The Wishing Tree in Irish Falls

by Jen Gilroy

  “I should head out, too. It’s nearly suppertime, and my guys need to be fed.” Holly hugged Annie. “You can do this. Don’t doubt yourself and don’t let old hurts stop you from trying new things. Go for it. Won’t you always wonder ‘what if,’ if you don’t?”

  As Holly waggled her fingers in a good-bye, unexpected tears pricked at the backs of Annie’s eyes. Leave it to Holly to cut through the noise and get to the heart of the issue—her heart, too. She swallowed the lump in her throat that was as much from the tenderness in Holly’s voice as about the memories that still made her fearful of drawing attention to herself.

  “I love Irish Falls, and I love my life here.” Annie fumbled with the bags her new clothes had been packed in.

  “Nobody says you don’t.” Tara’s tone was gentle. “But Holly’s right and, if you ask me, maybe you’ve wondered ‘what if’ for years. Lately, though, you get this look in your eyes like you’re thinking about being somewhere else.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Annie padded to the bedroom window.

  The leaves on the two big maple trees that guarded the backyard like sentinels had begun to fill out, and the lilac bushes by the back porch had fragrant purple blooms.

  “Even though Irish Falls is home, you can still leave it and spread your wings. Like I did with Adam.” Tara’s mouth trembled.

  Annie looped a comforting arm around her sister. “I spread my wings when I went to Nashville. Besides, it’s not like I’m trapped here. I leave all the time. We went shopping today, didn’t we?”

  “Today doesn’t count, and if you’d truly spread your wings, you’d have been able to finish college and work somewhere else but the bakery.” There was a hint of exasperation in Tara’s tone. “Apart from the time you and Hannah went to Disney World with Mom and Duncan, when did you last travel anywhere out of state for more than a day or two? Rowan and I wanted you to come to Toronto with us last year, but you wouldn’t.”

  “Only because I didn’t want to leave Hannah. She had her first summer job.” Once, her daughter had been too small, and now Annie fretted about what the teen might get up to in her absence. “You also know money’s tight for me. I have to save for Hannah’s future.” Annie’s stomach hardened.

  “That’s why everything I found for you was on sale. You’ll look like a million dollars for under a hundred bucks.” Tara’s smile was smug. “Those sparkly earrings I used to wear for parties will look perfect with that top, and you can borrow my black heels.”

  “What do you mean used to wear? You’ll wear those earrings again.” Annie studied her reflection again in the mirror.

  “Nope. You can have them.” Sadness lurked behind Tara’s bright smile.

  “I . . . you . . .”

  “Leave it, okay?” Tara bit her lip. “It’s your time to shine.”

  “Adam wouldn’t have—”

  “Adam’s not here.” Tara’s clipped voice came from inside the closet where she rummaged for empty hangers.

  “True, but—”

  “I’ll bring my shoes to work tomorrow.” She cut Annie off again. “You need to practice walking in heels before Saturday.”

  “What if I fall on my butt?” Apart from Jake’s funeral, Annie couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn any shoes except sneakers.

  “You’ll get right back up and show everyone what we Quinn girls are made of.” Tara’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile. “And before you say anything else, it’s easier for me to give you advice than take it myself, even though I might need it.” She handed Annie the hangers and moved toward the bedroom door. “If you’re really worried about the shoes, you could wear those old boots on the shelf in your basement. I don’t know why you don’t take them to Goodwill. You never wear them.”

  Annie’s heart gave a sickening thud. She’d learn to walk in Tara’s heels if it killed her. She hadn’t worn those boots in almost seventeen years, and she didn’t plan to ever wear them again, but she kept them as a reminder of what and who she didn’t want to be. She followed her sister down the stairs. “You’ll still come over on Saturday and help me get ready?”

  “Of course.” Tara slipped into the pair of vertiginous cobalt blue heels she’d bought earlier. “I’ll even make sure Hannah doesn’t wear too much makeup, seeing as she’s not likely to listen to you.”

  “Like Nana Gerry always said, less is more.” Annie made herself smile.

  “Except when it comes to a guy like Seth. Then more is so much more.” Tara’s answering smile turned wicked. “When you get nervous about the show, remember the women in the audience won’t be looking at you. With how Seth heats up the airwaves, can you imagine what he’ll be like on stage?”

  Annie didn’t have to imagine it. She glimpsed it every time they rehearsed together, and it dug up emotions she thought she’d made peace with. A shiver coursed through her. Couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t. She repeated the words in her head. Yet, in spite of everything, she was still drawn to him way more than she should be—in life, as well as music.

  ~ ~ ~

  On Friday morning, Seth tucked the cardboard box under the desk in his small office at the station. Would Annie be as happy with his surprise as Tara said, or had he overstepped one of those invisible barriers she put up between them at every turn?

  Summertime tunes from the lunchtime oldies show washed over him as he turned to the computer to answer e-mails. In a few hours, the Memorial Day weekend would kick off for families all across the country, but so far, Seth’s phone had stayed silent. And each time he thought about Dylan heading to the Hamptons, his heart squeezed a little more.

  “Tara said you wanted to talk to me.” Annie’s voice came from outside the half-open office door. “Did you hear from your son?”

  He swiveled in his chair and gestured her to come in and sit beside him. “No, not yet.”

  “You have to keep trying.” Her tone was encouraging, although Seth couldn’t feel encouraged.

  “I will.” Except, Dylan was an adult, and if he didn’t want to talk, Seth couldn’t force him to. “We used to be close, but now I don’t think he wants me in his life. He’s caught up with his girlfriend—a whole new life, really.”

  “You’re his dad. Nobody can replace you.”

  Apart from a guy who could help him get a job and a girlfriend whose folks had the kind of summer place Seth had grown up with. He exhaled. He should be happy Dylan had those opportunities.

  “He thought I was interfering in his life, but I wanted to look out for him. When he went to college, it was his first time away from home, and I thought . . .” Whatever he’d thought and then said were wrong.

  “I bet Dylan thought, too.” Annie’s tone was understanding. “You’ll work it out. Be patient.”

  But patience wasn’t something Seth was good at. “I was going to text him again, but . . .”

  “Go ahead, but don’t sound like you’re pushing. Be friendly and low key. Tell him about the station and other stuff here. If he knows you have your own life, maybe he’ll share more of his.” She gave a self-deprecating shrug. “What do I know? I have a daughter who doesn’t want to go to college and won’t listen much to me, either.”

  “You know more than me. Until this past year, Dylan was a pretty easy kid. I thought I’d gotten through the teen years fine, but he saved all the teenage rebellion for college.” He gave her a bemused smile. Annie wore an apron patterned with an American flag overtop denim shorts and a white T-shirt. She also sported a pair of sparkly red, white, and blue sneakers. “I didn’t think people got dressed up for Memorial Day.”

  “Remember Hannah said holidays in our family are big? Dressing up is part of that. My dad started it when we were little, because he thought it helped customers get in the holiday spirit. At Christmas, I wear reindeer antlers for two weeks.
” She gave him a sheepish grin. “If you’d turned up here a few weeks earlier, you’d have seen me in Easter Bunny ears.”

  Now that was a sight he’d have enjoyed. “Did you have a cottontail, too?” He choked back a laugh. Over the past while, they’d fallen into this kind of teasing that was not only fun but had an unanticipated sexy edge.

  “No.” Her grin broadened. “And don’t even think about it or give Brendan ideas for next year.” Her face flushed before her smile slipped away. “Because of Adam, we have a special reason to mark Memorial Day.” She fiddled with her apron ties and gazed out the office window, where flags and bunting were draped from each storefront.

  “Yeah.” How would he have coped if Dylan had wanted to join the military? At least, so far, he was thankful he hadn’t had to find out. “You look tired.” Her eyes were purple-shadowed and her shoulders hunched forward.

  “We baked and iced three hundred cupcakes this morning to fill advance orders for the weekend. I’m used to standing all day, but that kitchen gets hot.” She shrugged and winced.

  He couldn’t imagine that many cupcakes, and his heart filled with tenderness and something else. “You better not be scheduled to work tomorrow. You need to be well rested before you sing.”

  “I will be.” Her tone was amused. “Tara, Rowan, and Holly have researched performance tips for singers so, as well as monitoring what I eat and how much I sleep, they’ve got me gargling with warm salt water and using this special throat spray Tara ordered off the Internet to coat my vocal cords.” There was an appealing twinkle in her eyes. “Humoring them is easier than arguing. Besides, I’d have to use my voice to argue. Tara and Holly won’t even let me serve at the counter today because I’d have to talk to people, so there’s no way they’re letting me anywhere near the bakery tomorrow.”

  “Singing at the fundraiser’s important, and they’re looking out for you like they should.”

  Annie looked out for everyone else more than she looked out for herself.

  He reached under the desk and pulled out the cardboard box. “I got something to wish you luck.”

  “A present?” The words came out in a whisper, and she took the box from him like it held dynamite. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I wanted to.”

  She was a good friend to him. This was a friendly gift, nothing more. His stomach contracted at the lie.

  Annie set the box on the desk and pulled at the brown paper and tape.

  “I bet you won’t guess what’s inside.” Not if Tara had kept the secret.

  She lifted the lid and pulled out sheets of packing tissue. “It’s . . . you gave me . . .” Her face crumpled, and she took one of the boots and hugged it to her chest.

  “You can’t get up there and sing without a decent pair of boots.” His voice was gruff. “Tara told me your size so they should fit. She also helped me pick out the pair she thought you’d like.”

  “They’re beautiful.” She stroked the soft brown leather with the braided detail up one side, and a tear rolled down her cheeks. “But I can’t accept them. They’re too expensive. I’ve borrowed a pair of Tara’s shoes.” Her voice cracked.

  “There’s no way I’m sending these boots back. You were good to Jake. Consider it a thank you. Besides, Tara told me you can’t walk properly in her shoes, so how are you going to get up on stage and sing?”

  “I’ll manage.” She touched one boot with a gentle finger. “These are perfect, but I still can’t . . .” She stopped and made a choked sound.

  “Hey.” Seth reached over and gave her a one-armed hug. “Don’t cry. Tara said you’d be thrilled. We never meant to upset you.”

  “Tara doesn’t . . .” Annie sniffed and swiped a hand across her face. “Tara doesn’t know, but Hannah’s dad gave me a pair of boots a long time ago. He said if I stuck with him and did what he wanted, I’d make it big in Nashville, and the boots were supposed to be for luck. They weren’t. They didn’t bring me anything but bad luck.”

  Seth flinched at the tortured expression on Annie’s face and hurt in her eyes. He’d like to take out the guy who’d made her look like that—who’d destroyed her self-belief and made her question her talent. “What happened back then is the past. Singing at the fundraiser is a new start. These boots can be part of that. And I’ll be right beside you, along with Hannah.”

  “But what if I fail? Every time I think about it, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

  “You won’t fail as long as you try. And if something doesn’t work out, you’ll pick yourself up and try again.” Like he was doing with Dylan and in Irish Falls. “I’ll ask the bartender at the Black Duck to put a bucket by the mike.” Although he was teasing, Seth kept his voice gentle.

  “Very funny.” She gave him a faint smile and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I thought I was over what happened with Hannah’s dad, but maybe I’m not. He . . .” Her mouth tightened. “He was nice at first. I thought he was the best thing to ever happen to me. But then . . . he changed. By that time, I’d gotten sucked in and couldn’t get out. When I got pregnant, he was so mad. He told me I had to get rid of the baby . . . otherwise . . .” She shivered. “I was young and scared, but I couldn’t.”

  “Did he hurt you? I mean . . . physically?” Seth’s body tensed, and heat flashed through him. The guy had sure hurt her emotionally, but those were the scars that couldn’t be seen. He clenched his fists.

  Her chin jerked.

  “Did you call the police or talk to anyone at your school?”

  She shook her head. “Mom wanted me to, but I didn’t think anyone would believe me. I was so scared and Todd made me feel . . . worthless, stupid even.” Her voice was rough and laced with pain.

  The backs of Seth’s eyes burned and he dug his nails into his palms. “How did you get away from him?”

  “One evening we were at the restaurant where I worked weekends, and Todd was talking to some guys. I slipped out to go the bathroom and then . . . I ran. I took the first chance I had to keep me and my baby safe. Except for my purse, and what I was wearing and the boots on my feet, I left everything else behind in my dorm room. I made it to the bus station and called Mom. She bought me a ticket on the first bus heading north, and I came home. I gave up my scholarship. I was pregnant and sick and couldn’t even take my finals.”

  His stomach rolled. He couldn’t comprehend what Annie’s life had been like then. It was a miracle she’d survived. “You’re an inspiration.” He swallowed. “Hannah’s lucky to have you.”

  “I’m lucky to have her, too.” Her breathing rasped. “She doesn’t know the details, but she knows her dad didn’t want her, or me, either. She knows he wasn’t a good man.”

  “You did what you had to do keep yourself safe.” Seth pushed the words out. His throat was raw, his chest heavy. “And you kept Hannah safe, too. You’re a good mom, and Hannah’s a great girl. That’s all that matters.”

  At least Jake had been part of his life for a little while and he’d cared for his mom when she’d needed him. Even though he’d made some big mistakes, Jake must have cared for him, too. He’d never have left him the station if he hadn’t. It was easy to judge, but he hadn’t walked Jake’s path. And compared to Todd, Jake had been a prince.

  He unclenched his stiff fists. How could a guy treat a woman like Todd had treated Annie? He’d heard stuff like that happened, but he’d never known anyone it had happened to—or at least who’d talked about it happening. He swallowed several times. “Hannah told me her dad had never been in her life. If that’s the case, and if he didn’t come after you right away, he won’t bother you.” Seth’s throat closed again.

  “Maybe so, but I can’t . . . some of that fear is still there, even now.” The words were ripped out of her in a harsh cry. “Todd took a lot of things from me, but there’s no way h
e’ll ever take my daughter.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk and shredded it.

  The heaviness in Seth’s chest spread to his stomach. That was why Annie was as good as hiding out here. “Is what happened with Todd why you stopped singing?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice was low and her expression haunted. “I’d do anything to protect Hannah and singing at this fundraiser—it’s public, you know?”

  Seth sucked in a sharp breath, his heart breaking for her and what she’d gone through. “You haven’t heard from him in what, sixteen years?”

  “Almost seventeen.” There was a new strength in her voice. “I never told him where I came from. Back then, I was ashamed of being from a place like Irish Falls, and I sort of let him think I was from California. He wasn’t interested, so I didn’t talk about my family, but there was also something about him I didn’t trust. I should have listened to my instincts.”

  “You were still smart.” Seth took Annie’s cold hands. “I bet Todd moved on as soon as you left town. He didn’t want a baby, and guys like him are scum. The way he hurt you, he probably hurt other women, too. If he’s not dead, he should be in jail. Did you ever try to find out what happened to him?”

  “Once.” Her mouth twisted. “When Nana Gerry died, she left me some money. I used it to hire a private investigator, but beyond the first few years, and apart from some bars where Todd worked and a band he was part of, nothing else turned up. The PI said maybe Todd was using a different name or Smith wasn’t his real name in the first place. Apparently, it’s surprisingly easy for people to disappear.” Her tone was bitter.

  “Maybe he didn’t want to be found any more than you did.”

  “But even so, how did I get taken in? And once I saw what was happening, why didn’t I leave right away?” Annie’s hands shook. “Todd was handsome and charming, though, and I thought . . . he told me he’d help me make it big and I didn’t need college. I trusted him.”