Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3)

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “A chicken?” She sounded confused. “A girl chicken?”

  I glanced across at her, smiling. “I’m sure it’s a girl. I’ve thought that from the beginning.”

  “Are you going to find out for certain?”

  “I don’t need to. I know she’s a girl and I know she’s perfect.”

  Gabrielle stretched her hand toward me. “The universe told you?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  She put her hand to my stomach. The look on her face was one of sheer wonderment. “I envy you so much.”

  “I’m going to need help, Gabi.” I wasn’t trying to make her feel better. I was speaking the absolute truth. I had no clue what I was doing and wasn’t stubborn enough to pretend otherwise.

  “We’re going to be here for you, Charli,” she promised in a tiny voice. “All babies are blessings.”

  * * *

  “Earth to Charli,” called Nicole, waving her hand in front of my face.

  “Did you say something?” I asked, snapping out of my daydream.

  “I asked you if you want a cup of coffee,” she repeated.

  I’d spent quite a bit of time at the café lately. Being with Nicole gave me a chance to test the friendship waters. I wasn’t entirely sure that there was a place for my traitor ex-best friend in my life, but after all she’d been through I felt as if I at least owed her a chance.

  “No, she doesn’t want any coffee,” chimed Alex, jingling his car keys as he headed toward the door. “It’s not good for the baby. I’ll see you in an hour or two... maybe three.”

  Alex wasn’t quite the workhorse he used to be. Nicole practically ran the place, which I think suited them both. She ran things her way and he cut out to go surfing whenever he pleased.

  “He disappears all the time,” grumbled Nicole as soon as he walked out the door. Her annoyance didn’t seem genuine. Being left to her own devices was hardly a bad thing.

  “Do you still have a thing for him?” I teased. “Do you miss him when he’s gone?”

  Nicole swiped a cloth along the countertop, pretending to clean it. “Alex is hot, Charli. Too bad he’s your daddy.”

  It felt so good to laugh. Staying happy was a coup, because after signing divorce papers, I wasn’t at all hopeful any more.

  I’d received another sign that morning that led me to think my happy ending was slipping out of reach. The rings I’d finally grown into were now getting tight and uncomfortable to wear.

  “It’s probably just temporary,” reasoned Nicole. “You have lots of changes going on in your body right now.”

  I slipped the rings into my pocket and rubbed the red mark on my finger.

  “We’ll see,” I mumbled.

  * * *

  The bell at the top of the door jingled and Wade Davis strutted in, breathing heavily like he’d run all the way from Hobart.

  “Forty-three minutes and twelve seconds,” he announced, pressing a button on his watch.

  “Nice work Wado,” praised Nicole. “That’s a record, isn’t it?”

  “What’s going on?” I whispered from the corner of my mouth.

  “Wade and Jasmine run ten kilometres every morning. They’re quite the fitness freaks,” explained Nicole, winking at me.

  Madness, I thought. I twisted on the stool to get a better look at Wade – and turned back quickly before I permanently damaged my eyesight. He was bobbing up and down in a strange squatting motion, warming down after his run.

  “Gross,” I mouthed, wide eyed and repulsed by his red spandex shorts.

  “Wait until you see Jasmine,” whispered Nicole, grinning.

  I didn’t have to wait long. Jasmine staggered into the café soon after, doubled over and gasping for breath.

  “Well done, babes!” boomed Wade. “Forty-three minutes and fifty-eight seconds.”

  Jasmine’s melodramatic panting sounded positively obscene. “Water, get me water.” Nicole grabbed two bottles of water out of the glass fridge and handed them to the sparkly athletes. “Thank you,” wheezed Jasmine.

  “Do you do this every day?” I asked, too curious for my own good.

  “Beauty is pain, Charli,” explained Wade, raising his left arm and kissing his bicep.

  I covered my mouth to stop myself giggling – or vomiting. I hadn’t decided which. Jasmine pulled out the nearest chair and slumped on it in an unladylike pose. “We’re trying to get super fit before the wedding. We want to look our best.”

  “Of course,” I agreed.

  At that moment Jasmine looked far from her best. Embarking on a long distance run while wearing a full face of makeup didn’t work for her. She looked like a hot, sweaty panda.

  “Adam likes to jog, doesn’t he Charli?” she asked, looking at me through black-rimmed eyes.

  “Yeah,” I replied, unaffected by her intel gathering. “Except in winter. He goes to the gym in winter.”

  “You should think about taking up jogging,” she noted, still a little breathless. “You’re way out of shape these days. It’s sad to see you let yourself go like that.”

  Nicole laughed. I scowled at her but it had no effect.

  “You know, Charli,” began Wade, sauntering toward me. “I can help you out with the few extra kilos you’re carrying. Never misunderestimate the power of exercise.”

  I cleared my throat. “Ah, that’s a very generous offer but I’m going to have to turn you down. I’m enjoying being fat.”

  “Oh I see.” He had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Good for you.”

  Jasmine fervently shook her head. “Well I’m sorry, Charli, but you’re out of the wedding. I can’t possibly have a fat bridesmaid. The photos would be horrible.”

  Nicole returned to the business side of the counter, cackling the whole way. “Were you going to ask Charli to be a bridesmaid? Seriously?”

  Her incredulity was warranted. Jasmine had been my mortal enemy for as long as I could remember. Being an attendant at her wedding beggared belief.

  “Jasmine wants the whole bridal party to be blonde,” interjected Wade. “They’ll match the pink dresses better.” The staid expression on his sweaty face led me to believe he was deadly serious.

  “That’s right,” agreed Jasmine, rolling the lid of her bottle of water between her fingers. “It doesn’t matter, though. I was thinking of asking Penny. Remember her?” I could only think of one girl named Penny. If memory served me correctly, her high school career had been as miserable as ours, thanks to the Beautifuls. “She works at the bait and tackle shop now,” she added. “I love her hair. She has ghastly skin but I think I can work with her.”

  “Doesn’t Penny hate you?” asked Nicole.

  “Why would she hate me?”

  “Er, because you were a bitch to her in school?” Nicole suggested. “You used to call her Pensioner Penny.”

  “She wore corduroy!” snapped Jasmine. “No one wears corduroy!”

  “Calm down, babes. You’ll get frown lines.” Wade put a protective arm around her.

  A chuckle escaped me, which I masked with a cough. I didn’t dare glance at Nicole. One smirk from her would have had me on the floor in hysterics.

  “Anyway, I’ve changed, Nicole,” spat Jasmine, holding her left hand in the air and pointing at her ring. “I’m freaking engaged now.”

  And to Jasmine Tate, that meant everything. Finding a man who believed she was worthy of marrying was her idea of success. It was that small town mentality that I’d spent a lifetime running from.

  Some days, the decision to come back to Pipers Cove made no sense at all.

  February 23

  Adam

  With the exception of Ryan and the hot little blonde that turned up at our door looking for him, I hadn’t spoken to a real person in two days – and I’m not sure that she counted. I was beginning to think I was going mad. I had to get out of the apartment.

  I spent the next few hours torturing myself with a run through the park. The freezing air burned m
y lungs, but it was a good kind of pain, far different from the pining-to-death agony I normally suffered from. I was at the top of the Wollman rink, adjusting the cleats on my shoes, when someone screeched my name.

  I spun to see Bente’s sister barrelling toward me. I used the time it took her to reach me to try and remember her name. I came up blank so I greeted her little girl instead. Fabergé wasn’t an easy name to forget.

  “I’m getting ice-cream,” announced Fabergé.

  “Great,” I replied, working hard to smile.

  “No, she’s not,” said her mother.

  Fabergé let out a scream that made me flinch. It ended when her mother put her hand over her mouth. I almost thanked her for it.

  “You look like crap,” said the woman, looking me up and down.

  “I’ve been running,” I defended. “No one looks good when they’re running.”

  “No, it’s more than that,” she countered. “The single life isn’t treating you well. You look heartbroken.”

  I wondered what heartbreak looked like. My condition was much more severe – possibly even terminal. I was suffering full mind and body break. I probably looked like death.

  “So, how have you been?” I asked, shifting the conversation.

  “So-so.” She moved her hand away from Faberge’s mouth and patted her stomach. “It’s not easy being pregnant when you have a four-year-old running around.”

  I hadn’t even noticed until she pointed it out. Once she had, I couldn’t help staring at her stomach.

  “Well, congratulations,” I offered.

  “Thanks.”

  A strange feeling of sadness gripped me as I stole another glance at her belly. I tortured myself trying to imagine how Charli would’ve looked pregnant – and then wondered why.

  “Ah, I have to go,” I stammered.

  “Okay,” she said nodding. “Take care of yourself, Adam.”

  I said goodbye to Fabergé and took off running.

  * * *

  I was in a complete funk. I’d given up everything I loved for a life that was now strangling me. I had no idea what to do about it.

  I must’ve been completely downtrodden because I found myself confiding in my brother while he was preparing dinner.

  “What’s Bente’s sister’s name?” I asked, pulling up a stool at the island counter.

  “Ivy.” He spat out her name. “She hates me.”

  “I saw her today. She’s pregnant.”

  Ryan took a break from chopping vegetables to look at me and smirk. “That might calm her down a bit.”

  “I think about it a lot,” I said randomly. “Charli, I mean.”

  Ryan grimaced. “Why would you even go there?”

  I absently twisted my wedding ring off my finger and spun it on the counter. “What if we made a mistake?”

  It was unfair to imply that both of us had got it wrong. Charlotte had done her very best to change my mind a hundred times. I was to blame for the loss, not her.

  He groaned as if I’d said something ridiculous. “You can’t go back. You’re going to have to find a way of getting past this.”

  I slipped the ring back on my finger. “I hate myself, Ryan,” I admitted. “So freaking much.”

  My brother set the knife on the counter, staring at me for an uncomfortably long time. “I know.”

  I don’t cry. I’m not a crier, but at that point total despair consumed me. My chest constantly ached and I could barely think straight. It was an incredible release to actually let my guard down, hang my head and fall apart. “I’ve lost everything.”

  Ryan walked around the counter. “I’m not going to tell you that it’s going to get easier,” he said, kneading the nape of my neck, “but eventually, you’ll get better at dealing with it.”

  I wanted nothing more than to believe him, but at that moment, recovery seemed impossible. The only thing worse than the damage I’d done to myself was the thought of what I’d done to Charli.

  It was a pain I deserved to suffer for the rest of my existence.

  February 24

  Charli

  Inviting Gabrielle to accompany me to the doctor’s office that morning was purely tactical. Alex had begged me to cut her some slack. If it made living with her more bearable, I was happy to help him out. “She’s just trying to find her place, Charli,” he told me. “She’s not sure where she fits in with all of this.”

  I really couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t entirely sure where she fit in either. The step-grandmother of my kid was also her first cousin once removed.

  Visits to the doctor were a necessary evil. Being poked and prodded was invasive and sometimes cringeworthy. Having Gabrielle there didn’t help.

  “Your body is on loan, Charli,” she told me over and over. “Do the best for your baby.”

  “I am,” I replied.

  “You eat cereal for dinner!”

  Usually I’d bite back, but pregnancy had gifted me a skill that had eluded me my whole life. I was a lot more even-tempered and level-headed these days.

  Gabrielle declined my offer to come inside when she dropped me back at the cottage. When I heard a knock at the door just a few minutes later, I thought she’d changed her mind. I quickly gave the dining table a wipe over with my sleeve and made my way to the door.

  It wasn’t the Parisienne. It was Flynn Davis.

  “Hello, Charli,” he said meekly. “How are you?”

  I knew the upcoming conversation by heart.

  “Fine, thanks. How are you?”

  “Good. I’m good. Do you like fish, Charli?”

  I was impressed. He’d changed his game plan. He’d never used the fish angle to ask me out on a date before.

  “Yes, I love fish. It’s brain food,” I replied.

  “I just picked up some beautiful salmon from my Grandpa this morning. There’s far too much for one person. I thought maybe we could split it.”

  I have no explanation for the next words out of my mouth. “How about you come for dinner and let me cook it for you?” I offered.

  He nearly fell over. “I’d really like that. Does tonight suit you?”

  “Ah, sure,” I stammered, a little off-guard. “Tonight will be fine.”

  I wanted to set ground rules. I wanted to him to be clear that I was offering him dinner and nothing more, but there was no kind way of putting it into words.

  When Alex turned up later that afternoon, I considered sending him next door to play the heavy-handed father. If anyone could let Flynn know exactly where he stood, it was Alex. But of course I didn’t. True to form, I didn’t mention it.

  * * *

  Flynn arrived right on time, with a plate of fresh salmon in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He made me laugh by thrusting both at me as soon as I opened the door, which did nothing to quell his skittishness.

  “Smooth, Flynn,” he muttered, chastising himself.

  “Come in, please.” I held the door open with my foot.

  “I hope the wine’s okay,” he said, following me through to the kitchen. “Jasmine assured me that this is the best pinot noir they’ve produced in years.”

  “I’m sure it’s lovely.” I pretended to study the label. “I’m not much of a wine buff, though.”

  “Oh. You don’t like wine?”

  I shook my head falsely. Ordinarily, I had no problem with wine. The prospect of foetal alcohol syndrome was the problem.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I should’ve brought something different.”

  I found Flynn’s tendency to apologise for every little thing annoying. His impeccably neat, perfectly pressed clothes also grated. It was most unfair. Flynn had never been anything but super nice to me. Perhaps that was the problem.

  I grabbed a corkscrew and handed it to him. “I’ll let you do the honours. If I do it, you’ll spend the evening picking bits of cork out of your glass.”

  “It seems a shame to open it if I’m the only one drinking.”

  “I’m
sure Jasmine can get her hands on more.”

  “You don’t like her much, do you?” he asked.

  “We have a long and colourful history,” I replied, more than willing to leave it at that. “How do you feel about her marrying your brother?”

  Flynn shrugged. “He loves her. They’re similar creatures, a good match.”

  My giggle sounded positively wicked. “How very diplomatic of you.”

  He pulled the cork and I slid a glass along the counter.

  I was glad Flynn had brought wine. After a few glasses he loosened up, which made conversation easier. I kept the focus on him, unwilling to let him know too much about me. Keeping my distance was important. I’d spent weeks keeping him at bay. The last thing I wanted was to appear interested in anything more than a casual dinner.

  I managed to do Norm’s salmon justice by poaching it to perfection, and the company was surprisingly good. Hosting dinner parties had never been my forte but I pulled it off.

  Partying into the night had never been my forte either, especially lately. By ten o’clock, feeling absolutely shattered, I was ushering Flynn and a plate over leftover fish out the door.

  * * *

  Clearing the air with Nicole was good for my soul, and my social life. When she called me the next morning to suggest hanging out for the day, I jumped at the chance. I was bustling around, still getting ready when she arrived.

  “Hello,” she called, through the mesh of the screen door.

  “Hey.”

  She walked in, carrying a massive floral arrangement. “I’ve brought you a present.”

  “Flowers?” Coming from her, I thought it was bizarre.

  She walked over to the table and set the flowers down. “Relax, they’re not from me. They were on the doorstep. Maybe they’re from Adam.” Adam would never send me flowers. He knew better. I began fossicking through the bunch looking for a card. “It’s here,” said Nicole, plucking it out of the centre.

  “They’re from Flynn.” I tossed the card on the table.

  Nicole lurched forward and picked it up, taking it upon herself to read it out loud. “Because I woke up thinking of you,” she read, making me cringe. “Wow. That’s a bit full on, isn’t it?”