by Susan Gable
“Okay, okay. They’re closed.”
He turned to her. Moonlight flickered softly over the gentle features of her upturned face. Her delicately shaped lips were slightly parted. Moonlight, closed eyes, parted lips… God help him, she looked for all the world like a woman waiting to be kissed.
Suddenly the need to kiss her ignited and burned like a wildfire in a drought-scorched forest. He struggled to subdue the impulse—a kiss was the last thing either of them needed.
“Well?” she prompted.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, here.” He closed her hands around the cup. “You can open your eyes now.”
As if on cue, two of the tiny creatures flashed in unison. “Oh, fireflies.” Her voice caught. “Daniel always loved catching fireflies in the summer.”
“Trudy told the girls that if you make a wish and the fireflies flash when you release them, your wish will come true.”
She bit down on her lower lip as she stared at the lightning bugs. “If only it were that easy.”
“It is to kids.”
“Yes. Be good and Santa will bring you what you want, the tooth fairy will swap your lost teeth for cash, and Mommy will kiss it and make it better.”
She glanced back up at him and once more a solitary tear tracked down her cheek. His final shred of professionalism slipped away, and suddenly, he was just a man. He longed to gather her in his arms and soothe away all her pain.
“But Daniel didn’t live long enough to lose a tooth, and Mommy wasn’t able to kiss it and make it better.”
“I know.” And a kiss from James wouldn’t make anything better for her, but dammit, he was tempted to try. “And so you’ve stopped believing in magic.”
“Haven’t you? After all that Molly’s been through, do you still believe in magic, James?”
“I still believe in miracles. That there’s healing in laughter, and in the kindness of strangers. I believe in angels like you…and like Daniel.”
“And what about firefly wishes? Do you believe in them?” She held the cup closer to his face.
Between the flickering insects and the dappled moonlight breaking through the swaying trees, he could see her eyes. He saw a tiny spark of hope, and he just couldn’t crush it, any more than he could crush Molly’s faith in magic. He reached for that unwavering faith of childhood that he’d tried to instill in his daughter, the knowledge that all things were possible. The Unsinkable Molly McClain. She’d survived against the odds. “Yes,” he whispered. “I believe in firefly wishes.”
And in that moment, he did.
“Good. Then wish with me, James. There are four fireflies. Two apiece.”
“But Molly wanted you to have them.”
“You believe more than I do. And I’m sure she won’t mind if I share them with her dad.” She offered him a quivering smile. “Your daughter is kind and loving, James. You should be proud of her.”
“I am.”
Rachel removed the elastic band from the cup’s rim, and lifted the edge of the plastic wrap. “Ready?”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Barrier removed, the tiny insects crawled to the lip of the cup. The first one flitted into the air and hovered near their heads.
“That’s yours! Wish, James!”
I wish healing for your aching heart, Rachel.
As it flew off, the bug’s tail light flashed in farewell, and a gentle warmth flooded him.
“You got it. Here go the rest, get ready.” She closed her eyes as the trio launched themselves off the cup.
He held his breath. She scrunched her face tighter with the effort of wishing. He quickly glanced upward. Only one of the little insects flashed.
Rachel blinked rapidly. “Blast, I missed them. Did they flash?”
“Yeah. Yeah, they did.” A small lie, but then, it was the believing that was important, right? The power of positive thinking?
“Good.”
The relief on her face made him curious. “What did you wish for?”
“I figured unselfish wishes were best, so I wished for other people.”
“You did? Who?”
“Isn’t there a rule that says if you tell, then it doesn’t come true?”
“Not that I know of.”
“My first wish was for you and Molly.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I wished Molly’s new heart will stay strong and healthy so…so you never know this pain.”
His own heart skipped a beat, then tried to crawl into his throat. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. How the hell did he respond to that? She’d meant well, but, damn, talk about hitting where it hurt. He cleared his throat. “Thanks. No parent should ever know the pain of losing a child.”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s just not right. You never expect it.”
“What was your second wish?” he asked, seeing the clouds gathering in her eyes again.
“That the parents of Molly’s donor would know peace in their loss.”
“That’s a very good wish, one that I make frequently.” He captured her empty hand and gave it a little squeeze. “One I wish for you, too, Rachel.”
She lowered her head. “Maybe one day.”
“Not maybe. One day you will. It will get easier, I promise. You might not know it, but you made big strides toward that today.”
“And how am I supposed to face those people tomorrow? That’s why I was packing. I couldn’t stand the idea of them looking at me and knowing, feeling sorry for me.”
“Hey.” He released her hand and lifted her chin with the tip of his index finger until she met his gaze. “Pity and empathy are two different things. You’ve faced these parents’ greatest nightmare.”
“What did you wish, James?”
“Me?” Not about to confess his first wish, and having forgotten to make a second, he cast about for something to lighten the mood, something to distract her. “I wished…” He skimmed the underside of her bottom lip with his thumb. “I wished for a kiss.”
Her eyes widened. She drew back her head, but he didn’t release her. “You did not.”
“Did so.” Or might have, anyway, had he thought about it. He traced the M-shape of her upper lip, delighting in the silky texture beneath his fingertip. “I very much want to kiss you, Rachel.”
Her mouth quivered under his fingers and she shook her head ever so slightly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Probably not, but right now I don’t really care.”
She slipped her palm to his chest and pushed.
He dropped his hands from her face and sighed, struggling to control the urge to dip his head and taste her. “Okay. Then how about breakfast with Molly and me in the morning?”
“Um, I…”
“You have to eat.” Instinct told him her thinness had a lot to do with the emotional baggage she carried, not vanity. How many meals has she missed over the past year and a half? “You might as well do it with us.”
“Maybe.” She pressed the empty plastic cup into his hand. “Give this back to Molly so she can catch more fireflies if she wants. And tell her I said thanks for the wishes.” She turned away from him and started up the creaky steps to her cabin.
“Rachel?”
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“There’s no time limit on when firefly wishes come true. I believe I’m going to get mine. Eventually.” He winked at her.
The tiny, halfhearted smile she gave him in return made it all worthwhile. “Maybe. Good night, James.”
“’Night.”
He definitely wasn’t good at listening to warnings.
Not even the ones he gave himself.
“SHH.” MOLLY PRESSED Cherish back into the bushes across the dirt road from Miss Rachel’s cabin. “Here he comes.” The girls crouched among the branches, hiding as her dad walked by. He had a weird expression on his face, one she’d never seen before. His eyes seemed wider than normal. Then he shoo
k his head, and his lips tightened into a thin line, like he did sometimes when he wasn’t happy with her. Molly covered her mouth with her hand and held her breath until he’d passed. Then she exhaled softly.
“Did you see that?” Cherish whispered. “He was going to kiss her.”
“Really? Do you think so?” Molly stood up and danced in place, causing the shrub’s leaves to rustle. “That’s great! It’s working. My plan is working! We need to keep them together somehow. Hey, if they go on that date, maybe I can stay with you while they’re gone. Maybe Dad will even let me sleep over in your cabin. Wouldn’t that be neat? I’ve never gone on a sleepover.”
Cherish brushed dirt from her knees, then straightened up and stared at her. “Never?”
Molly shook her head. “Grandma’s house doesn’t count.”
“That’s horrible.” Moonlight glinted off Cherish’s short blond hair and her friend grinned widely at her. “We’ll just have to get them together. And soon, all he’ll be thinking about is Miss Rachel.”
“Cool. And maybe then he’ll forget about stopping me from having fun.”
CHAPTER SIX
EARLY MORNING SUNBEAMS danced through the leaves, and birds chirped as Rachel strolled back up the overgrown path from the mist-shrouded lake. She kicked a rock and sent it skittering into the bushes.
Sleep hadn’t come easily the night before, and while she wanted to believe that the majority of her thoughts had been about Daniel and the transplant children she’d met, she had to admit James had taken up way too many of them—far more than his share. Far more than was wise.
Finally there had been the dream.
With James. And the fireflies. And…kissing.
Lots of kissing. Heart-pounding, toe-curling, bone-melting kissing.
Kissing that led to more. Much more…
She shook her head to throw off the lingering effects of the dream, the wonderful jumpy feeling that lodged in the warmth of her stomach.
The reality was that after kissing came sex, which led to surprise pregnancies and unplanned marriages, which resulted in wandering husbands, separations, fathers distracted by their new bimbos…
Her throat tightened. And terrible accidents.
She swallowed hard.
She could be forgiven being scramble-brained under the influence of moonlight, fireflies and caramel-colored eyes filled with compassion, but in the broad daylight, Rachel would allow herself no such leeway.
She rounded the corner of the cabin and came face-to-face with the Goat, which only served to reinforce the idea that kissing led to trouble.
Coated in dust from the dirt roads, the car bore only a passing resemblance to the proud, clean, shiny toy that had spent most of its time in the garage. The bushes rustled and a tiny red squirrel darted out, streaked across the road and clambered onto the hood of the GTO. He posed there, a natural hood ornament, whiskers twitching as he rubbed his face with his little paws.
Roman would have had a fit.
What would James say? The thought appeared from nowhere, but she considered it. He seemed to appreciate the Goat almost as much as Roman had. He occasionally even exuded the same smooth self-confidence her ex had.
But last night, Roman would have belittled her hesitation and kissed her, anyway.
Where James had actually responded to her cues and not pushed. Which made him all the more attractive.
The squirrel darted off the car as Rachel stomped her heel into the dirt. “Trouble, nothing but trouble.”
“What’s trouble?” Don ambled up the dirt road, strings from his ragged denim cutoffs swinging against his thighs.
She sighed. “Given my life of late, the correct question is ‘What’s not trouble?”’
He halted in his tracks, eyebrows creeping toward his shaggy salt-and-pepper hair. He nodded at her, one hand caressing his beard. “Wow. That was actually an open, honest acknowledgment of the fact that your life isn’t what you want it to be. Good for you.”
“Oh, puhleeze. Next thing, you’ll be asking me how I feel about that.”
“How do you feel this morning?”
“Just fine and dandy. Thanks for asking.”
Don shook his head. “There goes our honesty.”
“People don’t want honest, Don, they want comfortable. And guess what? People aren’t comfortable when you start blathering on about how rotten your life is, or that your son died and left behind a big hole and you’re not quite sure how you’re going to make it through another day. When people ask you how you are, they want you to say fine.”
“I know about son-size holes in your life. And I know you’re not fine.”
She studied the chipped pink nail polish on her big toe, then lightly scuffed the dirt with the front of her sandal.
“Rachel?”
She glanced back at him.
“My son was twenty-three when he died. He left behind a wife and a two-year-old daughter. I’ve been in the place where you are.” He paused and ran his hand over his beard again. “But life is about living, and you need to move on. Figure out how best to honor Daniel’s memory. By letting life pass you by? Or by grabbing hold of it and squeezing out all you can?”
“I’m trying to carry on.” Like the good soldier I am. Dad should be proud. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“You need to do more than carry on, Rachel. But it’s a start. A good start.” He offered her a pensive smile. “I’m here to help. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Oh, tons.”
“Great.” His smile widened. “Like what?”
“Like what do you do with this place for the other fifty weeks of the year?” Rachel swept her arms in an expansive gesture to indicate the camp.
Don chuckled. “Okay, change the subject. That’s fine. In the summer, we run a number of other programs, not just for transplant kids, although that’s our pet project, obviously. We also run programs for AIDS kids, cancer kids and diabetic kids. Then, we do other things—Scout groups, family reunions, even corporate retreats. And Trudy and I shut the place down in October and fly south for the winter.” He mock-shivered. “Can’t take these winters anymore.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It is.” Don shoved his fingertips into his pockets. “Well, I have to get over to the dining hall and make sure everything is running smoothly for breakfast. If you need help with all that trouble, you just give me a shout, okay?”
She nodded.
He turned on the heel of his battered running shoe and started back the way he’d come.
“Don?”
He paused and looked over his shoulder.
“Thanks.”
He smiled and offered her a thumbs-up. “Just doin’ my job, ma’am. And helping out a fellow passenger on the journey.”
She turned back toward the cabin. The nail polish on her toes needed replacing if she was going to wear open-toed sandals all day.
Doin’ his job?
Had James simply been doing his job, as well? All the talk of firefly wishes and kissing her, had that been just a psychologist working an emotionally fraught situation?
She slammed the screen door shut behind her.
ALREADY DRESSED FOR breakfast, James dialed his partner, Nicholas Cordova, at home. Without Cord’s understanding, James didn’t know how he’d have managed with Molly. Cord never minded picking up the slack when James had to be at the hospital. Having their offices only about a half-hour drive from Pittsburgh helped. James had been able, unlike many parents with critically ill kids, to juggle his time with Molly in the hospital and his career. “Hey, Cord. It’s me. What’s going on at the office?”
“Office?” A low groan rumbled through the phone. “Is this the service? Is this an emergency?”
“It’s me, and you know it.” James shifted the cell phone to his left hand and pushed the curtain away from the open window, watching Rachel retreat into her cabin following her conversation with Don. Why didn’t he have bionic ears? Or
at least a spy toy like the one Molly used for eavesdropping when she thought he wasn’t paying attention? He desperately wanted to know how Rachel was feeling this morning.
“No, this is not my partner. He knows not to call me at—” a rustling of bedcovers was followed by another low groan “—seven-ten in the morning unless it’s an emergency. Since this is not an actual emergency, I’m hanging up now and going back to sleep.”
James knew he’d do no such thing, so he launched right into his questions about their practice and some of the patients he was concerned about.
“Enough business,” Cord finally grumbled. “You’re on vacation, man. You’re supposed to be relaxing. Understand?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“How are your friends and their kids? Met any gorgeous women?”
“Michelle, Nolan and the kids are fine.” James one-handedly stowed yesterday’s dirty clothes in a laundry bag and dropped it on the floor of the closet.
“I noticed you’re avoiding the other question, which doesn’t surprise me. Besides the fact that you’re as dateless as a monk without a calendar, I’m sure that camp is no place to meet eligible women.”
“Actually…” The uneven floorboards creaked beneath James’s feet as he crossed to the bed. He smoothed the blue-and-white-checkered bedspread. Then he plumped the pillows, squeezing the cell phone between his ear and his shoulder.
“Actually, what, dammit?”
“There is this…woman….”
Cord hooted into the phone, making James pull it slightly away from his ear. “I don’t believe it. You go to a family camp and find a woman. Only you, partner. So,” Cord chuckled, “tell me about her. She must be something to wake you up after all this time. Beautiful?”
James closed his eyes and pictured Rachel. He didn’t dare admit it was her mouth and the way she’d looked in the moonlight last night that really got to him. “She’s got a rear that’s just…too fabulous for words.”
“Aah, sweet. Hair? Eyes?”
“Blond hair, blue eyes.”
“Another transplant parent?”
“Actually, she’s a donor mom.”
Conversation paused for a moment. “Hold it. Back the truck up. A donor mom? As in, she had a kid who was a donor?”
