Wish 01 - A Secret Wish (5 page)

As her assailant tried to yank the bag from her shoulder, something inside Angela snapped. She’d been feeling like a victim for too long. She couldn’t let one more thing be taken from her, so she fought back. The figure in the dark hooded sweatshirt and baggy jeans was not that big, she realized, but they were determined. So was she.

She grabbed her bag and shoved her attacker backward. The hood slipped off her assailant’s head, and she stared in shock as a long, tangled ponytail fell out.

Her mugger wasn’t a man, but a girl – a young teenage girl with big brown eyes and dirty blond hair.

As the girl turned to bolt, Angela grabbed her arm. “Hold on.”

“Let me go. I’m sorry,” the girl blurted out, her eyes round and scared. “I’m just hungry.”

“So you decided to rob me? How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

There was no way this child was eighteen. “Try again,” she ordered.

“Why do you care?”

“Because you just attacked me.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you. Please don’t call the police. I’m really sorry, and I swear I won’t do it again,” she said, struggling to break free.

“I’m not going to let you just walk away. Where do you live?”

“Nowhere near here.”

Angela didn’t believe her for a second. “I need a better answer, or I will call the police.” She paused. “You’re just a child. What were you thinking?”

“It wasn’t for me,” the girl said. “My sister is sick and I need to buy her some cough medicine.”

“Where is your sister?” Angela asked, glancing around.

“She’s at home. I gotta go. I can’t leave her alone for long.”

As the girl tried to break free, Angela found herself hanging on. There was fear in the girl’s eyes and she obviously needed some help. But why did she care about a kid who’d just tried to steal her purse?

“Let me go,” the girl pleaded. “My little sister gets scared when she’s alone.”

“Why is she alone? Where are your parents?” she asked, unable to let the matter drop.

“They’re – out.”

“What’s your name?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. You need help.”

“No one wants to help us. They just want to split us up. My sister needs me. I have to protect her.”

She was getting in over her head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Where’s your sister?”

The girl hesitated. “I can’t tell you. You’ll call the cops.”

“I won’t call the police – not yet, anyway,” she amended. “But if your sister is sick and she needs medicine, maybe I can help.”

“If you want to help, give me some money.”

“First I need to meet your sister.” She paused. “I have sisters, too, one younger, one older. I’d do anything for them.”

“You seem nice,” the girl muttered, as if she was afraid to believe it.

“Then let me help you,” she said impulsively, trying not to think too hard about her offer. She could be getting herself into a dangerous situation. The girl could be working for someone. There might not even be a sister.

“I don’t know why you’d want to,” the girl said, but despite the fear in her eyes, there was also an edge of hope to her words.

“What’s your name?” she asked again.

“Laurel.”

The name seemed too pretty and soft for her boyishly dressed, desperate attacker, but she could certainly understand why Laurel might feel safer out on the streets if she looked more like a boy.

“Okay, Laurel. Take me to your sister.”

“I hope I’m not making a mistake,” Laurel said worriedly.

Angela met her gaze. “Me, too.”

* * *

Carole grew tense as the limo took her toward the streets of her youth. Potrero Hill was in the southern section of the city. On one side of the hill, the houses and apartment buildings were well kept, rented or owned by families and professionals, but on the south side of the hill were two large low-income housing projects.

Second thoughts ran through her mind about this impulsive trip, her instinct for self-preservation telling her to turn back while she still had the chance. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to tell the driver to stop. Something was missing from her life, and maybe if she retraced her steps, if she went back to where it had all begun, it would become clear exactly what that something was.

Or maybe she’d just realize that nothing was missing – that she had it all, every last item on the wish list she’d made as a child. Then she could go home and go on with her life.

Thankfully, her mother had moved out of the projects and into a small apartment building about four blocks away. While the three-story building showed signs of wear and tear, the yard was well kept, and there were even a few flowers in the first-story window boxes that hid the metal bars protecting the windows.

The driver opened her door and she stepped out on the sidewalk, shivering in the cold. She probably should have stopped to get her coat before leaving the hotel.

“Is this the right place?” the driver asked doubtfully.

“It is.” She’d never visited, but this was the address she’d sent the compulsory Christmas card to every year for the last ten years. “Wait here. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

The front door to the building was ajar. If there was a security system, it was broken. She glanced down the list of residents and saw her mother’s name, Nora Dennis, next to 2B. She walked into the lobby and skipped the elevator in favor of the stairs. She might not have lived in this type of neighborhood for a long time, but she knew better than to take an elevator in an old building.

Once upstairs, she took a deep breath and knocked on her mother’s door. For a moment, she thought no one was home, and an odd mix of disappointment and relief swept through her. Then the door opened.

Her mother stared at her in shock. “Oh, my Lord,” she muttered, putting a hand to her heart.

Carole squared her shoulders, trying not to feel shocked as well. But it was difficult. She hadn’t seen her mom in more than a decade, and time had taken its toll. The woman standing before her was a shell of her former vibrant self. Her hair was still red, but it was streaked with gray, and while her mother had always been skinny, a product of her cigarette-smoking habit, she was now so thin her cheeks were hollow and the shadows under her eyes were very pronounced. She was only sixty-three years old, but she looked at least ten years older. Probably the alcohol, Carole thought cynically. The last time she’d seen her mother, Nora had been falling-down drunk.

“Hello, Mom,” she said, finally finding her voice.

“I can’t say I ever expected to see you here, Carly," Nora said, shaking her head in bemusement.

“I never expected to be here.”

“Is something wrong – your children–”

“No, she said, cutting her off. “My kids are fine, and so is my husband.”

“Then…”

“It’s my birthday.”

“I know what day it is. I was there when you were born. I would have sent a card, but after the last few came back, I figured it was pointless. You’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t want anything to do with me.” A bright pain filled Nora’s eyes.

“Can you blame me? The last time I invited you to a birthday party, my thirtieth, you showed up drunk. You insulted Blake. You called my daughter by the wrong name and made her cry, and you humiliated me.” The words flew out of her mouth, fueled by some of the whiskey she’d drunk in the limo.

“And you’ve waited ten years to tell me that?” her mother asked wearily. She stepped away from the door and walked back into the apartment.

Carole followed her inside, closing the door behind her.

As she glanced around the small living room, she was struck by how much it looked like the home she’d grown up in. The coffee table was the same one she’d colored on. During one of her craft periods, her aunt had crocheted the afghan that hung over the back of the couch. And the pictures on the table were all from her childhood. Some were school pictures, others taken with kids in the neighborhood, a few of her mom and aunt with some of their friends. They were all from another lifetime.

She moved across the room and picked up the photo of the scene that had flashed through her mind only hours earlier. It had been taken on her eighth birthday, the candles blazing, just before Alex had shoved Peter into her cake. She put down the photo and turned around.

Her mother sat on the couch and reached for her cigarettes.

“I’d rather you didn’t smoke,” Carole said quickly. “I can barely breathe in here as it is.”

Her mother reluctantly set down the pack. “Why don’t you say your piece and then you can go.”

She wanted to do exactly that, but now that she was here, she couldn’t find the words.

“You look pretty, Carly,” her mother said, a sad, wistful note in her voice. “That’s a beautiful dress. And you’re so tan. Have you been on vacation?”

“It's a spray tan.”

“Well, you look good. Were you at a party?”

She nodded. “My party.”

“It’s over early.”

“It’s not over; I left.”

“Why?” Nora tilted her head, giving her a questioning look. The familiar gesture reminded her of all the times her mother had tried to figure her out. But as close as they’d been, they’d also been very different.

She sat down on the edge of a chair and clasped her hands together. “I’m forty.”

“It’s hard to believe,” her mother acknowledged.

She blew out a breath. “I have no idea why I’m here.”

“Maybe you missed me,” her mother suggested.

That idea would have seemed unthinkable only a few hours ago, but now in her mother’s presence, surrounded by her past, she felt the ache in her heart go deeper. “Maybe,” she conceded.

“Well,” her mother said, surprise in her eyes, “that’s something.” Her gaze narrowed. “What did he do?”

“Who?”

“Your husband. Blake hurt you, didn’t he?”

She twisted her wedding ring around her finger. “Not physically. Blake would never hit me the way Daddy–”

“I wasn’t suggesting he hit you,” Nora interrupted. “Only that he hurt you.”

“I saw him with a woman. There was something between them. She was really young and very confident.”

“They usually are.”

“She gave me a smirking, pitying smile, as if she had something up on me. It was disgusting.”

“So he’s cheating on you?”

“No. Maybe. I hope not. I don’t know.” The words tumbled out of her, and she got up and walked restlessly around the small room. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Why not run to one of your friends?”

“I wouldn’t want to suggest to any of my friends that Blake was cheating on me. That’s the last thing I would say.”

“No one gets to see anything you don’t want them to see,” her mother said cynically. “Don’t you get tired of the pretense, Carly?”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Carole.”

“Not in this house. You’ll always be Carly to me no matter how expensive a dress you’re wearing, or how much you spend to highlight your hair or do your nails. Underneath it all, you’re still the girl who dipped Oreos into milk and played hopscotch on the sidewalk and snuggled with me in bed on Sunday mornings.”

“My childhood was not all Oreos and hopscotch,” she retorted. “It was also worrying about whether or not we’d have money for food, or if dad would come home high or drunk and want to beat the crap out of you.”

A flush covered her mother’s cheeks. “I can’t change what happened with your dad. I kicked him out as soon as I could manage on my own.”

“I was ten by then.”

“I know exactly how old you were,” Nora said fiercely. “If I could have found the strength when you were born or when you were two or five, I would have gotten away from him, but I was young and stupid, and I made mistakes. But through it all, I loved you with every ounce of my being. I have a lot to feel bad about, but I know in my heart I gave you a lot of love. And for a long time, you loved me back.”

Now she was the one feeling guilty.

“I don’t think you came here just to yell at me,” Nora added. “But I could be wrong. You’ve changed a lot over the years. Maybe you just needed to get rid of the hatred in your heart. Is that it?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m just – confused. And I haven’t changed all that much. I just grew up, that’s all,” she said defensively.

“You didn’t just grow up, you grew cold.”

How could a woman she hadn’t seen in more than a decade still know her better than anyone else?

Nora stood up. “I wish I could stay and talk to you. Lord knows I have a lot I’d like to say, questions to ask. I want to know about my grandbabies. I want to know about you, but I have to go to work, Carly.”

“It’s almost ten o’clock. The diner isn’t open this late.”

“I’m also helping your Aunt Eileen with her cleaning service. She does the law building on Evans Street at night.”

“You’re working two jobs? But I send you money.” It was the one thing she did to allay some of the guilt she felt over their broken relationship.

“And I have it all in a bank account with your children’s names on it. They’ll get it back when I die.”

“What are you talking about? That money is for you. My kids have what they need.”

“And I don’t
need
your money. I never wanted your charity, Carly. I wanted you in my life. You’re my daughter.”

“I wanted you in my life, too, but the last time I tried, you were drunk. You made an ass of yourself, and Blake told me he didn’t want you back.”

“It wasn’t my finest moment,” Nora conceded. “I admit that. You might not believe it, but I drank so much that night because I was nervous. It was the first time you’d invited me to your fancy house with your rich friends, and I didn’t think I was going to fit in. I wasn’t sure how to act, but I went too far.”

“All you had to do was be sober. That wasn’t a lot to ask.”

Her mother shook her head, bitterness in her eyes. “That’s not all you wanted me to be, Carly. You wanted me to be the mother you wished you had, the one you could be proud of, and I was never going to be that, sober or otherwise. You think I don’t know why you were so eager to grow up and get out from under me?”

Carole felt another twinge of guilt. “I just wanted a better life.”

“Well, you got what you wanted.” Nora grabbed her car keys and bag and headed toward the door.

She followed her mother into the hall, waiting as she locked the doors, wishing she knew what to say, because her mother was about to take off, and she felt more unsettled now than she had been before she arrived. In fact, she didn’t feel forty anymore; she felt about fifteen. And that was a really weird feeling. She was still searching for words when they went down the stairs and out to the street.

Her mother paused, giving the limo a long glance. “That’s nice.”

“Blake rented it for my birthday. Let me give you a ride to work.”

“I’ve got my car.”

“Mom, wait,” she said impulsively as her mother turned to leave.

“What?”

“I want to talk to you some more. We need to continue this conversation.”

Surprise flashed in her mom’s eyes. “Really?”

“Yes. I didn’t realize how much unfinished business I had until I got here. What time do you get off?”

“Around one.”

That was almost three hours away. The smart thing to do would be to go home and come back in the morning, but she had the strange sense that whatever needed to be said needed to be said tonight. “I’ll drop you off at work, and then pick you up at one,” she said impulsively.

Nora gave her a doubtful look. “What are you going to do in the meantime?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

“What about your husband?”

“He probably hasn’t even noticed I’m gone,” she lied.

“I doubt that.”

“It doesn’t matter. I could use some time away from Blake. And the kids are both sleeping at friend’s houses. Blake and I were going to stay at the Remington Hotel. He rented a suite for my birthday.”

“Then that’s where you should be.”

“I can’t be with him tonight.”

“He won’t like it.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“But you’ve let him run your life.”

She couldn’t deny that there was some truth in her mother’s words. “Maybe, but that was my choice. Now, it's my choice to spend some time with you. So how about that ride?”

“Okay,” her mother said finally.

She opened the door. “After you.”