The Wish List (15 page)

Giving in, Faith let out a sigh. “Just one,” she agreed, and poised her pencil over the paper.

“Put down, ‘Doesn’t have to be good at Cootie,’” he said solemnly. “Because I can teach him,” he explained. “I am very good at Cootie.”

He
was
, this child of hers, this bright-eyed boy. And he was very good at something else—heading for heartbreak.

“Cory,” she said softly, not wanting to kill his newborn hope, but knowing she had to. “Dr. Murphy cannot be your daddy. He just can’t.”

She half expected Cory to argue, but to her surprise he didn’t. “I know, Mom,” he said. “When Hannah got the paint, she said it was a real shame Nathan wouldn’t marry up again, cause he’d make a good husband. He can’t be a daddy for me if we don’t get married, can he?”

“Hannah said that, did she?”

“Uh-huh. To Nathan. He frowned at her real big, too. But I heard. I didn’t ask no questions, so Nathan wouldn’t frown at me.”

“I see,” she said, unwilling to explain more to him. “So why are you changing your list?” she asked, holding it out to him.

Cory shrugged and took the paper from her hand. “Maybe, Mom—maybe there’s somebody else like that who knows about monster paint. Like on TV when the guy has a twin he never knew about. Maybe there’s somebody else just like Nathan.”

Her son really
had
been watching too much television. But at the moment that seemed the least important part of this conversation. Faith caught herself latching on to her son’s wishes. Maybe there
was
someone out there just like Nathan.

But no. There was no one like Nathan. And soon there would be no Nathan at all...in Cory’s life or in hers. That was the whole point of therapy—to treat the patient and let them go. And that was what she needed to remember from here on out.

Chapter Seven

Two days later, as Nathan was about to leave Faith’s house, she informed him that Cory was now germ free and ready to get back to his normal routines.

“Thank you so much, Nathan.” She held out her hand, “I’ll call Mandy to let her know I’ll be needing her again.”

Nathan looked at her slender hand, outstretched in an impersonal handshake. That hand had made him ache with physical pain at one time, when they’d first started working. Faith’s palm had rested against his own, offering encouragement and instruction. But she’d also touched him, several times, with gentleness. And he’d known the pleasure of those hands against his chest while he plundered her lips.

Now she was all business, prim and formal. Just the way he’d always wished she would be. He didn’t want to think about how she twisted him up inside whenever they touched. He should just accept her polite gesture and clear out. But...

Nathan ignored her hand. A sheepish smile lifted his lips. “Are you telling me I’m fired?”

Slowly Faith lowered her hand. “Of course not.” She frowned, clearly confused. “But we both know that you were just doing me a favor for a few days.”

Nathan took Faith’s hand. He patted it gently, trying to prepare her. “We both knew this was just for a few days, but apparently Cory was a tad unclear on that.” He cleared his throat, feeling the slight burn of embarrassment. “It seems that somehow I’ve committed myself to a few more days with him.”

“A few more days?” She pulled her hand back and folded her arms. Her eyes narrowed in that suspicious way that Nathan knew so well. “How many more days?”

“A few,” he repeated. “I’m not sure. It depends on the wind. I promised we’d go kite flying and some other things. Not many.” He shrugged.

“Nathan…” Faith drawled. “Why on earth did you promise him that? I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

“Yes, well, I survived,” he said. “And this situation isn’t Cory’s fault. He was sick and grumpy and I wouldn’t let him watch any more television. When he got tired of playing Cootie, I bet him three cookies that he couldn’t win another game. Things—well, things got a little out of hand after that.”

Faith was rocking on her heels now, enjoying his discomfort as she tried to hide her smile behind her hand. “You’re telling me that you gambled with my son in a game you know you really stink at? Nathan, shame on you.”

Nathan frowned and ran a hand along the line of his jaw. “I don’t know how that kid does it. It’s a game of chance, for Pete’s sake. How can I keep losing every time?”

“I don’t know,” Faith soothed. “Honest I don’t, but don’t worry. You’re not going to abide by a promise that was made on a bet. And you’re not playing any more Cootie with my son. I love him and it’s a cute game, but heavens, I never thought those little bugs could be so dangerous. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him all bets are off.”

“Not on your life, lady,” Nathan said, stopping her from going to Cory by placing one hand on her shoulder. Gently, he grasped her forearms, turning her until she faced him completely before he let her go. “I may not have always been the kind of man I should have been, but I stand by my word. Cory won fair and square. I’ll stick to my end of the bargain. Besides, he’s so bright, and I hate to see him...well, nothing against his baby-sitter, Faith, but that woman seems to know far too much about a remote control and not nearly enough about how kids should be spending their spare time. It won’t hurt me to take him on a few outings.”

Faith groaned. “You’re right. I
knew
he was watching too much television, but gifted-sitters are just so hard to find. Still, it’s not right letting you help me when I’m the one who should be doing those things with him.”

Nathan grasped her chin with one hand to hold her still, then gently stroked her face with his thumb, staring into her eyes so that she’d know that his next words were true. “Don’t start feeling guilty. You’ll do those things,” he assured her. “When you get some time, get rid of me and have a less hectic schedule, you will. You’re a good mother, Faith. You are.”

“And you’re a good man,” she said. “A very good man.” But Nathan didn’t reply. If he was a good man, a truly good man, he wouldn’t be standing here now. He’d be six feet under, the one who had taken the brunt of that crash. And his wife and child would still be alive. A few childish games of Cootie with a wistful little boy or a day at the park flying a kite couldn’t wipe out the past. Nothing could.

~ ~ ~

The house was empty when Faith came home a few weeks later. The ticking of the clock emphasized the silence. She’d grown too used to Cory’s laughter mingled with Nathan’s deep voice, Faith realized. She’d taken advantage. Nathan’s few days had turned into weeks. “The wind’s not right for kites,” Cory had said when she’d brought up the subject, and Nathan hadn’t disagreed. But then he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to disappoint her child—or any child, she remembered.

She should have called Mandy or looked for another sitter. Instead, she’d done nothing, treasuring the smiles Nathan brought to Cory’s face. That was wrong.
She’d
been wrong, but she hadn’t stopped to think. Now in the silence that marked Nathan and Cory’s unexpected absence, she couldn’t hide from the truth.

Passing the refrigerator, she saw a note hanging there. It was scribbled in big, red crayon letters—wobbly letters—some of which were backward. Obviously this had been a two-man job with Nathan spelling and Cory writing.

“Gone to the park,” the note read. “Be back soon.”

Wonderful. She’d have a few minutes of solitude, a commodity that was in short supply lately. She could put her feet up, have a cup of coffee, read a book...the possibilities loomed before her, beckoning. So why was she marching into the bedroom, pulling jeans and an old baggy red sweatshirt out of her drawer?

Because she was crazy, foolish. Because it was such a nice day. Because she loved seeing Nathan and Cory together.

It was as simple as that. The big man, the small child, laughing and telling ridiculous, nonsensical jokes, then rolling on the floor as if they were really funny. Challenging each other to games, arguing over what was the worst vegetable in the world. Once she’d even found them sound asleep on the couch together, Nathan’s shoulder cradling Cory’s head. How could she resist? How could she stand to miss a minute, when she knew that the minutes were almost gone?

She couldn’t, but neither could she let things go on as they were. It wasn’t fair to Nathan. Besides, his therapy
was
almost finished.

Locking the door behind her, Faith made her way to the park at the end of the block. The orange plastic slides and bright blue tunnels were filled with kids, but Cory wasn’t among them. She didn’t see Nathan’s long legs anywhere, either. Shading her eyes she looked around. They weren’t at the basketball courts, or in the sandbox, or sitting on a park bench. Then, finally, she heard a distant squeal, and looked up to see her son jumping up and down as Nathan set a bright green kite soaring in the open space at the edge of the play area.

Faith moved forward, not watching where she was going, not taking her eyes off the two of them. Nathan played out the string, easily manipulating it between his fingers, grasping at it and jerking the kite higher when the breeze threatened to pan out.

Cory looked at the kite, then glanced back to Nathan, his adoration of the man clearly written across his face. It was a blow to her heart, that look. Nathan had won her child’s loyalty, won him completely...just as he’d won her?

No, no, no. She couldn’t think that way. Instead, she focused on Nathan’s hands. It was her job, she reminded herself, She was supposed to be monitoring Nathan’s progress, not thinking about how big a hole her life and Cory’s would soon have. She definitely wasn’t supposed to be thinking about how much she’d miss Nathan arguing with her, teasing her, kissing her. But she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him.

Unaware of her presence, caught up in what he was doing, Nathan gracefully, easily played with the string, twisting and turning his long, elegant fingers as he threaded the line out. He gripped the string, his fingers moving, letting out the slack, answering the dance of the wind as the kite rose higher in the air. Nathan fed the line. Automatically. Easily.

She saw it then, what she’d suspected, though she’d told herself she needed more time to be sure. A therapist couldn’t be too careful with a patient or push them out of the nest too soon. But now the truth was there, bold, undeniable, written in Nathan’s easy grip and his careful control of the slender string. She couldn’t deny what her eyes told her so plainly. She couldn’t pretend he needed anything more from her.

Nathan was on his way. He was going back to the hospital. She’d been right before. The minutes were almost gone. She had done her job, and now she had to face the fact that her time with Nathan was over.

Nearing the two of them, she saw Nathan gently transfer the now high-flying kite to her son’s small hands, and heard Cory call, “This is so fun, Nathan. I want to play this forever and ever.”

Nathan turned to look at Faith as she approached. “I know what you mean, son. I know just what you mean,” he said.

But Faith knew that his words didn’t really mean anything. Because Nathan was leaving. She was going to have to sever the connection—tonight.

~ ~ ~

She’d been flitting around the kitchen like a butterfly gone berserk ever since Nathan had finished his manipulative exercises. Faith knew she wasn’t acting like herself. It wasn’t like her to be this nervous...to avoid looking into his eyes. But that’s what she was doing tonight, because she didn’t want Nathan to see just how messed up she was. She and Nathan were on the homestretch of his treatment. It was more important than ever that she be strong.

Faith reminded herself of that again when Nathan rose to leave. He smiled at her, goodnight on his lips, when she cleared her throat.

“Don’t leave. Not just yet,” she said quietly. “Wait until I put Cory to bed. I have a few things I need to discuss with you.” Quietly, she slipped from the room, not allowing him time to reply or giving herself time to decipher the surprised look on his face.

She returned in mere minutes, having promised a too-tired Cory a story the next day. By now Nathan’s stunned look had turned to something else. He was staring at his hands when she came in, bending his fingers back and forth as if to test his strength.

He knew
, she thought. He knew what she was going to say.

“So...Faith, do I owe you an apology for taking Cory out of the house without asking your permission today?” he asked, but she could tell by the skeptical light in his eyes that he didn’t believe that was what she wanted.

“Not at all.” She shook her head. “You left a note. Cory enjoyed himself. Why would I object?”

“No reason. I was just making sure I knew what this was about, trying to decide if what I suspected was true.”

Faith pasted a smile on her face, a phony smile, a professional smile, the kind she hated when she saw it on anyone else. But it was necessary now. She was going to give him good news and confirm his suspicions—the long wait was over. He was almost home free. It was her job to tell him the truth and to be happy that he had reached his goal.

She
was
happy. She was near tears watching him as he flexed his fingers, knowing that he had his life back—at least a part of it. But for some reason she didn’t want to examine, she couldn’t come up with a completely ecstatic smile.