Saving Wishes (The Wishes Series)

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “Are we hiding today or are we going public?”

  It was a fair question. I was more than happy to keep him all to myself. The fact that I wasn’t at school would set tongues wagging anyway. Hiding was just delaying the inevitable, but I wasn’t ready to throw us under the bus just yet.

  “We’re definitely hiding.”

  “Okay then. How about you take me to the hardware store? It’s supposed to be on the main street. I’ve driven up and down a hundred times but haven’t managed to find it.”

  The Pipers Cove shopping precinct consisted of a handful of shops along main road. Window-shopping was hardly an all-day event. Even the most serious shopper could browse all the shops in less than an hour, which made missing the hardware store frustrating for him.

  “You should have asked Gabrielle for directions,” I suggested, trying to keep a straight face.

  “I did. She told me it was on the main street and then laughed,” he griped.

  Unable to keep a straight face any longer, I giggled. Adam glanced across at me, mumbling something in French.

  “I’ll take you there,” I promised.

  11. Sparkly Things

  Following my directions, Adam pulled into an angled parking bay in front of the shops on the main road.

  “Are you sure this is a hardware store?” he asked.

  It took great effort to keep my tone serious. “Would I lie to you?”

  “I apologise,” he said insincerely. “The sign on the roof confused me.” He ducked his head to look up through the windscreen at the huge sign mounted on the roof. “Floss Davis. Master Jeweller.”

  Everyone in town knew where Norm Davis’s hardware shop was located, which was fortunate because the only hint of what he sold was the wheelbarrow out the front, filled with a mass of pansies. His wife Floss’s jewellery business was extremely well represented by a massive sign that nearly buckled the roof.

  I dragged Adam inside.

  “Did I hear voices?” boomed Floss from down the back of the shop. She appeared a few seconds later and Adam flinched. Floss’s wild curly hair was a very unnatural shade of red, and she wore a brightly coloured striped smock – free flowing and loose but doing very little to hide her size. She pulled me in close, shaking me like a rag doll as she hugged me.

  “It’s been so long,” she crooned. “I’ll make us some tea. I want to hear all your news.” She was speaking to me but looking at Adam – who obviously was the news.

  “Floss, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Adam Décarie.”

  Floss shook Adam’s hand so enthusiastically I feared his arm might fall off. “Well, now. It’s always nice to meet a friend of Charli’s.”

  She looked Adam up and down and I silently dared her to find fault. I knew she wouldn’t. Floss Davis was a good soul.

  “Adam is restoring an old boat. We came to get supplies,” I explained.

  “Fabulous. I’ll get Norm,” she said, just before turning around and screaming out his name.

  The beaded curtain separating the store from the back office rattled violently and Norm came running down the aisle. Unlike Floss, Norman Davis was fairly nondescript. Much slighter than his wife, he wore a flannelette shirt and moleskin pants. It was token attire for any country shopkeeper – except Alex, who wouldn’t be caught dead in flannelette.

  He announced his arrival by clapping his hands together. “What can I get you kids today? Two for the price of one on shovels, in case you’re interested.”

  “Ah, no,” I said, thrusting Adam forward. “I’ll let Adam explain.”

  Norm placed a firm hand on his shoulder and marched him down the aisle, repeating the two-for-one offer on shovels.

  Norm was either extremely knowledgeable or a great salesman. I sat drinking tea with Floss at the tiny jewellery counter at the front of the store, watching Adam through the window as he walked to the car laden with enough supplies to build a boat from scratch.

  “He’s easy on the eyes, isn’t he?” whispered Floss, leaning across the counter.

  My head dropped, embarrassed that I’d been caught staring at him.

  “What’s the story Charli?”

  Maybe I was acting stranger than usual. Perhaps the Décarie effect was more powerful that I’d thought. I told Floss everything, and when I finished that tale, I spilled the beans on Alex and his Parisienne. There was no reason not to confide in her. Floss Davis was the trustworthiest person I knew.

  “I knew there was something going on,” she said. “That tiny slip of a French girl! Amazing.”

  “Do you know Gabrielle?”

  “She comes in occasionally for canvas and turpentine. She’s an artist, I think.”

  “A very talented one,” I confirmed.

  “Well, she has fantastic taste in men.”

  A bad case of the giggles overtook me. If the Beautifuls were members of Alex’s fan club, Floss was the president, but much less scary and with a heart of pure gold.

  When Adam walked in, looking far more settled than when he left, Floss effortlessly pulled him into the conversation. “Did you get everything you need?” she asked, pouring him a cup of tea from the gaudy teapot.

  “Yes, Ma’am. Thank you.”

  She squinted. “I detect an accent.”

  “American.”

  “No, something else,” she accused.

  “French?” He sounded like he wasn’t completely sure.

  I cringed. I’d just got through telling her everything about Adam – including the fact he was the tiny-slip-of-a-French-girl’s cousin.

  “Yes! Of course!” she replied, excitedly.

  Adam glanced at me from the corner of his eye as Floss launched into a long monologue. I was the worst French pupil that ever lived, but even I knew that not a word out of her mouth was French. She looked at Adam, anticipating a reply.

  “Ah, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t understand a thing you said.”

  Floss slapped both hands down on the counter, so hard that I thought that the rings she was wearing were going to crack the glass. “What part of France did you say you were from?”

  “Marseille,” he replied, sounding a little frightened again.

  Floss threw her head back in a bray of loud laughter. “Well, that explains it. We clearly speak different French.”

  Adam stared wide-eyed at her for a long moment, probably trying to gage whether she was serious. “Yes. We speak different French.” He spoke slowly and the imbecilic choice of words was very unlike him.

  She reached out and patted his hand, soothing him as if he’d done something wrong. “It’s okay, darling.”

  I couldn’t help laughing, and something about my laugh set Floss off. She stretched across the counter, crushing me against her huge bosom in a hug. She finally released me, but only to pinch my cheeks.

  “Have you ever seen a prettier girl, Adam?” she crowed.

  Adam looked straight at me. “No, Ma’am. I never have.”

  My cheeks burned, possibly due to embarrassment but more likely because of the way she’d pinched me.

  Not another person entered the shop in the next half hour – including Norm. The phone ringing was the only reason Floss finally excused herself from our impromptu tea party.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” she ordered, pointing at us as she shuffled backward down the aisle.

  As soon as she was gone, Adam tipped his tea into a pot plant near the counter. “I think I’ve just met your number one fan, besides me of course.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty great. Alex used to bring me here when I was little. Floss would sit me up here on the counter to show me the jewellery.” I tapped my finger on the glass top. “He used to freak out, worried that I’d fall through it.”

  He peered down. “Is this the whole collection?” The glass cabinet wouldn’t have been more than a metre wide. I nodded. “And this warrants the huge sign out the front?” he asked, whispering as if someone was listening.

 
; “Sparkly things trump shovels, Adam. These are special,” I replied, making him laugh.

  “You think everything is special.” His tone was sympathetic. Perhaps he felt sorry for me.

  “It’s true,” I insisted. “Take that one for instance.” I pointed through the glass to a silver filigree ring with a dark blue stone. “Sapphires have been treasured for thousands of years. The ancient Persians believed that the earth rested on a giant sapphire and its reflection is what coloured the sky.”

  “No kidding?” he asked. His blue eyes were suddenly wide and bright.

  “I kid you not. And diamonds, well let me tell you about diamonds,” I said theatrically, sweeping across my forehead with the back of my hand, pretending to swoon. “When diamonds are set in gold and worn on the left side…” I pointed to my ring finger. “They’re supposed to have the power to ward off devils and drive away nightmares. And when a house or garden is touched at each corner with a diamond it’s supposed to be protected from storms and lightning.”

  Adam seemed awed by my trivia. “You, Charlotte Blake, are extraordinary.”

  “The purple stones are amethyst,” I continued, tapping my finger on the glass. “Leonardo Da Vinci wrote that amethyst was able to make evil thoughts disappear.”

  A kiss brushed my neck. “I’m having a few evil thoughts of my own right now.”

  “Most gemstones are supposed to protect from evil, or bad weather or disasters. I don’t know of any that ward off the evil thoughts of cute French American boys, though,” I teased.

  “That is a shame,” he breathed into my neck.

  From the corner of my eye I noticed Norm. I broke Adam’s hold and put some distance between us. He wandered past, muttering something about fencing wire and an overdue account. As soon as we heard the beaded curtain rattle, Adam stepped closer, pulling me in again.

  “Can I continue with my evil thoughts?” he whispered, making me laugh.

  “Yes. Please, feel free.”

  “Where were we?”

  “I was telling you about gemstones.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” he said, turning his attention back to the display cabinet. “How do you know all of this?”

  I smiled. “My youth hasn’t entirely been misspent, Adam.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in reading educational books.”

  “I don’t. I believe in magic.”

  ***

  Daylight had faded by the time I arrived home. It wasn’t until I stepped up on the porch that I began to regret staying out so late. I had no idea what sort of mood Alex would be in. I could smell something cooking and it made me shudder.

  He’s punishing me, I thought.

  In the kitchen, Alex stood at the stove with his back to me, stirring the concoction he would soon be passing off as dinner. I wasn’t sure whether to speak or sneak down to my room.

  “Where’s your car, Charli?” he asked, doing nothing to disprove my theory that he had eyes in the back of his head.

  “Adam brought me home. I left my car at Gabrielle’s.”

  He lifted the pot and carried it to the table. I slide a placemat underneath it to stop him burning a hole through the laminate. Ignoring my save, he pulled out a chair and sat.

  “Are you hungry?” He almost sounded hopeful.

  “Is this another peace offering, Alex?” I asked. “I keep telling you, chocolate cake would be much more appropriate.”

  “I didn’t think I needed another peace offering. You ditched school. That makes us even.” He motioned for me to pass my plate.

  “I only want a little bit,” I murmured, trying not to sound offensive.

  “I didn’t cook this, so you’ll live to see another day,” he said sarcastically.

  “Gabrielle cooks for us now?”

  Alex smirked –before he loaded up my plate to the point of overflowing. “No, Floss does. She stopped by the café this afternoon to give me a casserole and a lecture about not keeping her in the loop where my love life was concerned.”

  “She won’t tell anyone, Alex,” I assured him. “Besides, I think people should know.” It was the truth. I saw no reason for them to be sneaking around. And I was looking forward to seeing the crushing blow served upon Jasmine Tate when she found she’d lost out to the Parisienne beauty queen. She’d either retreat with her sequined tail between her legs or fight harder to win Alex over. Both options had their appeal, and thinking about them made me smile. “Gabrielle puts up with a lot for you. You know that, right?”

  “I keep telling her I’ll make it up to her.”

  “She wants to go home, to Marseille.”

  Alex rubbed his brow, as if my words had caused him pain. Maybe it was the food. Floss was a hard-core vegan. The only way her green bean casserole could have tasted worse was if Alex had cooked it.

  “I know she does.” He spoke slowly, edging his food around his plate with his fork. Suddenly the conversation had taken a serious turn.

  “You should go with her,” I urged, keeping my tone casual.

  “Impossible, Charli.”

  “You know I’m leaving at the end of the year. There’s no reason for you to stay. You’ll be a free man.”

  Alex was unamused. He stared at me as if I’d just sworn at him. “I’ve always been free. I’m not tied here.” His voice was low. “I’ve given up nothing for you.”

  “We both know that’s not true,” I murmured.

  He changed the subject. “This is really awful, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at his plate of food.

  I nodded.

  Alex’s chair scraped he pushed it back. He scraped his food into the bin, clearly keeping his temper in check. Any reminder I gave of the sacrifices he’d made for me instantly got his back up. Following his lead, I dumped my dinner and rinsed my plate.

  “I’m going to my room,” I said, pushing past him.

  “We’re okay, Charli. Nothing has changed.”

  I turned to look at him and he met my gaze. “Plenty has changed, Alex. And none of it’s bad. I just wish you could see that.”

  I went to bed that night feeling smug. I had been right all along. The universe was shifting and Alex’s misguided attempt to reassure me that nothing had changed proved that he was feeling it too.

  12. Translation

  Some days, surfing was more important than breakfast. Unless I got at least an hour in at the beach before school, those days seemed doomed from the start.

  Alex sat at the table, reading the newspaper while he ate. “Quarter past six, Charli,” he announced, reminding me that I was late.

  I rushed past him, swiping a piece of his toast along the way. “I’m not waiting for you,” I told him, annoyed that he wasn’t ready. I swung the front door open with the zest of someone making a prison break… to be met by a startled – but still impossibly beautiful – French woman, hand raised to knock.

  “Alex is inside,” I told her, waving my toast.

  I wasn’t surprised to see her. I’d seen so much of her in the past week that I wondered how on earth he’d managed to keep her a secret for as long as he had. Stepping aside, I ushered her through the door.

  The excitement of stealing a few minutes with the one she loved was obvious. She practically skipped into the kitchen, into the arms of my brother, who pulled her in close the minute she was within reach. I left them to it.

  My mood wasn’t great. The minute I got out of the car I could tell the waves would be nonexistent by the direction the wind blew my hair. The early morning rush to get to there had been for nothing.

  Onshore winds are the worst for surfing. The wind blows in from the ocean making the waves crumbly and shapeless. I cursed Alex. He didn’t bail on me because Gabrielle was coming over. He knew the swell was useless but letting me trek down here anyway was a great way to get me out of the house early.

  The frigid water lapped at my feet but that was as far as I was prepared to go – until I caught sight of the Beautifuls. Jasmine and Lily wa
lked their revolting dog most mornings so seeing them wasn’t a surprise, but I was usually better at avoiding them.

  “Charli,” purred Jasmine as soon as I was within earshot.

  “What?” I snapped, focusing my attention on the ridiculous dog. Mitchell had presented his sisters with a cute designer puppy – bizarrely named Nancy –a few years earlier. The Beautifuls thought she was the ultimate fashion statement, carrying her around in a handbag and dressing her up. Unfortunately, Nancy developed a bad case of eczema, which made big patches of her fur fall out. The designer puppy soon became the most hideous dog in the southern hemisphere. Two years on she was still half bald, but at least no longer had to a plastic cone around her neck to stop her biting herself. I laughed every time I saw her.

  “No surf today. Whatever will you do?” Jasmine asked condescendingly.

  She was definitely the brain of the operation. Nothing Lily ever did or said seemed to be as caustic as her sister. I was certain that somewhere underneath the grey velour tracksuit was a fairly decent person. But I wasn’t going to see it today.

  “You look like a little baby seal,” said Lily, scrunching up her nose as if I smelled like one too. Jasmine threw back her head and cackled, giving Lily the approval she needed to continue. “I hope no one comes along and clubs you.”

  The wetsuit I wore wasn’t designed to be pretty. The thick neoprene was necessary to protect against the twelve degree water. If someone came up with a suit that protected against the Tate sisters, I would have worn that.

  “What do you want?” I asked, still focusing on their aesthetically challenged mutt.

  “We don’t want anything. We’re just out walking Nancy.” Jasmine tugged on the small dog’s lead. The pooch gave a meaty little growl and stumbled into line.

  It was too much to think they’d leave it at that. They had the gall to follow me as I walked up the trail to retrieve my gear.

  “The car park is that way,” I said, pointing to the sandy path.

  Jasmine continued smirking at me but Lily turned around and looked. “Oh, look who it is!” she said excitedly.