“I remember Ashe saying something about his dad having the ability to charm people. Kinda like your pies and my wishes,” Rachel said.
“I’d say what he can do is more of a curse for the rest of us,” Catch said, slapping at the paper. “Anyway, I’m a little surprised you’re not asking me to hide this.”
“Could you really make them all forget I was behind it?”
“Not after that. There’s too many people that know now. I couldn’t cover it up without some serious consequences.” Catch clutched at her side and sucked in a sharp breath. She glared at Rachel, effectively warding off any questions about how she was feeling. “It wouldn’t work the way you’d want it to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Changing something that big always has side effects. Asking that many people to forget one thing could erase that thing altogether. Not just from their memories, but from other people’s memories as well,” Catch said.
Rachel’s heart pounded in her ears. Catch’s lips continued to move, but the words didn’t penetrate. She latched on to the small thread of hope dangling in front of her.
If Catch can make people forget me, maybe she can make them remember too. Maybe she’s my loophole to get Michael back.
Catch dug her fingers into Rachel’s shoulder and shook. “Are you hearing me, girl?”
“Sorry,” Rachel said. Blinking, she tried to clear her head. “I was just wondering, once someone’s forgotten, is there any way to bring them back?”
“That’s tricky business. You’d best not get yourself in a position that we have to find out,” Catch said. She dropped a fork next to the plate of breakfast pie that was going cold on the counter in front of Rachel. “Now quit asking me about things you’ve got no business asking and eat your damn breakfast.”
* * *
A young girl waited in Catch’s front yard, half-hidden behind the hydrangea bush. Her dark hair and green shirt blended into the garden as if she were one of Catch’s prize-winning plants. But the flowers swayed in the breeze—and the girl stood motionless, staring wide-eyed at the house.
Rachel peered out again, hoping it was a trick of the light.
“She’s been out there for an hour,” Catch said. Her voice rang with the same annoyance she’d had at breakfast.
“What does she want?”
“You, I’d expect. If she wanted a pie, she woulda come to the back door already.”
Even from the safety of the foyer, Rachel could see the desperation as plainly as if it had been tattooed on the girl’s skin.
“How do you do it?” Rachel asked.
“Do what?”
“I know you like helping people and don’t mind them coming around at all hours of the day, but I don’t know if I can do that.”
Catch reached around her and pulled the cord on the blinds. The slats clicked shut. “Maybe you shoulda thought of that before you went and got yourself on the front page of the paper.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. Get in the paper, I mean.”
“Lots of things happen that we don’t mean. Doesn’t change the fact that they happened. You’ll have to figure out what you’re gonna do the next time someone asks for your help.”
“What should I do about her?” Rachel asked, gesturing to the young girl still half-hidden in the front yard.
“Since she doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere, I’d suggest you talk to her.”
Shielding her eyes from the blinding morning sun with her hand, Rachel headed to the yard. “Can I help you with something?” she asked the girl, who now stood at the edge of the driveway.
The girl couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. Her hollow cheeks stretched thin and her legs were bone and skin, no muscle to speak of. “I hope so,” she stammered.
“You know, ringing the doorbell might’ve gotten me out here sooner.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.” The girl hugged her arms across her chest. She raised her eyes to Rachel’s. Sniffling, she tried to keep her composure. “Mama told me not to come, but I just wanted to thank you for saving my home.”
Rachel took a step back and toed the gravel driveway. “You’re Helen and Ricky Wilbanks’s daughter?”
“I’m Jody.”
“I’m really glad you don’t have to move out of your house.”
“Thanks. Me too.” Her timid smile revealed two missing teeth on the top row. “Mama said you didn’t want anyone to know it was you, but I heard her telling Daddy how you live with the lady who makes the pies. That’s how I knew where to find you. But I won’t tell anybody.”
“I appreciate that,” Rachel said, returning the smile.
The girl turned to leave, then looked back at Rachel. “I think you should tell people, though. There are lots of people who need help—not just with keeping their homes—and if they knew about you, their wishes might come true too. And that would be really good.” She raced off before Rachel could respond. Her sneakers ground against the gravel in the driveway for a few seconds, then she reached the pavement and picked up speed, leaving Rachel to question how good things really could be if she let them.
* * *
All morning at work, Rachel couldn’t stop thinking about what Mary Beth had said about her being at home in Nowhere. She hadn’t wanted something to be true that badly in a long time. Not since Michael first disappeared and she was desperate to believe he had been real. But most of the townspeople were still of the opinion she could only bring trouble.
Somehow Everley had convinced Rachel that making some of the wishes she’d been collecting come true would help her show the naysayers that she not only belonged in Nowhere, but that they needed her too. Everley had also offered up her home as the place to do it. At the time, it had made sense. Now, curled up in a plush chair in Everley’s living room, Rachel couldn’t remember why.
Since she’d left her shoes in a cubby by the front door, she tucked her bare feet under her and sank farther into the cushions.
Dropping into the chair next to Rachel, Everley asked, “Will it ruin anything if we have some wine?”
“I don’t think so. Actually, it might mess things up if we don’t drink,” she said, hoping a little alcohol would calm her nerves.
Everley uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses of pale white wine. “To making wishes come true.” She tapped the rim of her glass to Rachel’s. Wine sloshed over the edge and dribbled down the glass. After wiping it off, she licked her thumb clean. “All right, so how does this work exactly? Is there a chant or spell or something you have to say?”
“I just have to think about it. That’s how it’s always worked before,” Rachel said.
“Okay. What can I do?”
“Pick one.” She held the box of paper slips out to Everley like they were selecting a raffle winner.
Everley swished her hand around the box. The papers shuffled against each other. She pulled one out with a triumphant flourish. “Any way I can test one? You know, just so I can see it work since these will happen to people who aren’t in my living room?”
“I don’t know, Everley. I’ve done that before and it never worked out right.”
“Just something little. Unimportant. Please?”
Rachel’s stomach fluttered. She took a sip of the wine. “Tell me what you’re thinking, but don’t actually wish for it yet. I get to veto it if I don’t want to do it, okay?”
“Okay, okay. How about another bottle of wine.”
“That’s one I can live with.”
Rachel looked at the open bottle sitting on the table. The label was slick from the condensation beading on the green glass. She wished for a second one sitting on the top shelf of the fridge next to a double slice of chocolate raspberry cheesecake. The air fluttered around her, and a crisp white piece of paper landed in her lap.
“Did it work?” Everley asked.
Reading her own wish sent a thrill through her she hadn’t felt since she was little. “Go check the
fridge.” She twisted her fingers together to keep them from shaking and held her breath.
Everley gathered her skirt in one hand and launched off the pillow. Her bare feet padded on the floor as she jogged to the kitchen. “Oh my God! It totally worked. You just imagined a bottle of wine out of thin air.”
“There should be some cheesecake too,” Rachel called.
“Holy shit. Cheesecake!” Everley peered at her around the doorjamb, her smile half awe, half jealousy. “This is amazing. You are amazing.”
Rachel smiled back at her and laughed. Maybe this will work. Maybe I can make everything right.
Everley left the wine in the fridge, but carried the cheesecake into the living room with two forks.
Glancing at the box of wishes, Rachel asked, “Okay, what’s first?”
Everley unfolded the wish she’d pulled earlier and laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. Someone really wants Deborah Anne to find a husband. Any man will do. It really says that, see?” She passed the wish to Rachel, who tried to keep her face straight despite her friend’s infectious laugh.
“Let’s hope she means that because I don’t get to pick the guy. I’m just the messenger.”
Rachel’s fingers shook as she took the paper. She closed her eyes and wished. The wind gusted again, fluttering her hair and sending a chill up her spine.
“How will we know if it worked?” Everley asked.
“I guess we just have to wait and see if Deborah Anne starts going around town with a new guy.”
Everley dug deep into the box again and said, “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”
“Don’t make me regret doing this with you,” Rachel said.
“I can be serious. Watch. Okay, this person wishes—” She dissolved into a fit of giggles.
Rachel snatched the paper from her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Everley said, holding her stomach while she laughed. “But how am I supposed to keep a straight face when someone’s wishing to marry Nathan Fillion? Not that I blame her for wanting it, but not even you can make something like that happen, can you?”
“It doesn’t always work out the way people want. Like this person will probably meet and marry another guy named Nathan Fillion or someone who’s into cosplay, but not Captain Tight Pants himself.”
Everley laughed harder, then when she caught her breath, asked, “But you have some control over it, don’t you?”
Rachel put her wineglass down, suddenly feeling light-headed. “Not really. I don’t get to shape the wishes. They are whatever the wisher wants them to be. I’m just the conduit.”
Everley dropped the wish onto the table, looking closely at Rachel. “We can stop if you want.”
It was tempting. Part of her—the part that was still bitter about not being able to wish Michael back—yearned to pack up her stuff and pretend that she was just like everyone else. Like she couldn’t change people’s lives just by wishing things were different.
But she’d done that before. It hadn’t done her any good. And if Catch was right, Rachel had to finally commit to her ability if she wanted to gain control.
“No, it’s okay. I need to do this. But maybe we skip that one since I’m doing this to help people, not disappoint them. What’s next?”
Instead of selecting another wish, Everley asked, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.” She fingered the stem of her glass, rotating it so the wine danced up the sides.
“I’m good. I promise,” Rachel said. She leaned forward and picked another wish from the box. Taking a deep breath, she read it out loud. “So, it looks like this one wants State to have a winning season. Do you have any idea what sport they’re talking about?”
“Football. This time of year, it’s always football. March? Now that’s a whole ’nother story.”
“See, it’s a good thing you’re doing this with me, or I might’ve ruined some poor team’s chances.”
Everley toasted the air. “To me, then.”
“I’ll second that,” Rachel said and pulled the next wish from the box.
“I can’t wait to see how everyone reacts when their deepest wishes start coming true. They’re going to fall over themselves to beg your forgiveness for being such asshats to you. It’ll be glorious.”
“I’m just doing this to put things right. Do some kind of good in case I have to leave. Maybe get some of the land back from Max.” Everley made a low growling sound at the mention of Ashe’s dad. Rachel nodded in agreement. She added in a lighter tone, “And make some frivolous wishes come true in the process.”
“You’re not going anywhere. I refuse to let you,” Everley said.
Rachel flicked the wish she still held, hoping it contained a weightier wish than the first few. “I promise to wish you a very good replacement on my way out of town.”
Everley took another long drink of wine and smiled at her over the rim. “And I promise to wish for you to stay right here.”
28
Rachel had been sober enough to know she shouldn’t drive home. But when Everley suggested calling Ashe to come get her, she knew she was still buzzed enough to do something stupid. She settled for walking the mile and a half back to Catch’s.
She stopped at the end of the driveway, just before the yard disappeared into the darkness of night. A warm breeze sighed against her skin. The leaves laughed quietly as the current tickled them. For a second, maybe two, the air smelled sweeter, like the trees were wooing her. Squinting into the darkness, Rachel contemplated ripping a peach from the branch and sinking her teeth into its fuzzy flesh, letting the sweet juice run down her chin and fingers.
She jumped when a shadow moved in the yard. Her fingers slid from the box of wishes she had clutched to her chest. It dropped to the ground and dozens of white paper scraps lifted and flapped in the breeze. They rustled like insect wings.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming home at all tonight,” Ashe said. He reached out and plucked a wish from the air.
“Shit,” Rachel said.
“Afraid I’d sneak up to your room and read them?” he asked, waving it at her. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight, a mischievous glint that irritated and seduced all at once.
She stretched up on her toes to catch a wish that fluttered by his head. “No.”
“Need some help?”
“I’ve got it,” she said, grabbing at another one that floated by. It drifted through her fingers.
“I’m actually pretty good.” He lunged and caught two in one hand. “Scott and I used to run around trying to catch leaves before they hit the ground. Hell, who am I kidding, we still do that. After-Thanksgiving dinner ritual.” He picked another one out of the air inches from her fingertips.
“Fine. Just don’t read them, please,” she said. She reached for another one and laughed when it crumpled in her fist.
“Deal,” he said. She grinned at him and popped a kiss on his lips. His fingers closed around hers when the wind kicked up to keep the paper in her hand from taking off again. When he leaned down to turn her playful kiss into a real one, she didn’t pull away.
Tart remnants of fruit from whatever pie he’d eaten that evening clung to his tongue. It mingled with the wine on her own. Stepping back, he said, “Did you spill a bottle of wine on yourself?”
“No. Most of it’s in me,” Rachel said. She stumbled a bit, laughing, and Ashe steadied her.
“I’m gonna kill Everley for letting you drive home. Then I’m gonna kill you for actually doing it.”
Rachel patted his chest. “Oh, calm down. I walked. Everley and I might’ve gone through a few bottles, but we’re not stupid.”
“Why didn’t you just stay there?”
“She was calling Jamie to see if he wanted to have a sleepover. Though I very much doubt they’re going to get much sleep. Plus, I didn’t trust her with these,” she said. She wiggled her hand—and the paper—free from his grasp.
“You ever gonn
a tell me what those are?”
“They’re wishes.” She said it so easily she surprised herself.
Ashe bent and scraped one off the ground. He held it in the air where she couldn’t reach it, opened it, and read, “I wish my mom would find a new job so she’ll be home at night.” Folding it back, he handed it to her. “Are they all like that?”
She’d tried not to listen, but the words wormed their way in, sparking her nerves. “Some of them. Others want love or money or a new car. Violet, Maeby’s oldest daughter, wished for a unicorn for her last birthday. The best I could do was a horse with an ice cream cone tied to its head. Not that I meant to do it, mind you. It just sort of slipped through my defenses. Violet’s kinda hard to resist.”
“You’re serious?” he asked.
“Well, I couldn’t very well get her a real unicorn. Not even I can wish that into existence.” Rachel tilted her head back and looked at the stars. “It’s so pretty out tonight,” she said. The wind whipped a strand of hair across her face.
Ashe reached out and twisted the hair lightly around his finger. She darted her eyes back to his. Releasing her hair, he skimmed the back of his fingers down the side of her face. “I meant are you serious about the wishing thing. You can really do that?”
“What do you think I was doing with Everley all night?” she asked.
“Other than getting drunk?”
Rachel pushed his hand away. “You think I’m making it up?”
“Why don’t you prove me wrong?” Ashe said. He met her eyes and saw the challenge take hold. Smiling, he continued, “I’ll make a wish and you make it come true. Easy as that.”
“Fine. You’re on. But help me pick up the rest first,” she said.
The wind had settled and the paper littered the grass. In the hazy moonlight, the wishes glowed white. Rachel and Ashe went in opposite directions, scooping the papers up and tucking them into pockets when their hands got full. If Ashe read them as he went, Rachel couldn’t tell. The yard smelled too sweet, like the inside of a candle shop. She made a grab for the last remaining pieces and jogged back to the driveway where the air was less potent.
The Secret Ingredient of Wishes Page 21