The Third Daughter's Wish

by Kaitlyn Rice

  The material of her red jacket was thick. He wanted inside. He kissed for a while longer, then pushed a finger beneath a shiny black button and popped it open. He swooped down to inhale the wonderland of her cleavage, at the same time easing his hand beneath red lace to thumb her taut nipple.

  She stilled.

  She backed away to her side and faced forward.

  “Josie?”

  She shut off the heater and stared out the windshield for a moment, then looked at him. “What just happened?” she asked.

  He took in her mussed hair. “I believe you gave me a thank-you kiss.” He dropped his eyes, momentarily, to that single open jacket button.

  She glanced down, swore and fastened it. “That was a kiss?”

  “It started as one.”

  She shook her head, her eyes dark and miles wide. “We talked about this at Mary’s, didn’t we?”

  “You said something about slowing down.”

  She waved at the air between them. “This was slowing down?”

  He felt like a jerk. “I was letting you set the pace.”

  She let out a snort. “I think I meant stop.”

  “Josie? What’s between us—it’s…”

  She shot out a palm, silencing him. “I can’t, Gabe.” She blinked at him a couple of times, then stared out the windshield again. “Not now, when so much else is happening. I can’t do us. Can’t you see that?”

  Special, he’d been about to say. Instead, he waited until she faced in his direction again. “You’re ending things now?” he asked.

  “This isn’t an ending,” she insisted. “It’s a…well…let’s just keep things normal. Okay?”

  “Normal?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. Normal.”

  Gabe located his coat beside the seat, then gave Josie a quick salute before letting himself out of her truck. He did his best to jog to his back door, the same as he always did.

  He spent most of that night convincing himself that she was right. Kisses could be forgiven. An intimate touch through fabric probably could, too. But indulging hotter, less-controlled desires would undoubtedly force choices that Josie wasn’t equipped to handle right now.

  Gabe had to remain strong.

  And find normal.

  Chapter Nine

  Josie eyed her nephew, who stood near the chain-link fence of his yard, looking too sturdy and tall for his five years. “You ready?” she asked, and waited for his nod before she tossed the softball toward him in a slow, wide arc.

  Luke swung and hit the ball easily, sending it flying into his mother’s recently cleared pumpkin patch.

  “Hey! You’ve been practicing!” Josie shouted as she chased the ball and avoided Luke’s enthusiastic hustle from oak tree to garden edge to fence post.

  When the little boy stepped across their Frisbee home plate, he hooted and she cheered. “Way to hustle, Lukey! You’re some ball player!”

  “I know.” Luke’s tone and expression held a hint of Callie’s seriousness.

  Josie laughed, enjoying that innocent confidence. With time and teaching he’d learn humility, but she liked him at this age, when he didn’t realize he shouldn’t broadcast his pleasure at his own success.

  She pitched the ball to Luke a few more times, treasuring the gift of a sixty-degree December day. After two more solid hits into the garden, he knocked one into the neighbor’s yard. “Oh, no!” he said, smacking his head.

  “That’s okay. Let’s get the ball and then quit. Your parents should be home with Lilly any minute.”

  Luke tossed his bat into a large outdoor toy box, then grabbed her hand. Before they could head for the gate, however, Josie heard the clink of the gate opener.

  Ethan walked into the yard, and Luke sailed across to meet him. As he swung the little boy up into his arms, Ethan said, “What have you been doing, sport?”

  “Playin’ ball,” Luke said. “Is my sister okay?”

  “She will be.” He caught Josie’s eye, including her in the conversation as he approached her. “Lilly responded well to an IV test for pyridoxine dependency—that’s vitamin B6. We think we can eradicate her seizures by giving her megadoses of B6.”

  “That simply?” Josie asked.

  “She’s had the eye fluttering off and on, but they stopped after this morning’s dosage. She’s in the house now with Callie. Go look.”

  “Wow.”

  “I asked God to make my sister okay,” Luke said, hugging his dad. “I’m glad He listened. She’s a cool sister.”

  “We’re glad, too,” Josie said, winking at Luke.

  Then she grinned at Ethan. “We need to get the softball from next door, then I’m going to talk to Cal a minute before I head to work.”

  “We’ll get the ball,” Ethan said. “Thanks for helping out. You’re really returning to work? On a Friday after lunch?”

  “I have a shipment of wallpaper and paint arriving at one of the houses. So yes, for as long as it takes to get that inside, I’m working. Then I’ll take off for home.”

  Ethan put Luke on his shoulders and crossed to the gate. Josie went inside and found her sister in the hallway, folding the portable stroller. “You okay?” Josie asked.

  “I’m so okay it’s crazy.” Callie set the stroller in her closet and turned to regard Josie. “I prayed this was something we could fix,” she murmured. “And we’re catching it early enough that she probably won’t have any neurological damage.”

  “Probably?”

  “Time will tell, but we have every reason to hope.”

  Callie and Josie peeked through the family-room door, where Lilly lay encircled by the several stuffed animals she’d received during her hospital stays.

  She was so small and delicate. She hadn’t learned to sit up yet, even at seven months, but she did appear awake and calm as she batted at a pink elephant.

  “She looks good,” Josie whispered.

  “Doesn’t she?” Callie beamed. “Thanks for watching Luke today, Josie.”

  “No problem. Just keep me in the loop, okay?” Josie returned to the hallway to pull her sweater from the closet. “I’m off to wait for some paint, then I’m going to do it.”

  Callie didn’t have to ask what “it” was. “You’re visiting this Joe Henshaw?” she asked. “Didn’t you just learn his name and address on Tuesday night?”

  Josie looped her sweater over her arm and went to the door, where she stood with her hand on the knob. “I’ve had a hard time waiting this long. I’ve been swamped at work. Today’s a lighter day, so I figured it was time.”

  “Be careful, hon. Are you taking Gabe along?”

  Josie hadn’t told Callie about Gabe. She couldn’t confess that she’d asked him to back up, because only she and Gabe knew that she’d started anything.

  Which was just the way she wanted it. Her sisters would tell her to grab on to Gabe and hang on tight. Izzy and Cal both loved him. The guys liked him, too. Their jaunt into forbidden territory would have to remain a secret. “Nope. Gabe’s not going.”

  “Oh, honey, why?”

  Because she was relying on him too much.

  Kissing him too dang much.

  And afraid of what that meant.

  “He’s swamped at work, too,” she said.

  And he hadn’t called. Which wasn’t exactly normal but probably for the best.

  “Too bad,” Callie said. “I don’t like to think of you doing this alone. I want to hear about it afterward.”

  Josie went to the model home and discovered that her supplies hadn’t arrived yet. She waited around for an hour, making a couple of phone calls to the delivery driver and studying her plans for each room.

  The driver had been vague about his location. He could still be in Kansas City. If she received her things next Monday, she’d have wasted the afternoon.

  She tried Gabe’s cell number. She’d seen his car parked down the street when she’d driven past. He was helping a crew install a kitchen.<
br />
  “H’lo.”

  “Yo, Gabe. It’s me.”

  “Hi, kid. What’re you doing?”

  “Waiting for a paint delivery.” She sighed, wishing she didn’t have to ask Gabe for another favor. “I really need to leave for a while, though.”

  “Did you get hold of the driver?”

  “Twice. He’s on his way, he insisted.”

  Gabe was quiet, then said, “I can watch for the delivery. Where will you be if I have questions?”

  “I’m going…home for a while,” she said. “I’m not feeling well. Could be that virus that’s going around.”

  “You’re sick?”

  “Might be.”

  “Are you making this up, Josie?”

  Uh-oh. After mumbling some sound that could be a yes or no, she said goodbye and hung up. She locked the model home, thinking she might return later to check on the supplies. Maybe she’d even start the painting to give the crew a head start.

  On her way past the house where Gabe was working, she glanced at the window and wondered if he was looking out.

  After muttering an oath that would have infuriated her mother, Josie grabbed her phone from the dash and dialed Gabe’s cell number again.

  “H’lo.”

  “Me again.”

  “Hello, Josie.”

  “I’m not sick.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to see Joe Henshaw.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  She hadn’t meant to fib, but Josie had no intention of contacting Gabe later. She could no longer drop by or telephone him three times a day.

  He’d had his tongue in her mouth, and she his. He’d licked her between her breasts and she’d felt his body throbbing in preparation to enter hers.

  How did two friends return to normal after that?

  She was about to say goodbye and hang up, but Gabe interrupted. “Josie, let’s do brunch tomorrow.”

  “Huh?”

  “We need to talk more. Backing up isn’t going to be all that easy. Everything between us…well, if we don’t talk about how to handle it, it becomes more of an issue, doesn’t it?”

  Oh, boy. They had an issue. It sounded depressing. Josie avoided issues at all costs.

  But he had a point. They couldn’t exactly ignore what had happened. “Brunch. Okay. Where?”

  He hesitated. “I want to say my place. We’ve eaten there together a thousand times and we’ve been fine. I believe we can handle it, don’t you?”

  She scowled into the phone. “Sure. In broad daylight, with the lights on and the windows and curtains open.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Not really. Thinking about him still got her hot.

  She wouldn’t say that to Gabe, though.

  “Yeah, I’m kidding,” she fibbed again. “We’ll be fine at your place.”

  “Okay. Brunch, no sooner than eleven. That’ll give us time to recover from whatever we do tonight.”

  That ending statement made Josie wonder about his plans for the night. Which weren’t any of her business. Heck, the man should find some of those phone number slips and start dialing them.

  They’d both be better off.

  After driving to Augusta, Josie bypassed the turn to her house and continued east to Joe Henshaw’s neighborhood. The area appeared different in daylight, but it was probably more frightening than it had been the other night. As she drove down the street, Josie noticed a general lack of upkeep. The people in this neighborhood must be too life-weary to care for their possessions.

  And there sat Joe Henshaw’s place, square in the middle of all the apathy. Was it less shabby than the rest of the dwellings, or was that only Josie’s wishful thinking?

  What was she getting herself into?

  It didn’t matter. She was going to do this, scared or not. She parked her truck at the curb and wished for the umpteenth time that she’d thought to phone first. But what did a person say in this situation?

  Hi, this might be a surprise, but you slept with some woman a long time ago and conceived me.

  At least Rick Blume had been married to her mother. This man may have never dreamed that he had a child, period.

  Josie had just reached for her truck’s door handle, when she saw Gabe’s big car turn down the street.

  She’d never been more glad to see that overpriced, ostentatious thing in her life. She scrambled out of her truck, then pretended a lack of concern when Gabe parked behind her.

  “Thought you were going to watch for my paint delivery,” she said as he approached her.

  “I told my crew to keep an eye out for it.”

  She slid her truck key into a pocket and faced Gabe, wishing to God she could hit on that elusive normal. Teasing was her best bet. “Gabriel Thomas, contractor extraordinaire, left work when there was work to be done? I can’t believe it.”

  He didn’t smile. “You left work, too, Josie.”

  She held his gaze for a second, then dropped her eyes and touched the toe of his work boot with her sneaker. “I’m not renowned for being the most driven contractor in the area.”

  “No. But you are dedicated to your work. Usually.”

  Yeah. She’d been distracted lately. She glanced at the house—Joe’s Henshaw’s house—and forced herself to breathe evenly. “I appreciate your concern, Gabe. But I can manage this. You’re supposed to back off, remember?”

  “No, you asked for normal.” Gabe waited until her eyes shot to his, then explained, “This is our normal. I’d have been here for you two years ago. I’m here now.”

  Josie nodded, then turned to stare at the house. She started toward it, knowing Gabe would follow.

  “Did you call this time?” he asked as they climbed the steps.

  “I did think about it,” Josie whispered. “I wouldn’t have had a clue what to say.”

  They stood side by side on the tiny porch, and Josie tried not to notice the dangling address number and the lopsided mailbox.

  She hoped Joe Henshaw wasn’t frail.

  Could she handle her feelings if he was frail?

  There was no doorbell. Her knock almost bounced the wreath off its nail and seemed to reverberate throughout the neighborhood. Josie imagined faces poking through every curtain and blind down the block.

  She righted the wreath in the same moment that a man opened the door. He was only slightly taller than her and had thick salt-and-pepper hair. As he stood blinking at the brightness of a cloud-covered day, she noted eyes that were hazel and round, like hers, but bloodshot. Older.

  She’d found her father.

  The sounds of a televised football game drifted out from inside the house, and Josie stood there, with no idea how to start.

  “Are you Joe Henshaw?” Gabe asked from beside her. Saving her butt, as usual.

  “Ayuh.”

  An affirmative, Josie thought, although the man’s voice had been gruff. His thick hair stuck out over his ears as though he hadn’t combed it in a while. Had he been sick or did he always look this rumpled and tired?

  “Well, if you’re Joe Henshaw, then we’re here to see you,” Gabe said, and stuck his hand out. “I’m Gabe Thomas.”

  “You came to see me?” Joe asked. He took a half step farther out, allowing the screen to rest against his back as the men exchanged a quick handshake.

  Josie should introduce herself now. But how? She’d gone through this whole thing with Rick. She felt trapped in an endless circle of impossible situations.

  I’m Josie Blume. Remember Ella? Surprise!

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, um. Actually, I’m the one who’s here to see you. Gabe’s just…helping me.” When she paused to catch her breath, she gazed down the street at all those front windows. “I’m wondering if you could invite us inside. Uh. The truth is, this is about your family.”

  Joe’s eyebrows lowered over those intense hazel eyes. “I don’t have family.”

&nbs
p; Oh, yes he did.

  Josie had only met Joe. They’d exchanged the fewest of words. Yet she yearned to know him—this man with a short stature and big eyes and dark hair.

  And she wanted him to know her, his daughter.

  “I need to talk to you,” Josie said. “I…I think this is something you’d like to hear. I promise, Gabe and I are safe.”

  Joe opened the screen door. “Come in, then.”

  He led them into a small room that reeked of cigarette smoke, then waved toward a stained green recliner that faced the television. The only seat in the room. “I have the one chair,” he said. “You’re welcome to it.”

  Gabe indicated with a nod that Josie should take the chair, and after she did, he sat on the arm. Joe disappeared down a dark hallway and reappeared with a wood kitchen chair. She suspected that one was an only, too.

  Joe leaned over the recliner, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the table beside it. Then he positioned the other chair beside the doorway and sat down. He didn’t pull out a cigarette and light it, thank God—it was already stifling in the tiny house—but he toyed with the pack. He tapped its end. He plucked out a cigarette and shoved it back inside. Josie suspected he was having a nicotine fit of monumental proportions.

  She didn’t hesitate any longer. “I’m Josie Blume.”

  The old guy frowned, finally tapping a cigarette all the way out of the pack and holding it between his fingers.

  He didn’t light it, though.

  “I believe you knew Ella Blume, my mother?”

  He rolled the cigarette between his thumb and index finger. Then he said, “Ayuh. ’Cept I wouldn’t say I knew her. I knew of her.”

  He glanced at Gabe, who must have made some movement or expression that suggested doubt. Slight creases formed beside Joe’s mouth—was that a grin?—then he muttered, “Mostly.”

  “Do you have any idea who I am, Joe?”

  “I have suspicions.”

  “You slept with Ella Blume?”

  He lifted his chin. “Once or twice.”

  “My mother had a baby from that once or twice.”

  Joe’s mouth pinched into a tight line, then he harrumphed a sound of resignation. “I wondered,” he said. “Can’t say I’m shocked.”

  He stared at Josie, those eyes so round and bloodshot it hurt to look at them. She saw pain in his expression. She saw plenty of regret; that’d been there from the first minute.