Dandelion Wishes

Chapter 1

TODAY WAS THE day.

There'd be hugs and smiles, reminiscences and laughter.

And apologies. Of course there'd be apologies. But they'd be accepted and waved aside because best friends stood by each other. Always.

Today was the day.

If Emma Willoughby repeated it to herself often enough, this time it might come true.

Standing in the parking lot next to clumps of cheery daffodils, she checked her purse to make sure Tracy's gift was inside. She silenced her cell phone. She pasted a friendly smile on her face, passed under the grand portico and headed toward the massive glass doors of Greenhaven Rehabilitation Center.

The doors slid open as she neared. On previous visits, she'd recognized people in the lobby—elderly actors recovering from strokes, aging politicians recovering from hip surgeries, elite athletes recovering from injuries. But in nearly six months, she'd never caught a glimpse of Tracy.

The Sunday receptionist, Francie, looked up to greet her, recognition stealing the beginnings of a smile from her face.

Today, Emma silently prayed.

Francie pushed her rhinestone glasses up the bridge of her nose, tugged the lapels of her aquamarine polyester jacket tightly together and sent an icy glance toward a tall, aging security guard, who stepped forward to block Emma's path. In all the months Emma had been coming here, this was the first time Francie, Greenhaven's gatekeeper, had set a guard on her.

"Young lady, I'm terribly sorry."

Emma's smile weakened. She would not give up. She would keep coming every Sunday until someone let her in. Tracy's family couldn't keep her out forever.

"I know I can't go inside, Francie." Emma reached into her purse for her gift—a Carina Career doll. She'd been handing the receptionist a doll every Sunday for months. This week Carina was an astronaut. The dolls were meant as a reminder of their friendship and to let her best friend know Emma believed she still had plenty of choices ahead of her. "Could you please give this to Tracy?"

Francie blanched. "I can't take that. Tracy Jackson is no longer a patient in this facility."

Emma felt a moment's panic. "What do you mean?"

"Tracy Jackson is no longer a patient in this facility," Francie repeated. She glanced at the security guard once more, a disapproving line deepening her already furrowed brow. "I must ask you to leave."

Tracy was dead.

Emma tried to form a word—any word—that would refute that possibility. But the air in the lobby had become thick and heavy—suffocating—until Emma knew she was going to collapse if she didn't move.

On a gasp of air, she spun and ran to her car parked at the far edge of the visitors' section. The chilly bay breeze clawed at the hem of her dress, buffeted her hair. By the time she reached the new Subaru, she was shaking so badly she dropped her purse to the ground and leaned against the car door as memories assailed her.

She and Tracy on the bank of the Harmony River building a mud fort for frogs. She and Tracy dreaming about different futures in the Carina Career section of the toy store. Tracy bursting into their dorm room doing an uncoordinated victory dance after landing an internship at an ad agency. And then the most painful memory—Tracy's near-lifeless body, head smashed against the passenger window of Emma's car. And everywhere...blood.

They'd known each other since they were three, and yet Tracy's family hadn't let her say goodbye, hadn't let Emma know she had died.

But why would they?