What You Wish For

by Fern Michaels

  “If I do leave, are you going to have someone watch me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though I gave you my word that I wouldn’t see Donald . . . Daniel, whatever his name is?”

  “Yes.” Isabel looked out into the darkness, her mind clear across the country in New Jersey.

  “You listened to my call at noontime. I told him you were leaving California on a trip. He knows I won’t be able to feed him any more information. I’m useless to him now. What if he comes after me?”

  “People like Daniel Ward never give up. You need to know that,” Isabel said wearily.

  “I guess there’s no point in me staying here. I’m so very sorry, Miss Tyger. I wish I could undo what . . .”

  “Spare me your sorrow. I’m not in the mood. It’s late. If you’re going, go.”

  “If there’s any way I can make up. . .”

  “There isn’t. My housekeeper packed your belongings. Your bags are by the front door.”

  “Good-bye, Miss Tyger,” Maggie said tearfully.

  Isabel ignored the nurse as she stared out the wide bow window at the darkness beyond. She finally turned away when she heard the nurse’s engine roll over. She’d never felt so alone in her entire life. She knew if she called Gerry or Artie, they would come running. Such devotion. There were times when she wondered if she deserved their love and dedication to a friendship that was forged years ago when they were children.

  Isabel turned off the lights and made her way down the hall to her bedroom, where she did something she hadn’t done in years. She struggled to lower herself to one knee. She prayed fervently.

  She asked for nothing. She promised nothing. She simply prayed.

  At three o’clock, when she couldn’t stand tossing and turning another minute, she got up and dressed. She reached for a wool shawl she kept hanging on the hook of her bedroom door.

  She walked slowly even though she knew where each pebble, each blade of grass stood. This is what my life has come to, she thought sadly. Walking about in the middle of the night. Talking to a dog that died sixty-one years ago. She wondered if she was crazy, if she was losing her mind and no one had the nerve to tell her. Maybe she needed to be locked up somewhere. “You’re nothing but a stupid, silly old woman, Isabel Tyger,” Isabel muttered as she lowered herself to the ground. She took a moment to wonder if she would get hemorrhoids sitting on the cold ground. Like hemorrhoids would really affect her life one way or the other. “Bullshit!” she said, uttering her favorite word.

  Isabel sat quietly, her back against a tree, her legs stretched out in front of her. She knew she would have a devil of a time getting up later, but she didn’t care. This was the only place on earth that gave her any kind of real comfort. She talked then, to the dog named Boots and her nine pups, who were buried next to where Isabel sat. When the pain came, as she knew it would, sharp and fast, she heard the sharp bark of welcome overhead. “I’m coming, Boots, I’m coming.”

  15

  Helen angrily tossed the newspaper she was reading on the floor. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted to call someone, to demand she be allowed to attend the memorial service being held in California for Isabel Tyger. Why had the woman’s family waited over ten weeks before holding a service? She’d sent three dozen, possibly more, e-mails to Boots’s e-mail carrier requesting permission to attend a service when it was held. She had expected a reply, but none had been forthcoming.

  She hadn’t even known of the toy heiress’s death until Sam told her he read about it in the paper a week later. She’d been depressed for days, unable to shake off the feeling that she’d betrayed her benefactor, who had spent her life helping battered and abused women.

  Helen stared now at the e-mail glaring at her from her Sassie Lassie web page.

  Miss Tyger’s memorial service is to be a private affair attended by close friends. The foundation rules are still in effect and will continue as before. Your condolences are appreciated by Miss Tyger’s friends, who were near and dear to her heart. Your well-being and your safety are paramount to the program. Life must go on. It was and still is Miss Tyger’s legacy to all of you who were helped by her insight and her generosity.

  The e-mail was signed by Arthur King and Gerald Davis. Didn’t they know she was no longer in the program?

  Helen ran to the back room, where sobs ripped through her body. Another part of her life was gone, ripped out from under her.

  Helen stared at the wall phone. She could pick it up and call Arthur King, Daniel’s old boss. She was almost certain he would take her call. Or, she could call Dr. Davis. She wasn’t in the program any longer, so there was nothing to prevent her from calling. She needed to do something.

  She could make the call person-to-person from a pay phone. All she needed was a pocketful of change. She could get that at the First Union Bank two doors from her shop. There was also a pay phone a block away.

  Instead of listening to her own thoughts, Helen picked up the phone and dialed the information operator. She scribbled down the two numbers before she sucked in her breath to ask the operator to make the calls person-to-person.

  Five minutes later, Helen’s shoulders slumped. Arthur King was out of town. A recording came on at the Davis Veterinary Clinic that said the clinic was closed indefinitely and that Dr. Charles Goodwin was overseeing Dr. Davis’s practice.

  Helen slid to the floor to be next to the dogs. “You see. This is what I mean. I have no rights. I’m still not my own person. If I was my own person, Dr. Davis would have called me. Or, someone from Miss Tyger’s foundation would have called. Boots doesn’t even care about me anymore.” She continued to stroke both dogs’ heads as they slept. “It is what it is. I can’t change anything,” Helen mumbled as she got to her feet. “Up and at it, guys, I think we have time for a short walk. We’ll just go out the back. I have a lot of work to do this afternoon.”

  Both dogs yipped their pleasure at being outdoors. They strained at their leashes when a yellow tabby pranced out from behind a Dumpster. The feline stared at them contemptuously as she continued her leisurely stroll to the end of the back lot. Max stopped his frenzied barking when Lucie started to whine and whimper. He tried to lick at her tiny face before Helen bent down to pick her up. She knew something was wrong, and it wasn’t the tabby cat that had upset Lucie. In the blink of an eye she had both dogs inside her storeroom and the door locked. She then ran to the windowed front door, checked to make sure it was still locked, and pulled down the shade.

  Fear was a terrible thing. Lucie trembled in her arms. Helen crooned softly to the little dog before she set her down next to Max. Unlike her mistress, Lucie did not spook easily, especially when Max was around. The little dog’s fright merely intensified the strange feelings Helen had been having for the past several weeks. So many times she’d felt that someone was watching her. Just yesterday, when she’d gone next door to the bank to make a deposit, she’d felt someone staring at her. The day before, when she’d walked across the street to the deli for a sandwich, she’d felt the same way. The sensation of unseen eyes boring into the small of her back was so strong she’d galloped back to her store and locked herself in the storage room with the two dogs.

  Daniel?

  Had her husband finally found her? Was that why Lucie was so spooked a little while ago? Dogs had a natural instinct in matters like this. She suddenly felt icy cold. She was rubbing her arms for warmth when the phone rang. Answer it? Don’t answer it? It might be Sam. She picked up the receiver. “Sassie Lassie,” she said briskly. When there was no response, she said, “Hello, is anyone there?” When there was no response, she hung up the phone. She started to shake so badly she had to hang on to the counter for support.

  Daniel?

  Helen looked down to see Lucie snuggled between Max’s two front paws, his big head resting lightly on her back. She offered up a prayer of thanks for the beautiful Lab. She knew that Max would protect her and Lucie with his life. Suddenly she wan
ted to lash out, to hit something, to smash something out of sheer frustration.

  Helen felt vulnerable in the store. All she wanted to do was go home and lock all the doors and wait for Sam. A moment later she realized she could do just that. “I own this store,” she mumbled. “All I have to do is lock the door, and we can go home.” If Daniel is out there somewhere watching me, he’s going to follow me, she thought. If I do leave, I’ll be leading him right to my house.

  Helen almost jumped out of her skin when someone rattled the front door. Raising the shade, Helen saw two giggling teenagers wearing sweatshirts that said J.P. Stevens on the front. She unlocked the door and let them in.

  “Do you have any thong underwear?” one of them asked.

  “I don’t have any in the store, but we do have some on our web site. They’re pretty much a special order. Would you like me to bring up the web page for you to see what we have?” This was normal. This was business. Shift into neutral, Helen. Help the girls and then you can go home.

  “Yeah,” both girls said in unison.

  “Here we go,” Helen said, twirling the monitor around for the girls to view. She half listened to them as her gaze raked the street outside the store. Everything looked so normal. “Do you see anything you like?”

  “Do we ever! I’d like one of everything,” one of the girls said.

  “Me too,” the second girl said.

  “I’ll take seven pairs,” the first girl said. “Two black, two pink, two red, and one white.”

  “I’ll take the same thing,” the second girl said.

  “Are you sure? They’re very expensive. Eighteen dollars a pair to be exact. I’ll need a deposit,” Helen said. She wondered where high-school girls came by this kind of money.

  Both girls whipped out their wallets and laid down fifty-dollars each. Helen typed in the order and printed out a receipt. “They should arrive in about three days. Do you want me to mail them out or do you want to pick them up?”

  “We’ll pick them up,” both girls said in unison.

  When the door closed behind the girls, Helen wondered if they did their own laundry and what their mothers thought of thong underwear. As if it was really her problem. She thought back to her own school days and the long walk home that took her past a fashionable lingerie shop. Each and every day she’d stop and stare, marveling at the sheerness, the minuscule hand stitching, the beauty of the items that were changed daily in the window display. At one point she convinced herself the owner changed the window display just for her because she stopped each day to pretend she owned the beautiful things. In those days she was lucky she had JCPenney cotton underwear.

  “We’re going home,” she announced to the dogs. Neither animal moved. They knew they never went home until they heard the lock click on the front door and the computer screen saver chirped good-bye. Only then did they yawn, stretch, and stand up to wait for their leashes.

  Helen carefully locked the back door to the shop, her grip on the leashes secure. Lucie whimpered again. “Show me, Lucie. Show me what’s bothering you.”

  Lucie trotted ahead, Max at her side as she sniffed the ground and the corners of the building. When they reached her van, the little dog kept moving forward. Max let out a sharp bark to let Helen know they passed the van and what kind of strange goings-on was this? “Shhh,” she said to the big Lab.

  The moment Lucie stopped in her tracks, the Lab started to paw the ground. Lucie barked, her little body shaking from head to toe. The Lab lifted his leg and squirted the exact spot Lucie had been pawing.

  “So there!” Helen said dramatically. “Good boy, Max. Good boy.” If it was Daniel spying on her, the Lab now had his scent. “Okay, into the van, Max,” Helen said, sliding the door of the Ford Explorer. She unhooked the dogs’ leashes and settled them on the backseat. “Buckle up, Max.” She always smiled when Max buckled Lucie in first and then himself, something Sam had taught him to do.

  The smile left Helen’s face almost instantly when she steered the van out of the back parking lot. She crossed Route 27, taking a back street to Central, where she drove around in circles trying to see if anyone was following her. She passed St. Joseph’s High School, Charlie Brown’s restaurant, and then turned right on Stephenville Parkway. A brown Ford Escort and a dark blue Honda stayed with her until she turned right on Calvert and followed it all the way to Grove, where she turned right again, then made a left onto James Street. The blue Honda was still with her, but there was no sign of the brown Escort. She crossed Lincoln Highway at the light and drove up Parsonage Road to the Menlo Park Mall. The Honda was still behind her when she pulled into the underground parking lot. She drove out almost immediately and headed for the traffic light, where she crossed Parsonage Road again and drove into the Target parking lot. She steered the Explorer to a parking space and craned her neck. There was no sign of the blue Honda.

  Helen waited ten minutes before she pulled out of the lot and headed home, her eyes constantly searching the rearview mirror.

  If it was Daniel’s scent Lucie picked up, he probably knew already where she lived. He was probably lurking somewhere near her house at that moment. Lucie knew, though. All this past week the little dog had acted strange at certain times of the day and evening. Just last night she’d refused to go outside for the last walk of the night. Instead, she’d peed on the paper Helen left by the back door for “accidents” during the night.

  Helen slowed down and swerved into. the driveway to park next to Sam’s Chevy Blazer. He was home early. “Thank you, God,” she murmured.

  “We’re home, guys.” She smiled again as she watched the Lab use one paw to tap the seat belt. Lucie leaped over the backseat to land in Helen’s lap. The Lab did the same thing the moment he was free. “Okay, a quick run in the backyard and then inside. Go!” she said, unlocking the gate with the key on her key ring. She relocked the gate and entered the house through the garage.

  “Smells good. What is it?” Helen said.

  “Ann Landers meat loaf. I cut the recipe out of the paper years ago and every so often I get a fit for meat loaf. It ain’t bad.” He leered at her. “What’s wrong? I can tell by the look on your face that something happened. Sit down. I’ll make us some coffee. First I have to let the dogs in. Yo, big guy,” Sam said, as the Lab threw himself against his body, pushing him backward until he was against the refrigerator. Lucie yapped and then sprang into his arms.

  “Lock the door, Sam,” Helen said.

  “Maybe we should have a beer instead,” Sam said, stretching his arm to lock the door.

  “A beer is good. Beer’s fine. I like beer. I really do.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay, tell me what happened,” Sam said as he twisted the caps off two bottles of Budweiser. Helen told him.

  “You didn’t see anything? It’s just a feeling?” he queried.

  “That, plus Lucie’s strange behavior. He’s here, Sam. I know it. I feel it. So does Lucie.”

  “Do you want to go to the police?”

  “That’s the last thing I want to do. If he is here, he hasn’t done anything. What am I going to say? I have this feeling my husband is out there spying on me because I’m living with another man. How’s that going to look?”

  “Did you try Boots again?”

  “I’ve been e-mailing for days. I tried again today. I even tried to call Arthur King and Dr. Davis. The clinic is closed indefinitely, and Mr. King is out of town. I didn’t call because of Daniel. I called to see if they would give a message to Miss Tyger’s family or friends. I keep forgetting that she had no family. I needed . . . I wanted . . .”

  “I know what you wanted. I guess you are going to have to leave it alone. Boots will get back to you the way she did the last time. You were worried then, too, but she was in the hospital. Perhaps she had a relapse.”

  “She called to warn me, Sam. It’s been over two months. I’m telling you. Daniel is here. For all I know he could be standing in the bushes outside the house.”
/>   “What will he do, Helen?”

  “That’s just it, Sam. I don’t know. Batterers go through stages. Boots said he could be in the kill mode. I know that sounds dramatic, but that’s the way it is. He wants to get even with me for leaving him, and for losing his job, and whatever came afterward. Daniel is very clever. He fooled everyone all those years. They almost named him man of the year at the company one time, but Ted Wexler got it instead. Daniel was so magnanimous at the ceremony that night. When we got home, his rage took over. Ted Wexler’s honor cost me a broken collarbone.”

  “Jesus H. Christ, Helen! You should have left right then,” Sam exploded.

  “I couldn’t walk, Sam. Look, that was then, this is now. I warned you this would happen. You said you could handle it.”

  “I can handle it. I’m upset for you. I hate it when you tell me how that son of a bitch hurt you.”

  “He can’t hurt me anymore. You know what I would really like to do, Sam. I’d like to go back to California and get all my records. I want my driver’s license. I want my own credit card. I want mine and Lucie’s medical records. I want to go to a lawyer in California and file for a divorce. Dr. Davis has pictures he and his friend Billie took of me that night. I’m sure Mr. King can help me find Dr. Davis so he can turn the pictures over to me.”

  “I can get your records for you by mail, fax, or over the phone. I can’t leave, and I don’t want you to go without me. You can file for a divorce here. Someone from the foundation will help you, won’t they?”

  “No, Sam. They won’t. I can’t bring them into this. I gave my word.”

  “Sometimes I’m confused, Helen. Are you in or are you out of that program?”

  “I’m technically out, but I’m still in. I don’t have any papers saying I’m Helen Stanley Ward. All I have are bogus papers saying I’m Nancy Baker. Until my own identity is given back to me, I am still, in the eyes of the program, Nancy Baker. I can’t live like this. It’s not fair to you.”