Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes (24 page)

Tears trickled from the corner of her eye, across the bridge of her nose and dripping to the blanket beneath us. Her lip quivered as she struggled to speak. “You gave me you.”

The dam of tears broke again and I cried softly, grateful for the love I didn’t deserve because the gift of me didn’t seem to be enough.

Chapter Seventeen

I took a nap on the blanket, a short one, but long enough to make me feel groggy and slightly muddled. Muffy lay next to me, her face on her paws, soft snores coming from her tiny body. Leave it to me to not only get a farting dog but a snoring one, too. But she was a good dog and I was grateful she was mine. I reached my hand over and scratched the back of her neck.

Lying there with the soft breeze tickling my skin, I realized this is what people meant when they said
it’s the little things in life
. I felt the tears returning. Enough tears. There wasn’t enough time left to waste on tears.

When the kids woke up, we loaded everyone into the minivan and headed to Violet’s house. It didn’t take much convincing to get Ashley to jump on her trampoline in her backyard with me, especially considering she had begged me to jump many times before. When we tired of jumping, we played dress up. Ashley gave me a makeover, placed a tiara on my head and we paraded around the house using our princess waves. Afterward, I convinced Violet to teach me the basic elements of knitting.

“Now? Let’s do it next week.”

“No,” I said a little too abruptly.

Violet narrowed her eyes. “What’s the rush?”

I’m going to die on Sunday and it’s on my list of things I wish to do before I die
didn’t sound like an appropriate answer. I shrugged then tried Ashley’s puppy face. “Please?”

Violet laughed, “I need to get dinner started.”

“Just a few steps…”

“Stitches.”

“Just a few stitches. Please?”

Violet relented and thankfully I was a fast learner.

“What do you want to make?” she asked as I cast a long row of uneven stitches.

“I dunno, a scarf?”

“That’s pretty easy. You keep up at that pace and you could be done in a couple of weeks.”

I didn’t have a couple of weeks, but that didn’t matter. I just needed to learn how to knit.

I washed my face before I left. I would have just enough time to make sure my house had been put together before Joe showed up.

When we got home, Muffy sniffed around our yard, reacquainting herself with the territory and marking all the appropriate places. I pulled the keys from under the mat as Joe pulled in.

“Please don’t tell me you had those keys under your rug,” he said as he got out of the car.

“Okay, then I won’t.”

He groaned as he walked over. He looked dirty, his hair a scroungy mess. Streaks of grease covered his hands and ran up his arms. He smelled of sweat and gasoline. As crazy as it was, I had never seen him sexier.

“Why would you do such a thing?” he asked, but not in his usual bossy tone.

“It was only this one time. The cleanin’ ladies left them under the mat since I wasn’t home when they finished.”

“Cleanin’ ladies? Why would you need a cleanin’ lady? Your house is spotless.”

I shrugged. I really didn’t want to go into the morning’s events. “Maybe I should have sent them over to your house instead, since it’s so messy and all.”

He laughed but sounded a little uneasy. “Yeah…what do you want to eat?”

I unlocked the door and turned around to face him. “I really don’t have much food to cook.” I didn’t really see the purpose in making a grocery store run at this point.

He leaned on the side of the house, trapping me against the door. “Who needs food?”

I pushed against his chest, “You’re nothin’ but a big tease, Joe McAllister. You have no intention of givin’ me what I want.”

He kissed me and I silently cursed his ability to make me forget what I was arguing about.

“I’ll give you everythin’ you want and more… on Monday.”

“Argh!” I growled as I turned around and opened the door. “That still doesn’t solve our dinner dilemma.”

“We can order out and have it delivered. What sounds good?”

“Chinese,” I said the first thing that popped into my head. I’d never had Chinese food and it was on my list. Momma said she wouldn’t eat food made by communists.

He smiled, a real smile, not his usual teasing or taunting smirk. It made him look like a boy, the way his eyes sparkled. I smiled up at him like an idiot, lost in his eyes. They were a dark brown, but I could see little flicks of almost black scattered around his pupils. I realized he had asked me a question.

I cringed, giggling. “Sorry, I was caught up in the view.” My boldness amazed me, but at this point, I had nothing to lose.

He actually looked embarrassed and his cheeks turned red.

I laughed. Joe McAllister blushing. That was a sight I never expected to see. “Obviously, I didn’t hear your question.”

“Do you want to order it? I need to take a shower.” He stretched his arms out from his sides to emphasis his point.

The image of Joe in the shower popped into my head, which didn’t help anything. I shook my head to clear it. “Yeah, sure. I can order. What do you want?”

A slow smile spread across his face, but he answered, “Kung Pao Chicken.”

I repeated it in my head several times so I’d remember. “Go take your shower you big tease, then come back over.”

I walked into the kitchen, unsure what I’d find but it looked put together. Then I got out the phone book, which had seen a lot of action in the last couple of days. I had no idea what to order, but the restaurant had a menu printed in the phone book. I knew I liked beef and I liked broccoli, so beef and broccoli seemed like a safe bet. They said they’d deliver the order in thirty minutes.

I was still a bit damp from the afternoon, so I put on another pair of lingerie, the lavender set, and threw on a skirt and blouse. I checked my hair in the bathroom. It looked flat and lifeless, but I didn’t see the point of doing anything other than fluffing it a bit. I didn’t have on any makeup, not that I usually did, but I wanted to look good for Joe. I carefully put on some mascara, which I was still getting the hang of, and some blush.

Joe still hadn’t returned so I checked Momma’s room. All the photos and items were deposited back where they belonged. I grabbed a box and sat on the bed and pulled a photo off the top. It was a picture of the four of us at Violet’s graduation. Momma and Daddy flanked a beaming Violet, in her blue cap and gown. Momma’s stern face overshadowed Daddy’s, with his vacant eyes. I stood on Daddy’s right, staring off to the side. I remembered that day. I’d watched Uncle Earl, wishing I was with him instead of my own family. Hearing that Aunt Bessie had wanted to raise me was a surprise. I couldn’t help but think how differently my life would have turned out if that had happened. But to live with them would have meant leaving Violet. I was glad I stayed, in spite of all the pain.

I pulled out the next photo. They were all out of order now and this one was Violet and me, when we were little, standing in front of a Christmas tree. I didn’t remember that Christmas, but we looked to be about five and three, in our flannel pajamas and holding our baby dolls. We looked happy, ear to ear smiles on our faces. Why couldn’t I remember that? A happy time?

Tears filled my eyes again, as I pulled out the next photo. Daddy and me, in the backyard. He was kneeling, planting flowers. Six-year-old Rose looked happy but I saw something missing in my eyes. No wonder I didn’t have friends when I was little. I looked like a zombie.

I wore a pair of gloves and held a small garden shovel, ready to help Daddy. I studied his face, searching for any signs of regret. It was amazing how using a new filter to view your life could change your perception. I wondered how he could stand by and watch Momma do what she did for all those years. The tears fell down my cheeks. I was so tired of crying. I sniffed and wiped one cheek with the back of my hand, startled to see Joe standing in the doorway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He moved toward me and sat on the bed, wrapping an arm around my back. “I came in the kitchen and you weren’t there, so I decided to look for you. Why’re you cryin’?” He looked down at the photo. “Is that you?” He took the picture from my hand, getting a closer look. “And that must be your dad. I see the resemblance.”

For some reason that made me cry harder.

“Hey,” he said, wiping away my tears. “What’s wrong?”

“What would you do if you found out your entire life was a lie?”

His face lost all expression. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I don’t want to spend any more time thinkin’ about it.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble, Rose? Tell me, maybe I can help you.”

I shook my head. “I’ve got more trouble this week than most people have in a lifetime. But it doesn’t matter, after Sunday it won’t matter.”

“What happens Sunday?”

His eyes looked so kind, like he really cared. Maybe I could tell him. I was tired of keeping this secret to myself. My eyes welled up again, to my dismay. “You’d never believe me if I told you. I can’t even tell Violet.”

“Your sister? Why can’t you tell Violet?”

“I don't want to scare or worry her.”

He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him. “You won't scare me. I might be worried but I can take it. I’m good at workin’ out problems. Maybe I can help you with yours.”

I wanted to believe him. If only I could find a way out of this. I sniffed. “I’m afraid if I tell you, you won’t like me anymore.” If I told him I had visions, he’d think I was a freak, just like everyone else. Or he’d call me a liar. I didn’t like either alternative.

“No, Rose, I swear. There’s nothing you can say that will make me not like you.”

I wavered, so tempted. What was the worst that could happen? He ran screaming and never looked back. But I liked having him around; I didn’t want to lose him.

He stroked my cheek with his hand. “You don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you.” His last words were soft and soothing, like a caress.

I closed my eyes and leaned my cheek into his hand. It felt so good to be touched. I risked losing this if I told him. I might not get the opportunity again before Sunday.

“I really like you, Rose. This isn’t just physical. I like
you
but we can’t make this work if you won’t be honest with me.”

That made me cry harder. He only reminded me of what I would never have.

“Hey, hey. That wasn't supposed to make you cry. I thought you liked me too.”

“I do.”

“Then trust me.”

Trust was a tricky thing. Usually the person asking for the trust had to prove they were worthy to receive it. Had Joe proven himself trustworthy?

The doorbell rang.

Joe groaned his frustration. “Wait here. I’ll get it.”

I watched him jump up and walk out of the room then followed a few seconds behind. I didn't want to be in this room full of painful memories anymore.

Joe paid for our food. I went into the bathroom, disturbed to see my mascara had smeared beneath my eyes. Maybe that was why I never wore the stuff. I grabbed a washrag out of the linen closet, which reminded me of the intruder that morning. Joe must have been on the same wavelength. He stood in the partially open door and leaned against the frame.

“Why are there holes in your walls?” he asked quietly, but I knew him well enough now to hear the undercurrent of irritation.

I wet the washrag and swiped beneath my eyes. “From the intruder.”

“I thought they never got inside. I thought you said they fell out the window.”

“You ask too many questions, Joe. How come you're the one asking all the questions and never answering any?”

“Fine, try asking one.”

“Fine.” I turned to face him, leaning my hip into the edge of the counter. “I don't even know what you do. What’s your job?”

“I never tried to keep that from you. You just never asked.”

It was true. I never had. “So what is it?”

“I’m a mechanic.”

That made sense, considering how his hands and arms had been covered in grease.

“Why did you move here?”

“I needed a change.”

“Why?”

He got a sheepish look on his face. “Girlfriend issues.”

“Hilary?”

“Yeah.” He didn't say anything else.

I shot him a look of frustration. “Seriously, can’t you volunteer anything?”

He groaned, grabbing my hand, and pulled me into the kitchen. “We dated for a couple of years. Okay, we lived together at the end. But it didn't work out so not only did I move out, I moved away.” He started pulling the containers out of the bag and setting them on the table.

I got a couple of glasses out of the cabinet. “But why Henryetta? Most people want
out
of Henryetta, not in.”

He tilted his head to the side in a half-shrug. “There was a job here and I needed a job.”

“So why did Hilary show up?”

He stopped and rested the back of his legs against the table. The kitchen was small enough that he could grab my arm and tug me toward him. He pulled me to his chest and looked into my eyes, brushing the hair off my cheek. “I didn’t invite her here. She invited herself. She wasn’t my girlfriend at that point, although she hoped to be when she left. But I sent her away, Rose. It made me furious when she told you she was my girlfriend. I would have sent her away that night, but I tried to be courteous and I let her spend the night, in a separate room. She left the next day. You saw that.”