The Wish. Diane Pershing

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СКАЧАТЬ the one time they’d danced. She’d practically worn a sign on her saying Kick Me.

      The coup de grace had been in the ladies’ room, to which she’d escaped in an attempt to force her flyaway hair back into its bun. While fussing at the mirror, despair fighting tooth and nail with an inner pep talk, she’d overheard a couple of other guests talking about her from their individual stalls.

      The gist of the unflattering and mean-spirited remarks, after they’d done tearing apart her hair, her face, her dress, her body, was that the only qualities she had to recommend her were her sense of humor, her brains, and her ownership of a bookstore. It might be better, they suggested, if she stopped trying to do anything or be anyone else, such as an appropriate date for Rance, the town’s most eligible bachelor.

      Choking down a sob, she’d run from the bathroom, tripping over her dress as she did, all the voices of a lifetime echoing in her head: Outsider. Different. Brainiac. Plain. Clumsy.

      In grade school, she’d been given the nickname of “The Giraffe,” because she’d early on developed long, skinny legs with knobby knees and a long, skinny neck—minus the knobs—to match, none of which had changed as she matured. “Giraffe” had morphed into Gerri as she got older, which was a lot better than her given name, Phoebe Minerva, so it had stuck.

      But the self-image had stuck, too.

      There were other social disadvantages beside physical ones. Her brains put her way ahead of others her age, so she’d skipped a couple of grades and was always younger than her classmates. She didn’t develop breasts, for heaven’s sake, until she was a senior in high school. Along the way, there had been the occasional date, the rare brave boy willing to take a chance on a girl who was taller and most probably a lot smarter than he was. But socializing with the opposite sex was always excruciatingly uncomfortable, with Gerri trying too hard to relax and the boy trying too hard to impress.

      The only one who’d gotten through had been Tommy Mosher, in college. But that too had turned out badly. Very badly. Nearly ten years later, his treachery still hurt, still informed her daily life. Men did not fall for her. Men did not find her attractive. The only thing they might want from her was her brainpower and what it could do for them.

      But she still had normal female urges, and even with her history, a kernel of hope remained. Maybe, she’d dreamed over the years since college, maybe one day she would encounter a worthy man who would love her.

      She’d had a crush on Rance, a regular customer in her bookshop, for months, so when, earlier that day, he’d asked her to go to a formal event with him, something inside her had screamed, “Here’s your chance!” Finally she would erase the past. She would do it right this time. She would feel and act like a princess, gliding easily and gracefully through the evening.

      Fool, she called herself now. People didn’t change. Sure, the prince had asked her to the ball, but she was no Cinderella, with a fairy godmother who provided magic that would make her blossom and bring her inner beauty to the surface.

      Inner beauty? Hah.

      “Gerri?”

      Des was still waiting for the answer to his question about why Rance wasn’t seeing her home. She glanced sideways as they rushed along, his long legs having no trouble keeping up easily with her hurried pace. The expression on his face, which was arresting rather than handsome, with its deep, attractive grooves from spending days on horseback, was stormy. Oh, no, she wondered. Was he angry at her for canceling their date tonight, so she could go to the affair with Rance?

      But it hadn’t been a real date. Not between her and Des. They were friends, that was all, just a bite to eat together was all it was to be. So why would he be hurt? Still, she couldn’t avoid noticing the fact that his expression was fierce and combative now, erasing the genuine concern of moments earlier.

      It was confusing. The whole evening was confusing. If only she could do it over.

      “Why isn’t Rance here with you?” he persisted.

      “He doesn’t even know I’m gone. You don’t have to walk with me, you know,” she told him, her voice breaking again. “I just want to go home.”

      “How will you get there?”

      That stopped her in her tracks, while other pedestrians on the neon-lit downtown Reno street hurried past them. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She lived a couple of miles out of town, at the end of a long country road, and didn’t have her car with her. “I’ll get a taxi.”

      “I’m taking you.”

      She could have argued, but didn’t have the strength. Besides, she was grateful that the problem was solved. Her stupid heels, and her ankle, were killing her.

      In Des’s pickup truck, after she’d given him directions to her place, Gerri stared out the window at the black night. As soon as you got outside of Reno proper, you could see all the stars that the casino lights obscured. The vast darkness was soothing, somehow, with its tiny, mysterious pinpricks of light, and had the effect of calming her down.

      They drove in silence for a while, the only sound the shifting of gears. Eventually Des spoke. “Should I ask how it went?”

      She snorted a quick laugh. “Probably not a good idea.”

      “It’s okay,” he said, nodding, “it’s none of my business.”

      “It’s not that,” she hastily assured him. “But let’s just say tonight was not one of my most rewarding life experiences. I’m lucky you showed up.”

      Why had he shown up? she wondered once again. How had he happened to be there, right outside the casino, at the very moment she was coming out? She supposed it had been some kind of coincidence, although she was not a great believer in coincidence.

      When she’d asked him about it earlier, he’d shrugged it off. Des was a pretty mysterious man in some ways, and the reason they got along so well was not only that they were both a little off-beat by nature, but also that each sensed in the other areas of privacy which were respected and not pried into.

      They’d met because Gerri had been boarding her horse at his ranch for the past half year or so. They’d gotten into the habit of conversing while she saddled Ruffy and when she came back from her ride. Sometimes Des even came out on the trail with her; they rode together easily, joked and chatted. Correction: She did most of the chatting, he the listening. But there was an ease between them that Gerri—given her dismal history with men—appreciated deeply.

      She’d never had a friendship with a man and, although their relationship didn’t extend past these morning rides, she didn’t want to spoil it. In truth, she’d been surprised that he seemed to enjoy being with her.

      After all, Des was a looker, no doubt about it; in town, she’d run into him at the grocery store a few times and she’d seen many a female pause in her tracks when they saw him. She didn’t know exactly why he’d chosen her to be friends with, but it was probably because she wasn’t after him and therefore wasn’t a threat to his single existence. By now, she’d gotten beyond his rugged, decidedly masculine looks and just plain liked the man. If she wanted to know more about him and what made him tick, well, maybe in time he’d trust her enough to open up.

      He pulled up in front of her pretty little house, a narrow two-story Victorian, which would have been more appropriate placed on a San Francisco street than up СКАЧАТЬ