Secret North

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “Hey Ma.”

  She rushed over, shushing me. “The girls are asleep.” She pointed at the couch. Bridget and Charli were tangled up together looking remarkably peaceful.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, looking back at Adam. “I just came to see how Bridge is.”

  Mom brought me up to speed. “She had a nasty fright but she’s going to be fine. She just needs rest.”

  “Charli didn’t sleep last night,” added Adam. “They both just need sleep.”

  “And how are you?” I asked.

  He ruffled his hand through his messy hair. “I didn’t sleep much either.”

  “Would coffee help?”

  Adam almost smiled. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.”

  Mom had no problem with holding the fort for a while. It gave her purpose in an otherwise hopeless situation. “Of course, darlings,” she said softly. “I’ll keep an eye on the girls. If they wake, I have cookies for them.”

  I hoped for their sakes they slept the rest of the day.

  Adam kissed her cheek. “Je suis bien content que tu sois ici, Maman,” he murmured.

  “Where else would I be?” she asked, straightening his collar.

  ***

  Gabrielle’s apartment was cramped at the best of times, but when there were more than two people in it, it felt like an overcrowded bus shelter on a rainy day. Getting out of there brought instant relief. We didn’t walk far, opting to stop at the first café we came across. Clearly it was one of Adam’s local haunts. The barista greeted him by name.

  We sat at a small table near the window, mostly in silence. Adam was probably enjoying the quiet, but I found it awkward.

  “Have you put any more thought into your job situation?” I asked, grasping for conversation.

  “There is no situation,” he replied. “I quit, effective immediately.”

  “You told him already?”

  Adam grinned wryly. “Yeah, and you’re back to being favourite son.”

  I shifted uncomfortably, unhappy that I’d regained pole position that way. “Was he mad?”

  “You might say that,” he replied indifferently. “I got the same lecture I always get. My wife is my downfall, I’m setting a terrible example for my child and I’ll never amount to anything.” He picked up a spoon and scraped the foam off his coffee.

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “I don’t care. None of it matters. As long as Bridget is okay, everything is fine.”

  “I’m so sorry for what happened,” I said for the millionth time.

  Adam grimaced. “Ryan, unless you tell me you pushed her, I don’t want to hear sorry from you again. It was an accident. Accidents happen.”

  I might as well have pushed her. I’d metaphorically given her a shove. It seemed like a good a time as any to confess. “She was jumping off the furniture at my place yesterday. We had words.”

  Adam obviously knew there was more to it. He stared me down from across the table, waiting for an explanation.

  “I was angry and my mouth got the better of me.”

  “What did you say?”

  I rehashed the whole sorry tale, ending with the most damaging part. “I told her there was no such thing as magic and that her mother’s stories are a crock.”

  His cool expression morphed into a pissed-off frown. I wasn’t surprised by the turn. “Why would you do that?” He sounded calm, but wasn’t. “She’s four years old, Ryan.”

  “And I want her to live to see five,” I defended. “You can’t have her jumping –”

  “It’s not even about the jumping,” he interrupted. “Why didn’t you go the whole hog and enlighten her about Santa and the Easter Bunny while you were at it?”

  I shook my head. “I know I shouldn’t have said anything. It was a mistake.”

  “It’s not me you’re going to have to convince. Charlotte is going to kill you,” he warned. “And I’m not sure that I’ll stop her.”

  I should’ve been eating my dose of humble pie and accepting that I’d done wrong but my mouth kicked in again. “Charli needs a reality check too. If she keeps filling Bridget’s head with nonsense, she’s going to make her crazy.”

  “That’s not your call to make,” he angrily replied, drumming his forefinger on the table. “Charli’s not stupid, Ryan.”

  “I said crazy, not stupid,” I clarified. “There’s a difference.”

  Adam pushed his cup away. If I’d put him off coffee, things were really dire. “Look, Bridget has a lifetime of harsh reality ahead of her,” he began. “I’m her dad. I want her to stay little forever, but eventually she’s going to grow up and meet a jerk just like me.” He grimaced at the sight of me. “Or worse, someone like you.” I reined in my smile, acutely aware that it was an inappropriate reaction. “He’s going to promise her everything and deliver nothing,” he added. “He’s going to break her heart over and over, and there will be nothing I can do about it. I want her to have a happy heart, Ryan. La La Land is where it’s at for now.”

  Not any more. Even if Bridget did manage to hang on to her faith, I knew she had to at least be questioning it. “Do you think I should mention it to Charli?” I asked. “I will if you want me to.”

  Adam pulled his coffee back. “No. She has enough to deal with at the moment. Just wait and see what happens.”

  It wasn’t the first time someone had alluded to Charli having a full plate. I wasn’t in a position to demand an explanation, but I tried anyway. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”

  His blank stare lasted for an uncomfortably long time. “No,” he said eventually. “Everything is fine.”

  66. ONE DAY

  Bente

  When drama hits the Décarie family, it does so with the force of a freight train. Adam had quit his job, earning the wrath of his father. Escape was impossible, but lying low was Adam and Charli’s plan. We hadn’t seen them or Bridget in over a week.

  Ryan didn’t seem concerned by the fact that they’d fallen off the radar, but that was because he had avoidance issues. He knew Charli would be furious over his little misplaced heart-to-heart with Bridget, but in typical Ryan style he played it down.

  “Adam wanted more time with Bridget and Charli,” he explained. “He’s unemployed and making the most of it, that’s all.”

  I didn’t press the issue. Fiona was doing enough of that for all of us. Jean-Luc was on the warpath and the queen was trying hard to keep her family together. “He won’t take his father’s calls,” she confided. “It breaks my heart.” I couldn’t blame Adam and Charli for wanting to step off for a while. I’d been feeling like doing the same thing for weeks. I wished I were as brave as them.

  “Just give them some time, Mom,” urged Ryan. “They just want some time together. If one gets hurt, they all get hurt. They’re a tight little family.”

  The queen was unimpressed. “We’re all family,” she said angrily. “Adam would do well to remember that. I miss Bridget terribly.”

  “So do I,” admitted Ryan.

  Hanging out with Bridget was good for Ryan. She slowed him down to a pace that I could keep up with. Without her, he slipped back into a manic schedule that he couldn’t possibly enjoy. Long, lazy mornings in bed were now a distant memory. Lazy everythings were a distant memory. Work at the club was in full force, and he made a point of showing up every single day. I took heart in the fact that it would be temporary. When Adam was back on board, Ryan could take a step back.

  I visited the club most days, but not to check out the renovations. Tiger Malone was proving to be a perfect distraction from the drama overtaking our lives. I’d spent many hours over the past week, scribbling until my hand ached, trying desperately to capture the wild and sometimes implausible stories he told me. Any nervousness I had about my ability to construct a print worthy article for the Tribune was long gone. Tiger Malone was a writer’s dream.

  ***

  Now that she was temporarily one son down and her grand
daughter was off limits, Fiona threw herself into the wedding. The plans for our big day were spiralling further out of control with every passing day.

  “It’s not that bad, surely,” reasoned Ryan.

  “Ry, we’re having a champagne fountain at the reception,” I retorted. “It’s madness.”

  “Wow.” He screwed up his handsome face. “Tacky.”

  I agreed a hundred percent. Fiona had impeccable style, which led me to think the fountain was my sister’s doing. But it wasn’t worth questioning. If I kicked up about the fountain, there would be no stopping me.

  I had a million wedding-related gripes, and I had no one to blame but myself. I’d given Ivy and Fiona free run weeks ago. My punishment for lack of enthusiasm was being forced to star in an over-the-top gala event that I had no interest in attending.

  “It’s only ten days away,” I said, thinking out loud.

  Ryan wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear. “And then we get our lives back.”

  I twisted to get a better look at the sewing area in the corner of the living room. The three small red bridesmaid dresses were all glitzed up and good to go. My dress was hidden under a sheet. It wasn’t a tactic to hide it from Ryan – I was hiding it from myself.

  Ivy had worked incredibly hard. Hundreds of hours had gone into hand sewing each bead and button. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it now looked nothing like my vision. I dreaded the thought of wearing it, and it took huge effort not to let my disappointment show every time she made me try it on. “I’m going to look like one of Tiger’s cocktail waitresses, Ryan,” I bleakly warned.

  He kissed my neck. “You’ll be beautiful,” he mumbled. “Sparkly and beautiful.”

  Every time the subject of the wedding was raised, I wished Ryan would reconsider my suggestion to call it off, but he never did. “It’s one day,” he kept repeating. “It’ll make our mothers happy and we’ll be married.”

  I didn’t even know what my mother’s take on it would be. We hadn’t spoken since I told her I was engaged. All I knew was that they were due to arrive in New York the day before the wedding, and were leaving the day after. I wondered why they were bothering at all, but like everything else, I didn’t question it.

  67. THIEF

  Ryan

  I missed Bridget more than I let on, and tortured myself by wondering if she missed me too. Adam had completely wiped Dad off, and rightly so. The king was hurt and disappointed, which seemed to be the only time he was capable of putting his feelings into words. Charli bore the brunt of it, and if there was one thing Adam wouldn’t tolerate it was Tinker Bell bashing.

  I wasn’t part of the communication ban, but phone calls were so awkward that I gave up. I still didn’t have a clear take on how Charli had taken the news that I’d burst Bridget’s fae bubble, and was too cowardly to ask. Waiting for them to come to us was my plan, and it happened ten days after Bridget’s fall.

  Bridget was coming over for her final dress fitting. Ivy arrived early to add the finishing touches, but had the good sense to leave the squealers at home, acutely aware of my niece’s dislike for Malibu. “Unless she’s had a growth spurt it should be okay,” said Ivy, brushing her hand down the dress.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I mumbled. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  Bente sidled up beside me. “She’s probably going to be bouncing off the walls when she sees you,” she said encouragingly. “I’m sure she’s missed you.”

  It was a sweet notion, but not true. The little girl who turned up at my door wasn’t bouncing at all. Thanks to me, her bounce was gone. I didn’t even get one of her famous leg hugs. I got nothing but a tiny little hello.

  And it killed me.

  I got even less from her mother. Charli made a beeline for Ivy and Bente, completely ignoring me. Bente gave me a tiny smile that was probably designed to be supportive. I tried to smile back.

  In just a few minutes, the dress was on and Bridget was glammed up like a little doll.

  “Do you like it?” Ivy asked the little girl.

  “A little bit,” she replied, looking down. “I like diamonds.”

  “You’ve done a great job, Ivy,” praised Charli, almost sounding believable.

  Bridget turned to me. “Do you like it, Ry?” Her tiny voice had never sounded sweeter.

  “I do,” I replied smiling. “I think it’s lovely.”

  “Can I take it off now?”

  Charli helped her out of her dress and hung it back on the mannequin. The tension in the room was crippling. Even Ivy picked up on it. She made a few excuses to leave and practically bolted out the door. I’d never known her to move so quickly.

  As soon as Bridget had her own clothes on, she wandered over to her toybox, presumably to check on her girls. “I haven’t been playing with them,” promised Bente, holding her hand to her heart. “I’m sure they missed you.”

  Bridget shrugged. “You can play with them if you want to, Bente.”

  “How about you stay and play with them for a while?” I suggested. I switched on the coffee machine. “I’ll make your mama coffee and you can play.”

  The whole conversation was painful. It felt contrived and unnatural and pointless. Bente must’ve picked up on my hopelessness. She walked over, took Bridget by the hand and suggested they go for a walk. She looked at Charli. “We’ll be back soon, okay?”

  Charli replied with a stiff nod.

  They took none of the tension with them when they slipped out the door. I was glad I was on the opposite side of the counter. It offered me the protection I was sure I was about to need. Charli looked as angry as I’d ever seen her.

  “Are you mad at me?” I foolishly asked.

  “You know I am,” she replied, pulling out a stool.

  “I wasn’t trying to cause trouble, Charli,” I muttered. “Honestly.”

  She didn’t take her eyes off me as she sat down. “She’s not yours, Ryan,” she said simply.

  “Pardon?”

  “Bridget isn’t yours.”

  I almost smiled. “Well that’s good to know. You had me questioning the laws of nature for a second.”

  “I feel the need to remind you of that,” she said seriously. “Maybe it will stop you trying to parent her.”

  Maintaining eye contact with her suddenly became impossible. I dropped my head and allowed her to continue verbally thrashing me. It was the least I could do.

  “You stole something from me,” she accused. “And for the life of me, I don’t know how to get it back.”

  The only thing worse than dealing with Charli while she was angry was dealing with her when she was crazy. “Help me out, Charli,” I said. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She pulled in a long breath, steadying herself before she explained. “Adam connected with Bridget straight away. As soon as she was born, he just knew what he was doing.” She clicked her fingers. “It was as if he’d been waiting for her all along. It took me a lot longer to find my feet.”

  I couldn’t link what she was telling me to the conversation at hand, but played along anyway. “You’re a good mom, Charli.”

  “Some days I am,” she retorted. “And some days I have no clue what I’m doing. You want to know why I think that is?”

  I looked at her, which was all the encouragement she needed to continue.

  “I had no mother, Ryan. How am I supposed to know what the hell I’m doing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “My connection to Bridget isn’t going to the park or speaking French or reading books,” she added. “It’s the stories that my dad gave me. That’s how I connect with her, and that’s how he connected with me.”

  I struggled to come up with a defence that wasn’t going to get me killed. For some reason I still felt the need to get my point across. “She knocked herself out trying to fly, Charli,” I reminded her. “You can’t possibly think that’s okay.”

  She put both hands flat on the counter, prob
ably to stop herself lurching forward and ripping my throat out. “Perhaps if you hadn’t stolen her wings she might’ve done it.”

  “Wings?” I asked incredulously. “You think I stole her wings?”

  She could not possibly be serious. Now that she was spouting foolishness, I could feel my contrition slipping.

  “We all lose them eventually, Ryan,” she said quietly. “The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.”

  I was in no position to be getting angry with her, but it was impossible not to. “Don’t preach fairy nonsense to me,” I demanded.

  “It’s from Peter Pan, idiot.”

  “That doesn’t make it any more credible.”

  She shook her head and groaned. “You just don’t get it. I’m not crazy. I know the difference between a fairy-tale and real life, but what if there’s the tiniest ring of truth to it?”

  I put serious thought into her question. I owed her that much. “Impossible,” I finally concluded.

  “Deny it all you want to, Ryan, but one day something extraordinary is going to happen and you’re not going to be able to explain it away,” she told me. “You won’t think it’s impossible then. You’re going to think it’s magic. I just hope I’m around to see it.”

  “If you’re not, I’ll be sure to call you.”

  In a move that looked like defeat, her posture crumpled. “Whatever, Ryan.”

  “Look, I’m sorry for what I told Bridget,” I said sincerely. “I overstepped the mark and I shouldn’t have. If you want me to talk to her about it, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want me to to make things right.”

  Charli sadly shook her head. “Short of giving her her wings back, I don’t know how you can.”

  “I’m not going to encourage the kid to fly,” I shot back. “She’s going to really hurt herself.”

  “Wings aren’t literal, Ryan!” she shouted. “Of course she can’t fly, but it hurts me to think she knows it so soon.”

  The position I’d put myself in was a bleak one. There was no way I could make it up to Bridget, or to Charli for that matter. “Is she mad at me?”