Just a Wish Away

by Barbara Freethy

  "So have you tried online dating, Alexa?" Carey asked.

  "No, I'd be too afraid."

  "As long as you pick a public place, you're probably fine."

  "Maybe in Sand Harbor. But San Francisco has a few more crazy people."

  "I've always wanted to go to San Francisco," Carey said. "Do you ride the cable cars?"

  "Only when I have friends visit me from out of town," she said with a laugh.

  "Sometimes this town is a little too small for me, but if I did leave, I'd go somewhere in between, perhaps Portland, where Matt is," Carey said. "I've thought about moving there, but I'm kind of lazy. I have so many friends here, and my mom and now Braden." She looked at her brother. "It is nice to have you living here again."

  "I don't know that I'll be staying," he said.

  Alexa saw the dismay flash in Carey and Kathy's eyes.

  "You're thinking of leaving?" Kathy asked.

  "It's an option."

  "Because of Kinley. You don't want to run into her all the time," Carey said with disappointment.

  "Well, that's one reason."

  "Kinley will probably leave before you do," Carey said. "I ran into her sister the other day, and she said Kinley is thinking of moving to L.A."

  Braden shrugged. "I don't know her plans – or mine, for that matter."

  "Well, you don't need to decide tonight," Kathy said quietly. "Whatever you want to do, we'll support you."

  "Thanks."

  "So does anyone want to see a movie tonight?" Carey asked, obviously sensing the need for a change in subject.

  "I'll go with you," Kathy said.

  "Great. Anyone else?"

  "I'll pass," Braden said.

  "I have some more work to do at the antique shop," Alexa said.

  "I'll walk you back," Braden offered. "Are you done?"

  "Yes, thank you so much for dinner." She set down her napkin and stood up. "It was really nice to see both of you."

  "Hopefully we'll see you again soon," Kathy said, giving her another hug.

  Carrie also gave her a hug goodbye, and then Alexa walked outside with Braden.

  The air was cool, and she drew her sweater more closely about her body as they started to walk the three blocks to the antique shop. "Do you think they're talking about us now?" she asked.

  "Not a doubt in my mind," he said with a sigh.

  "Does it bother you?"

  "I'm used to my sister and mother being interested in every area of my life. There aren't a lot of boundaries in my family. Matt went to Portland to get a little independence from the female members of the family. I think he had the right idea.

  "I like your family. You're lucky to have each other. I hope you realize that."

  "I do."

  As she gave a little shiver, he put an arm around her shoulders. "You're cold," he said, as if he needed to give himself a reason to touch her.

  She didn't care what his reason was, she just like being closer to him. "This is better. What did you think of your mom's suggestion that Shayla was involved with Jack Wellbourne?"

  "We certainly have a growing list of viable candidates for people who might have been fighting with Shayla that night. The odd thing is that most of them are back in town – your father, Daniel Stone, Roberta Wellbourne…"

  "But my father wasn't here during the robbery, and he wouldn't have assaulted his own sister."

  "Maybe he didn't assault her. Drew seemed to think that your aunt might have fallen and hit her head on the counter."

  "Well, he wouldn't have left her on the floor bleeding," she retorted. "He's not that horrible of a person."

  "Sorry. You're right. It couldn't have been him."

  Now that she didn't have to defend her father to Braden, she felt the need to defend him to herself. "But it is odd that he wasn't reachable by phone the day after the accident and then he showed up here and wanted to help me in the antique shop. None of that made sense to me. He was very interested in those boxes. But he wouldn't hurt his sister. Phoebe practically raised him and my Uncle Stan. They adore her. My father is selfish, but he's not violent. He might have yelled at my mother, but he never physically abused her, not that the mental abuse wasn't bad." She let out a sigh. "I'm rambling. Stop me."

  "Let's just walk," he said. "It's a nice night."

  "It is," she said.

  All the shops on this block were closed, so it was very quiet – probably too quiet for a lot of people, but she was beginning to remember how much she'd liked life in a small town.

  "I feel like San Francisco is really far away right now," she said a few minutes later.

  "Do you miss your city by the bay?"

  "It's a beautiful place: the water, the bridges, the steep hills and magnificent skyscrapers. Oh, and the food is amazing. You can find something from every country in the world, and it's good."

  "How did you end up there?"

  "A girlfriend from college needed a roommate. I was tired of the snow in Virginia, so I found a job out there. I work on the forty-second floor. Sometimes, the elevator ride makes me dizzy."

  "Have you been through an earthquake yet?"

  "A small one. The building swayed like a ballet dancer. I guess that was what it was supposed to do."

  "Do you live that high up as well?"

  "No, I'm on the second floor of a very small apartment building in Russian Hill."

  "Russian Hill. That sounds cool."

  "You should come and see me," she said.

  "It's your life, not mine."

  She stopped walking and turned to face him. "Braden – I don't mean to be harsh, but you don't really have a life right now. You could start over anywhere you wanted."

  His gaze was steady. "And you think I should start over in San Francisco?"

  Her pulse jumped. "I don't know. But I think you should stop talking in absolutes – for either of us," she added. "My life is just my life. I can live it anywhere. I can be happy in a lot of places. I feel like you use the fact that I have an address somewhere else against me."

  "I don't think I'm doing that."

  "You just told your mother and sister that I wasn't staying, and that's why we weren't getting involved."

  "Well, you aren't staying, are you?"

  She drew in a breath. "I don't know what I'm doing, but I don't want you to make my decisions for me. Just like you don't want me to pick a career for you. So let me pick my address."

  "Understood," he said.

  "Okay, good. Now, there's something else."

  "What's that?"

  She gave him a smile. "I was wondering about that song you wrote for me."

  He groaned. "My sister has a big mouth, and I had a feeling you weren't going to forget that."

  "How did the song go?"

  "I don't remember."

  "Liar. I bet you remember every word."

  "I might be able to pull it out of my subconscious, but only if I had my guitar, and I don't."

  "I remember when you took your first lesson. You thought you might be a rock star if you decided not to go into the Army."

  "You decided I should be a rock star," he corrected. "You said rock stars were hot."

  "They are hot," she said with a laugh. "As Carey said, what girl doesn’t like a guy with a guitar singing his heart out to her?"

  "It might have been a better career path."

  The somberness of his words took her smile away. "Did you like being a soldier, Braden? I know you chose it because you wanted to be like your dad. But did you like it?"

  He gave her a thoughtful look. "No one ever asked me that."

  "Well, did you?"

  "I did like it. I felt like I had a purpose, and I learned a lot. It was tough at times, but the Army made me better. Unfortunately, there's a fine line between pushing yourself to the limit and breaking."

  "Are you talking about your injuries?"

  "No, not exactly."

  She frowned, sensing she was getting close to somethi
ng important. "Can you tell me more?" she asked gently.

  He let out a sigh. "I don't even know if I can explain it."

  She waited, letting him work it out.

  "I was proud to serve my country," he said finally. "It was an honor to fight alongside some of the best men I've ever met in my life." He took a breath. "All I ever wanted to be was a man my father would be proud of. That's what drove every decision I made. I'd ask myself the question -- what would my dad do? He was such a huge influence in my life. However, the longer I served, the more I realized that I needed to start living for myself. And I didn't want to be a career soldier. I didn't want to live that life forever."

  "I don't think there's any shame in deciding to move on."

  "That wasn't the shameful part." He gazed down at her, his face filled with shadows from the moonlight. "My unit got ambushed. Everyone thinks I got hurt killing the enemy, but that's not what happened."

  "What did happen?"

  He hesitated another moment, the pulse in his jaw beating fast and furiously. "I don't know if I can say it."

  "You can," she encouraged. "Whatever it is. Just tell me."

  "We'd been through a series of fire fights in the last month. Everyone's nerves were on edge. We were patrolling a village and supposedly keeping the peace but then some guys started throwing rocks. It wasn't a big deal, I didn't think, but…" His voice trailed away for a long moment, and then he said, "Pete snapped. He got so pissed off, he pulled out his weapon, and he fired at those young, stupid men." Braden bit down on his lip. "I yelled at him to stop, and then he turned on me. His eyes were glazed. He wasn't there. I could see something inside of him was gone."

  "He shot you?" she breathed.

  "Yeah, and I shot back. Because I thought he was going to kill everyone, not just me."

  "Oh, Braden." She put her hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his body. "What happened to him?"

  "He survived. I didn't kill him, if that's what you're asking. But he ended up in a psych ward somewhere. He was pushed too far, and he broke."

  "What about the villagers that he shot at?"

  "There were injuries, thankfully no fatalities. We were lucky that his actions didn't start a full-fledged assault on our unit. As it was, I'm sure it took them weeks to regain trust." He paused. "I knew I had to get out. I didn't want to end up like Pete."

  "You never would have," she said with confidence.

  "I'm sure he didn't think he'd crack like that, either. I should have seen that he was hurting. I was his closest friend. I was too caught up in myself. I didn't see what was right in front of me. Those deaths would have been on my head."

  She saw the pain and guilt in his eyes. "That's why you don’t think you're a hero. But you are, Braden. You saved lives that day. And if someone had died, it wouldn't have been because of you. Pete was responsible for his actions."

  "He wasn't Pete anymore. He was a stranger."

  "I'm sorry for what happened to him. But you're not to blame. You can't know what's going on inside someone's head."

  "I was his friend," he said helplessly.

  "I'm sure you were a good friend, but everyone has secrets, Braden. Everyone. And you are a hero to me." Her eyes blurred with unexpected tears. "I'm even more convinced of that now, not less."

  His jaw tightened. "Alexa –"

  "No, don’t try to convince me otherwise."

  "You're not seeing me for who I am."

  "I see you very clearly. You're the only one who's confused." She took a breath. "And whatever you do from here on out, you should do for yourself. I know that following in your dad's footsteps was important to you, but you're right, you have to live your life for yourself. If your dad were still alive, he'd be the first person to tell you that."

  "I don't know about that. He loved the Army."

  "He loved you more. You used to read me his letters, remember? He was such a good writer, so great at expressing himself, at encouraging you and supporting you and telling you how much he loved you. There's no doubt in my mind that he only wanted the best for you." She paused, trying to lighten the intense mood. "Maybe you got your song-writing talent from him."

  Braden let out a breath. "I don't think he would want to take credit for that."

  "I still want to hear my song."

  "Maybe one of these days."

  "Hey, perhaps it's not too late to be a rock star," she said. "That could be your new job."

  His lips curved into a smile. "You don't quit."

  "It's just an idea."

  "Another bad one. What about you, Alexa? You explained the accounting gig to me, but is it really everything you want?"

  "It's okay," she said, wishing she could tell him it was truly her passion. "How many people love their job?"

  "Maybe a better question is why waste time doing something you don't love?"

  "Because I like to eat."

  He gave her a look of disbelief. "You could make money doing a lot of things. And sometimes you have to feed your soul, too."

  A little shiver ran down her spine. "That was poetic."

  "I have my moments. I want to show you something," he said abruptly.

  "What?" she asked in surprise.

  He grabbed her hand.

  "Where are we going?" she asked as she hurried along next to him.

  "You'll see. Trust me, you're going to love it."

  Chapter Twelve

  Alexa was breathless by the time they turned the corner. Braden stopped abruptly in front of a boutique. On display were beautiful pieces of colorful glass, illuminated by small lights. The sign on the building read The Glass House.

  "What's this?" she asked, mesmerized by the shimmering colors of the glass figures. There were doves and swans, owls and hawks, and a glass tree with thin, delicate branches. Moving her gaze to another display case, she saw several necklaces lying against black velvet.

  "The jewelry is made out of sea glass," Braden said. "The other pieces are hand-blown, I believe."

  Her breath caught in her throat. She felt both happy and incredibly sad at the same time. This was her dream. This was what she had always wanted to do. But someone else had actually done it. "Who is the glassmaker?"

  "Mary Mulligan."

  She shook her head at the unfamiliar name. "I don't think I know her."

  "You used to call her the bird lady."

  She looked at him in surprise. "The woman who used to feed the birds on the beach every afternoon?"

  "And collect glass. You were always afraid she was going to beat you to the best pieces."

  "Obviously, she did."

  "Her daughter helped her open the shop a few years ago. She'd apparently been making the figures for years in her garage, but it was just a hobby. Half the time she'd just give away her pieces."

  "They're beautiful," she said, gazing back at the glass. A wave of emotion hit her again. She felt like she could see her life in the glass, the innocent dreams of a young girl that had never come to fruition.

  "I didn't mean to make you sad," Braden said.

  She blinked back a shocking tear. "No, my eyes are just watering. It must be the breeze."

  "There's no wind, Alexa." He turned her to face him, putting his hands on her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

  "It's weird seeing my dream come true, only I didn't do it."

  "You still could. It took Mary forty years to open her shop."

  "I wonder if she makes any money. If you calculate the rent and the number of pieces, and how much she would have to sell them for, it's doubtful that she's turning a profit."

  He smiled. "Stop. We're not being practical tonight. This is just for you to enjoy."

  She drew in a deep breath, glanced back at the glass and said, "I do like it, Braden. Thank you for showing it to me."

  "Well, you're not the only one who gets to psychoanalyze."

  "That’s fair. You know, I don't have any friends from my childhood, except for you. Everyone I know now I met as an a
dult, or at least in college. But I don't spend time with anyone who knew me before my family fell apart."

  "So you can get away without revealing too much of yourself."

  "Yes. I'm just Alexa the accountant to them. They don't question why I don't make necklaces out of sea glass. In fact, they'd probably think I was nuts if I mentioned I wanted to do that."

  "Then it's good you came back here. Maybe you needed someone to question your choices."

  "Yeah, it's great," she said dryly. "Now I'll go home and start thinking that my job really sucks. Before, I was living in relatively happy denial."

  He grinned. "The good thing about jobs is that you can change them. You're not what you do, Alexa."

  She punched him on the arm. "Look who's talking. You can't stop thinking of yourself as a soldier."

  "I'm trying."

  "Maybe we should find a guitar store."

  "I think we've done enough soul searching for one night. Do you really want to go back to the antique shop? It's getting late. I don’t want to leave you there alone."

  "You're right. I'm tired anyway. I'll go back to the inn."

  He nodded. "Good plan. I'll walk you over there."

  "I'm fine on my own."

  "I'm going with you. Don't argue."

  Braden had always had protective instincts. Even as a twelve-year-old, he'd watched out for her. She'd always felt safe with him.

  But right now safety was the last thing on her mind. Reckless thoughts were flashing through her head. She felt like a teenager wondering if her date was going to kiss her goodnight and if she was going to kiss him back.

  By the time they reached the front door, she was no closer to a conclusion, but she was definitely wound up.

  Braden seemed tense again, too. They looked at each other a minute too long.

  "Well, good-night," she said, finally finding her voice. "I had fun. It was nice to spend time with your family."