Storm Shells

by G. J. Walker-Smith

She released her grip, freeing me to sit beside her. “What have I told you about breaking rules?” she teased.

  I pretended to think.

  “It’s good for the soul, Adam,” she reminded me.

  “I’ll try to remember that,” I told her, twisting to check out my sleeping angel. “Can I pick her up?”

  “She’s your baby. I’m pretty sure you can do whatever you want to – except visit her before one.”

  I laughed, lifting the tiny girl out of the crib. “I can’t wait to get you both out of here.”

  “We’re good to go,” said Charli. “The doctor came in this afternoon and checked her over.”

  “And she’s okay?”

  “Perfect,” she beamed.

  “And you’re okay?”

  “I’m awesome,” she crowed.

  “Yes, you are,” I agreed, laughing.

  At least she recognised it. Being delicate because she was small was just an illusion. Seeing her bring our baby into the world was the biggest show of strength I’d ever seen.

  “I repainted the nursery today,” I told her, looking down at the baby in my arms. “Ryan did a terrible job.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t be happy with it. I did warn him.”

  “Nicole helped me out,” I explained, trying to say her name pleasantly. “You never told me you were friends again.”

  She shrugged. “We are, but it’s not the same. I thought she’d be excited to see the baby but she hasn’t visited.”

  I could tell her feelings were hurt. I decided to come clean before Nicole had a chance to twist the story. “She had plans to come today,” I admitted. “I told her not to.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have a lot of patience for Nicole, Charlotte,” I admitted. “I don’t like her.”

  I was half expecting her to jump to her defence, but she didn’t. “Understandable, I guess.”

  We were quiet for a minute. It took me that long to work up to asking my next question. “You and I are good, right?” I asked vaguely.

  She smiled but it wasn’t right. “We have a lot to talk about, Adam.”

  It was hardly reassuring, but it was all I was going to get from her. I wasn’t going to push the issue. There was no way I could push it without making it sound like a political campaign.

  I waited until I was leaving that night before giving her the first bit of solid proof that I was all-in. I lowered Bridget into the crib and kissed her goodnight.

  “I have something for you,” I said, turning my attention to Charli. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

  She smiled expectantly and did as I asked. I placed the small gift in her hand.

  Charli opened her eyes and examined the glassy pink stone. I prayed she knew what it was, because at that moment I’d forgotten the spiel Floss gave me when I’d picked it out of her display cabinet earlier that day.

  “Pink tourmaline,” she announced. “You’ve been foraging for rocks, Adam?”

  “Yes,” I replied, relieved that she recognised it. “I thought it was about time you made a start on your nest.”

  She let out a quiet laugh. “Do you know anything about pink tourmaline?”

  “Do you?”

  Her look told me that my question was a ridiculous one. “Tourmaline directly touches the heart.” She held it to her chest. “It heals emotional wounds and brings feelings of comfort and safety.”

  “Is it working?” My voice shook more than I was comfortable with.

  “I’m not feeling wounded, Adam.” She moved the rock to her lap. “I’m feeling cautious.”

  “Cautiously optimistic?” I asked, making her smile.

  “Cautiously cautious,” she clarified. “I worry that you’ve made a few hasty decisions lately.”

  I shook my head, feeling mildly hopeless. “I’m not going anywhere, Charli.”

  She grabbed my hand. “Neither are we.”

  July 1

  Charli

  Plenty of things in life are small. Pipers Cove is small. Kittens are small. To me, Bridget was microscopic. That made me incredibly nervous at the prospect of taking her home. Adam, on the other hand, was over the moon.

  “What if I drop her?” I asked.

  “You won’t drop her.”

  “What if she cries?”

  He grinned. “She’s going to cry.”

  “What if I accidentally forget about her and leave her outside?”

  “I’ll bring her back in,” he replied. “No big deal.”

  I kept waiting for someone at the hospital to come to their senses and demand to keep the baby longer. Not even the mean nurse tried stopping us.

  “She should stay a bit longer,” I suggested.

  “How long do you think she should stay, Charlotte?” asked Adam, stuffing the last of our belongings into the overnight bag.

  “She should be good to go in a year or two.”

  “That seems a waste of a good car seat,” he teased, pointing to the baby carrier on the bed.

  “I’m scared, Adam,” I bleakly confessed.

  He abandoned the packing in an instant, pulling me into a gentle hug. “Don’t be. We’re in it together.” He kissed the top of my head. “You, me and Bridget.”

  * * *

  We left the hospital armed with a heap of instructions and a tiny baby. It might have been the first time I realised that the whole Adam-and-Charli dynamic had changed. We were now Adam-Charli-and-Bridget. Extreme selfishness was a trait we’d both been guilty of in the past but something about having a child made me want to be selfless. I wanted to give her everything, and I was a hundred percent focused on doing it.

  Adam kept assuring me he was in same frame of mind. I just wasn’t entirely convinced. I knew he loved her, but he loved me too, and in the past that had never been enough.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, as we drove home under a bright sky.

  “Huh?”

  “You seem miles away.”

  “What are you going to do here, Adam?” I asked. “What are your plans?”

  His answer came easily, which proved he’d at least put some thought into it. “I thought I could find another boat,” he suggested. “Maybe restore it over a couple of months and flip it.”

  “Then what?”

  “Find another boat.”

  “And you’d be happy doing that?”

  He took his eyes off the road again. “I’m already happy, Charli. You have to believe me when I tell you that.”

  “I do believe you,” I replied. “But I want you to know that you can change your mind at any time. I’m not holding you to anything.”

  I saw his expression crumple, but pretended I didn’t. It wasn’t a look meant for me.

  * * *

  I had a knack for leaving things to the last minute. I was caught short by Bridget’s early arrival, but Gabrielle had picked up my slack in spectacular fashion. She’d gone on a shopping spree the day before, equipping the nursery with a hundred things we needed and a hundred things I was pretty sure we didn’t. Surely no one really needed an electric baby wipe warmer.

  “Isn’t this a bit over the top?” I asked, pressing the button to lift the lid.

  Adam lowered Bridget into the crib. “Will a cup fit in there? Maybe we could use it to keep coffee warm.”

  I spun around, admiring the room. “She’s really gone all out, hasn’t she?”

  “I asked her to,” he admitted. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

  It was definitely perfect. The lilac room was filled with top-of-the-line white nursery furniture. Mint green bedding and curtains accented it perfectly. It looked like a scene straight out of one of the baby magazines Gabrielle subscribed to.

  Adam looped his arm around my middle. It wasn’t a comfortable hold. When I wriggled free, he took it personally. “Are you being cautiously cautious with me, Charli?”

  I felt foolish explaining. I’d never been a vain person, but at two days post-baby,
I had the physique of a retired wrestler. I wasn’t feeling huggable. On the plus side, I’d acquired a really great set of boobs.

  Ignoring my pleas to keep a distance, he snaked his arm around me again and hauled me in close. I did my best to ignore the contrast of his hard chest against my overly soft body. Adam didn’t seem fazed. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.”

  “It’s the boobs, isn’t it?” I demanded. “I have boobs now.”

  Grinning errantly, he pulled at my collar and peeked down my shirt. “You do have a spectacular rack,” he agreed.

  * * *

  I was so glad to be home. It felt as if I’d been away for weeks. It also felt as if Adam had never been away at all. While the baby slept, we pottered around the kitchen. I made tea and Adam tried to make coffee.

  “How long has this been here?” he asked, waving a bag of coffee beans at me.

  “Months, probably. You’re the only one who drinks it.”

  He pulled a face and turfed it into the bin. As soon as it hit the trash, I remembered something that could’ve made ditching the coffee very costly. “No! Don’t throw it out.” I grabbed the bag. Beans tumbled everywhere as I upended it on the counter and sifted through it.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Finding these.” I waved my curly fry rings at him. “I hid them in there when they got too tight to wear.”

  “Nice save, Coccinelle. Do they fit now?” He took the rings from me and slipped them on my finger.

  I killed the romantic gesture by flapping my hand around. “Perfect.”

  “Meant to be then, I’d say,” he replied, kissing my ear.

  I inched my head back to get a better look at him. “Kiss me like you mean it, Adam,” I demanded. “I’ve waited a really long time.”

  “Like this?” he asked, pressing his warm lips to my neck.

  “No,” I murmured. “You can do better.”

  His low laugh tickled my skin as he trailed burning kisses across my jaw. When his mouth finally found mine, I was transported to a place I’d missed terribly.

  Adam-and-Charli moments were spectacular but notoriously short-lived. This one was no different, but the reason why was a good one. The tiny cry of our newborn daughter filtered through the baby monitor on the bench.

  July 1

  Adam

  I held off calling my parents until I knew Ryan was home. I expected the conversation was going to be rough and short. I needed him there to fill in the many blanks.

  Bridget was settled and Charli was in the shower. I used the minute to text Ryan.

  - Baby’s here. A little girl.

  His reply was almost instant.

  - Everything OK? She’s early.

  - She’s perfect.

  - Great news. Congrats! Name?

  Charli told me about the lecture he’d given about naming her. A smartass reply was inevitable.

  - Serendipity Flutterlash Décarie.

  I’d barely hit send before my phone beeped.

  - ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FREAKING MIND???

  - Kidding. Bridget.

  - Almost normal. Happy for you. Don’t screw it up.

  I chuckled at his comment and planned my comeback. I could’ve thrown him a snarky comment about the crappy decorating job he’d done on the nursery, but decided to ruin his day in a different way.

  - I’m about to call Mom and Dad. Can you go over there?

  He left me hanging a long time.

  - On my way.

  I breathed a long sigh. Ryan knew exactly the level of drama I was facing but still chose to be there for me, just as he always had.

  I was still staring at my phone when Charli walked in. “What are you doing?”

  “Texting Ryan.” I then confessed to trying to work up the courage to call my parents. Charli looped her arms around me.

  “You should sit down then,” she suggested. “In my experience, tough phone calls are best handled from the kitchen floor.”

  She was speaking from experience. Charlotte had endured the same terror when calling Alex the day we got married. I thought back. We were blissfully happy and I’d spent a lot of time reassuring her that there was nothing to be worried about. It occurred to me that this situation was no different. Everything was perfect for us. We had a brand-new daughter and life couldn’t possibly be any better. For the first time in a long time, I had no worries.

  In a surge of bravery, I tapped my father’s number on the screen and put in on speaker.

  We stared at it while we waited for him to pick up, which seemed to take forever. “Adam.” He punched out my name.

  I hesitated before answering him, and then warned him that he was on speaker in the hope that he’d keep the conversation polite. Jean-Luc reverted to French and raged for a solid minute, chastising me for throwing my life away and predicting that I’d amount to nothing if I continued down the path I was on. “You’ll come to regret it,” he roared.

  I’d spent six months living with extreme regret. I knew exactly how it felt. This wasn’t it. As soon as he paused for breath, I hit him with the news of Bridget.

  “A baby?” he asked, stunned.

  It made no difference what I said after that. He just kept repeating the word ‘baby’ until he raised the attention of my mother.

  I pinpointed the instant she walked into the room. I’d driven my mother to tears a few times recently. It was a sound I’d recognise anywhere. I couldn’t tell if she was as angry or just overcome with emotion. My father’s mood was easy to gauge. He was livid.

  I knew my father had a financial obligation to Bridget. It was up to him to ensure she was provided for, just as we all had been. The ancient pot of endless family money had a new taker. I got the impression I was supposed to be eternally grateful that my daughter would inherit an obscene amount of money when she turned eighteen, purely because she was a Décarie.

  Financial provisions were the only ones he made for her. He told me that he wanted nothing to do with Bridget until I came to my senses and brought my family to New York.

  “Never going to happen, Dad.” I spoke calmly. The last thing I wanted was to give the impression that I was affected by his threats.

  “Then we have nothing more to say.” He hung up.

  I stared at Charli in disbelief. My father had just cut us out of his life.

  Probably as a comforting gesture, she tightened her hold on me. I gently broke away. “I’m going to go outside for a minute. I need some air.”

  July 1

  Charli

  I might not have understood the conversation, but I got the gist of it. I called out as Adam got to the door, “He’ll calm down, Adam. He’s just hurt.”

  I’d unwittingly triggered something huge. Adam went from calm to furious in a nanosecond. He marched back toward me, stopping at the edge of the kitchen bench. “Charli, I don’t give a damn whether he calms down or not. He just cut us out of his life, wiped us off as if we’re nothing because I won’t go home. Who does that?”

  I hadn’t got the gist of the French tirade after all. I’d assumed Jean-Luc was pissed because he hadn’t been told about Bridget.

  I didn’t quite know what to say. While I lived in New York I’d been on good terms with Jean-Luc, but I’d been a good, supportive wife at the time. It would be fair to assume that he wasn’t quite so fond of me since I’d lured Adam away with a secret baby.

  “He’ll calm down.” I could hear how empty my words were.

  Adam started pacing around the small room. “My kid will never, ever have her worth judged by the size of her bank balance. Do you understand me?” I nodded because I thought he needed to see it. “She’s not ever going to feel pressured by us. She’ll go her own way.” He threw out his arms in exasperation. “Whatever she wants to do. She can dig ditches for a living if that’s her bliss. Got it?”

  “Yes, Adam,” I replied. “I’ve got it.” I wasn’t taking his rant personall
y. It wasn’t meant for me. I was hearing all the words his father would’ve copped if he’d had the decency to stay on the line another few minutes.

  Adam’s anger faded the second he realised he was taking it out on the wrong person. He stopped pacing, looking lost and in total need of rescue.

  “He cut us out.” His voice was calm voice but laced with bewilderment. “Who in their right mind would deny a beautiful, perfect child because she doesn’t fit in with their master plan? It’s the most ridiculous...”

  His voice trailed off as he reached a horrible conclusion. “Oh, my God,” he muttered. “I’m just like him. I did the exact same thing.”

  “No, you didn’t. You’re here.”

  Nothing I could say was going to be enough to talk him through the light bulb moment that had just gone off in his head, so I said no more. I watched him walk into the cold night air, hoping that time was all he’d need to get back on track.

  July 1

  Adam

  I drove fifty kilometres in a bid to clear my head, ending up at a gas station in Sorell. I headed inside, purchased a huge amount of the chocolate koalas I knew Charli liked, and drove fifty kilometres back. I walked in the door feeling like a total dick. Charli acted as if I’d never left.

  “Hi,” I said meekly.

  “Hey.”

  I walked over and flopped beside her on the couch. “I’m sorry,” I muttered contritely. “I behaved like a child.”

  Charli twisted and rested her legs across me. “Adam, did you ever get around to reading Peter Pan?”

  “I did,” I admitted. “Twice.” She slapped her hands on her knees and I knew there was a quote coming. “Off we skip like the most heartless things in the world, which is what children are, but so attractive, and we have an entirely selfish time, and then when we have the need of special attention we nobly return for it, confident that we shall be rewarded instead of smacked.”

  She’d recited it in one breath, in a voice like that of a pantomime actress.

  “How the heck do you know that by heart?”

  She laughed, a sweet sound that I hadn’t expected to hear again that night. “It’s Alex’s favourite quote. He used to quote it all the time, especially when I’d been tormenting him. Basically it’s about being a cocky brat.”