Three Wishes by Barbara Delinsky Page B

nice.
    Odd, but the Tom Gates she knew seemed perfectly nice.
    Releasing a breath, she put her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. She remembered those articles in detail. Thomas Gates was reputed to be callous and conceited, but she hadn’t seen either trait in him, and as for being the womanizer the articles implied, he hadn’t womanized in Panama. He hadn’t come on to her as had other men in the diner, hadn’t leered or teased or touched her in inappropriate ways.
    Footsteps came from the hall, and suddenly he was there. Thinking she might have imagined him, she blinked, but he remained.
    She hadn’t wished him there. She was being careful not to make wishes accidentally. But she was inordinately pleased that he’d come.
    â€œHi,” he said. Backlit as he was, she couldn’t see his face, but his voice was gentle, smiling.
    Her heart beat a little faster. She smiled back. “Hi.”
    â€œWalk all the way down here yourself?”
    â€œUh-huh.” Dryly, she added, “It took everything I had.”
    He made a show of looking around. “No more IV. That’s progress.”
    â€œUh-huh. I had solid food for dinner. Chicken.”
    â€œBet it wasn’t as good as Flash’s.”
    â€œNo. But that’s okay. I was full after two bites.” She felt revived now that he had come. “Want to turn on a light?”
    â€œNot if you prefer the dark.”
    â€œI don’t.”
    He slipped a hand under the shade of a nearby lamp. The soft light that filled the room made him real, in an unreal sort of way. He was gorgeous, with his tousled hair and his athlete’s build, and he was there.
    â€œI didn’t think you were coming,” she said.
    â€œI promised I would. You just slept through the promise.”
    No. She had heard. Then she had wondered if she had simply dreamed it up because she wanted it so much. “I thought you might go home and think about it and decide I was loony.”
    â€œIf you are, then so are a hell of a lot of other people.” He lowered a leather knapsack from his shoulder at the same time that he lowered himself to a chair. The knapsack settled on the floor between his knees. He unstrapped the top and pulled out a folder that was a solid inch thick. “Printouts from my computer. They’re personal accounts of other people who have experienced what you did.”
    Bree’s heart beat even faster than before. She looked from the folder to Tom and back. She didn’t know whether to be more pleased that there were others like her or that Tom had made the effort of seeking them out.
    The first took precedence. Taking the folder from him, she put it on her lap and covered it with a proprietary hand. Cautiously, she asked, “Did you read them?”
    â€œEvery one.”
    â€œWhat do they say?”
    â€œMuch of what you do,” he answered gently. He had his elbows on his thighs. His hands dangled between. “An accident or a medical crisis occurs. The victim is conscious of leaving his body, rising up above it, and looking back down. Sometimes it happens at the scene of the accident, sometimes in an operating room. He sees people working on him, hears their voices. Then there’s the light. It’s always very bright. It’s always benevolent. It conveys a sense of well-being. It speaks without actually talking.”
    â€œIt did,” Bree breathed, delighted. She hadn’t realized how alone she had felt until she suddenly felt less so. “What else?” She put her fingertips together in front of her mouth and tried to contain her excitement.
    â€œThere’s a lot of the same uncertainty that you feel. The person knows he’s had an out-of-body experience, but he’s still not sure.”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œHe knows people don’t believe him, but he can’t forget what happened. He’s afraid to talk about it. Some