Wish on the Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

nothing had mattered but his work? She'd been a duty and
a responsibility he had to keep in line. At least that's the way it
had seemed to her.
    When Doug died, she hadn't felt like going on
either, in spite of the problems that had surfaced after Mandy was
born. He'd been her first lover, her first serious relationship,
the only person since her mother who'd accepted her as she was.
Having Mandy had grounded her in reality and given her a sense of
responsibility she'd never experienced or expected.
    Doug had loved Mandy, there were no doubts
about that. He loved to hold her and cuddle her and play with her
as a child plays with a child. But he treated her like a doll and
when he stopped playing, he didn't want the responsibility of
twenty- four hour care. When Laura remembered their last
argument...
    She sighed. Mandy had given her the impetus
to create a good future for both of them. There was no way Laura
could ever disown her daughter, no matter what she did.
    Laura had always felt as if she'd failed her
father after her mother died. What could she have done to make him
less sad? What could she have done to establish a good relationship
between them? Why couldn't he take her in his arms and share his
grief with her? Wasn't she good enough? Wasn't she pretty enough?
Didn't he love her anymore?
    She'd tried to be good, quiet, studious,
perfect, following all the rules. But when that hadn't worked,
she'd tried the opposite. That hadn't worked either.
    Now... What would her father say, what would
he do, what did he feel?
    When Mitch reappeared, his tall,
broad-shouldered frame filled the doorway. She was afraid she
wouldn't have the opportunity to find out what her father felt or
thought. Mitch looked so troubled she wondered if she'd even need
to unpack her bags.
    Before she could ask, Mitch said, "He'll see
you now."
    So many questions popped into her head. Did
he really want to see her? Was he glad she was here? Had the news
upset him? None of the questions came out because she was afraid of
the answers. She had to see for herself.
    She followed Mitch to the room. He said, "Ray
wants me to wait out here. Call if he needs me."
    Need. She was curious as to just how much her
dad did need Mitch. With her heart pounding, she stepped into her
father's room. His brown hair had receded and thinned. There were
many lines radiating from his eyes and mouth. He looked pale. The
IV and oxygen tube seemed out of place attached to a man she'd
always known as vigorous and energetic. He looked worse than she'd
imagined, and she was determined not to say or do anything to upset
him.
    Crossing on wobbly legs to the bed, she stood
at his side. She wanted to kiss his cheek or stroke his hand, but
didn't know if either gesture would be welcome. So she said,
"Hello, Dad."
    His eyes held hers. "Your hair's longer, but
you look the same," he said gruffly. He motioned to the chair next
to the bed. "Sit."
    She lowered herself onto the blue vinyl, her
hands tight on her purse. A hug would mean so much... But her
father had never been the hugging kind. "How do you feel?"
    He scowled, his brows pulling together. "Like
someone turned off my power. I've never been so damned tired in all
my life."
    "Mitch said--"
    "What do you to think of him?"
    That was a loaded question. "I haven't spent
much time with him."
    "I hope you will." He paused without
explaining then continued. "He said you manage a jewelry
store?"
    "It's what I know best." She loved working
with jewelry and selling it to customers who appreciated it as much
as she did.
    "Mitch isn't too enamored with the business
side. He'd rather design and work with the gold and gems."
    That surprised her. She suspected the still
waters ran deep, but Mitch's giving his imagination the freedom to
design seemed out of character. She kept quiet, letting her father
direct their conversation.
    "I'd like to ask you a favor. Call Mitch in
here, will you?"
    So much for a father-daughter reconciliation.
Weren't they