“Put me down.” Katie squirmed in his arms.

“Stop it before I drop you and hurt your head again.” He’d swooped her up and held her close to his chest. “You weigh nothing.”

“Liar.” She clutched her arms around his neck and hung on like she’d lose him if he let her go. “I weigh over a hundred pounds.”

He cradled her while he raised and lowered her like he was weighing her. “I’d guess one hundred and thirty-two.” It was only a guess, but when her jaw dropped, he assumed he was close.

“How did you know?”

Bowie laughed. “In the desert, my rucksack weighed just over eighty pounds without armor or ammo. I used that as a gauge. How close did I get?”

“Off by a pound.” She rested her head against his arm and winced.

“Hurts bad, huh?” He adjusted her body so her face leaned into him, not the back of her head.

“It’s not pleasant.”

Bowie kicked open the door to the bakery. His father stood behind the counter, wearing a ruffled apron. “That’s a look I never thought I’d see.”

Katie lifted her head and smiled. “He looks good in ruffles.”

“What did Doc say?” Ben opened the swinging door that led to the back room.

“He says she needs rest and that you have to run the shop the next few days.”

Katie moved until Bowie was forced to put her down rather than drop her.

“He did not. He said he can’t rule out a concussion, but that’s all he said.”

She lifted a broken heart cookie from the cooling rack. He watched her frown before she took a bite.

“Not true. She has to rest and eat well.” He looked at his father. “I’ll be staying here tonight.”

Dad’s eyes grew big with his statement. “Oh, okay then.”

Bowie winked at his father. “Looks like you and Maisey have options.” He’d never seen his father blush, but the red on his cheeks matched the trim on his apron.

“I’m going upstairs,” Katie said while she snuck past him.

He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to his side. “I’ll carry you.” There was no way Katie was making it up the stairs on her own.

“I can walk.”

“Stop being so stubborn. You have a concussion. I’m carrying you.” He looked at his dad, who laughed his way back to the front of the bakery.

“I may have a concussion. I don’t need you to carry me. I don’t want you to babysit me.”

“Wrong.” He bent down and tucked his arm under the crook of her knees and lifted. She crumbled against him. “Doctor’s orders.” The one thing he knew about Doc Parker was he didn’t ask for anything that wasn’t needed.

“Fine.”

She held on to him while he took the back stairs two at a time. His heart beat rapidly, like a drummer in his chest. He couldn’t decide if it was the exertion or the anxiety. As soon as she opened the door, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel. This was supposed to be his and Brandy’s place.

Though he’d said goodbye at the cemetery. Letting something go wasn’t like flicking off a light switch. There were pieces of her that would remain with him forever.

When Katie leaned over to turn the knob, he held his breath. He felt like he was back in Afghanistan walking through a minefield.

The door swung open, and Katie’s sweet scent filled the air. He stopped at the threshold and put her down. The orange glow of the setting sun bled between the cream curtains across the room.

“It’s small, but it works.” She rocked forward and backward several times. He didn’t know if she was feeling awkward for him or about him being in her place.

“It’s great.” He walked past her to the center of the living room. A blue sofa took up most of the space, but the essentials were there, like a coffee table and a television. He moved toward the window, where a small table sat covered with small pieces of paper.

He picked one up.

“Don’t read it unless you plan on trying to help.” She plucked it from his fingers.

“What are these?”

She pulled a folded piece of paper from a shoebox and opened it. “This one was granted, or it will be, so I suppose it’s okay to share it.” She opened the tiny folded square and handed it to him.

My only wish right now is to have an hour alone with my husband so I can show him how much I love him.

Louise Williams

“She wants a babysitter, and you found her one?” Bowie folded the paper and stuck it back into the shoebox.

“I will babysit.”

“She’s got eight kids.”

Katie moved her head from left to right with slow deliberation. “She has seven. Maybe there will be eight if she gets that hour alone with Bobby.”

“Don’t tell, Doc.”

Katie looked exhausted. She pulled out a chair and sat with a heavy thud. “I’m not telling anyone’s secrets.” She turned from him and looked out the window.

Since her fall, she’d lost her spark. “Beaten down” were words he’d use to describe her. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m okay.” She rose. “Let me show you the mansion.”

Bowie had done all right with the little he’d seen. He didn’t need a full tour, but if it was important to Katie, he’d suffer through it.

He looked around the living room. It wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. When Bea had talked of the place, Bowie hadn’t pictured it to look like a real apartment. In his mind, he saw a loft with open beams and exposed wiring. This place was an actual apartment. It was perfect.

Katie tentatively took his hand. He turned her palm over to see if she’d injured it during the fall. She’d never been shy about touching him, but her delicate touch felt foreign.

“Does your hand hurt?”

She looked down to where his hand covered hers. “No, it’s fine.”

She threaded her fingers through his and walked him through the tiny kitchen equipped with everything a person needed, from a microwave to a refrigerator covered in magnets. She had a space on the freezer door with cut up magnetic words and letters. Bowie caught his name amidst words like happy, content, and independent. There was one string of words put together, I love Bowie. Before he could comment, she reached up and mixed the letters and words so nothing made sense, but even if she could erase the evidence, she couldn’t erase his memory of it. She loved him. That was all he needed to know.

“There’s stuff in the fridge if you get hungry.”

“Sweetheart, I’m starved, but not for food.” They had been dating for weeks now, but every time he used sexual innuendo, she blushed. With her skin so pale, the pink that rose to her cheeks made her look downright feverish. “Show me the bedroom where I won’t be able to make love to you. I want to see the bed that won’t squeak under my weight tonight.”

Katie moved ahead of him down the hallway. She poked her head in the first room. “Spare.” She moved down to the next door. “Bathroom.” At the end of the hallway was her room. It smelled like her. “Convent.”

A big bed sat against the wall. Bowie swallowed a stone of sorrow that seemed to lodge in his throat. His brother had custom made a headboard for Brandy and him. He wondered what had happened to it. This bed had a simple wooden frame and headboard.

Katie sat on the bed and fell to her side, curling up like a baby.

“Not yet. Doc says no sleeping for a few hours.” He held her hands and pulled her into a sitting position. He understood how a head injury could change a person, but Katie acted like something had stolen her best friend. “You okay? You seem sad or depressed. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

She turned her head, and he could see tears collect in the corners of her brilliant blue eyes. “No, I’m tired, that’s all.”

He had to take her word for it because one thing he knew about Katie was, she didn’t lie. She was like an open book, and if something was bothering her, he was certain she’d let him know.

“Tell you what. Let’s go into the living room and see if we can’t grant some wishes.” He helped her to her feet and walked her to the table, where she’d been sorting through the tiny pieces of paper.

She opened one note, crumbled it up, and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

“Hey, that’s someone’s wish you’re throwing away.”

She pulled it out and handed him a note that said, “I want a twelve-incher.” Bowie crumbled it up and tossed it back into the can.

“Don’t we all.” He reached for a new note. “What are the rules?”

“You can’t ask for something ridiculous, like a million dollars or a sports car. Most of the wishes are easy to grant, like this one.” She picked up a pink sticky note.

I’d like a dozen heart cookies for my birthday.

Lily Dawson

“Or this one.” She opened the yellow paper.

Please pray for my Daddy. He really needs a job.

“This one is silly but doable.”

Please paste a few stars above your door. I told Jackson that someday he’d kiss me under the stars, but the only place he goes with me is to your bakery in daylight.

Sadie

P.S. This Saturday would be wonderful.

Katie picked up a pair of scissors and cut out a handful of stars.

“You started this?”

“When I was little. I wished for a lot of things. Things I didn’t have a right to wish for, like becoming a royal or never getting sick again. I got my wish to skip the chicken pox and my parents bought me the Barbie Dream House, but most wishes went unfulfilled. That’s why I started the Wishing Wall.”

Bowie sorted the wishes into piles. One was a prayer pile. One was a silly-but-doable pile. The last one was the almost impossible pile. He would have put Louise Williams’s request in that pile because no one in their right mind would babysit seven kids. Only Katie, and she couldn’t blame that decision on a concussion.

“When I told you I was a sickly child ...” She glanced at him and went back to cutting stars. “I didn’t elaborate, but—”

“It doesn’t matter. I learned long ago not to dwell on the things that can’t be changed.”

“It could matter. What if it changed everything?”

He leaned back in his chair and watched her fidget with the scissors. “Unless you have a terminal disease, nothing you can say will make a difference. What’s the point in talking about the past? It’s the past. What we should talk about is the future.” He handed her a blank sticky note. “If you could wish for anything right now, what would it be?” He plunked a pen into her hand.

She thought for a few minutes and then wrote something quickly. He swiped it from the table before she could hide it from him. On the note, it said,

Pray for me that Bowie Bishop will love me anyway.

He knew the hit on the head had jumbled her brains. Anyway?

He took the pen and scribbled out the word “anyway” and replaced with “always”. He stretched his body across the table and kissed her. “I’ll love you always.”