A Hundred Wishes

I had no idea how much time had passed when I finally heard the sound of an engine in the distance.

The rescue boat was coming back.

A lump formed in my throat. Somehow, my numb arms found their strength again.

"Mom! I'm over here!"

The figures at the front of the boat grew clearer as it approached. Mom was holding a clean blanket.

The sight of it made me smile. They hadn't forgotten me after all.

I'd already decided I wouldn't ask why they'd rescued my sister, Alana Fisher, first. As long as Mom wrapped that blanket around me and held me for a moment, I'd pretend none of it had ever happened.

But halfway toward me, the rescue boat suddenly changed course.

Not far away, Biscuit's faint whimpers carried from a section of a floating dock that had broken loose in the waves. His leash was tangled around a piece of broken railing, and the whole platform looked like it could flip at any moment.

Alana immediately jumped to her feet and grabbed the rescuer's arm, sobbing, "Get my dog first! He can't swim! He's always been terrified of water. He'll die if he falls in!"

The rescuer frowned and pointed toward me. "There's still someone in the water. Isn't that your sister? The girl who fell in with you?"

Alana froze for a second. Then she shook her head. "She's not my sister. She's our housekeeper."

Across the churning water, I stared at Mom and Dad, waiting for them to correct her. All I wanted was for one of them to say, "She's our daughter."

But Mom looked away.

Dad urged the rescuer on impatiently, "Corinne can swim, and she's got a flotation board. She'll be fine for now."

The rescuer still hesitated. "She's really not your daughter?"

This time, Mom answered, "No. She's been with our family for years. She helps out around the house. Just get the dog first. You can come back for her afterward."

Her casual words carried across the waves.

And suddenly, I remembered when Alana was twelve, she'd told our parents that all her classmates envied only children. She wanted to be Mom and Dad's only daughter, too.

So my parents used one of their wish coupons. From that day on, I wasn't allowed to call them Mom and Dad anymore.

The first time I slipped up, Mom's expression turned cold. "You promised we'd grant your sister's wish. Don't call me Mom."

After that, I learned to call them Mr. and Mrs. Fisher.

Even when I was sick and burning up with fever, too delirious to think straight, I never dared call her Mom again.

That wish coupon was only supposed to last for a year, but when the year was over, no one ever told me I could call them Mom and Dad again.

Little by little, Alana really did become their only daughter.

And I became the person who did the laundry, cooked the meals, and cleaned the house without even being allowed to call my own parents Mom and Dad.

I never imagined that years later, they would actually stand in front of a stranger and tell him I was their housekeeper.

The rescue boat turned away from me and headed toward the floating platform where Biscuit was stranded.

Instinct took over. I forced my arm into the air, desperately trying to make them see me.

Then a wave crashed over me and shoved me beneath the surface again.

By the time I fought my way back up, Dad had already lifted Biscuit onto the boat. Mom immediately unfolded the blanket in her arms and carefully wrapped it around his soaked body.

The blanket I'd thought she had brought for me was for Alana's dog.