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Authors: Fern Michaels

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BOOK: What You Wish For
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It was four o'clock when Helen stacked all her sketches and her lists into a neat pile. She took a last look around the apartment, checked the doors again, and turned off all the lights.
Lucie squirmed off the pillow, making room for Helen's head. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, with her arm around her beloved pet.
 
Up to her neck in boxes, materials, books, and ledgers, Helen stopped what she was doing when Lucie suddenly let out an earsplitting howl. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. At the same moment she dropped to a low crouch to hide behind one of the larger packing boxes. “Lucie, get over here. Shhhh. Come here, girl!”
Someone was coming to her door. Friend or foe? “Come here, Lucie,” Helen said a second time. The little dog scampered over to where she was hiding and leaped into her arms. “Shhh, Lucie. No barking.” She placed the open palm of her hand loosely over the dog's mouth. It was something Lucie knew and understood from their days back in California. The Yorkie trembled in her arms.
They waited for the inevitable knock on the door. When it came, Helen started to shake as hard as the little dog. She struggled for a deep breath, her heart knocking inside her rib cage. Was it always going to be like this? Of course it was. A stranger would always be a stranger.
The knock was loud on the metal door. Overly loud. Way too loud. She hated the sound.
Helen almost fainted when she heard a voice shout, “Miss Baker, I'm Les Webster from the college. You called about your web page a couple of days ago. Professor Tolliver sent me.”
“It's okay, Lucie, Sam sent him. This time, it's okay.”
Helen wove her way through the boxes to the door. “I'm sorry, Les, I was in the other room,” she lied. “Come in.” Her hold on Lucie was secure.
“Cute dog,” the young man said. “Great computer. Top-of-the-line. I like this,” he said, sitting down and flexing his fingers. “With what you told me on the phone and what Professor Tolliver said, I think I'll just get to it if that's okay with you. Just go on with what you were doing. I won't bother you.”
“That's it? You don't want any input? You don't want me to sit next to you and tell you how I see it all?”
“Nope. Sex sells. We know that. I have all the pictures right here. Sexy underwear. I'm your man. I have five sisters. You want flash, pizzazz, bright colors, and lots and lots of
sass.
Like I said, I'm your man.”
“Oh,” was all Helen could think of to say.
“My sisters seem to think you need something ethereal if you want to go with the feathers for your, ah, innocent line. Clouds, lots of lace, and a demure whatever-that-thing-is.”
Helen watched the gangly young man as he clicked and clicked at the keyboard. Lucie barked once and then again.
“Cute dog. We have three dogs at home,” Les said absently. “Big dogs. They eat a lot. Do your best to keep yours quiet. I have to concentrate.”
Helen nodded until she realized the boy couldn't see her. He couldn't be more than nineteen, and it was doubtful he'd shaved yet. His hair was a richly burnished copper color. There was no part, no effort to control the corkscrew curls that stood straight in the air. They were a perfect match for the millions of freckles that peppered his face and arms. His jeans had so many rips and tears in them Helen had to fight herself not to offer to sew them for him. The rugby shirt was worn and faded and looked extremely comfortable. Sam had one just like it. The sneakers he wore looked like Sam's, too, half-beaten to death, worn, and dirty, the laces frayed and just as dirty. He turned and smiled. “Did I pass muster?”
“Uh-huh.” Helen decided she liked him. “Would you like something to drink, a Coke, coffee, or tea?”
“Maybe some herbal tea, but later.”
Helen knew the moment the words were out of his mouth, she was forgotten. He was so engrossed with what he was doing, the building could cave in and he wouldn't notice.
“Okay, Lucie, let's me and you go for a walk. Get your leash, baby.”
“Professor Tolliver was just parking his car when I got here,” the kid threw over his shoulder as Helen opened the door.
“Really,” was all she could think of to say. Sam was back. Lucie would be so happy. She felt giddy at the thought. She'd missed the big Lab. She'd missed Sam, too.
God, I really missed Sam. A lot. More than a lot.
Lucie jerked forward, dragging Helen down the walkway to Sam's door, where she let out a ferocious bark. An answer came through the door. The Yorkie danced and pranced until Sam opened the door. She was inside in a flash, running to Max and tumbling all over him.
“Too bad her owner doesn't greet her neighbor the way her dog does,” Sam grumbled.
“Hello, Sam. It's nice to see you. We missed you. I missed you. I really did. All she did was mope around.”
“That's what Max did. I thought he was sick at first. Then I showed him a picture I had of all of us. You remember the one I took when we went fishing at Round Valley. I stapled it to his blanket. He was kind of okay after that. Did you really miss me, or are you just saying that?”
“No, I really missed you. I knew the dogs would miss each other. What will we do if one of us moves away?”
“I'm not going anywhere,” Sam said. “Are you planning on moving?”
“Not right now. Someday I hope to buy a little house with a yard so Lu . . . so Nine-A can run around.” Damn, it was still hard to keep thinking of Lucie as Nine-A.
“Someday could be a long way off,” Sam said glumly. “Want to come in for coffee? I brought back some flavored, the kind you like.”
“Sure. I guess I'm kind of in the way in my apartment. I can't wait to get a place where I can store all this stuff. I feel like I'm living in a warehouse. By the way, I quit my job yesterday. I was going to ask to borrow your newspaper to look for a store location. Want to come with me?”
“Okay, but I don't know what you're going to find on a Sunday afternoon.”
“I'm just looking. Once the web page goes up, I'm going to need the space. I'll feel like I'm going to work if I have a place of my own. I hope this works. I'm so nervous about it all. I've never done anything like this before. It's kind of scary.”
“You have to start somewhere. How about if we rent a video tonight. We can order in, pizza or Chinese. My place of course. Les will work straight through the evening. We'll have to feed him.”
Helen felt flustered. There was a look in Sam's eyes she'd never seen before. “That . . . that sounds good,” she managed to say.
“We could have a sleepover.” Sam grinned. “We could share secrets. We
could
pretend we're married and do all the things married people do. Hell, I'm up for
anything.
”
Helen knew the color drained from her face, and it felt like an army of ants was marching around inside her stomach. “You mean . . . well . . . listen, Sam, I thought we had a clear understanding about our friendship.”
Sam took her face in both his hands. “I do have an understanding. I like you a lot, Nancy. You know that. Jesus, I consider you to be one of my best friends. I enjoy your company more than that of any of my other friends. Sometimes friendships change into something more meaningful. Maybe this one won't. I'm hoping it will. However, I don't see that happening if you don't open up to me. I'm not stupid. I'm not deaf, dumb,
and
blind either. I know you aren't exactly what you pretend to be. I even suspect your dog's
real
name is not Nine-A. We are never going to get beyond this point if you don't open up to me. You can trust me, Nancy.”
“I know that, Sam. Sometimes I wish I'd never met you and your dog. Then the other times, I am so glad I did. I just can't . . . it isn't that I don't . . . I can't,” Helen said flatly. “When the time is right, you are the first person I'll run to. I want you to trust me. Can you do that, Sam, for just a little while longer?”
Until I get hold of Boots and she tells me it is okay.
“Okay, let me get this straight. We're going to do the video and the ordering in. We are not going to have a sleepover. We are just going to watch the video, hold hands and snuggle and maybe eat some popcorn while our dogs cavort around us.”
“That's pretty much it,” Helen said. “It has to be this way, Sam.”
“I'm okay with it, Nancy.”
Well, I'm not okay with it. I wish I could tell you how much I want you. I want to feel your arms around me. I want to make love to you. I want us to wake up next to each other in the morning and then make love again. I can't go to bed with someone who thinks my name is Nancy and calls me Nancy. When I make love to you, it will be as Helen Stanley. Not as Nancy Baker, and never as Helen Ward.
10
Sam Tolliver looked in the mirror. “So you aren't Brad Pitt or George Clooney,” he grimaced. “By the same token, Brad Pitt and George Clooney aren't college professors with a 110-pound chocolate Lab.” He stuck his tongue out at his reflection. Max growled and swatted his tail against his master's leg. It was his way of saying, get a move on.
The call had come in just minutes ago from Les, saying Nancy's web page was finished and up and running. His first inclination was to run down the hall to Nancy's apartment and tell her. Then he decided to get a sneak preview. He'd whistled at the clever graphics and had felt his neck grow warm at the foxy-looking underwear Sassie Lassie featured. This definitely called for a celebration.
Wine bottle in hand, freshly shaved, wearing a clean shirt, clean socks, and underwear, he was ready to celebrate. He hoped Nancy felt the same way. Maybe he should have gotten her some flowers. Where the hell did you find flowers at ten o'clock at night? Nowhere he knew of. The wine would have to do.
“Yeah, yeah, we're going, Max. First, though, I need to . . . plan my . . . you know, my presentation. This is a biggie for Nancy. I want her to know I'm as excited as she is about her new business. Plus, I think I'm falling in love with her. If I tell her, though, she'll back off. She's spooked enough as it is. Two weeks ago when she told me she might move I thought I was going to pass out. That means she'll take her dog with her. Where does that leave us, Max? Out in the cold, that's where. If she even
thinks
I'm putting a move on her, she freezes. Enough of this. Let's go!”
Max was at the door, his tail swishing furiously, before Sam could get off the kitchen chair. He barked at the door to Helen's apartment before Sam had time to close and lock his own door.
“I have news! Good news! Wonderful news!” Sam shouted as he entered Helen's apartment.
The moment the door closed behind him, Sam playfully dropped to a low, menacing crouch, the wine bottle swinging wildly in his hand. And then all hell broke loose as Lucie leaped through the air to grab at Sam's shirtfront as she strained to reach his throat. Helen backed to the door, her face whiter than the ceiling she was standing under. She cowered, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes fearful. Max skidded across the floor to reach up and grab Lucie by the scruff of the neck. He barked wildly, circling Sam first and then Helen. It was clear he didn't know what to do, whom to protect.
“What the hell!” Sam exploded. “Your dog almost ripped out my throat! What are you doing, Nancy? What's wrong? You look like you think . . . Oh Jesus, I think I know what you and your dog are thinking. Down, Max. Easy . . . Nine-A. That's a good girl. Nancy, come over here and sit down.
Now
, Nancy! You thought I was going to strike you, didn't you? I would never do that. I think it's time for us to talk. Really talk.”
Helen drew a deep breath as Lucie leaped to her lap. She was trembling so badly, Helen opened her sweater and covered her, holding her close. “It was just an instinctive reaction. I'm sorry. You looked so . . . threatening there for a minute. I wish I could talk to you, but I can't. I have to follow the rules. If I break them . . .”
“What happens if you break them?” Sam asked gently.
“I . . . won't . . . I can't expect you to understand. Maybe it's better if we don't see each other anymore.”
“Oh, no! That's bullshit. I'm not leaving here till you tell me what's going on. I think I can pretty much figure it out myself, but I'd like to hear you tell me. I'd like you to trust me enough to tell me on your own. I give you my word, I won't let anything happen to you or your dog.”
Helen held the little dog tighter. “I do trust you, Sam. I really do. I just can't say anything to you until I get approval to do so. When you break the rules, the program doesn't work. It's that simple. Can we leave it at that?”
“No. If I didn't care for you, maybe. As it is, I think I'm falling in love with you. I even think you care for me, odd as that may sound, but there has to be trust on both our parts; otherwise, it isn't going to work. I think I would trust you with my life. Hell, I trust you with my dog. I never let anyone keep my dog. Nine-A likes me. She lets me pick her up, cuddle her, and she comes willingly to my apartment even if you aren't there. What in the hell happened here a few minutes ago? Are you in the Witness Protection Program? I need to know. Please tell me, Nancy.”
Helen made an instant decision when she saw the concern in Sam's eyes. She knew she would regret it, but she didn't care. She licked at her dry lips. “My name isn't Nancy Baker. I truly, truly hate that name. My name is Helen. It was the way you came into the apartment, crouching low and swinging the wine bottle. My husband beat my dog so badly she almost died. He beat me, too. I had broken bones, fractures, wounds of all shapes and sizes. I went to the doctors and the emergency room so many times I lost count. The night he attacked ... Nine-A was my breaking point. I ran with her and a very kind motorist picked us up and took us to a vet. He saved her life, fixed me up, and managed to contact a women's shelter. They took me in, and I didn't look back. They did all this,” Helen said, waving her arms about. “They set me up here, got me a job, got me phony credentials, you know, a driver's license, a Visa card, a new social security card. All I had to do was follow the rules, and I just broke them. That means I can no longer stay in the program.”
“Jesus, why didn't you tell me?” Sam said.
“I wanted to. I couldn't. I owe my life and my dog's life to those people who cared enough to help us. I'll have to leave now and find my own way. I can't put any of them in harm's way. Once you break the rules, you're out of the program. That's the first thing that's drummed into your head.”
“I'll never tell anyone. I told you. You can trust me. I'll never breathe a word of this to another soul. No one ever needs to know you told me,” Sam pleaded.
Helen started to cry. “I'll know. We do mandatory on-line counseling. I've been doing it since the day I moved here. Something is wrong, though. I can't get through to my counselor on the net. I've sent dozens of e-mails, and she isn't responding. If they were cutting me loose, I think I would have been notified. I have a bad feeling and don't know what to do. It's with me every minute of the day. I'm thinking my husband somehow found me, or he's getting close. He will find me, it's just a matter of time. Why haven't you asked me why I didn't leave?”
“Because I know why. You were afraid, you had nowhere to go, and that bastard said he would kill you if you left.”
“How . . . how did you know?”
“When I was studying for my doctorate, I volunteered in a crisis center. I saw and heard it all.”
“I used to pray he would have a car accident. I prayed for him to die. I hate myself for that, but it helped me to think like that. In my own way I was just as sick as he was. I got help. He didn't. I can't stay here now.”
“Oh, yes you can. You aren't going anywhere, Helen. You know what, you were never a Nancy. I never did think that name fit you. Nine-A,” he snorted. “That doesn't even bear discussing.”
“We were the ninth guests the month of December at the shelter. We went by a number until our credentials came through. I was Number Nine and she was Nine-A. I slipped so many times and called her by name. You heard me, but you pretended you didn't. If you had brought this to a head a while back, I would have cut and run in the middle of the night.”
“And now?” Sam held his breath waiting for her response.
“I don't know, Sam, I just don't know. I guess I have to stay put until I can reach Boots. She's my on-line counselor.”
“And then?”
“Then I guess I'm on my own. They'll take away the credentials, tell me to leave. I'll have to give back the money they lent me.”
“You could marry me. You'd have a new name. I have enough money in the bank for a down payment on a little house somewhere. You can get a new identity as my wife.”
“Sam, that is so nice of you, but I can't marry you. I'm not divorced. You see, my . . . husband is one of those computer wizards, among other things. Divorces are a matter of public record. He'd find out some way, somehow. It was better to simply disappear and let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Who's next in command after Boots? Can't you go to that person?”
“I don't know who that person is. Besides, questions were taboo. The rules say I have to wait for someone from the Isabel Tyger Foundation to contact me. That's the procedure. I betrayed the very people who helped me. It's unacceptable.”
“Will you relax? I am not going to tell anyone. I am not going to put any moves on you. I am not going to call you Helen in public, and I am not going to refer to your dog as Lucie. Read my lips, Helen; no one knows you said a word but the two of us. You are still safe. Nothing has really changed. Why don't you check your e-mail and see if Boots has contacted you today?”
“I did check it, right before you came over. I'll go on-line at eleven since that's my scheduled time. I log on and then log off. When you came in you were excited. What happened?”
“Your web page is finished. Les called me and wanted me to tell you. I brought wine to celebrate.”
“Oh.”
“That's it, oh!”
“I didn't mean it like that. I can't get excited since I don't know what's going to happen to me. How am I going to operate an on-line business if I'm on the run? It was a good idea, but now I don't think it's going to work. With the situation the way it is, I can't make a commitment to a new business.”
“Why don't you check it out just for the hell of it? You might even have some orders since the site has been up and running for a few hours. Personally, I can't wait to see it.”
Helen turned on the computer. “Did Les give you the address?”
“Yep. It is
www.sassielassie.com
.
All lowercase. Les said as he added some music for effect.”
“Oh my God!” Helen squealed. “Look at that!”
“I'm lookin', I'm lookin'.” Sam grinned. “What does . . . ah . . . that little number with the feathers go for?”
“Seventy-five bucks,” Helen said. “A lot of stitches go into it. Feathers are hard to attach.”
“Uh-huh. Do you have any . . . ah . . . samples?”
“A whole box. It comes in white, black, and red,” Helen said, scrolling down the screen with her mouse. “This is really fantastic. Les did a wonderful job. The music is . . . sensational. Don't they play that kind of music in strip joints?”
“You're asking me? You know what they say about accountants and professors who teach the subject. Remember the lady with the galoshes? We are supposedly the most boring people on earth. My answer is, I don't know.”
“All those feathers! All those fluffy clouds. I guess this is the ethereal page. The stuff really looks demure, chaste, kind of virginal,” Helen said thoughtfully.
“Helen, there is nothing demure about a garter belt trimmed in lace. Fishnet stockings are not virginal even if they're white. Ask any man. What's with those
strappy,
spike-heeled shoes? I didn't know you sold shoes, too!”
“I don't. I don't sell stockings either. We just put them in for effect. Then again, it might pay me to buy some accessories. Tell me something, Sam. If you clicked onto this web page, and if you were married or had a serious girlfriend, would you be tempted to order something?”
Sam sat back in his chair and leered at Helen. “I would order one of everything! Didn't you tell me you were going to show me a sample? Let's see the real thing.”
Helen got up to rummage through the boxes in the living room. For the moment she forgot about her personal troubles in her excitement. “What color?”
“Back,” Sam shot back.
Helen stood up, her right hand twirling the filmy garment in the air. A feather worked loose and sailed upward. Both dogs watched it curiously but no more curiously than their owners.
“Oh yes, I could see that being a best-seller,” Sam drawled. “How about modeling it for me?”
“I don't think so. I'm not . . . what I mean is . . . I don't wear this kind of stuff. I just plan on selling it. Maybe some other time.”
“I'd like to make love to you,” Sam blurted.
Helen licked at her dry lips. “It's been . . . I don't know if . . .”
“It's like riding a bike. It all comes back to you. Trust me,” Sam said breathlessly.
“The dogs?”
“They stay out here, we go in there. We close the door. Simple, eh?”
Before she could say yes or no, Sam swept her into his arms and was carrying her into the bedroom. He kicked the door shut with his foot.
BOOK: What You Wish For
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