Saving Wishes

by GJ Walker-Smith

  ***

  A long time passed before I even thought about moving from the couch. I was too comfortable – until the subject of the night before came up. I’d done a complete about-face where Gabrielle was concerned, which confused Adam.

  “You were so angry last night. I thought they’d have to work a little harder to get you on side.”

  “Everything seems to make so much sense now. The whole time I thought he had a mad crush on her, he was torturing himself by lying about it.”

  “He chose to lie about it, Charli. They both did.”

  “I’m not sure they meant to, not for so long anyway. Sometimes Alex gets weird, like he wants to tell me something but then chickens out. Now I know why.”

  He frowned. “Gabi could have told me.”

  “No, she couldn’t. She didn’t want to put you in the position of having to lie to me.”

  His hold on me tightened as he pulled me in closer. “I wouldn’t have lied to you. I would have told you everything I know.”

  I laughed. “That’s why lying is sometimes the best option.”

  “So your mud fight with Gabrielle was a bonding experience?” he asked, lacing my fingers through his.

  The oversized robe slipped off my shoulder and he ran his finger along the strap of my bra.

  “Yeah, in part,” I mumbled, pulling the robe back.

  “Anything you want to share?” he asked, murmuring the words against my neck. He wasn’t playing fair. His touch acted as a truth machine and I’m sure he knew it.

  Gabrielle’s words still rang in my ear. I wanted to tell him that thoughts of following him to New York were trickling into my head. I just couldn’t explain it to him in a way that didn’t make me sound crazy.

  “Another time,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his.

  I heard the clothes dryer beeping, signalling the end of our imprisonment. I prised myself free of his arms.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get dressed. Then we can get out of here.” My jeans were scorching hot on my skin as I dragged them on. The metal button burnt my stomach, making me wince.

  Adam appeared in the doorway. Looking far from sympathetic, he watched me jump around, trying to keep the button clear of my skin. “What’s the hurry? You’re not even prepared to wait for your pants to cool?”

  “The day’s nearly gone. The rain’s stopped. We need to find something to do,” I replied, rushing through my sentences.

  “You’re so pretty when you’re trying to avoid third degree burns,” he said.

  “Thank you. Now let’s go,” I replied, reaching for his hand and dragging him out of the room.

  The mad rush seemed pointless ten minutes later when we were still sitting in Adam’s car, trying to decide where to go.

  “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.

&
nbsp; “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.”