Authors: Fern Michaels
What You Wish For (5 page)
“Izzie.”
“All right, Gerry, all right. I'm so lucky to have friends like you two. Sometimes I wish I had children. Helen is young enough to be my granddaughter. What do I have? I have a network of people who resemble superspies, thousands of women in fear of their lives, a dead-ass toy company, two friends, a big old house that is like a barn, and too damn much money.”
“Cut her off, Gerry. No more liquor for you, my friend. Let's eat.”
Later, over coffee, Isabel said quietly, “I'm going to be Helen's counselor when the time is right. I can help that young woman. I know I can.”
“You're breaking your own rule,” Gerry said briskly. “Everything works now because you go by the rules. Break those rules, and you're headed for trouble. Tell her, Artie.”
“He's right, Izz, but you aren't going to listen, are you?”
Isabel squared her plump shoulders until the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose started to jiggle. “You two fine men know squat when it comes to women. I'm not even sure you know anything about men. I've been doing this for forty years. Give me some credit, please. If I run into problems, you'll be the first ones I call. By the way, what are my shares of ComStar worth today?”
“One-seventy a share. With all the splits, how many shares do you have, Izz?”
“Five hundred thousand. You're making me richer by the day.”
“Without you there would be no ComStar,” Artie said. “I'm forever grateful to you for believing in me and helping me get started.”
“Me, too, Izzie. I'm not in either of your leagues, but you helped me set up my practice; you take care of all those animals no one wants. Most important, you're a good and loyal friend.”
Isabel flushed. She was never comfortable on the receiving end of a compliment. “Well, boys, this old girl wants to go home. It's been a long day. How about brunch at my house on Sunday.”
“I'm your man,” Artie said.
“I'll be there,” Gerry said.
Isabel clapped her hands. “Good. I just love it when you two agree with me.”
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Helen poked her head into the office. “Is there anything I can do, Mona? I'm not used to sitting around. I would like to make myself useful.”
“You could pick some flowers for the dinner table. It's early, but you could set the table if you like. Other than that, we're running on schedule. Tomorrow will be different. Ardeth will be gone, and you can step into her chores. Some new magazines arrived today. They're on the coffee table in the living room.”
Helen nodded as she headed for the kitchen, Lucie trotting alongside. “I almost forgot the magazine Billie gave me this morning. We'll do what Mona said, and then I'll check it out. Daniel used to read that magazine from cover to cover. There must be something in there she wants me to see.”
“Do we eat in the kitchen or dining room?” she asked the girls in the kitchen.
“Dining room. Dishes are on the sideboard and silver is in the top drawer. Napkins in the drawer underneath. There's a vase for flowers on the bottom.”
Helen smiled. “How did you know?”
“Routine. All the new guests start out this way.”
Thirty minutes later, Helen headed for her room, Lucie in her arms. She found the magazine and flipped it open to scan the contents. What was it Billie wanted her to see? The Silicon Top 100? Daniel's dream of being named to the 100? Quickly she scanned the list. She wasn't sure if she was happy or fearful when she didn't see his name on the list. Ted Wexler's name was the third from the top, though, and Daniel hated Ted Wexler with a passion. Ted was a team player, and Daniel wasn't, something she thought Arthur King worried about. Daniel was a glory hound who knew his business, but Arthur was a family man.
“I would imagine Daniel is about ready to go up in smoke if he has read this article, Lucie. However, it isn't our problem any longer.” She flipped to the back page and a column headed “This just in ...”
Theodore Wexler of ComStar Industries was named COO by Arthur King, CEO. The industry expressed surprise, because rumor had the title and the job going to Daniel Ward. Neither man could be reached for comment as we went to press.
Helen dropped the glossy magazine in the wastebasket next to the bed. “I just bet, Lucie, there are a lot of holes in the walls of the house we used to live in. That isn't our problem anymore either. Someday, Lucie, you and I are going to be fat, happy, and sassy. We'll take our new world by the tail and give it a wild swing. We're on the way, thanks to some very wonderful people. You know what I just realized? We missed Christmas! We aren't going to worry about that now either. Our next Christmas is going to be wonderful. I'm going to make cookies. We're going to have a real tree with pine needles all over the place and a centerpiece that smells heavenly. I'll make you a stocking and fill it with treats and we'll sing âJingle Bells' until we're hoarse. You can bark all you want. That's a promise, Lucie. I never break a promise. A little nap now might be nice. Just you and me in this big old bed.
“Just you and me, Lucie.”
5
Helen looked around the room that had been hers for two long months. She'd cleaned it from top to bottom, changing the sheets, even washing the windows. It was now ready to give solace and comfort to the next guest. Earlier she'd carried her bags downstairs in preparation for leaving. She took a careful look around to make sure she'd left nothing behind. Her sketch pad was under her arm, her shoulder bag under the other arm. The room was as clean, as bright and pretty as it was two months ago when she first arrived.
She knew she was postponing the inevitable moment when she had to descend the stairs for the last time. She was safe here. Lucie was safe. Now she was going into uncharted waters, to a place she didn't know, a place that wouldn't be revealed to her until the moment she stepped into the dark blue van. Hot tears pricked her eyelids. Lucie whimpered at her feet.
In many respects the previous two months had been the happiest of her life. She'd learned how to speak her mind, to talk openly of her abuse, to show her scars and the few deep bruises that remained. She'd learned to trust, to put that trust in other women's hands. As Mona said last night, she was fit as fiddle health-wise. She now knew a smattering of martial arts and felt like she could hold her own should she ever need to take defensive action. She could shoot like a pro at the rifle range in the basement. As Mona put it, “We're evening the odds should you ever find yourself in a tricky situation.” Just knowing these things, she'd said, builds confidence. Her head was clear, her dog was as fit as she was. Helen even had a new name now, Nancy Baker, a driver's license, a credit card, and a bank account. She knew they were forgeries and would never get by in a court of law. They were for now, to get her to a safe location at which point a second set of papers would be issuedâstill forgeries, but a better quality. Everything was
for now
.
for now
.
She wished there was something she could leave behind to show her gratitude, but she had nothing. Maybe she did have something after all. She dropped to her knees and spread out her sketch pad. She flipped through the pages until she came to the one where she'd sketched Gerald Davis and Billie. Just last night she'd added Lucie to the picture. She debated a moment before she signed her real name. The name she was born with. Helen Marie Stanley. It was all she had to give.
“Come on, Lucie, it's time to go. Just let me fasten the strap on this backpack and you get a free ride. Easy, girl, easy. Okay. Get comfortable.”
Downstairs, Mona was waiting at the side door. “The van is ready, Nancy.”
“Thanks for everything, Mona. Perhaps someday we'll meet again.”
Mona smiled. “I hope not.”
“Would you give this to Billie the next time you see her? I know I shouldn't have signed my name, but I did. It's who I am. I couldn't give a gift with someone else's name on it. She can tear it up or burn it. I just wanted . . . you know, to leave something behind. Something that says you helped Helen Marie Stanley. Stanley was the name I was born with. Good-bye, Mona.”
“Good-bye and good luck, Nancy. You too, big girl,” she said, patting Lucie's head. “You take care of this lady now, you hear? And I'll be sure to give this to, uh, Billie.”
Helen, her eyes burning, didn't look back as she walked down the hall and through the kitchen until she came to the garage door. The blue van with the dark, tinted windows waited silently for her to enter. She slid back the doors and climbed in. The garage door slid upward, the van backed out smoothly. The driver was someone Helen had never seen before. She would probably never see her again after that day either.
“What happens now?” she asked boldly.
“I'm going to drive you to the campus of the University of Santa Clara. There will be a car waiting for you. The registration and insurance card are in the glove compartment. The car is registered to Nancy Baker. There's a map on the front seat with your travel route all laid out for you, complete with stops and which motels you will be staying in. You will pay cash for your food and lodging. Keep your receipts.”
“Where is it I'm going?”
“New Jersey.”
“That's clear across the country! I've never been outside of California.”
“You were never in a woman's shelter before either. You'll be fine. Just follow the route that's mapped out. Drive no more than eight hours a day. Do not, I repeat, do not exceed the speed limit. Be ever mindful of your gas tank and have the oil checked several times en route. Get the car washed at least once along the way.”
“Where am I going in New Jersey?”
“To a town called Woodbridge. We secured a one-bedroom garden apartment for you. The rent is paid for three months. Across the road from the apartment complex is a large shopping mall called Woodbridge Center. You have a job in a lingerie shop called Fine Things. It's a high-end shop. You are to start work ten days from today. The utilities and the phone are in your new name. Pay these bills promptly when they come in. You will be banking at First Union, which is right down the road. Everything is very convenient. We want you to enroll at Middlesex College to take business courses at night. It's less than nine miles from your apartment. There's a packet in the car that will explain everything to you. When you reach your apartment, you'll find a computer all set up for you. You'll be notified through regular mail when the system will be operational.
“Once a month, between the first and the third, forty-three dollars will be automatically deducted from your account. While you don't have a bill per se, it is mandatory that you pay something back to the foundation for all the help that has been given you. You have health insurance for six months as well as dental with the foundation. That will cease when your new employer's insurance takes over.
“There is a veterinarian on Oak Tree Road in Edison where you can take your dog if need be. A file has been started for your animal. The vet's name is Dr. Lo. An appointment has been set up for your pet for the second day after your arrival. A map showing the location of the clinic will be in your packet. I think that just about covers everything. There's fifteen hundred dollars in your bank account, and there will be five hundred dollars in cash in the glove compartment of the car. If there's anything you want to ask me, ask now.”
There were a million things she wanted to ask. She stroked Lucie's head, and said, “No, I understand everything you said.”
“If for any reason you have car trouble, call Triple A. There's an emergency card attached to the insurance card. You can use the credit card to pay for repairs.”
“Where . . . how far is the grocery store?”
“Not far. You can go in any direction and you'll find one. Your kitchen cupboards and refrigerator and freezer have been stocked. There's also a supply of dog food, dog vitamins, and dog toys for your pet. Miss Tyger is very thorough.”
Helen closed her eyes. A new life. Everything taken care of. All she had to do was step into that life and she would become Nancy Baker. Would she ever be Helen Marie Stanley again? If she were to die tomorrow would the name Nancy Baker be on her tombstone? She almost blurted out the question. Instead she bit down on her tongue and squeezed Lucie closer to her chest.
“Have you ever been to New Jersey?” Helen asked.
“You can take the train from Metro Park to New York City. The station is close to where you will be living. I understand the trip is less than fifty minutes. No, I have never been to New York City either.”
Helen leaned forward, trying to see what the driver of the van looked like. The tinted shield between the back passenger seats and the front seats was as darkly tinted as the windows.
“Sit back please, you're obstructing my view,” the driver said.
“Are you a case or a volunteer?”
“Does it matter?” the driver asked.
“It matters to me when other people control my life and my every movement.”
“It didn't bother you before you came into the program. You were in harm's way then. Today, you are in the arms of angels who only want what is best for you. You can leave anytime you want.” The voice was suddenly cold and frosty.
“I didn't say I wanted to leave. Forget I said anything.”
“It's forgotten. Relax and enjoy the ride.” The voice gentled, and to Helen's ears she thought she detected a hint of tears. Nothing in the world was the way it seemed. Nothing.
For now
. She had to hold on to those two little words:
for now
.
For now
. She had to hold on to those two little words:
for now
.
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Five days later, Helen slowed the Volvo to a crawl as she approached Exit 11 on the New Jersey Turnpike. She paid the toll, asked for directions, turned north toward the Garden State Parkway, where she got off at Exit 131. From there she followed the signs to Route 27 and then to Route 1, where she almost missed the turnoff to the apartment complex. She heaved a sigh of relief when she drove around the parking lot and located the building she wanted.
She was home.
Five trips later, Helen slipped off the pet harness and lowered Lucie to the floor. A second later, leash in hand, they made their way down to the first floor and outdoors. Lucie sniffed, squatted, and was ready to go back inside.
Helen was happy to see the dead bolt and two other locks on both doors of the apartment, all of which she put into place immediately.
It was time to check out her new home. The first home she and she alone would be responsible for. The grungy efficiency she'd once lived in simply didn't count. Here, in these small quarters, she could do as she pleased, when she pleased. If she wanted to walk around in her underwear, she could. If she wanted to leave dishes in the sink, she could. She could leave the television on all night. She could play the radio all day. She could eat cereal for dinner if she wanted. She could leave the sheets on the bed for two weeks instead of changing them every day the way Daniel insisted.
There was no Daniel in her life telling her what she could or couldn't do. From this day forward she was responsible for her own life and Lucie's as well.
Life was going to be worth living after all.
“I have some wonderful ideas, Lucie,” Helen said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. Lucie jumped into her lap. “As soon as the computer is hooked up, I'm going to see about selling lingerie on-line. Pretty, sexy stuff. Mona encouraged me. I know the computer pretty well now. I just might make enough money so I can pay back all that's been given to us. I want to be independent. I don't want to be a taker anymore. We're going to give back, too, just as soon as we can turn a profit. Maybe I won't have to work at the store if shopping on-line becomes profitable. Daniel said it was the wave of the future. Maybe he was right. I did say we were going to check out our new digs, didn't I? Come on, girl, let's see what our new home looks like.
“We aren't going to get lost, that's for sure,” Helen said as she walked from the comfortable living room into the bedroom. “I like this. Plain and neat. No clutter. A few plants, and it will brighten right up. God, how I hated that four-thousand-square-foot house in California. It never felt like a home. There wasn't one thing in that entire house that said Helen Marie Stanley lived there. Those four thousand square feet shrieked that Daniel Ward lived there. I have to stop talking about him, and I have to stop thinking about him. We aren't to dwell on the past. Just the future.”
Helen bounced on the bed. “We are going to sleep well tonight, Lucie. Look, there's even a bed for you. And a basket of toys. I know you miss your mouse. I'll look for one as soon as we get settled. It won't be the same, but you'll adjust the way I'm adjusting.”
Helen looked around, certain a woman had decorated the apartment. The flowered spread and draperies matched the pale green carpet perfectly. White wicker was feminine and not just for sunporches any longer. Even the bathroom matched the bedroom, with thirsty green towels and ankle-deep throw rugs. The shower, tub, and vanity were spotless, the chrome gleaming. Underneath the vanity were paper products, enough to last months.
One picture hung in the bedroom. Puzzled that someone would hang a picture of a lone pine tree in a bedroom, Helen studied it to see if there was some hidden meaning. At the base of the dark trunk she could make out a name. Edna Mae Trolley. Helen bit down on her lower lip. Edna Mae Trolley, whoever she was, had probably done the same thing she'd done when she gave her sketch to Mona. “As long as one person knows you're alive and well, that's all that matters, Edna Mae Trolley. I will treasure this picture because it's obvious the pine tree has some deep meaning to you.
“This sofa is so comfortable, we can both sleep on it. Hop up, Lucie. We can eat in here off trays. I always wanted to do that. Now we can. Tonight we can sit here, watch television, and eat popcorn. God, this is so wonderful.” Lucie yipped her pleasure as Helen curled into the side of the wide sofa. Lucie wiggled and squirmed until she was next to her mistress. Moments later, both were asleep.
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