One Last Wish Read online

  One Last Wish

  Samantha Baca

  Copyright © 2021 by Samantha Baca.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover Design: Richard Baca

  Image(s): DepositPhotos

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  One Last Wish

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Epilogue

  Other Books By Samantha Baca

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  They say that time heals all wounds. But that’s a lie. Sometimes the damage is too immense. Too raw. It penetrates your soul so deeply that nothing can unhook its claws once it’s grabbed hold. If you’re lucky, time might take pity on you and let you take one last breath before the pain sucks the life out of you and pulls you into the depths of darkness.

  But I wouldn’t count on it.

  One

  “Hey,” I grunted into the phone as I hopped across the tile floor of my studio apartment, trying to force the Spandex-clad trousers up my legs. Note to self—don’t buy the hype of finding work pants that promise to slim you unless you plan to do a workout every time you need to put them on.

  “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked, the sound of traffic coming through as I turned on the speakerphone and tossed it on the bed.

  “I’m trying to find an outfit to wear for the interview tomorrow,” I huffed, shimmying my way into the death trap, aka slim-fitting pants.

  “What are the options?”

  “I have the yellow silk shirt with the black blazer and dress slacks, but I feel like I look like a—”

  “Bumblebee,” she finished for me with a laugh.

  “Or I have the same outfit that I wear to every interview and feel like it’s now a bad omen to wear it to this one.” I gave up trying to pull the pants the rest of the way up my thighs and plopped down on the bed. “I want this job so bad, Char. The interview has to go perfect.”

  “Well then, I guess we’re just going to have to go shopping and find you something to wear. Now get your butt down here so we can get going. I have to get to Lily’s school in an hour, and lucky for you, there’s that strip mall with those cute shops right down the street.”

  “You don’t have to take me shopping. I’ll find something,” I protested, looking at myself in the mirror across from me and grimacing. I was already grabbing at straws with these stupid pants.

  “I’m already downstairs, so hurry your butt up, Emma.”

  I heard the phone click as she hung up. I grumbled one last time then got up to get dressed. Thankfully, the pants were a lot easier to get off than to put on. I grabbed my favorite pair of sunglasses and pushed them up my nose, taking a moment to check my hair before I left. The one good thing working in my favor so far was the gorgeous cut and color I had gotten yesterday as my reward to myself for getting the interview. Another candidate had pulled out at the last minute, which led me straight to the salon to cut off 3 inches of dead weight. My confidence was boosted when I looked in the mirror at the chin-length bob that framed my face perfectly, hiding the scar by my ear. I stuck with a honey brown color that made my charcoal eyes pop and added some highlights, knowing that the California sun would soon lighten it on its own anyway. Finally, I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder as I rushed downstairs to meet her.

  “Hey,” I said as I climbed into her car and pulled the seatbelt across me. She waited impatiently, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel until she heard it click into place. I playfully rolled my eyes and made sure to stick my tongue out at her when it locked. For as long as I had known her, she’d always been the overprotective mom.

  It was a beautiful spring day in San Francisco as we drove with the top down, letting the breeze whip through our hair. I was convinced that it was a sin to live in California and not own a convertible. There was something about the freedom that you felt as you breathed in the salty air while sticking your head out the window like a dog that made it feel exhilarating.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were parked and making our way into one of the stores that had looked promising from what the models in the window were wearing. I made my way over to the long-sleeved, business-appropriate shirts in the back while Charlotte casually perused the tank tops that I would never be caught dead wearing.

  I was flipping through the hangers, unimpressed with the options, when I heard Charlotte call me from across the store. I gave up and tried to remind myself that there was still plenty of time to find something to wear before I allowed myself to feel the wallow and despair that were creeping up on me. Finally, I rounded the corner and saw her squatting down, looking through the boxes of shoes piled under a shelf.

  “What did you find?” I asked, trying to keep my disappointment and frustration out of my voice.

  She moved a few more boxes around before she popped up, her blonde hair bouncing behind her.

  “Yes!” she squealed, handing the box to me.

  I eyed it suspiciously before taking off the lid and looking inside. There were a pair of black heels that were my size. I looked up and furrowed my brow.

  “You know I don’t wear heels,” I said, handing the box back to her.

  “I know, but I thought maybe you could try them,” she replied softly, reaching behind her to pick up the clothes that she had set on the bench against the wall. “With these!”

  She forced them into my hands and clapped excitedly.

  “Now go try them on,” she urged, gently pushing me to the back of the store where the dressing rooms were.

  I groaned and tilted my head back, making sure she saw the fit I was throwing as I walked to the dressing room and waited for an employee to unlock the door for me. I went inside and set my purse down on the small seat in the back, along with the outfit she had picked.

  “Hurry and let me see it. I’ve gotta get to Lily’s school soon,” she hollered from the waiting area.

  “What does she have going on today?” I asked as I pulled my shirt up and over my head, making note that I eventually needed to buy new bras at some point. The black cotton one I was wearing had seen better days and had a hole in the bottom that was starting to get bigger.

  “It’s show and tell day, and Lily took the blanket that she and I have been knitting together. It’s soooo beautiful and soft,” she gushed. “Lily loves it already, and we haven’t even finished it.”

  There was pure excitement in her voice that
made me wish I could be there to see Lily talk about it. I loved seeing them talk about things they were working on together, even though it tugged at the emptiness I felt when I thought about all of the unfinished stuff my mom and I never got around to doing.

  “I don’t want to make you late. Why don’t you get going, and I’ll find a ride back when I’m done?”

  “No need for that,” she laughed. “Trust me, that is the outfit. I’m sure of it.”

  I slid the black satin tank top over my head and brushed my hands along my sides when I saw that it fit perfectly. It wasn’t too tight and hugged my curves perfectly without drawing attention to the areas that made me self-conscious. I quickly pulled on the pair of boot-cut black dress slacks and then slipped on the heels, turning in the mirror to check each angle. Thankfully, the pants looked tight-fitting, but they were so unbelievably comfortable that I didn’t notice.

  She was right. This was the outfit.

  “Well?” she called impatiently.

  I opened the door and stepped out, making sure to keep my foot on the door, so I didn’t accidentally lock myself out. She lowered her phone and stood up, coming closer to look at her work. Her cheeks split into a huge grin as her baby blue eyes lit up.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You look amazing. I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”

  “Thanks,” I laughed, running my hand down the miracle shirt again. “I actually feel amazing in this.”

  “Good.” She raised her eyebrows, and her voice cracked a little. We had been friends since we were nine, and she knew how big of a moment this was for me. Needless to say, we were both feeling a little emotional given our success with finding me an outfit, knowing how picky I was about what type of clothes made me feel comfortable. I still had a hard time swallowing the pill that I was starting over with my career this late in life. I had never imagined that I would spend twenty years working for the same company, climbing the ladder to get to the top, only to start over with a new company before I turned forty.

  “Okay, go get changed and toss everything over the door so that I can go pay,” she said, breaking out of the moment.

  “You’re not buying my stuff,” I countered and went back inside the dressing room to get changed.

  “Yes, I am. It’s good luck if I give it to you as a gift. Now hurry, or we’re gonna be late.”

  I stripped down quickly and tossed everything to her, sliding the shoes under the door. By the time I had changed, she had already paid for everything and waited by the door for me. She handed me the bag as we got in the car and headed for the school.

  “Do you and John have plans for the weekend?” I asked, knowing that their fifteen-year wedding anniversary was coming up in a few weeks, and he wanted to take her out of town to celebrate. Unfortunately, his work schedule was busy, and this was the only weekend that he wouldn’t be out of town for work.

  “We haven’t made any yet,” she said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

  “You don’t have to worry about me this weekend. I’ll be fine,” I reassured her, looking out the window to avoid having a breakdown.

  “I’m not leaving you.” She turned her head to the side, checking oncoming traffic before she pulled out into the intersection to turn left. Traffic was somewhat heavy today, and I knew that we’d be sitting here for a solid hour if she didn't push herself out there.

  “It’s been thirty years since my parents died, and yes, it still hurts, but I’m not a kid anymore. I appreciate you wanting to be there for me, but I think you should let John take you out of town.”

  She let out a heavy sigh as she turned to look at me for a second before turning her attention back to the road and inching forward to make the turn. She turned the steering wheel and went for it.

  “You deserve to get—”

  The sound of metal crunching and glass shattering filled the air around us as my head whipped forward before everything went black.

  Two

  “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

  “I need you to wake up... stay with me.”

  “Help is on the way!”

  “Did you see the driver of the other car?”

  “I think he was drunk, the way he came flying through that intersection with no intention of stopping.”

  “Someone call 911!”

  “Is she alive?”

  “I’ve got a pulse on this one, but it’s shallow. We need to get her to the hospital!”

  Three

  I’ve heard that when it’s your time to go, you know. I’ve always expected it to be like the movies where you see the bright white lights and soft music floats down from heaven as you find your way to the loved ones that have passed before you. Everything is so calm and peaceful. That would have been nice.

  My head throbbed as I woke up to the sound of someone saying my name over and over. Emma, can you hear me? Please wake up, Emma. You can’t do this to us. Please don’t leave us, Emma. We need you. Man, heaven sure was annoying. Or at least that’s where I wished I was when my eyes scanned the room and landed on John sitting across the room from me.

  He hung his head, his wedding ring glistening in the dingy light above him. He was rocking back and forth, chanting something that sounded like, let her be okay, please let her be okay.

  “What are you doing?” I tried to ask, my voice weak and rough. His head whipped up as he looked at me, relief washing across his face. And that’s when it hit me.

  The accident. The truck that came flying into the side of the car when Charlotte turned to clear the intersection as the light changed to yellow. Panic flooded through me as I tried to remember any details, but there wasn’t anything more than that. Was she okay? What happened? Was anyone else injured? Where was the driver? Was she in the hospital too? Please let her be okay.

  He got up and rushed over to the side of my hospital bed, gently reaching down to squeeze my hand that didn’t have an IV sticking out of it.

  “Where is she? Is she okay?” I asked, feeling the way his hand fell limp on mine when I asked about her. A tear slid down his face, his eyes red and swollen. He lowered them and looked away, refusing to answer me. My stomach sank when I knew what he was trying to say but couldn’t.

  “Is she okay?” I repeated desperately, trying to sit up in the bed. “John... is she...”

  He shook his head before covering his face with his hand, his body shaking as he cried.

  I pulled my hand away and covered my mouth as I screamed, the tears rushing down my face. I gasped for air as my body crumbled with the grief. John’s hand gently held onto my shoulder as he tried to comfort me.

  “That’s not possible,” I stammered between sobs, unable to catch my breath. “She... she... she... has to be... alive.”

  I looked up at him, begging for him to tell me that it was a mistake, a misunderstanding of some sort. Instead, he shook his head but didn’t say anything.

  “No!” I cried harder, letting my head fall forward. “It’s... all my... fault!”

  “What’s all your fault?” a little voice asked.

  I looked up, the tears clouding my vision as I saw Lily standing in the doorway, holding a blanket. She looked so little standing there, it didn’t feel like she was ten years old. Her innocent face reminded me of the little girl that still needed her mom. I wiped my face with my hands and tried to pull myself together as I sucked in rapid breaths to replace the oxygen I lacked. My body heaved uncontrollably; my mind unable to process anything other than the fact that my best friend was dead.

  “Nothing, sweetie,” John assured her, pulling her close to him as he thanked whoever had brought her up to my room. I couldn’t see much past the tears that were still blurring my eyes.

  “Do you want to come say hi?” he asked her, gently rubbing her back as she looked unsure of whether to come any closer. She nodded and took a few steps closer. I had no idea what I looked like and prayed that I didn’t scare her or further traumatize this poor c
hild.

  “Hi, Aunt Emma,” she whispered as she stood next to my bed and clutched the blanket to her chest.

  “Hey, sweet Lily,” I whispered back, a loud sob escaping my throat while doing my best to give her my bravest smile.

  “My mom died,” she said sadly, lowering her chin to her chest.

  I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crumbling in front of her. I covered my mouth with my hand and wiped away the fresh tears that were falling.

  “Are you going to die too?” She tilted her head, a look of concern etched on her beautiful little face. Her voice cracked, and I saw her struggling not to cry. I scooted over as much as I could and pulled the blanket up, waving my hand for her to sit with me. She gently climbed up onto the bed, making sure not to touch any of the tubing hooked up to me. I was in a decent amount of pain and hadn’t spoken with the doctor yet, so I had no clue what the extent of my injuries were, but that didn’t stop me from pulling her into me and hugging her with everything I had. As far as I was concerned, it was nothing too extreme, or I imagine I would have nurses and doctors flocking to my bed the moment they knew I was awake.

  I felt her small body tremble as she cried, her heart breaking along with mine. I cried with her, knowing the pain she was feeling after losing my parents around her age. I would never wish this pain on anyone, let alone a child. I looked up to find John whispering to the nurse at the door, asking her to give us a moment before they came in to talk to me.

  I held Lily and rubbed her back, hoping to bring her even an ounce of comfort. I had lived through this pain and knew that there was nothing that could even begin to dull it. It was like a tattoo, permanently embedded inside of you, forever dictating who you were from that point on. Charlotte had gone out of her way to be there for me when I lost my parents, and now it was my turn to do the same for Lily.

  Four

  I stood at the podium, my fingers trembling as I looked into the crowd of people with red, swollen faces, wearing all black. I turned to the picture on the table beside me and looked to Charlotte for help. It was one of my favorite pictures of her, taken shortly after she had Lily. She was glowing in this picture, pure happiness radiating from her. Her smile stretched across her face, and big blue eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning.