The Wish List

by Linda Leigh Hargrove

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  Monica broke into a jog, chattering breathlessly as she ran. “I’m so glad you came. Sorry, I lost a contact this morning. I’m blind as a bat. Dreadful but the show must go on.” She laughed it off as she closed the distance between them. “Thank you for coming, Freddie. Follow me, I’ll show you where to put the food. So … Mr. de Sousa isn’t feeling well enough to come. Marc and Chelsea are helping out in Big Red’s art gallery.”

  “Big Red paints art?”

  “Yeah, right. Who knew a former rodeo clown and truck farmer could be so creative and entrepreneurial? I just love it to bits.” Monica’s big blue eyes flashed with humor. “Let’s see. My honey bear, Ciro, will be walking over in a few. He has to close up the restaurant first. The volunteers from the group home just arrived. They’re going to be helping out with the community reading room. The Friends of the Library donated tons of books. Anyway, grab a water and a box dinner and jump right in.”

  The Uber Eats guy paused long enough to Freddie to get a dinner and a bottle of water, then he followed Monica through the building to distribute dinners.

  “Jump right in,” Freddie muttered to herself as she stood in front of Zeus’ darkened office. Her energy drained away at the thought of moving and unpacking boxes.

  Two days ago, when she’d volunteered to help Zeus, she was so motivated. That was before her humiliation of last night. And before she realized she was developing feelings for the man. Otherwise, she probably would not have cared what he said about her business idea.

  She would have just let it roll off her back like all the guff she received from her male co-workers all day long, every single day at her 9-to-5. Her name was Freddie Martinez and she worked in construction, by training sure but also by choice. It was fun and challenging and these were her kind of people. They reminded her family away from real family. Sometimes they said things that cut but they were still family.

  Still family? Her own thoughts were convicting her now.

  I miss you, mija.

  She blinked the tears away and jammed Zeus’ key in his lock. As she stepped across the threshold, she saw a white note card on the floor. She flipped on the light and picked it up.

  Inside someone had written one sentence: I’m sorry for hurting you, Freddie.

  Zeus.

  She placed her things on the desk and let the tears fall unchecked.

  Stop it, chica. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

  A knock on the door startled her. She wiped her face and spun around.

  She gasped at the sight of the tall man. He was much taller than the last time she’d seen him, almost 15 years ago, but there was no mistaking the person standing there with his head turned sideways gazing at her quizzically was Zeus’ younger brother, Ray.

  She felt her pulse race. Why was she reacting this way?

  “Frederica Martinez?” he asked, half smiling, half frowning. “On my goodness. It is you. Man, you look good.” He scratched at the tuft of hair under his bottom lip. “Oops. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. Huh? I just drove in from the airport. Zeus said you were helping him unpack his office stuff.”

  Ray extended his hand toward her. She hesitated. He had caused her major pain. Words from his mouth had wounded her deeper than she cared to admit.

  Just shake his hand, Freddie.

  Her hand stayed glued to her side. Was she trembling?

  Get a grip, girl.

  Eyes wide, he pulled his hand back. “I guess I earned that. The way I used to treat you back in San Antonio. Listen … I was a jerk back in the day. A straight-up bully. I terrorized you. Got kicked out of that STEM camp because of it. Actually, got the beat-down from Zeus because of the way I treated you.”

  “Zeus?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted and switched to Spanish. “He may have been a porker back then, but he was a heavy hitter. Plus, I was shorter than him when I was 15.” He chuckled. “Anyway, I made excuses for my actions for years. Blamed it on the way they treated us Chicanos. But there was no excuse for the way I bullied you. You were smart and cute, and everybody knew you and Zeus … anyway, I was jealous. I’m sorry.”

  She managed a little smile and a nod. “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t you leave this to me?” he said, indicating the stack of boxes against the wall. “I think I can figure out where to put all his computers, marbles, and junk better than anyone.”

  “He always did like his marbles.” Freddie felt the tension ease from her shoulders. “They were like friends to him.”

  Ray walked closer to the boxes and appeared to be reading labels. “Yeah, that was Zeus de Sousa all day long. And he loved you. Probably still does.”

  Freddie blanched at the thought.

  “Oops. I did it again.” Ray laughed as he hefted a laser printer from a box. “Loose lips. When he and I talked yesterday, he said that he thought God brought you two back together. What were the chances, he said, that he would meet up with an ex-NFL player who happened to be getting married to your best friend? I’m not into God like that, you know.” He dusted his hands off and turned to face her. “Don’t let me hold you up, Freddie. Friends?”

  His hand was stretched toward her again.

  Run.

  That’s exactly what she needed to do. Run away. Get in her car and never come back to Wake City. Some wounds of the past were just too painful to address.

  Pregnant.

  The word arrested her; glued her feet to the floor.

  Part of Pastor Kevin’s homily sprang to memory: When we are pressed from every side, we give birth to the thing we’re pregnant with.

  What had she allowed to be implanted in her from so many years ago? Or rather, what had she allowed to grow large there in her heart?

  She had a choice to make. Others like Ray de Sousa had put fear and hatred in her way, but their actions did not have to decide her present state.

  What would she give birth to in this moment? That was hers to decide.

  Chapter 12

  Freddie stretched out her hand and grasped Ray’s. “I forgive you.”

  He drew his hand back and nodded. “Well,” he said with a glance back at the boxes. “I’ve got to make some headway with these boxes tonight. And apparently, I have to begin work on mocking up some apps for an Asian restaurant, a hospital, and a group home for foster kids. New customers thanks to you.”

  “Oh, you’re a programmer?”

  “One of them. Even though I didn’t finish that STEM camp, I followed in my big brother’s footsteps in UTSA. Zeus doesn’t program as much anymore. He’s our boss, and a good one at that. Great head for business. Better with people than me. This is our second satellite in three years.”

  She thought back to his admission days ago in the bookstore. “I kinda run a software company.”

  Humility.

  Ray touched her shoulder gently. “Anyway, thanks for all your hard work for us.”

  “I didn’t do anything special.”

  “You did. And I’m not just talking about marketing Sousa Source. See you around, Freddie.”

  She collected her things, including Zeus’ note, and waved goodbye to Ray. His admission of guilt and sincere apology for bullying her had loosened a band around her heart. She’d grown accustomed to guarding her heart. After years of practice, she had ways to project a detached persona, a fake self. Being that funny chica was one of them.

  Lord, help me be me.

  Ray’s words had hurt in the past but after his apology her heart didn’t feel like a jumble of open oozing sores anymore. Outside, she had been all jokes and the life of the party. Meanwhile inside she was crying, always crying. The hidden crying was finally coming to an end. She felt that deep in her soul.

  For the first time in days, she smiled. Her anguish had been replaced with peace.

  Thank you, Lord.

  Her thoughts returned to Zeus. He had fought his own brothe
r on her behalf. She had to find him, express her gratitude and her love.

  Christmas music blared from the far end of the building. From where she stood, Freddie could see people setting up computers, bookshelves, and office furniture in almost every office space. The atmosphere was festive and charged with excitement over new beginnings.

  She paused, pulled out her phone and texted her mom back: I miss you too, Mami.

  For good measure, just so her mother would know that the old Freddie was on the comeback, she added a string of twenty red hearts.

  “I love you,” she said out loud and clicked the send button.

  Love?

  Was there a chance to patch things up with Zeus? His brother seemed to think so. She was experiencing feelings for him that she’d never felt for another man. When she was 15, it was an attraction based on his abilities in math and science. Closer to awe than love.

  These past few days, she’d felt drawn. Physically and emotionally. And maybe even spiritually pulled in. Until his fateful comment last night, he’d filled a need she didn’t know she had. To know someone deeply and be known in the same.

  “Freddie?” Chelsea’s voice rang out above the Christmas music.

  Freddie looked up to see Chelsea and Monica walking toward her. Monica carried a framed painting.

  “We need your opinion on this,” Monica said with the picture on display.

  “What’s up?” Freddie asked as she squinted at the picture. “What is the painting of?”

  “You’re missing the point,” Monica said with a sigh. “It’s abstract. It’s a mood setter.” She paused for a split second to add air quotes with one hand. Freddie disliked air quotes.

  Monica flipped her hair over her shoulder and kept talking. “This lovely abstract art print is a conversation starter. Not the conversation. It was painted by Carl “Big Red” Barrows of Red Barrel Farms.”

  “Where is this conversation going?” Freddie asked, trying to sound as nonplussed a possible.

  “Roll with it, Freddie,” Chelsea said flashing a smile. “She takes these things seriously.”

  “This is serious,” Monica said and propped her free hand on her hip. “Having Big Red’s print in your Hub office embodies the community of unity that I hope to espouse here in this space.”

  Freddie nodded. “‘Espouse’, nice word. I’m impressed.”

  Chelsea gave Freddie a judgy look. “Be nice, now.”

  “What? This is a special space that I’m trying to create here,” Monica explained, taking in their surrounding with a sweep of her sparkly-nailed free hand. “My dance studio down the hall. Your tiny home boutique, Freddie.”

  “Oh, now, my business is a boutique. I can’t afford this place, Monica.”

  “Hush, Freddie.” Chelsea chided.

  Freddie shrugged. “Just saying.”

  Monica grinned. “Maybe not today but one day. I have faith in you.” She winked at Freddie, and it didn’t make her feel weird. In fact, it made her feel oddly encouraged.

  Maybe...one day.

  The pretty rich white girl kept talking, “So, we’ve got an art studio of a former rodeo clown and truck farmer right across a software company ran by an ex-gamer.”

  “And day trader,” Freddie added.

  Chelsea gasped. “For real? Just like we joked about when we saw him on the street in that black coat?”

  “Yep,” Freddie said. “As I live and breathe.”

  They let Monica’s guided tour continue as they followed from a distance.

  “You seem better,” Chelsea said and linked arms with Freddie.

  “I am.”

  “Like glowy better.”

  “Glowy is not a word, Chels.”

  “It is so.” Chelsea squeezed Freddie’s forearm. “It means having a look of happiness and joy.”

  Freddie squeezed her friend’s arm. “Ow. Someone has had too much caffeine today.”

  “Very funny.” They stopped walking. Monica turned back around.

  “So, what do you think, Freddie?” Monica asked, holding the framed picture up to her chest. “What do you see?”

  Squinting, Freddie tried again. “Well, if it’s mood you’re after, then this puts me in the mood for a hay ride up at Big Red’s farm. Rolling hills, covered with yellow flowers.”

  “Told you,” Chelsea exclaimed.

  “Like it or not,” Monica said, her voice low. “This will go in your business office here in the Hub.”

  Freddie balked. “I told you I can’t afford this place. And if that sticker is really the price on Big Red’s painting, then I can’t afford it either.”

  “Big Red told me that this is yours.”

  “Mine?”

  “Yes. He said he painted it in the field where his first tiny house now sits. The house you built for him.”

  They all squinted at the painting.

  “He calls it Dandelion Fields.”

  “Aww,” Chelsea cooed. “He’s such a precious man.”

  “That’s not all,” Monica said. “He also wants you to be in the Hub come January so he’s using his proceeds from Christmas tree sales this month to pay off his debt to you and anything that’s left will go toward your space rental. He usually does several thousand from his three lots between Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

  Freddie’s jaw dropped. “Thousand? As in dollars?”

  “Big Red is a man of mystery. He also said something about … oh, what was the term he used … relationship marketing.”

  Freddie gulped. This had to be Zeus’ doing.

  “He said, you might be on the struggle bus right now, but things will turn around.” Again, she spoke with air quotes.

  “The struggle bus?” Freddie chuckled, copying Monica’s air quotes. That was an understatement. “That sounds more like ole Big Red.”

  “Bottom line, Freddie,” Monica said. “We want you in the Hub. We need you here.”

  “Aww,” Freddie said, her tone light. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

  “Too late for me,” Chelsea said, wiping moisture from the corner of her eye.

  “I’ll hold this work of art in my office until you’re ready, darlin’. Happy endings for all,” Monica sang out.

  A commotion arose in the coworking area at the end of the building. Some of the youth volunteers were laughing and taking selfies. It didn’t look like there were many books being shelved.

  Monica’s sunny disposition evaporated. “People!” She snapped her fingers, as she moved toward the teens. “Y’all, behave yourselves. You’re supposed to be shelving books.”

  All smiles, she turned back to Freddie and Chelsea. “These young’uns. I don’t know where Marc and my Sugar Lump went. They were supposed to be making sure the kids put books on shelves. Men! It’s up to us women now. Let’s get our coats and take ‘em shopping for Christmas trees.” She winked at Freddie again. “Everybody in Wake City needs a tree tonight. If I can sell Jaguars for my daddy, I can sell a daggum Douglas fir to Millennials like us. C’mon, ladies.”

  While Monica and Chelsea corralled the children and found the menfolk, Freddie stood aside and enjoyed her boxed turkey and swiss on wheat. As she filled her stomach, she reflected on what had happened in the space of an hour.

  In one sense, the trajectory of her life had changed. Her field of dreams was going to become a reality. She tried out a new name in her head: Dandelion Fields Tiny Homes.

  What did this mean to her relationship with her family? Her relationship with Zeus? She didn’t really know for sure.

  One thing was certain, she had to find him tonight and make amends. He hadn’t texted or called her back, though. Only left a short note under the door of his office.

  He knew she’d come even though they had parted on bad terms last night. He was avoiding her, that much was obvious. Was his arm bothering him too much? Ray had talked with him earlier tonight so maybe he was okay.

  Goodne
ss, she was worrying like a… like a girlfriend.

  When the others left for the Christmas tree lot at the center of the downtown Crescent, she followed. She was intent on finding Zeus. What would he think of the new business name?

  Her desire to know propelled her forward.

  Chapter 13

  “Hey, Miss Freddie.”

  It was Lacey from the group home. Reluctantly, Freddie slowed down so the teen could catch up.

  “Hello, Lacey,” Freddie said, impressed with herself that she remembered the young girl’s name. “You don’t have to be so formal. Just call me Freddie.”

  Lacey wagged her head. “No way. Mr. Trey will chew me out.” She glanced at the bald black man walking up ahead.

  “Oh okay,” Freddie said. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “You heard that we’re getting some refugee kids from Mexico, right?”

  “They’re not here yet?”

  “Naw. Something about quarantine. Anyway, I was wondering if you could help me with my Spanish. I think they’ll know English too but see I remember what it was like to come to the home and not know nobody. So, I wanted to help them fit in. I think the oldest is a girl my age.

  “The other day, me and Miss Tessa were talking about how I’ll age out of the home in less than two years. I got to thinking about how I like dancing with Miss Monica dance troupe and I like doing tech stuff with Miss Chelsea but I also like helping people who are hurting. I’m just trying to feel things out. Figure out what God wants me to do with my life. Learning Spanish won’t hurt, you know.”

  Freddie was in awe. Here, she was thinking kids these days were so shallow and self-absorbed.

  “Cool. That’s so nice of you.” Why was she still so nervous, though? “Um…I don’t mind helping. What’s your cell number?”

  As they swapped numbers, Freddie admired the glint of the city lights on the gold accessories twisted around some of her braids. Here, she was getting along with this kid who was nothing like her. She was proud of herself. Even though she and Chelsea had been friends for years, she didn’t know a thing about doing cornrows, but she knew about trying to find her way in this crazy world. “Do y’all have a Christmas tree at the group home yet?”