One Wish

  “Very much so,” Carrie said. “Rawley is, too. I’ve gotten so used to him, I don’t know what I’d do without him. He loves to cook, clean up, shop and run errands.”

  “Very exciting,” Lou said.

  “That’s all the excitement I can stand.”

  The women were incredibly different. Just a look at them would make anyone wonder what they could possibly have in common. Carrie was plump and grandmotherly; she had never colored her short, steel-gray hair. She nurtured with food that was lovingly and thoughtfully prepared. Lou was small, trim, fit, kept her shoulder length auburn hair free of gray and looked younger than her sixty-two years. Gina was lovely, blond, midthirties with an eighteen-year-old daughter and three stepchildren and had been working at the diner for years and years, yet she looked like a girl.

  And then there was Ray Anne. She teased her blond hair, wore her clothes on the tight, short, sexy side, her heels as high as possible. Well, she was short. But that had nothing to do with it, really. She liked them. She’d always worn more makeup, long nails, fancier and, for lack of a better word, spicier clothing. Lou called her a Dolly Parton knockoff and Ray Anne was not offended.

  The women weren’t alike in many other ways, either. Lou was an educator who had raised her nephew Mac and then helped him raise his three children after his wife left him. Carrie had been a single mother and small business owner—the deli and catering. Gina had only married Mac a year ago or so and became the instant mother of a big crowd. Only Ray Anne had been this solitary, childless woman. But somehow they understood one another.

  “Remember my cousin Dickie?” she asked, sipping her wine. “Remember his daughter, Ginger, whose baby died a while back?”

  “Terrible,” Lou said, shaking her head. “Was that almost a year ago?”

  “Almost nine months. Last summer,” Ray Anne said.

  “Nothing could be harder than that,” Carrie said.

  “Poor thing,” Gina said.

  “She’s coming to stay with me for a little while,” Ray Anne said. “And I’m terrified.”

  “You?” Lou asked. “Terrified? I didn’t know anything scared you.”

  “This does. Her daddy called me—he said she was still in a world of hurt. I knew she wasn’t getting better. She’s been so depressed she can’t work and can hardly get out of bed, lost a ton of weight and is so pitiful she can’t talk to anyone for five minutes before she just has to go someplace to be alone. She’s still in terrible pain.”

  “How sad,” Carrie said. “Are you going to try to cheer her up?”

  “Oh, Lord, what do I know about that kind of grief?” Ray Anne said. “If her daddy hadn’t asked me, begged me really, I never would’ve signed up for this. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do!”

  “Has she had counseling?” Lou asked.

  “Yes, they’ve tried that. She even took antidepressants for a while. And I know there was some grief group at the church or something. That didn’t go well, either.”

  “We can look around here for a counselor or grief group. Wouldn’t hurt to try again,” Lou said.

  “I thought she was your niece,” Gina said.

  “She’s like a niece. Dickie’s like a brother. He and Sue had two little boys then along came Gingersnap and I was in heaven! A pretty little thing who could have fun spending the night at my house—we’d curl our hair, paint our nails, cream our faces, shave our legs...we shaved when she was a little older. We watched musicals and Disney shows together, dressed up, went shopping. I drove to Portland to help her pick out a prom dress, and I helped her stage her wedding—I was the official bridal assistant. Got way under Sue’s skin, I’ll tell you that, but my little Gingersnap was so happy!”

  “She’s married?”

  “No,” Ray Anne said. “No, her marriage only lasted a couple of years and was falling apart right as she realized she was pregnant and her husband, the bastard, didn’t even try to give it a chance to help raise his own baby. So Ginger did it on her own. At the end of her pregnancy she moved home with her mom and dad. They’d fixed up the upstairs for her so she and the baby had rooms of their own and she could save some money. She worked right up till she started labor. Four months later her little baby boy died in his sleep.”

  “What did your cousin ask you to do for her?” Gina asked.

  “Nothing,” Ray Anne said with a helpless shrug. “He said the change might help, but he didn’t ask anything specific of me. I think they’re worn-out, that’s what I think. It was Dickie and Sue’s loss, too. They have other grandchildren, but this little one lived with them—their baby’s baby. And I suppose the others can’t get any attention because everyone is busy grieving.” She rested her head in her hand. “I’ll be useless. I’ll probably just sit around and cry with the poor thing.”

  “For an hour or so, maybe,” Carrie said. “Then you’ll be done with that.”

  “Listen, I don’t have any natural parenting skills. None. God knew what he was doing when I didn’t get to have children.”

  “You’d have been an ideal parent,” Lou said. “God’s mistake.”

  “Me? Oh, believe me, I know nothing about being a parent and even less about what I can do to help my poor little Ginger while she goes through this terrible time. This is the worst idea Dickie has ever had, and he’s had some real stinkers.”

  “No, this is perfect,” Lou said.

  “She’s right,” Carrie agreed. “Won’t be so easy on you, but then when our youngsters hurt, it’s awful. Worse for us, I think. But of all the people I know...yes, you’re the one to do it.”

  “How can you say that?” Ray Anne demanded.

  “I know about some of your tough times,” Carrie said. “I’ve seen you through a few of them since you came to Thunder Point. Money trouble, broken hearts, struggles... There were a couple of times that were pretty awful. You had a mean son-of-a-bitch husband stalk you and you had to run and hide. You had a good friend die—what was her name?”

  “Marisa Dunaway,” Ray Anne said, and tears instantly sparkled in her eyes. “She was a good friend for twenty years and the Big C took her, but not until it kicked her ass, made her so sick and weak she was begging to die. Horrible. Horrible.”

  “And your parents died when you were little more than a girl,” Lou reminded her as if she needed reminding. She was twenty-two and her parents, both in their late fifties, died so close together, both of cancer. That had been forty years ago. Cancer treatment had come a long way since then, but still, it had taken her best friend ten years ago. “That was a dark time for you. We weren’t friends then,” she added. “I wasn’t there for you.”

  “I didn’t even know you then. You’ve been through a lot since I’ve known you,” Carrie said. “But you never indulged self-pity. You grieved hard, but never felt sorry for yourself.”

  “Ginger has a right to feel sorry for herself,” Ray Anne said.

  “This isn’t about rights,” Lou chimed in. “You had a right to self-pity, too. But you’re a survivor. And you’re a damn good role model. Your cousin is doing a smart thing, sending his daughter to you.”

  Ray Anne looked at Lou in surprise. “I didn’t think you liked me enough to say something like that,” she said.

  “It’s those shoes I never understood,” Lou said. “And you did steal all my boyfriends until I started keeping them secret from you. But I always admired your strength. You’re a woman on your own, alone, except for a couple of girlfriends and your recent boyfriend, but we don’t count on boyfriends. Women alone have to be smart, strong and durable. We don’t bruise easy. And we can’t waste time and energy feeling sorry for ourselves. We might want to collapse, but we don’t. Probably no one would pick us up!”

  “You, too,” Ray Anne said. “When Mac’s wife left him—”

  “Ach!” Lou ba
rked. “Alone with three little kids—the smallest nine months old! Practically no money, two low-paying jobs and his only relative was me. I was a full-time teacher. I don’t know how we got through it. And he was a mess! A pathetic, broken mess. Talk about self-pity! Sometimes when you have someone to lead, it’s easier to be strong.”

  “What am I going to do?” Ray Anne asked.

  “Be yourself,” Gina said, smiling. “Be your wonderful, loving, strong self. Let her talk, push her a little bit, like my mother pushed me when I was a sixteen-year-old mother with no one but her. Get her a little counseling help, bring her around your friends, prop her up with example. Let her see we don’t give up, we work. Sure we cry, sometimes scream, but we take it one day at a time and make every day a little better than the one we just left behind. You’re really one of the best people for the job, I know it.”

  “I had no idea you all thought that way about me.”

  “Pfft. The only thing I feel sorry for you about is that you just can’t dress yourself properly. You should be in double knits and wedgies like the rest of us over-sixty broads,” Lou said.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Carrie said. “The best part about you is you’re unique. As long as you don’t make me dress like a cocktail waitress I won’t make you dress like a gray-haired grandmother.”

  Ray Anne couldn’t answer. She felt the emotion in her throat. She’d give anything to be a grandmother. “You really think I’ll be able to help her?”

  “If you have trouble...if you have frustrations, we’ll get together and hash it out. We’ve all been through the bitter side of life. It comes with breathing. Giving up was never an option,” Carrie said.

  “I have a confession to make,” Ray Anne said. “It’s not like I didn’t feel sorry for myself sometimes. I’ve cried my heart out. Sometimes I cried till I couldn’t stand up straight. It’s just that I never cried like that in front of anyone.”

  “I know,” three voices replied together.

  * * *

  Carrie was having trouble falling asleep. She heard the front door open and close. Then she heard the soft drone of the TV and she rolled over and looked at the clock. Almost one in the morning. She got up and found her robe and opened her bedroom door.

  “Did I wake you up?” Rawley asked.

  She shook her head. “I was tossing around, not sleeping.” She gave her neck a stretch, tilting her head from side to side, trying to touch her chin to each shoulder. “This is so late for you.”

  “That Cooper. He thinks he’s a kid. They went to some party up in North Bend with some of Sarah’s old Coast Guard pals. Sarah had to drive him home.”

  “He’ll pay for that.”

  “I hope so. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “I think too much,” she said.

  “Come here, girl,” he said. When she sat beside him on the couch, he turned her so he could rub her shoulders. “Kids okay?” he asked as he massaged.

  “They’re all fine. It’s Ray Anne’s kin that’s having trouble.” She told him about Ginger and her need for a change of scenery. “Brings to mind how I always complained so much about how hard my life was when I never lost anything that dear.”

  “You lost a husband,” he reminded her.

  “Exactly as I said. Nothing very dear.”

  He made a sound that was almost a laugh. “Now you got some old vet taking up space in your house.”

  “You fit in so well, too. You hardly ever visit that house in Elmore anymore,” she said.

  “I almost never go to that house. I keep it as insurance for you.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “What does that mean?”

  “Means I don’t want you to worry none if you start to feel crowded and need your space—there’s a place I can go. But I ain’t got hardly a shirt left over there anymore. I never thought I’d end up living in some woman’s house. Who’d a thought there’d be a woman could put up with me?”

  “You’re the easiest man I’ve ever known.”

  “No one ever accused me of that before.”

  “Rawley, I’ve been happy.” She patted one of the hands that massaged her tight shoulders. “You’re a good man.”

  “I’ll do my best never to be a burden.”

  “I’m the burden!” she said. “Bad knees, sore back and neck, a family that just seems to grow, friends who count on me, a demanding business!”

  He leaned forward and kissed her cheek right below the ear. His lips were dry and his face whiskery, but she leaned back against him for a moment.

  “We get along fine,” he said. “And you just tell me when you need something. I’ll help if I can and get out of the way if I can’t. Since we don’t have all that much time, might as well enjoy it.”

  “I hope there’s plenty of time!” she said. “I might be getting creaky but I’m not ready to give up. Especially now that life’s gotten so sweet.”

  “Maybe I should’ve said, there ain’t likely to be enough time. I know what. Let’s find the lotion and I’ll give you a proper rubdown. Get some of those creaks out.”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  Carrie went to her bedroom; the lotion was on the bedside table. The television was turned off and Rawley padded into the bedroom in his stocking feet. Carrie lay down on her side and, after just a minute, Rawley lay down behind her, rubbing lotion between his leathery palms. She lifted her pajama top all the way up, almost over her shoulders, baring her back and most of her front.

  “My hands are gonna be a little cold,” he said.

  “I think maybe you should consider renting that house in Elmore. You could let it bring you some income.”

  “You in need of money, girl?”

  She sighed. “No, Rawley. For the first time in my life, I think I have everything I need.”

  “Then maybe we’ll sell that house. Put the money against retirement.” He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled a little, rolling her toward him. “How many houses we need?”

  “Only one, as far as I can see,” she said. “Think anyone really notices?”

  “In this town they notice everything,” he said. “Think I really care?”

  She laughed with him for a minute, then she rolled back so he could rub her back. He had strong, kind hands, the sort of hands she’d never expected to feel on her bare back. “That’s so nice,” she murmured.

  Eight

  Troy parked his Jeep behind the flower shop and called Grace. “I’m done at Cooper’s. Is it too late for me to come by?”

  “I’m with one of my other boyfriends,” she said.

  He grinned at that. “Can you ask him to step aside for a little while?”

  “Is this a booty call?”

  “No, it’s not, as a matter of fact. I wanted to tell you something, but if you turn it into a booty call, I probably won’t fight you off.”

  She laughed. “When will you be here?”

  “I’m parked in the alley. And it’s not really so late.”

  “Come up!”

  He was already standing at the top of the stairs when she opened the door.

  “You didn’t work very late tonight,” she said, pulling him inside. She put her arms around his neck, kissing him. “You know what? I really like this boyfriend stuff. It’s very convenient. I was just thinking about a kiss.”

  He pulled her closer. “You were, were you?” He nuzzled her neck and pressed against her. He fit so well against her soft curves, even though she was much shorter. He put his hands under her butt and lifted her, lining them up even better. Then he kissed her again.

  “I thought you wanted to tell me something,” she whispered against his lips.

  “Right,” he said distractedly, kissing her again. “No rush.” Of course he began to
grow against her enticing form.

  “If you keep this up, you’ll forget what you wanted to tell me,” she warned him.

  “No worries. It’ll come back to me. You okay?”

  “With you? Always okay.”

  He kept kissing, then touching, then gyrating. “Aw, Gracie,” he moaned. “Let’s talk a little later, all right?”

  “All right.”

  “Bed? Sofa? Table? Floor?” He swallowed. “Wall?”

  She giggled.

  “I could rip your clothes off right here,” he said.

  “Oh? And do you sew?” She pulled his hand from her breast and led him to the bed. “It will be more practical if we just undress. Ripping and tearing could be fun, but problematic.”

  “What if I’m feeling a little wild?” he asked, smiling into her pretty eyes.

  “You can get a little wild when we’re naked,” she said, dropping her jeans and shedding her denim shirt.

  “I can do that,” he said, getting rid of his clothes even faster. She was down to her tiny panties, so sheer and small they almost weren’t there. He followed her onto the bed and reached for those panties with one big hand. “Oops,” he said, ripping a short seam.

  “You’re very hard on my underwear.”

  “I’m surprised you have any left,” he said.

  “I love my panties.”

  “Not as much as I do! God, Gracie, I think you were expecting me,” he said, covering her mouth with his and separating her knees with one of his. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

  “Just as long as I can do it to you again,” she whispered. “And again...”

  * * *

  Even with all the romances Grace had read, just dreaming about true love, nothing had prepared her for what it would really feel like. As she lay naked in Troy’s arms, enjoying postcoital bliss, catching her breath, ready for sleep, she sighed his name.

  “Right here, baby,” he said, pulling her tighter against him.

  “I think you spoil me.”

  “That’s my intention. You feel good?”