Page 10 of His Weekend Wife

“I guess so.” She sniffed loudly. “You can’t go though. It’s snowing. We can build a snowman together. Mommy can make her special cocoa and everything will be okay, just like she says.”

One corner of his mouth lifted, but his eyes remained gloomy. “Here, I want to show you something.” He reached to her nightstand, ripping a sheet of construction paper from the book.

“What is it, daddy?” She sat up straight so she could see what he was doing. He placed the paper on his lap and traced his hand with a red crayon. “Now, put your hand here.”

She did as he asked, placing her hand in the outline of his much larger one and he traced it, as he’d done his own. “I might not be here, but always remember that you are in my heart.” He drew a large heart shape. “And in my stars.” He drew three stars at the top of the paper. “One day, you’ll find a man that’ll treat you how you deserve to be treated—you’ll be his heart and stars. You hold out for a prince, little bug. You don’t understand now, I know, but you’ll see. There’s a man out there who will cherish you. One who will offer you protection, love, and his world. Now close your eyes.” He patted her shoulder.

She didn’t want to fall asleep. She held her eyes open, swearing she would never fall asleep again, but she could no longer hold off the cloud that drifted over her. She was asleep when her father stood, gave each of his girls one last kiss, and left their room for the final time.

“Hey, you awake?”

Ash James jerked and hit her head on the window. The dry rotted vinyl seat creaked in resistance. She turned, rubbing her head, and found Dewey, a diner customer, staring at her, his dark gaze narrowed in concern. She scooted out of the booth where she’d been taking a short break after a twelve-hour shift. “I must have zoned out. I’m sorry.” Straightening her faded yellow waitress uniform, she hurried toward the counter.

“No apology needed. Jasper should have his ass in a sling working you girls as much as he does.” Dewey tugged at his scraggly beard and shifted in his dirty work boots.

“It’s not his fault, Dew. You know I’m working for my tips and a girl’s gotta pay her bills. I’m cashing out the register. Want another cup of coffee for the road?”

“No, dear. I’ll already be up half the night.” He slid a hand into his pocket and retrieved several bills which he laid on the counter.

Ash picked up the money. “Let me get your change.”

He shrugged a thin shoulder. “Keep it, girl. You deserve it.” He winked, smiled, and limped toward the door. Dewey was a veteran who came into the diner every night, sharing his stories that had many patrons entertained and, at times, shedding a tear. Although he said he was here a lot because of the strong coffee and fresh rolls, Ash suspected he didn’t like being at home alone.

“Thank you.” She slipped the twenty into her apron pocket. Each dollar counted—each penny went for something.

Once the glass door shut behind him, Ash flipped the sign to ‘closed’. She looked out onto the empty street and saw that the rain was now only a light sprinkle. She hated walking home in the rain. Movement on the corner of the street caught her attention. Standing in his usual spot was the homeless man who ventured here to sleep on the bench.

“Ash, why don’t you get out of here. You’ve worked a lot of hours. I’ll close,” Betty said from where she was sweeping up a toddler’s uneaten dinner from the floor.

“Are you sure?” Ash’s feet were hurting and she couldn’t wait to leave, but she didn’t want to leave her friend to take care of the mess alone.

“I’m sure. Run along. All I have at home are three cats and a snoring husband. You have studying to do, don’t you?”

“I finished exams last week. Yet, I won’t argue with you. It seemed like the customers were extra hard to please today.” She emptied her pockets, counted a hundred dollars in tips, then slipped the money into her shoe, just in case someone mugged her and took her purse. Pulling off her apron, she hung it on a hook. Grabbing the last muffin from the glass case, she dropped it into a white bag and poured a disposable cup full with the last of the coffee. “Take care, Betty. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She grabbed her umbrella from the bin, then stepped out into the night, looking both ways for traffic. As usual, the street was quiet. She jogged across to the other sidewalk, being sure not to spill the coffee as she avoided a large water puddle. The man had just gotten settled on the bench and was dragging a holey, dirty blanket across his shoulders. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” she said as she approached him.

“You’d do right by forgetting me. Most people have,” he said.

“Not everyone.” She held up the bag and shook it gently. “I have your favorite. I saved one back.”

“A chocolate caramel muffin. You know that’s a fine treat for this old man.” He reached out with a shaky hand and took the bag.

“You especially need this on a rainy night.” She handed over the coffee. He held the cup between his palms, inhaling the steam like it was heaven. “The coffee’s not the best. Never is, but it’ll warm you up.” She started to turn toward the street, but a thought came to her. “You might need this too.” She stuck out the umbrella, but he shook his head.

“Can’t take your umbrella, ma’am. You have to walk home. Wouldn’t be right you getting stuck in a downpour.”

“It’s not far.” She held it out. With reluctance, he finally accepted the offering and lifted it over his head. She pulled back, but he tugged at the sleeve of her uniform.

“You’re my guardian angel,” he said in a quiet, shaking voice.

“Thank you, but I’m not an angel. I’m just wanting to do what’s right.”

“If I was the wish maker, I’d make all of your dreams come true.”

“And if that were possible, that you could make any dream come true, I’d ask that you make me Cinderella and bring me Prince Charming.”

“You believe in fairytales?”

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