The Wishing Tree in Irish Falls

by Jen Gilroy

  “Here.” He gave her his arm as they went up the rest of the porch steps, took the key from her, and unlocked the door. The trees near the house cast dark shadows, and a light wind rustled the branches. He flicked off the flashlight with a soft click. “I had a good time tonight.”

  “Me too.” Annie gulped in air heavy with the scent of spring earth. “Hannah, she’ll be home soon.”

  “Teenagers never get home when they say they will.” His voice rumbled above her.

  Teenagers like Hannah didn’t. “Still, I should . . .” The moon peeped out from behind a cloud and illuminated his face. The words she’d intended to say died at the heat in his eyes.

  “Annie?”

  “Yes?” Her voice stuttered.

  He dipped his head, and his warm lips brushed her cheek in a whisper of a kiss. Then he stepped back and, except for the lingering spicy scent of his aftershave, she might have imagined the intimacy of the moment. “Thanks for having dinner with me.”

  “I . . .” She swayed toward him.

  His phone played a guitar riff and shattered the stillness. “It’s my son. I have to take this.” He backed down the porch steps and groped in his jacket for his phone.

  “Of course. See you.” Annie pushed open her front door and stumbled through it then slammed the door behind her and sat on a hall chair. Her heart pounded and she dropped her head into her hands. If Seth’s phone hadn’t rung, would he have kissed her again? Or would she have kissed him instead?

  ~ ~ ~

  “Dylan, I . . .” Seth slid into the driver’s seat of his truck and gripped his phone, his palm sweaty. Kissing Annie hadn’t been part of his plan, not even an innocent kiss on the cheek that really wasn’t all that innocent, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He’d almost given up hope his son would call him back, but maybe this was the bridge he’d looked for. “It’s great to hear from you.”

  “You said in your message you wanted to talk to me.” His son’s deep voice held wariness. When had talking to Dylan become like talking to a polite stranger?

  “I wanted to let you know I’m sticking around Irish Falls for a while. I’ve got a great business opportunity here. I texted you, but I thought . . .” His chest tightened. What had he thought? That one phone call would make everything better between them? He stared into the night. Beyond Annie’s house, a light from a neighbor’s garage cast a faint gleam across the tree-lined road, and through the half open truck window, the mournful howl of a dog echoed.

  “Oh.” Dylan’s tone was stilted.

  “Maybe you could come visit me once you’re done with exams. It’s real nice here. There’s lots of nature and hiking. We could go camping.” Even though Seth hated the hopefulness in his voice, he pressed on. “You always liked camping, and you’ve never been this far north. I’ve got an apartment so you could stay and—”

  “I’ve already got a summer job lined up in Manhattan.” His son’s voice was flat. “I’m renting a place with friends.”

  “That’s great.” And it was. Dylan was hardworking and ambitious, what a man like Seth’s grandfather would have called a self-starter. “Well, maybe you could come for a long weekend. What about for Memorial Day or over July Fourth? Independence Day is probably a big deal in a small town like this one.”

  “Thanks, but I’m spending the holidays with Mackenzie and her family in the Hamptons. Her parents have a beach house there. Her dad’s the one who gave me the job, and he says he’ll take me golfing. He wants to introduce me to some guys he works with. He might be able to help me get an internship next year.”

  The excitement in Dylan’s voice was palpable, and Seth drew in a pained breath. Some other guy would help his son in a way he couldn’t. “Are things serious with Mackenzie?”

  “Dad.” Seth didn’t miss the sarcasm.

  Okay, the girlfriend was still off limits. “How is school going?”

  “Fine.” Dylan’s tone was clipped. “Look, I should go. I need to study.”

  And since when did his son study on Saturday night? “Sure.” Seth rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “If your plans change, let me know. I could come and see you. Even if you’re busy, we could still hang out for a few hours—get a meal or catch a baseball game.” The stuff they used to like to do together.

  “Right.” Dylan hesitated. “I heard what happened with your work. I . . . I hope stuff works out for you up there.” There was a slight warmth to his voice that hadn’t been there previously.

  “Thanks.” Seth stared at his lap. Despite that glimmer of warmth, he wouldn’t get his hopes up. “If you need anything, money or whatever, let me know.” His company had bitten the dust, but he still had savings—and a robust investment portfolio. But he wanted to give his son more than money. And he wanted to have what they used to—a real relationship instead of this unnatural exchange.

  “I’m good.”

  “I know you are. And I . . . I’m proud of you.” No matter what, he’d always be proud of Dylan. “Not that you need it, but good luck with your exams and the job. Text or message me. It would be great to hear how things are going.”

  “Okay.” A burst of noise erupted on Dylan’s end of the phone—male voices, rap music, and the bang of a door. “I really gotta go.”

  “Sure, I . . .” The phone went dead. “I love you, son.” Seth rested his forehead on the steering wheel and whispered the words into the night.

  He put the key into the ignition and glanced at Annie’s house. Warm yellow light gleamed from several downstairs windows and spilled out onto the porch. It was cozy, homelike, and welcoming—exactly like her. His heart clenched and he put the truck in gear.

  Maybe his grandparents had loved him, but they’d never showed it. And Jake . . . bile rose in his throat as he drove down the narrow street and hung a left and then a right back toward the station. He couldn’t change the past, but he wouldn’t repeat its mistakes, either. There was no way he’d abandon his son or ever give up on him. He’d have to find another way to connect with him. And if Dylan needed him, he’d always be there.

  Seth pulled into the empty lot behind the station and parked. Dylan’s call hadn’t been the bridge he’d hoped for, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other bridges.

  The roar of the falls made a counterpoint to his thoughts and, beyond the water, the wishing tree glinted silver in the moonlight. From across the years, his mom’s sweet voice resounded in his head. Every night when she’d tucked him into bed, she’d sung “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes.” Back then, he didn’t know Cinderella was a girls’ movie. It was only a movie she liked to watch, so he’d watched it with her, tucked into the gentle curve of her body as the two of them sang along with the characters.

  It didn’t take a shrink to tell him if his mom hadn’t died, his life would have been a whole lot different. He got out of the truck and stared at the velvety blackness of the night sky hung with a canopy of stars. Were his mom and Jake together up there in that vast ever after and had they found the happiness that had eluded them on earth?

  His fingers tingled and a song fragment drifted through his mind, a new idea, the first one he’d had in months. He pulled out his phone and made a note. Maybe his dry spell was over, and maybe he still had lots of chances to make a fresh start with his son, his career, and even with a woman like Annie. Although he didn’t know where things were going between them, one thing was certain. The next time he kissed her, it wouldn’t be a chaste peck on the cheek.

  Chapter 9

  “I’m worried about Annie.” Maureen sat in the easy chair in the living room of the house she’d shared with Duncan since they’d gotten married. Nine years ago now, and where had the time gone?

  Across from her, Duncan stretched out in the multi-speed recliner the whole family had given him for his sixty
-fifth birthday. It had more features than her first car, and she never sat in it for fear of breaking something.

  “You’re always worrying about one or more of the kids.” Duncan’s gaze never left the television screen.

  “Like you don’t worry about your two? Would you turn that TV off and listen to me?” Maureen tried to keep the irritation out of her voice.

  He picked up the remote and muted the sound. “It’s Saturday night. I always watch hockey on Saturday night. And this is a playoff game.”

  “You don’t follow either of those teams.” Maureen’s breath hitched. She’d been replaced by whatever was on TV. “Annie’s unsettled. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “No.” Duncan’s gaze flicked back toward the TV.

  “I said off.” Maureen snagged the remote and the screen went dark. “Ever since Seth turned up, she hasn’t been herself. She won’t talk to me, but maybe if you sort of laid the groundwork, I could—”

  “No.” The chair flipped forward, and Duncan’s sock feet hit the carpet with a muffled thud.

  “Why not? You two get along so well, and all I need is for you to introduce the subject. Like you’re looking out for her as her stepfather.”

  “Annie’s not twelve. She’s a grown woman. She’d tell me I was interfering and rightly so.” The table light shone on Duncan’s thick white hair. On him, the color was distinguished, whereas on her, it just looked old. “What makes you think anything I could say would make a difference?”

  Maureen exhaled. “I don’t know, but she won’t talk to anyone else in the family. We’ve all tried.”

  “That should tell you she doesn’t want to talk to anybody.” Duncan’s voice softened. “Most of us don’t wear their heart on their sleeve like you. I may not be related to her by blood, but Annie’s a lot like me.”

  Maureen curled her toes inside her slippers. Like her daughter, her husband still shut her out. She’d told Annie that if anybody talked to Duncan, it had to be her. But now he’d given her an opening, she didn’t know what to say. She cleared her throat. “Lately you’ve seemed . . . is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  “No.” His laugh was strained.

  “Don’t you think I know when something’s not right?” Maureen reached across the side table between them for Duncan’s hand. “For better for worse, remember what we said in front of the priest?”

  His hand stiffened, and he looked at the blank TV screen, not meeting her gaze.

  “Is there . . .?” She stopped then made herself say the words. “Have you met someone else?”

  “What?” Duncan’s normally placid blue eyes blazed into her. “Since I came into Quinn’s and saw you behind that counter, I’ve never looked at any other woman. You have my heart, and you always will. How could you even think something like that?”

  She wrapped her fingers around his cold hand. “I don’t know what to think. You don’t seem to want to spend time with me or talk to me, and we . . . well . . . since I came home from the hospital after my hip, you’ve slept in Rowan’s old room.”

  “I don’t want to disturb you.” He stared at their joined hands with the matching yellow gold bands on the fourth fingers.

  “I miss you.” Maureen swallowed the lump in her throat. “I miss us and who we were together.”

  “We’re still us.” Duncan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve put up with me for a good few years, haven’t you?”

  “I love you.” Her voice wobbled.

  “I love you too, Reenie.” He squeezed her hand before he released it. “The only thing I want for Annie is to find the kind of partner you are to me. From what I’ve seen of Seth, he’s a decent man. The way he looked at her that night he came to dinner, he wouldn’t treat her wrong.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.” Maureen suppressed a sigh. Seth had a wariness almost as great as Annie’s.

  “Stop fussing, woman.” Duncan reached for the remote control. “You stew about everything and most of it will never happen.”

  Maureen took a deep breath. “I’m not tired yet. Why don’t I run a bath and we—”

  “You need your rest.” Duncan’s words were too quick. “You can’t climb in and out of that high tub yet, either.”

  “I guess not.” Maureen’s stomach tensed as she studied his bent head.

  “Why don’t you make us some cocoa? That always settles you before bed. And I’ll get out the chess board. We haven’t played chess in ages. What do you think about starting a game?” His tone was too bright.

  “What I think is you’re avoiding something. If it isn’t me, it’s something else.” She smoothed the cover of the library book she hadn’t been able to focus on. “I bumped into Dr. Nguyen’s nurse at the garden center this afternoon. She said she’d see us on Monday, but when I got home and checked the calendar, neither of us has an appointment then.”

  “She must have been mixed up. It’s easy to make a mistake with all the folks who go through that clinic every day.” Duncan cleared his throat, pulled open the table drawer, and dug through several packs of playing cards and loose scrabble tiles. “Where did the chess set go to?”

  “It’s on the shelf in the hall closet where it always is.” Maureen shivered and rubbed her arms.

  Duncan got out of his chair and grunted. “Why don’t you add marshmallows to the cocoa? Let’s live a little.”

  Maureen stared after him as he disappeared into the hall. He’d never given her cause to doubt him, and she’d never thought he’d lie to her. But he was lying to her now, and if it wasn’t another woman, maybe it was something that would still take him away from her.

  Her stomach contracted, but she sat straighter, filled with fresh determination. First thing Monday morning she’d call Dr. Nguyen’s office to confirm the appointment. If it was for Duncan, she’d be there beside him and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  ~ ~ ~

  After Seth fixed the loose board on Annie’s porch steps, she seemed to have done her best to avoid him over the past week. If Tara or Holly didn’t come up to the station with coffee and a muffin or some other sweet treat, Annie scuttled in and left the tray on a table outside the studio before darting out again.

  He shut Jake’s closet and eyed the bags he’d packed for the thrift store in the next town. There were no clues about the man who’d been his dad in the nondescript shirts and pants. More conservative than Seth expected, the clothes could have belonged to any guy in his early sixties. All except for the worn cowboy boots and black Stetson, and he’d left those in the boxes where he’d found them, at the back of the closet behind a trio of battered suitcases.

  Seth turned away from the clothing, and the unanswered questions that went along with it all, and looked out the bedroom window. On this sunny Sunday afternoon, downtown Irish Falls was bustling and people spilled out of O’Connor’s country store down the street. He traced a treble clef on the bedroom window with an index finger, then grabbed a jacket from the chair beside the bed. If Annie wouldn’t talk to him, he’d have to find a way to talk to her.

  Five minutes later, he parked his truck in front of her house beside a lilac bush filled with tight purple buds.

  “Seth?” A shock of red hair appeared from around the other side of the bush, followed by Hannah in a pair of ripped jeans and a white T-shirt with “Nap Queen” on it in pink letters.

  “Hey.” He grinned at the teen. “Is your mom around?”

  “I left her up on the mountain.” She jerked her head in the direction of the hill at the end of the street. “I have to get ready for a gig, and she’s pretty pissed off about something.”

  His heart sank. “Where up on the mountain?”

  “There’s a lookout with a bench about ten minutes along the trail. It’s Mom’s favorite place. There’s a creek up
there, too. You can’t miss it.” Hannah grinned back. “Mom might have cooled down by now, but if I were you, I’d take chocolate just in case.”

  He dug in his jacket pocket for the bar he’d bought from the kids at the grocery store who were raising money for sports equipment at the school. One of the little boys looked so much like a young Dylan that Seth had ended up buying a dozen bars to see his freckled face light up in a gap-toothed smile. “Will this one do?” He held the bar up for Hannah’s inspection.

  “Awesome. Mom loves those.” Her grin broadened, and she gave a musical little chuckle.

  Seth’s heart pinched. Dylan used to be as easy with him as Hannah. “What kind of gig do you have?”

  “A kids’ birthday party. I dress up and sing Disney Princess songs. This afternoon it’s to a bunch of six-year-old girls. Singing is singing, no matter how young the audience. The kids love it, and I make good money, too.” Hannah sobered. “I don’t know what’s up with Mom. She’s usually pretty chill, but this past week something’s sure got her riled up. She skipped choir practice and then church this morning, and she hasn’t sung at all, not even in the shower.”

  Seth pushed away the much-too-tempting image of Annie in the shower. “Your mom usually sings a lot?”

  “All the time.” Hannah’s voice filled with pride. “She has a great voice. My grandma says Mom could have made it big if she hadn’t quit when she got pregnant with me.”

  “What about your dad?” He made his tone casual. Part of him hated himself for prying, but if he wanted to convince Annie to sing for him, he had to know what he might be up against.

  “I never met him.”

  “I’m sorry.” Inadequate, but what words were there for the kind of absence he knew too well?

  Hannah shrugged. “Mom and him split up before I was born. He didn’t want a kid.”