-knit little town where everyone looked out for their neighbor, but what if Scottie had gotten distracted by a bird or a butterfly and wandered off toward the creek that wound behind their property? It had happened before. That time Brayden had found him near an outcropping of rocks, chasing June bugs that danced and buzzed along the shoreline. Thor had raced alongside the kid, yapping wildly at his heels and forming a barrier between Scottie and the rushing water, dutifully warning him back from the shore.

  Thank goodness he had Thor. At least they were in this battle together.

  But now Thor was missing, too.

  Brayden thought back to that afternoon at the creek. After hauling Scottie home, he’d grounded the kid to the inside of the house for three days, which proved to be more of a punishment to Brayden than it was to Scottie.

  Keeping tabs on an active little boy required more than Brayden’s vigilant surveillance in addition to Thor at his side; the kid needed a homing device, big time. Brayden had warned him time and again to stay clear of the water, and he was fairly certain Scottie would heed that warning.

  But what if that wasn’t the case?

  Scottie knew better than to wander off. Brayden had laid down the law in that department, right?

  He’s only five. He’s not a soldier.

  Brayden started toward the river, calling as he went. Suddenly, he heard the chatter of voices behind him. And laughter…female laughter.

  About face. Brayden followed the sound to the hedgerow, where he peered over the shrubs to find Thor chasing Scottie, and Scottie chasing…

  Korrie?

  Yes. She laughed as both dog and boy raced after her, zigging here, juking there. Scottie’s war whoops rang out along with a steady stream of Thor’s barks. The sharp sound ricocheted from the knoll.

  “I got you!” Scottie cried, tagging Korrie’s leg. “Now you’re it.”

  “Mercy…show some mercy.” Korrie tumbled to the grass, giggling like a school girl as Thor moved in to lap at her cheek. She gasped for breath. “I’m out of practice. I haven’t played tag in…twenty years.”

  “You must be old like Uncle Bray.”

  That brought on another round of the giggles. “Yes, your uncle and I are both ancient.”

  Brayden stood on the opposite side of the hedgerow, mesmerized by Korrie’s laughter. Hair as blonde as summer wheat spilled over the grass. She was dressed in jeans and a fitted long-sleeved T-shirt that accentuated her curves. She turned her head and caught a glimpse of him, and the laughter froze in her throat.

  Following her lead, Scottie swung around. He spied Brayden through a gap in the hedgerow. “Over here, Uncle Bray.”

  “Yes, I see that.” Brayden pushed through the gap and stood there, hands on his hips, trying to hold onto his irritation. It was hard to do in the midst of Korrie’s mirth. “You’re not supposed to wander off, champ.” He reached for the child and lifted him into his arms, drawing him close enough to smell the dirt and sweat that clung to his skin. And something else… something sweet. Vanilla. “You scared a decade off my life.”

  “How long is a decade?”

  “Too long. Ten years.”

  “That’s a whole lotta long. I’m sorry Uncle Bray.” Scottie patted his cheek before wiggling from his grasp. “I didn’t think you ever got scared.”

  “Yeah, well…” he hadn’t either. But there was something about having the complete responsibility of a kid that yanked any weaknesses and fear that harbored deep inside, right to the surface. “What are you doing over here?”

  Korrie scrambled to her feet and Brayden offered a hand to help her up. She’d tamed all that hair into a bushy ponytail. Tendrils had escaped to frame high cheekbones and plump, glossed lips. He spied a dish towel hanging from her back pocket that shouted, Kiss the Cook. He’d like to, for sure. Brayden thought he’d never seen anything so hands-down gorgeous.

  “I’m sorry, too.” She brushed blades of grass from her hair and tugged the hem of her T-shirt over the waist of her jeans. Her cheeks were flushed, which merely served to deepen the blue of her eyes. “It’s all my fault. Thor wandered over. I guess he saw me in the yard and wanted to say hello. I was looking at the rose bushes. You trimmed them, didn’t you?”

  “I might have noticed they were overgrown and a danger with all those thorns. But you’re changing the subject.”

  “Right. Sorry.” She rubbed her hands along the thighs of her jeans. Her legs were long and slender, shapely. “And then Scottie came looking for Thor, and when he mentioned he was hungry—”

  “Because it’s dinnertime,” Brayden interjected, tapping the face of his watch. “Actually past dinnertime.”

  “Oh, is it?”

  “Uh huh.”

  As if sensing he was in a bit of trouble, Scottie wiggled from Br
ayden’s grasp and wandered over to Thor who lay curled in the grass, obviously tuckered out from his grand adventure.

  “I offered him a cookie,” Korrie continued. “I didn’t even consider that he’d wandered off. I thought you knew…”

  “You’re right. I should have known where Scottie was.” Brayden scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “But I have yet to find a guidebook with instructions on the best way to keep up twenty-four/seven with a five-year-old kid and his nomadic dog. So, I’m seriously considering a leash…for both of them.”

  Korrie giggled. Yes, the sound could only be described as a bonafide giggle, especially paired with the little flurry of crinkles that danced around those sapphire eyes.

  “That’s funny.”

  “Go ahead, laugh.” Brayden found himself grinning as well. It was hard to hold onto his irritation with her smile washing over him like warm summer sunshine. “I haven’t quite got my parenting hat on straight yet, and it’s painfully obvious.”

  “I didn’t mean…oh, this is coming out all wrong.” She flattened a palm against her lips to stifle her laughter, though her eyes gave away her mirth. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful father.”

  “Uncle.”

  “Oh?” Her gaze slipped to his ring finger. “That’s right…I vaguely recall you mentioning something along those lines.”

  “I’m Scottie’s uncle, mom, dad…all rolled into one. No wife—never has been—no back-up team. Just me.”

  “Wow.” Korrie placed a comforting hand on his forearm. Her tone rang sincere and the concerned look in her eyes backed it up. “Then I’d say you deserve a gold star for your efforts.”

  “I’m not looking for a gold star. Just a leash. Short, sturdy…” This time he laughed with her. It felt good. Really, really good.

  “I smelled the sugar cookies.” Scottie flopped back in the grass and gazed at the sky. “They’re yummy, and so much better than green beans.”

  So that was the source of the vanilla scent. Sugar cookies. Suddenly, Brayden’s mouth watered. He’d skipped breakfast to make it to the judge’s chambers for the guardian signing, and that had run right through lunch. Now dinner had taken a detour.

  A very interesting detour in the way of a lithe blonde with an engaging laugh.

  “Is that so?” Brayden tugged his attention back to Scottie. “You liked the cookies?”

  “Yep.” Scottie used his sleeve to brush crumbs from his cheek. He licked his lips. “Korrie made them.”

  “I didn’t really make them…not from scratch. Wait, hang on a minute.” She turned and sprinted up the landing, disappearing into the cottage for a moment. She continued their connection with her voice. “I used one of those tubes of cookie dough because I’m not a very good cook. But I’m practicing.”

  “I’d say you’re coming along nicely.” Brayden sniffed the air, enjoying the sweet, homey scent that drifted from the kitchen. “Of course, I’d have to sample your cooking myself…to make a final determination and all.”

  “I’d let you, but”—Korrie reappeared in the doorway with an empty platter—“I didn’t realize every last cookie is gone.”

  “I only had two.” Scottie lifted a pair of fingers.

  Brayden gave him The Look.

  “OK, maybe three. I think Thor got the rest.”

  “No matter…they’re gone.” Korrie turned the platter over, proving her point. “I’m sorry, Brayden. I was going to share, but…”

  “No problem. I’ll taste a sample another time.”

  “I could make that happen.” She nodded. “I’m feeling a little brave, so I’ll offer you a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I’ll cook you a full meal with dessert. In exchange for the delicious—and did I mention hot—the delicious and hot coffee you made for me this morning, of course.”

  “Of course.” It wasn’t a date. He didn’t have time for a date. He had a kid who needed a leash. And a dog. Yeah, a dog, that needed one, as well. “But this deal of yours sounds like a lopsided exchange. One cup of coffee for a full meal is a little out of balance.”

  “It was really great coffee.”

  “We all have our hidden talents.” Brayden laughed softly. “But to keep things fair I’d have to bring you brew for an entire week…maybe even a month.”

  “Well, my coffeemaker did meet a terrible demise, as you know good and well, and I’m currently short of the funds to replace it. So,”—Korrie handed him the go-cup he’d brought over that morning, now emptied and clean—“I could go for that. You make it just the way I like, which is an added bonus.”

  “Ok, then. I’ll agree to your deal. It’s a date.” But it wasn’t officially a date. Was it? Brayden wasn’t sure. Confusion reigned. His brain cells didn’t seem to be firing on all cylinders. He chalked it up to his missed meals.

  And Korrie’s smile.

  Why not jump in all the way. “Does this Friday work for you?” he asked.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Six-thirty, then?”

  “Uh huh. I’ll mark the calendar.”

  She’d mark the calendar. He wondered how often Korrie had guys over for dinner that she had to record it on her calendar to keep things straight. Suddenly Brayden didn’t feel so amused. He’d like those guys to take a hike.

  Every one of them.

  “Right. Until then…” He strode over to his nephew, lifted him from the ground and set him firmly on his feet. He brushed grass from the seat of Scottie’s pants. “My nephew knows he’s not supposed to eat dessert before dinner—especially three cookies—but I guess it’s OK to make an exception just this once.”

  “I told you Thor cleaned the plate.” Scottie pointed an accusing finger at the dog. “He liked them. A lot.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then I suppose you’ll both have to eat every last green bean on your dinner plates to make up for it.”

  “Thor doesn’t get a dinner plate.”

  “He does tonight. With a pile of green beans.”

  The dog whined as if he understood every word.

  “Yuck and double yuck.” Scottie joined in with some whining of his own.

  “That’s the price you pay, champ. No more wandering off, no matter how good the cookies taste. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now tell Korrie thank you.”

  “Thank you, Korrie.” Scottie crossed over to wrap his arms around her legs and squeeze hard. “Thanks for playin’ tag, too. It was fun.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Korrie knelt to Scottie’s level and drew him in. “You can stop over for cookies—and a game of tag—anytime. Just make sure to ask your uncle first.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  Korrie’s hug had Brayden forcing back a football-sized lump from his throat. For a moment he couldn’t speak. The clouds shifted overhead. Sweet vanilla drifted with the scent of fresh-clipped roses.

  Woman and child. Correction—beautiful woman. With musical laughter and eyes like sun-dazzled sapphires.

  “Now head on home, champ.” Brayden coughed to clear his throat. “Take Thor with you.” He needn’t have added that second part. The dog was glued to Scottie’s heels. “Wash up for dinner, and I’ll be right along to join you.”

  4

  “Julie!” Korrie rapped on the screen door at the front of the farmhouse a few days later. Without waiting for a reply, she rushed in. “Jules, where are you? I need you. It’s an emergency.”

  “Coming.” Huffing for breath, Julie rounded the corner to the foyer. “Good grief, Korrie. What on earth is all the ruckus about?”

  Korrie shed her sweater and hung it on a wall peg. “It’s Brayden. He’s coming for dinner.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait. You…Brayden…dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s on the menu?”

  “That’s the emergency. I don’t have any idea. Wel
l, I have ideas, but none of them have worked out. It’s a disaster. Oh, brother…I don’t know why I agreed to this in the first place. It was the coffee that sucked me in. And his eyes…those incredible, wolfish eyes.”

  “Slow down. You’re making my head spin and the baby kick.”

  “The baby’s kicking?” Korrie lowered her gaze to Julie’s gently-rounded midsection. “You can feel him kicking?”

  “Him or her.” Julie corrected. “And yes, but it’s more like tiny flutters. Beautiful, wonderful, amazing flutters. It’s…mind-blowing in a really miraculous way.”

  She took Korrie’s hand and pressed it firmly to her abdomen. They both held their breath and waited. It took only moments for the next tiny flutter to come.

  “Oh…” Korrie expelled her breath. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, man, that’s really something. Oh, wow.”

  “Yes, a really big wow.” Julie paused to sweep hair back from her forehead. “It’s a miracle, isn’t it?”

  “Truly. Yes.”

  Korrie wondered if she would ever experience such a miracle. She hadn’t really considered it until now. Being witness to the trials Julie and Michael had experienced had caused her to second-guess and shy from such thoughts. But now she felt the oddest ache deep in her heart, a sort of longing she couldn’t explain.

  “Don’t worry, Korrie. Your time will come,” Julie murmured, as if she felt the depth of Korrie’s uncertainty. “I know it will. God’s working in all of this.”

  “I…” Korrie’s throat tightened. She simply shook her head.

  “OK…enough of that. On to dinner.” Julie swiped at her eyes. Resolve strengthened her voice. “Let’s focus and put our heads together. Brayden’s been here a couple of times to share meals.”

  “Great. If he’s sampled your cooking, I’m doomed.”

  It was a well-known fact that their mother had named Julie in honor of Julia Child, her mother’s favorite chef. And the name seemed to have a sort of supernatural power. Julie’s cooking expertise had surpassed everyone in the family—and maybe Julia Child’s, as well.