A Child's Wish
Oh. Well, she hadn’t looked at the puppy book in a long time. It was probably covered up with her puke and stuff.
“He has yellow teeth.” The hand running through her hair stopped.
“Coffee stained is all. Don’s a truck driver and has to stay awake all night sometimes.”
“Daddy drinks coffee.”
Her mother didn’t say anything. She never seemed to listen when Kelsey mentioned Daddy, but Kelsey kept trying anyway. Her mom put both arms around her, pulling her close and Kelsey forgot all about her dad. If only she could come home from school every day and have her mom there waiting with a hug—the way Josie’s mom waited for them.
“James has a daughter your age,” her mom said, and Kelsey didn’t feel as good. If all Mom was going to talk about was those men, then Kelsey shouldn’t have come. Didn’t she realize that Kelsey’d be grounded for a year if she was caught here? Daddy thought she was at Josie’s house, which she would be in time for him to come pick her up.
“Last month, James stayed up all night sewing trim on a dance costume his daughter needed for a competition she was in.”
Kelsey nodded. A dad who sewed. That was cool. But one who looked all dirty and long-haired and tattooed like James?
She wanted to ask if his daughter had tattoos, too, but she was afraid that Mom would switch back to being cranky again. Even as old as Kelsey was now, that part of her mom still scared her.
CHAPTER TWO
“HI, MS. FOSTER, come on in. Daddy said you were coming. Can we do some more of that yarn stuff like we did last time?”
Meredith grinned at the petite little girl with long, straight dark hair. Her face was often solemn, but right now she was smiling profusely. “Hi, Kelse,” Meredith said, stepping through Mark Shepherd’s front door, a denim bag over her shoulder. “Yes, I brought plastic canvas and yarn. I thought we’d make a butterfly bank for your room—how’s that sound?”
“Cool! I got that new comforter, too,” the child said, closing and locking the door before skipping ahead in front of Meredith. “You know the purple and pink one with butterflies?”
“I remember,” Meredith said, completely comfortable with Kelsey. If only her father were already gone and Meredith wouldn’t have to suffer through even a few minutes in his company.
“You want to see it?”
Did she want to run the risk of running into Mark in the bedroom hallway?
“I do, but can I put this down first?” She slid her bag down her arm.
“Oh.” Kelsey’s expression was momentarily blank as she glanced at the bag. “Sure. I forgot. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize, honey.” Even before she’d had Kelsey in class the year before, Meredith had adored this child. She was sensitive and aware and far more responsible than most kids her age. Meredith missed seeing her every day.
Heading for the kitchen where they’d sit at the table and work on their project with the little TV mounted beneath a cupboard playing one of the Doris Day movies she’d brought, Meredith set her bag down and waited. Once Mark was on his way, the tension would be gone.
“I love your jeans,” Kelsey said, plopping onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs. “I wanted some with beads like that, only instead of flowers they had butterflies, but Daddy said all that stuff would come off in the wash anyway.”
Oh, great. She was already in the doghouse with this man and now she either had to lie and say that the jeans fell apart when she washed them, or she would have to tell his daughter he was wrong about that. She bent to pet the calico cat that was weaving itself in and out between her legs.
“Are you and Daddy fighting again?” Kelsey’s pert nose wrinkled as she glanced over at Meredith.
“Why would you ask that?”
“You are, aren’t you?” Kelsey frowned. “He said Susan asked you to come over tonight and usually he asks, and since he sees you at school and all, it’s not like he couldn’t get ahold of you. I figured that meant you were fighting again.”
As the cat wandered off to investigate something more interesting, Meredith dropped down opposite Kelsey, hating the tightness she was feeling just beneath her rib cage. It meant she wasn’t relaxed—and it was uncomfortable. “Your father and I don’t fight.”
“Well, you don’t maybe. I don’t think you’d ever have a fight with anyone. But he sure gets mad at you.”
So much for keeping things between teacher and principal.
“Do the other kids at school know that, or are you extra smart?”
“I think it’s just me, ’cause I live with him,” Kelsey said, her adult-sounding assurances so touching.
“Well…” Meredith took a deep breath and sent up a quick request for assistance, please. “Sometimes I get a little carried away when I try to help, and your dad doesn’t want me to lose my job.”
“How could you? He’s your boss.”
“Yes, but the school board is his boss and if they told him to fire me, he’d have to do it.”
“Are they going to tell him that?”
“No, sweetie, they aren’t,” Meredith said, with a cheerful smile, crossing her fingers. “Your dad just worries a lot sometimes.”
“I do not worry.”
Swinging around, Meredith stood up and saw Mark in the doorway behind her. His snug-fitting jeans and long-sleeved white shirt distracted her for a moment—but only for a moment.
“You worry all the time,” she told him. “About everything.”
“I get concerned, with legitimate cause. I do not worry.” He said the words firmly, with a completely straight face.
Meredith burst out laughing. Kelsey’s worried stare settled on her father, until Mark slowly smiled.
Thank goodness. He was finished being angry with her. This time.
“I’m out of here, pumpkin,” he said, resting his hand on his daughter’s head.
She nodded.
“Bedtime is ten tonight, since Meredith is here and it’s not a school night.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t answer the…”
“Door.” Kelsey turned around to grin at her father. “We know the rules, Daddy,” she said with only a hint of condescension.
“Then give me a hug so I can get lost, as you two are obviously eager to have me do.”
Meredith’s throat grew tight as she watched Kelsey jump up and throw her arms around her father’s trim waist. Mark held on for a long moment and then let her go, glancing over at Meredith.
“I don’t know how late I’ll be.”
She didn’t want to think about why—it was kind of embarrassing—but at the same time she was glad to know that Susan was intimately involved. Her best friend was slowly but surely coming back to life.
“Tell Suze I said hi and I love her.”
With a nod, Mark was gone.
An hour later, the muscles beneath Meredith’s rib cage still had not relaxed.
“You feeling okay?” she asked Kelsey. Tongue peeping out one side of her mouth, the girl was intent on following the pattern of squares and colors that Meredith had placed on the table in front of her.
“Fine,” Kelsey said, her needle going through the plastic canvas with quiet deliberation.
Meredith had assumed that as soon as Mark left she’d relax. She’d been fine before she arrived. So what was making her tense? Her own internal radar? Someone else’s?
The fact that Mark and Susan were doing what adults do when they’re alone together—while she spent her Friday evening stitching butterflies with a fourth grader?
“You and Josie getting along okay?” The girls might be suffering from too much togetherness, now that Mark had agreed to let Kelsey go to Josie’s every day after school in exchange for summer care for Kelsey’s friend.
“Yep. We’re best friends now.”
Meredith’s yarn knotted. She hated it when that happened. “You used too long a piece,” Kelsey said, glancing over and then looking back at her own work.
“I know. I make a better teacher than a doer.” She dropped the needle and canvas on the table. “You want a snack?”
“Ice cream?”
“Of course. What weird flavors did your dad buy this week?”
“Butterfinger and rocky road.”
Grabbing three bowls and two spoons, Meredith pulled open the drawer where Mark kept his ice cream scoop. “So what’ll it be for you, young lady?” she asked, scooping a bit of vanilla into the first bowl for Gilda, the cat, who was purring at Meredith’s ankle.
“What are you having?” Kelsey asked without looking up.
“I guess I’ll try Butterfinger. I’ve never had it before.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have, too.”
“DO YOU THINK judging a book by its cover is the same as knowing about people?”
It was five minutes to ten and Meredith was tucking Kelsey into her white-painted canopy bed, pulling up the new comforter. Though it’d been in the fifties all week, the temperature was supposed to drop down to near freezing that night.
“What do you mean?” Meredith asked, sitting on the side of the bed, careful not to disturb Gilda, who’d already curled up and was sleeping soundly. She tried to ignore the tightness in her stomach—too much ice cream, she told herself.
“If a book looks bad that doesn’t mean the story inside is bad. So if people look bad, should we still think of them as good?”
Meredith forced herself to focus carefully on the nine-year-old’s questions and ignore the increasing pain in her gut.
“That’s not a yes or no question, sweetie,” she said. “No, you shouldn’t judge people just by how they look, but people put out messages about themselves—messages you need to learn to read as you go out into the world and deal with strangers.” The words rolled off her tongue without conscious thought.
Kelsey nodded, but her eyes were full of confusion.
“Say, for instance, you see someone who has wild clothes on. That wouldn’t mean that the person doesn’t have a good heart. It might just mean that he or she has artistic taste.”
“What if they have tattoos?”
A few years ago the question might instantly have been a cause for concern. “Lots of people have tattoos these days,” Meredith replied. “It’s kind of the in thing for college students, and lots of moms are getting little ones on their ankles and other places. And you’ve seen girls at the mall with them on their lower backs, haven’t you?”
The girl nodded, her hair falling around her shoulders.
“It’s more accepted now, so people are changing their opinions about tattoos and a lot of quite regular people are getting them.”
“They might be good people?”
“Right.”
“And say, maybe, someone was greasy and dirty looking… It could be that he was just working in the garage, huh?”
“Could be. But unless you know that he was in a garage, I’d be careful there. Someone who doesn’t have good hygiene might be wonderful inside, but it might also be a sign that he or she is down on his luck—which could make him desperate. Or it might mean he has no respect for the human body, in which case you don’t want to go anywhere near him.”
Kelsey’s features relaxed, but Meredith’s stomach didn’t.
“Okay?” Meredith asked.
Kelsey nodded, sliding down until the covers were up to her chin.
“You have some stranger bothering you?” Meredith had to ask.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I just heard someone talking about judging people and it didn’t really make sense to me, is all.”
Thank God for that. Kelsey Shepherd had already been through enough in her young life. And so had her dad.
AT TEN AFTER TWELVE Meredith heard Mark’s automatic garage door start to open. She yanked on her ankle-length hikers, tied the laces and grabbed her bag, which was packed and waiting. And then she reached for the remote control and turned off the TV.
“Hi,” Mark said, coming in and dropping his keys on the brass plate on the counter.
“Hi.” Meredith looked at the keys rather than at Mark. If his hair was mussed or he had that satisfied look in his eyes, she’d die of embarrassment.
“I know it’s late, but you got a minute?”
Her gaze darted to his. “Sure.” Her stomach was still uncomfortable, but she’d lain down after Kelsey went to bed and it was better than it had been before.
“In the living room?”
Odd, but…okay.
The first time she’d ever been in Mark’s living room, three years ago for a retirement party for one of the teachers, she’d been impressed with the simple, elegant gold, brown, maroon and green decor. The room had the feeling of a cozy fall day, right down to the coasters on the plain oak coffee table. Rather than choosing the love seat or the sofa, Meredith chose the autumn-colored wing-back armchair. It only sat one. No awkwardness there.
“What’s up?”
“I need your help with Kelsey.”
Meredith’s stomach tensed again. “What’s wrong?” The little girl had been happy enough that night.
“Nothing, when she’s with you.” Mark’s words weren’t quite resentful, but his frustration was evident.
“She’s not okay with you?”
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t seem to like Susan and I don’t get it. Susan’s kind and gentle and she wants so badly to be Kelsey’s friend.”
Settling back into the chair, allowing her bag to slide down her arm and onto the floor, Meredith nodded. “I know she does.”
“I’m sure it’s just because Kelsey resents having to share me, but I have no idea what to do about it. I make certain that she and I still have at least three nights a week alone and on at least another two, she’s included in whatever plans Susan and I make.”
If only more parents tried that hard. “So what do you want from me?”
She could take Kelsey to her house to spend the night, or even a weekend now and then, but that wasn’t going to solve the problem.
“To see what you think. I couldn’t talk to you about this at school, of course, and most of the time you’re around, it’s with either Susan or Kelsey there.”
Thank goodness for that. She wasn’t sure how long she and Mark could last without fighting, if they spent much time together by themselves. She had a tendency to piss him off.
“I guess I was hoping, since Kelsey seems to adore you, that you’d be able to talk to her or something. Or maybe have some insights as to what I might do.”
Meredith wasn’t sure what to say. Susan was her closest friend—a lot of times in her life she’d been Meredith’s only friend. She would be loyal to Susan until death. So would it be disloyal to talk about her behind her back if she was attempting to help Susan get what she’d said she wanted?
Waiting until she felt calm inside, until she felt the doubts fall away, to be replaced by the certainty that she’d learned long ago to trust, Meredith let the quiet of the room settle around her.
And then with more confidence, she said, “Susan never learned how to interact with kids.”
Yes, it was okay to say that. “She wants to be Kelsey’s friend but she has no inner direction, nothing instinctual, not even a memory to draw on to tell her how to be a friend to someone that age. Which makes her feel awkward and insecure, and so she forces things. Kids can tell when people aren’t being natural with them and they respond with a defensiveness that’s mostly unconscious.”
That was how it felt. Pretty much.
Mark thought for a minute, hands rubbing slowly against each other. They were nice hands. Big. Dependable-looking. Meredith had seen them gently wipe away tears, tenderly hold shoulders, sign papers and applaud success.
“I understand,” he said at last. “But I still have no idea what to do about it.”
“I’m not sure, either,” she said. “Except to keep doing what you’re doing. The more they’re around each other, the more Kelsey’s going to be able to see that Susan’s a good person and perhaps start to trust her a bit. And the more Susan will learn what a nine-year-old kid’s about and start to relax, which will help Kelsey trust her.”
And…
No. Meredith refused to acknowledge her inner “awareness.” So what if she’d been shown a picture, a flash only, of her and Kelsey together. Then together again somewhere else. That didn’t mean it was real. Or even if it was, that she had to take heed of it.
And…
“And I think that it might help if, instead of always calling teenagers to sit with her—girls who are trustworthy and will keep her safe, mind you, but kids who don’t really see Kelsey as anything more than a chance to earn a few extra bucks—you call me. Or let me take her to my place for a night. That way she won’t feel like a castoff.”
Her life’s purpose was to help kids. She knew that. Any kids. Anywhere. Any way she could. It wasn’t so much a choice as a conviction that she wouldn’t be happy any other way. Helping kids completed her.
“I can’t ask you to do that. You have a life.”
“You aren’t asking. I’m offering. And it’s up to me how I spend my life.”
“Why would you give up your weekend for me? I’m not even that nice to you.”
“You’re not un-nice to me.” She should have left the television on. Of course, that would be out in the kitchen, which wouldn’t offer much distraction in here. “Besides, I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Kelsey and Susan.”
He nodded. And relaxed. And when she realized she knew that, her own tension grew. She didn’t want to know any more about him than anyone else knew. Especially when all she experienced were random feelings without explanation and minus a name tag so she couldn’t even be sure of the source. But someone in this room had just relaxed, and it wasn’t her.
“I’ll think about it,” he said. “Thank you.”
Time to go. Meredith grabbed her bag as she stood, moving as quickly as she could for the door without looking as if she was running. He was right beside her, reaching for the doorknob—and not opening it.
Meredith didn’t like the way his tired, yet…something…look made her feel. All edgy and, oh, maybe…she didn’t know what. Just more. Was it him? Her? Both?
“In all the months I’ve been seeing Susan, I’ve never once heard of you out on a date,” he said.
“So?”
“I’m surprised. You’re a beautiful woman….”
And thirty-one. Her clock was ticking—slowly, granted, but still ticking.
Yet, if he thought she was beautiful…
“Thanks.”
She moved toward the door. It didn’t open. His hand was solidly on the handle. Hell, it was solid, period. Reassuring. Capable. She’d never thought much about men’s hands before.
“Why don’t you?”
Meredith’s first priority was to get out of there. She needed space. Peace.
“I find that my life’s happier that way.”
“Are you gay?”
In today’s world it was a reasonable question. “Does it matter?”
“No!” He stepped back. “Of course not.” And then… “Are you?”
She debated her answer. If she’d been gay, this intense awareness of him would never be an issue; never be discovered or even suspected.
“No, unfortunately, I’m not,” she said.
“Unfortunately?”
Yeah, she’d stepped right into that one.
Meredith shrugged, catching her hair in the strap of her bag. As she reached up to pull it out and slid her hand into the beaded back pocket of her jeans, she decided to tell him. Maybe then she could escape and go home. Where she was safe.
“It would’ve saved me a lot of heartache.”
“How so?”
“I was engaged.” It wasn’t something she talked about. And out of respect for her, Susan wouldn’t have told Mark, either. “Frank was kind and smart, witty, good-looking. Motivated. He got along well with his family. And with my mother. I trusted him.”
She stopped, her chest tightening as she fought the memories.
“He had an affair,” Mark said softly, his eyes darkening. “What an idiot.” He leaned back against the door.
“No, he didn’t,” Meredith said. “I wish he had. It would’ve been a lot easier to deal with, because that would have been his problem, his weakness and not mine.”
“So what happened?” Mark folded his arms across chest.
Solid chest. Strong. Reliable. Firm.
“He didn’t show up at the wedding.” A woman’s worst nightmare. Or at least hers. And it had come true.
Sometimes she still couldn’t believe it had really happened. Surely that whole part of her life had merely been one of those nightmares that seemed so real you had a hard time distinguishing fact from fiction.
“The church was full. My mother had spent far too many thousands of dollars on flowers and food and photography and a band and invitations. I was there in my dress, my friends all around me in theirs…”
“Damn!”
Mmm-hmm.
“I waited not one hour but two,” she said with a twisted grin. As soon as she could actually laugh when she told this story, it would no longer have the power to hurt her. Maybe three lifetimes from now.
Which was why she never told anyone. Susan knew, but then she’d been the woman in the soft purple maid-of-honor gown, holding Meredith up as she walked sobbing from the church.
People who’d known her then knew. They’d all been there. Witnesses.
“Did you ever find out why?” Mark didn’t touch her, but she thought he wanted to. Or maybe it was just that she wanted him to. Wanted a man to find her worth the effort.
She nodded, and stood with her chin held high. “There was a letter for me taped to the front door of our apartment. He’d moved all his stuff out while I was at the church waiting—”
“Cold bastard!”
Meredith smiled a little at the interruption, nodding. She never should have started this, and now she was having to force herself to breathe.
“What did it say?”
“That as much as he loved me, he couldn’t handle a lifetime of living with me. I’m too much.”
“What does that mean?”
“You need to ask?” she said, staring up at him. “You’re right there with him, Mark. I’m too intense. I feel too much. And when I experience certain sensations, I act. Even if the situation is one I should probably walk away from. But you know what?” She was feeling a little better. “I’m never going to walk away, not from any of it. I can’t. I am what I am. I’m intense, just as my fiancé said. I feel everything around me, and I’m glad about that. I can’t imagine life without the depth, without the magic that accompanies the pain.” She was on a roll. Perhaps she should do this more often. She could stand on street corners and tell everyone her story.
“I like me.” She finally said it. And stood there shocked. She’d never said that before; never consciously thought about it. She’d never known it.
But it was true.
Life was good.
CHAPTER THREE
“HEY, DADDY.”
Mark glanced up from the bathroom sink on Monday morning to meet his daughter’s sweet brown eyes in the mirror. She was wearing hip-hugger jeans that were getting a little too short, along with hiking shoes and a beige long-sleeved sweater. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail that was decidedly crooked. His heart caught—how he loved this kid. “Hey, Kelse.”
She boosted herself onto the second sink, watching as her father scraped another row of shaving cream from his cheek.
“I fed Gilda.”
“Good girl. Thanks,” he said, while he rinsed the razor. “What do you want for breakfast? Cream of wheat or pancakes?”
She scrunched her chin for a moment. “There’s more dishes from pancakes, so cream of wheat.”
Mark stopped, razor halfway to his face, and grinned at her. “What do the dishes matter?” he asked. “You don’t do them alone.”
“I know.” Her voice was light. Her gaze followed his hand from sink to face and back again—just as it had done most of the mornings of her life. This ritual was one of the best parts of his day.
Before Kelsey, Mark used to shave in the nude. Since his daughter’s birth, however, he’d always had slacks waiting by the shower so he’d be ready to run if she called.
“I forgot to tell you, Lucy’s mom called and invited you over to play with Lucy after school Friday. I can pick you up on my way home, or you can spend the night and I can get you Saturday morning.”