As You Wish

"Did I?" I repeated, looking at Ethan.

He blinked up at me innocently. "Well, yeah. I wasn't gonna tell you but I know you did. How else did she know about the Dread Pirate Spike and the R.O.U.S.s and the horses?"

Well, he had me there. I could either fess up to my plagiarism of the classic tale of Buttercup and Westley, or I could let him think I was talking to Noreen secretly. I laughed weakly, not looking at either of my parents.

"Eat your peas, buddy."

After dinner, Mom sent Ethan to the living room with a plateful of cake that was far too large for him with instructions to find a movie he wanted to watch on TV while we finished cleaning the kitchen. Dad sat at the table, sorting through the pile of junk mail that always seemed to collect on their counter.

"D'you want a cup of coffee?" Mom asked as I picked up a dish towel. "I have decaf."

"No," I said. "But I'll take a cup of tea if you put the kettle on for me."

I could almost hear my dad roll his eyes, though I knew it was all in jest. "When are you gonna start drinking coffee like a man, son?"

"Didn't realize there was a manly way to drink beverages," I muttered.

He laughed and Mom patted my back.

"He's manly enough already," she said to Dad. "Any more manly and he'll intimidate all the girls away."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. Mom had always scoffed about my beard and scruffy hair. Dad had retorted that the ladies liked a guy who was rough around the edges. Mom would tell him that as a lady, she felt confident in saying that the ladies liked a sensitive guy who took care of his appearance. Then Dad would come up with something about working with my hands. Between the two of them, I think they'd come up with this concept of me as some tough guy who wasn't afraid to read poetry or something. That was hilarious in itself, since even though I wasn't particularly tough or sensitive, I always did kind of intimidate people a little. That was genetics, though: broad shoulders from my dad's side and thick, bushy hair from my mom's had always made me seem a little older than I was, but I was only twenty-seven.

"You really should get a girlfriend, Jere," Dad said.

"This again?" I asked. "I don't have time."

"He's not wrong," Mom added. "You're allowed to have a life outside of Ethan's treatments."

"I'm also not exactly a catch," I said frankly. "The whole 'not having a steady job' thing is a real downer, you know."

"The right woman would understand."

"Or the right woman wouldn't care, if it's only for a night," Dad added.

"Oh my God," I groaned. "I don't need to hear this from you two."

"Well, someone has to say it," Mom said. "You barely have a social circle anymore, honey. What if Ethan stays over for a sleepover so you can ask out the pretty girl from the Wish Mission? Noreen?"

"Kennedy," I said. "And no, absolutely fucking not. You don't know what Ethan needs on a daily basis."

"Maybe you should teach her," Dad said. "I mean, it's pretty bad when your own mother is trying to help you get laid. Let us have Ethan stay over for a night, Jere."

I was drying a plate that time. Instead of slamming it down on the counter like I wanted to, I silently finished drying it, then carefully placed it on the drying rack before putting the towel on the counter. Mom recognized my reaction and sighed.

"Honey, I'm sorry, we just--"

I ignored her and found Ethan in the living room, barely a quarter of the cake on his plate touched. He was watching some cartoon movie intently, though not intently enough to miss me trying to swipe a bite of his cake.

"Dad!" he scolded, lunging towards my hand as he tried not to laugh. "I'm sick. You're not supposed to steal from me."

Laughing, I popped the cake in my mouth, catching him before he could grab my wrist. "Sorry, bud. I was hungry."

He pretended to get mad and "wrestled" me, though I was careful to make sure I didn't actually handle him too aggressively before wrapping him up in a hug while we settled in to watch the movie. When my parents joined us a little while later, handling the earlier tension by ignoring it as we always did, Ethan's head was resting on my bicep and he was dozing in and out.

And that, right there.

That was why.

I didn't want a one-night thing. Been there, done that. Kennedy was cute, but she was young. Too young, not even just in age but in spirit. It wouldn't be fair to her to be involved in my life. It wasn't fair for anyone to be involved in my life. I couldn't give a woman the attention she'd want and, more importantly, that she'd deserve. I couldn't give her time, or money, or even my full self.

I had a sick kid who needed my attention more than anything. Even if anyone wanted to be with me, I couldn't do that to them.

And I couldn't do that to Ethan.

7 - Noreen

Definitions are malleable.

What mattered was what could get pushed through and approved. We had different categories of wishes. Events were large-scale trips, such as taking a child to Canada's Wonderland or Disney. Experiences, however, were multi-part events. They were usually local, smaller in scale, and took place over the course of a day.

If a child wanted to be a magician, that would be an experience. They'd have a private lesson with a magician who usually donated their time, a show for them and a few friends and then attend a performance where the child would go on stage at some point and join the magician as they performed a trick for the audience.

Usually.

No one ever stated outright that an experience had to be a one-day event or small in scale, so I pushed through the paperwork for Ethan. He was going to get the Princess Bride Experience and it was going to culminate in Spain.

What were they going to do, fire me?

Picking up the phone, I dialled from memory.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Collip, this is Noreen Willow. How are you?"

"My goodness, dear. I'm fine. It's been years. How are you and your parents?"

"Everyone is well. Do you and Mr. Collip still have the ranch?"

She paused. "Yes, we do. Were you considering getting another horse? I'm not sure if we have availability. Mr. Collip isn't getting around like he used to and we're... Well, we're winding things down a bit."

"Um, no ma'am. I was wondering if you still had the Andalusian horses?"

"We have two, Noreen. Were you interested in doing some riding?"

My colleagues could probably see my smile from across the office. "I am, and I have a friend who would join me. Do you have a minute or two? I'd love to catch up and explain what I've been up to."

We talked about Ethan and his obsession with Spain and The Princess Bride.

"You always had such a big heart. That's just lovely. My grandchildren love that movie. You remember my son Ted? He fell in love with them when he was in England and practically raised the kids with that movie. It's the one with the swords and monsters, right?"

"I'm not too sure about monsters, but absolutely."

"I bought my grandson the Black Knight for Christmas. You could detach his arms and legs. It sounds silly, but they love the movie. I had to get it from the Internet."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that was from The Holy Grail.

"I'm sure he loved it."

"He did. I just wish they lived a little closer. Well, you let us know when you want to come down and we'll make sure you're set. The farm isn't exactly what it was, but you know kids and horses. I'm sure he'll love it and I know they'll love the attention."

"The horses?"

"Of course the horses, dear. They're people too, you know."

I chuckled. She must have said that a million times back when Mom and Dad had Red stabled at their farm. "Yes, ma'am. And I certainly like them better than a lot of two-legged people."

The call ended, but the smile remained. She was always the sweetest woman.

Misha had six people lined up for interviews. It was going to upset some people that my position wasn't filled internally, but I wasn't going to question her choices. Knowing her, she likely had some sort of Zen psychobabble reason for looking outside. Noreen, if they won't step up to fight me on this, how will they fight for the clients?

In her defense, if someone came to her with a compelling argument she'd probably give them a shot, but she liked to sit back and see how people responded instead of walking them through their choices. If it was up to me, I'd look at promoting Hailey or Jim, both of whom showed potential.

When I got home, Mom's car was in the driveway. I didn't see her when I walked in.

"Mom?"

"Noreen? In the attic."

I climbed the stairs to the second floor and saw the pull-down door for the attic was open and heard her puttering around.

"Aren't you a little early?"

"I thought I'd get a head start. Besides, I bought a wreath for you from the Boy Scouts. Why let it dry out when I could hang it on your door?"

She was sixty-one and I wasn't keen on her being up there moving large boxes. I took two steps up the ladder.

"Start handing down what we're going to need."

"Oh, it's a 'we' project now? I thought I was on my own."

"You could be. Would you prefer that?"

"Don't sass your mother. Here's the biggest box."

We wrangled everything down and piled it by the front door.

"You seem to be in a better mood. How are things at work?"

"Better since I quit." It was the truth. I was sleeping better and wasn't snapping at anyone.

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened while she stared at me. Then everything spilled out in a torrent of words. "You quit? Are you okay? Do you need any money? Why didn't you tell me? What can we do?"

She stepped forward to hug me.

"Mom, I'm fine."

Leaning back, she tilted her head and looked at me skeptically. "Really? You're okay?"

"I promise. I'm fine."

"So, are you out the door yet? You should take some time for you before finding something else. Maybe we can fly to New York for a long weekend. Do some shopping."

"I put in my two weeks, but I'm still there every day."

"Oh, come on. They won't miss you if you take two extra days. You're just filling out paperwork and stuff, right?"

"Actually, no. I have a final client."

"And that's a good thing?"

Smiling, I squeezed her arm. "It's fine. Let's get some tea. It's a little boy. Ethan. He's seven and absolutely in love with The Princess Bride. I think he believes it's set in Spain. He's the cutest kid, Mom. I don't know everything, with his medical background, I mean, but once he warms up, he's laughing and talking and..."

"Normal? Just a cute little boy?"

I nodded slowly, knowing what she meant. "Yeah. You just want to gobble him up. He's just... thin. Very thin. I'm going to do some shopping and get him some new clothes. The ones he has hang off him."

"His parents don't take care of that?"

"It's just Ethan and his father. I'm not sure if there was a divorce or what the situation was, but the mother isn't in the picture. We're going to get them a trip to Spain, but Kennedy never contacted our insurance carrier, so now I'm jumping through hoops."

"You'll get it done. That's who you are, Noreen. You got that from your dad. So, is this single father handsome? Any reason you took on another client right before leaving?"

My mother thought that I owed her at least three grandchildren and I wasn't sure if I wanted any. "I'm taking him on because the office is swamped and they have no one else. Don't read too much into it, Mom. And I didn't inherit wanting to do my job from Dad."

"I see. Well, I'm happy you're happy again. Were you aware that you were humming the whole time we brought stuff down?" She grabbed the sugar and milk and put them on the table. "Let's plan something for after your last day. And by the way, you didn't say he wasn't handsome."

I just rolled my eyes. Singing and music had always been part of my life. Mom thought that if I wasn't humming or singing, something was seriously wrong. Maybe she wasn't totally wrong. I only noticed I was humming when someone else pointed it out. Shrugging, I put the kettle on the table.

Mom dropped her tea bag into her cup and stared at it while slowly stirring the water.

"You did get that from your father. And how sharp you are. How you pick up on all the details and know what someone's like after knowing them five minutes. You're going to have to forgive him sometime, Noreen. And you're going to have to forgive yourself."

"Can we not, Mom? Just... Just enjoy the tea."

Her voice was quiet, but strong. "He loves you. There was never a time when he didn't. Everyone was in shock. He didn't mean it. Did you know he saw a therapist for a while? Can you imagine that? Your father?"

Running my tongue along my teeth, I looked at the ceiling before finally taking a deep breath. "What sort of father tells an eleven-year-old she was the reason her cousin died? I mean, I get it, he was right, but you don't say that to a kid."

"That's not exactly what he said and he regrets saying anything every day of his life. He misses you so much, Noreen." She leaned forward, her voice a thing of iron. "And it was NOT your fault! Don't ever say that."

I shrugged, which always irritated her. Mom slammed her spoon down on the table.

"If you still think that, you need to talk to someone again. I'm telling you, it wasn't your fault. I love her, but your aunt never met a drink that wasn't made better by a second and a third. Your father was an idiot and trying to... I don't know, comfort his sister or something."

I should have been there.

My aunt and uncle took Cassidy to the beach. She was three years younger than me and always wanted me around. I'd promised that I'd go with them and then bailed at the last minute to go to the movies with two friends. She disappeared, or that's what my aunt claimed to anyone that would listen, and by the time they pulled her from the water she couldn't be revived.

Drunk, my aunt screamed at me at the service before the funeral.

"Where were you? Where were you when she was drowning? She loved you!"

I couldn't speak. Terrified, I just stared at her, my heart almost pounding out of my chest. I finally turned to my father, my protector, the man who was supposed to love me.

"It's a reasonable question, Noreen. Was a movie more important than your cousin?"

So cold. So logical. That was the day my father killed something inside of me. I lost him that afternoon and made damn sure that in return, he lost me.

I didn't remember running. I didn't remember leaving or dashing across the street, dodging cars. All I remember is my mother holding me in that park as I wept and wept.

They were right. I should have been there. I should have been watching Cassidy. It took me years of therapy to finally accept that even though I should have been there, I wasn't her mother. And I sure as hell hadn't been too drunk to keep an eye on my daughter.

Sighing again, I looked my mother in the eyes, almost daring her to look away.

"I don't need a therapist, Mom. I know what happened and who was responsible. I also know that they were right. Maybe it wasn't my responsibility, but if I'd been there, things would have been different."

Mom hugged me tightly before leaving.

"I love you, baby. No matter what you think, it wasn't your fault. I'm glad you're finding something else. You can't keep trying to save her."

That night I curled up again on the couch, snuggled under the comforter, and finished reading the romance I'd started. Sleeping was out of the question.

The next day, I sat in on one of Misha's interviews. The woman seemed personable but older than what I had expected. Maybe maturity would be a good thing. When I got out of the interview, I called the insurance company.

"Do you have a claim number?"

"Yes." I read it off to him.

"Thanks. Please hold."

After a few minutes of horrible muzak, someone else came on the line. "Mrs. Willow, do you have a claim number?"

I sighed and read it off for the woman.

"Thank you. Please hold."

"Wait! Don't switch me to..."

She was gone.

It took me forty-five minutes to find out that they had no new information for me about Spain. Coffee wasn't covering it and I needed something positive, so I called Jeremy.

"I have some good news. If you can make it, I have availability for Ethan at Sunflower Ranch on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. I'm going to rewatch the movie tonight and see if we can get the horses looking like they do at the end when Fezzik catches Buttercup."

"That sounds great. Saturday would work for us if that works for you. And, um, I wouldn't worry too much about the resemblance to stuff from the movie."

"Oh, okay. I guess he knows it's just a movie?"

"Uh... yeah. He's more of a concept guy. We can talk about it on Saturday. So, how will this work?"

"Well, you can have up to six guests with you. If any are under eighteen, I'll need to know asap. We'll have to get their information and talk to their parents or guardians. I'll have two staff members with me and a photographer. The ranch experience is being donated by the owners and we'll be bringing breakfast and lunch, so you have until Thursday to let me know how many people we'll be feeding. There are some more details, but I'll email you everything."

"This is all great. If... Listen, I appreciate everything you're doing."

"No, not at all. We're happy to be there for both of you."

"Okay. Thanks again. I'll see you Saturday."

Jim, our photographer, insisted on dressing up as Miracle Max. I was skeptical, but pleasantly surprised when I saw him Saturday morning. Ethan would love him. We set up a table under a large tree with the food for breakfast. Mrs. Collip was so happy to see us, I thought she'd never lose that grin. Mr. Collip pulled me in for an enormous hug and I held him gently. He was probably approaching seventy, but he looked like he was in his nineties.

We were all near the gate when Jeremy drove up. The only guests were Ethan's grandparents, which seemed terribly wrong somehow. Where were his cousins or family friends or his mother's side of the family?

I stepped forward. "Hello, Ethan. Welcome to Sunflower Ranch. We're going to have some breakfast and then I was hoping you could help me groom the horses. Can I introduce you to everyone?"

He nodded.

"Okay, this is Miracle Jim. He's our photographer." I waited for a reaction that didn't arrive.

Ethan looked at him with no sign of recognition. "Hi, I'm Ethan."

Jim stayed in character. "Don't mind me, Ethan. I had to become a photographer after Prince Humperdink fired me."

Ethan looked back towards his dad, who had a strange look on his face, and then to Jim again. "Oh. Um, well, I bet you're pretty good."

I stepped in. "Right. And this is Mr. And Mrs. Collip. It's their ranch. They have the horses, a few other animals and grow some fruits and vegetables."

Mrs. Collip put her hands on her knees and leaned in. "What? This isn't Ethan, it's Arthur. King of the Britons!"

Okay, not the most auspicious of starts.

8 - Jeremy

Miracle Jim was a better miracle worker than Miracle Max could have ever dreamed of being.

I'd never told Ethan the part of the story where Westley was mostly dead. There were just some things that didn't transcend art forms, and Billy Crystal's performance was one of them. How could I do justice to something like that in a bedtime story? No, Miracle Max's role in the tale of the Dread Pirate Spike--whose real name was now Westley, after Jim's addition to the story--was something I always skipped.

It might have had a little to do with the fact that I didn't really want to think about the whole mostly-dead-versus-all-dead thing, but admitting to that would require thinking about it and so I simply didn't.