Wish I Might

by Coleen Murtagh Paratore

  Poor Will. Here he came all this way to meet me. To find our father. He really believed Billy Havisham was still alive.

  When we reach the tip of the Spit, Will is coming up over the bank, trudging through the sea grass with Salty Dog. Salty barks.

  “Oh, my gosh, there’s your dog,” Mom says.

  “Will’s dog,” I whisper, my heart clenching sadly.

  When Mom sees Will’s face, she raises her hand to her mouth.

  I introduce them, but of course, no introductions are necessary.

  Will holds out his hand.

  Mother takes his hand between both of hers. She stares at him. “You’re the spitting image of your father.”

  “Yeah,” Will says with a weak smile. “So I understand.”

  “I’m so sorry you didn’t know—” Mother starts.

  “It’s okay,” Will interrupts, shaking his head. “I guess I really did know. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

  We all stand there not saying anything for a few moments. Salty barks.

  “How long are you staying on the Cape?” Mom asks.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “What?” I say. We only just met. “Tomorrow? Why so soon?”

  “Nothing here for me now,” Will says.

  “What about me?” I blurt out, surprising myself.

  Mother swings to look at me, equally surprised by my outburst.

  “We only just met each other, Will,” I say. “All this time I never realized I had a brother, and now you’re leaving before we really even get to know each other?” I feel my body starting to shake, tears rising.

  “Whoa,” Will says. “I’m sorry, Willa. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Do you have to leave tomorrow?” Mother says. “Is there any way we could talk you into staying with us for a while? We have room at the inn and we can always use an extra set of hands.”

  I burst out crying. That was the most spontaneous, most generous thing my mother has ever done. “Really, Mom? Do you mean it?”

  “Of course,” she says. “I need to check with Sam, but I’m sure he’d be on board.”

  “Will you, Will?” I say. “Will you stay?”

  Ruff, ruff, ruff. Salty Dog licks Will’s hand. He licks my hand. I swear that dog understands what’s going on here.

  “Sure,” Will says. “I’m in no hurry to get back to the castle. No one’s missing me there. Thanks for the offer. That would be nice.”

  Will rides over to the Vineyard to get his belongings. He’ll meet us at the inn in a few hours.

  Back at the Bramblebriar, Mom goes to talk with Sam in private. A few minutes later they are setting up a bed in the room that was going to be the nursery for the baby.

  Mom asks Mae-Alice to put a brown comforter and dark blue pillows on the bed. “Make it as boyish as possible,” she says.

  Sam wheels in a television and a small refrigerator. “Why don’t you stock it with some juice and snacks,” he says to me.

  In the kitchen, I tell Rosie the news. “Oh, how wonderful!” she says. “Tell your mom and dad I want to make a special dinner just for the four of you. I’ll serve it out in the Labyrinth like the other night.”

  When Will shows up with Salty Dog, we’re waiting for them on the porch.

  Salty runs to me and I hug him. “Welcome home,” I say.

  Will looks at me, at Mom, at Sam. He looks like he’s going to cry.

  “Welcome to the Bramblebriar Inn,” Sam says, reaching out his hand to shake my brother’s.

  “Welcome home,” I say. I look quickly at my mother, then back at Will. “Well, at least for the summer,” I say.

  I reach down and bury my face in Salty’s fur. “Furry traitor. I missed you, boy.”

  Salty licks my face. He licks my tears away. I laugh and he smiles at me.

  Really, he does. The only dog I know that smiles.

  “Let’s get you settled,” Sam says to Will. And we all head inside.

  CHAPTER 24

  Sand Castles, Sand Castles

  Go and catch a falling star,

  Get with child a mandrake root,

  Tell me where all past years are, …

  Teach me to hear mermaids singing.

  — John Donne

  Rosie has just finished baking the layers for the wedding cake for the couple from upstate New York. Denise and Scott. I put in the charms: B for book, R for rose, each letter standing for something special about our inn, “BRAMBLEBRIAR.”

  Tonight twelve guests will find a lucky penny under their plates and they’ll be invited to pull a ribbon from the wedding cake. There will be a charm on the end of each ribbon. Hopefully the guests will assign a certain meaning to their charm … something that inspires them, or makes them feel good.

  The charms were my idea. It’s one of the things that makes a wedding at the Bramblebriar different from any other.

  Sam finds a usable bike in the barn for Will, and the two of us bike over to South Cape Beach to check out the sand castle competition.

  Sand creations, they should call them. People brought props and elaborate imaginations. Sand turtles, elephants, lizards, and dinosaurs. Villages, pyramids. Cartoon characters. Funny-shaped people of every sort. Hardly a traditional-shaped castle anywhere. The mermaids won’t get many wedding cakes tonight.

  It’s late. We missed the announcement of the winners. But from the blue, red, and yellow banners by three amazing entries, Will and I can surmise who the first-, second-, and third-place winners were. Chandler and my friends from school took second place with a Dr. Seuss theme.

  It’s four-thirty or so. Families are packing up to head home for the day.

  The roar of the ocean is picking up.

  “Tide’s coming in,” Will says.

  “Hey,” I say. “Want to make a sand castle?”

  “No,” Will says. “Not really.”

  “Come on,” I say. “It’ll be fun. If we’d known each other when we were little, we’d have made tons of castles together.”

  Will smiles. “Sure. Okay. You’re on.”

  We make a good old-fashioned sand castle. I make funny-looking gargoyles on the turrets. Will makes a moat. The waves fill it in with water.

  “Do you have a moat at your castle in England?” I say.

  Will laughs. “No, but we’ve got gargoyles.”

  We sit on the bank and look out at the water.

  “Tide’s coming in,” Will says.

  We look at our castle. Won’t be long and it will be gone.

  “Do you really think that little tourist girl saw a mermaid?” I ask.

  “Of course she did,” Will says without hesitation.

  I look at him. “What? You really believe in mermaids?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I believe,” Will says. “Who am I to say what she saw with her eyes?”

  “But, Will, come on. A mermaid?”

  He looks at me. “Tell me something.”

  “Sure, what?”

  “If, two weeks ago, somebody told you that you have a brother, would you have believed them?”

  I think about that. “No. I wouldn’t have.”

  Will stares into my eyes. “Do you believe it now?”

  “Of course. You’re here. Right in front of me. I can see you with my own two eyes.”

  Waves are rolling in good now. There’s a splash out on the water. A few drops spray across my face.

  I look quick. Was that a tail? “Did you see that?” I say.

  “No,” my brother says. “But you did. And that’s all that matters.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Change For Good

  Eat Taffy. Be Happy.

  — Willa Havisham

  The old wooden pews of Bramble United Community are full this Sunday morning. Sam, in his best gray suit, is standing up at the pulpit.

  “We have some new faces at BUC this morning,” Sam says. “New friends to welcome into our circle.”

  Sam looks at me
and smiles. “Willa, will you do the honors?”

  “Sure, Dad.” I stand and face the congregation. “Please join me in welcoming my brother, Will Havisham, visiting us this summer from England.”

  Will stands and waves and sits back down. There’s a twittering throughout the room and then several “welcomes,” “glad to meet you’s,” and “so happy you could join us.”

  “And,” I say, smiling at Rob to let him know he’s next up, “I’d like to introduce Rob Whitebridge, on summer break from Boston College, nephew of our own dear friend and former minister, Sulamina Mum.”

  There are gasps and then applause. Rob stands and nods his gratitude.

  “Geesh,” Rob whispers to me. “I don’t have to give a speech or anything, do I?”

  “No,” I whisper back. “But I can tell you right now, some of these ladies are going to want your autograph.”

  Rob bursts out laughing.

  My mother gives me the “quiet down” look.

  There are announcements and a reading. The choir sings “Let It Be a Dance,” a song about how to live your life freely with a joyful heart.

  Sam takes the pulpit for the sermon.

  “I must admit I’m a little nervous,” he says, “even having a relative of Sulamina Mum’s in the building.”

  There’s a light wave of laughter across the room.

  “But I know Mum, our for-a-time minister and forever friend, would approve of the topic I’ve chosen for today’s sermon. That topic is service. Community rent. How you and I and each of us can make a difference with our one small life.”

  Sam talks on and on. I look at my mother’s face, so happy, so proud.

  I look at Rob’s face, smiling, glad to be here. I look at my brother’s face.

  Will senses me staring at him and turns to wink at me.

  I look behind me at Nana. She nods toward Will and Rob and gives me a thumbs-up sign.

  I look back at Mrs. Saperstone and Dr. Swaminathan. Mrs. Saperstone smiles at me and leans her head in toward Dr. Swammy’s shoulder.

  I look two rows over at the Sivlers and the Belles. Tina and Ruby are sitting together and yet I’m not jealous. That is how it should be.

  I think of JFK and Mariel, wishing they both were here.

  “And so,” Sam says, “I hope I won’t embarrass my stepdaughter, Willa, by telling all of you about her wonderful, simple idea called Change For Good.”

  It’s late and I’m exhausted. I open up a new skinny-punch. Feathers by Jacqueline Woodson. One of my favorite authors.

  Before the story starts there is a quote from Emily Dickinson, one of my other all-time favorite authors.

  Hope is the thing with feathers

  that perches in the soul,

  And sings the tune—without the words,

  And never stops at all.

  I pull on a sweatshirt and head up to the widow’s walk.

  The air is cool, refreshing. The sky takes my breath away.

  I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.

  I stare out at the vast, dark ocean, thinking briefly of mermaids.

  “Hope you liked the sand castle Will and I sent you yesterday. Hope it turned into a beautiful wedding cake. Hope it was delicious.”

  I close my eyes and smile.

  I breathe in and out.

  Thank you.

  Two simple words.

  Mum always said that was the best prayer.

  Thank you.

  Thank you for my life. My mom. My dad. My dog. My house. My Nana. JFK. Mariel and all my friends. My town. My books. My brother.

  Thank you.

  That’s all.

  Thank you.

  I turn and head in, and as I do I hear singing somewhere off at sea.

  “Good night,” I call out with a laugh. “Sleep tight. Oh, and … a dog? A brother? Really cool gifts. Keep ’em coming. Surprise me. Summer’s only just begun.”

  Willa’s Summer Skinny-Punch Pix List #2

  Feathers, Jacqueline Woodson

  42 Miles, Tracie Vaughn Zimmer

  The Pearl, John Steinbeck

  Skellig, David Almond

  Song of the Trees, Mildred D. Taylor

  The House on Mango Street, Sandra Cisneros

  The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

  Three Cups of Tea (Young Reader’s Edition), Greg

  Mortenson and David Oliver Relin

  Tuck Everlasting, Natalie Babbitt

  Yellow Star, Jennifer Roy

  Dear Reader,

  What are some of your favorite books? Maybe you’d like to make your own Pix List.

  Happy Reading,

  Acknowledgments

  With sincerest appreciation to:

  My mother, Peg Spain Murtagh, my anchor.

  My wonderful editor, Jennifer Rees, and David Levithan, Lillie Mear, and all of Willa’s friends at Scholastic Press and Scholastic Book Clubs and Fairs.

  My Cape Cod friends: Bill Malone, Claire and Chris Kondochristie, Rowena Lammer, Gail and Joe DeBattista, Fran and Rick Risko, Doris O’Neil, Cookie and Don McGinness, Ray and Lynn Butti, Judy and Steve LeGraw, Betty Stefos, Jan and Joe Bosse, Wendy and John Alexopolus, Nancy and Bobby Farrelly, Paul Rifkin, Annie Lawrence, Janet Burke, Sara Young, Tara Nickerson, Karen Beil, Lisa Trepanier, Joanne Doggart, Sybille Colby, Debbie Dermady, and especially Carol Chittenden, in celebration of the legions of readers and writers she has nurtured and inspired through her wonderful Eight Cousins bookstore, Falmouth, Cape Cod.

  My dear friends Pauline and Fred Miller, who, when I was in a panic over losing a computer file with nearly two-thirds of this manuscript completed, kept cool and kept on believing and all around saved the day.

  My Ya-Ya’s: Ellen Donovan, Paula Davenport, and Kathy Johnson.

  Selwyn, for the song.

  My writing buddies: Robyn Ryan, Ellen Laird, Karen Beil, Kathleen Elkin, Nancy Castaldo, Rose Kent, Eric Luper, Kyra Teis, Liza Frenette, Lois Feister Huey, Jennifer Groff, Debbi Mickho Florence, Jackie Rogers, Peter Marino, Peter DeWitt, and Robert Whiteman.

  My colleagues in the Children’s Literature Connection and the Upstate New York chapter of SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators).

  My wonderful family, especially my sons, Connor, Dylan, and Christopher, once super sand castle builders, now building fine lives for themselves. You make me so proud.

  And, finally, to my readers … May you always have good books and sweet treats on your nightstand and a heart wide open to the gifts of the sea.

  Splash, splash, surprise!

  Till soon,

  Other Books By Coleen Murtagh Paratore

  The books about Willa Havisham,

  by Coleen Murtagh Paratore:

  The Wedding Planner’s Daughter

  The Cupid Chronicles

  Willa by Heart

  Forget Me Not

  Wish I Might

  Other novels by the author that you also may enjoy:

  Sunny Holiday

  Sweet and Sunny

  A Pearl Among Princes

  The Funeral Director’s Son

  Kip Campbell’s Gift

  Mack McGinn’s Big Win

  Copyright

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  This book was originally published in hardcover by Scholastic Press in 2010.

  Copyright © 2010 by Coleen Murtagh Paratore

  Cover Photograph © by Michael Frost

  Cover design by Lillie Howard

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  All rights reserved under Internationa
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  eISBN: 978-0-545-38890-0