Read Online Wish on the Moon by Karen Rose Smith - Free Book Online Page B

since
he'd known joy rather than responsibility? Responsibility for a
father who could care less about his younger son, responsibility
for his mother so she didn't have to work so hard, responsibility
for Carey who thought trouble was something to embrace rather than
avoid.
    When he'd met Denise, Mitch thought it was
time for a stable relationship. And that's just what it had
been--stable. Until Denise decided she wanted to get her doctorate.
Their break-up hadn't been painless, but it hadn't been...heart
wrenching either. Had they both been too removed, adult, practical?
Had there been joy?
    Laura stepped away from Mitch, away from the
shadows of a tall maple, into the moon's full light. "Do you ever
wish on the moon?"
    Her profile was perfect. It tugged at him as
much as the fancy of her question. "I thought people wished on
stars."
    "The moon's bigger, closer, more
touchable."
    "That's not very scientific."
    "Neither is wishing. But it works."
    "You've studied this phenomenon, of
course."
    She glanced at him, her smile small and
mysterious. "Of course. Wishes are like pictures you draw in your
mind. They're always there whether you know it or not, just waiting
to come to life. When you picture something, you can make it
happen."
    He regarded her, captivated by her philosophy
and the little girl in her that often appeared. "So what are you
wishing tonight, or can't you tell me?"
    "Sure, I can tell you. Then you can wish it,
too. Two wishes are more powerful than one." She stared up at the
moon with enough intensity to brand her wish there permanently. "I
wish Dad back on his feet, healthier than before."
    "I'll second that."
    She faced him with a mischievous grin. "See
how easy it is? Even for skeptics."
    "My life hasn't been what I wished. I have
reason to be skeptical." He remembered the night when reality had
taken over. He'd been five. If he hadn't overheard the argument, if
he could have gone on pretending his father loved him...
    "Maybe you just stopped wishing."
    Sometimes she was damn clairvoyant. "Maybe."
Unbidden, a vivid wish came to mind--his arms surrounding Laura,
her legs entangled with his. If Laura's theory was right... "We'd
better start back or Mandy will fall asleep again before we get
home."
    Laura gave him a measured look then rubbed
her arms under the wide poncho sleeves as she resumed walking.
"Winter's trying to break through. I told George and Anne I'd call
tonight. I'll have to ask them to send warmer clothes for us."
    Mitch matched his pace to hers. "By the time
you leave, there will probably be snow on the ground. You'd better
tell them to send boots."
    She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "And
gloves. They'll have to go through all my drawers to find them,"
she muttered.
    "That doesn't bother you?" Privacy was all
important to him.
    "No. They're my family. They accept who and
what I am and would never invade my space to hurt me. I thought you
understood that they're like brother and sister to me."
    "I understand that. It's just..."
    She tilted her face up. "What?"
    "Carey went through my belongings without
regard to my privacy when we were growing up. He knew it bothered
me, so he did it as often as possible." He had never shared that
with anyone.
    "Kids are like that."
    "He was older and should have known better.
But he never did care much what others thought."
    "You sound bitter."
    If she had been judgmental or critical, he
would have shut up. But her acceptance led him to ask, "Do I? I
thought I'd left my childhood behind. It pops up when I least
expect it."
    "You and your brother don't get along?"
    "It's not a matter of getting along." He knew
he was being curt, but to keep the past in the past he had to
dismiss it rather than think or talk about it.
    After a short silence, Laura asked, "What do
you do to relax?"
    "Relax?"
    "Yeah. You know, when you wear jeans and do
something that makes you forget everything else. You do own a pair
of jeans, don't you?" The question definitely held