Ellen must’ve asked the same questions ten times since they’d been told that Dolores was being released. “Of course,” she said again.
“Goody.” And then as if she’d almost forgotten something important, Ellen added breathlessly, “What about Lillie and Barbie and Mrs. Beaumont? What about Lydia and Margaret and Susannah and Theresa?” she asked. “Will I be able to visit them, too?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Her friends and neighbors didn’t know yet that Ellen was moving back with her grandmother. As soon as they heard, they’d send their love to Ellen, and to Dolores.
“I’ll still knit every day,” Ellen assured her. She had a knitting bag now, the same as Anne Marie’s. Young as she was, the child had proven to be an adept knitter.
“Me, too,” Anne Marie said. She’d finished the lap robe for Dolores earlier and had given it to her during their most recent visit; she’d completed Melissa’s baby blanket, as well. For her third project she planned to knit Ellen a sweater and had chosen a simple cardigan pattern. The girl had picked out a soft rose-colored yarn. Ellen was working on a pair of mittens. She wanted to knit Anne Marie a sweater but Lydia had wisely suggested she knit one for Baxter first and then try a larger project. Ellen had agreed.
As she neared the street where Dolores lived, Anne Marie examined the neighborhood more closely than she had before. It consisted of mostly older homes, many of them in ill repair. Now Anne Marie couldn’t help wondering if this was a safe place for Ellen—or Dolores for that matter.
It’d been weeks since she’d seen the Falk home, which seemed even shabbier and more run-down now that she really looked at it. The front porch tilted, indicating the foundation had eroded on one side. The roof had a plastic tarp over part of it. Funny, Anne Marie hadn’t noticed that before. The yard needed some serious attention; the flower beds sprouted weeds and a lone rosebush struggled for survival, choked off by the encroaching lawn. A pang went through Anne Marie at leaving Ellen here. Yet, this was her home….
“After we say hello to your grandmother, I’ll need your help carrying in the groceries.” Before heading over to Dolores’s house, Anne Marie and Ellen had picked up some necessities. She didn’t think Dolores would be up to a trip to the grocery store anytime soon.
“Okay,” Ellen agreed. She’d already put Baxter in the back and unfastened her seat belt.
With a smile, Anne Marie watched Ellen dash out of the car and fly across the yard. She threw open the front door, then barreled inside. By the time Anne Marie entered the house, she found Ellen in her grandmother’s arms, both of them a little teary. For an instant Anne Marie felt like an intruder.
Dolores Falk looked up at Anne Marie. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of my girl.”
“I was glad to do it,” Anne Marie said simply.
Holding on to her grandmother, Ellen said, “Anne Marie’s still going to be my Lunch Buddy and she said I can see Baxter anytime I want. We’re growing seeds and she taught me to knit and we knit every night after dinner when I’m finished my homework.”
Dolores had heard about Ellen’s knitting at least a dozen times. The child was more animated today than Anne Marie had ever seen her.
Breaking away from her grandmother, Ellen raced toward the hallway. “I want to see my room!”
“I didn’t have an actual bed for her at my place,” Anne Marie explained. “She slept on a pull-out sofa.” She wished now that she’d purchased a bed for Ellen, but it hadn’t seemed logical at the time. She couldn’t possibly have known the girl would be with her a full month.
Obviously fatigued, Dolores sank into her recliner. “I’m just so grateful for everything you did.”
“I’m going to miss her.” The apartment, tiny though it was, would seem empty without her.
Ellen tore back into the living room. “Should we bring my clothes in now?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Anne Marie said briskly. For a moment she’d forgotten about Ellen’s bags and the groceries. “We got a few things we thought you’d need for the first couple of days,” she told Dolores. “Enough to last until you can get to the grocery store.”
Dolores seemed about to weep. “God bless you.”
Anne Marie shrugged off her appreciation and, with Ellen at her side, returned to her vehicle. Baxter, lying in the backseat, didn’t seem pleased to be left out of the action.
“Can I take Baxter for a walk?” Ellen asked as she pressed her nose to the car window.
“Help me first and then you can take him. Just be sure his leash is secure.”
“Okay.”
They collected Ellen’s various bags, unloaded the groceries and brought everything inside. Anne Marie sorted through the cartons of milk and juice, the vegetables, cereal, cheese and bread, and organized them as logically as she could so Dolores wouldn’t have any problem locating what she needed.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked Dolores once Ellen had come back with the dog.
“No, no—you’ve done far more than I would’ve thought to ask.”
Anne Marie moved toward the front door, reluctant to leave. “Ellen, finish your homework, okay?”
“I will.”
“See you soon,” Anne Marie said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.
“Okay.” Ellen hugged Baxter goodbye, then ran across the living room to throw her thin arms around Anne Marie, holding tight. Her shoulders trembled with her sobbing.
“Hey,” Anne Marie said, bending down. “This is your home, remember? You’re back with your Grandma Dolores. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah, but…” Ellen sniffled. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too, but we’ll see each other often.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, and I always keep my promises,” Anne Marie said. “You know that, right?” She rubbed Ellen’s back gently as the child nodded. “In fact, why don’t I stop by tomorrow evening to see how everything’s going?” Glancing over at Dolores, she asked, “If that’s okay with your grandmother?”
“That would be just fine,” Dolores said.
Anne Marie left a few minutes later. As she drove away from the bedraggled little house, she experienced an overwhelming sense of loss. For one wild moment, she felt a compelling urge to turn back. She couldn’t imagine what she’d say if she did. Ellen belonged with her grandmother; Dolores deeply loved this child. So did she. Anne Marie realized it with a shock that galvanized her.
She understood now that what she’d seen as affection, caring, a feeling of responsibility—all emotions she’d readily acknowledged—added up to one thing. Love.
She loved this little girl and wanted to be part of her life for as long as she could.
“Well, Baxter,” she murmured, sighing loudly. “It’s just you and me again.”
Her Yorkie, who’d been sitting up in the backseat, turned in a circle several times, then dropped down. He curled up, nose to tail, and Anne Marie thought he seemed as despondent as she was.
When she reached her quiet apartment, she roamed from room to room, feeling restless. Dissatisfied. Living here was only supposed to be a temporary situation. The apartment was empty when she’d separated from Robert and it had seemed the logical place to live while they sorted out their differences. It really was time to look for a house, a home for her and Baxter. She might see if she could find one in the same area as Ellen, a fixer-upper she could keep for a while and then sell for a nice profit.
As she moved into the kitchen to prepare a sandwich, Anne Marie stopped abruptly, recognizing something about herself. She was different than she’d been a month ago. She’d gradually changed into a woman who could make her own wishes come true. A woman who was ready to move on with her life. This was the gift Ellen had given her. She’d opened Anne Marie’s eyes to the many ways she’d been blessed, despite her losses, and the many possibilities that still existed.
Preparing for bed, she paused in the doo
rway to Ellen’s room. The bed was a sofa again, and Baxter had nestled on the cushion and gone to sleep, as if he expected the little girl to return.
The room was neat and orderly. Nothing of Ellen remained, and yet Anne Marie felt her presence. Many a night she’d stood right here, watching Ellen sleep. That ritual would come to an end now. But she couldn’t be sad about it because Ellen was where she wanted and needed to be, with the grandmother who adored her.
“Sleep tight, sweetie,” she whispered, then went to her own room to read before turning out the light.
Chapter 28
Lillie was as nervous as a bride the night before her wedding. Hector was coming to pick her up and bring her to his place for dinner. They’d seen each other a number of times, but this was different.
Hector had invited her to his home.
Lillie felt as if she’d passed some test, and that the invitation to visit his home was Hector’s way of saying he trusted her and was willing to reveal more of his life.
When the doorbell rang, she pressed her hand over her heart and took a deep breath before walking to the front door and opening it. As always Hector was punctual.
“Good evening, Lillie,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I hope you had a pleasant afternoon.”
“No. I mean, yes, I had a lovely afternoon.” Rather than explain her initial response, she gathered up her sweater, made of silver-blue cashmere, and her purse.
She’d agonized over whether to ask him in, self-conscious about her wealth and her luxurious house. But it wasn’t an issue, since he immediately asked if she was ready to leave.
After she’d locked her door and set the alarm, he led her to his car, parked in her driveway. His manners were impeccable as he escorted her and made sure she was comfortably seated. His courtesies came from a soul-deep regard for others, a true considerateness; she knew that with absolute certainty. This was nothing as superficial as charm. It was a mark of respect.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he was saying once he’d joined her in the vehicle.
Lillie was far too nervous to be hungry. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” she told him.
He glanced over at her, his dark eyes intense. “I have, too.”
Her stomach pitched. From the first moment they’d met, he’d had an unprecedented effect on her. She felt things with him that she hadn’t felt before. David had never shared much with her; he’d been what her women’s magazines now referred to as “emotionally inaccessible.” His affairs were part of that, of course. It wasn’t until after his death that she’d recognized how withdrawn she’d become through the years. There had been a price to pay for ignoring his betrayals, for turning a blind eye to his shortcomings as a husband and lover. The price had been much higher than she’d realized. Only now was she beginning to understand how repressed her feelings had become. She’d learned to subdue her own emotions as well as her expectations.
Hector was talking about dinner, and she shook off her pensiveness.
“You made everything yourself?” she asked.
“My daughter offered advice.”
Hector and his daughter seemed to be especially close. Like everything else about this man, she found that endearing—and she couldn’t help comparing it to David’s relationship with Barbie. At first he’d been disappointed not to have a son, but Barbie had quickly wrapped him around her little finger. He’d accepted Lillie’s inability to have other children and lavished his attention on his daughter. David could be generous and loving; he’d certainly shown Barbie that side of himself. But Lillie considered him both uncommitted and morally weak in his emotional life. Yet he’d been a scrupulously honest businessman…. She supposed that was a result of his skill at “compartmentalizing,” which men were said to be good at, again according to her magazines.
“I need to mention something about my home,” Hector said, looking straight ahead as he concentrated on traffic. “I don’t live in a fancy neighborhood.”
“I understand that.”
“Your home is beautiful, Lillie.”
“Hector, are you telling me you’re ashamed of your home?” she asked bluntly.
“No, I’m not.”
“Then please don’t apologize for it.”
“You apologized for yours, remember?”
She had. She’d feared that once Hector saw her opulent home, the differences between their financial situations would discourage him. She’d been wrong. He wasn’t easily intimidated. At least, she didn’t think so until he’d brought up the subject of his own neighborhood.
“People might talk about us, Lillie,” Hector added. “However, Rita’s aware that I’m seeing you and has been most supportive.”
“My daughter has been, too.” Lillie didn’t mention their initial conflict and the painful few days that had followed their disagreement.
“I haven’t told my sons about you yet.”
“Oh?”
“They might not be as understanding as Rita.”
Lillie glanced at him. “Will their opinion make a difference?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away. “I would like to tell you it wouldn’t. The truth is, I don’t know. My family is important and I trust that my children love me enough to want to see me happy. And you, Lillie, make me happy.”
“Oh, Hector.” His sincerity touched her heart. “You make me happy, too,” she whispered in return.
Hector reached for her hand.
As soon as they turned onto Walnut Street, Lillie knew instantly which home was his. The yard was beautifully maintained, the flower beds splashed with brilliant color. When he pulled into the driveway of the house she’d guessed was his, it was all Lillie could do not to congratulate herself.
Hector helped her out of the car and led her to the front door of the white-painted two-story house. The first thing she saw inside was a multitude of family pictures. They covered the walls and the top of the piano. The wall next to the stairs was another gallery of photographs. Lillie’s gaze went to a portrait of Hector and his deceased wife. Angelina, maybe fifty in the picture, had been a slender, elegant woman.
“These are my children,” he said, pointing to college graduation photos of his daughter and his two sons. “This is Manuel,” he said, tapping the picture of his oldest son.
“The attorney,” Lillie murmured. The young man in the cap and gown, proudly displaying his diploma, had serious eyes and a fierce look. Lillie could picture him in a courtroom vanquishing his opponent.
“Luis,” he continued, tapping one finger on the next photograph.
“The doctor.” Unlike his brother, Lillie observed, Luis had gentle eyes that reminded her of Hector’s. “He looks the most like you.”
“Yes,” Hector said. “Angelina and I always knew he’d work in the health field. From the time he was a little boy, he wanted to help anyone in pain.”
Yes, this son was most like his father.
“And Rita,” Hector said, going down the line of photographs.
His daughter was a true beauty who resembled her mother. There was an engaging warmth in her smile.
“She’s lovely,” Lillie whispered. “I’m sure she’s a popular teacher.”
The smells coming from the kitchen were enticing, and suddenly Lillie felt ravenous. Once she’d torn her gaze from the photographs, she noticed that Hector had set the dining table with his best dishes; a small floral centerpiece sat in the middle.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked.
“You’ll see.” He escorted her into the dining room.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. You’re my guest.”
“Hector, I want to help.”
He hesitated but finally agreed. “If you insist. You can cut the bread.”
“You never did tell me what you’re serving.”
“It’s a classic Mexican dish,” Hector teased as he opened a drawer and pulled out a bread knife. “It’s spaghetti. My daughter gave me
the recipe. She even went to the store with me and chose the ingredients.”
“You didn’t need to go to all that trouble,” Lillie said, although she was flattered that he had. “We could eat potato chips and it would taste like ambrosia to me because I’m here with you.”
Hector grinned, then took a step closer. “I have been lonely for a long time,” he said in a low voice.
Lillie had spent most of her marriage being lonely. “I have, too,” she told him.
For just a moment it seemed that he was about to kiss her. Their first kiss had been the evening they’d attended the Frida Kahlo lecture at the Seattle Art Museum. At the end of the evening, he’d dropped her at home; he’d declined coffee but walked her to the door. It’d been an awkward moment and by unspoken agreement they’d each leaned forward and kissed. Lillie was eager to repeat the experience. Their kiss had been polite, almost chaste, but very satisfying….
“I’m just reheating the sauce,” he said, wielding a large wooden spoon.
“Hector?” Lillie drew in a deep breath before plunging ahead.
The way she said his name seemed to alert him to the fact that she had something important to say.
“Yes?”
“I want you to know…”
“Yes, Lillie?”
“When it feels right to you, I hope you’ll kiss me again.” She didn’t want him wondering—or worrying—about what her response might be.
“Thank you.” His eyes sparkled with delight. “I shall keep that in mind.”
She picked up the bread knife and carefully sliced the loaf of French bread, arranging the pieces neatly on a serving plate.
After stirring the sauce, Hector boiled the spaghetti noodles; when they were ready, he placed them inside a beautiful hand-painted ceramic dish. Next he poured the meat-and-tomato sauce over the noodles. The salad, waiting in the refrigerator, was already mixed. Lillie put it on the table, along with the bread.
Hector opened a bottle of red wine that he told her Rita had recommended. Then he seated her at the table and sat across from her.
They toasted each other, touching glasses, and began the meal. She discovered that Hector preferred his food spicier than she did but he’d made the sauce fairly mild, adding chili peppers to his own. Another example of his thoughtfulness.
Twenty Wishes Page 25
