Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3) (7 page)

“Both of you?” My voice was high with surprise. Surely Alex’s fertility wasn’t in question. I was living proof that all his parts were in perfect working order.

For some reason, he laughed. “It’s been twenty years since I fathered my first child. I suppose a lot can happen in twenty years. We just needed to be sure that –”

“That you’re not too old?”

“Yes, because thirty-seven is positively ancient,” he replied.

I laughed. He managed a coy smile.

“No wonder she’s so uptight.”

“Just go easy on her, Charli. Gabi has a lot on her mind.”

I nodded. “I hope it works out for you.”

He shrugged. “Of course it will. I keep reminding her that I make beautiful, clever children and it will be worth the wait. There’s another kid out there for me. Once came much earlier than expected and the other is taking a little longer, that’s all.”

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his middle. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. Nothing else needed to be said.

* * *

Alex was furious when he found out I’d been travelling without a phone. I drowned out most of the lecture but I recall the terms ‘serial killer’ and ‘shallow grave’ being bounced around a couple of times.

Before he left the cottage, he presented me with a new one. “Don’t lose it,” he warned.

I stayed in the garden long after Alex left, sitting at the weather-beaten picnic table enjoying the summer sun on my back. I toyed with the idea of breaking in the new phone by calling Adam. Then I calculated the time difference and realised it was after one in the morning in New York. I also remembered that we weren’t together any more. We weren’t supposed to have anything to say to each other.

I put my phone to another use and emailed Bente. Through all the craziness, we’d kept in touch in the few months since she’d left New York with Lucas, her wannabe rock star boyfriend.

As it turned out, life on the road was not for Bente. Nor was Lucas. They’d only made it as far as Boston when she realised that she liked her men a little more clean cut – a little more Décarie-esque perhaps. Within a week she’d landed a job reporting for a small community newspaper, found an apartment, and was happier than ever.

In my last email, I’d told her that I’d left Adam and travelled the long way home via Africa.

I told you he was a frog
, she’d emailed.
I’m glad you came to your senses
. I couldn’t help smiling.

I composed my reply, defending my frog for a few lines before taunting her with mention of the glorious summer weather. I’d just hit the send button when someone called my name. I looked up to see Flynn Davis leaning against the low wooden fence that separated the cottage’s yard from the property next door.

“Flynn, hi,” I said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he replied, thumb pointing at the house behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“Not breaking and entering, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m staying here for a while.”

“I wasn’t thinking that for a second,” he replied, laughing. “It’ll be good to have you around, Charli.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I think it’s going to be good being around.”

* * *

Using his key to get in, Alex woke me at a ridiculously early hour the next morning. “Charli, you have to get up.”

It wasn’t even light. I groaned but it did little to save me from the infantile man in the doorway flicking the light switch on and off.

“Alex, I’m tired. Go away.”

“No chance of that, Charli. We’re going to the beach,” he said, far too enthusiastically. “A bit of fresh air will do you good.”

“No, sleep will do me good. Take Gabrielle to the beach.”

“Gabs doesn’t do the beach at dawn. You do.”

He tugged my blankets. I gripped the top of my bedding, fighting to stay covered. “No,” I protested. “Go home.”

“No chance. We’re driving down to Cobb.”

Cobb beach was south of the Cove. Alex surfed there because he had skill. The waves were huge because they were only a metre or two above a jagged reef. I didn’t surf there because I liked the idea of living to see my thirties.

“I don’t do Cobb, Alex.” The words came out in a growl.

“You don’t need to go in the water. You can sit in the sand and watch me in awe.”

Fabulous.

“You’re not going to leave me be, are you?”

I lost my grip on the blankets as he gave one last tug. “Nope. Now get up.”

* * *

It was my first excursion to the beach since I’d been home and – not that I’d ever admit it to Alex – it was worth getting out of bed for. As soon as I got out of the ute I realised I’d missed everything about it. The mild December morning was crisp. The overcast sky and dark ocean was the biggest reminder of all that I was home.

I followed Alex down the sandy trail that cut through the heavily vegetated dune, stopping to pick a few long reeds. Alex was already dragging on his wetsuit by the time I caught up. I looked out to sea and felt a pang of jealousy. Huge waves thundered to shore, pounding onto the sand. I desperately wished I could follow him out there.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

I waved the reed at him. “Did you drag me down here to taunt me?”

He laughed, a wonderful deep sound that I hadn’t even realised I’d missed until I heard it. “Do you wish I’d left you in bed?”

“No,” I conceded. “This is where I’m supposed to be this morning.”

He began digging a groove in the sand with his foot. “Is today going to be difficult for you, Charli?” he asked gently. My mind spun as I tried to figure out what he was talking about. “I thought bringing you down here for an hour or two might take your mind off things.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh.” His face brightened, instantly relieved by my indifference. “Okay then. Well, if you need me, I’ll be out there.” He pointed out to sea.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Just go.” I zipped my hoodie all the way up to my neck, wrapped myself in Alex’s towel and slumped down in the cool sand. I watched him jog down to the waterline, shift the board from under his arm and barrel into the waves in one fluid motion, showing no hesitation whatsoever.

We were wired exactly the same way. At times my father was just as mercurial and extreme as I was. Ironically, those were the traits that made him worry incessantly about me.

Jumbled daydreaming kept me occupied for a long time. As the morning progressed, a few other diehard surfers joined Alex out on the break while people on their morning walk began strolling the length of the beach. One of the walkers was Meredith Tate, the Beautifuls’ mother. I recognised Nancy the half-bald Pomeranian first. The ugly little beast obviously hadn’t conquered her eczema problem.

I stayed put, rugged up in the sand at the base of the dunes, looking enough like a vagabond that with luck she’d steer clear of me. I didn’t want to talk to her. I knew she’d quiz me about Mitchell. He’d made a vague promise that he’d be home for Christmas and I didn’t want to be the one to break it to her that he had no intention of following through. I took my phone out of my pocket and checked the date on the screen, wondering how many days Mitchell had before he’d break his mother’s heart.

In an instant, the reason for Alex’s offer to take my mind off things became clear. It was Christmas Eve. It had been a year to the day since I’d married the man who, despite everything, I wholeheartedly loved.

It seemed a shame to let the occasion pass without acknowledgement. I grabbed my phone and snapped a quick picture of the sea. I scrolled through to Adam’s number and hit send, praying I wouldn’t regret it.

December 23

Adam

The weather that evening was horrendous. The snowstorm outside kept Ryan and me holed up in the apartment. He was probably there against his will. I had nowhere to be anyway.

Ryan likes to cook when he’s bored. It’s his thing. He’s like a mad professor in the kitchen, turning simple recipes into science experiments. Tonight’s effort was some sort of cake.

He kicked my feet off the coffee table and set his masterpiece down. I think that was the moment I was supposed to tell him how amazing it looked.

“Well?” he prompted.

I shrugged. “It’s a pink cake.”

“Yes,” he said seriously. “It’s a pink cake. I think I used too much beet juice. What do you think?”

“I think you’re a girl.”

The only thing that saved me from wearing the cake was my phone beeping. I picked it up. I didn’t recognise the number and there was no message, but I recognised the picture instantly. It was a beach at Pipers Cove. I should’ve guessed that’s where Charli would go. All roads lead to Alex. It was the first rule of La La Land.

“It’s from Charli, isn’t it?” Ryan guessed. “Tell her to sign my papers.”

“No. I don’t care about your papers. I doubt she does either.”

“What does she want?” I ignored him, leaving him to jump to his own conclusions. “She’s joined a clan of travelling Peruvian basket weavers, hasn’t she?”

“No. She sent me a picture.” I could feel myself grinning. “Tonight the universe doesn’t completely suck.”

To anyone else the gesture would’ve seemed tiny, but in my mind she’d thrown me a lifeline. I’d spent days worrying that she’d never speak to me again.

I typed and deleted my reply fifty times before giving up and dropping my phone on the table. A text just wasn’t going to cut it.

“What are you doing, Adam?” Ryan grumbled. “Let it go.”

“I have the next two weeks off,” I said, thinking out loud. “Now that I know where she is, I could spend it with her.”

He let out a long sigh. “You’re just setting yourself up for another fall.”

I didn’t care. As long as every ending we suffered brought on a new beginning, it would be worth it. “I’m going to do this,” I told him, jumping to my feet. “I want to see her.”

He called out as I got to the doorway. “Can I give you a bit of advice before you go?”

Nothing he said could blacken my mood. “Sure.”

“If she lets you in the door, don’t ruin it,” he said flatly. “She’s much smarter than you, which means you’re not going to get too many more chances where Charli’s concerned. Don’t tell her you’d do anything for her. She knows it’s not true.”

For once he was right. I vowed not to promise her anything. I’d done enough damage that way already.

December 25

Charli

I’d assumed that being slapped in the face was as bad as a Christmas Day could get. I was wrong.

Having lunch at Floss and Norm Davis’s was a given. It was a tradition that had been in place since I was four years old. As much as Alex and I loved their company, Floss’s vegan fare left a lot to be desired.

The guest list was as dodgy as the menu this year, thanks to the sudden influx of Davises in town. Policeman Flynn and his big brother Wade made the list – along with Wade’s plus one, his delightful fiancée, Jasmine Tate.

I trudged up to the steps of the Davis’s front porch, trailing behind Alex and Gabrielle reluctantly. Floss met us at the door with outstretched arms and a huge grin on her ruby red lips. One by one she pulled us into a tight hug before allowing us to file through the door. “Welcome home, my darling,” she crooned, smooshing me against her chest. “You look beautiful.”

I smiled. “Thanks Floss, so do you.”

Floss looked very…festive. Gingerbread and candy cane brooches jazzed up her green tent-like dress and she wore a gold tinsel headband in her curly red hair.

Alex moved straight to the kitchen. Gabrielle made a beeline for the Christmas tree to add our gifts to the pile. I wasn’t quite sure how to busy myself. After shifting a sleeping cat, I sat on one of the velvet recliners.

“Where is everyone, Floss?”

“They’ll be here, Lovie,” she replied, shifting the lace curtain aside to peer out. “Any minute now.”

Alex and Norm came back a moment later, beers in hand, debating the riveting topic of how best to change the blades on a lawnmower. Gabrielle shifted a cat and sat on the chair next to mine. “You spent Christmas with Jean-Luc and Fiona last year, didn’t you?” she asked, leaning over to whisper the question.

“Yes.”

“Did they have a lovely tree?” She stared at the Christmas tree in the corner of the room and sighed heavily. “They always have an outstanding tree.”

Floss’s tree would never have been described as outstanding. The top half of the plastic green branches displayed chintzy coloured baubles. I wondered aloud why the bottom half was bare.

Floss chimed in. “The cats attack it.” She picked up a floppy grey cat and cradled it like a baby. “Prevention is better than cure.”

Flynn Davis arrived next. After being swamped by one of his grandma’s hugs, he made it in the door. He looked different without the starchy police uniform, but nervous and ill at ease. His powder blue-and-white plaid shirt was tucked into his dark blue jeans. His brown belt matched his brown boots. All that was missing was a cowboy hat. Floss proudly introduced him to the room.