The Wishing Hour

Wishing -

Twenty

A week has passed and my health is completely restored. I feel well–so well in fact, I invite Sarah and Rachael over for tea and cakes and we have a wonderful visit. These two women could take the saddest, most down person in the world and within a minute or two have them smiling and forgetting about their troubles.

Rachael even created for me what she calls her “cheer up” dress. It is is made of the softest yellow crushed velvet with a scooped neck and long bell sleeves. The material is stretchy and hugs my curves, accentuating my growing abdomen. From the waist, the slim fit flares out and hangs to the top of my feet. The neck, sleeves and bottom are trimmed with small crystal beads. It is absolutely beautiful, and as soon as she presented it to me I put it on, leaving my feet bare. I feel more beautiful just wearing it, and definitely more cheered up. I thank her again for her thoughtfulness.

“Oh, you're very welcome,” she says in her cheery, high-pitched voice. “It was no trouble at all and the color looks splendid on you, as I knew it would.”

“I agree,” Sarah chimes in. “I think if I wore a color like that it would make me look washed out.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Rachael cried. “With your gorgeous blond hair and beautiful skin, you would make any color shine, whereas look at these confounded freckles!” she says, pointing to her own face. “There is nothing to be done about them.”

“What do you mean? I love your freckles and gorgeous red hair. When you wear green you put the beauty of the fairest Irish maiden to shame.”

“Ye thin' so, do ye?” she demurred, in her best Irish accent.

“Definitely. No one can pull off wearing green tones as well as you can.”

“Well, I'll have to admit you're right about that.”

When the two women flutter their eyelashes at one another and clink their tea cups, an unlady-like snort escapes me and the three of us are quickly shaking with laughter.

“I don't know what I would do without you two,” I say, wiping eyes.

“You will never have to find out,” Sarah says, squeezing my hand.

“Yes,” Rachael agrees. “Until you can wander freely once more, just consider us your cheer-up squad. Call anytime you need us and we will be here.”

“Thank you. That means more to me than you could ever know.” I look at them both. “I have been without a mother for years and I've never really had a best friend. Now I have both.” The women become teary and my own eyes well up. “Oh, now look what I've done.” I smile and we all reach for a tissue. “Sebastian is going to come down and wonder what's wrong with us.”

“And we will just tell him it is a woman's prerogative to be emotional,” Sarah says. “Tell him it's in the handbook. He can borrow his father's copy.”

“And if Devon can't find his, he can borrow my brother's copy. His wife even added notes in the margins.”