The Wishing Tree

by Marybeth Whalen

  Emma smiled at her and looked up at her grandmother. “Mommy, did you tell Grandma what we’re doing tonight?”

  Macy tried to paste on a smile instead of grimacing at her daughter’s mention of their plans for after the depressing dinner. She had hoped that Emma would forget and that Chase, Emma’s long-time missing father, would back out, as Macy knew he was likely to do. When she agreed to the plans, she hadn’t thought about them falling on this very night. She hadn’t thought about anything besides making her daughter happy, keeping the radiant smile on her face by giving her whatever her heart desired. It was, Macy reasoned, the least she could do for bringing such a beautiful little person into her wreck of a life. If that meant sleeping in a tent in the cold of their tiny backyard at home, then that’s what they would do. If it meant she had to invite the man who seemed to know best how to slip into the cracks of her heart, then she would go along with it.

  Macy’s mom looked at her. “What are you doing tonight?” Her eyebrows were already raised as though she sensed the answer would not be one of which she would approve. Brenda, a willing and hapless participant, had accompanied Macy through the drama that was her relationship with Chase. She had whispered cautionary advice to her daughter when Chase first pursued Macy. She had found a way to rejoice over Emma despite the lack of a wedding ring on Macy’s finger. She had let Emma and Macy move in when Chase had suddenly left, just like everyone expected. She had encouraged Macy to find work and a place of her own. She had championed her daughter’s single-mother status, telling people how proud she was of her daughter as Macy scraped her life together, renounced Chase completely, and moved forward.

  When Macy didn’t say anything, Emma rolled her eyes, a habit she had picked up, far too young, from the evil Hannah Montana. Emma knew every word to “Best of Both Worlds” and often forced Macy to put the song on repeat play.

  “Since Mommy won’t tell you, I will,” she announced. “We are sleeping under the stars tonight …” she paused dramatically, “in a tent!”

  Macy thought she had dodged the bullet of giving any more information than that. Her mother relaxed visibly.

  “That sounds like fun!” her mother said, taking the spatula out of Emma’s hands to give the thick icing a forceful stir, the lines of blue spreading and melding as she did. Macy watched, wondering if she had ever really stood and paid attention as her mother made the traditional blue icing for Dad’s birthday cake. Had she always looked away in an effort to protect herself from the reality of what they were marking?

  “It’s going to be fun!” Emma said, sticking a small finger into the icing and scooping out a dollop she popped into her mouth with a giggle. “We’re going to be like cowgirls. And we don’t have to be scared, because Daddy’s going to be there to protect us because he’s a real cowboy.”

  Macy raised her eyes skyward, her hopes of dodging the taboo subject vanished. She could imagine Chase telling Emma he was a real cowboy, explaining his absence over the last five years in a made-up story. He was good at making up stories.

  She looked at her mother, who was staring at her over the top of Emma’s head, her frown knitting her brows together.

  “Your daddy’s going to come?” her mother asked Emma, still staring at Macy. “Really now.”

  Macy stared right back at her mother. “Emma invited us both,” she said, feigning a stalwartness she didn’t possess. “It was what she wanted.”

  “Oh, well then,” her mother said, “if Emma invited you both then all’s well.” She shook her head slowly at Macy over the top of Emma’s head. “Hey, Emma, why don’t you go get our special Grandpa candles out of the buffet in the dining room? You know where I’m talking about?”

  Emma nodded vigorously and scampered out of the room, eager to help. Sometimes Macy wondered if Emma ever shared the bizarre aspects of her life with her teacher or friends at school or day care. Disappearing fathers and dinners for dead grandfathers were sure to make people wonder about the environment the child was being raised in.

  Macy just looked at her mother. “Don’t,” she said.

  “Don’t what?” her mother asked, hefting the bowl of icing onto the counter beside the freshly baked cake. She slapped a scoop of icing onto the center of the cake and began to spread it around a little too forcefully. Looking down at the cake, she added, “Don’t tell you what a horrible idea it is for you to spend the night under the stars with Chase Lewis?”

  A memory flashed across the canvas of Macy’s mind. Chase leaning close to her, his breath on her face, igniting her insides as he always did whenever he stood so close. She could feel the heat of his body, the beat of his heart. She could hear his Texas drawl as, lips centimeters from her ear, he said, “We make a good couple, I think. Mace and Chase. We rhyme.”

  She pushed the thought of him from her mind and focused on trying to catch her mother’s eye. “Emma will be there,” she pointed out.

  “A five-year-old is going to serve as your chaperone? You’re really going to stand there and offer that up?” Her mother spun around, waving the blue-tinted spatula at Macy to emphasize her point. “You’re smarter than that, Macy. Do I need to remind you where you were when he left?”

  “At least I’m not in the same place I was then,” Macy said, turning things back on her mother. “You’re doing the exact same thing now that you were doing ten years ago. Nothing about your life’s changed, Mom. At least things change in my life.”

  It was a weak argument, but it worked to deflect the heat she was feeling under Brenda’s disappointed gaze.

  Her mother sighed, lowering the spatula in defeat. She turned back to the cake and stood for a few seconds, not moving. Macy was about to launch into how awful it was that her mother kept special candles for a man who’d been dead for ten years when she heard a door slam and then, from the dining room, Emma’s voice calling, “Uncle Max is here!”

  Macy couldn’t decide whether to thank her brother for his impeccable timing or curse him for interrupting. Something told her she wanted to hear what Brenda would’ve said if she’d been able to confront her.

  Yet there was part of Macy that wanted to be saved from having to hear the truth. For just one night, she wanted to enjoy sleeping under the stars with her precious gift of a daughter and the man who had given Emma to her. Like a real family. There was nothing wrong with that.

  Max pushed back from the table and laid his hands across his stomach with a groan. “Mom, you outdid yourself, as always,” he said.

  Brenda smiled at her son and avoided looking at Macy, a holdover from their angry words in the kitchen. Dinner would’ve been a quiet affair if not for Emma and Max bantering back and forth.

  Max was the quintessential uncle—silly, fun, a big kid himself—and Emma loved him.

  Without saying a word, Brenda stood and began to clear the dishes from the table. Normally Macy would jump up to assist, but this time she let Brenda leave the room without offering to help.

  Max turned to her. “Okay. What’s up between you two?”

  Macy shook her head. “Nothing I care to discuss with you, Uncle Max,” she responded as she nodded her head toward Emma, who was making Goldfish crackers swim through the remaining gravy on her plate.

  Max grinned and raised his eyebrows. “Hey, Emma. Why don’t you go help Grandma in the kitchen?”

  Emma left the Goldfish to drown in the gravy and ran to the kitchen, calling, “Let me help, Grandma!”

  Macy stuck her tongue out at Max and rolled her eyes as he grinned in victory. “Okay, spill it, Sis,” he said.

  “She’s mad at me. That’s all.” She gestured toward the clattering of dishes and running water coming from the kitchen. She guessed Brenda was taking her frustration toward Macy out on the dishes. “Why don’t you go help her and be the good child in this family?”

  He waved her suggestion away. “I’ll go help in a minute. First I want to know why she’s mad at you.”

  “Well, she doesn’t approve
of a decision I made. And, in my defense, I might have criticized her decision to have this dinner year after year.” She pointed toward the shrine that was housed in the room adjoining the dining room. She almost commented on the missing photos but decided not to bring that up. “It doesn’t bring him back.”

  Max shook his head, not bothering to look in the direction she was pointing. She lowered her finger, feeling somewhat ashamed. “It makes her happy to remember him in this way. It makes him seem close. What’s wrong with that?” Max asked.

  “I guess I’m just tired of living with Dad’s ghost, of living in the same place. I want her to move on.” She faced her brother, unblinking. “I want to move on.”

  He shrugged. “So move on, Mace. No one’s stopping you.” He paused, looking past her, out the window behind her. “Except maybe you?” He smiled at her. “You don’t get to stick Mom with that. I have a feeling that whatever Mom’s mad about has something to do with Chase. Am I right?”

  It wasn’t difficult to guess. Their usually unflappable mother got her feathers ruffled in a hurry whenever the subject of Chase came up.

  Macy couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.” She held her hands up. “You got me.”

  “And?” Max asked, showing his dimples even as he pushed her for the truth she didn’t want to divulge. She loved her brother and often wondered why he wasn’t married, rarely dated, and always seemed to mess up anything good that came into his life. Not unlike her.

  She shook her head, knowing the absurdity of what she was about to reveal and bracing herself for Max’s reaction. She told herself it was really no big deal—that Max and her mother were making more of it than it really was. She had spent the last few years getting stronger, creating a healthy distance between her and Chase. One night wasn’t going to undo all of that.

  “Well,” she began, looking away from Max, down at the empty space where her plate had sat, at the round indentation still visible on the tablecloth, “Chase is back.”

  Max chuckled. “So I guess this is your version of ‘cutting to the chase.’”

  She looked up at him. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

  She looked back down at the circle on the tablecloth, tracing it with her finger. “He’s been coming to see Emma. That’s all. He wants to be in her life. And he should. I mean, it makes her happy.”

  Max laughed loudly, and she looked up at him with a glare.

  “Seriously, Mace, do you buy this? You obviously expect me to.”

  “Buy what?” She looked at him, willing herself to look like an innocent bystander instead of the initiator her family was painting her out to be.

  “‘Buy what?’” he mimicked her, chuckling to himself. “Look, I am not one to offer advice on love.”

  Macy snorted. “I’ll say!”

  He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to agree so readily,” he grumbled, taking a sip of his sweet tea.

  “If the shoe fits,” she challenged, kicking him under the table.

  “Ah-ha!” he said. “I’m not wearing shoes!” He stuck his tongue out at her and kicked her back with his bare foot.

  She shook her head and laughed in spite of herself. She was thankful to have her brother, even if he was a pain. “I can take care of myself. Emma and I are doing fine.”

  “But?” he countered. “Something set Mom off.”

  “Emma told her that Chase is coming over to spend the night tonight. They’re sleeping outside in a tent.”

  He raised his eyebrows and wiggled them. “And you will be … where, exactly?”

  She closed her eyes and inhaled. “I promised Emma I would be out there with them.” She paused as he slapped his hand down on the table like he had just won a bet. “But!” she continued. “But! I have thought better of it. And now I am going to tell Chase he can sleep outside in the tent with Emma, and I will be inside the house making good decisions.”

  “And when did you make this good decision?” Max asked, nudging her under the table with his bare foot.

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “Just now,” she said quietly.

  The corners of his mouth turned into a half smile. “Good girl.” He rose from the table. “Now I’ve got to go tell Mom that I talked you into doing the right thing.” He pretended to rub an imaginary halo on top of his head, a long-standing joke between them. “It feels good to be the good one. For a change.” He picked up his glass and Emma’s glass, pausing before he left the room. “Good call, Sis. Keep being the smart, strong one. I know you can.”

  She flattened both of her hands on the tablecloth and breathed deeply, imagining the conversation she would have to have with Chase, dreading Emma’s tears when she realized her plan of family togetherness was ruined.

  She was glad Max believed she could be smart and strong. She wasn’t sure he was right.

  “Emma! Let’s go!” Macy hollered into the backyard, where Max was pushing Emma on the tire swing. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and picked up the bag of leftovers Brenda was always faithful to send home with her. The bag contained enough food for two meals for her and Emma.

  She smiled and turned to her mom. “You still cook enough food for an army, you know that?” It was safer to stick to a subject they could agree on, like food.

  Brenda held up her hands. “It’s a habit, what can I say? It’s easier to cook for a crowd than for one person.” Macy pretended not to notice when her mom’s eyes got misty.

  Brenda looked out at the backyard, at her granddaughter aiming her toes for the sky as Max pushed with force. “She’s not coming in anytime soon,” she observed.

  Macy set the bag down on the table. “And Max isn’t helping.” She let her purse slip off her shoulder and placed it on the table beside the leftovers, keeping her eyes on Max and Emma the whole time. Max hadn’t even tried to slow the tire swing. She could hear Emma’s giggles through the closed door. Spring was in full swing, and summer would be here shortly. Macy relished the thought of longer days, evening trips to the ice cream parlor, and weekends spent by the pool. Maybe Chase would even be part of her summer. And maybe, with time, she could get excited about that prospect.

  “It’s staying light out longer,” she observed. Weather and food: two safe subjects.

  “Mmm-hmm,” her mother said. “We’re heading into summer.”

  Macy paused for a moment. “I promised Max I would tell Chase to sleep with Emma outside tonight while I stay in the house.” She looked over at her mother to gauge her reaction.

  Brenda put down the sponge she had been using to wipe the counters. “That’s good, Macy. That’s smart.” She smiled at her daughter. “Max already told me.”

  Macy laughed and shook her head. “I knew he would. He still loves to tell on me even after all these years.”

  Brenda joined her at the table and they stood side by side, watching as Max finally helped Emma off the tire swing and the two of them started making their way back to the house, stopping every few steps to look at bugs or flowers. “He worries. Like me. Chase has this … hold on you that’s not healthy. And as much as I love Emma and am glad for her place in our family, I have to say, she gives him access to you I’m not sure you’d allow without her.”

  Macy shrugged, grateful they stood shoulder to shoulder and not eye to eye. “You’re probably right,” was all she said.

  Brenda opened the door to let Max and Emma in. A slight chill laced the air that blew in with them, and her mother shivered.

  “I hope you’re not too cold out there tonight,” Brenda said. She looked at Macy and smiled in her knowing way. Her mother, Macy realized, didn’t believe a word she’d said. She started to argue with her, but bit the inside of her lip instead and smiled at the three members of her family, who were all staring at her expectantly.

  Emma broke the awkward silence. “Mommy! Let’s go!” She put her hands on her tiny hips and tapped her foot. Max and her mother suppressed their laughter as Macy shot them a look.

  “That’s enough, Miss S
assafras,” she said, using a nickname the child had garnered as soon as she could talk in complete sentences, which had been early in her life. Macy blamed Emma’s talkativeness on being raised around all adults. It had never occurred to Emma that she wasn’t one too.

  Macy started gathering her purse and the bag of leftovers again, but her mom stopped her. “If you could just wait a second.” She put her hand over Macy’s. Macy lowered her brows and looked at her mother, then at Max. Brenda smiled back at them, suddenly looking like a child who had a secret she was bursting to tell.

  “Mom?” Max asked. “Is everything okay?”

  Her mother laughed, the sound erasing the tension. “Oh, sure. Everything’s fine. I just … I had an idea, and I’ve been a bit nervous about mentioning it to you kids. And now … well … now I’ve gone ahead and made the plans, and I’m just hoping you two will warm to it.” Her smile flickered for a moment. “Because I have to have your involvement for it to work.”

  Max pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and slumped into the seat. He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m afraid to hear the rest of this,” he said, his voice muffled.

  Macy slipped into the chair beside him and pulled Emma into her lap, whose eyes were darting from Max to Macy to her grandmother as if they were involved in a tennis match. Emma yawned and leaned her head back onto Macy’s shoulder. Macy knew it wouldn’t take long for her to fall asleep in the tent with her daddy.

  Brenda’s voice brought Macy back to reality. “It’s not going to require much from the two of you. Just some time off work.”

  Macy looked up at her mother, alarmed. She needed every penny from every hour of work she could get in order to be able to meet her monthly bills. And her mom knew that. Brenda held up her hands. “And I will help out with any lost income.”