Any Dream Will Do

by Debbie Macomber

  At the end of the exhausting evening, I returned to the house, paid Jada, and slumped onto the sofa, my nerves shot. Britt was a nice woman, but there was no spark between us. Zero chemistry.

  Getting up, I turned off the living room lights when my son wandered out of his bedroom.

  “Did I wake you?” I asked Mark. He was a light sleeper and I often saw evidence that he’d been up in the middle of the night. When I asked him about it, he generally brushed it off, irritated by my questions.

  He rubbed his eyes and blinked at me. “I heard you and Jada talking.”

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He had school in the morning and as a growing boy, he needed his rest. “Can I have a glass of milk?” he asked. “It helps me get back to sleep.”

  “Sure.” Tired as I was, I could use a glass myself. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Okay.”

  Mark climbed onto a stool at the kitchen counter while I brought down two glasses and poured each about half full.

  “How’d your date go?” he asked when I handed him the milk.

  I shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

  “You like her?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “She’s a nice woman.”

  “Is that your answer?” Mark asked before he sipped his milk.

  “Not really.” While I did my best to figure out how to explain my feelings, Mark asked another question.

  “You like Shay better?”

  Why I should feel guilty admitting that was beyond me. “I do.”

  My son grinned as if he knew something I didn’t. “I thought so.”

  Seeing that Mark had never met Britt, I was curious how he’d determined my feelings. “And you know this how?” I asked.

  “Dad, seriously?” He shook his head from side to side as though I had no clue about human nature. “When you got ready tonight, it looked like you were going to attend a funeral.”

  That wasn’t as far-fetched as it sounded. Not that I was willing to admit it. “Did not.”

  “Did too.”

  Chuckling softly, I had to agree my son had read me like a text message. I hadn’t been interested in seeing Britt again. She was the one who’d contacted me about the symphony tickets. Caught off guard, I couldn’t think of a way to refuse and not offend her. That wasn’t a mistake I planned to repeat. After our first date, I’d known the two of us didn’t click.

  “You talk to Shay recently?” Mark asked.

  “We text.”

  “You tell her it isn’t working with Britt?”

  “No.” I wouldn’t, especially since she hadn’t mentioned anything about her dates with Devon.

  “Why not? You two need to talk.”

  “She’s dating another guy, and every time I text about us getting together, she’s busy.” I hadn’t mentioned this to Mark and Sarah.

  Mark’s eyes widened with surprise. “Are you kidding me? This is a joke, right? What happened?”

  “Ah…”

  Holding up his hand, Mark stopped me from explaining. He looked at me with what can only be described as impatience that bordered on disgust. “Listen, Dad, you like Shay. Sarah and I like Shay. If you let some other guy step in and steal her, then you deserve to lose her.”

  It was again a sad commentary when I was listening to advice on romance from my son, who was barely in his teens. “When did you get so smart about women and relationships?” I asked him.

  Mark shrugged. “That’s just common sense.”

  “We decided not to date exclusively, to explore other relationships.” I regretted mentioning anything about this to my son. It wasn’t only Britt I had to contend with. Word had leaked out that I was starting to date. Single women and their advocates were all over me. Not a day had passed without a friend or church member wanting to make an introduction. At this rate, I could go out with a different woman every night for the next two weeks.

  “Shay suggested this?”

  “We both thought it was a good idea.” It seemed less of one with each passing day.

  Mark muttered under his breath, “I’m surprised at you, Dad.”

  “I…” I didn’t know what to say.

  Mark shook his head as if becoming aware his father was a total loser. “Whatever.”

  His support for Shay took me by surprise. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t shown strong feelings toward her one way or the other. Sarah, on the other hand, had taken to her like a hummingbird to sugar water. “You like Shay that much?”

  “Yeah,” he said and shrugged. “She’s okay. I like her better than anyone else I’ve met from church.”

  “Such a recommendation,” I returned, grinning.

  “I’m a kid and I don’t know that much about women, but Shay is nice and she thinks about other people.”

  “Yes, she does.” I’d watched her interact with others, including Richard, and was taken with her empathy. She was strong—stronger than she realized. When Kevin talked to me about the possibility of hiring Shay, he’d mentioned how she’d become a leader with the women in her class. It was clear that Sadie, Frankie, and the others at The Corner Café had become her advocates as well. She didn’t judge people and was generous to a fault.

  —

  As the week went on, all the phone calls with offers to set me up with single women of family and friends only became worse. There was a constant barrage of suggestions and offers of introductions. On Wednesday evening, minutes before I left for the church to talk with the choir director before practice, the doorbell rang.

  For one hopeful moment I thought it might be Shay.

  It wasn’t.

  Instead, a woman dressed in jeans and a plaid jacket and wearing a hard hat stood in front of me, holding a casserole dish with two pot holders. She smiled brightly. I swear I’d never seen her before in my life. She looked like she might work on the Seattle wharf.

  “May I help you?” I asked.

  “I brought you my special chicken-and-rice dish.” She edged past me and made her way into the kitchen. After she set it down on the counter, she looked around the kitchen and shook her head disapprovingly.

  “And you are?” I asked, following close behind her.

  “Dee Miller. I believe my aunt Sally mentioned me.”

  For the life of me I couldn’t remember anyone named Sally. “I don’t think so.”

  She walked over to the stove and peered at the outlet and made a comment that my kitchen was below code, whatever that meant. “Sure you have to remember,” she argued. “Aunt Sally told you what a great cook I am. She told me about your conversation and so I thought I’d bring you dinner so you could judge my skills for yourself.”

  “I appreciate—”

  She cut me off. “I don’t mean to be blunt or come on too strong here, but the fact is I’m thirty-five, as healthy as an ox, and I’m ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “For marriage,” she answered, as if it should be obvious. “Aunt Sally explained the competition is going to be steep, and I thought I’d take the initiative and introduce myself before another woman snatches you up.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, too stunned to find words. By now both Mark and Sarah had come to stand at my side. They seemed as shell-shocked as I was.

  Dee glanced down and smiled at them. “I’ve never been married. I’m educated, have all my own teeth, and work as a construction electrician. I have no objection to kids.”

  Sarah scooted closer to me.

  “Thanks for the casserole, but…”

  “It’s my specialty.”

  As best I could, I eased her out of the kitchen and toward the front door. “I was just about to head over to the church.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Mark looked at me and rolled his eyes as if to say I was getting exactly what I deserved.

  “Dee, listen, I’d rather you didn’t follow me to church. I can’t remember ever talking to anyone named Sally, and while I appreciate the thoug
ht, I’m not comfortable feeding my children dinner made by someone I don’t know.”

  She stiffened and frowned at me. “Are you saying you’re not interested?”

  “To be blunt, yes.” Normally I’d be a bit more polite, but I could tell this woman would need to hear it straight with no chance for miscommunication.

  She accepted my rejection with little more than a shrug. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  “No, you can’t. I appreciate the thought, but I think it would be best if you took your chicken and rice home to share with your aunt Sally.” Whoever she might be, I added silently.

  Dee collected her dish and was gone. Closing the door behind her, I sighed with relief.

  Sarah raced to my side and hugged my waist. “Daddy, please call Shay.”

  She didn’t need to ask me twice. I was finished with this little experiment.

  —

  As soon as the kids were down for the night and I was fairly certain Shay was home from her classes, I called.

  “Drew?” she answered almost right away.

  “Hey,” I said, sighing with relief just hearing her voice. It was as if I’d been trapped in a cave with no communication from the outside world when she answered her phone.

  “You okay?”

  “No, actually, I’m not.” I had yet to figure out what I’d been thinking to suggest this crazy idea.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” I said, but didn’t elaborate. “How’d your dinner date go with that other guy?”

  She hesitated. “It went fine.”

  “I need more than that. Have pity and indulge me.”

  I wasn’t certain, but I thought I might have heard her chuckle. “Devon was the perfect gentleman and I had a delightful evening.”

  That, most definitely, wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “You did?” My spirits sagged.

  “How about you? How’s it going with you?” she asked.

  “Fine.” Pride demanded that I downplay what a miserable failure my dating experiences had been.

  “From the sound of it, you’re not having much luck?”

  “You could say that.” Seeing that I probably sounded pitiful anyway, I decided I might as well own up to the truth. “If you must know, I met a construction electrician who literally burst into the house with a casserole dish. She outlined her qualifications and informed me I needed another outlet in my kitchen to meet code.”

  As I expected she would, Shay laughed.

  “She offered to check the rest of the house, but I declined.” Feeling it was important, I added, “I made her take the casserole with her, too.” I’d noticed she’d used a ceramic dish, which would entail me returning it. As far as I could see, no good would come from accepting the meal. She might have expected to join us for dinner, but that was speculation on my part.

  “I’m sorry you’re having troubles.”

  “No you’re not,” I challenged.

  “Okay, the truth, you’re right. I’m secretly trying not to laugh.”

  “The least you could do is tell me you’ve missed me.”

  “I do miss you,” she offered, her voice low and soft. “When you asked me to the movie I was depressed that I couldn’t go.”

  “Thank you for that.” Her words were like salve over a sunburn.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I exhaled, not sure where to go from here, especially since Shay had had a much more positive dating experience.

  “So,” I said, dragging out the word, “are you going to be seeing this guy again?”

  “He asked and we had a great time.”

  “Oh.” It felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.

  “I didn’t say I accepted.”

  “You’re toying with me, Shay, and that isn’t kind. Be straight with me because I’m miserable here and regret ever suggesting we do this. I’m more than ready to throw in the towel, surrender, and move forward with you.”

  She sighed and went silent. “Are you serious, Drew?”

  “Never more so. Even Mark is annoyed with me. He said if I lost you then I didn’t deserve you in the first place.”

  “Mark said that?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  The line went silent again before she spoke. “I’m pretty miserable myself, thinking about you with other women. Especially when I come with a whole lot of baggage.”

  “Thank God. I don’t want to date anyone but you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “After the last week I’ve never been more confident of anything.” I hesitated and then felt I had to ask: “What about you?”

  “I feel the same.”

  The relief was overwhelming. I couldn’t have been happier. For the first time in a week, I slept like a baby and woke feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. I didn’t know where a relationship with Shay would take me, but I was more than ready to find out.

  I was feeling pretty good about life, especially the way things were developing with Drew. We’d both learned a valuable lesson in the last couple weeks. Like Sadie had mentioned, Devon was a good guy. I enjoyed his company, and under other circumstances I wouldn’t have minded getting to know him better. My feelings were wrapped up in a certain pastor, though, and it would be wrong to lead Devon on. He took the news with a shrug of his shoulders and wished me well.

  “You let this guy you’re seeing know he’s one lucky fellow,” Devon told me when I spoke to him.

  I’d never thought of myself as a catch, certainly not with my personal history. His words helped to remind me that I’d come a long way from the girl who hung out with gang members and flirted with drugs. Prison changed me and Hope Center showed me the way to a better life. The center was well named. I’d left hopeful that the positive changes I’d made would stick.

  Just before Valentine’s Day, I got off the bus and headed toward the café. It was still dark this early in the morning and I kept a cautious eye out walking to the café, aware of my surroundings. It’d been two weeks since I’d heard about the computer glitch that had released felons into the general public. The news had been full of details. Several had been apprehended, but an equal number were still on the loose. The identities of those who remained at large were published in the paper, and that was where I saw Shooter’s name.

  Perhaps I was foolish not to worry about his release, but I no longer lived in the same neighborhood or associated with the people I once had. It’d been nearly five years since I’d last seen him. My prayer was that he’d forgotten about me. While I wanted to believe I was safe, I wasn’t completely convinced Shooter wouldn’t come looking for me.

  I looked both ways when I stepped off the bus. If Shooter found me, this is when I would be most vulnerable. The street was quiet and silent as I started toward The Corner Café. As I approached, I saw Richard and Chuck against the side of the building, still asleep.

  I could see inside the café that Sadie and Frankie were busy getting everything in order before opening.

  “Coffee’s ready,” Sadie told me as I came in from the cold. She knew I’d be taking coffee to Richard and Chuck.

  I poured them each a cup and added sugar and cream. Both Navy veterans liked their coffee sweet, so I added extra sugar.

  When I returned with the two cups, both men were awake and waiting for me.

  “How’d you sleep?” I asked. I didn’t know how it was that they managed to get any rest, leaning against the side of the building. They claimed it was as good as any bed, but I suspected they were exaggerating, not wanting me to make a fuss. I’d grown close to these two, especially Richard. More than once I’d suggested they go to a shelter, but neither seemed interested. I never understood that and didn’t ask.

  “You’re an angel,” Richard said, gratefully accepting the coffee.

  A shadowy figure stepped out from the dark. “You got that all wrong, old man.”

  A chill went up my spine. I’d recognize Shooter’s voice anywhere. He steppe
d purposely toward me, his look menacing. He was thinner than I remembered and had a large snake tattoo that wrapped around his neck.

  I froze and swallowed hard.

  “Cat got your tongue, Shay?” he growled. His eyes were dark and cold. The man was soulless.

  “You leave her be,” Richard insisted.

  “Shut up, old man, before I take out whatever teeth you’ve got left.”

  Not willing to risk physical harm, Chuck scrambled out of sight. Richard, however, stood his ground, refusing to leave me.

  “It’s all right, Richard. Go,” I urged. The last thing I wanted was for Shooter to hurt my friend.

  “You heard her. Get lost,” Shooter said and shoved the older man aside. “I need to talk to my woman.”

  “It’s been five years, Shooter. I’m not your woman any longer.”

  He slapped me hard across the face and I tasted blood. “You’re my woman until I say you’re not.”

  Holding my hand against my cheek, I asked, “How’d you find me?” Why knowing that was important, I couldn’t guess.

  “You think you can hide from me?”

  “I tried,” I whispered, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the sidewalk. Richard sent me a sympathetic look, but no way could he help me.

  Shooter got in Richard’s face and screamed as he shoved him aside, “Leave.”

  “No.”

  “Richard, please.”

  Shooter slapped me again and I stumbled backward, seeing stars.

  “I’ll keep hitting her until you disappear.”

  “I’m not leaving her,” Richard insisted, running into Shooter and hitting him with his shoulder.

  The impact didn’t budge Shooter.

  “I don’t care what you do to me, Shooter, just leave him alone.”

  “You care about this old man?” he asked me, grabbing hold of Richard by the scruff of his coat, lifting him off his feet to the point where he was choking. Hot coffee sloshed out of his to-go cup onto the sidewalk. Richard struggled to break free, but it did no good. He was too old and feeble to put up much resistance.