Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3) (34 page)

All I could hear was the howling wind and the rattling of the dodgy old windows. I wasn’t in any pain, nor was I feeling panicked or hurried. All I could feel was Adam’s relief and total calm.

Finally, he stood, taking my face in his trembling hands.

“I want you to know,” he struggled to get the words out, “I –”

“Shush.” I cut him off. “There’s nothing I need to hear right now.”

I wasn’t up to listening. And despite the fact I had a million things to say, I wasn’t up to talking either. I kissed him instead, covering all bases. It was a welcome-back and a glad-you-came-to-your-senses and an apology all rolled into one. I considered it a brave move on my part. I had no idea how he’d react, but when I felt his body relax against mine I knew that for now, it was enough.

Feeling the first twinge in my belly, I broke free. “Can you get something for me?”

He swiped his hands down his face, pulling himself together. “Anything. What do you need?”

“A shovel.”

He looked at me quizzically and put his hand to my forehead. It was a familiar gesture that I’d missed terribly. Checking for a temperature was common practice when crazy kicked in.

“There’s one in the garage,” I added.

“I’m fairly sure you’re not going to need a shovel, Charli,” he said, sounding more like himself. “And if you do, the hospital probably has one of their own.”

He spotted my overnight bag on the floor and leaned down to pick it up.

“Please, Adam. Just work with me here.”

He slung the bag over his shoulder and reached for my hand. “I am going to work with you for the rest of my life.”

“I appreciate that. Now get me a shovel.”

* * *

Adam dutifully loaded my bag, the shovel and me into his car. Once we were on the road, I laid out my plan.

“We have to stop at Alex’s house.”

“Can’t we just call him?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t think they’re home anyway. I just need to pick something up.”

Adam took his eyes off the road for longer than he should have, but didn’t question me. He was outwardly calm. The only hint that we were in a hurry was the fact that we got to Alex’s in record time. He jumped out of the car and ran to open my door.

“Do you have your key?”

“We don’t need to go in. Grab the shovel.”

“We’re digging?” He sounded appalled.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Adam. What else would we need a shovel for?”

“We’re digging?” he repeated.

“
You’re
digging,” I clarified, patting his chest. “I might sit this one out if that’s okay.”

I’d spent fifteen years debating how to spend the box of wishes that I’d buried. I’d come close to digging it up a couple of times, but always managed to talk myself out of it. Today seemed like the perfect day to unearth it – if only I could remember where it was buried.

I didn’t have the heart to tell Adam that I wasn’t exactly sure where it was, but after digging the third hole and coming up empty, I think he cottoned on.

“This is ridiculous,” he complained, sounding more worried than irate.

“Please. Try there.” I pointed to his left, in between two geranium bushes.

“Last hole,” he warned, looking up at the angry sky. “The baby’s coming, the rain’s coming, and this is getting us nowhere.”

“Let me call Alex.” I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and swiped the screen. “Please pick up, please pick up,” I whispered, walking back to the car.

“Charlotte Blake,” crooned my father after the third ring. “What can I do for you today?”

I cut to the chase. “Alex, where’s my box buried?”

“The box of wishes?”

He knew exactly what I was talking about, which proved something I’d known for a very long time. My dad was all shades of awesome.

“Yes.”

“You’re digging it up today? I would’ve liked to have been there for that.” He actually sounded disappointed. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’m having a baby today.”

I probably should’ve worded it better. Alex freaked out. I couldn’t make much sense of the orders he was barking at me because my focus was on Adam, who’d just dug up my box.

“Is this it?” he called, holding up a dirty parcel wrapped in plastic.

I nodded, moving the phone away from my ear to dull the sound of my father’s rant.

“Alex, listen,” I urged, putting the phone back to my ear.

“No, you listen. Where are you, my house or yours? I’ll come and get you.”

“No need,” I replied, watching Adam walk toward me, box in hand. “Adam is here. He just found my box.”

“Oh,” he replied, instantly mollified. “Good. That’s good news. You won’t need me then.”

“I’m always going to need you, Dad,” I promised. “Just not at this very minute.”

“I love you, Charli,” he told me. “Good luck with your chicken.”

I ended the call as Adam reached me. Just as he handed me the box, a whole world of pain raged through me. He somehow managed to catch me and the box as I doubled over.

“Please, please, please can we go now?” he begged, opening the car door. “Sit.”

I shook my head, fobbing him off. I didn’t want to sit. I didn’t want to stand either. I had no clue what I wanted to do, but thankfully the pain passed and I didn’t have to decide. I turned my attention back to the box, taking it from Adam and tearing the wrapping off.

He was curious enough to wait, but indignation set in the second I lifted the broken lid. “Shells and toys?” His voice was calm but frustration was evident. “Charli, I’ve just spent twenty minutes digging up shells and toys?”

I closed the broken lid as best I could. “Every wish I saved until I was five is in this box. I might need them today.”

He stared at me, nervously chewing his bottom lip while he thought it through. “Okay,” he said finally. “Can we go now, please?”

“Finally,” I huffed cheekily. “I’ve been waiting on you for a really long time.”

June 29

Adam

We were half way to Hobart when the next contraction hit. The rain started at the same time, which meant I had no choice but to slow down. It was a manoeuvre that didn’t impress Charli.

“Let me drive,” she growled through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told her, reaching over to put my hand on her stomach.

She slapped me away. “Don’t touch me. You can’t ever touch me. Never, ever, ever.”

“Okay,” I agreed, holding my hand up in surrender. “I’ll keep a safe distance.” I glanced across. She’d tightened her grip on the box in her lap.

“Tell me about the box, Charli.” It was a desperate attempt to take her mind off the pain. “Tell me about the stuff in it.”

She flipped the lid open. “I don’t remember most of the things in here. Just the shells.”

“Tell me about them.”

Her explanation was understandably short and fractured but I managed to piece together the gist. Every ounce of faith Charli possessed was contained in a broken wooden box. I didn’t necessarily believe in it, but I understood.

“So each shell represents two wishes?” She nodded, pursing her lips as she blew out a hard breath. I glanced into the box. “You’re loaded, Charli. Totally wish rich.”

She managed a laugh and her breathing evened out. “I’ll share them with you,” she offered.

I didn’t need them. I couldn’t wish for more than I’d been given in the last hour. I was no longer standing on the edge of La La Land looking in; I was right in the middle of it, looking out, and I was finally beginning to realise what a prime position it was.

* * *

We were quiet for a while. Charli seemed distracted by the teeming rain and flashes of lightning. I had a million thoughts running through my mind to keep me occupied. I was sure I’d stumbled across an emotion that no man had ever felt before. I’d monumentally screwed up and selfishly thrown away everything that meant anything – only to have it all handed back to me in an instant. I could barely make sense of it.

“She’s early, Adam,” said Charli, snapping me back to the moment.

I glanced at her. “A month, right?”

“Four weeks, four days, to be exact.”

I worked hard to come up with something encouraging to say. I had no clue whether to be worried or not. I was winging it. We both were.

“Maybe she’s big,” I suggested. It may have been the dumbest thing I’d ever said to her.

Charli practically lost the plot. “Yes. She’s probably huge,” she wailed, throwing out her arms. “You’re fifteen feet tall and I’m tiny. She’s going to take after you. This is never going to work. They’re going to have to saw me in half to get her out. There’s going to be blood and guts everywhere.”

I quickly backpedalled. “No, no, no. I won’t let that happen. I swear.”

“Shut up, Adam. You suck,” she sobbed.

I wasn’t game enough to speak again.

Nothing else was said until we pulled up at the emergency entrance of the hospital. Charli tried her best to strike a deal with me. “Take me home,” she blurted, grabbing my hand. “If you take me home, I promise I’ll come back tomorrow and do this.”

I bit my bottom lip, trying really hard not to smile. Smiling would’ve gotten me killed at that point.

I moved my free hand to the side of her face. I couldn’t work out which one of us was trembling. “We’re going to do this and then we’re going to have a wonderful life here, just the three of us.”

Her lovely brown eyes widened as she thought it through. “You’re staying here?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“What about your job?”

“Charli, we have all the time in the world to talk about this. Let’s just focus on –”

She pulled away and gripped the dashboard with both hands, cutting me off with a terrible pained moan. I couldn’t stand it. I practically fell out of the car and rushed to help her out.

“Get my stuff,” she wailed, falling into my arms as I opened her door.

“I’ll come back for it,” I assured.

“Okay,” she whimpered, clinging to me. “But leave the shovel. We don’t need the shovel.”

* * *

The adage about the calm coming before the storm didn’t apply to us. The storm came first, and four hours later I was in the unbelievably calm position of holding my tiny daughter in my arms.

Despite being a few weeks early, she was perfect – just small and in a hurry, much like her mother. I thought she looked like her mother too, which suited me fine. My tiny girl had an angelic little face, lips shaped like a kiss and a killer frown when unhappy. She also had Charli’s cheeks, which made her exceptionally perfect. There was no dimple in sight, which meant she’d be spared a lifetime of cheek poking at the hands of her mama.

Everything had gone exactly according to plan, which was phenomenal considering there wasn’t one. If living in the moment meant having more days like this, I was content to never make another plan in my life.

Charli slept. Part of me wanted to shake her awake and tell her how truly amazing I thought she was. A bigger part of me wanted to live to see another day so I left her alone. I spent time getting to know our new baby instead.

I paced the quiet room holding the weightless bundle in my arms. There was so much I wanted to tell her and I found myself absently drifting between two languages as I spoke.

Promising her the world wasn’t difficult. I meant every word of it. My daughter didn’t care what a jerk I could be, or how I’d come dangerously close to missing out on her. When her dark blue eyes locked on mine for the first time, with a look reserved just for me, I was done. I was already a better man than I’d ever been before.

“Show-off,” mumbled Charli. “She’s probably not impressed by your accent at all, you know.”

I turned, not even trying to dull the idiotic grin on my face. “You didn’t sleep for long.”

“I’m not tired.”

Despite the obvious lie, I lowered the sleeping baby into her arms.

“She suits you, Charlotte,” I said, sweeping my hand through her tangled hair.

She grinned at me, and at that moment she’d never looked more beautiful. She was sunshine and warmth, my heart and the mother of my child.

“She suits you too,” she replied.

I half smiled but couldn’t find the words to speak. It was a terrible reaction. It made me seem unsure.

Charlotte looked down at the tiny bundle, cradling the top of her head with her palm. “Did you mean it when you said you’d stay, Adam?” she asked quietly. “It’s okay if you didn’t. We can work something out. I’m sure I said a hundred things I don’t mean in the last few hours.”

I pulled a chair close to the bed. “So you didn’t really mean it when you said you were going to sue me for physical and emotional distress?”

She cringed at the unwanted reminder. “No, probably not.”

I sighed, feigning relief. “Well, that’s good news. You had me worried for a moment.”