The Secret Ingredient of Wishes

by Susan Bishop Crispell

  Rachel shot up, her heart thumping in her chest at the thought of Mary Beth discovering Rachel had kept something as big as finding her sister from her. “You don’t need to do that. It’s a really long drive by yourself, especially if it’s just for a weekend. I’m fine.”

  “Did you really just turn down an opportunity for me to come visit? We haven’t gone this long without seeing each other since we met. Are you sure there’s not something else going on with you? You know you can tell me if there is, right?”

  A few fat drops of rain pelted the window like gunfire. Mary Beth was right. They were each other’s family. And that was enough. “There’s nothing to tell. Promise.”

  * * *

  She had been so focused on whether or not to tell Mary Beth about Lola that she’d forgotten to be nervous about seeing Ashe. Now that Rachel was almost to LUX, her heart rate spiked as she spotted his truck parked out front.

  It’s not a big deal. It probably meant nothing. But she didn’t look in the window as she passed the side of the shop where he was working.

  She hadn’t even put her purse beneath the counter before Everley gripped her arm and spun her around.

  “Interesting end to your first Brews N Cue, huh?” Everley said, leveling her with a grin. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. If I wasn’t such a nice person, I’d be really pissed at you.”

  Rachel touched her fingers to her lips. She could still feel the intensity of Ashe’s kiss. Just remembering it made her light-headed all over again. She glanced through the opening into the other half of the shop. Two men sprayed pale-gray paint onto the walls in long, even strokes. The humming from the sprayers drowned out their conversation. If Ashe was there, he was staying out of sight.

  “It’s not that big a deal. It only happened once.”

  “Really? Lola said you’ve been doing it since you were little.” Everley peeled a sticker from the sheet of labels and squared it up on the lid of a mason jar. She swiped her thumb across it to affix it.

  “Wait, you’re talking about what happened with Lola?” Rachel asked.

  “I was. But now I feel like we should be talking about something else. If you’re keeping another secret from me, I might have to fire you. Spill,” Everley said.

  Rachel’s hand twitched, knocking the pile of lids over. They clattered to the floor in a series of soft, metallic pings. Crouching, she picked up the lids one at a time and willed her hands not to shake as she set them back on the counter. “Sorry,” she managed.

  “About the lids or something else?”

  Rachel walked around Everley and grabbed the pink, ruffle-edged apron from a hook behind the counter. “You don’t really believe Lola, do you?” She laughed and rolled her eyes like the whole thing was ridiculous despite the nerves twisting in her stomach.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s not such a far-fetched idea, especially not in this town. I’m not saying it wasn’t a coincidence or that you hurt her on purpose. But she swore to me she wasn’t lying. And she had no reason to stick to her story if she just made it all up to get Ashe’s sympathy.”

  Her ability might be perfectly acceptable by Nowhere standards, but that didn’t mean anyone would support Rachel if they thought she used it to hurt people. And if Lola got her way, that’s exactly how this would play out.

  “C’mon, Everley,” she said, an edge of fear seeping into her voice. This couldn’t happen. People could not believe what Lola was saying about her. She knotted her hands in the large front pocket of the apron to hide their shaking. “You know if she has you on her side she has a better chance of getting other people to believe her too.”

  Everley slung an arm over Rachel’s shoulder and pulled her close so their temples touched. “You know, I get it. I probably wouldn’t tell anyone either. I’m sure they’d be all over you asking for things nonstop. Probably stupid stuff too. There are so many people out there with no imagination. Now me, I’d wish for something good like the ability to give my lotions real healing powers so I could actually help people.”

  “Wishing for it might not do you any good.” Rachel shifted out of her hold.

  “No, don’t tell me that.” The hint of annoyance in Everley’s voice didn’t register on her face. She smoothed down another label without looking up. “It’s not a coincidence that you came into my shop when you did. I’d just been thinking about how badly I needed to find some help. I mean, I was literally making a mental list of the traits I wanted when I saw you outside and I just knew. There was something about you that just screamed you were the person I was waiting for. Like the universe sent you to me on purpose.”

  “I got lost, Everley. There’s nothing else to it.”

  Everley dropped a lid down with a sharp slap. “You know better than to think I’d believe that. This town is full of lost things and people.”

  “You know, most people would think being able to make wishes come true was the unbelievable option,” Rachel said.

  “Most people don’t live in Nowhere. A lot of strange things happen here, Rachel. And I’ve come to realize that life is much more fun if you think anything’s possible.”

  Not always. Sometimes it makes life really damn hard.

  Rachel turned as someone entered the shop. A blast of hot air and a string of excited barks from a dog somewhere down the sidewalk slipped inside with Ashe. He stopped just inside the door, his T-shirt stretching tight across his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, then lifted his gaze to meet Rachel’s. Her heart reacted before her brain, pounding at just the memory of his lips on hers the night before.

  “Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Rachel said. She caught Everley’s curious stare and looked away. “Let’s go to the other side.”

  “Don’t leave on my account. I promise not to listen,” Everley said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

  “I don’t believe that for a second.” Ashe winked at her as he passed her.

  “Go on, then. Have your secrets. But see if I don’t find out anyway.”

  Rachel touched Everley’s arm and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She followed Ashe into the nearly finished addition. Most of the time, she only caught glimpses of the progress when Everley or Ashe held open the plastic sheeting to talk. The brown paper covering the front windows and door kept the light in the room dim. She took in the calming neutral color of the walls and the dark wood floors peeking between gaps in the drop cloths.

  Ashe hooked a hand around the doorway molding of a small room at the back of the space and let out a sharp whistle. The two painters looked at him over their shoulders without pausing their work. “I’ve gotta talk to Rachel for a few minutes. Don’t bother us unless one of you is dying.”

  They chuckled and turned their smirks back to the wall in front of them, nodding their agreement.

  “In here,” he said to Rachel and motioned her into the room.

  More paper was taped to the window that looked into the rest of the space, giving them as much privacy as a room with no door could. She wiped her sweaty palms on her apron and leaned against the thick wood counter. When Ashe stepped close enough to brush her hair back from her face, she tilted her head back to see him.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m good.”

  “If you say so.”

  “How do you think I should be?” she asked.

  He hooked his thumbs in his front jeans’ pockets. “Pissed. At least that’s what I’d be if someone was starting to spread rumors about me.”

  “There’s nothing I can do about it. Even if I personally told everyone in town that it’s not true, it won’t stop them from wanting it to be real.” It won’t stop it from being real. She dug her nails into her palms to keep from saying the thought out loud.

  “Probably not,” he said, a smile tugging up one side of his mouth. “But here’s the thing. If we let Lola think she’s winning, she’ll leave us alone.”


  Rachel wanted to curl into him and bury her face in his neck. To tell him how much it meant that he was on her side. She settled for straightening so that only an inch of air separated their bodies.

  “Listen, about last night,” Ashe said, pausing to look down at her. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he was trying to work out what he wanted to say. “I didn’t mean to kiss you. Well, obviously I did mean to, I just hadn’t planned on doing it. We’d had such a good day, and I’ve let Lola ruin enough of mine already.”

  Of course he wasn’t interested in her. She hadn’t wanted him to kiss her simply because Catch wished for it. But kissing her because he was angry at Lola was so much worse. Her chest was tight when she asked, “So, it was a pity kiss?”

  “No, more like an I-know-I-shouldn’t-but-this-will-make-everything-better kiss.”

  “If you say so,” Rachel echoed back at him.

  If she’d been paying more attention, she would have seen it coming.

  He had her trapped again. With her back against the counter, the wood pressed into her spine. She put a hand to his chest. His shirt was sticky from the heat. Or maybe it was her palm. Her brain was too muddled for her to tell. When he leaned down, she didn’t move. Couldn’t, even if she’d wanted to.

  His breath was hot on her skin as he persuaded her lips apart. He slid his hands along her jaw, pulling her closer. She pushed up on her toes and pressed into him. She kept her eyes locked on his. He seemed to take it as a challenge and grazed her bottom lip with his teeth. His stubble scraped her skin as he trailed kisses underneath her jaw. Her heart pounded faster, and she couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped.

  When he finally straightened, he smiled at her. “Figured I should show you the difference so that next time I kiss you, you’ll know I mean it.”

  She blinked at him, willing her head to stop spinning. She pressed a hand to his chest. If he’d kept it up much longer she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to stand at all.

  The dimple in his cheek deepened as the smile slid into a self-satisfied smirk. He put his hands around her waist and lifted her like she weighed no more than a pile of rolled-up building plans. He set her on the counter so they were closer to eye level. “That’s better.”

  He kept a firm hand on her hip. His thumb traced lazy circles on a small patch of skin just above the band of her shorts.

  “I just want to put it out there that I like you, in case there’s anyone else,” Ashe said.

  “There’s not,” Rachel said before she thought better of it.

  “Good.”

  He kissed her again, slower this time. The light pressure of his lips on hers had her body yearning for the intensity of a few moments before. The desire simmered in her chest, warming her body as it spread. Her eyes fluttered closed, but her pulse still raced. She dug her nails into the wood and leaned back to break the kiss. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m willing to risk it,” Ashe said. He squeezed her knee to get her to look at him.

  “I’m not sure I am.” Rachel took a deep breath. She willed her pulse to slow and tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. “My life is messy and it seems to spill over onto whoever’s around me. I don’t want to make things worse.”

  “You’re not going to,” Ashe said.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Life is shitty sometimes, Rachel. But what good does it do to run away from everything because you’re afraid of something bad happening?”

  She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. She wasn’t just afraid of something bad happening. She was afraid of being the cause. Again. She couldn’t live with hurting anyone else. “I know you’re right. It’s not rational. But I can’t help it.”

  “Listen, I’m not looking to jump into anything serious. So, let’s just enjoy the fact that we like each other and not put any pressure on ourselves to make it into something else. What do you think?”

  “I can try,” she said. “But if things get to be too much for you—”

  “I’ll run for the hills,” he said, drawing a cross over his heart and smiling.

  She rested her forehead against his chest and smiled. How could she say no to that?

  18

  The lamp was on in the den when Rachel got back to Catch’s place. She contemplated trying to sneak upstairs, but if she wanted to keep her secrets from getting out—and have the possibility at a normal life—she’d need Catch.

  Catch sat in a squat leather chair catty-corner to the fireplace. Despite the muggy heat that poured in through the windows, she had a blanket draped across her lap as she read a cooking magazine.

  “I need your help,” Rachel said. She leaned against the doorway, jamming her hands in her back pockets to keep from fidgeting.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you think I can help you with?”

  “A pie. It doesn’t matter what kind.”

  “Is it for you?”

  “Yes.”

  Catch stuck her finger between the pages of the magazine and closed it, keeping her narrowed eyes on Rachel as if she could read the secret on Rachel’s face. “What have you got to be keeping secret?”

  Nerves sparked along Rachel’s skin, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. Her heart beat frantically at the thought of admitting everything to Catch. “Will it work if I don’t tell you?”

  “You know the rules. You want my help, you tell me what’s bothering you and who you plan on feeding my pie to.”

  “It’s not for you or Ashe, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not. I’ve only known one person stupid enough to try and use my own pies on me. I was married to the bastard. Luckily, he was smart enough to get himself killed and leave me the hell alone,” Catch said, her tone calm, almost amused.

  Catch was probably the only person Rachel knew who could get away with joking about someone’s death being a good thing.

  “But back to you. Whatever it is you’re hiding, you know I’ll find out so you might as well tell me now and let me help you.”

  Rachel bit the inside of her cheek. Catch was right. If Lola started running her mouth to more people about what happened to her at the barbecue festival, Catch would find out anyway. The only way to keep the town from turning against her was to stop Lola before she could convince them Rachel hurt her on purpose.

  “I need the pie for Lola,” she said.

  “You think I’m gonna help you keep her secrets?”

  “Of course not. I need her to keep mine.”

  “What does Little-Miss-Has-No-Heart have on you?” Catch asked, slapping the magazine onto the side table.

  Stepping into the room, Rachel let out a steadying breath. Then the words spilled out. “I can do things like you can. But instead of binding secrets, I make wishes come true. But I don’t always have a handle on it, so sometimes things don’t go right. And Lola is threatening to tell everyone all about it.”

  Catch took the admission in stride, betraying no hint of surprise. “Well, that’s an interesting little tidbit you’ve been keeping all to yourself. You didn’t think that maybe I could help you sooner so that it wouldn’t be an issue if someone found out?”

  “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it’s not something many people know. And the ones that do know never really believed it.” Instead they institutionalized her for a month and then kept her in therapy for years. That wasn’t a worry this time around. But being forced to leave Nowhere when she was just finding her place in it—when she was seriously tempted to stay for good—could be just as devastating.

  She rocked back on her heels and met Catch’s curious look. “I don’t know how many people Lola’s told, but if I can stop her from telling anyone else, maybe I can do damage control until I can figure out how to keep the wishes under control. Do you think that’ll work?”

  “Let’s find out.” Catch braced her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed herself up. She swayed on
shaky legs. After a few seconds, she steadied and slapped at Rachel’s arm when she offered it. “The day I can’t make it to the damn kitchen on my own is the day you can call Hubert down at the morgue to come collect my body, dead or not.”

  There was a defeated edge to her tone that took away some of Catch’s usual bite.

  To keep from going down a path neither of them wanted to think about, Rachel said, “Huh, I didn’t realize the morgue offered retirement home services.” She waited to make sure Catch wasn’t going to fall.

  “At least the company there wouldn’t talk back.” Catch swatted Rachel again as she shuffled past her toward the kitchen.

  A ball of dough was already waiting on the counter. A glass pie dish, canister of flour, rolling pin, and paring knife sat next to it, almost as if Catch had been expecting this.

  Catch rolled the dough in a circle, testing its malleability. She picked at the plastic wrap covering it. Her swollen knuckles made her small hands look frail. She dumped the ball onto the counter with a loud thump.

  “Well, make yourself useful. Grab that stick of butter and rub down the pie dish. Make sure to coat it evenly,” Catch said.

  Rachel smeared the softened stick of butter on the side of the glass in long, even strokes and swirled it across the bottom. When she held the dish out for inspection, she received a grunt in return. She set it on the counter and asked, “What do I do next?”

  “There’s a derby pie filling already in the fridge that I didn’t get to earlier. That work for you?”

  “That’s fine.” Rachel removed the walnut, chocolate, and bourbon mixture from the refrigerator and stirred it when Catch thrust a wooden spoon at her. “So, how does it work?”

  “You’ve got to concentrate on the secret, repeat it in your mind until it’s the only thing you can see, feel, smell.”

  Rachel thought about Michael, about her parents, about how she’d ruined everyone’s lives with a careless wish. She thought about how Ashe and Catch would never again trust her if they knew the truth, what damage she could really do. She held her breath. Five seconds passed, then ten. She blew it out and waited.