WHAT YOU WISH FOR One by one, the million dollar Tudor and Colonial houses in Whispering Willows twinkled to life as they announced the arrival of the Christmas season. Each elaborate Christmas display of multi colored lights and fragrant evergreens were testament to the annual Chamber of Commerce contest whose grand prize was a trip for two to Hawaii. The lone exception to the festive season was the unlighted house at 24565 Willow Lane. She waited, her entire body trembling, for the door to open. The terrier at her feet hugged her ankles and then started to whimper. Helen let her gaze sweep through the rooms. As always, she was amazed at the costly furnishings, the custom draperies, the thick pile carpeting and various antiques and art on the walls. Her life in a trailer park hadn't prepared her for this grandeur. None of the rich furnishings were to her taste. She preferred cozy and comfortable while her husband Daniel lived to out-do his neighbors and co-workers with fine things. Among other things, her husband was a braggart. Her image bounced off the foyer mirror. The same image her husband would see when he opened the door. Maybe she should have slipped into a sack dress instead of the sweats. Surely those dark brown eyes full of terror weren't hers. Would the rich chestnut hair piled high on her head stay in the pins once Daniel entered the house? Who was this tall, shapely woman? A woman who was terrified of her husband she answered herself. She wished she could lie down and go to sleep for a week. She wished she had the courage to run out into the night and never return. She wished she was a widow. She wished for so many things. Most of all she wished for peace and harmony. None of which were within her grasp. Not now. Not ever. Helen tore her gaze away from the foyer mirror. The car had careened into the driveway much too fast. The slam of the car door was too forceful, too loud. All indicators that Daniel Ward was in a rage. When Daniel was in one of his rages, she ended up bruised and bloody. An icy chill ran down Helen Ward's spine. The little dog whimpered. She did her best to suppress her own whimpers. "Go in your bed, Lucie. Hurry! Run, Lucie!" The little dog listened to the terror in her mistresses' voice before she obeyed the order and scampered off, her pudgy rear end wobbling from side to side. Her eyes full of fear, her shoulders stiff with apprehension, Helen struggled for a light tone when the front door burst open. "Hello, Daniel, did you have a good day?" She wondered if the terror she felt showed on her face. Obviously it did because Daniel's eyes narrowed to slits as he strode through the living room, stopping in the doorway to the dining room where she was standing. He was so close she could smell his breath "I thought I told you to be ready when I got home. Christ Almighty, do you ever do anything you're told?" "I am ready, Daniel. All I have to do is slip on my dress. It's linen and I didn't want it to wrinkle," Helen said, her gaze never leaving her husband's face. "Then why in the goddamn hell did you buy a linen dress? You're going to look like a wrinkled up fucking bag lady by the time we get to the party." "Then I'll wear something different. It's not a problem, Daniel." "Do I have to do all your thinking? Why can't you ever make a decent decision? You're supposed to wear something festive and sparkly to a Christmas party. Linen is not sparkly and festive. Linen is boring, just like you, Helen." Maybe if she turned now and headed for the bedroom, he'd let it go. Maybe a lot of things. She wasn't going to move and she knew it. How could she, her feet were rooted to the floor? Daniel stepped forward and then to the side, his feet scattering pine needles that dropped from the Christmas tree. "What the fuck do you do all day, Helen? Why are these needles all over the floor? Look! They're all over the dining room table, too. How goddamn hard is it to clean up pine needles?" Helen's voice was a mere whisper. Her fear was so total, so all consuming, she literally wilted. "The evergreens are dry. I did sprinkle water on the centerpiece. There's water in the tree stand. I cleaned it several times today. The tree and center piece are three weeks old," she murmured. She wasn't sure if her husband heard her defense or not. In the end, it wouldn't matter. "Are you telling me I made a bad choice when I picked out the tree and the center piece?" His voice was so ugly, so hateful, Helen felt her insides start to shrivel. Yes, yes, yes. "That's not what I said, Daniel. The trees are dry due to lack of rain this summer. The man at the tree stand told us that when we bought the tree. It's been on the news, too. The commentators are warning people to be careful of Christmas tree fires." "I didn't hear the tree man say that and I sure as hell didn't hear it on the news either. You're just one fucking excuse after another. Clean up this damn mess or we're going to be late." To Daniel, cleaning up the mess meant dragging out the vacuum cleaner, brushing the needles into a neat little pile then scooping them up with a dustpan followed by a thorough vacuuming. The center piece would require a clean tablecloth and then more needles would fall. The vacuum would have to be returned to the closet. More time, thirty minutes at best. Those thirty minutes would make them late for Arthur King's yearly Christmas party. She wanted to cry. Instead she bit down on her lower lip until she tasted her own blood. She had to get the vacuum cleaner and she had to get it now. Don't look at his eyes. Just get the vacuum. Easy to say, not so easy to do. "I'll just be a minute, Daniel." "A minute my ass. It's going to take you at least a half hour if you do it right. You still have to get dressed. You always manage to screw everything up, Helen. You had all damn day. All god damn day! You should have been dressed and waiting at the door. King hates it when anyone is late. He plans on some big announcements this evening. That means a promotion. How's it going to look when we arrive an hour late? You just fucked it up!" Helen's shoulders slumped. There would be no party for her tonight. Just do it, Daniel, and get it over with. Beat me black and blue and then storm out of the house. Do it already, her mind shrieked. She took the first blow high on her cheekbone. The second punch sent her reeling backwards straight into the Christmas tree, toppling it sideways. She was aware of tinkling glass and a flurry of pine needles whipping past her face. She felt her own warm blood trickling down her cheek and neck. Stitches. God in heaven, what excuse would she give the ER people this time? She struggled to right herself but the prickly, dry pine branches were everywhere. Suddenly she was yanked upright, her head jerking backward. A hard driving punch to her chest threw her into the tree a second time. She screamed before she lost her breath. "Stop! Please, Daniel, stop! Go to the party. I'll clean this up. Tell them I have the flu. Please, Daniel!" "Damn right, you'll clean this up. I'm tired of lying for you. You ruin everything! You think you know everything. You're just like my mother and my sister but they have brains. You're fucking stupid, Helen. There's not a brain in your head." Gasping for breath, Helen struggled to extricate herself from the Christmas tree. She was on her knees when she saw Daniel raise his foot. She tried to roll away but the trunk of the huge evergreen and its branches held her prisoner as her husband's foot shot forward with one hundred and eighty pounds of force. She screamed and screamed as hot flashing pain seared her body. She knew she was going to black out. She even welcomed the darkness she would slip into. A furious flurry of movement startled her. Her one good eye fixed on the small terrier bent on coming to her aid. She saw Daniel's foot raise a second time, saw Lucie on the end of his shoe and then she was sailing through the air to land next to her head in the nest of evergreens. "You bastard! You miserable, stinking bastard," Helen shrieked. With every ounce of will left in her body, she rolled away from the tree to land next to the hearth where she grappled for the fire tongs that had fallen over. Above her own screeching voice she could hear Lucie whimpering. "I'm coming, Lucie, I'm coming, baby." The poker in her hand, she was on her knees, pain driving through her body as she struggled to get upright. The moment she saw Daniel start to raise his foot a third time she swung the poker with all her might. The instant Daniel doubled over, she swung a second time, down across his back. "How does it feel, you son of a bitch? I'm coming, Lucie, I'm coming. Just hold on, baby. I'm not finished here yet. How does this feel, Daniel?" Helen screamed as she jabbed the poker into the small of her husband's back. When she saw blood start to soak his jacket she lifted her leg and brought her foot down on her husband's face where she ground the heel of her sneaker back and forth. "Wait a minute. You need to feel this, too." She raised her foot again and sent it crashing into his side, not once, not twice, but three times. "Now you're good to go to your damn party. You have yourself a fucking good time. You hear me, Daniel!" Helen raged. The pain in her body was so intense she reached out to hold onto the mantle. A second later she had Lucie in her arms. She crooned to the little dog as she staggered out into the dark night. " I'm taking you to a vet, Lucie. I'll get you help. We're never going back there. I'll clean toilets in a dirty gas station before I go back there. You're going to be okay, baby. Just hang on. Please hang on, Lucie, you're all I have. It's going to be okay, Lucie. I promise. I promise, Lucie. I never make a promise I can't keep. Trust me, baby. I have to rest a minute. Just for a minute, Lucie. I have to get my bearings. We've been zigzagging through people's yards. I can't see very well. My eyes are swelling shut. It's going to be okay, Lucie. I promise. I promise, Lucie." She was a deer caught in the headlights when a motorist screeched to a stop. Blinded by the light, Helen dropped to her knees. Her hold on the little dog was fierce. "Lady, are you okay? What's wrong?" the driver shouted. "I didn't see you!" It was a kind voice, a caring voice. "Help me. Please. Take me to the nearest vet. Please. My dog needs attention. Can you do that?" "Can you get in the car?" the caring voice asked. "Yes. Please hurry. My dog needs a vet." The good Samaritan's caring voice turned anxious. "There's a vet a few blocks away. I think his name is Davis. It's one of those house things. You know, the offices in the back. Is that okay?" "I don't care if he works in a tent. It's fine. I appreciate this. I don't have any money to . . . pay you." "I don't want any money. I don't even want to know what happened . . . I don't mean that the way it sounds. What I meant was, I don't want to get involved." "All I want is to get to a vet. You can drop me off and you'll never see me again. Aren't we there yet?" "We are now. I'll pull right into the driveway and ring the bell for you. I have to leave then. Let me help you. Jesus, lady, are you sure you're okay? You look worse than your dog. Take my arm. Do you want me to carry the dog?" "I thought you didn't want to get involved. The answer is no. I'll hold my own dog. Thanks for the ride. Someday I hope I can return the favor." "The light's on. A door's opening. Careful now. You need to see a doctor, lady." "I will when I'm sure my dog is okay. Thanks again." Tears rolled down Helen's cheeks as she walked into the sterile, antiseptic smelling office. "Help my dog. Please. She's all I have. I know what I look like. Don't worry about me. I've been worse. You have to talk to her. She's scared. I just ran with her. Maybe I shouldn't have moved her. I didn't know what else to do. Is she going to be okay? You can help her, can't you? I promised her she would be okay. I promised to take care of her forever and ever. I never break a promise. She's all I have. I'm all she has. Please, please, I beg you, help her." "Young woman, sit! Do not move. That's an order! I will take care of this dog. It's what I do for a living. I'll patch you up when I'm finished with your pet. What's her name?" His voice while stern was not unkind. "Lucie. She's all I have. I need you to understand that. She . . . she likes it when you sing, Twinkle, twinkle little star . . ." Helen's voice trailed off. "I think I can handle that. Don't move, young woman. There's some brandy in a bottle over the sink. Take a couple of belts. You need it." Helen took a minute to stare into a set of kind eyes. The perfect vet. White hair, pink cheeks, wire rim glasses, warm smile and wonderful hands. Hands that would make Lucie well. She nodded as she swigged from the brandy bottle. And then she waited. Time lost all meaning as Helen stared at the sterile looking wall with its pictures of heart worms, fleas and other parasites. She prayed for Lucie, cursed her husband and then asked for forgiveness for her wicked thoughts where Daniel was concerned. Was Daniel dead? She hoped he was. Mean, ugly people like Daniel didn't die. They just lived on to torment other people. If Daniel died, she would be a murderer. She'd go to jail. Who would take care of Lucie? Would Dr. Gerald Davis take her in and love her the way she loved her? Maybe she should call the house to see if Daniel was alive or dead. If police answered the phone then she'd know he was dead. What was going to happen to her? If Daniel was still alive, would he file a police report? Would the authorities start looking for her? She didn't have five cents to her name. Maybe she could go to a woman's shelter. Maybe this kindly vet would take her there. Then again, maybe he was like the good Samaritan who didn't want to get involved. What time was it? Somehow she'd lost her watch? She heard his quiet tread. She looked up. How tall he was. Almost as tall as Daniel. She struggled to get up but the vet put his hand on her shoulder, an indication that she should stay seated. "Lucie is resting. You're right, she calmed right down when I started to . . . ah . . . sing to her. We'll know more in the next few hours. I won't lie to you. It's going to be touch and go." "I want to see her." "She's sleeping. She's stable." "I don't care. I need to see her. She needs to feel my touch. Dogs can tell even when they're sleeping. I don't want her to think I deserted her. Please." Helen limped behind the vet, her hand flying to her mouth when she saw her beloved little dog lying so still. She threw herself over the animal and started to babble. "Don't you die on me, Lucie. Do you hear me? You're all I have. I didn't bring you here to die. I brought you here to get better. It's me and you, Lucie. We're never going back there, not ever. Do you hear me? Not ever. I'm going to find someone to help us. First you have to get better. I promised to take care of you forever and ever. I never break a promise, Lucie. Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder where you are . . ." "Now, she's sleeping. It's a good sleep. She needed to hear my voice, to know I'm here. I can tell by the way she's breathing. Look, Dr. Davis, see for yourself." "Well, gosh darn, and to think I went to medical school all those years and never learned to sing to a dog. You're right. She is breathing easier. Come now, let me see what I can do to fix you up. Lucie is okay for now. We're just going to be in the next room. Take a couple of more pulls from that brandy bottle. You're going to need some stitches. I suspect you have a couple of cracked ribs, too. Who did this to you?" "My husband." God, it was such a relief to say the words out loud. "How long as he been doing this to you?" "A long time. I wanted to leave. I tried but he always found me and dragged me back. I have no money, no where to go. I . . . I didn't want anyone to know. I feel so . . . dirty, so pathetic. I tried . . . no matter what I did it wasn't good enough. He would always say he was sorry, he'd promise never to do it again. There's so much pressure on his job. He'd bring me gifts, be really nice to me for a while and then he'd do it all over again. I called a shelter once and he found out. He would come home and check the phone to see whom I called. It has that button on it. He said if I ever tried to do that again he'd kill Lucie. Tonight was the last straw for me. He never hurt Lucie before. He's the one who gave her to me. When Lucie is well enough, can you take me to a shelter? I'll find a way to make it up to you. It might take me a while but I will repay you." "Lift up your shirt. I'm going to take some x-rays. Young lady, you are in worse shape than your dog. Why didn't you ever report this to the police?" "Fear is a terrible thing, Dr. Davis. I lived in fear, every day of my life. Just the thought of going to the police was more than I could bear. I'm a coward. I truly, truly believed he would kill me. Lucie made it all bearable. She loves me." "Yes, I believe she does. Animals are amazing. They bring comfort, they love unconditionally and they are loyal. Man's best friend. A woman's, too," the vet added hastily. "She got me through some bad times. I can't tell you how much I love her." "I think I have a pretty good idea. Now that we have you all patched up, I think it might be a good idea if I set up a cot here next to Lucie. I'm about ready to call it a night myself. Not as young as I used to be. I'll be retiring very soon. If you need me, just go through the door from the examining room and call me. I'll sleep with one eye and ear open." "I don't know how to thank you, Dr. Davis." "All the thanks I need are seeing you and Lucie getting better. Is there anything I can get you before I retire?" "No. You don't have to get a cot. I can sleep in the chair. I'm going to have to leave in the morning. Daniel is going to be looking for me. He knows he hurt Lucie and knows I would take her to a vet." "From what you've told me, I don't think he's going to come looking for you for a few days. I imagine he might be in the hospital himself. I can check that out in the morning. Call me if Lucie wakes up. I don't think she will, but she might." Helen nodded as she waited for the vet to return with a folding cot, blankets and pillow. The moment the door closed, Helen opened the oversized kennel door and climbed in next to Lucie. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star how I . . ." In his upstairs bedroom, Gerald Davis picked up the phone and punched in a set of numbers. "Izzie, Gerry. I need you to come over to the office first thing in the morning. I have someone I want you to meet. She needs you, Izzie and her dog Lucie needs you. The morning will be time enough, Izzie. I'm sure. I knew as soon as I mentioned Lucie you'd want to barrel right over here. Trust me. Five thirty will be fine," the vet sighed. "You aren't going to sleep, are you? Fine, come now. Use the front door. Coffee? I was thinking more along the lines of a double shot of bourbon. I'll have it ready. I knew I could count on you. I'll see you in a bit." ##### She was one-hundred pounds of pure energy as she sashayed into Gerald Davis' living room. "I hope no one saw me coming here at this hour of the night. It could damage your reputation, Gerry. Where is she?" "For God's sake, Izzie, sit down and have a drink. The young lady and her dog are sleeping. There's nothing we can do till it gets light and I'm not sure we can do anything then. I'm not even sure the little dog is going to make it. I think she will but I'm not sure. I've never seen anything so sad or gut wrenching in my life. Well, maybe once before. Okay, okay, let's go. Not a peep, Izzie. We look in the door and that's it. Swear!" "I swear. What took you so long in calling me?" the little woman squawked. Gerry ignored her as he tiptoed to the operating room. "Lord have mercy," Isabel Tyger whispered as she wiped at a tear in her eye. She handed her tissue to Gerry who gave his own eyes a quick swipe. In the kitchen, Isabel, hands on hips, her voice shaking with rage, demanded to know who the woman was. "I don't know. I didn't ask her name. I learned that from you, Izzie. I figured I was ahead of the game when she told me the dog's name. She said her husband beat her. This time she gave back as good as she got. All these years she never fought back. Never defended herself. Tonight the husband attacked her dog. That was her breaking point. Some good might come of this Izzie. You'll take her to your shelter when she's well enough, won't you?" "Yes. She won't leave the dog, you know that, don't you?" "She can stay as long as necessary. I just want to make sure she has a place to go to. My fear is the husband might show up. He's likely to canvas all the vets in the area." "If he shows up, you lie, Gerry. Where's the bourbon you promised me?" "Make me a double, Izzie. It's going to be a long night and we need a plan." Isabel Tyger, wealthy philanthropist and lover of animals, poured generously. "I called you because . . ." "I know why you called me," the diminutive woman said. "Drink up!" "No, Izzie, I need to tell you. She kept talking to the little dog, saying, I promised to take care of you for the rest of your life. I made a promise to you. She said it over and over. It took me back, Izzie. I remember you saying those exact same words and there was nothing we could do. This is our chance now, yours, mine and Artie's. Do you understand what I'm saying?" "Yes, of course I do. I think you're right. Thank God that motorist brought her to you and not that yuppie vet two blocks over. You look tired, Gerry. Go to bed. I'll stay here with them. She's going to be one very sore lady come morning. Aren't you glad now I made you get that Jacuzzi? She's going to need it in the morning. She looks familiar to me. I've seen her before some place." "If you figure it out, don't wake me. Tell me in the morning. Thanks for coming over, Izzie." "I guess it's payback time for all the times I woke you and Artie at four in the morning to come out to the ranch." "Go easy on that bottle. I'm just going to take a catnap. Wake me if things go awry." "All right, Gerry. Sleep well." In the blink of an eye, Isabel slid off the chair and trotted into the clinic where she gently eased herself to the floor. She stared at the sleeping woman and dog, her thoughts taking her back in time to a place and a time she hated. She stretched out her hand to smooth the hair back from the young woman's face but her eyes were on the little dog. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She blinked them away. Some times memories were a terrible thing. newsflash / biography / bookshelf / contest my latest / complete list / my favorites / my suggestions chapter one / series list / my publisher / my blog / site map / contact Copyright ©1997-2008 by First Draft, Inc. All rights reserved.