Twenty Wishes

by Debbie Macomber

  “Unfortunately, he can be a bit unreasonable,” the girl said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You shouldn’t let him bother you.”

  Barbie opened her mouth to argue and then decided the girl was right. She’d paid for her ticket, the same as he had, and could sit wherever she pleased. If she chose to sit in the wheelchair area, that was her business, as long as no one legitimately needed the seat. And no one did.

  “Why don’t you go back in?” the girl suggested. “It’s a very funny movie, you know.”

  “Thanks—I will.” Barbie marched into the theater, determined to sit where she wanted.

  And lost her nerve.

  It just wasn’t in her to create a scene. Instead she walked over to her previous seat. She slipped into it, balancing her purse on her lap, and stared at the screen. Whatever was happening in the movie bypassed her completely.

  Giving up on the film, she studied the back of the man’s head. He must’ve sensed her watching him because he shifted his position, as though he felt uncomfortable. Fine with her.

  In another thirty minutes, the movie ended and the lights came on. The theater emptied, but Barbie remained in her seat. Mark whatever-his-name stayed where he was, too. When the last person had walked out, he wheeled his chair toward the exit.

  “Are you always so rude?” she asked, striding after him.

  He wheeled around and for an instant seemed surprised to see her.

  “I’m rude when the situation calls for it,” Mark informed her.

  In the darkened theater Barbie hadn’t gotten a good look at him. She did now and almost did a double take. The man was gorgeous. Mean as a snake, though. Gary would never have talked to a woman the way this man did. He’d always been respectful. Polite.

  “I wish I hadn’t apologized,” she muttered. “You didn’t deserve it.”

  “Listen, you do whatever you want. All I ask is that you stay out of my way.”

  “Gladly.” She marched ahead with all the righteousness she could muster. But before she left the building, Barbie decided to stop at the ladies’ room.

  She’d just emerged when she saw Mark wheel himself into the theater lobby.

  “He was pretty annoyed,” his niece said in a low voice, joining Barbie.

  “I told him exactly what I thought of him.”

  The girl smiled gleefully. “Did you really?”

  Barbie nodded. “And then some.” Although she was beginning to suspect she’d overreacted.

  “People tiptoe around him.”

  “Not me.” She and Gary had believed in treating people equally. Anything else was a form of discrimination, of seeing the disability and not the person.

  “It’s because everyone in the family feels sorry for him and he hates that.”

  “Oh.” Well, she certainly hadn’t shown him any pity—but maybe she’d been somewhat rude herself.

  “I don’t, though,” the girl went on, “which is one reason he stops in here on the evenings I’m working.”

  “Does he come to the movies often?” Barbie wasn’t sure what had prompted the question.

  “Uncle Mark comes to the movies every Monday night.” The girl held Barbie’s look for an extra-long moment. “I’m Tessa, by the way, and Mark Bassett is my uncle’s name.” She thrust out her hand.

  Barbie shook it. “And I’m Barbie.”

  “You’ll come again, won’t you?” Tessa asked.

  “I live in the neighborhood.” Well, sort of. It was a twenty-minute drive, but this theater was the closest multiplex in her vicinity.

  “I wish you would,” Tessa said, walking her to the glass doors that led to the parking lot. She held one open. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  “You will,” Barbie said, removing the car keys from her purse. Sitting inside her vehicle, she let the conversation with Tessa run through her mind. Tessa was basically asking her to return the following Monday—and she’d more or less agreed. She’d need to give that some thought. She felt an undeniable attraction to this man, not to mention a sense of challenge and the exhilaration that came with it. In fact, she hadn’t reacted that strongly to anyone in…years. She didn’t understand the intensity of her own response.

  As she always did when she was upset or confused, Barbie phoned her mother. Lillie answered right away.

  “Sweetheart, where were you?”

  “I decided to go to the movies. I’m on my cell.”

  “I left you a message,” her mother said. “I was hoping you’d come by the house and have dinner with me.”

  Suddenly ravenous, Barbie remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything more than some toast and a few handfuls of popcorn all day.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Do you want me to pick anything up?”

  “No, I got groceries earlier today.”

  “Do you have your car yet?” Barbie asked. The red-hot convertible had gone back to the dealership for the same problem as before. The shop had worked on the steering mechanism twice now.

  “No, but I’m not worried.”

  “You’re so calm about all this.” Barbie marveled at her mother’s patience. She hadn’t complained even once.

  “Is everything all right, dear?” her mother asked. “You sound agitated.”

  “I am, a little.” Barbie went on to explain what had happened—without, for some reason, mentioning that the man was in a wheelchair. To her dismay, her mother laughed.

  “Mother!” she protested. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I know…. It’s just that I can’t imagine you being so clumsy.”

  “It was his fault,” Barbie insisted. “He’s just fortunate I didn’t land in his lap.”

  Instantly a picture appeared in her mind, and to her shock, it wasn’t an unpleasant one. Barbie saw herself sitting on Mark’s lap, her arms around his neck, their eyes meeting, their lips… She shook her head. She didn’t know where that vision had come from because the man was so…unpleasant.

  “You can tell me all about it once you’re here,” Lillie said.

  “See you in a few minutes, then.” Barbie was about to snap her cell phone shut when her mother’s voice stopped her. “Barbie, listen, I almost forgot. Jacqueline Donovan invited us to a small gathering next Monday. You’ll be able to attend, won’t you?”

  “Monday?” she repeated. “What time?”

  “Around six.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” she said, making her decision. “I’m afraid I’ve already got plans.”

  Mark Bassett wasn’t going to get rid of her as easily as he no doubt hoped.

  Chapter 6

  Anne Marie had been in emotional free fall ever since her Friday-night dinner with Melissa. She’d tried to push the conversation from her mind but hadn’t succeeded. Robert’s unfaithfulness hung over her every minute of every day—the betrayal, the pain, the anger. It wouldn’t hurt as much if she hadn’t so desperately wanted her husband’s child. For him to adamantly refuse her and then fall into bed with another woman, a woman who now had a child that might be his, bordered on cruelty.

  Another complication was her stepdaughter. Anne Marie didn’t want to believe that Melissa had purposely set out to hurt and humiliate her, and yet she was suspicious. Still, she felt that Robert’s daughter was distressed by her father’s actions and had told the truth when she said she wasn’t sure where else to turn. Anne Marie didn’t understand, though, why Melissa hadn’t confided in her brother. Surely Brandon would’ve been a more natural choice. Had she come to Anne Marie because she wanted to talk to another woman? Because she knew that no one else had loved Robert as much? One thing was certain; the instant Melissa had seen how badly she’d hurt Anne Marie, she was genuinely regretful. In the end, Melissa had been the one comforting her.

  On Sunday Anne Marie hid inside her small apartment with only Baxter for company. She didn’t answer the phone, didn’t check her messages. How she managed to work even half of Saturday was a mystery. At about noon, she pl
eaded a migraine and left the shop in Theresa’s hands. Thankfully, the store was closed on Sundays.

  Anne Marie didn’t leave her apartment other than to take Baxter for brief walks. She wandered from room to room with a box of tissues while she vented her pain and her grief.

  How could Robert have let this happen? How could he betray her in such a fundamental way? The phone rang a number of times but she didn’t answer. Her display screen showed that most of the calls were from Melissa, the last person she wanted to hear from. The messages accumulated until her voice-mail box was full. Anne Marie didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, the less contact with the outside world the better.

  Monday she had to work again. Intuitively, her staff—Theresa Newman and a college student named Cathy O’Donnell—seemed to understand she needed space. As much as possible, she stayed in the office at the back and shuffled through mounds of paperwork. She didn’t feel capable of dealing with the public.

  At twelve-thirty, Theresa entered the office. “Someone out front would like to see you,” she said.

  “A customer?”

  “Umm…” Theresa acted uncertain. “I think it might be your stepdaughter.”

  Anne Marie tensed. If Melissa had come to the store, it likely wasn’t a social visit. After Friday, Anne Marie was wary; she felt too fragile to deal with anything else her stepdaughter might have to tell her.

  “Anne Marie?” Melissa pushed her way past Theresa and stepped into the office.

  Theresa cast Anne Marie an apologetic look and excused herself.

  Melissa stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Why didn’t you answer the phone?” she demanded. “I called and called. It was like you dropped off the face of the earth.”

  She would’ve thought the answer was fairly obvious. “I…I wasn’t up to talking to anyone.”

  “I’ve been worried about you. Brandon has, too.”

  “You told him?”

  Melissa nodded. “He was furious with me. He said…he said I should never have told you.”

  Harsh words trembled on the tip of her tongue. How she wished Melissa had gone to her brother first. But she supposed that eventually she would’ve uncovered the truth on her own. Now or later, did it really matter?

  Melissa seemed close to tears. “Brandon’s right.” Her voice was shaky. “I’m sorry, Anne Marie. At the time I…I felt I should tell you. I knew it would shock you like it did me, but I didn’t realize how hurt you’d be. I was stupid and thoughtless. I’m so sorry.”

  It would’ve been easy to dissolve into tears all over again. Anne Marie made an effort to maintain the tight control she held on her emotions. “In a way you did the right thing,” she said, trying to speak calmly. “I would’ve needed to learn about this baby at some point.”

  Melissa advanced one step into the room. “I still feel terrible.”

  “Let’s put it behind us,” Anne Marie said. The girl would never know what it cost her to make that offer. Instinctively she wanted to blame her for this pain, but Anne Marie discovered she couldn’t do it. After years of trying to find some kind of connection with her stepdaughter, she didn’t want to destroy the tenuous one they now shared.

  “Can I do something to make it up to you?” Melissa pleaded.

  Anne Marie shook her head.

  “Can I get you anything?” she implored next.

  She drew in a deep breath. “Do you have a new heart for me?” she asked, in a tone she hoped was offhand and witty. From the sad look in her stepdaughter’s eyes, Anne Marie knew it hadn’t been.

  “Maybe I should just go.” Melissa’s shoulders slumped as she half-turned to leave.

  “Why don’t we have tea one day soon,” Anne Marie suggested.

  “You’d do that?” Melissa asked in disbelief.

  “You’re Robert’s daughter and no matter what you think of me, I loved your father,” Anne Marie said, unwilling to be dishonest.

  “Even now?” Melissa asked. “Knowing he betrayed you?”

  Love was difficult to explain. Robert’s actions had devastated her, and while she wanted to confront him, force him to own up to his betrayal, that possibility had been taken away from her. And yet…she loved him.

  “Dad hurt you badly, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did. I could hate him for that but—”

  “I would,” Melissa cut in, eyes narrowed.

  “And what good would that do?” Anne Marie asked her. “Believe me, I’ve been over this time and again. I could let the news bury me—and for a while it did.”

  “I know…. I blame myself for that.”

  “Don’t worry. I meant what I said about putting this behind us. Anyway, I’m dealing with everything as best I can. At first I wanted to lash out, but I couldn’t see how that would help. My pain and anger aren’t going to change a thing, are they?”

  Melissa stared at her for a long moment. “You’re a better person than I am.”

  “I doubt that—just a bit more experienced, a bit more broken and bruised.” She’d never expected Melissa to compliment her on anything. “You’re still young. Life kicks us all in the teeth sooner or later.” She didn’t mean to sound so negative, but at this point it was difficult not to. “I appreciate that you wanted to check up on me.”

  “I felt so awful about what my father did. And the news about Rebecca’s baby hit me hard. So I turned to you and I shouldn’t have.”

  Anne Marie waved one hand airily. “Like I said, I’m beyond all that.” It wasn’t completely true; she didn’t think she’d ever recover from Robert’s betrayal—and the way she’d found out.

  Melissa stayed a few more minutes and then left for her afternoon class. The invitation for tea was intentionally open-ended. Anne Marie would call her when she felt more…prepared.

  An hour later, she felt composed enough to meet the public again. Cathy had gone for the day, and while Theresa took her lunch break, Anne Marie handled the cash register. Mondays were generally slow and she had only two customers, neither of whom needed help. She was emotionally off-balance, although she had to admit she felt better after talking to her stepdaughter. Melissa’s concern, and Brandon’s, had comforted her, at least a little.

  The shop door opened and Elise Beaumont came inside. Her expression was speculative, but if she noticed that Anne Marie looked pale and drawn, she didn’t mention it.

  “Hello, Elise,” Anne Marie said, trying to act cheerful. “I’ve put aside a couple of new titles you might like.”

  “Thanks.” Elise walked up to the counter. “I came to see how it went with the Lunch Buddy program last week.”

  She’d almost forgotten about her volunteer project. “Oh, yes. It was fine.”

  “Did the school pair you up with a child?”

  Anne Marie nodded. “Her name’s Ellen Falk and she’s in second grade.” It took her a moment to conjure up Ellen’s face, recalling how shy and awkward the young girl had been.

  Elise picked up one of the books Anne Marie placed in front of her and flipped it open. “You don’t seem too enthusiastic.”

  “I’m not sure Ellen and I are the best match.” She went on to explain how the eight-year-old had barely said a word the entire lunch period. Over the weekend she’d lost whatever optimism she’d felt at the end of their previous session.

  “It’s early yet. Give it time,” Elise urged.

  “I will.” However, Anne Marie still had her doubts about the project. She’d finish out the school year but then she’d look for a different volunteer organization. “I need to call the school counselor,” she said. “The only real enthusiasm Ellen showed was when I talked about Baxter.”

  “The child’s interested in dogs?”

  “I think so. I thought if I got permission to bring him to the school, Ellen would enjoy meeting him.” Baxter was a good-natured dog who seemed to do well with children, and Anne Marie had no worries about his behavior.

  “That’s an excellent idea.”

  Elis
e decided to buy one of the books Anne Marie had recommended, a debut novel by a former journalist, and then wandered the store for a few minutes. With her own background as a librarian, she was an avid reader and a good customer. In fact, she often knew more about books and authors than Anne Marie did. With a second purchase in hand, Elise returned to the counter.

  “Something’s bothering you,” she announced, studying Anne Marie.

  “I—I’m fine,” Anne Marie insisted.

  “Actually, you aren’t and that brave front is crumbling fast. You need someone to talk to. I’m available.”

  Elise liked to get to the point. She wasn’t one to ease into a subject or look for a circumspect approach. Anne Marie usually appreciated her friend’s directness. Now, however, she didn’t feel ready to unburden herself.

  “Well?” Elise pressed.

  “I…I received some shocking news last Friday,” she began. “But I’m dealing with it.”

  Elise waited patiently for her to continue.

  Anne Marie glanced over her shoulder at another customer who’d just walked in and was scanning the shelves. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

  Elise patted her hand. “That’s understandable. We’ll just wait until—”

  The shop door opened, as if on cue, and Theresa came back from lunch. “The French Café has a fabulous squash soup today,” she said breezily. “You should try it.”

  “I might do that.” Anne Marie hadn’t eaten much of anything since Friday night. She was too thin as it was but she wasn’t hungry, and this latest incident had contributed to her lack of appetite.

  “I was thinking of having a bite to eat myself. Join me,” Elise said.

  It was more of a decree than a request; still, Anne Marie agreed. Elise was probably right—it would help to talk about this and to eat. With the glimmer of a smile she recalled Elise’s advice at the Valentine’s get-together. Theresa took over for her, and Anne Marie collected her purse and walked out with Elise.

  “You should be wearing more than a sweater,” the older woman told her.

  Anne Marie shrugged half heartedly. “You’re beginning to sound like my mother,” she murmured.