Storm Shells

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “Not for me,” I replied, moving to kiss her. “I’ll just keep coming back here, or somewhere like it.”

  As things stood, I was prepared to bounce back to her indefinitely. That was my plan. I wondered what hers was.

  “Charlotte,” I murmured, “what are you going to do while you’re here?”

  “I don’t know,” she said vaguely. “Maybe I’ll take on some shifts at the café or something. What do you think?”

  My head fell back on the pillow. “I think it’s a waste of a beautiful mind.”

  She should’ve been shooting higher.

  “Do you think Alex wasted his mind when he opted for a quiet life at the beach?”

  “It’s different, Charli.”

  “No, it’s not. Life here isn’t inferior to the one you’ve chosen. It’s just different. It’s quiet. I want quiet.”

  “I wasn’t passing judgement. Live your quiet life.”

  “I will. I think I deserve it after...” Her voice trailed off and she looked away from me, but I pieced the rest of her sentence together without trouble.

  I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her fingers. “I will tell you every day how sorry I am if you want. I can’t change what happened.”

  “Stop talking, Adam,” she muttered, looking to the ceiling. “It gets us nowhere.”

  I wanted to talk. We needed to talk. I put my hand on her cheek, turning her face toward me. “Please, talk to me.”

  “You might not like what you hear.”

  “Try me.”

  She pulled in a long breath, preparing to thrash me with an invisible stick. “I hate the damage you do to me, Adam. It’s a physical injury this time around. Like jetlag but worse. That’s what you left me with.” It didn’t seem like a good time to remind her that she was the one who left me. “There’s only so many times I can endure it before I drop dead.”

  “Charlotte, I won’t let it happen again. That’s all I can promise for now.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t make promises,” she said quietly. “You’re not good at keeping them.”

  The stick had suddenly become a sword. I vowed to do better, but only in my head. Saying it out loud would’ve sounded like another promise begging to be broken.

  December 30

  Charli

  I loved waking up next to Adam. I just hadn’t managed to achieve it since he’d been back in the Cove. We seemed to be running on different clocks. He was on New York time, and I was stuck somewhere over the Indian Ocean. He’d been up for hours before waking me. By the time I showered and dressed, it felt as if half the day was gone.

  I walked into the kitchen and he handed me a mug of warm tea and an even warmer kiss. “Gabi’s on her way over.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. She just called and said she was on her way over.”

  A hint of panic set in. It was probably an impromptu rent inspection. My eyes darted around the room, trying to judge whether it was tidy enough.

  Too bad if it wasn’t. She appeared at the door only a minute later. Adam let her in, greeting her with the Décarie double-kiss routine.

  “Is Charli here?” she asked. I was standing in plain view. Maybe she’d missed me while scanning for dust.

  “I’m here,” I called from the kitchen.

  “Hi,” she said quietly. “I have a favour to ask.”

  “I’ll leave you two to it,” said Adam, making a quick exit.

  Gabrielle sat at the table.

  “Do you know Edna Wilson?” she asked, completely out of left field.

  “Crazy Edna?” Everyone knew her. Children in town grew up fearing Crazy Edna – me included. When I was nine, Mitchell told me that she used to capture little girls and cut off their hair. I’d been terrified of her ever since.

  “She’s supposedly psychic,” said Gabrielle, nodding.

  I walked over and joined her at the table. “Gabi, she eats small children and boils their bones.”

  She half smiled. “You know this to be true?”

  “Of course.” I nodded. “Everybody knows it’s true.”

  “Well, Floss told me she was very gifted. I thought I might pay her a visit. I was hoping you’d come with me.”

  I widened my eyes, shocked. “You want to get your fortune read?”

  She cringed a little. Even she realised how absurd it was. “Yes.”

  “Gabrielle, you’re a Décarie,” I reminded. “As far as fortunes go, you’re good.”

  She looked embarrassed now. “I’m getting desperate, Charli. What if Edna can give me some insight into my family situation? It might give me some hope if I know there’s something good on the way for us.”

  “Look,” I said gently, “I’m all for fae and fate but I’m not sure how I feel about psychics, least of all one who eats children.”

  “Will you come or not?”

  “What did Alex say when you told him?”

  She looked away. “I didn’t tell him.”

  I wouldn’t have told him either. He would’ve flipped his lid. When I’d asked him if the hair-cutting rumour was true, his answer hadn’t exactly put my nine-year-old mind at ease: “Probably,” he’d replied. “You should wear your hair up to be safe.”

  I sighed heavily, gearing up to do something foolish. “I’ll come with you. But if you tell anyone we were at Crazy Edna’s, I’ll deny it.”

  She looked relieved. “Thank you, Charli. “

  I slipped away to the bedroom. When Adam came in, I laid out Gabrielle’s plan in a muted whisper.

  As expected, he found it ridiculous. “You’re not seriously going?”

  “I can’t let her go alone,” I replied, crouching to tie my shoes. “I couldn’t live with myself if she ended up having her bones boiled.”

  He stared at me, puzzled. I didn’t have time to elaborate. I straightened up and kissed him chastely. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

  I felt sad that Gabrielle’s quest to have a baby had pushed her to such extremes. I also felt strangely protective of her, which is the only explanation I had for the nonsense I was about to partake in.

  We stepped onto the porch of Edna’s rundown cottage, dodging the holes where planks of decking were missing. I left it to Gabrielle to knock on the door.

  Crazy Edna kept us waiting a ridiculously long time. When she finally answered, I realised it had probably taken her the full five minutes to get there.

  “Welcome,” she greeted us theatrically.

  I’d never been that close to Edna before. She was tiny, made even shorter by her hunched posture. She had wild grey hair that was pinned back from her face with a plastic red rose hairclip. I had no idea how old she was. She had supposedly been a hundred and fifty when I was a kid. Her small hands shook, which probably explained why her red lipstick was smudged. She didn’t look like someone who ate small children. I actually felt a bit disappointed.

  She showed us through to a small room at the front of the house and then disappeared. It gave us time to check out the room. It wasn’t witchy and dark like I expected it to be; it was decked out in a tacky nautical theme. I could overlook the ceramic dolphins and big seashells that took pride of place on the mantelpiece. Even the dried starfish nailed to the walls didn’t bother me. What was a little freaky was the fact that she had most of my Pipers Cove postcards displayed on a pinup board.

  “Look,” I whispered, pointing. “How weird is that?”

  “They’re all over town, Charli,” Gabrielle reasoned. “It’s not that odd.”

  Edna shuffled into the room, killing the conversation.

  “Sit down, girls,” she instructed in a voice as shaky as her hands.

  I glanced across at Gabrielle as we sat down at the small table in the centre of the room. She didn’t look anywhere near as freaked out as she should’ve. If anything, she looked excited to be there.

  Edna sat opposite us and things began to take a turn for the weird. She reached for a jar of s
and from the shelf behind her and poured it onto the table.

  “Sand is from the earth,” she explained. “I use it to talk to the earth.”

  The sceptic in me wanted to grab a dustpan and sweep it up. The bohemian fairy in my head talked me out of it.

  We sat silently as the old woman spread sand across the table with both hands.

  “Touch the sand,” invited Edna. “Make a slow circular motion and think of a question in your heart.”

  Gabrielle nudged me with her shoulder.

  “No chance,” I muttered, nudging her back. “You do it.”

  Gabrielle’s hand was shaking as much as Edna’s as she ploughed through the pile on the table.

  “I want to know if I’m going to have a baby.” Her voice was tiny.

  “Nice one, Gabs,” I chided. “You just gave her everything she needs.”

  “The sand gives me what I need,” corrected Edna, frowning at me. “All the answers are in the sand.”

  I stared at the old woman, eventually deciding that she probably wasn’t a con artist, just delusional. Alex would describe her as being a few feathers short of a whole duck. “So what’s the answer?” I asked.

  The old woman turned her attention to the sand, drawing a strange set of symbols in it with her crooked old-lady fingers.

  “There is already a child here,” she replied.

  “No.” Gabrielle shook her head. “I have no children.”

  “There is already a child here,” repeated Edna, more forcefully this time.

  I leaned across to whisper to Gabrielle. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”

  She glanced across at me. “Maybe. How exciting!”

  “Procella child,” warbled Edna.

  “What does that mean?”

  Edna didn’t answer.

  “Okay, Gabrielle,” I whispered from the corner of my mouth. “She’s speaking in tongues. Can we leave now?”

  The Parisienne stood up. Edna raised her voice, ordering her to sit back down. Perhaps too scared to defy her, Gabrielle did as she was told.

  Both of us sat silently as she began raking through the sand again.

  “This child brings a break – a disconnection.” Things were getting creepy now. “Much unease and big changes,” she added.

  It wasn’t sounding like the perfect family setting was on its way. In fact, it was nothing more than a forecast of doom and gloom.

  “Okay, we’re done. Let’s go.” I stood up and tried pulling Gabrielle to her feet. She stayed put, giving me no choice but to sit back down. Edna continued sifting through the sand as if my attempt to make a break for it hadn’t happened.

  “You.” She pointed her shaky hand at me. “You should know something.”

  “What?” I asked, truly terrified.

  “You’re going to run out of time,” she announced.

  How the heck did this become about me? I didn’t invite the old woman to read my sand. I hadn’t even touched it, for crying out loud. I folded my arms across my chest, shaking my head in protest.

  “Can we get back to the baby now, Edna?” asked Gabrielle. The old woman began stirring the pile again, concentrating hard. “I’m telling you, Procella child is already here.”

  Gabrielle straightened up in her seat, looking too damned excited by Edna’s ramblings. I had to get her out of there.

  “Let’s go, Gabrielle.”

  The second she stood up I began steering her toward the door.

  “The earth talks,” called Edna. “You should listen.”

  I quickened my pace, roughly pushing Gabrielle to the door.

  I don’t think I took another breath until we were out of the house. Clearly I was the only one showing signs of trauma. The Parisienne hooked her arm through mine as we walked to the car like we were taking a leisurely stroll.

  “Do you think she might be right?” she asked. “I’ll be able to find out in a few days. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I am pregnant?”

  I didn’t want to be the one to burst her bubble, but I didn’t want her hinging her entire happiness on the ramblings of a crazy lady either.

  “What about her prediction of a disconnection?” I asked. “That wasn’t exactly heart-warming.”

  “I wasn’t listening to that part,” she replied.

  “You shouldn’t have been listening to any of it. She was talking rubbish, Gabi. We don’t know anything more than we did an hour ago. She’s off her rocker.”

  “I hope not,” replied Gabrielle. “I want that procella baby.”

  “What the heck is a prosciutto baby anyway?” I asked.

  Gabrielle laughed. “Nothing to do with deli meat, I hope.”

  * * *

  I called Adam on the way home, mainly to reassure him that our bones hadn’t been boiled. To my surprise he was hanging out with Alex, helping him stack the last of the chopped wood.

  There had been a big shift in the relationship between Boy Wonder and my father since their morning in the surf. Alex was impressed that Adam had given it a crack, and Adam was impressed that my father hadn’t killed him.

  All the wood was neatly stacked by the garage when we got there. Gabrielle made a beeline for the house. I went to the shed, following the sound of the blaring stereo. I hung back in the doorway and spied for a moment. Alex was holding two planks in place while Adam hammered nails into it.

  “What are you building?” I yelled over the music.

  Both of them grinned like a couple of naughty schoolboys.

  The explanation came from Alex. He’d run out of wood to smash so they’d come up with the bright idea of smashing golf balls instead. “We’re building a platform so we’ve got a flat surface to launch from.”

  “We’re going to stand at the top of the hill and whack them into the field,” added Adam, moving to turn down the music.

  “Can’t you just go to a golf course like normal people?”

  Alex grinned at me. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Alex’s history of smashing inanimate objects was long. Adam had a history of playing in sheds and working with wood. Both of them liked loud music.

  It was a match made in heaven.

  * * *

  Gabrielle and I sat on the veranda, watching as the golf game got under way. It was hardly a professional setup. Alex only had one golf club – and I doubt he’d ever used it to play golf.

  They took turns whacking balls into the paddock. Within minutes, they were all out.

  “They obviously didn’t think that one through,” murmured Gabrielle.

  Their chances of finding the balls in the long grass were slim to none. Undeterred, Alex picked up a gumnut off the ground and lined it up. The hard seedpod made such a crack as he hit it that Gabrielle flinched, nearly spilling her mug of tea. The nut didn’t go nearly as far as the balls but it amused them enough to want to do it again. Gathering fallen gumnuts and belting them into a paddock with a golf club was about as far removed from his New York life as Adam could get. I wished I could keep him there forever.

  Gabrielle finally put a stop to the game when they ran out of nuts and began discussing climbing the eucalyptus tree to get more. “Enough, Alex,” she scolded. “Please come inside now. You can help me make lunch.”

  You can take the Parisienne out of school but you can’t take the schoolteacher out of the Parisienne.

  Alex dutifully followed her into the house. Adam stepped onto the veranda, handing me a gumnut.

  “Thank you,” I crooned, taking it from him.

  He held the golf club out. “I saved the last shot for you.”

  I followed him down to the wooden platform. Adam stood behind me, positioning my arms as I held the club. When he took a step back, I took my hardest swing – and managed to knock it just a few metres from where we stood.

  “Okay,” he said laughing, “so you’re not a golfer.”

  “No,” I agreed, turning to face him. “Bogan golf has never rated highly on my list of skills to master.”

/>   He frowned a little. “What’s a bogan?”

  “A redneck,” I replied. “Face it, Adam. You’re a bogan. You’ll be wearing plaid shirts next.”

  His arm swooped around my middle and I dropped the club on the ground.

  “At least I managed to hit the ball,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the side of my neck.

  December 31

  Adam

  We didn’t exactly have good memories of our last New Year’s Eve together so I was hoping to make this one a little more memorable. New Year’s Eve in New York is a big deal. New Year’s Eve in Pipers Cove is not.

  It had been a quiet day so far. We’d been laid out on a blanket in the yard since mid-morning. Charli was enjoying the sun and I was enjoying her.

  “How are we going to ring in the New Year, Charlotte?” I asked.

  She turned onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. “Well, we were invited to Jasmine’s beach party. That might be fun.”

  I put my hand to her forehead. “You’ve had too much sun,” I teased. “Get in the house.”

  “It’s fancy dress.” She flashed a cheeky grin. “Ten bucks says Jasmine and Wade go as Barbie and Ken.”

  “I don’t plan on being there to find out. I was hoping we could find something more interesting to do.”

  “What do you suggest?” She wiggled her eyebrows, looking more crooked than sultry.

  “We’re in La La Land, Charli. Can’t you conjure up a little magic?” I trailed my fingertips down the length of her arm.

  “Like what?”

  “How about a fairy soiree?” I teased. “There’s been a lot of fairy talk over the past few days. I’ve still never seen one, and to be honest, there’s a chance I’m becoming a non-believer.”

  She pouted a little, looking so lovely that I wanted to lurch forward and kiss her. “Say it isn’t so,” she drawled.

  I draped my arm across her back. “I’m afraid so, Coccinelle.”

  “Well, that just won’t do. You’ll get your wish, Boy Wonder. We’ll party into the New Year with the fairies.”

  “You’re all talk.”

  “I’m not. You want fairies, you’ll get fairies,” she said.