As You Wish

by Jude Deveraux

  “The future isn’t all bad,” Olivia said. “Sometimes good things happen.”

  “Glad to hear it. Why do you really want Willie to meet the Trumbull kid?”

  “So they can give Kevin and Alana a happy life. Or maybe it’s to ease my guilty conscience.” She opened the car door. “Why don’t you go have a beer somewhere while I do this?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Got any more people you want to match up? Uncle Freddy could use a girlfriend.”

  She stepped out of the car. “How about you and Betty Schneider?”

  “Not a bad idea. I hear she’s had a lot of experience.”

  “More than you,” Olivia shot at him.

  “If you want to believe that, go right ahead.”

  She couldn’t help smiling and by the time they reached the appliance store, Olivia realized that Kit had teased her out of her bad mood. But the idea of seeing Alan again, even of seeing the appliance store, bothered her. She must have been attracted to the man at the first. She could tell herself that it had all been baby lust. She’d just lost her child, and there was Alan with a baby who needed a mother. At the time, it had seemed perfect.

  But surely there had been some male-female attraction. Over the many years of living with him, it had disappeared, but it must have been there at the beginning.

  Kit took Olivia’s arm in his. “Whatever you’re so worried about, I’ll be right here.” He opened the glass door and they went inside.

  “Olivia!”

  She turned to see Estelle Latham standing to the side. Her new husband, Henry, was bending over a washing machine. For a moment, Olivia felt her knees weaken. This was the couple who would adopt the child Olivia gave up. They’d name her Portia after Livie’s mother’s given name, and even keep the nickname of Tisha. They would eventually take her away, and return years later with a teenage granddaughter. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  Olivia was holding tightly onto Kit’s arm or she might have fallen. Estelle was waiting to be introduced.

  “Hi, I’m Christopher. Kit. I work at Tattwell and Livie let me drive her into town.”

  She was glad for his tactful explanation, for not blurting about the engagement. But then, it was a small town. People probably knew what was going on with them.

  “Henry’s here to get us a new washer and I’m pushing for a dryer. I’m fed up with hanging clothes on a line.”

  Olivia still couldn’t speak. If she was pregnant, then so was Estelle. Only she would lose her baby in a car crash on a slick, rainy road. If I could prevent that, Olivia thought, maybe Estelle wouldn’t need to adopt. It wasn’t easy, but she willed her body to stand up straight. She let go of Kit’s arm. “Could I see you for a moment?” She looked at Kit. “Could you...?”

  “Occupy myself?” he said cheerfully. “Sure. I’ll look at blenders.”

  “Livie!” Estelle said as soon as they were alone. “Is that him? Everyone in town says you two are a love match. But what about Broadway? You worked so hard for that. I’d hate to see you give it up. Will he—?”

  “Estelle, I had a nightmare about you. It was really horrible.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful. But—”

  “You were expecting a baby and about six months along. You and Henry were in Pennsylvania visiting his parents and you were driving in a bad rainstorm. A big truck skidded and ran into your door. You lost the baby and you could never have more children, so you adopted a baby girl. But you didn’t tell her she was adopted until she found out when she was seventeen and she was really, really angry at you and Henry.”

  Estelle’s eyes were saucers. “Oh. I, uh... I...”

  “It was such a vivid dream that it was almost real. I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. You must swear to me that you won’t ever drive in a rainstorm. Especially not in Pennsylvania when you’re pregnant.”

  “I am,” Estelle said. “Expecting, I mean. But only Henry knows—and Dr. Everett, of course. I haven’t even told my mother. And we are planning to go to Pennsylvania in a few months. Henry might get a job there.”

  Olivia couldn’t think of anything else to say. She just took Estelle’s hands in hers and held them so tightly they hurt. Her eyes were pleading.

  “I promise,” Estelle said. When Olivia didn’t let go, she said, “I swear. On all that’s holy, no driving in the rain until our child is safely delivered.”

  Olivia released her hands and Estelle slipped her arm through Olivia’s. “I had no idea you thought so much about me. Thank you. Uh-oh. Here comes Alan.”

  Olivia looked across the many people and the appliances with their big sale signs to see Alan Trumbull coming toward them. He was a good-looking young man. Not particularly tall, but he had nice hair and big brown eyes. She knew that he would keep his body trim. All that golf, she thought, then couldn’t help her anger.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Estelle said. “He’s going to give your handsome Yankee some competition.”

  A customer stopped Alan to ask a question about a refrigerator. He won’t know or care, Olivia thought, and sure enough, Alan stopped, but he frowned in annoyance. She looked at Estelle. “What do you mean?”

  “Alan Trumbull has had a crush on you since high school.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Of course you never knew. You were the queen of the Drama Society, a princess on stage, and Alan was just a guy who played a flute in the band.”

  “Alan played the flute?”

  “According to the bandleader, he wasn’t very good. We girls said it was just so he could sit at your feet while you were on stage.”

  Olivia was looking at Estelle in disbelief. “Are you sure of this? I don’t even remember Alan in high school.”

  “My point exactly. The day you left for college, that night we girls held a pity party for Alan in that tavern out by Tattwell. Poor guy was miserable.”

  Olivia was looking at Estelle in shock.

  “Uh-oh, here he comes—and your pretty boyfriend is right behind him.”

  Alan stopped in front of Olivia and stared at her in silence.

  Her stomach clenched. She knew that look so very well. He wanted her to do something, fix something. There was a problem so of course Olivia was to take care of it. There had been times when she’d been so overwhelmed with child care, running a home and the stores, that she’d nearly burst into tears. Never, ever, never would he tell her what he wanted. He’d just stand there and stare until she figured it out.

  Kit put his arm tightly around Olivia’s shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin. “I’m Christopher Montgomery,” he said. “And you are?”

  Alan didn’t so much as glance at Kit, but kept staring at Olivia’s pale face. “Good to see you again, Livie. Why don’t we go somewhere and talk?” His tone was so proprietary, so full of ownership, that she took a step forward—as though she meant to obey him.

  But Kit didn’t release her. “We have some work to do.” He led her to a corner of the store. “What the hell was that about?” Kit demanded. “Old boyfriend? That guy acted like he owned you. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here to see him?”

  Between the emotion of seeing Estelle and Alan, Olivia felt like she might collapse. She couldn’t think clearly, and right now the past and the future were all one. “I never went on a date with him, but I was married to him for many years. It hasn’t happened yet, but it looks like he remembers it anyway.”

  Kit was staring at her, speechless.

  When she looked up at him, her eyes were bleak. “Now you see why I didn’t want you to come with me. What I have to do is beyond anyone’s power to understand, much less accept. I have to go. I need to find Willie, who will someday be the mother of his daughter, Alana. They haven’t met yet so I need to introduce them to each other.”

 
Kit was still looking at her without comprehension, and she turned away. As much as she dreaded it, she knew she had to do things to make the future right.

  Habit, she thought. What was that saying about doing something three times and it will become a habit? How about doing it over and over for more than half of your life? The store with all its appliances in the ghastly “harvest gold” and “avocado green” was as familiar to her as breathing. As was Alan. All it took was one lift of his eyebrows and out of habit, she knew what he expected of her.

  Why hadn’t that girl Arrieta warned her that this might happen? Probably because she didn’t know, Olivia thought.

  Her fear, one that was seeping into her like some flesh-eating parasite, was that if she wasn’t successful at drastically changing things in the three weeks she’d been given, that she’d repeat her past mistakes. When she no longer remembered a world of computers and cell phones, would Alan look at her in that way that said she belonged to him and she’d go with him?

  She glanced at Kit. In the future, she’d spent only a year with him, but she’d had a lifetime with Alan. Habit was a very, very strong pull.

  Kit took her hand in his. “It doesn’t matter what I think or believe,” he said softly. “Tell me what you need and let me help.” He smiled at her. “Please.”

  Olivia took a few breaths and squeezed his hand. Willie was just coming in the door and looking around. “I need to get Alan and her together.”

  “Now you are talking fantasy. You want scrawny, flabby Trumbull to look at her when you are in the room?”

  Olivia couldn’t help smiling—but then it’s how she’d always felt. Vain, yes, but Willie wasn’t especially pretty or built or smart. Yet Alan had liked her better. “Thank you,” she said. “So how do we do it?”

  Kit smiled at the we. “Empty the earth of all people so only those two are left. They might notice each other but I’m not sure.”

  In spite of the trauma she’d felt since entering the store, Olivia laughed. Alan was wearing that expression she knew so well, that he expected her to follow him.

  But Kit’s sarcasm, and the way he was holding her hand so securely, was giving her courage. “There’s a storage room,” she whispered and Kit bent down to hear her. “Down the hall to the left. If we lock them in there for a while they might realize that they like each other.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Think the girl will go with me if I ask her to?”

  She was so grateful for his help that when she looked up at him he seemed to have starlight encircling his head. “I think she’ll believe she’s died and gone to heaven.”

  “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll show you what you can do with a vibrating washing machine.”

  “How do you know that?” she snapped.

  Smiling, Kit let go of her hand and went toward Willie, who was looking lost.

  “I’m glad you sent him away,” Alan said. He was looking her up and down in a way she’d always disliked. “I knew that as soon as you returned to Summer Hill you’d come see me.”

  Has he always been this arrogant? Olivia wondered. She knew he was after they were married, but if he’d done this at first, she wouldn’t have married him. No. At first he’d been quiet and unassuming and helpless, she thought. And she had jumped in and taken over. “How have you been?”

  “Better now that you’re here.”

  “Alan,” a customer said, “I was wondering about—”

  “Ask a salesman,” he said quickly.

  The tone he used sent Olivia back in time. After they were married, Alan would snap, “Ask Olivia.” Behind him, the door opened and in came a pretty young woman Olivia had only met once. She was Kevin’s mother. During the birth, a blood clot had erupted and she’d died instantly.

  “I thought you were going out with Diane.” Olivia nodded toward the young woman.

  “I was but, now that you’re here, I’ll let her go.”

  Olivia had a flash of panic. What about Kevin? Did he have to have Diane as his mother? If Alan and she didn’t marry, would Kevin be born?

  She saw Kit across the room. He was walking with Willie and listening to whatever she was saying. Behind his back, he pointed toward the end of the hall and Olivia shook her head. They had the wrong woman! In spite of all Kevin’s ingratitude, Olivia had helped raise him and she couldn’t risk that he’d cease to exist. Willie was going to have to take care of herself.

  She smiled at Alan. “I seem to remember a big closet at the back of this building.”

  With a smile that said he’d won, he led the way.

  When they passed Kit, she said, “Not Willie, get Diane.”

  Kit took only seconds to recover from his confusion, then he went back into the store.

  Fifteen minutes later, Olivia and Kit were walking away and smiling. She held up her hand to him but he had no idea what she meant. “It’s a high five.” She showed him how to slap hands. Behind them, they couldn’t hear the yells of the two people they’d just locked in the big closet.

  As they got back to the showroom, Kit halted. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Much,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “So why’d you stay married to that jerk for so many years?”

  Considering that she was twenty-two years old and had never been married, what he said was absurd—and funny. “Great sex,” she said.

  “Anything you’d like to teach me?”

  She slipped her arm in his. “I don’t think I need to teach you anything.”

  His eyes turned hot. “How about if we leave this place?” He nodded down the hall toward the locked door of the closet. “Unless you want to release them now.”

  “No, I’ll call later. I think they need a few hours together. We can—” She broke off because she saw Mr. Trumbull sitting in his office. He’d unexpectedly died of a heart attack the year before Olivia returned to town, and she didn’t really know him. But she knew he’d had the reputation of being an honest, hardworking man—and he and his son never got along. Their arguments were legendary.

  “I need to do something.” She tapped on his door, then opened it.

  Mr. Trumbull looked up. “Why, it’s pretty little Olivia Paget, isn’t it? And who is your lucky young man?”

  “Christopher Montgomery, sir.” Kit held out his hand to shake.

  “I just wanted to say that my father speaks very highly of you,” she said. “He says you were a war hero.”

  Mr. Trumbull smiled, obviously pleased at the accolade. “Not a hero, but I did my part.”

  Olivia picked up a little framed photo of Mr. Trumbull in his army uniform, his chest adorned with a long line of medals. “Didn’t you give Audie Murphy a run for his money?”

  Mr. Trumbull looked like he might blush. Audie Murphy was the most decorated man in WWII and he went on to star in some movies.

  Kit was standing to the side, waiting to see what she was up to.

  “I hate to be a pest, Mr. Trumbull,” she said, “but Uncle Freddy wants a new stove. I was wondering if we could get some prices on something gas, thirty-six inches? I’d ask the salesmen but you know Uncle Freddy, he only trusts you.”

  “Sure.” Mr. Trumbull got up. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Anything for Uncle Freddy.”

  As soon as the door closed, Olivia went to her knees and started using her nails to pull at the cheap, thin paneling on the wall. “Hand me that letter opener, would you?”

  Instead, Kit knelt beside her, put his hands on the paneling, and pulled up. The thin wood came away on one side.

  Olivia put her hand inside and reached up as far as she could. She withdrew a long, narrow wooden box.

  “What’s in it?”

  “It’s full of Mr. Trumbull’s war medals.” She hesitated, then thought, Why not tell? “Alan did it. He was sick of hearing how his
dad was a hero, so he stuck the box of medals behind the paneling, then messed up the office and said there’d been a robbery. I found it years later when I remodeled the office.”

  “How about if we let Mr. Trumbull think he found it?” Kit slipped the box back behind the paneling, but left the nails sticking out.

  “I don’t know what happened to Alan,” Mr. Trumbull said as he returned to the office. “He was supposed to be helping on the floor tonight.”

  “Oh, you know Alan,” Olivia said. “If there’s work to be done, he disappears.”

  Mr. Trumbull looked at her in shock, then laughed.

  “I bet he’s out playing golf,” Olivia said.

  Mr. Trumbull laughed harder. “I shouldn’t think it’s funny, but his mother—”

  “Believes Alan can do anything,” Olivia said. Behind her, Kit was doing something with his foot.

  “He’s a clever boy but...”

  “He’d rather spend time figuring out how not to do something than to do it,” Olivia said.

  Mr. Trumbull was still laughing. “Oh, Livie, I had no idea you knew my son so well. Why don’t you come over for dinner some night? Get to know all of us better?”

  She stopped laughing. It was as though he was matchmaking her with his son. She knew how lazy he was, therefore she should marry him? Scary concept!

  “She’s taken,” Kit said loudly. “Mr. Trumbull, I seem to have stepped on a nail and I can’t move my shoe. I’m caught on a corner of the paneling and there seems to be something under here. Would you mind giving me a hand?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  After they left Trumbull’s, Olivia wanted to go home, but when Kit took her hand and led her down the street, she was glad. She was feeling full of energy at what they’d just accomplished. Maybe—possibly—she had broken the tie between her and Alan. Whatever happened now, she might not find herself back with him.

  The drugstore was still open and they sat down at the counter. The soda fountain would be removed in the mideighties to make room for gaudy racks of big-name cosmetics.