The Twenty-First Wish

by Debbie Macomber

He was silent for a moment. “It must’ve slipped my mind, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “If it is, I can ask April’s mother…. That might work even better now that I think of it. I’d like to set up a babysitting exchange with her.”

  “I said I’d do it,” Tim said. His mouth thinned. “We’ll get dinner and go to a movie.”

  “Okay, then.” She walked over to another shelf, dismayed when Tim followed her.

  “I thought we should discuss this parenting plan you mentioned.”

  “Yes, but now isn’t the best time to do that.”

  “Well, whenever it’s convenient. Just let me know.” Still, he lingered. “So, everything’s fine between you and Mel?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke. Then, since she’d practically melted in his arms less than twenty-four hours earlier, she felt the need to add, “I hope you’ll look past what happened at the lake because I’d like to forget the entire incident.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “I do.” She turned to face him, and he boldly met her eyes.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not finding it that easy.” He paused, his silence heavy with meaning. “Those kisses were pretty…revealing, Anne Marie.”

  She laughed off his comment and lowered her voice. “Okay, so I’m human. You’re hot and so are your kisses—I’ll admit it. But when I realized what it was all about, I came to my senses.”

  “You really believe I’d manipulate you like that?” He stiffened and his shoulders arched back, as though he was flinching from a physical attack.

  “I…believe you love Ellen and will do whatever it takes to ensure that she stays in your life,” she said evenly, moving about the store, straightening a book here, adjusting a poster there.

  Tim trailed behind her.

  “It happened before, Tim. What else am I to think?” Then, hoping to lighten the conversation, she murmured, “Don’t get me wrong, our kiss was…nice.” She shrugged carelessly. “I find your company enjoyable. Who wouldn’t?”

  “But you’d rather spend time with Mel?”

  She wasn’t sure she could pull this off much longer. “Let’s put it this way. Mel and I have been dating for months. We get along beautifully and he’s good to Ellen.”

  Tim shoved his hands in his pockets. “You get along with me, too, and I’m crazy about Ellen.”

  “This is obviously some kind of competition between you and Mel.”

  He glared at her, eyes narrowed and lips tensed. Anne Marie could see that it was taking all the self-control he possessed not to explode in anger. “This all goes back to not telling you about Vanessa, doesn’t it?”

  Anne Marie felt the heat of embarrassment invade her face. Even her ears started to burn. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

  “Shakespeare sure got it right,” he muttered.

  “Shakespeare got a lot of things right. Which particular one are you referring to?”

  “Hell has no fury like a woman scorned.”

  Anne Marie blinked. “First,” she snapped, unable to resist correcting him, “that wasn’t Shakespeare. It was William Congreve, a Restoration playwright. And second…if this is what you want to think, then you’re free to do so.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Anne Marie. So you remember your literary references better than I do. Congratulations. Kudos to you. But say what you like—we both know what happened at the lake was real. Real for me and real for you. If you want to tell yourself I have some twisted ulterior motive, then go ahead.”

  Clenching her fists, she blurted out, “I made a fool of myself over you.” She glanced anxiously at Teresa, who was at the other side of the store, although still within hearing distance.

  “And you love turning the tables on me now.”

  “No.” She wanted that to be perfectly clear.

  He shook his head. “I’ve never lied to you. Never,” he said emphatically.

  “Fine, if that’s what you want to tell yourself. However, I feel that a lie of omission is still a lie.” She couldn’t help it; her arms began to flail about and her voice rose. “You let me build up this romantic fantasy and then after months—yes, months—you conveniently remember to mention that you’re engaged.” This whole scene was mortifying, but her anger and sense of betrayal overcame her embarrassment.

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  “What were you supposed to do?” she mimicked in singsong fashion. “Well, telling the truth comes to mind. Couldn’t you see that I was…attracted to you?”

  “Yes. Anne Marie, I saw it and I agonized over it. Listen…” Tim walked away from her, then returned. “I realized how you felt—but I was afraid that if I said anything, you wouldn’t let me see Ellen.”

  “You don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you?”

  “I didn’t know you. My daughter, a daughter I’d only just found out about, had been taken away from me. I was left without any legal recourse. I had one opportunity to win you over and I—”

  “Are you telling me you deliberately led me on?” This was too much!

  “No! Now you’re purposely distorting everything I say.”

  The frustration they were both feeling was almost more than either of them could take. Tim had raised his voice to match hers.

  “It might be best if we had this conversation some other time,” she said quietly, afraid their argument was keeping customers at bay. Several people had entered the store, but hadn’t yet ventured beyond the displays near the front.

  “Good idea.” He whirled around and stormed out.

  When Tim had left, Anne Marie began to shake. She placed her hands on the nearest bookshelf and slowly exhaled. She took several deep breaths, trying to control her emotions.

  Teresa approached her. “Are you okay?” she asked tentatively.

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Anne Marie nodded. She simply couldn’t respond to Teresa’s sympathy, afraid she might burst into tears.

  “Do you know who you remind me of?” Teresa asked.

  “No.” Furthermore, Anne Marie didn’t care.

  “My husband and me. That’s the way we fight, too, but then we always make up afterward. You and Tim will reconcile and it’ll be really good when you do. Mark my words.”

  Anne Marie was too upset to even think in terms of reconciliation. Not knowing what to expect, she made contingency plans for Ellen for Friday night. April’s mother was available to fill in, if necessary.

  As it turned out, Anne Marie didn’t need her. Tim arrived soon after she and Ellen got home.

  Ellen let him in, with Baxter dancing excitedly around them both.

  “How’re you doing, sweetheart?” he asked his daughter. “Hi, Baxter.”

  He hugged Ellen, then straightened when he saw Anne Marie. Holding her gaze, he intentionally resumed speaking to his daughter. “I understand we have a date tonight.”

  “A date?” Ellen said, sounding pleased.

  “I’m taking you out for dinner and a movie.”

  “Do I get popcorn, too?”

  “As much as you want.”

  Ellen grinned at Anne Marie. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll eat my vegetables at dinner.”

  “Good girl.” Anne Marie felt bad about her argument with Tim earlier and took a hesitant step into the room. Mel would be here any minute, however, and with Ellen still standing in the hallway, she couldn’t talk to Tim about what had happened. And really, what was there to say? All she knew was that the lump in her throat had stayed with her all afternoon.

  “When will you have Ellen back?” she asked.

  His eyes refused to meet hers. “Nine, nine-thirty. Depends on how late the movie ends and traffic afterward.”

  “Okay… I don’t expect to be home before ten-thirty or eleven.”

  He nodded. “Ready to go, Ellen?”

  “Yes!” She ran to grab her sweater—one Lydia had knit for her with a Yorkie
on the back.

  Tim opened the screen door.

  “Have fun, you two,” Anne Marie said. She scooped the dog into her arms and raised one hand in farewell.

  “You, too.” Tim paused, looking at her. “I mean that,” he said, his voice low enough so only she could hear.

  He seemed to be saying he regretted their argument as much as she did. Anne Marie wanted to believe that. Her lip quivered and she bit it hard, unwilling to give way to tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He nodded and then, head down, walked out the door.

  Mel appeared soon after Ellen and Tim had left. He kissed Anne Marie’s cheek, then slid his arms around her, saying, “I adore Ellen, but it’s been too long since it was just the two of us.” His peck on the cheek had surprised her. She’d anticipated a real kiss, had actually hoped for one. She wanted to have strong feelings for Mel.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “It’s been ages.” She rested her head on his shoulder. She felt content in his embrace. Comforted. Unfortunately, there were none of the sparks she’d experienced with Tim, none of the heady rush of emotion. Mel was gentle, kind, honest. He would never mislead anyone.

  In a word, Mel was safe. Anne Marie needed safe and so did Ellen.

  The production of Jersey Boys proved to be everything Anne Marie had read and more. The music brought back memories of Robert, of dancing and laughing with the husband she’d loved, but unlike a few years ago, those memories offered more happiness than sorrow and deepened her enjoyment of the play. The story itself was the classic American tale of opportunity and success and the cost of fame.

  “Thank you,” she said when he’d driven her home, “for a lovely, lovely evening.” Mel’s arm was around her shoulders.

  A sense of dread settled over her, dissipating her pleasure and her serenity, when she saw Tim’s car parked out front. She felt Mel stiffen.

  “I’d forgotten Tim had Ellen for the night,” he said.

  Anne Marie merely nodded, and Mel, apparently, had nothing more to say on the subject of Tim.

  He escorted Anne Marie to the front door, but to her disappointment didn’t seem eager to stay. “Coffee?” she suggested, hoping he’d accept…yet hoping he wouldn’t.

  “No, but I’ll see you in.”

  Anne Marie wasn’t fooled. Mel didn’t want to abandon her to Tim and frankly she was just as glad. If she was alone with Tim they might start talking again. They might kiss again, and if they did, she’d be lost….

  Tim came to the door, almost as if he’d been waiting for her, longing for her return. He smiled—until he saw Mel. He looked away, immediately removing his jacket from the hall closet.

  “Welcome home,” he said as he pushed his arms through the sleeves.

  “Thank you. How did everything go with Ellen?”

  “We had a great time.” Tim nodded once in Mel’s direction. “Good to see you, Mel.”

  “You, too, Tim.”

  Both men were being polite in the extreme.

  Without another word, Tim let himself out, closing the door quietly behind him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  April 29

  None of my plans for dealing with Tim have panned out. In fact, everything seems to have backfired. I resolved to put him completely out of my mind, but all I do is think about him…and about the possibility of him, Ellen and me together. I know how foolish that is, but I can’t make myself stop. It’s definitely time to pay Lydia a visit and start a new project. If ever I needed a distraction, it’s now. I wonder if doctors realize how therapeutic yarn can be….

  Not surprisingly, Anne Marie spent a sleepless night. On Saturday she was scheduled to work half a day at the bookstore. Ellen accompanied her, planning to visit her friends along Blossom Street—Lydia and Alix and Susannah and others—with Baxter in tow.

  As they drove into town that morning, Anne Marie lost count of the number of references Ellen made to her evening with Tim, especially the Thai dinner they ate in a booth where they had to take off their shoes. The movie afterward had been the latest 3-D animation and Ellen described the plot to her no less than five times.

  “Lydia said we should stop by A Good Yarn when you’re finished working.” Ellen hurried into the bookstore just before noon, Baxter bouncing beside her. “We can go there, can’t we?”

  “Yes, I was planning to.” Anne Marie hoped to have another chat with her friend; Saturdays were often the busiest day of the week, however, and that might not work out. “I thought I’d pick up some yarn for my new project.”

  “Which project? The wedding one?” Knitting had become a bond, a subject of common interest between them, and Ellen almost always knit something right along with her.

  “Yes, I was thinking I could knit Courtney something.”

  “What about a veil?” Ellen said.

  That project was a lot more daunting than Anne Marie wanted to tackle. “She probably already has her veil. But Lydia gave me a pattern book and I found a bride’s purse I liked. I’d use a cotton yarn with some metallic threads shot through it.”

  “A bride’s purse?” Ellen repeated, her eyes glowing. “That sounds pretty.”

  “It would have a drawstring and hang from her arm. Courtney could use it on her wedding day.”

  As she’d expected, Lydia was busy with customers when Ellen and Anne Marie entered the shop. A large table was set up in the back, with pattern books stacked close by. The table was used for classes, too. Everyone who visited the shop seemed to gravitate to this natural meeting place.

  Anne Marie chose another pattern book, one devoted to weddings, then pulled out a chair and sat down. She flipped through several pages until she located another bride’s purse. She decided she preferred this one, but wanted Lydia’s opinion—and Ellen’s.

  Ellen was at the front of the store petting Whiskers. Baxter and Whiskers tolerated each other and Anne Marie suspected cat and dog were better friends than they let on. Ellen held Baxter on her lap while she stroked the sleeping cat.

  Lydia rang up a yarn sale, then joined Anne Marie. “I was just thinking I could use a break. Elise,” she called out to the older woman who helped out on weekends, “could you take over for a few minutes?”

  “Of course.”

  Lydia sat in the chair across from her, smiling tiredly. “How are you?”

  Anne Marie shrugged. Usually people who asked that were simply being polite. All they wanted to hear was “Fine.” That wasn’t the case with Lydia.

  “I’m coping,” Anne Marie said. “Things are…confusing.”

  “I thought something was up. Tim parked in front of my store on Thursday. He went across the street, read Winter’s specials on the board and then headed over to the bookstore.”

  “Did you see him when he left?” Anne Marie asked.

  “I did,” Lydia said. “And it was a different story entirely.”

  “He looked like a man ready to commit murder, right?”

  “No,” Lydia said softly. “But it didn’t take much to see that he was upset. He stood outside his car for a few minutes, then banged his fist on the hood. After that he talked on his cell.”

  Anne Marie wondered whom he’d phoned. Then in a flash it came to her. He’d called his AA sponsor. Tim had mentioned the other man numerous times without ever revealing his identity. She was glad he had someone he could talk to whenever he felt the need. She envied him that, although she had friends of her own. Good friends, like Lydia, Barbie and Lillie.

  “Mel and I went out last night.”

  “So I heard,” Lydia said, glancing at Ellen, who still sat in the window, petting Whiskers with Baxter curled on her lap.

  “We had a wonderful time.”

  “You always seem to when you’re with Mel.”

  “He’s so good to me and Ellen.”

  “But you aren’t in love with him, are you?”

  “No,” Anne Marie had to admit. She understood what she found attractive about Mel. Her heart wasn’t at risk
with him. He couldn’t hurt her the way Robert had when he’d had his affair—or when he’d died. The shock of both had left Anne Marie emotionally bruised, not quite as resilient as she’d once been. Not only that, she’d met Mel shortly after learning about Tim and Vanessa.

  Lydia continued to study her.

  “Earlier this week Mel asked me where he stood. I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with him.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Lydia said. “The one you haven’t been honest with is you.”

  “I think I might learn to love Mel, given time,” she said. He cared about her and Ellen. While he’d never spoken the words aloud, he showed his feelings in a dozen different ways. Not for an instant did she doubt him. Yes, he was almost twenty years her senior, but that had never bothered her. He’d do anything for her; all she had to do was ask.

  “I agree,” Lydia said thoughtfully. “Love is a choice. It certainly becomes a choice once the intensity of first love passes and you settle into everyday life. I choose to love Brad every single morning and I’m grateful that he chooses to love me back.”

  Anne Marie was impressed by her friend’s marriage. Lydia and Brad’s relationship was strong enough, solid enough, to include Casey, who’d been a difficult and troubled girl. Lydia had told her that Ellen’s adoption had influenced their own decision to bring Casey into their family.

  “Whatever your decision about Mel,” Lydia said, “it’ll be the right one.”

  Anne Marie stayed for tea and then picked out yarn and the new pattern for the bride’s purse.

  “I want to knit the same bride’s purse as you. That’s okay, isn’t it?” Ellen asked before they left the store.

  “Of course.”

  “Can I knit it without the beads?”

  “If you want, but adding the beads isn’t hard. Lydia and I can show you how.”

  “Okay.”

  “Who will you give the purse to?” Anne Marie asked. She didn’t think Courtney would need two purses. Maybe Ellen wanted it for herself, for the fantasies she and April played at.

  Instead of answering, Ellen asked another question, this one directed toward Lydia. “Can I knit it in pink?”