Jaime pushed back on her bed and settled in the nook where the two walls met, crossing her legs and falling back into her pile of pillows.
Hazel spun around again, admiring her dress in the mirror. She couldn’t stop thinking about the wish. When would she make it? What would she say? She only had two wishes left; she couldn’t afford to screw this one up.
Jaime reached over toward the nightstand between the two twin beds. She lifted a plastic-covered book from a lopsided pile and flipped it open in her lap. It was one of the pregnancy manuals Hazel had checked out of the library the day before. Hazel’s heart stuck as she remembered standing in line, wanting to shrink or disappear, and feeling like a total degenerate. The librarian had looked up quickly with a puckered little smile, and Hazel could feel herself being judged.
Poor Jaime, Hazel thought. For Hazel, the judgment had only lasted two minutes. Jaime would get it for another nine months, and possibly a whole lot longer than that.
There had to be a way that Hazel could make things better. There had to be something that would make Jaime happy. Maybe even something that would make her excited about having her baby and staying on the island to raise it herself.
An idea hit Hazel, fast and fully formed, and she glanced quickly through the closet. She pushed aside the garment bag, revealing Jaime’s one sundress and snapping it free of the hanger.
“Come on,” she said suddenly, tossing the white dress over Jaime’s outstretched legs. “We don’t have much time, and you still need to shower.”
“What?” Jaime mumbled, not looking up from her book. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re coming with us. I don’t have time to argue,” Hazel said with such force that she could hardly recognize her own voice. “And you smell like donkey. Go. Shower. Now.”
“Oysters 101,” Luke announced. “Watch and learn.”
Luke, Hazel, and Jaime were stationed at the long buffet on the yacht club porch. The clubhouse, an old, square building that overlooked the Edgartown harbor, was lit up by red, white, and blue blinking lights, and the sprawling balcony was dotted with flags and looped with patriotic bunting.
The crowd was a sea of seersucker suits and frilly party dresses, the women lightly pecking each other on powdered cheeks, the men swirling highballs and patting each other heartily on the back. Inside, the walls were hung with black-and-white photographs, formal shots featuring boats and boaters of generations past. Hazel looked around the balcony and sighed. She couldn’t help but think that Jaime had been right about the snob factor.
But she’d definitely been wrong about the food. The buffet was stocked, and hardly ignored. Guests helped themselves to plate after plate of the beautiful fruit salads, fresh greens, and steaming ears of corn on the cob. And, at the far end, there was a raw bar, an endless display of steamers, oysters, and clams, all shucked and arrayed between lemon wedges and small bowls of dipping sauce.
Luke selected two oysters and passed the smaller one to Hazel.
“Sorry, Jaime,” he said, as she filled her plate with grilled chicken and salad. “No raw shellfish for you.”
Jaime shrugged and poured herself a glass of sparkling apple cider. “Being pregnant is a blast,” she sighed, eyeing their glasses of stolen champagne.
“Okay,” Luke said, dotting their oysters with a squeeze of lemon juice, and a healthy dollop of red cocktail sauce. “Here we go.”
In one quick motion, he tipped back his head, held the shell up to his lips, and sucked back his oyster in one slurpy gulp.
“So simple, so good,” he sighed with a sly smile. “Your turn.”
It was a challenge. Hazel looked carefully at Jaime, who urged her on with a wiggle of her thick, dark eyebrows. Hazel was still stuck on the raw part, not to mention the slippery way the creature was lolling around in its knobby shell. But she knew Jaime and Luke wouldn’t leave her alone until she’d at least tried one.
She closed her eyes and rested the edge of the shell on her lower lip, angling the oyster into her open mouth. It was cool and wet on her tongue, at first giving her a jolt, but as it slid down her throat, it left behind a salty, fresh aftertaste, and she was surprised to find that she almost enjoyed it.
“What do you think?” Jaime asked.
Hazel smiled. “Not bad,” she said with a casual shrug, as if she swallowed living things every day. “It tastes like the ocean.”
“That’s my girl,” Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
Hazel took a small sip of her champagne as they started down the porch steps and onto the club’s private beach. A dance floor had been roped off in the sand, and a four-piece brass band was playing on a makeshift stage by the entrance. Luke waved hello to somebody he knew from work, and Jaime was caught in a laughably awkward conversation with one of the caterers, a stoner guy she knew from school. It was the perfect chance for Hazel to excuse herself.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered to Luke, and made her way back to the clubhouse, as if in search of the bathroom. But at the last minute, she ducked around the porch, making sure she couldn’t be seen from the dance floor.
Hazel leaned against the railing, the crinkling paper streamers sticking to the side of her dress. Her heart skipped. She knew this wish was risky. It could go a million ways. Or maybe it wouldn’t even work at all. But she had to give it a chance. If she did nothing, Jaime was definitely going to go back with Rosanna to San Francisco, where she would have her baby and then give it up.
And Hazel’s life would be exactly the same.
Hazel squeezed her eyes shut. The wind tickled her face; the air smelled like ocean and charcoal smoke from the grill. She gripped the railing and took a deep breath.
“I wish,” she whispered quietly. “I wish my father was here. Right. Now.”
Hazel snapped her eyes open and looked down at the hem of her skirt. All of a sudden, she felt a familiar fluttering and watched as the tiny, golden butterfly flapped its delicate wings, floating away from the dress and into the sky.
The butterfly hung in the air for a moment, as if to orient itself in new and unfamiliar surroundings, before zipping off and flying between two wooden beams on the porch. Hazel hurried down the balcony steps and onto the beach, following the glowing light as it skirted along the water.
She walked slowly between the small groups of partygoers, their pointy high heels sinking them deeper into the thick sand. She followed the butterfly’s path overhead, until it paused at one of the yacht club’s long, wooden piers. On the other end of the dock, Hazel could see the hunched-over shapes of Jaime and Luke, sitting with their feet in the water. Luke had sneaked a bottle of champagne and was holding it on his lap as they looked up at the stars.
The butterfly was leading her back to them.
Hazel’s teeth were clenched so tightly her jaw was starting to ache. She took another step toward the dock but stopped when she felt something—or someone—brush against her arm.
“Excuse me,” a soft voice uttered politely, before continuing past her and heading for the dock. He was a tall young man in a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and he was making his way to the end of the pier.
Hazel looked up and saw that the butterfly had swooped down and was flapping its wings with greater intensity directly over the boy’s head. It traced a quick figure eight in the sky before striking out across the water and disappearing into the last of the orange sunset clouds, hovering at the horizon.
19
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to confiscate that bottle.”
The boy stood at the end of the dock with his arms crossed, speaking in a phony, official-sounding voice. Hazel had followed him quietly, her heart thudding in her ears.
Luke turned first, glancing sheepishly at the stolen champagne on the deck, before a look of surprise scrambled his face.
“Reid?” he stuttered, and Jaime whipped around, leaping up and knocking over the glass of cider by her feet. Her
eyes were glowing as she hurled herself into the boy’s outstretched arms.
“Reid!” she squealed, her tiny arms squeezing around the back of his neck. “What are you doing here?”
Hazel felt warm from head to toe, watching her parents hug. This was her mother. This was her father. They were together. He’d come back.
Jaime unpeeled herself from Reid’s embrace, her face reddening as she remembered they weren’t alone. She glanced over Reid’s shoulders and caught Hazel’s eye. “This is Hazel,” she said, gesturing quickly behind the boy’s back. “She works with us at Rosanna’s.”
The boy turned and reached out a hand. For the first time, Hazel got a good look at him. He was tall and thin, with a long nose and strong jaw. His eyes were light blue and his hair a dark auburn.
In other words, they could have been twins.
“Hi,” Hazel stammered, reaching out her palm and feeling Reid’s fingers wrap around hers. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
Reid smiled. “You, too,” he said. “I’m sure Jaime’s told you all kinds of horrible things about me. It’s why I came back, actually. To defend myself.”
Jaime punched him lightly on the shoulder, as Reid and Luke high-fived over her head. “I thought you were out of here for good,” Luke said.
“I thought so, too.” Reid shrugged, letting a hand slip around Jaime’s waist and pulling her back in to his side. “I made it through the first session, but it got too hard to stay away.”
Jaime rolled her eyes and bumped him playfully with her hip, but her face was glowing. Hazel caught her eye and smiled.
The boys chattered on about their summer plans, their voices blurring as Hazel stared at her father. Reid. She’d never known anybody named Reid before. It sounded important, like the everyday alter ego of a superhero. Her father, the superhero.
She could get used to that.
From the beach, the brassy sounds of the band wafted in their direction. An announcement was being made, and Luke glanced up.
“The fireworks should be starting soon,” he said, reaching for Hazel’s hand. “And I was promised a dance.”
Luke led Hazel off the dock with a knowing wink. Reid yelled something about meeting up with them later, and Hazel turned and watched as he and Jaime got smaller in the distance. They were sitting at the edge of the dock, Jaime with her head on Reid’s shoulder. Even from far away, she already looked like a different person. She looked unmistakably happy.
When they reached the sandy dance floor, Luke spun Hazel out and pulled her back in. Her dress swished around her ankles and she felt the strong warmth of his hands on her back.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” Luke whispered. The band was playing something up-tempo and festive, but they were still slow dancing, and Hazel didn’t care.
“Only like seventeen times in the car,” Hazel laughed. She glanced out again over Luke’s shoulder toward the dock. She wasn’t sure which was more startling. The fact that her parents, her actual parents, were snuggling up together, less than a hundred yards away, or the fact that a boy she liked had said she looked beautiful. Seventeen times.
“I was starting to think Jaime was never going to come out of that funk,” Luke said, following Hazel’s gaze. Reid and Jaime were dancing now, swaying under a sky full of prickly stars. Reid was hunched over, his knees bent and his long arms wrapped around Jaime’s small waist.
“Reid seems nice,” Hazel said. “Have you known him long?”
Luke shrugged and spun her around again. “Not really,” he said. “His parents are members here. I used to think he was just another stuck-up summer kid. But Jaime seems to really like him. And she’s not exactly easy to please.…”
“Yeah,” Hazel laughed. “I’ve noticed.”
Luke laughed and spun Hazel out a few more times, their bodies settling into the comfortable rhythm of moving so close together. She couldn’t believe how easy it was, letting herself relax in his arms.
The song ended and people around them stopped dancing to applaud. A sharp crackling noise popped overhead and Hazel looked up to see an explosion of lights in the sky. The fireworks had begun.
“You guys mind if we watch with you?” Reid appeared behind them, Jaime’s arm tucked into his elbow. “It’s getting dangerous out there.” A trickle of white sparks fell from the sky toward the water.
The four of them found a long bench on the sand and squished side by side. Hazel took a seat between Luke and Jaime.
Bursts of red, white, and blue shocked the sky above them, and Hazel felt Luke squeeze the top of her shoulder. She turned to him and smiled.
“Happy summer, Hazel,” he said, and leaned in to give her a kiss.
Later that night, after the fireworks and champagne toasts, Hazel had her very first sleepover.
It wasn’t the boy kind. And it wasn’t the first time she’d shared a room, of course. There had been plenty of nights with Jaime before that one. Not to mention all of the many roommates she’d had in the group homes, or the various stepcousins she’d been forced upon over the years.
But this was different.
When they got home, Hazel and Jaime hurried to change into their pajamas, no longer taking special care to face the wall or strategically cover themselves as they undressed. They brushed their teeth at the same time, giggling as they took turns spitting into the sink. And then they turned off the lights and jumped into bed.
Hazel watched as Jaime pulled her grandmother’s quilt up under her chin. The room was dark, but just enough moonlight fell through the open window for Hazel to make out the permanent smile on Jaime’s face. She looked like a completely different person, as if her features had been rearranged and softened. Hazel suddenly felt bad for disliking Jaime so much at first, when she’d been going through all kinds of complicated things. Things that Hazel hadn’t had a clue about.
“Tonight really happened,” Jaime said softly now, her eyelids low and heavy. “Didn’t it?”
Hazel smiled in the dark. “I hope so,” she said, rolling onto her side.
“You know what Reid told me?” Jaime asked. Her eyes popped open and she stared up at the ceiling. Every so often, her legs shook beneath the blanket, as if she were too excited to lay still. “After the fireworks, when we were sitting on the beach. He said he thought about me all of the time. He said it was like a piece of him was missing when we weren’t together.”
Jaime’s voice was dry and hushed, like she still couldn’t believe the girl Reid was talking about was her. Hazel knew exactly how she felt.
“I had no idea he even liked me that much,” Jaime said. “I mean, we had fun last summer. And when he visited this spring. But I thought for sure that was it. I thought when he went to Dartmouth in the fall…”
Jaime sat up and faced Hazel, wrapping her bare arms around her knees. “I just never thought things would work out like this,” she mused. “I guess I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
Hazel smiled in the dark. She’d made the perfect wish. Having Reid back was going to change everything, for all of them. Jaime would have her baby on the island and she and Reid would raise it together. Hazel rubbed her feet together, unable to lie still.
“Jaime?” Hazel asked suddenly, perched on one elbow. “Have you thought about when you’re going to tell him? About the baby, I mean?”
Jaime rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling, exhaling a full, heavy sigh. Hazel hoped she hadn’t ruined the moment.
“Not yet,” Jaime said softly. “But I’ll know when the time is right. I just feel like everything’s happening this way for a reason. Like all of my wishes are coming true, or something. I know that sounds crazy.…”
Hazel closed her eyes and rested her head back onto her pillow. “No,” she whispered through a smile, her voice slurred with sleep. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all.”
It was close to three in the morning when the girls finally drifted off, not because they’d run out of thin
gs to say, but because they were too exhausted to go on saying them. Hazel lay awake a few minutes longer, listening to the soft sounds of Jaime’s breathing.
And then Hazel slept like she’d never slept before, like she’d been on a long, rambling journey, and was finally back in her own bed, heavy limbs finding familiar spots on a warm mattress. Home, home at last.
20
“Can you please stop fidgeting?” Hazel asked Luke with a laugh in her voice.
It was Saturday, a few weeks later, and Jaime’s first full day off in almost a month. She’d woken Hazel up early, scrounging around her dresser drawers for a swimsuit, and insisting that it was their one chance for a double date to the beach. Luke and Reid didn’t need much convincing, and after a standoff in the crowded parking lot of the most popular beach in Chilmark, the foursome had set up blankets on a secluded patch of soft white sand.
Reid was already throwing himself against the head-high waves, Jaime had gone for a walk along the red clay cliffs looming large behind them, and Luke was fidgeting on a towel while Hazel attempted to take his picture.
“I’m not fidgeting,” Luke insisted, leaning dramatically back on his elbows and turning his sharp jaw from side to side. “I’m just trying to give you my good angle.”
Hazel rolled her eyes and pulled Luke back up to sitting. “I don’t need your good angle,” she sighed. “I need you to sit still.”
Ever since Rosanna had offered to include some of her “work” in the next big show, Hazel had been trying to decide what kind of photographs to take. Clearly, she couldn’t submit the types of random, cavalier shots she usually ended up with. If she wanted to impress people, and be a real artist the way Rosanna was, she’d have to try a new approach.
Which was when she’d remembered the portraits. The expressive face of the fisherman in the studio, the story in the old woman’s eyes. What better to hang next to Rosanna’s paintings of the important people in her life than photographs of the important people in Hazel’s?
Wishful Thinking Page 11
