Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3) (14 page)

“The males are big show-offs,” she continued. “They strut and parade around trying to catch the attention of the females.”

“Do I have your attention, Charlotte?” I asked, kissing a line across her warm stomach.

“You have everything of mine,” she breathed.

I smiled against her skin. “What happens next?”

She put her hands on the side of my head, guiding me back to her face. “Well, when a special penguin catches his eye, he presents her with a precious stone foraged from the frozen ground. If she accepts the stone, they start a bond for life. Each year he returns and they find each other again, and another stone is presented as a token of affection. They use the stones to build their nest.”

“So there’s hope for us yet.” I kissed the corner of her mouth. “All I have to do is keep coming back with rocks.”

“There’s always hope for us, Adam,” she said seriously. “No matter what.”

January 2

Charli

The supermarket in Pipers Cove is the social hub of the town. I usually avoided it at all costs, but Adam objected to living on cereal.

Our quick trip to buy a few groceries turned in to a half-day event by the time I’d finished talking to everyone who stopped me. I recounted the last two years of my life and introduced Adam a hundred times. Ever polite, he pretended to be happy to meet every one of them.

“You’re quite the celebrity,” he whispered as we escaped Floss’s next-door neighbour, Mrs Simpson.

“They’re just nosy.”

Alex had obviously told them nothing about my time away. He had epic skill when it came to deflecting gossip.

“Can we get coffee here?” asked Adam hopefully.

I stopped, halting both of us. “You should make a New Year’s resolution, Adam,” I suggested, drumming my finger into his chest.

“I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, Charlotte,” he scoffed. Perhaps that was because his whole life was one big resolution.

“You should give up coffee.”

He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “And what will you give up? Make it painful. It has to be something you’ll miss.”

“You,” I said miserably. “In about a week from now.”

He grabbed the trolley and began pushing it forward again. “We should be enjoying this week,” he said. “Don’t put a dampener on things.”

It was impossible not to. Mitchell’s ninth wave analogy sprung to mind. The feeling of being hit by my rogue wave was getting stronger every day. I couldn’t understand why the despair wasn’t crushing him. “I hate that you function so well without me,” I grumbled. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

Adam turned to look at me. “Is that what you think? I’m miserable without you, Charli. There are words I don’t even say when you’re not around. They’re meaningless,” he rambled. “Everything becomes meaningless. It’s a pathetic existence.”

I smiled wryly. “I feel so much better now.”

He smiled back. “I’m glad you can take comfort in my misery.”

I giggled. “It’s a mutual predicament, Adam.”

* * *

We were loading groceries into the car when I spotted the one person I was actually keen to talk to. Crazy Edna was ambling up the footpath at a snail’s pace.

“Mrs Wilson,” I called. The old woman looked up.

“Who’s that?” asked Adam.

“Crazy Edna.”

Adam grabbed a handful of my sleeve to stop me approaching her. Perhaps he knew how angry I was. I had a major bone to pick with the witchy old shyster. Edna approached us instead and Adam tightened his grip.

“Hello, dear.”

“You’ve caused a lot of trouble in my family, Mrs Wilson.”

“How?” She had the nerve to sound surprised.

“Gabrielle is heartbroken because you told her she was pregnant. She’s not pregnant. Your prediction was wrong.”

The old lady seemed completely unaffected by my lecture.

“I never said she was pregnant.”

“You did!”

She shook her head. “I said I could
see
a child,” she told me. “I stand by that claim.”

She looked at Adam, and had the nerve to smile at him. He was in danger of ripping the sleeve off my shirt now.

“In future, please keep your visions to yourself,” I muttered, making a grab for the last bag of shopping in the trolley.

“The earth talks to me,” insisted Edna, reverting back to her warbly theatrical voice. “It’s my duty to listen. The child I see isn’t the French girl’s.” She leaned forward, speaking to Adam. “It’s yours.”

January 2

Adam

The slow pace of life in Pipers Cove evaporated in an instant. I was now running at full tilt trying to keep up. One minute we were grocery shopping, the next minute we were being thrown for a loop by a crazy old lady in a parking lot.

“Get in the car, Charlotte,” I ordered, determined to put an end to it.

She seemed to have lost the ability to walk.

“You’re a nasty, crazy old woman,” Charli shouted.

Edna barely reacted. I expect that was because she’d heard it before. She pointed at me. “You’re going to run out of time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” barked Charli, throwing her hands in the air. “You said the same thing to me the other day. At least be original in your ramblings.”

I wasn’t prepared to let Edna answer. I’d heard enough. I practically forced Charli into the car. As soon as we were on the road I glanced across at her. She was staring out the window. I grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers. “Say something, please.”

“What if she’s right?”

“Please tell me you’re not buying into this mumbo jumbo.” She shrugged, giving me no reassurance whatsoever. “Charli, I think you’d know if she was right, wouldn’t you?”

Sometimes I adored Charlotte’s take on the world. It was ethereal and enchanting. Other times it was just plain ridiculous – like now. I could deal with fairies and La La Land, not this.

“I don’t know what to think,” she said. “But I know weird things have been happening to me lately.”

“Like?”

She held her hand up. “My curly fry rings fit me. They never used to.”

“You grew into them,” I reasoned. “Give me something a little less La La.”

She frowned. “I’m tired all the time.”

“Jetlag.”

“I’ve been home for weeks, Adam. I don’t think it’s jetlag any more.”

“Maybe you’re sick.”

“Would you prefer it if I was?”

I answered with a disapproving look.

“My period’s late.”

“How late?”

“Late, late.”

I wasn’t sure what late, late meant, but it didn’t sound good. “Charli, how have you not told me this before?”

She shrugged. She actually shrugged. We might as well have been discussing the weather.

“I wanted to wait and see what happens.”

“A freaking baby is what’s going to happen if you’re pregnant.” I thumped the heel of my hand on the steering wheel, totally frustrated with her.

“It’s probably nothing,” she muttered. “I wish I hadn’t told you.”

“Well, we need to find out one way or another. I’m not taking a crazy woman’s word for it. We’ll get one of those test thingies.”

She shook her head. “I can’t just walk in to a shop and buy a pregnancy test. Floss Davis will be knitting booties before we get out the door.”

“Fine. We’ll drive to Hobart. And if that’s not far enough we’ll go to Launceston.”

“Stop it, Adam,” she snapped. “Just give me a minute to think.”

It was a long minute. Charli didn’t say another word in the next half hour. I just kept driving, sticking with my Hobart plan.

“Charli, I need to know.” I sounded desperate. “
We
need to know.”

“Okay. I have a plan,” she announced. “We’re going to steal a test.”

I wasn’t outraged. The only plans Charli ever made were of the criminal variety.

“We’re going to break into my dad’s house,” she continued. “Gabrielle keeps heaps of them in the bathroom cabinet. I’ve seen them. She’ll never notice one missing.”

“What if they’re there?” I asked.

“They’re not there. Alex is at the café and Gabrielle is teaching an art class at the community hall until four.” She waved her phone. “I just texted them both to double check.”

I didn’t question her sketchy plan. I just changed direction and headed for the house.

As expected, no one was there, but it still felt shady.

“Don’t look so panicked, Adam,” said Charli. “A little illegal activity is good for the soul.”

I glanced at her and was met with a smile. “You know, I should be concerned by your enthusiasm,” I told her. “If you pull a balaclava out of your bag, I’m leaving.”

She reached into her bag, wiggling her eyebrows at me. I breathed a small sigh of relief when she produced a set of keys.

“You have keys,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Of course I have keys. It’s my dad’s house. You’re the only person who doesn’t have keys to their parents’ house.”

“My parents probably don’t even have keys to their house. We don’t need keys.”

“No, you don’t,” she agreed. “You use a Mrs Brown to get in.”

“Get out of the car, Charlotte,” I muttered making her laugh.

We made a dash for the bathroom the second we were in the door. Charli opened the cabinet, and a heap of boxes crashed into the sink.

“I told you,” she said, trying to restack them. “Hundreds of the bloody things.”

“Just pick one and let’s go,” I ordered, keeping watch at the door.

“Relax, Adam. You make a terrible thief. You’re so antsy.”

“Charlotte,” I groaned, “can we take this seriously please?”

She picked up a box and began reading the instructions. “I’ll just do it here.”

It occurred to me that I didn’t really know what ‘it’ was. “What do we have to do?”

“You’ve probably done enough.” She tore the wrapper off a white plastic stick and waved it around. “I have to pee on this.”

“So do it,” I said urgently.

She blinked at me a few times. “Are you planning to watch?”

“No, of course not.” I stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed, wishing I were anywhere but in that house. After a long minute, she called me back in.

“Well?”

“I don’t know yet. We have to wait a few minutes.”

Determined not to wait a second longer than necessary, I set the timer on my phone. We said absolutely nothing as the seconds ticked past like hours. We just stared at each other. Every possible scenario played out in my mind – and none of them were particularly good. Charli looked perfectly calm. I had a sinking feeling that she was already picking out names.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“What do you want me to say, Charli?”

“Are you mad?”

“No. It’s just unexpected. I thought we were careful.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t even sound like you believe that.”

I had to concede that she was right. I am sensible and cautious in every aspect of my life, except all things Charlotte. “We’ve had the odd moment, I guess.”

She stepped forward and whispered. “Like your parent’s downstairs powder room at Thanksgiving?”

“A few moments then,” I amended.

“Or the wine cellar at Billet-doux?”

I grinned, because her cheeky expression gave me no choice. “That didn’t count.”

“Oh, it totally counted, Adam.”

My phone beeped, announcing the possible end of life as we knew it. We stared at the white stick on the counter.

“You look at it,” Charli ordered.

I picked it up and studied the result. I couldn’t even pretend to know what it meant. “There are two pink lines. One is pretty faint though.”

Charli re-read the instructions. “Faint counts, Adam.”

“Counts as what?”

“A positive result,” she said flatly.

I learned something that day. Tipping the stick upside down does not make the second line disappear, nor does running it under water. Hiding it in your pocket does, but only until you take it out again.

Charli stared at me while I futilely tried rewinding the last two minutes of our lives. “Can we go home now, Einstein?” she asked finally.

Her sarcasm was warranted. My brain was mincemeat.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

We wandered back to the car like a couple of stunned sheep.

Charli spoke first. “Do you remember the time I told you that I wanted to have ten of your babies?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t really.”

Thank God!

“But one might be lovely,” she added.

It wasn’t the direction I was hoping she’d want to go. Nothing about going through with it seemed right. I just couldn’t think of a tactful way to say so.