The Wishing Tree by Cheryl Pierson Page A

he'd not been expecting; a genuine greeting so sincere he wondered if he may have known her from the past. She seemed familiar to him, somehow. But if he'd known her, he never would've forgotten. She was too beautiful – inside and out – for him to have misplaced that memory. Even with two years in Iraq and the war wounds that separated his normal life before and what passed for normal now.
    He smiled back, reflexively, without conscious thought or effort, and her grin widened. A few feet away from him, she stopped and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
    Pete's smile faded. He'd been just about to speak when she'd stopped in her tracks like that.
    "That's one of the most beautiful scents on this earth," she said, looking straight into his one good eye. "I've always loved the smell of Christmas."
    There was no rejection in her face – she looked at him the way people used to – before the war. When he'd had both eyes, and no eye patch.
    "You're lucky," she went on, coming toward him. "I would love to be surrounded by Christmas trees every day at work."
    Pete hadn't thought of himself as 'lucky' for a good long while. It startled him to hear her describe him like that. His mouth turned up sardonically. How 'lucky' could one person get, he wondered? He'd survived the entire tour he'd done in Iraq the first time around, only to be re-deployed six months later for another year. Two weeks before he'd been due to come home, they'd hit an IED. Yeah … he'd been lucky that day. He'd only lost an eye. Two of his crew had lost legs ... another lost his life.
    "I'm Maria Sanchez," she said, putting a hand out to him. "But everyone calls me Ria."
    Pete closed the distance between them and took her hand. "I'm Pete Cochran. Everyone calls me Pete." He grinned at her, and she laughed. "I see you walk by here every day—"
    She pointed down the street. "My son goes to school just down the road. We don't live far, so I walk him to school and back every day."
    Pete nodded. "He won't put up with that much longer."
    "No," she agreed. "He already believes he's too old for such things." Her smile was wistful. "He's growing up too quickly."
    There was silence between them for a moment, then she said, "I better get going. I don't want to be late."
    "You're … early today." The words were out before he could stop them. Nothing like letting her know he'd been noticing her every day from inside the office. At least, that's what she'd think.
    But she only smiled. "It's the last day of school before the holiday break. They're having a little party for the kids. I'm going to help serve the cupcakes and try to keep order." She rolled her eyes. "Have you ever seen a class of twenty-five kindergartners full of holiday excitement and sugary cupcakes?"
    Pete laughed. "Aw, come on, now. I guess I might've been one of those rowdy kindergartners a few years ago, myself."
    She flashed him a smile as she started down the street once more. "I'd better head on. Wish me luck."
    He saluted her and waved. His heartbeat slowed as she turned and walked away from him. He watched her go, his spirits dimming as the red coat became lost amid the ordinary crush of people along the sidewalks.
    The last day of school before the holiday break, she 'd said.
    Pete turned to go inside. The cold had managed to find its way through the material of his clothing and wrap its tendrils around his insides. The reminder of the few days left until Christmas was not a pleasant one.
    Before he'd joined the military ... things had been different. Christmas had always been his favorite time of year. He'd considered himself 'lucky' to be able to work in the family business, raising trees at the family tree farm, and selling them at Christmas. It had made his father a good living, and he had expected his two sons, Pete and Josh, to follow in his footsteps.
    Josh had been the one with the green thumb. Pete couldn't help but think of the irrepressible smile his younger brother always had