What You Wish For

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Authors: Fern Michaels
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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.
    â€œThis 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.

    â€œArtie, when are the computers going to be up and running?” Isabel grumbled.
    â€œI’ve had my people on it round the clock, Izz. It’s not as simple as you think it is. Three more days, tops. My people are going to help your people do all the inputting. You need to relax.”
    â€œI’m not going to relax until I know Helen Ward is on-line. I want to show you something. She left a gift for me. At first I was angry. I was one step away from tossing her out on her ear until I thought about it. Tell me what you think, gentlemen.”
    â€œShe’s a hell of an artist,” Artie said.
    â€œShe got my good side. Made you look good , Izzie,” Gerry drawled.
    â€œWhat else?” Isabel demanded.
    â€œWhat else what? The dog is a perfect likeness. It’s kind of sad now that I look at it,” Gerry said.
    â€œMen! The name. Look at the name!”
    â€œSo. It’s her name, Izz,” Artie said.
    â€œNot anymore it isn’t. She’s Nancy Baker now. She’s supposed to think, act, and become Nancy Baker. This is what she does.”
    â€œJesus, Izzie, don’t you understand what she was doing? She had to leave something behind, something that said who she was. She may never become Helen Marie Stanley again. Leaving that picture behind means maybe there’s hope that someday she can be Helen again. That hope and her dog are all she has. Hell, even a dog marks his territory. Cats too. Listen, I know I couldn’t give up my life, my identity. I just couldn’t. I came into this life Gerald Davis and I plan on going out with the same name. I imagine Helen more or less feels the same way. What’s going on is for now . In

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