Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5)

Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5) Page 28

“Yes, Mrs. Beaumont. There are actually only two basic stitches. The first is called the knit stitch and the second is a purl stitch.”

“Okay,” Ellen said again, nodding sagely.

“So far, I just know how to do the knit stitch. I’ll learn how to purl in the first class.”

“You haven’t taken a real class yet?”

“No. I’m signed up, though.”

“Oh.”

“In other words, Ellen, I don’t know all that much, but I’m willing to show you what I can do. If you like it, I’ll take you to the yarn shop and let you pick out your own needles and yarn.”

“Really?” Ellen was beside herself with excitement. “Really? Really?”

“Yes, really,” Anne Marie responded, smiling.

For the next forty minutes, the television show was forgotten as Anne Marie showed Ellen what Elise had taught her that day. Ellen didn’t catch on as easily as Anne Marie, but she was, after all, only eight.

Anne Marie was pleased with the child’s determination to learn. Before the evening was over, Ellen was every bit as proficient as Anne Marie.

“I want to knit something for Grandma Dolores,” Ellen stated. “Something pretty.”

“What about a scarf?” Anne Marie suggested. She’d seen several exquisite ones at the shop. Elise had explained that these elaborate scarves had been knit using only the basic stitch she’d taught Anne Marie that very day.

“For her to wear to church,” Ellen continued excitedly. “I’ll give it to her when she comes home from the hospital.”

“That’s a very good idea.”

Ellen finished the row and was about to start another when Anne Marie noticed the time. The evening had simply slipped away. It used to be that the hours she spent in the apartment moved so slowly she seemed aware of every passing minute.

“It’s nine o’clock,” Anne Marie said. “You should’ve been in bed half an hour ago.”

“Is it nine already?” Ellen protested, but she couldn’t hold back a yawn.

“I’m afraid so. We’ll knit again tomorrow night,” Anne Marie promised.

Ellen set down the needles and yarn and stumbled toward her room, yawning every step of the way.

“Call me when you’re ready for your prayers, sleepyhead.”

“Oh…kay.”

A few minutes later, Ellen called out that she was ready. They followed the same routine as when Ellen lived with her grandmother, which meant that Anne Marie listened to the girl’s prayers. She’d been saying them aloud for the last while.

Kneeling by the sofa bed, Anne Marie propped her elbows on the mattress, closed her eyes and bowed her head. Ellen’s prayers didn’t vary much. First, she asked God to help her grandmother get better. Then she asked Him to bless a number of people, Anne Marie and Baxter included, with lengthy descriptions of each. Finally, she gave thanks for the day’s small triumphs. At the end of the seemingly interminable list, she said “Amen.”

“Amen,” Anne Marie echoed. “Good night, Ellen.” She drew the covers more firmly around her and was about to get up when Ellen threw both arms around Anne Marie’s neck and hugged her tightly. “Thank you for teaching me to knit.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, hugging her back. Getting to her feet, she turned out the light, then tiptoed out of the room. As was her habit, she left the door slightly ajar.

It wasn’t until Anne Marie had stepped into the hallway that she realized something—this was the first time Ellen had actually hugged her. The night Anne Marie had gone to Dolores Falk’s home, Ellen had fallen weeping into her arms, but that wasn’t a real hug. Not like the one she’d just received.

Anne Marie stood right where she was and savored the moment. She felt loved and needed in a way she never had before.

It was like the return of warmth after the coldest winter of her life.

Chapter 18

“You came!” Tessa Bassett said with unrestrained glee when Barbie stepped forward to purchase her movie ticket. The teenager’s face was flushed with excitement, and she leaned forward, lowering her voice. “He’s here.”

“Mark?” Barbie could hardly believe it. She hadn’t expected this, but it shouldn’t surprise her. Mark was definitely intrigued, even if he resisted her. Despite his hostility he hadn’t really wanted to scare her off. Or maybe he was testing her interest. At any rate, Barbie saw the first substantial crack in that impervious exterior of his.

Mark was back. For that matter, so was she.

“He said he wasn’t going to ever come on a Monday again—but now he has. I wanted to call you but I didn’t know your last name, so I couldn’t. I just hoped you’d be back and you are.” This was all said in one breath. While she was speaking, Tessa slipped her the movie ticket and held out her hand for the money.

“What movie am I seeing?”

“A horror flick.”

“Oh…”

“You don’t like horror movies?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh.” Tessa’s face fell. “Do you want to see something else? You don’t, do you? Because I think my uncle Mark likes you. Only he’s afraid ’cause, after the accident, his wife divorced him and he’s never heard from her again. You’re the first woman he’s even noticed since then.”

Barbie stared at her, appalled. This ex-wife of his sounded like a shallow, selfish woman. Whatever happened to “for better, for worse”? Marriage vows didn’t become null and void if one of the partners got sick or hurt. She knew without a second’s hesitation that she and Gary would have stuck by each other, regardless of circumstances.

She sighed. “I suppose I could watch a horror movie,” she said. “How bloody is it?”

Tessa grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “Real bloody.”

“Are there dismembered body parts?” That was the worst, in Barbie’s opinion.

Tessa nodded reluctantly. “But he came back! That’s big.”

Undecided, Barbie chewed on her lower lip. Tessa was right; neither of them had expected Mark to return. Barbie wasn’t sure why she’d come—force of habit? Hope?

“Just go,” Tessa urged. “Don’t look at the screen. Close your eyes and plug your ears. That’s what I do.”

Other than the thought of having to watch the dispersing of gore and guts, choreographed to loud, pounding music, Barbie couldn’t have said what was stopping her. So the movie wasn’t exactly her choice. So what? She’d be with Mark and wasn’t that the whole point of being here?

“Okay,” she said with a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

“Terrific!”

She just prayed she wouldn’t have nightmares for the rest of her life.

“Let me know what happens, okay? With Uncle Mark, I mean.” Tessa said. “My parents and my grandmother want to know, too.”

“Okay.” That meant the whole family was in on this, which was encouraging.

Barbie took her time, waiting until the last possible minute before slipping into the darkened theater. She purchased her popcorn and soda and lingered in the lobby until the show was about to start.

When she walked into the theater, the previews had already begun. She made her way to the row where Mark had parked his wheelchair, the same as usual. As she had previously, she sat one seat away from him.

He turned and stared at her in feigned surprise. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

She could act as well as he could. “Oh, hello,” she said brightly. “Is that you again?”

For a moment she suspected the hint of a smile. She turned back to the screen just in time to see an ax-murderer heave his weapon of death into a wall next to a trembling woman’s head. Unable to stop herself, she gasped aloud and nearly dropped her popcorn.

“Frightens you, does it?” Mark asked in a far too satisfied tone. “Might I remind you these are only the previews.”

“Yikes.” She gritted her teeth.

Mark laughed, causing a woman behind him to make a shushing sound. “Yikes,” he repeated, lowering his voice. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Might I remind you I have sons.”

“And you’re a lady, right?” He spoke as if he intended that to be an insult.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said stiffly. “I know all the words you do. I merely choose not to say them.”

“I doubt it,” he muttered, then settled back in his wheelchair to watch the movie, which was just getting started.

He gave every appearance of enjoying it, but as far as Barbie was concerned, this was torture. She’d always avoided being around when her sons watched horror DVDs with the bloodthirsty gusto of teenage boys. Now she squirmed in her seat, covered her face frequently and dashed out of the theater twice. It was even worse than she’d expected. Special effects being what they were, little was left to the imagination.

Barbie knew very well that Mark had planned this. He’d guessed—and guessed right—that she’d hate a movie like The Axman Cometh and had intentionally subjected her to an hour and a half of disgusting violence. The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. And yet, she was determined to prove she could take it. Even if she couldn’t.

After her second escape, when she’d hurried into the foyer to avoid watching another horrific scene, Mark leaned toward her and asked, “Are you going to finish that popcorn?”

“How can you possibly eat?” she snapped.

His grin seemed boyish as he reached for her bag and helped himself to a huge handful. Oh, yes, she thought grimly, he was enjoying her discomfort.

The movie wasn’t actually all that long but it seemed to drag on for hours and hours and hours. The music, the tension, the blood, the stupidity was simply too much. By the time the movie ended, Barbie felt drained. The lights came up and the twenty or so viewers filed out of the theater. Mark stayed put and so did Barbie.

Finally she turned to him. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” he asked innocently.

Barbie wasn’t fooled. She also decided that if this was a test, she’d failed. He knew she wanted to be with him, and because of that she’d endure this…this torture. She began to wonder if Tessa and her family had it all wrong. Maybe Mark wasn’t attracted to her. Maybe he was just trying to punish her. Barbie began to mistrust her own intuition, her certainty that he reciprocated her interest. If he meant to signal that he didn’t want her to bother him again, perhaps she should listen.

Fine. She would.

Barbie stood and, without another word, walked out of the theater.

Tessa, who’d been busy both times she’d fled into the lobby, was waiting for her.

“Well?” the girl asked anxiously.

“I don’t care if I ever see your uncle again,” Barbie said flatly.

Tessa’s mouth fell open.

“What?”