The Wish List by Myrna Mackenzie Page A

son’s call. It was also abundantly clear to Nathan that the stress of worrying about Cory, and about himself as well, was taking its toll on Faith. There were circles beneath her eyes, her face was drawn, her lips tight. He’d bet the bank that she’d barely gotten any sleep last night.
    “Mom, you there?” The voice echoed again, followed by the creaking of the bedsprings.
    Nathan looked toward the kitchen. He knew he should call her; she’d want him to do that. But one glance around the kitchen doorway, at her slender, bowed back was enough. One glimpse of the exposed curve of her neck bent in resignation as she held tight to the phone, picking up the things she’d dropped, and he knew he wasn’t going to call to her. She needed a break.
    And he could give that to her—maybe. If he could just force himself into that bedroom, if he could just steel himself to see what the boy wanted. It wouldn’t take much. Really, it was such a simple thing to do, wasn’t it? So, why was he shaking? Why was his heart tripping along like a clock gone haywire?
    Taking one step toward the door, then another, Nathan moved slowly, so slowly. The room seemed too far away and yet too close at the same time.
    Another step. Just a few more and he’d be there.
    The bed creaked again. If he didn’t stop him, the child would be running around, bare feet and all, forced to go search for help when help was standing here shaking on the wrong side of the door.
    His breathing was shaky as he pulled his shoulders back and clamped down his jaw. Somehow he forced himself past the threshold. He ordered himself to look toward the bed.
    His eyes locked with a pair of small, dark ones. Suspicious eyes.
    The boy coughed once, then bit down on his lip, snuffling his pajama sleeve across his nose. “Are you the doctor? The ‘portant one?”
    Nathan twisted one side of his mouth up in a quick grimace. “I don’t know about that important stuff, but I’m a doctor, all right. Looks like you’re one pretty sick guy.”
    Cory studied Nathan suspiciously. “I got the flu,” he agreed. “I wanted my mom, cause my sheets is all crooked and I can’t find my bear. But you should go now. The flu is ‘tagious, and my mom says you’re afraid of boys like me, anyway.”
    The child frowned and turned away, hunching his skinny little shoulders as if Nathan would disappear if he wished hard enough. It was clear that he wanted nothing to do with the “portant doctor.” And that if Nathan was smart, he would take this golden opportunity to back away. It was also clear that the child was one miserable little tyke. His cheeks were too rosy, his eyes big, bright hollows of darkness. His fever was readable without even using a thermometer.
    Nathan crossed his arms and slid his hands into his armpits. “Your mom said I was afraid of you, did she?” He could hear Faith’s steps as she moved from the kitchen tile onto the muffling carpet.
    “Nathan? Cory?” Faith’s voice was worried. In just a minute she’d be here. Nathan took one more look at the anxious child caught up in the tangled sheets, then his gaze passed over the room. It was brightly decorated, cheery, yet small, very small—and boxy. He felt he was sucking up all the space just by standing in the doorway. A room this size made a man want to bust down walls with his fists. He wondered if the boy felt the same.
    He stared down at the small, tousled head of hair, noticed the tiny pink toes that had come untucked from the dinosaur sheets. The bed seemed narrow, too tiny a space to have to stay in for long. Shut up in here, the child would be alone, sick, lonely...
    Nathan frowned at his own thoughts. He shouldn’t have come in here. Faith had been right to keep the two of them separate. Looking down into the boy’s dark, anxious eyes and seeing the miniature hand that fisted around a bunched-up bit of sheet, Nathan knew he didn’t want to be around this kid. It would be torture. Even now his