Storm Shells

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Storm Shells Page 32

by G. J. Walker-Smith

“She’s so cute,” she cooed. She was probably totting up how much she could sell her for. I palmed the baby’s bottle to Adam and slipped down to the bedroom to call Flynn.

  “She’s here now,” I whispered.

  “Okay. Just keep her there,” he replied. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  It was a long five minutes. I didn’t want the lying rat anywhere near my family. Adam clearly felt the same way. By the time I returned to the room, Bridget was back in his arms sucking on her bottle.

  Flynn finally arrived and I rushed to let him in. Nicole looked understandably stunned. As far as she knew, I was terrified of Flynn, and no one had encouraged that more than her.

  Flynn walked straight to Nicole. There was no greeting or kind words. “Nicole Lawson, I’m arresting you on suspicion of burglary and handling stolen goods.”

  “What’s this about?” she whimpered. “Charli?”

  I couldn’t find my voice, but Adam had no problem bringing her up to speed. “You’ve been stealing from us, Nicole,” he said flatly. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?”

  Her expression changed from bewilderment to fury in a flash. “You’ve got it all wrong,” she shouted.

  Flynn spun her and snapped cuffs on her. I was amazed at how quickly he did it. So was Nicole. By the time she’d started resisting his hold, it was too late. She was trussed up like a true crook.

  She turned back to face me. “Tell him it’s a mistake,” she begged.

  A small part of me wished I could. It was the part of me that remembered us as eight-year-old girls lying in the sand dunes planning our travel adventures. Those girls were long gone.

  “I found my dresses at a boutique in Hobart, Nic,” I muttered. “How could you do that?”

  “I would never do something like that,” she protested. She sounded believable but her expression gave her away. So did the video evidence.

  “I’m not just going to forget about it this time.”

  She dropped the innocent act dizzyingly quickly. Perhaps she knew it was hopeless. “It was a handful of dresses,” she spat. “You didn’t even miss them.”

  “What did you do with the money?” I asked out of curiosity. She hadn’t been flashing cash around.

  “I didn’t do anything!” she screamed.

  “Get out of my house, Nicole,” said Adam, perfectly calmly. He sounded more bored than outraged. “You’re pathetic.”

  “I’m pathetic? You think I’m pathetic?” She spoke with pure contempt. “Your whole life is pathetic, Adam. You’ll realise it sooner or later. A year or two in this town will destroy you. You should take your kid and make a run for it while you can. That’s what you do best, right?”

  “Why are you so bitter and twisted?” asked Adam.

  I was sure his calm voice was riling Nicole even more. Her next words were spat out with pure hatred. “Go to hell!”

  “What did I ever do to you, Nic?” I asked quietly.

  Nicole smirked at me. “I’ve told you before, Charli. Not everything is about you.” She shifted her venomous glare to Adam. “You’ll realise that when you’re left holding the baby he never wanted.”

  “Give up, Nicole,” murmured Adam. “You don’t even sound convincing.”

  Flynn picked that moment to lead her out of the house. Our tiny cottage fell silent. All I could hear was Bridget making tiny little mewls as she drained her bottle.

  “Charlotte, I will never leave you or Bridget again,” Adam promised.

  “I know,” I whispered.

  He leaned across and kissed the top of my head. “Ad infinitum.”

  “We’re good, Adam,” I assured. “For infinity.”

  Nicole’s rant should’ve reduced me to tears but it didn’t. Jealousy and spite had been driving her for a long time – probably years. I had no idea that she’d been so resentful toward me, but I could understand it. I was the lucky one. I’d stumbled into a life I didn’t even know I wanted. I had more than I could ever have hoped for – and she hadn’t damaged it at all, despite her best efforts.

  * * *

  Nicole Lawson didn’t make bail. She was remanded in custody awaiting her court appearance because, unbeknown to everyone, she was on probation at the time of her stealing spree. It turned out that she’d been busted in Queensland the year before for passing bad cheques that she’d stolen from some other sucker. I no longer believed any of the sob story she’d fed me. I had no idea if she’d really made it to Fiji or just stayed on the mainland wreaking havoc. It made me wonder if I’d ever truly known her at all.

  Alex was horrified when he heard what had happened, especially when I came clean about the fate of the boat money she’d skipped town with three years earlier.

  I summoned him to the cottage to break the news.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, sounding more hurt than angry.

  My answer came easily. “You wouldn’t have let me go with Mitchell if you’d known I was broke.”

  He blinked at me – too many times. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t have.”

  I pointed at the tiny baby in his arms. “And if I hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have gone to Adam and you wouldn’t be holding that little girl. No lying, thieving Nicole, no Bridget.”

  Alex looked down at granddaughter he wasn’t even old enough to have. “Your logic is skewed, Charlotte.”

  “And you’re only just realising this?” I asked, trying to raise a smile out of him.

  He glanced up at me, still looking deadly serious. “You’re a good girl. I’m very proud of you.”

  It wasn’t like Alex to be so sappy, but I let him have his moment. I understood his mindset. Nicole and I had been joined at the hip since kindergarten. I hadn’t always known she was shady, but knew I sometimes was. Staying on the good side hadn’t always been easy for me. Mercifully, Alex had reined me in and Adam had held me there.

  “You did good, Dad,” I praised, albeit jokingly.

  His expression didn’t waver. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  * * *

  The whole town was buzzing at the news of Nicole’s arrest. My father never usually surrendered to gossip but surprisingly, he had no qualms about setting people straight where Nicole was concerned. If anyone asked him, he told them everything he knew.

  I tried to put the whole sorry saga behind me. I’d already wasted too much time thinking about it. Laying low meant I didn’t have to deal with anyone. Spending time at home with Bridget wasn’t a chore, especially now she was back to her sunny self.

  Having a baby was an adventure far different from the one I thought I wanted. Nothing dulled the thrill of seeing her do something new or unexpected, which seemed to happen daily. Life was good. The only thing I wished for was more hours in the day. If I’d had them, I would’ve spent them washing my hair.

  I’d taken Adam’s advice and held off getting it cut for a few days, and was now more determined than ever to do the deed. Fearing he’d try talking me out of it, I didn’t mention my plans. His mind was elsewhere, anyway. His windows were in, meaning he’d moved on to phase two of the restoration. He’d left the cottage that morning babbling something about crown moulding.

  I called on Gabrielle for moral support.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the city and get it done?” she asked as we walked down the main street. “We’ll find a nice salon.”

  “We have two here,” I reminded. “One of them should be able to get it right.”

  The Parisienne halted the pram and put on the brake. I didn’t even know the thing had a brake.

  “So which will it be, Charli?” she asked, staring in the direction of the salons further down the road. I could hear the smile in her voice.

  My choices were limited to say the least but I had no trouble deciding. I wasn’t prepared to face Carol Lawson.

  According to Alex, she hadn’t handled Nicole’s shenanigans well. She’d had the nerve to front up to him at the café
, screaming about his daughter’s lack of compassion. Alex gently reminded her that her daughter was a no-good, sneaky thief who deserved no compassion. I suspect he got the last word in.

  “I’m going to let Jasmine cut it,” I told her.

  “Are you mad?” gasped Gabi.

  I grabbed the handle of the pram, kicked off the brake as if I knew it was there all along, and steered it toward The Best Salon In The Cove. “It’s only hair, Gabs. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “I suspect we are about to find out,” she replied.

  The only person more shocked by my choice of stylists than Gabrielle was Jasmine. “Are you sure you want me to do it?” she asked, furiously fluttering her caterpillar lashes at me.

  I wasn’t brimming with confidence but I forged ahead. “Of course.”

  I couldn’t look in the mirror as she cut. I just focused on the long blonde hair piling up on the floor beneath me. After what seemed an eternity, Jasmine spun my chair around to face Gabrielle.

  “Ta-daa!” she crooned.

  Gabrielle’s hold on Bridget seemed to falter.

  “Please don’t drop her,” I whispered. “Adam would kill me.”

  “What do you think?” asked Jasmine. She didn’t give Gabrielle time to respond. She pinched at wisps of my new fringe and continued her nervous babble. “I think it’s pretty. All she has to do now is drop a few kilos and she’ll be gorgeous again.”

  I ignored her almost-compliment and focused on Gabrielle’s expression, which finally shifted into a warm smile that reassured me just enough to keep me from bolting out of the salon.

  “A yummy mummy,” she praised, making it sound weird purely because of her accent.

  I put my hand on my head, feeling the strange sensation of having shoulder-length hair for the first time in my life.

  Jasmine spun me back to face the mirror. “Well?” she asked.

  I deliberated for a long moment.

  “Are you going to cry?” she asked, sounding worried. “I can order in some hair extensions if you don’t like it.”

  I shook my head, trying to hide the fact that I was nearly in tears. I didn’t hate the haircut. It was just a bigger deal than I’d expected it to be.

  “It’s great,” I mumbled. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Gabrielle and I parted company outside. She had an art class to teach and I needed to go home, have a good cry about my haircut and get it out of my system before Adam got home. He hadn’t been convinced that it was a good idea in the first place, and witnessing a meltdown would confirm it. I put Bridget down for a nap, had a good sook and managed to pull myself together.

  Everything was fine until I got a phone call from Jean-Luc. I stared at his name flashing on my phone for a long time before working up the courage to answer it.

  I was feeding Bridget at the time. I was convinced she could feel my heart thumping through my chest.

  “Hello.”

  “Good afternoon, Charli.” His formal tone and diction did nothing to calm me. “How are you?”

  I answered his generic question with and equally generic response – then got down to business and asked why he was calling.

  I hoped to hear that he’d had a change of heart regarding the hard line he’d taken with Adam, believing there was no way he wouldn’t have melted at the sight of his pretty granddaughter in the pictures I’d emailed him.

  But his call had nothing to do with Bridget. His focus was solely on his errant youngest son – and I couldn’t deny that what he had to say was very enlightening.

  I knew Adam had blown off his clerkship. What I didn’t know was that he’d blown off sitting the bar exam too.

  “He never told me,” I admitted.

  “I suspected as much,” he replied gruffly.

  It was almost maddening to think that our lives together had been put on the back burner time and time again for something he’d never actually managed to complete.

  I looked at the baby in my arms and gently ran my fingertips across her head. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to talk some sense into him,” he replied. “You seem to be the only one he listens to lately.”

  “What are you asking me to do, exactly?”

  I didn’t give him a chance to explain. Bridget began to fuss. I told Jean-Luc to hold on and set the phone down while I repositioned the baby.

  “Are you still there?” I asked, bringing the phone back to my ear.

  “Yes,” he said after a long pause. “Is that the baby I can hear?”

  The hard Décarie shell cracked – just a little. It was spectacular.

  “Yes,” I explained, “I just had to swap boobs. She’s impatient.”

  “Oh, I see,” he stammered.

  The mention of boobs fell into the too-much-information category. I didn’t care. As far as Jean-Luc was concerned, Bridget’s existence was in the too-much-information category.

  After a long silence, he cleared his throat and went back to laying out his master plan. Just a few minutes later I found myself agreeing to something I never thought I would.

  “It’s for the best, Charli,” he assured me.

  “I know.”

  I ended the call feeling uneasy. Bridget didn’t seem to pick up on my stress. She was milk drunk and fast asleep. I was glad. It meant she didn’t hear me when I told her that we were going to have to let her father go.

  July 24

  Adam

  As soon as I walked through the door, I knew something was going on. Charli stood in the centre of the room rocking Bridget in her arms. It didn’t seem like a soothing gesture, more like a nervous one. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t venture much further than the doorway.

  “You’ve had your hair cut,” I noted, wondering if that was the root of the tension. “It looks great.”

  I wasn’t just trying to be nice. She looked gorgeous, but it had little to do with the shorter hair. I was distracted by her beautiful form. She was wearing a blue dress that I vaguely remembered from her New York days. The way the skirt flowed around her legs as she stood rocking our child practically set me on fire.

  “Thank you. I’m not sure if I like or not.”

  I kicked my boots off at the door and hung my coat on the hook. “Well, if you want me to knock you up again so it grows back faster, just say the word. I’m game if you are.”

  She laughed, but nothing about it sounded genuine. Something was going on. I just had to figure out what it was.

  I walked over to her, leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was the best I could do considering I was covered in dust. I held off touching Bridget but noticed that she was dressed to the nines too.

  “Wow. Both of my girls have gone all out tonight,” I said, peering down at her. “She has no hair, Charlotte. How did you manage to get the bow to stay on her head?”

  She grinned, more genuinely. “Blu Tack,” she replied. “I couldn’t find any glue.”

  * * *

  Pretty outfits weren’t all they had going on that night. Charli had cooked dinner. It was a sure-fire sign that something was in the wind.

  I managed to hold off quizzing her until we were at the table. “What are you up to?” I asked suspiciously.

  Charli jumped up as if the question had freed her to confess. “I have something for you,” she blurted.

  She headed to the kitchen and snatched an envelope off the top of the fridge, her makeshift filing cabinet.

  “Good something or bad something?” I took it from her.

  “Just read it.”

  It was an airline ticket. One airline ticket.

  “I want you to go back to New York. You leave tomorrow.”

  “Why, Charli?”

  My expression must have looked dire because her answer came at warp speed. “I want you to sit your bar exam. If you go tomorrow, you’ll make it in time. You can only sit it –”

  “Twice a year. Yes, I know.” I folded the ticket and
dropped it on the table.

  “I don’t want you to miss it,” she replied. “If you don’t see this through, all the angst and separation we’ve been through has been for nothing.”

  “There’s no need for it, Charli. I’m happy here.”

  “How do you know you’re not going to want to go back to it some day?” she asked, sounding frustrated. “At least keep your options open.”

  I stared at the ticket.

  Charli wrapped her arms around my neck from behind. “Please do this.”

  I slid my chair back and pulled her onto my lap. “You’ve been speaking to my dad, haven’t you?” It was a redundant question. She couldn’t have known about the exam otherwise.

  She nodded, twisting a button on my shirt so she didn’t have to look at me. “It would mean a lot to him.”

  “I’m not going to fly half way around the world and sit a two-day exam to please him, Charlotte. I’ve spent too much of my life trying to please him.”

  “Don’t do it for him then.” She shrugged. “Do it for yourself.”

  Nothing about leaving Charli and Bridget seemed like a good idea, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that wanted to pass the bar and end my years of study properly.

  I stared at the ticket and deliberated. “You’ll be okay for a week without me?”

  “We’ll manage.”

  I leaned forward and kissed her before resting my forehead against hers. “I don’t like who I am without you,” I whispered. “That guy from New York is an ass.”

  She put her hand to my face, predictably poking my cheek with her thumb. “So, don’t be him. Go back, wrap him up and come home to us.”

  July 26

  Charli

  Besides sitting the bar exam, a chance to make peace with his father could only have been a good thing. Both men were stubborn but this was a disagreement that Jean-Luc wasn’t going to win. For once, Adam was following his heart instead of his over-educated private school mind.

  Fiona was in Adam’s corner, despite the fact he’d ignored her pleas to ship his family back to New York. She called me every day, but I suspect Jean-Luc knew nothing about it. The queen gave up on the idea of Bridget being raised caged instead of free-range remarkably early. I guess Ryan had something to do with talking her round – she’d once referred to moon ducks when wailing about our settlement in the boondocks.

 

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