Wish on the Moon (8 page)

He cupped her elbow and murmured, "Our time's
up. He'll look better in the morning."

When she looked at Mitch, her eyes were
blank, as if she hadn't understood.

"Let's go," he said gently.

She leaned over her father, kissed his cheek,
then let Mitch lead her out. He guided her toward two chairs in the
hall as he concentrated on the practical rather than the compassion
for her creeping around his heart. "Do you need to sit down?"

She nodded. "My knees are a little wobbly."
As she sank onto the orange vinyl chair, her gold triangle earrings
swung. "He was so pale. And all the tubes...I guess it shocked me.
I thought I'd be able to handle it."

She was so damned up front with what she
felt. No excuses. No apologies. How did she do it? Before he
reconsidered, he took her hand.

Although she looked surprised, she didn't
pull away. Instead she asked, "You're not looking forward to the
next six weeks of my being here, are you?"

No, he wasn't. She disturbed his world too
much. Just the twist of her smile could make his pulse leap. It was
crazy! He was feeling crazy because he wanted to hold her in his
arms again like this morning. Ridiculous thought.

Evasiveness was his best bet. "The next six
weeks will be difficult for Ray. We talked about rehabilitation
before his surgery. He doesn't want to use the hospital's program.
When he's ready, a nurse will come to the house three times a week.
He wants to get a treadmill, bicycle and weights and use the
basement as an exercise room."

Mitch believed Ray's recuperation depended on
Laura's involvement and her understanding of what heart surgery
entailed. "Exercise is necessary to his recovery. He can be in
better shape than he ever was. I have some literature if you want
to read it."

"I'd better." She bit her lower lip. "This is
new to me. There's so much more involved than just the surgery.
It's good you already talked about this with him."

"You know your father. He doesn't like
surprises. He wanted everything planned out." That sad look was on
her face again. But a moment later, it was gone and he thought he'd
imagined it. When their gazes locked, he felt a connection with her
that was totally irrational.

Maybe she thought so too because she pulled
her hand from under his and stood. "I need fresh air. Let's go for
a walk." Five minutes later they were outside. The hospital was
spread out. And they had several exits to choose from. Mitch guided
Laura out a back exit.

The fall-fragrant breeze wove around them as
leaves crackled under their feet. Mitch inhaled, taking in the
scent of wood smoke emanating from the circle of houses across from
the hospital. They walked briskly in the lighted areas, up and down
hills, along sidewalks, down macadam paths.

Suddenly Laura stopped and looked up at the
stars. She took in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Isn't
this wonderful?"

"What?"

She waved at the stars and the moon. "The
sky. I don't get a chance to do this often."

"Walk at night?"

"Um hm. After Mandy goes to bed, I usually
have a million things to do."

The moonlight turned Laura's hair into a
golden halo as the nipping breeze tousled it. Her gray eyes
sparkled with silver lights showing her enthusiasm and joy in life.
Any minute he expected her to twirl in a circle like a little girl
and let her poncho fly out around her. How long had it been since
he'd known joy rather than responsibility? Responsibility for a
father who could care less about his younger son, responsibility
for his mother so she didn't have to work so hard, responsibility
for Carey who thought trouble was something to embrace rather than
avoid.

When he'd met Denise, Mitch thought it was
time for a stable relationship. And that's just what it had
been--stable. Until Denise decided she wanted to get her doctorate.
Their break-up hadn't been painless, but it hadn't been...heart
wrenching either. Had they both been too removed, adult, practical?
Had there been joy?

Laura stepped away from Mitch, away from the
shadows of a tall maple, into the moon's full light. "Do you ever
wish on the moon?"

Her profile was perfect. It tugged at him as
much as the fancy of her question. "I thought people wished on
stars."

"The moon's bigger, closer, more
touchable."

"That's not very scientific."

"Neither is wishing. But it works."

"You've studied this phenomenon, of
course."

She glanced at him, her smile small and
mysterious. "Of course. Wishes are like pictures you draw in your
mind. They're always there whether you know it or not, just waiting
to come to life. When you picture something, you can make it
happen."

He regarded her, captivated by her philosophy
and the little girl in her that often appeared. "So what are you
wishing tonight, or can't you tell me?"

"Sure, I can tell you. Then you can wish it,
too. Two wishes are more powerful than one." She stared up at the
moon with enough intensity to brand her wish there permanently. "I
wish Dad back on his feet, healthier than before."

"I'll second that."

She faced him with a mischievous grin. "See
how easy it is? Even for skeptics."

"My life hasn't been what I wished. I have
reason to be skeptical." He remembered the night when reality had
taken over. He'd been five. If he hadn't overheard the argument, if
he could have gone on pretending his father loved him...

"Maybe you just stopped wishing."

Sometimes she was damn clairvoyant. "Maybe."
Unbidden, a vivid wish came to mind--his arms surrounding Laura,
her legs entangled with his. If Laura's theory was right... "We'd
better start back or Mandy will fall asleep again before we get
home."

Laura gave him a measured look then rubbed
her arms under the wide poncho sleeves as she resumed walking.
"Winter's trying to break through. I told George and Anne I'd call
tonight. I'll have to ask them to send warmer clothes for us."

Mitch matched his pace to hers. "By the time
you leave, there will probably be snow on the ground. You'd better
tell them to send boots."

She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "And
gloves. They'll have to go through all my drawers to find them,"
she muttered.

"That doesn't bother you?" Privacy was all
important to him.

"No. They're my family. They accept who and
what I am and would never invade my space to hurt me. I thought you
understood that they're like brother and sister to me."

"I understand that. It's just..."

She tilted her face up. "What?"

"Carey went through my belongings without
regard to my privacy when we were growing up. He knew it bothered
me, so he did it as often as possible." He had never shared that
with anyone.

"Kids are like that."

"He was older and should have known better.
But he never did care much what others thought."

"You sound bitter."

If she had been judgmental or critical, he
would have shut up. But her acceptance led him to ask, "Do I? I
thought I'd left my childhood behind. It pops up when I least
expect it."

"You and your brother don't get along?"

"It's not a matter of getting along." He knew
he was being curt, but to keep the past in the past he had to
dismiss it rather than think or talk about it.

After a short silence, Laura asked, "What do
you do to relax?"

"Relax?"

"Yeah. You know, when you wear jeans and do
something that makes you forget everything else. You do own a pair
of jeans, don't you?" The question definitely held criticism if he
didn't.

"Of course, I do. More than one." The
defensiveness in his voice irritated him.

"And what do you do when you have them on?"
she probed with a sideways glance.

"Wash the car, run errands, sketch."

"That sounds like work to me," she scolded.
"What about roller skating, tobagonning, dancing, tag?"

"Tag?" He zippered his leather jacket and
wondered if he was trying to insulate himself from the weather or
her interest.

"Mandy loves when I chase her around the
yard, roll in the grass, jump in the leaves."

He could see her and her daughter doing just
that. Uninhibited, playful, laughing. God! Had he ever felt like
that? Was this the part of Laura that called to him like the
Siren's ancient song? "Having a child around helps you relax."

"I'd make time for it even if I didn't have
Mandy." She spared him another quick look. "You should try it."

"I don't have time--"

"Hogwash." She waved her hands and said
vehemently, "That's what my dad always said. And look where it got
him. You're still young enough to learn."

Relaxing wasn't on his priority list.
Designing brought him pleasure, the business a sense of
achievement. He told himself he didn't need anything else. "You
can't teach an old dog new tricks."

"Maybe not. But you can teach an old dog
different tricks. Besides, you're nowhere near being old."

"Thirty-six isn't young."

"Like you told your mother, you're only as
old as you think you are," she repeated smugly.

He felt like he was trying to beat off a lion
with a toothpick. "Don't you miss anything?"

Her smile was pure deviltry. "Not much.
C'mon. I'll race you to the front of the building."

She sprinted off and left him standing. He
started after her and moments later overtook her, his legs pumping
easily, his arms swinging in cadence with his stride. When she
arrived at the portico, panting, he casually crossed one ankle over
the other, propped against the brick wall, and suppressed a grin.
"You fell a little behind."

She leaned against the wall only a few inches
from him. "My poncho kept tangling in my legs."

He clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"Excuses, excuses."

She wrinkled her nose at him and jabbed him
in the ribs with her elbow. "We did it for fun. Not to see who'd
win."

She was so close, her hair mussed, her face
flushed. He was sure she'd look like this after making
love--glowing, vibrant, her hair jumbled from his fingers, her skin
pink and damp from kissing and arousal. Her breaths were still
coming fast. Her scent mingled with the night air and radiated from
her with the heat of their run.

He turned toward her and propped his hand on
the wall above her shoulder. "Was it fun?"

Her eyes dropped to his lips and her voice
was low. "Sure. The wind in my face, the release of energy, the
moon streaking through the leaves..."

If he leaned any closer, their bodies would
touch. Desire stirred and pulsed its demand. When her tongue
sneaked out and wet her bottom lip, he almost groaned. Her pupils
were dark, almost overtaking the gray. If he merely touched her
cheek...

Laura was afraid to move when Mitch's fingers
brushed her cheek. Every nerve vibrated and hot feelings blazed
through her. She forgot Mitch wasn't her type. She wanted him to
kiss her more than she wanted to breathe. She wanted to teach him
how to enjoy everyday pleasures, to look for excitement. She was
excited now. And scared. If a relationship developed between them,
it would be complicated by her father, Mitch's perceptions about
her, her six week stay. But it felt so good to be attracted to
Mitch, to experience the thrill of arousal, to want to touch a man
again and have him touch her.

The sliding glass doors to the visitors'
entrance whirred open. Mitch stepped back and away. Laura's
disappointment plunged deep, shaking her. She was feeling too much,
too fast. She wasn't a teenager any longer, she was a rational
adult.

So was Mitch. The problem was he acted like
it, she thought, as he pulled himself up straight and tall, his
eyes denying the closeness they'd just experienced.

***

Nora and Mandy were building a bridge with
wooden blocks when Mitch and Laura returned to the house. As soon
as they walked into the kitchen, Nora asked, "How is he?"

Her worry for Ray touched Laura. It seemed to
be more than concern for a stranger and she wondered again how well
Nora knew her father. "He's doing as well as can be expected." The
lump in her throat threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Before it
could, she hugged her daughter and tickled her.

Mandy giggled. "Don't, Mommy. My bridge will
fall down."

Mitch came around to Mandy's other side,
turned the chair beside her around and straddled the seat, his arms
crossed on the top rung. He studied every angle of the structure.
"It's a sturdy bridge. You and Mom do good work. Maybe when you
grow up, you can build real bridges."

So...something else learned about Mitch,
Laura thought. He believed a man or a woman could be whatever they
dreamed. Interesting.

Mandy shook her head. "I want to be a
ballerina."

"This week," Laura mumbled. "Last week she
wanted to be an animal doctor."

Nora rose and stepped away from the table.
"Mitch, why don't you help Mandy build a tower while I talk to
Laura."

His brows lifted but he didn't comment.

Curiously Laura followed Nora to the living
room. She asked immediately, "Is something wrong? I'm sorry we
weren't back sooner. If you want to go home now--"

Nora's fingers moved nervously. She sat on
the edge of the sofa, looking hesitant to speak her mind. "I don't
want to go home. I...I mean...today and yesterday I felt...useful
again. The kids at the day care center are always glad to see me
but that's just a few hours two days a week. Since I stopped
working, I have a lot of time on my hands. Mitch doesn't want me to
work but he doesn't understand."

From the little Mitch had said, Laura guessed
Nora had had a hard life and he wanted to make it as easy for her
as he could now. She admired him for that, but she also realized he
wasn't tuned in to his mother's feelings.