The Twenty-First Wish

by Debbie Macomber

  “Sure thing,” Lydia answered, and led her to the shelf that housed the fingering-weight cashmere yarns. Ellen chose a light rose color.

  “Mom likes pink. Right, Mom?”

  “I do indeed,” Anne Marie said absently, still focused on her conversation with Lydia.

  Stepping over to the cash register, Lydia rang up the purchase. “That was a good choice,” she assured Ellen. “If you have any problems, your mom can help.”

  “More than likely I’ll be the one going to her,” Anne Marie said with a laugh.

  Ellen was quiet on the ride home. “Can I go to April’s house with Baxter?” she asked.

  “That’s okay as long as it’s all right with her mother.” When they reached the house, Anne Marie phoned Natalie, April’s mom, and learned that April had been at odds all morning, waiting for Ellen’s return. Ellen had taught her to knit, and April was stuck and needed guidance. After a quick lunch, Ellen was out the door.

  Anne Marie stood on the porch, watching her daughter race down the street, knitting bag in one hand, Baxter’s leash in the other.

  It seemed impossible that they’d moved only a week ago. Anne Marie had plenty to do and intended to stay busy. If she spent the afternoon sorting and unpacking, maybe she’d stop thinking about Tim and Mel.

  Mel phoned midafternoon, inviting her and Ellen on an outing to the zoo Sunday afternoon. Anne Marie had taken Ellen to Woodland Park Zoo three or four times already, and since Monday was a school day, she decided a quiet afternoon might be best.

  Mel accepted her decision graciously and didn’t press the point, which struck her as a little unusual.

  Not until she ended the conversation did she wonder what her reaction would have been had Tim suggested the outing. Mel might’ve hoped she’d recommend something else. She hadn’t. Neither had he.

  The fact was, she didn’t feel any excitement, any compulsion about being with Mel. Not the way she felt about being with Tim….

  Only he didn’t phone.

  For the rest of the afternoon, she waited to hear from him. When the phone did ring, around five, Ellen answered; it was obviously one of her friends.

  “What’s for dinner?” her daughter asked an hour later.

  “What would you like?” Before Ellen could respond she added, “Not pad thai, and nothing with peanut sauce.”

  Ellen laughed. “I had that yesterday. I wasn’t going to ask for it now. Can we have spaghetti?”

  “Sure.” Thankfully, that was quick and easy. Anne Marie wasn’t in the mood to cook, or, for that matter, eat.

  They were seated at the table for dinner when Ellen said, “Dad’s eating at Grandma and Grandpa Carlsen’s tonight.”

  “You spoke to Tim?”

  Ellen nodded as she reached for the Parmesan cheese and sprinkled it liberally over her noodles. “That was him on the phone a while ago.”

  Anne Marie immediately lost what little appetite she had. Tim hadn’t asked to speak to her. She toyed with the noodles, swirling them around her fork, but had no interest in her own cooking.

  “Can we start knitting the bride’s purse tonight?” Ellen asked.

  “Sure,” she said, hoping her voice betrayed none of her disappointment.

  “Good.” Ellen ate with relish, seeming to enjoy every bite. “I told Dad I saw you.”

  “Saw me?”

  “Kissing,” she said, and giggled. “You and Dad. You thought I was asleep but I woke up. We were in the car, remember?”

  “Ah…”

  “That day at the lake.”

  Anne Marie knew precisely when it had happened. “What did your father say?”

  “Nothing at first, then he sort of laughed and said you were a good kisser.”

  “Did he, now?”

  “Is Dad a good kisser, too?”

  Anne Marie smiled. “He is.”

  “I saw Mel kiss you once.”

  That wasn’t nearly as big a surprise.

  “You kiss him different than you do Dad.”

  “Oh?”

  “You like it more with Dad. I can tell.”

  For that matter, so could Anne Marie. “Mel’s a good kisser,” she said loyally.

  “But not as good as Dad.”

  This wasn’t a conversation Anne Marie felt they should be having. “How about dessert?” she asked, desperately trying to change the subject. Ellen shook her head, but the expression on her face said she knew exactly what Anne Marie was doing.

  After dinner Ellen cleared the table and together they placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, washed the two pots and put them away.

  “Church in the morning,” Anne Marie reminded her.

  “I know,” Ellen said. “Can we start knitting now?”

  “Okay.”

  Ellen ran into her bedroom with Baxter at her heels. She returned with the package from A Good Yarn, and they sat on the sofa, side by side. Anne Marie read the pattern all the way through and so did Ellen. It seemed relatively uncomplicated and wouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks. Anne Marie cherished her knitting time. She used those quiet moments to think, weighing decisions and mulling over whatever troubled her, letting solutions come of their own accord. The rhythmic action of knitting calmed her mind, making her relaxed and receptive.

  “I like the pink yarn,” she told her daughter. “You never did say who you’re knitting the purse for,” Anne Marie said, completing the first row of her own project.

  Ellen frowned as she worked the yarn onto the needles. Casting on was the most difficult part of knitting for her, because she insisted on using the long-tail method. At one time Lydia had said she felt it was the best way of starting a project. From that moment on, Ellen had refused to consider any other method.

  They’d just finished their first rows when Ellen said, “For you.”

  Anne Marie didn’t immediately grasp what she meant. “Oh, you’re knitting the bride’s purse for me?” She smiled. “That’s very thoughtful.”

  “For your wedding.”

  “My wedding,” Anne Marie laughed. “Did I become engaged and forget all about it?” she joked.

  “Not yet.”

  “And just who am I marrying? Mel?”

  Ellen stopped knitting, set her needles aside and hurried into her bedroom. When she returned, she was carrying the spiral notebook in which she’d listed her twenty wishes. She sat down next to Anne Marie and reverently opened the book.

  In neat and even cursive writing, Ellen had carefully written each of her twenty wishes. Several had been crossed out, including the trip to Paris they’d taken almost a year earlier.

  “I have a twenty-first wish.”

  “And what would that be?” Anne Marie asked, bending forward to read what her daughter had written.

  Ellen rested the book on Anne Marie’s lap. Sure enough, at the bottom of the third page was her twenty-first wish. I wish my mom and dad would get married.

  “Your…dad,” Anne Marie said. A tingling sensation went down her spine.

  “You already said you like the way he kisses,” Ellen pointed out.

  “That’s true.” Anne Marie couldn’t very well deny it now.

  “And he likes your kisses, too.” Ellen paused. “Sometimes wishes do come true. Look how many of mine already have,” she said, smoothing the page.

  The trip to Paris.

  Finding her father.

  Learning to knit.

  Anne Marie couldn’t read any further because the words began to blur as tears gathered in her eyes. “That’s a very nice wish,” she murmured. “But you have to remember that sometimes wishes don’t come true. And sometimes, even if they do, it takes a long time.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  May 5

  April knows how to knit really well now. She doesn’t even need my help anymore. I told her about the bride’s purse I’m making and now she wants to knit one, too, only she doesn’t know anyone who’s getting married. Her mom is taking her down to A Good Yarn
on Saturday and she said I could come. Mom and I have been knitting every night after dinner. I’m glad I showed her my twenty-first wish. I wasn’t going to, but I did, anyway.

  Anne Marie heard from Mel every day for the next week. He phoned at least once and sometimes twice. Invariably he’d invite her somewhere—dinner, a movie, even just coffee—but Anne Marie always found an excuse. Still, Mel persisted. Finally, unable to put him off any longer, she agreed to meet him for a drink on Friday night, after work. Conveniently, Ellen had a playdate with another girl from school.

  Tim phoned, too, but he spoke only to Ellen and, other than a polite exchange of greetings, he didn’t have anything to say to Anne Marie. His lack of communication made her realize how much she’d come to rely on him and how much she’d looked forward to their conversations.

  Lillie Higgins stopped by the bookstore early Friday afternoon. Lillie was not only a good friend, but one of Anne Marie’s best customers. A voracious reader, she’d built up an extensive library and often purchased several hardcovers at a time.

  “Oh, the book you ordered came in,” Anne Marie said. She’d meant to phone and leave a message earlier, but had gotten sidetracked, which seemed to be the norm lately. She really did need to focus on business, she told herself, instead of the sad state of her personal life.

  “I thought it must have,” Lillie said as she walked up to the service counter. “It usually takes you about three days to get a special order in.”

  While Anne Marie retrieved the Mexican cookbook for her, Lillie wandered over to the new display Teresa had arranged. “I haven’t heard from you since the move.” She picked up the latest bestseller by a popular suspense author and flipped through the pages. “I got your thank-you note. Hector and I enjoyed ourselves.”

  “I really appreciate everyone’s help,” Anne Marie said.

  “That Tim is quite the character, isn’t he?” Lillie commented with a laugh. “While we were loading up the truck, he and Ellen were singing ABBA songs at the top of their lungs. He actually has quite a nice voice. Ellen, too.”

  At the mention of Tim’s name, Anne Marie lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to think about him, yet he was constantly on her mind. Not an hour passed without her being reminded of him in some way.

  “My dear,” Lillie said, placing one beautifully manicured hand on Anne Marie’s arm. “What is it? Did I say something to upset you?”

  “No…”

  “Is it Tim?”

  Anne Marie nodded. “We had a…falling out.”

  “Over Ellen?”

  “Not exactly.” Based on what he’d said to her daughter, he seemed to regret their argument. So did she. Perhaps he felt it best to keep his distance, step aside and give her a chance to work things out with Mel. She wasn’t sure how to interpret this painful silence, this…discord between them. All she knew was that she had to find some way of resolving it.

  “I remember how awkward it was when Hector and I first started seeing each other,” Lillie said. “His family objected, and Barbie had her doubts, too. Neither of us wanted to cause problems, so we ended our relationship. I have to tell you, I’ve never been more miserable in my life.”

  “That’s where I am right now,” Anne Marie told her.

  “Then do something about it,” Lillie said. “If you have feelings for Tim, you need to tell him.”

  Lillie made everything sound so straightforward. Unfortunately, Anne Marie’s situation was anything but. She liked Mel and enjoyed his company, but he didn’t stir her senses, didn’t make her feel the passion or excitement she felt with Tim. Mel was attentive and smart and she knew he loved her. But she didn’t return his feelings. And there was nothing she could do about that. She couldn’t force emotions that simply weren’t there.

  “You’ll tell him, won’t you?” Lillie urged.

  “I…I don’t know yet.” One thing was certain: she couldn’t move forward with Tim—if he even wanted to—until she’d broken off with Mel. And that wasn’t going to be easy.

  Mel had suggested they meet at the Italian restaurant where they’d gone on their first date. So their relationship would begin and end at the same place. That wasn’t a comforting thought. But there was no option other than honesty. Anne Marie would drink her glass of wine, then as gently as possible confess she was in love with Tim. After that, she’d be on her way.

  She hoped.

  By the time she arrived at Ti Amo Sempre, Mel had secured a table by the window. He stood as she approached and kissed her cheek. He’d already ordered her favorite wine, a Malbec from the Mendoza region of Argentina. His thoughtfulness made this final meeting even more awkward.

  As she picked up her wine, Mel also raised his glass. “To Fridays,” he said.

  Anne Marie touched the rim of her glass to his. “To Fridays.”

  “You had a busy week,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

  Nervous, Anne Marie reached for a handful of the nuts their waiter had delivered with the wine. Her week had actually been slow, but she’d invented excuse after excuse not to see Mel, most of them related to the business, which led him to believe she’d been overwhelmed by a huge influx of new inventory and custom orders.

  “You, too,” she murmured, evading the truth for another few minutes—or seconds.

  “Very busy,” he said solemnly

  She responded with a weak smile, then drew in a deep breath and plunged forward, forgoing any further exchange of pleasantries. “I think you already know why I wanted to meet you this evening,” she said quickly. Her stomach was in knots, and all she could concentrate on was saying what needed to be said.

  “I asked you out, remember?” he said. “Now, relax and enjoy your wine. It’s your favorite.”

  “I know…but I can’t relax.”

  “Try.” He gestured for her to take another sip. “The wine will help.”

  Anne Marie did, and Mel was right; the wine did make her feel calmer. “You came into my life at a turning point,” she began.

  “And you came into mine when I needed you.”

  Anne Marie nodded, trying not to wince, wondering how he’d react to her announcement. “I’ve really enjoyed our times together,” she said.

  “I have, too, which makes this all the more difficult for me.”

  Difficult for him? Anne Marie glanced up, unsure of his meaning.

  “I’ve met someone else, Anne Marie,” he said. “I’ve been trying to tell you all week, but whenever I called, you had some work problem that demanded your attention and we couldn’t chat.”

  She blinked, certain she’d misunderstood him. “You’ve…met someone else?”

  “Yes, a woman from my office, who’s closer to my own age. We have a lot in common.”

  “When?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. Remember the Saturday you moved? Renee was at the office, too. After my appointment, she suggested we grab a bite to eat. We had a great time. I had no idea what a wonderful sense of humor she has.”

  Anne Marie was having trouble assimilating all this. “Mel, are you being honest with me?” She wanted to make sure he wasn’t fabricating this story in order to ease her conscience.

  “The truth is, I probably wouldn’t have given Renee a second glance if it wasn’t for the fact that I already knew I was losing you.”

  “Oh, Mel.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “I found out she’s had her eye on me for quite a while.”

  Anne Marie laughed out loud. “You have no idea how much better this makes me feel.”

  Mel laughed, too, his expression almost boyish. “Tim’s a good man.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “I regret the way I behaved earlier. I wish you both the best.”

  Rather than explain that she hadn’t exactly worked out the situation with Tim, she let Mel assume all was well between them.

  “I hope you and Renee find happiness together,” she said. Mel had graciously wished her the best and it seemed only
fitting that she do the same. Besides, she meant it. He deserved to be with a woman who cared about him with the same intensity she felt toward Tim.

  “Let’s keep in touch,” he said.

  “Let’s,” she agreed.

  “I’ll update you on what’s happening with me and Renee.”

  “I’d like that.”

  They finished their wine, and after Mel had paid the bill they walked outside into the still-bright evening. On the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, they hugged, then went their separate ways. For the first time in weeks, Anne Marie felt she could smile.

  Then she thought of the coming conversation with Tim, and all her anxieties returned.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  May 7

  I doubt that I could be more surprised than I was when Mel announced he’d met someone else. When I got home my head was spinning. But I didn’t really have a chance to think about it because Ellen came home soon after I did, talking up a storm about her visit with her new friend Bailey. She’s teaching Bailey to knit, too, and wants to start a knitting camp for her friends during summer vacation. The backyard will be perfect, since I plan to get a picnic table and a large umbrella. She’s going to invite Lydia to come and teach. Ellen seems to have everything figured out. If she teaches five friends to knit and each of them teaches five friends, by the end of the summer the whole school will know how to knit. Oh, if only life was this simple…

  Saturday morning the doorbell rang while Anne Marie sorted laundry. She’d started taking every other Saturday off in order to spend more time with Ellen. When her daughter didn’t immediately rush to answer, Anne Marie left the stack of soiled laundry in front of the washer and hurried toward the hall. Baxter was barking wildly. She calmed him and told him to sit—to her great satisfaction he obeyed instantly—then opened the door.

  When she saw Tim standing there, she nearly gasped with shock. He was the last person she’d expected—and the most welcome. While she yearned to yank open the screen door and throw herself into his arms, she resisted.

  “Hi,” she managed, her voice, even to her own ears, sounding breathless and strange.