Saving Wishes (The Wishes Series) (41 page)

“Who? Adam?”

“Of course, Adam,” I grumbled. “Who else?”

“Well!” she said theatrically. “It’s funny you should mention him. I got a letter this morning. He usually sends me emails so it was a wonderful surprise to see that he’d put pen to paper.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crisp white envelope.

“Did he mention me?” I asked, trying to ignore the fact that she was waving the envelope in my face.

“Of course he did. You may read it,” she permitted.

I pushed her hand away, unable to imagine being desperate enough to read a letter he’d written to someone else. “No,” I griped.

“Charli, it might be good for you.” She sang her words, trying to tempt me.

“No, vitamins are good for you. Reading someone else’s mail is not good for you, it’s creepy,” I retorted.

Gabrielle squared her shoulders and huffed loudly. Emotional restraint wasn’t her strong point. When she was cross, the whole world knew about it. Huffing, I could handle.

“How many classes are you failing at school?” Conversations with the Parisienne were often confusing. I’d given up trying to conquer that problem.

“One. French,” I replied, pulling a face at her.

“That’s right. You owe me one more assignment before the end of your school career.” She held one finger in the air, emphasising her point.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow. You’ll just have to fail me.”

“No, I’ll give you a chance. Take this letter and translate it in its entirety. If you do it well – without cheating – I’ll pass you.” She smiled like she’d offered me the chance of a lifetime.

It was a futile exercise. Leaving school early meant there was no chance of graduating anyway.

I pointed to the letter in her hand. “Those words weren’t meant for me.”

“Charli, the French language wasn’t meant for you.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Why would I want to read it?”

“Because you love Adam. And when you love someone, you do all sorts of dreadful things.”

She’d made that statement many times and it made no more sense now than it had the first time. I was about to demand an explanation when she jumped to her feet. The grumbling V8 engine in the distance explained why.

The letter fluttered onto my lap as she dropped it. “I’ll give you one week to translate,” she said in her best schoolteacher voice. “No extensions, no excuses.”

“I’ll think about it,” I mumbled, stuffing the envelope into my pocket.

It took forever for Alex to mosey up to the veranda. He seemed more interested in the apple he was eating than in making it to the house.

“Hey,” he said, sitting in the spot Gabrielle had vacated seconds earlier.

“Alex, I’ve got to tell you something really important.” I didn’t mean to sound as bleak as I did but my tone didn’t seem to affect him.

He took another bite of his apple. “When are you leaving town, Charli? Jasmine came in as I was closing up, busting to tell me that you and Mitchell are flying the coop.”

Damn Jasmine Tate and her bionic hearing!

I’d anticipated a ferocious argument, but he was as calm as I’d ever heard him. I was supposed to ease into it, explaining my reasons before sitting back and watching him explode.

“The day after tomorrow.”

He didn’t react, unless munching an apple could be considered a reaction. Finally he glanced at me, still looking nothing like a man in danger of detonating. Pegging it as hard as he could, Alex threw the core into the garden.

“Fairy food,” he told me.

I said nothing, waiting for the diatribe to begin.

“Carol came into the shop today too,” he told me, completely off subject. “She’s aged a hundred years overnight.”

“Has she heard from Nicole?”

“Not a peep. She’s absolutely devastated because she doesn’t think Nicole is going to handle the big bad world on her own. And I think she’s right.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because her kid believed every cockamamie story my kid ever told her. That makes her a few feathers short of a whole duck. Remember that year her mum made angel cake for her birthday party?” He smiled at the ancient memory. “Carol sent you home early because you told Nicole that angel cake was made with real angels.”

I did remember. It was her sixth birthday party. Nicole freaked out; bawling like the world was ending when her mother tried to cut the cake. She refused to eat it and screamed at anyone else who dared to take a bite. Carol was so furious that she left the party to drive me home.

“She told me I was a monster.”

Alex chuckled, exactly the way the father of a monster should. “I can still remember watching her march you up to the house,” he mused. I wondered if it was something I was supposed to apologise for. Realistically it would take years to say sorry for all of my past misdeeds. I had no idea why he was mentioning it now. “Carol took great delight in telling me how naughty you were. You strutted up that path with your lopsided pigtails like you owned the world.” He stared at the path, almost as if he could see it all over again. His eyes drifted back to mine. “The point is, she told me today that she wished you had gone too. She would have felt a lot better knowing that you were with her.”

“Because I’m a monster?”

“No, because
you
are ready for this. I’ve spent your entire lifetime trying to rein you in. Maybe it’s time to stop doing that.”

“I am ready for this, Alex. I’ve wanted this forever.” I hoped I spoke seriously enough for him to believe me.

“The timing sucks, Charli.”

“I know it’s not perfect but I can finish school later,” I reasoned.

He frowned like he didn’t believe a word I’d just said. I wasn’t sure I did either.

“Please tell me you have a plan. Mitchell can be the brawn but I’m relying on you to be the brain. Your money won’t last long unless you’re careful with it.”

I knew Alex was taking comfort in the knowledge that I had the proceeds of
La Coccinelle
. It was a bubble I had no intention of bursting.

“Tomorrow, I’ll have a plan. I’ve left it up to Mitch to book the tickets.”

Alex tutted. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been quite so honest. “Oh, great,” he grumbled. “You’re going to end up in a jungle somewhere.”

I was slightly irked by his lack of faith. “He’ll look after me. You know that.”

“I actually wish Boy Wonder was around.”

Cue the unintentional dagger through my heart.

The habit of saying what you’re really thinking when not concentrating was obviously hereditary. Alex grimaced. “Sorry, Charli. I didn’t mean – ”

“It’s okay.” I cut his bumbling apology short. “I miss him too, but it doesn’t change anything.”

Alex looked stunned, suddenly awakened to the growing regret I’d been feeling for the past month. Sometimes being such an accomplished liar bothered me.

“Do you think you made a mistake?”

I nodded. “I’m certain of it. I think I lost more than I’m ever going to have again. I love him even more now that he’s gone, and that wasn’t even supposed to be possible.”

It was a strange confession to make, but not an uncomfortable one.

“Are you going to go to him, Charli?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No. I promised him he’d get his old life back. No drama, no crazy. Staying away is the least I can do,” I said, smiling artificially. Even talking about him was crushing. I could accept that Adam was gone forever a whole lot better if I could find a way of getting over him.

“Adam always liked your drama. That bothered me. And there was enough crazy to destroy a small village, but he liked that too.”

“Yeah, well, you told me to take intensity over longevity, remember?” My voice took on a defensive edge and he was instantly remorseful, flinching as if I’d reminded him of something terrible.

“I’m going to tell you something. I want you to remember it always, okay?” I nodded. He continued without pausing. “On your travels you’re always going to have three choices.”

“Only three?”

“There’s only three that I’m comfortable with.”

“Okay.”

“If you’re ever unsure, you can always come home to me. You can revisit a safe place you’ve been to, or you can find your way to Adam.” He ticked off my options on his fingers as he spoke.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“They’re the only three I’m comfortable with, Charli,” he repeated. “If you remember those options, I’ll feel much better about taking a step back from the tree.”

“You’re not going to try catching me this time?” I teased.

“I don’t think you’re going to need me when you jump this time.” Alex looked straight at me. “This time, I think you’re going to fly.”

29. Magic

It’s amazing how quickly a plan can come together when there isn’t actually a plan.

We were bound for Mauritius. Mitchell and Ethan had been there the year before, and after hearing Mitchell’s stories of white beaches and endless sunshine, I was getting excited.

Saying goodbye to Alex was every bit as hard as I expected. We stood in the front yard and hugged each other harder and longer than we ever had before.

“You’re the very best part of me, Charli. I love you,” he whispered, choking on the words.

I searched my heart for something I had never said before, wondering if the words would sound wrong. “I love you, Dad,” I whispered.

I felt Alex buckle. He held me tighter and I knew that to him, those four words sounded perfect. I wrestled free, unwilling to prolong the agony.

Big things awaited him too. By Christmas, Gabrielle and Alex planned to be in the south of France. I’d pulled her aside the night before and made her promise to make sure he went through with it.

“I will give him no choice,” she said, looking ferocious. I believed her. Alex’s no-compromise policy didn’t seem to apply to Gabrielle. He was capable of moving heaven and earth for her, and with me gone he’d be more likely to do it.

I refused to let Alex drive us to Hobart. There was no point dragging out a long farewell. We took my car instead, which turned out to be a coup. Next to the airport, amongst the car rental companies, was the junkiest car yard in existence. The shifty-looking salesman handed me two hundred bucks and a stomach-churning wink in return for my little car. It was another goodbye I was sad to make.

My old life was fading very quickly.

After a quick flight, we were in Melbourne. We made our way to the international airport terminal. That was where my naivety began to get the better of me and I had to ask Mitchell for help. I had no idea about filling out a departure card or clearing customs, but he was an old pro. After helping me with mine, he completed his card in seconds, including his passport number, which he knew by heart.

Once we were on the plane I began to relax a little. Sleep on the long flight was impossible, for me anyway. Mitchell was dozing before we’d even taken off. I passed the time reading for a while, confident that in case of an emergency I’d read the passenger safety card enough times to be able to save my own life – ignoring the thirty thousand foot nosedive into the sea, that is.

The elderly lady to my right was chatty, and I appreciated the company. Her English was fractured and I recognised her accent instantly.

“Are you French?” I asked, accusingly.

The lines on her aged face crinkled as she smiled. “Mauritian Creole. My name is Heloise.”

I frowned as I shook her hand, convinced that the French language was taking over the world. “My name is Charli.”

Heloise snickered in a way that made her frail body shake. “You have a boy’s name,” she said.

I took no offence. “My father named me after a spider,” I told her, making her cackle again.

We were quiet for a while. It was Heloise who spoke again, to ask my reason for travelling to Mauritius. I hadn’t taken me long to work out she was hard of hearing. Explaining my lifelong dreams of travel would have been an ordeal, so I summed it up in one word. Surfing.

“I will draw you a map, for the big waves,” she told me, pinching her thumb and forefinger together, pretending to write in the air.

Thrilled at the prospect of finding a surf beach that Mitchell didn’t know about, I reached under my seat for my bag, fossicking around in it for pen and paper. The only paper I could find was the envelope Gabrielle had given me. Inside it was Adam’s letter.

She’d promised me a passing grade if I translated without cheating. Was asking Heloise to translate cheating? Perhaps it was bending the rules – but I did it anyway.

“It will be broken,” she told me, referring to the difference in dialect.

“No worries,” I assured her, unfolding the letter.

Heloise reluctantly took it and began to read.

At first, I couldn’t understand Gabrielle’s eagerness for me to read it. Adam wrote about his first few weeks in law school, his family and his friends. It was lovely to hear – but not meant for me. None of it was meant for me; but there had to be a reason the pushy Parisienne insisted that I read it.