by Girard, Dara
Millicent released a heavy sigh. “Yes. He loved to go boating to relax, but a speeding boat with a group of drunken teenagers crashed into his. He was thrown overboard and his legs got caught in the propellers and were mangled up pretty bad. The surgeons were able to save his legs, but he could never use them again and he was left in a wheelchair. After the boating accident he was never the same. He became more focused on work and providing for my mother and myself, as if making up for his handicap. Mother passed away eight years ago, but he was still driven to work hard. He made a lot of money and made our lives comfortable, but he never laughed again.”
Millicent hesitated. “Wesley wanted me to mail that package to you only after he’d gone. Three weeks ago he was taken to the hospital for severe pneumonia. No one thought he would recover and the doctor’s weren’t optimistic, so I mailed it to you.” She bit her lip. “And then to everyone’s amazement he got better.”
Philly leaned forward. “You mean he’s not dead?’
Millicent shook her head. “And I didn’t tell him I mailed the package. Maybe a part of me hoped for this moment. That you’d come and give us a second chance.”
Philly jumped to her feet, recognizing the creator of those sumptuous smells. “Is he in the kitchen?”
“Yes. It’s his favorite place. The only place he’s most like the man he used to be. We had everything designed so that he can reach things. That was the one luxury he allowed himself. He says it helps him relax. Sometimes he cooks so much we donate the extra to the local shelter and he gives lessons to single mothers and fathers who are getting back on their feet and want to know quick, cheap meals to prepare for their families. He loves it. He says it makes him feel useful.”
“But I don’t understand. If he’s doing so well, why couldn’t he have told me? He’s a successful businessman, a teacher, a vibrant member of the community. I could have helped.”
“He doesn’t want help. And he doesn’t want you to see him as he is. I think he’s a wonderful viable man, but he only sees his wheelchair. The latest illness has caused some weight loss. He doesn’t want you to see him as an invalid, but as the young man he was.”
Philly set her handbag down. “That’s too bad.”
“Just be warned,” Millicent called after her as Philly marched into the kitchen. “He may not be happy to see you. He’s not the man you remember.”
***
Philly walked through the kitchen door and the scents of ginger and cinnamon mingled heavily in the air along with coconut milk and fresh bread. She noticed that the kitchen was large and professional with enough ventilation to keep the room from being stifling hot. Then she saw him. His head was bent over a sauce pan. She watched him quickly stir then replace the lid before wheeling himself over to the counter and she caught a glimpse of his profile. No, he wasn’t the vibrant young man he’d once been. His hair was now mostly gray, there were faint lines near his eyes, and his weight lost had aged him, but the T-shirt he wore clung to a muscled chest and arms. His back remained straight and he looked as if he’d fight any disease that tried to take him.
Philly gently knocked on the door, not wanting to startle him.
“Dinner will be ready in a minute,” he said without lifting his head.
“I’m here to apply for the secretarial position. I type very fast and I’m very detailed.”
Wesley spun around and stared at her.
She walked towards him. “Do you think you can use me?”
“What are you doing here?” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“Millicent sent me a package.”
He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “She wasn’t supposed to send that until after--”
“You died?” Philly finished. “She told me. I’m glad she didn’t wait until then.”
Wesley’s eyes darkened and his tone grew hard. “I don’t need you to pity me.”
“I don’t,” Philly said her tone equally hard. “I envy you.”
He blinked then narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“You were successful at everything you tried. I knew you would be. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. I failed. I never did train to be a secretary. I never owned a new dress or a car. No one has ever called me Ms. Hawkes with an air of respect. No, for the past twenty-five years I’ve looked after my brother’s family burying all hopes that I’d ever have a life of my own.” She folded her arms and leaned against the kitchen island. “Let me tell you what my life has been.” And she did, telling him of her life of drudgery taking care of her brother’s family, and the endless days and nights of labor. The hand me down clothes, the condescending looks and dark moments of lost hope. She knelt in front of him and looked up into his eyes. “Now do you see why I envy you?”
Wesley gazed down into her lovely uplifted face, humbled and ashamed that his pride and vanity had kept him away from her for so many years. He’d allowed his bitterness and selfishness to blind him from what he’d accomplished and all that he had to give. “Philomena, I’m sorry. I was a foolish man, but I wanted so much for you.”
“All I’ve ever wanted is a home of my own where I wouldn’t be berated or judged, a place where I could relax and be myself. Have I found that place?”
Wesley answered her with a kiss. Not the light kiss of youth, but the deep kiss of maturity. “You don’t have to marry me to get the money,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Everything is all arranged and --”
Philly shook her head. “You still don’t understand. I don’t want to marry you for the money. I want to marry you because you’re the only man I’ve ever loved. That day in the airport if you’d asked me I’d have said yes.”
“Even though I had nothing to offer?”
“All my life I’ve spent my days cooking and caring for others and just once I wanted to find someone willing to cook and care for me. That day, many years ago, I found that person in you. If you’d called, I would have come.”
Wesley gathered Philly in his arms and kissed her once again, his lips reminding her of cinnamon butter melting on toast and much more. When he finally released her all bitterness, regret, and anger had left his face and only love shone through. For a moment Philly saw the young man he’d been, but quickly realized she loved the older man he’d become.
“My darling Philomena. I’ll never let you go again.”
Philly wiggled off his lap feeling giddy and alive. She wanted to dance and sing and laugh. But instead she walked to the pantry and grabbed an apron. “Let me help you finish dinner.”
Wesley shook his head. “No. Go and tell Millicent that dinner’s ready.”
Philly happily replaced the apron on the hook then pushed through the kitchen doors feeling as though she could fly. She was released from the bondage of servitude. She’d never have to cook or serve again. She had a new life and a deep love. Her American dream had finally come true.
The End
Also Available
If you enjoyed this short story by National Bestselling Author Dara Girard you might enjoy her novels:
The Daughters of Winston Barnett where an immigrant father of five daughters has to deal with their love lives and ambitions.
Amazon | Barnes & Noble
The Sapphire Pendant where a woman retrieves a priceless heirloom and discovers a family secret and precious love.
Amazon | Barnes & Noble
Table for Two where a woman who’s given up on love meets a man who is hard to resist.
Amazon | Barnes & Noble
Gaining Interest where a savvy woman with a weakness for bad boys meets a man who definitely isn’t one. Or is he?
Amazon | Barnes & Noble
Find out about these books and many more on her website at http://www.daragirard.com and you can visit her on Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/DaraGirard
About the Author
National bestselling author Dara Girard is an award-winning, multi-published author of more than sixteen novels. Dara loves to travel, eat French pastries and h
ear from readers.
Visit www.daragirard.com to contact the author and find out more about her current and upcoming books.
Table of Contents
MISS LANA WILSON
A GIFT FOR PHILOMENA
ALSO AVAILABLE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
http://www.facebook.com/DaraGirard
