Just a Wish Away

by Barbara Freethy

“Try the shrimp cheese puffs,” Lisa said, holding up a silver tray. “I made them myself.”

  She stared down at her petite, dark-haired sister and gave her a glare. “I told you I didn’t want a party.”

  “It makes Mama happy to take care of you. She’s been so lost since Daddy died.”

  “Daddy died nine years ago. When are you going to stop offering that excuse for everything Mama does that we don’t like?”

  “She still misses him,” Lisa said with a shrug. “Try one of my puffs.”

  Angela popped a shrimp cheese puff into her mouth. It was hot, tangy, and delicious. “Not bad.”

  “Not bad?” Lisa echoed in annoyance. “They’re spectacular. And who are you to criticize, anyway? You can’t even make good spaghetti sauce. You’re lucky Colin can cook, or you’d starve to death.”

  She smiled at her younger sister’s predictable reaction. Pushing Lisa’s insecurity button was an old habit and probably one she should have outgrown by now. “I was just kidding. The puff is fabulous.” It was true that she couldn’t cook like her two sisters and her mother. But then, she’d always been the odd one out, a tall, blue-eyed blonde in a sea of dark-eyed brunettes, some latent gene from her grandmother. She preferred painting to cooking. She was the artist in the family, the one who lost track of time while sketching a picture, the one who had no domestic talents. Fortunately, her husband didn’t mind cooking or eating take-out.

  “I also made the cannelloni,” Lisa added, waving her hand toward the dining room table where most of the party was gathered. “It’s better than Gina’s, but don’t tell her I told you that.”

  “Believe me, I won’t.” Gina and Lisa had competed with each other for as long as she could remember, and she’d always been caught in the middle, each one wanting her to take their side. “David must count his lucky stars every day that he married you,” she said, popping another puff into her mouth. She waved to David, who was sitting on the couch with one of his two children on his lap. His belly hung over his belt, a definite sign that he’d been sampling more than a few of Lisa’s puffs.

  “David is driving me crazy,” her sister confided. “He wants me to have another baby, as if we don’t have our hands full with the ones that we–” She bit off the end of her sentence, her brown eyes darkening. “Sorry, Angie.”

  “It’s fine,” she said quickly, not wanting to get into that subject.

  “It’s not fine, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “What’s going on?” Gina asked, interrupting their conversation. She handed Angela a glass of wine. “What’s the look on your face about? You can’t possibly be that mad about the party.”

  She really didn’t want to talk to Gina tonight. Whereas Lisa was insecure about her choices, her older sister Gina was always right. She had a strong personality and never had any trouble expressing her opinions, which made her a very good lawyer but not the nicest person to be around.

  “Would it matter if I was?” she asked.

  “Mama is the one who gave birth to you. If she wants to celebrate your birthday, you should smile and say thank you,” Gina told her. “She went through eighteen hours of labor to bring you into the world. That was no picnic.”

  Her gut tightened. No matter what conversation she seemed to be in, it always came down to babies. “I have to wash my hands,” she muttered.

  As she walked away, she could hear Lisa telling Gina how stupid she was to bring up the subject of their mother giving birth, and Gina replying, “For God’s sake, doesn’t Angela ever think about anyone but herself?”

  This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted a party. She loved her family, but lately she couldn’t stand being around them. Her sisters and cousins were all married. They had children. Some even had teenagers. She was so far behind the curve it was ridiculous. She was jealous. She knew it. They knew it, too.

  In the bathroom, she closed the door and stared at her face in the mirror. She’d never imagined she’d be thirty-five and without a baby. But three attempts at in-vitro fertilization had left her with an empty womb and a bankrupt savings account. Time was running out. She might have only one more chance. Colin had recently received a big bonus at work, and she knew just how she wanted to spend the money. She had hoped to talk to him about it tonight, but that would have to wait until they were alone. She certainly didn’t want any input from her mother or her sisters.

  She washed her hands, splashed water on her face, and reapplied her lipstick. She was too thin, too pale. She’d always had a tendency to wear her stress on her face and today it was all there. She forced a smile. She just had to get through the next few hours. Her family had gone to a lot of trouble for her. She had to at least pretend to be happy. As Gina said, it wasn’t always about her.

  Leaving the bathroom, she walked down the hall and into the dining room. Colin was filling a plate at the buffet table. At forty, her husband could still make her heart skip a beat. He was a very attractive man, tall and lean, with light brown hair and golden brown eyes. He’d taken off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to his elbows. His hair was mussed. He had a habit of running his fingers through it whenever he was tired or worried. She could always tell what kind of day he’d had by the way his hair looked. Tonight it was a mess, probably because her mother had railroaded him into throwing her a surprise birthday party.

  Turning, he caught her watching him and gave her an apologetic smile. “I made this for you, Angie.”

  She walked over and took the plate out of his hands. “Thanks.”

  He handed her a fork. “No knife for you. I’m afraid you’ll use it on me.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Your family loves you so much. They wanted to make you happy. I got swept up in their enthusiasm. By the time your mother finished talking to me, I was convinced that throwing you a surprise party was the best idea in the world, until you walked through the door a few minutes ago.”

  “It’s okay. Your intentions were good.” She looked around the crowded apartment, knowing she was lucky and blessed. “Everyone wants me to be happy, including you, and I have an idea about that.”

  “So do I. Come with me.” Colin led her into the kitchen, which was surprisingly empty. He took an envelope out of the drawer and handed it to her. “This is your real birthday surprise.”

  Her pulse leapt with expectation. “What’s this?”

  “Your present. I’ve been thinking about what to do with that bonus I got from work, and I came up with the perfect idea.”

  “Me, too,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I wanted to talk to you about it tonight. It seems like fate that your bonus is exactly the amount we need to…” She opened the envelope, expecting to see a letter with an appointment time at the fertility clinic, like so many they’d received in the past. Instead, she saw tickets – tickets to some sort of cruise.

  “The Caribbean,” Colin said with excitement in his voice. “Ten days cruising the high seas, just you and me. Miles of ocean, music, casino action, and all the food you can eat. It will be a second honeymoon, a new start. We can talk about what we want to do with the rest of our lives.”

  “You spent your bonus on a cruise?” she asked in shock.

  “Yes. Why?” His smiled dimmed. “What’s wrong, Angie?”

  She looked into his eyes, wondering how he could possibly be confused about her reaction. “I thought we would use the money to try IVF one more time. It’s the exact amount we need.”

  The blood drained out of his face. His jaw tightened. “We agreed that we were done after the last time.”

  “We didn’t agree. We just ran out of money. But now we have the money.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not about the money. It’s about you and me. I can’t watch you go through it again. I can’t see the hope in your eyes and then the despair. I’m afraid one of these days you’ll break, and I won’t be able to put you back together. Some things are not me
ant to be. We have to accept it.”

  “The doctor still thinks it could happen for us. I’m only thirty-five. There’s still time – but not a lot of time. Each year the odds go down.”

  “You hear what you want to hear. The doctor told you it might never happen, Angie.”

  “He also said it might,” she argued. “How can you give up?”

  He put his hands on her shoulders, gazing into her eyes. “We’re happy, aren’t we? We love each other. We have good friends, family, nieces and nephews to spoil. You have your gallery, your painting. Why can’t that be enough for you?”

  “Because it can’t.” She stepped away from him, unable to bear his touch. He was trying to take away her dreams.

  “You have to be realistic–”

  “No, I need to have a baby. And I don’t want to look back in five years and say, What if I had just tried one more time? Don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to take one last chance?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. She wanted to see him weaken, watch the reassuring smile come into his eyes and spread across his face. She wanted him to say, “Yes, that’s what I want, too.”

  “I can’t.”

  His words didn’t register for a moment, but slowly they sank in. His expression was definite, unyielding. God! He wasn't going to change his mind. A feeling of desperation swept over her. Was this it? Was this really the end?

  If Colin wouldn’t agree to the insemination, they were done. It was over. She would never have a baby. She would never feel that tiny life inside her. She pressed her hand to her empty womb, an ache spreading down deep in her soul.

  She’d touched her sisters’ pregnant stomachs many times, feeling the kicks and flutters of their babies, and she’d wanted that incredible and special feeling inside her own body. She’d always thought she’d have that moment. The idea that she wouldn’t was too much to handle. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, as though the walls were closing in on her.

  “It will get easier,” Colin told her, a hint of desperation in his voice. “We’ll fill up our days. We’ll make ourselves happy. It will be all right.”

  Before she could say anything else, the kitchen door flew open and her mother walked in, holding a cake lit up with candles. Her sisters, their husbands, their children, and the rest of the party crowded into the small kitchen.

  She stared down at the cake, the blaze of thirty-five candles surrounding the words Happy Birthday Angela.

  “Make a wish,” her mother said, setting the cake down on the table in front of her.

  She had tried wishing. It didn’t work. But everyone was waiting. They were calling out suggestions for wishes… A new car… A trip around the world. They were suffocating her with their desire to have her move on, give up her dream and wish for something that wouldn’t take a miracle. Then they could go on, too. They wouldn’t have to watch what they said or worry about her.

  She had to give them what they wanted. It was what she always did.

  But when she closed her eyes to make her secret wish there was only one thought in her mind.

  Please, God, give me a baby.

  She blew out the candles to applause and laughter and an off-key version of Happy Birthday. Her mother suggested they take the cake back out to the dining room to cut it, and Angela was grateful when the group moved out of the kitchen, leaving her and Colin alone again.

  He gave her a pleading look, silently begging her to stop arguing, to accept what was done. “Let’s get some cake,” he said. “It’s your favorite.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Her Uncle Rico popped back into the room. “We need more wine, Colin. Time for the secret stash every good Italian keeps down in the cellar.”

  “I don’t have a secret stash or a cellar,” Colin said. “But the liquor store down the street has plenty of wine.”

  “I’ll go.” Angela grabbed the excuse like a lifeline. She had to get out of this room, out of this party, out of this life.

  “You can’t leave – it’s your party. I’ll go,” Colin said.

  “No, I need some air.”

  He frowned, obviously unhappy with her decision. “What do you want me to tell your mother?”

  “Tell her I’ve had all the surprises I can take for one night.”

  “Angela.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t take too long.”

  “I’m just going to get wine,” she said. “How long could that take?”

  Buy A Secret Wish

  EXCERPT - SILENT RUN

  Sanders Brothers - Book One

  Excerpt @ Copyright 2011 Barbara Freethy

  All Rights Reserved

  Prologue

  Large raindrops streamed against her windshield as she sped along the dark, narrow highway north of Los Angeles. She’d been traveling for over an hour along the wild and beautiful Pacific coastline. She’d passed the busy beach cities of Venice and Santa Monica, the celebrity-studded hills of Malibu and Santa Barbara. Thank God it was a big state. She could start over again, find a safe place to stay, but she had to get there first.

  The pair of headlights in her rearview mirror drew closer with each passing mile. Her nerves began to tighten, and goose bumps rose along her arms and the back of her neck. She’d been running too long not to recognize danger. But where had the car come from? She’d been so sure that no one had followed her out of LA. After sixty miles of constantly checking her rearview mirror she’d begun to relax, but now the fear came rushing back.

  It was too dark to see the car behind her, but there was something about the speed with which it was approaching that made her nervous. She pressed her foot down harder on the gas, clinging to the wheel as gale-force winds blowing in off the ocean rocketed through the car, making the driving even more treacherous.

  A few miles later the road veered inland. She looked for a place to exit. Finally she saw a sign for an upcoming turnoff heading into the Santa Ynez Mountains. Maybe with a few twists and turns she could lose the car on her tail, and if her imagination were simply playing tricks on her, the car behind her would just continue down the road.

  The exit came up fast. She took the turn on two wheels. Five minutes later the pair of headlights was once again directly behind her. There was no mistake: He was coming after her.

  She had to get away from him. Adrenaline raced through her bloodstream, giving her courage and strength. She was so tired of running for her life, but she couldn’t quit now. She’d probably made a huge mistake leaving the main highway. There was no traffic on this two-lane road. If he caught her now there would be no one to come to her rescue.

  The gap between their cars lessened. He was so close she could see the silhouette of a man in her rearview mirror. He was bearing down on her.

  She took the next turn too sharply, her tires sliding on the slick, wet pavement.

  Sudden lights coming from the opposite direction blinded her. She hit the brakes hard. The car skidded out of control. She flew across the road, crashed through a wooden barrier, and hurtled down a steep embankment. Rocks splintered the windshield as she threw up her hands in protest and prayer.

  When the impact finally came it was crushing, the pain intense. It was too much. All she wanted to do was to sink into oblivion. It was over. She was finished.

  But some voice deep inside her screamed at her to stay awake, because if she wasn’t dead yet, she soon would be.

  Chapter One

  The blackness in her mind began to lessen. There was a light behind her eyelids that beckoned and called to her. She was afraid to answer that call, terrified to open her eyes. Maybe it was the white light people talked about, the one to follow when you were dead. But she wasn’t dead, was she?

  It was just a nightmare, she told herself. She was dreaming; she’d wake up in a minute. But something was wrong. Her bed didn’t feel right. The mattress was hard beneath her back. There were odd bells going off in her head. She smelled antiseptic and chlorine bleac
h. A siren wailed in the distance. Someone was talking to her, a man.

  Her stomach clenched with inexplicable fear as she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, and she blinked rapidly, the scene before her confusing.

  She wasn’t home in her bedroom, as she’d expected. A man in a long white coat stood next to the bed. He appeared to be in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, dark eyes, and a serious expression. He held a clipboard in one hand. A stethoscope hung around his neck, and a pair of glasses rested on his long, narrow nose. Next to him stood a short, plump brunette dressed in blue scrubs, offering a compassionate, encouraging smile that seemed to match the name on her name tag, Rosie.

  What was going on? Where was she?

  “You’re awake,” the doctor said, a brisk note in his voice, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “That’s good. We were getting concerned about you. You’ve been unconscious for hours."

  Unconscious? She gazed down the length of her body, suddenly aware of the thin blue gown, the hospital identification band on her wrist, the IV strapped to her left arm. And pain -- there was pain... in her head, her right wrist, and her knees. Her right cheek throbbed. She raised a hand to her temple and was surprised to encounter a bandage. What on earth had happened to her?

  “You were in an automobile accident last night,” the doctor told her. “You have some injuries, but you’re going to be all right. You’re at St. Mary’s Hospital just outside of Los Olivos in Santa Barbara County. I’m Dr. Carmichael. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

  She shook her head, his brisk words jumbling up in her brain, making little to no sense. “Am I dreaming?” she whispered.

  “You’re not dreaming, but you do have a head injury. It’s not unusual to be confused,” the doctor replied. He offered her a small, practiced smile that was edged with impatience. “Now, do you feel up to a few questions? Why don’t we start with your name?"

  She opened her mouth to reply, thinking that was an easy question, until nothing came to mind. Her brain was blank. What was her name? She had to have one. Everyone did. What on earth was wrong with her? She gave a helpless shake of her head. “I’m... I’m not sure,” she murmured, shocked by the realization.