Wishmakers

by Dorothy Garlock

  This is absolutely unreal, Gloria thought as he guided her to the door with an arm about her waist. Unreal as it was, she had never been as physically aware of a man as she was this big, gruff, hairy, sometimes aggravating man, who was so thoughtful of her and her son. Equally unreal was the overwhelming feeling of security she had when she was with him.

  The new privy stood like a sentinel in the light from the sliver of moon coming up over the crest of the mountain. Gloria was not a stranger to outdoor toilets and realized this one had been constructed for comfort as well as for privacy and sanitation. She chuckled when she saw the reading material stacked neatly on the bench—Sports Illustrated, Field and Stream, Playboy. She'd have to bring out Women's World, she thought with a suppressed giggle. But on second thought it was too cold to linger longer than was absolutely necessary.

  Jack was waiting for her on the path. “I'll go down and see old Cliff while you get ready for bed.”

  “It's awfully dark, isn't it?”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “No.”

  “Good girl. Will fifteen minutes give you enough time?”

  “I suppose so. What about Peeping Toms? You don't have shades.” He stood close to her and she had to tilt her head to look into his eyes.

  “We usually have only four-legged Peeping Toms, but tonight there might be a two-legged one.” He stuck out his tongue and began to pant and breathe heavily.

  “Stop teasing, you…fathead!” Laughing, she turned the beam of the flashlight on his face in retaliation.

  “Gimme that, you squirrely little screwball!” He put his arms around her and snatched the flashlight from her hand. Her low, soft laugh pleased every part of him. “I like to hear you laugh, Glory.”

  “Do you, now?” she murmured flippantly. “Here's your jacket. Get lost and don't come back for at least fifteen minutes.”

  She thrust the fleece-lined coat into his hands and stepped into the building. She closed the door, leaned her back against it, and wondered if she had lost her mind. Just being with him brought her pure, happy enjoyment. She was in love with this man; she was deeply, desperately, head over heels in love with this unconventional social outcast. She felt her heart leap, then settle into a pounding that left her breathless. Nothing good could come from loving such a man, her practical mind told her. But, oh, God, the gentle way he had kissed her! It couldn't have been a lie; he did care for her. She stood there for a long while trying to accept this totally impossible situation.

  Gloria was in her long granny gown and woolly robe when Jack knocked on the back door. When he came in, he had a stack of firewood in his arms.

  “It's going to get cold tonight.” He knelt down in front of the cookstove and shoved in a few sticks of wood.

  Gloria stared at his broad back, his shaggy dark hair. He was a sweet and gentle man, but he could be angry and violent too. What made him this way? she wondered. She searched her memory for a scrap of information about his past and realized that although she had been intimate with him, he had told her absolutely nothing about himself.

  He stood up and closed the firebox door with his foot. “In the morning I'll start a fire in the heater and bring in enough wood to keep you warm all day. I told Cliff I'd be gone for a while tomorrow and for him to stick around.”

  “You're leaving us here alone?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “No. I'm surprised. I didn't think you'd bring us out here and leave us.” Gloria turned to hide the disappointment on her face.

  Jack walked over and stood beside her. “I'm not abandoning you and Peter. You're safe here. I'm going into town to make a few phone calls; I know a lawyer in Chicago who can tell us what we're up against. Trust me, sweetheart. Masterson won't find you here, but if by some miracle he does, I'll not let him take you and Peter back to Ohio.”

  “He might find you.”

  “I hope so. It'll save me the trouble of looking for him.”

  “Oh, Jack—”

  “Don't worry. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”

  “I don't see how,” she said grimly. “He buys everything! He'll file charges against you and have you put in jail!” Her face creased in worry lines, and she gripped his upper arms. “I don't want you to get in trouble on our account.”

  “Would it bother you if I was in trouble?” His voice was soft and his beautiful green eyes were achingly anxious. Gloria yearned to tell him it would devastate her if he was in trouble, but of course she couldn't do that.

  “You know it would! You've been a good…friend.”

  “Friend?” The word came out slowly. “I want to be your friend, but I want to be your husband and your lover too.” Her head was lowered, but the raw pain in his voice made her raise her eyes and look deeply into his. They stood for a long, silent moment, gazing at each other as if mesmerized, and then he said softly, “It's strange, Glory, I didn't think I was ready for a woman in my life. But I stayed away from you, and discovered I'm only half alive when I'm not with you.”

  Gloria's hands dropped from his arms and she moved away from him. She stood with her back to him, her head bowed. Oh, Lord, she thought. I don't want to hurt him! If I only had myself to consider, I'd live with him and take what happiness I could get. But I've got Peter. I want my son to know the security of belonging to a family, not to be attached to someone who would be here today and gone tomorrow. I can't tie myself to a man who is content to live a hand-to-mouth existence.

  “Please understand. I've got to think of Peter.”

  “It's a short life we live, Glory. How people feel about each other is much more important than money.”

  “I know that. Oh, how I know that. It's other things, Jack. Please don't talk about it.”

  He pulled her back against him. “When I'm near you, I can't keep my hands off you,” he whispered in her ear. “It's more than wanting to take you to bed, it's wanting to hold you gently, take care of you, have you there when I wake in the morning, and all the rest of the day.”

  She turned and put her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jack, I don't want to hurt you. I don't know what I would have done without you these last few weeks. You've been so good to me and to Peter.” She began to cry, silently, with tears streaming down her face.

  “Sweetheart, don't cry. I know what's bothering you. You think I'm a lazy, shiftless bum, squatting on another man's property. You think I'm a social dropout living on welfare, and you'd be ashamed to take me home to your folks.” She buried her face against him and refused to look at him. He held her for a long while, stroking her back. “It's all right, my honey, my love.” The words were torn from him in an agonized whisper.

  “I owe you so much.”

  His hands on her back stopped for a minute. He took a deep breath. “Mention that again, dear heart, and I'll have to do one of two things—spank you, or kiss you. You owe me absolutely nothing.” His voice was shaky and his breathing ragged in her ear. “Come sit with me and let me hold you.”

  Jack took the Indian blanket from the back of the big armchair, sat down, and drew her carefully down on his lap. He held her tightly to him and tucked the blanket around her. It was like holding a skinny little kitten, he thought, cuddling her close against his chest. His face was engulfed in the fragrance of her hair, and her body felt warm against his. He drew a very unsteady breath, his mind racing, thoughts of the past and the future tumbling over each other.

  Glory, Glory, I was so sure that after I lost Wendy, I'd never love anything or anyone again. And here I am, desperately, hopelessly in love with you. I want you for my wife. I want to raise Peter as my son, I want us to be a family. I want! I want! His mind skidded in another direction and he thought with a sudden realization—Evans, you bastard! You want it all without giving up a thing!

  An hour passed while his mind grappled with endless questions. He tilted his head so he could look into the face of the woman in his arms. She was asleep, and she was softly, sweetly, sublimely be
autiful! He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. He had never noticed the unbelievable delicacy of her face, her bones, her shellpink ear, so perfectly formed. Her pink lips were slightly parted and the breath that came from them was warm and moist; he fought the urge to kiss them lest he awaken her. She was a curious combination of innocence and sensuality, which had become an obsession with him. He felt lightheaded with all the swelling and churning going on inside him.

  Long past midnight Jack rose from the chair with Gloria in his arms and carried her to the big bed. He stood holding her for a long moment, reluctant to put her down. Then he gently placed her beside Peter and covered them. He turned off the light and went back to the chair. He had some heavy thinking to do before morning.

  As soon as Gloria was awake, she knew that she and Peter were alone in the building. The room was filled with light. She sat up in bed and looked toward the front windows. There was snow on the roof of the building across the street. She slipped her bare feet into her slippers and picked up the robe that lay on the foot of the bed. While putting it on she crossed the room and peered out the window. A foot of snow covered the ground. The entire town looked fresh and clean.

  She stared at the empty space in front of the building where Jack had left the Jeep last night. The fact that there were no tracks in the snow told her he must have left hours ago. Snow was still coming down in huge fluffy flakes. It seemed to her the whole world was white, silent, and eerie, and she and Peter were alone in the center of it.

  A tight little core of misery, Gloria stood beside the window looking out on the vastness, her body erect, her eyes wide and unseeing, her heart beating in painful bursts. Confused and terribly lonely, she wondered how she would get through the day.

  When Peter awakened he was disappointed to find that Jack had gone. He sulked through breakfast, but brightened with the promise that he could go out and play in the snow. It took ten minutes to get him into his snowsuit and boots and out the door; in another ten minutes, however, he was back inside. It wasn't much fun playing alone; Gloria understood. She let him sit at the table with a pencil and paper, but that didn't last long either.

  “When's Jack coming back?” He asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  “I don't know, honey. He'll be back sometime today. Why don't you play with the kitten?”

  “Mom…”

  “Sshhh! I hear something.” Gloria went to the window and looked down the snow-covered street. The empty buildings stood gaunt and lonely, like silent sentinels, on either side of it. The sound that had alerted her was louder now; it reminded her of the buzz saw her grandfather had used on the farm in Ohio.

  But it wasn't a buzz saw. Two squat, dark objects came skimming over the snow. Snowmobiles. They came into town from the far end, stirring up a fine flurry of snow in their wake. The dark-clad, helmeted figures looked as if they were from outer space. The machines came through town and stopped in front of the building where Jack lived as if they knew exactly where they were going.

  Gloria darted back from the window. Fright set her heart pounding like a drum.

  “Come here, Peter,” she whispered. Frightened by the urgency in his mother's voice, Peter ran to her. Gloria wrapped her arms around him and the two of them crouched in the corner beside the door.

  “Be quiet, honey!”

  “Who is it?”

  “I don't know, but—” The sharp rap on the door cut off her words. She glanced quickly to assure herself that the bar was in place. The loud banging came again. Gloria's fear was slowly turning to panic. Marvin had sent someone to get her and Peter!

  “He ain't here,” the man on the porch yelled to his companion.

  “There's a fire inside.”

  “Yeah, he probably built it up before he left. He'll be back. We might meet him on the road.”

  “How about the old man down at the other end?”

  “He don't know nothin'. Let's go.”

  When the roar of the motors had faded in the distance, Gloria drew a deep breath and released Peter so he could go look out the window.

  “They're gone, Mom. Why didn't we talk to them?”

  Gloria didn't answer her son. She was more aware than ever that the drama with Marvin was still unfinished. She tried not to think about it, because to think about it made her feel hopelessly panicked.

  Irrationally Gloria felt outraged at Jack. Jack had deserted her when she most needed him. Her anger soon threatened to give way to tears; she now realized how much she had grown to depend on him. She pulled herself together and took a roast from the freezer; if she didn't keep busy she'd lose her mind, she thought as she worked with quick, jerky motions. A voice in her head berated her: See what happens, you jerk, when you count on a man like Jack Evans? He takes you to the middle of nowhere and goes off and leaves you.

  Instantly she was ashamed, and she made herself breathe deeply to calm herself. “What if those men were thugs Marvin had sent to beat him up! Please, God, don't let them find him, don't let anything happen to him!” The thought haunted her mind.

  It was the longest, most miserable day of Gloria's life. From the moment the men on the snowmobiles left town she had a sick, uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. At first she was angry because Jack had left her without saying where he was going or what he was going to do. Then, after thinking about it, she decided that Jack was a man who explained himself to no one. Life with him would be one crisis after another.

  “But, oh, dear God,” she muttered to herself. “I love him and I'd be far more unhappy without him than with him.”

  Jack looked out the window of the phone booth and watched the snowplow scraping the street while he listened to George Fisher, his lawyer and friend.

  “If he's got a court order there isn't much you can do, Jack. I know the arrogant, puffed-up son of a bitch; he wants to be governor of Ohio so bad he can taste it. I'd run a bluff on him if I were you. You could tell him you'll take him to court for mentally abusing the child. The newspapers would love it.”

  “That's a good idea, George.”

  “Are you in love with the woman, Jack?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I'm glad for you. You've needed something stable in your life for a long time.”

  “By the way, I'm not coming back to Chicago. If you get a chance to sell the apartment houses, go ahead.”

  “It's been a good income. Are you sure you want out of the real estate business completely?”

  “I'll keep Hangtown. Let the rest go, George. I want to try my hand at running a motel. A few years down the line I might even consider making Hangtown a tourist attraction.”

  “I don't doubt that you'd do it, if you set your mind to it. Okay, I'll put the apartments up for sale.”

  “I might have to get back to you about Masterson. He's not getting his hands on Gloria and Peter. If I can't run a bluff on him, I'll take him to court; then you might end up with the apartment houses.”

  “Just don't lose your temper and get arrested for assault and battery.”

  Jack laughed. “I'll give it a good try. Bye.”

  He turned up the collar of his coat, left the booth, and walked quickly down the street to the hotel. The black limousine in the parking lot could only belong to Masterson.

  “What room is Masterson in?” he asked the desk clerk.

  “Two oh three.” The clerk looked up and stared at the big man in a fur-lined jacket with snowflakes on his thick, dark hair and beard. “But…”

  “But what?” Jack's green eyes bored into the man's face.

  “Nothing.”

  Jack didn't wait for the elevator. He took the stairs two at a time. He rapped on the door of room 203.

  “Who is it?”

  “Room service.”

  The door swung wide open and Jack was inside before Marvin could stop him. He sputtered and drew several deep breaths before he could regain his composure.

  “Get out of here!”

&
nbsp; “In a minute,” Jack said evenly. “I want to make a few things clear to you.”

  “Get out, or I'll call the police.”

  “You try it, and I'll break your arm.” Jack spoke softly, but he stared fixedly at Marvin.

  “I've put in a call for the sheriff. He'll be here any moment.”

  “Then you'd better listen to what I have to say before he gets here. I just talked to my lawyer in Chicago, who, by the way, is a good friend of the chairman of the Republican party in your district.”

  “So what?” Marvin sneered. “I'm one of the largest contributors to the party.”

  “So this, you bastard!” Jack took a step forward and grabbed the front of Marvin's shirt. “If you make another move to force Gloria to come back to you, you'll find yourself in court on child abuse charges. Then the Republican party will dissociate themselves from you so fast it'll make your head swim, with or without your large donations.”

  “Why—why, I've never laid a hand on that kid!”

  “There is such a thing as mental abuse, you know. That kid is scared to death of you! I wonder how the voters in your district would feel about a candidate who abused his wife and his child?”

  Marvin's cheeks turned red. “I never abused her. I never even touched her after our wedding night.”

  Jack stood back and scratched his beard. “There's not a red-blooded man in your district who'd understand a man having a wife like Gloria and sleeping with her one time in five years. That would make mighty good copy for the tabloids.”

  “Damn you! I gave her everything.”

  “Everything but love and companionship.”

  “What can you give her? Look at you,” Marvin sneered. “She wouldn't have been seen on the streets of Cincinnati talking to you.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But I've got a heart full of love for that woman, and, by God, you'd better leave her alone and flag your ass out of town while you've got one to flag. Gloria is through with you. Do I make myself clear? So get on the phone and call that judge, or I'm setting the wheels in motion that will ruin your political career whether a jury finds you guilty or not.”