Tara Quinn - A Child's Wish

And then with more confidence, she said, “Susan never learned how to interact with kids.”

Yes, it was okay to say that. “She wants to be Kelsey’s friend but she has no inner direction, nothing instinctual, not even a memory to draw on to tell her how to be a friend to someone that age. Which makes her feel awkward and insecure, and so she forces things. Kids can tell when people aren’t being natural with them and they respond with a defensiveness that’s mostly unconscious.”

That was how it felt. Pretty much.

Mark thought for a minute, hands rubbing slowly against each other. They were nice hands. Big. Dependable-looking. Meredith had seen them gently wipe away tears, tenderly hold shoulders, sign papers and applaud success.

“I understand,” he said at last. “But I still have no idea what to do about it.”

“I’m not sure, either,” she said. “Except to keep doing what you’re doing. The more they’re around each other, the more Kelsey’s going to be able to see that Susan’s a good person and perhaps start to trust her a bit. And the more Susan will learn what a nine-year-old kid’s about and start to relax, which will help Kelsey trust her.”

And…

No. Meredith refused to acknowledge her inner “awareness.” So what if she’d been shown a picture, a flash only, of her and Kelsey together. Then together again somewhere else. That didn’t mean it was real. Or even if it was, that she had to take heed of it.

And…

“And I think that it might help if, instead of always calling teenagers to sit with her—girls who are trustworthy and will keep her safe, mind you, but kids who don’t really see Kelsey as anything more than a chance to earn a few extra bucks—you call me. Or let me take her to my place for a night. That way she won’t feel like a castoff.”

Her life’s purpose was to help kids. She knew that. Any kids. Anywhere. Any way she could. It wasn’t so much a choice as a conviction that she wouldn’t be happy any other way. Helping kids completed her.

“I can’t ask you to do that. You have a life.”

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering. And it’s up to me how I spend my life.”

“Why would you give up your weekend for me? I’m not even that nice to you.”

“You’re not un-nice to me.” She should have left the television on. Of course, that would be out in the kitchen, which wouldn’t offer much distraction in here. “Besides, I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Kelsey and Susan.”

He nodded. And relaxed. And when she realized she knew that, her own tension grew. She didn’t want to know any more about him than anyone else knew. Especially when all she experienced were random feelings without explanation and minus a name tag so she couldn’t even be sure of the source. But someone in this room had just relaxed, and it wasn’t her.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. “Thank you.”

Time to go. Meredith grabbed her bag as she stood, moving as quickly as she could for the door without looking as if she was running. He was right beside her, reaching for the doorknob—and not opening it.

Meredith didn’t like the way his tired, yet…something…look made her feel. All edgy and, oh, maybe…she didn’t know what. Just more. Was it him? Her? Both?

“In all the months I’ve been seeing Susan, I’ve never once heard of you out on a date,” he said.

“So?”

“I’m surprised. You’re a beautiful woman….”

And thirty-one. Her clock was ticking—slowly, granted, but still ticking.

Yet, if he thought she was beautiful…

“Thanks.”

She moved toward the door. It didn’t open. His hand was solidly on the handle. Hell, it was solid, period. Reassuring. Capable. She’d never thought much about men’s hands before.

“Why don’t you?”

Meredith’s first priority was to get out of there. She needed space. Peace.

“I find that my life’s happier that way.”

“Are you gay?”

In today’s world it was a reasonable question. “Does it matter?”

“No!” He stepped back. “Of course not.” And then… “Are you?”

She debated her answer. If she’d been gay, this intense awareness of him would never be an issue; never be discovered or even suspected.

“No, unfortunately, I’m not,” she said.

“Unfortunately?”

Yeah, she’d stepped right into that one.

Meredith shrugged, catching her hair in the strap of her bag. As she reached up to pull it out and slid her hand into the beaded back pocket of her jeans, she decided to tell him. Maybe then she could escape and go home. Where she was safe.

“It would’ve saved me a lot of heartache.”

“How so?”

“I was engaged.” It wasn’t something she talked about. And out of respect for her, Susan wouldn’t have told Mark, either. “Frank was kind and smart, witty, good-looking. Motivated. He got along well with his family. And with my mother. I trusted him.”

She stopped, her chest tightening as she fought the memories.

“He had an affair,” Mark said softly, his eyes darkening. “What an idiot.” He leaned back against the door.

“No, he didn’t,” Meredith said. “I wish he had. It would’ve been a lot easier to deal with, because that would have been his problem, his weakness and not mine.”

“So what happened?” Mark folded his arms across chest.

Solid chest. Strong. Reliable. Firm.

“He didn’t show up at the wedding.” A woman’s worst nightmare. Or at least hers. And it had come true.

Sometimes she still couldn’t believe it had really happened. Surely that whole part of her life had merely been one of those nightmares that seemed so real you had a hard time distinguishing fact from fiction.

“The church was full. My mother had spent far too many thousands of dollars on flowers and food and photography and a band and invitations. I was there in my dress, my friends all around me in theirs…”

“Damn!”

Mmm-hmm.

“I waited not one hour but two,” she said with a twisted grin. As soon as she could actually laugh when she told this story, it would no longer have the power to hurt her. Maybe three lifetimes from now.

Which was why she never told anyone. Susan knew, but then she’d been the woman in the soft purple maid-of-honor gown, holding Meredith up as she walked sobbing from the church.

People who’d known her then knew. They’d all been there. Witnesses.

“Did you ever find out why?” Mark didn’t touch her, but she thought he wanted to. Or maybe it was just that she wanted him to. Wanted a man to find her worth the effort.

She nodded, and stood with her chin held high. “There was a letter for me taped to the front door of our apartment. He’d moved all his stuff out while I was at the church waiting—”

“Cold bastard!”

Meredith smiled a little at the interruption, nodding. She never should have started this, and now she was having to force herself to breathe.

“What did it say?”

“That as much as he loved me, he couldn’t handle a lifetime of living with me. I’m too much.”

“What does that mean?”

“You need to ask?” she said, staring up at him. “You’re right there with him, Mark. I’m too intense. I feel too much. And when I experience certain sensations, I act. Even if the situation is one I should probably walk away from. But you know what?” She was feeling a little better. “I’m never going to walk away, not from any of it. I can’t. I am what I am. I’m intense, just as my fiancé said. I feel everything around me, and I’m glad about that. I can’t imagine life without the depth, without the magic that accompanies the pain.” She was on a roll. Perhaps she should do this more often. She could stand on street corners and tell everyone her story.