Saving Wishes
by GJ Walker-Smith
Kindle Edition
© 2013 GJ Walker-Smith
Cover by Scarlett Rugers, http://scarlettrugers.com
Contact the author:
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied or reproduced without the written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places or people, living or dead, is coincidental.
Dedication
To my wonderful husband who has supported and loved me forever. I’d go anywhere with you.
To the three best sons a mother could spend wishes on. I love you very much.
Kisses and gratitude to, Sherry. If not for you, I would’ve painted it yellow years ago. Thank you for encouraging me to continue.
Beaucoup d'amour pour Marie, mon belle amie. The story you told me about meeting your Adam in Bath will stay with me forever. Thank you for inspiring me.
Special love to my Fairy Godsister, Jane. You told me I was an author. You taught me to believe in myself. You also taught me that it ain’t no party without a bus.
Table Of Contents
1. Close Calls
2. The Beautifuls
3. Games
4. Shifting Universes
5. Flee-itis
6. Charm
7. Heavy Head
8. Penguin King
9. Secrets And Lies
10. French Attack
11. Sparkly Things
12. Translation
13. Gift
14. Jailbreak
15. Surprise
16. Confession
17. White Knight
18. The Parisienne
19. Confusion
20. Weekend
21. Memory Lane
22. Conte de Fées
23. Sunday Surfers
24. Romance Languages
25. Compromise
26. La La Land
27. Escape
28. Three Options
29. Magic
1. Close Calls
Alex, my brother, sometimes calls me wicked. Sometimes I am.
I blame it on the fact that I’ve been bored for the majority of the seventeen years of my life. Growing up in a small town does that to you.
Pipers Cove sits at the base of sweeping cliffs that take a vicious bite into the southwestern coastline of Tasmania. Next stop south, Antarctica. To an eccentric artist, antique dealer or hermit it would seem like heaven on earth, but I am none of those things, nor have I ever aspired to be. I am the girl who has always been desperate to get the hell out of there.
Spending another Saturday morning hanging out with my best friend while she worked her shift at my brother’s café was shaping up to be just as boring as it had been the week before. I could feel the wickedness kicking in.
“We could take the money from the register and make a run for it,” I suggested, pacing the café. “We could be in Melbourne by morning.” I was met with a disapproving glare. I wondered for a moment if she thought I was serious. Perhaps I was.
Nicole Lawson, my best friend since kindergarten, was my true partner in crime – even if she did draw the line at being my accomplice in a robbery. We were unlikely friends. Straight down the line, back and white with zero tolerance for any shades of grey summed her up perfectly. I felt scattered and indecisive by comparison. My grandiose ideas were fleeting, mainly because of her uncanny knack of talking sense into me. Nicole was the responsible one. She’d held her part-time job in Alex’s café since we were fourteen. It wasn’t always a boring gig, especially in the summer months when the tourist season kicked in.
Our sleepy little coffee shop was located at the edge of town, opposite a car park with killer views across the Cove. Tourists seeking a great photo opportunity and quality coffee make it a popular place, if only for a few months each year. Alex was very savvy, catering to their every need. Besides decent coffee, he also stocked newspapers, magazines, stationery and other bits and pieces that negated the need for them to shop anywhere else. Retirees in their campervans made up the majority of the visitors, but occasionally we met young, broke backpackers who were living the life I yearned for. Hearing stories of their travels was like a window to the outside world.
Winter was much slower. Cold June days were downright oppressive.
I stared across the road through the salt-hazed windows. The car park was practically deserted, and would remain that way for months.
“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” I asked, sighing heavily.
“Escaping will have to wait,” replied Nicole, checking her reflection in the back of a spoon and fluffing up her platinum blonde hair. “We have a wedding to go to today, remember?”
How could I forget? It had been the main topic of conversation around town for weeks. Attending her sister’s wedding was a torturous prospect. Technically I’d be gate crashing. I hadn’t been invited. My role was purely as moral support for my best friend, the chief bridesmaid.
Nicole’s sister, Joanna, was a poster child for small town folk. Standard procedure for a small town girl is leaving high school and getting a mundane job while waiting for Prince Charming to arrive and sweep her off her feet. Joanna’s prince was a fisherman called Max. Joanna was barely twenty-one. I needed to believe there was more to life than that.
“All the more reason to make a run for it,” I muttered.
“Where are you running to this time, Charli?” Alex asked, barging through the back door with an armload of newspapers.
“Melbourne. The last flight out is at ten.” My brother didn’t look anywhere near as horrified as he should have. “I was going to steal the money from the till to fund it.”
“Nice plan.”
“She’s not going to bail today,” Nicole reassured him. “She’s coming to the wedding reception with me.”
I groaned. “You should be the one going, Alex. You were actually invited.”
“Can’t. I’m allergic to weddings.”
Nicole giggled as if he’d told the world’s funniest joke. Her shameless crush on my brother had been obvious for years. The only person who seemed oblivious was Alex, and for that I was grateful. He would never have coped. Nicole’s crush was wrong on a million levels – the first being the fact that my brother was thirty-four.
The rain belted down solidly for the next half hour. I took my familiar stance near the front window, waiting for a break so I could head home.
“Just make a run for it,” advised Nicole.
“With or without the money?” Tired of waiting, I grabbed my raincoat from under the counter and draped it over my head. “I’ll see you later.”
Leaving her there hardly seemed fair. Alex had given her the day off but she’d turned up anyway, promising her mother she’d be home in plenty of time to get ready for the ceremony at three. I wasn’t sure if it was a ploy to steal a few more pointless hours with Alex or if she was just escaping the mayhem of her house. Her place always seemed to be bursting at the seams with people, and the noise her little brothers made without even trying was deafening. Today would be worse.
Our house was always quiet.
I stood at the edge of the road waiting to cross. The rain stabbed at me, forcing me to pull my coat so far forward I could barely see. After a quick glance left and right, I clumsily ran across, making it just before a black car peeled into the car park. It missed me by inches. What I didn’t escape was a deluge of water as it ploughed through the puddle in front of me.
Shocked, drenched and seething, I watched as the driver practically le
apt out of the car and ran towards me.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there. Are you hurt?” he yelled, compensating for the noise of the rain and the distance between us.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I fumed. “How could you drive that fast in this weather? Of all the stupid things to do!”
By the time I finished my rant he was in front of me. ”You’re absolutely right,” he agreed. “I have no excuse.”
His shoulders were hunched forward, in an attempt to keep the rain from his face. The stance wasn’t very successful. His blue shirt was saturated and sticking to his skin. His beautiful black Audi was obviously toasty and warm – he wore no coat. His eyes, expectant and full of concern, nearly pinned me to the ground.
“You need to learn to slow down,” I added.
“You’re absolutely right.”
Agreeing with me made arguing somewhat difficult. So did the smile across his face as he did it.
“I’m not hurt,” I conceded.
Water streamed down his dark hair. “I’m glad.”
He spoke with a strong American accent. I struggled to remember the last American I’d met, but was fairly sure they wouldn’t have been driving anything as sleek as the lethal Audi.
There wasn’t a reason to keep him standing in the rain. “I have to go.”
“Here, let me help you to your car.”
“I think I can find it,” I replied. The only two cars there were his and mine, and there was no chance of confusing the two. My old Toyota hatchback had dents and scratches all over the once white paintwork, but I loved it anyway. It provided a little step towards the freedom I so desperately craved.
“Okay, then.” He made no effort to race back to the comfort of his car.
I walked slowly. It was impossible to get any wetter. Perhaps he thought the same, which is why he stood there until I reached my car.
“My name is Adam,” he called, as I jammed the key into the lock of my car door.
“Fine.”
“I am sorry.”
He was persistent. I tried to think of something smart or witty to say and failed miserably.
“It’s fine.”
The car door squeaked as I wrenched it open.
“You never told me your name.”
“You never asked me,” I replied, thrilled that my sense of wit was improving.
2. The Beautifuls
Our gravel driveway turned into a treacherous maze of potholes every time it rained. Thankfully, the house was in better shape than the driveway. The small weatherboard cottage stood at the back of the elevated five-acre property, offering glimpses of the Cove from the front rooms. Truthfully, I liked the view more than the cottage.
Touching only one of the three steps on my way up to the veranda, I headed to my room.
It was the smallest of the three bedrooms, and that explained the constant clutter. I never spent much time in there, probably because I’d never needed to. Alex and I lived alone, which meant I pretty much had peace and privacy no matter what room I was in.
Prepping for a wedding that I had no interest in attending wasn’t thrilling, and the outfit I’d chosen reflected my lack of enthusiasm. I stared into the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. The long black skirt and white blouse were reminiscent of something a waitress at a cheap restaurant would wear. I considered changing, and was still raking through the tragic selection in my wardrobe when I heard Nicole’s car.
I met her at the door.
“I have so much to tell you!” She battled to contain herself as she bolted up the front steps, making no concession for the long length of the pretty bridesmaid’s dress she was wearing. Nicole got excited over anything she considered newsworthy. It was one of the things I liked most about her. I was wickedly hoping to hear that the wedding had been called off. Drama like that didn’t come around often.
I ushered her inside and followed her down the hallway to my room.
“Well? Tell me,” I demanded, closing the bedroom door like we needed the privacy.
Nicole sat on the edge of my bed, sighing like she needed more time to piece it all together.
“Just after you left the shop, a guy came in. He had the cutest accent, American I think. He was gorgeous, not like anyone around here… unless you count Al–”
My hands flew over my ears. “Don’t say Alex.”
“Alex is hot. Ask anyone.”
“Get back to your mystery man,” I ordered, trying to scrub her last comment from my memory.
Nicole wagged her finger at me. “Don’t play innocent. I know you saw him.”
“I ran into him in the car park,” I admitted, impressed by my private joke.
“He came in wanting directions.” She grinned smugly. “I was only too happy to help.”
“I’ll bet you were,” I replied dryly.
“He asked about you, too.”
My smirk died immediately. I sat on the bed, inexplicably winding a lock of hair around my fingers. “What did he ask?” Even to my own ears I sounded desperate for information.
“He said he’d just met a girl in the car park and wondered if I knew her. I asked him what she looked like.” Nicole spoke slowly, drawing out the tale. My glare prompted her along. “He said she was pretty, blonde and about so high,” she said, indicating my height with her hand. According to her re-enactment, I was three feet tall.
“What did you tell him?”
“I asked him if she was mouthy, unpredictable and wearing a blue raincoat.”
I folded my arms across my chest. Except for the height estimation, her description of me was pretty fair.
“So where did he want directions to?”
“Spinnaker Road.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess he’s visiting someone in town.”
“Well, I’m sure he was grateful.”
Giving him directions was a service to the community. If Adam had been left to find it himself, every pedestrian in town would’ve been in mortal danger.
“I didn’t give him directions to Spinnaker Road. There are eleven streets in this town, for crying out loud. He would’ve found it eventually. I gave him directions to my house.”
“Slick, Nicole.”
“I thought so. I told him if he wanted to see you again, you’d be at the reception this afternoon.”
I took a moment to process this. Maybe he thought he’d hurt me. I could think of no other reason why he’d ask about me. I could think of even fewer reasons why a stranger would show up at a wedding reception.
“He won’t show,” I declared.
“We’ll see.” Smoothing down the front of her dress with both hands, she began studying her reflection in the mirror. Her grape coloured satin dress gathered under her bust, and a long skirt skimmed her body. Nicole’s hair colour changed from one day to the next and I wasn’t sure that I liked the current platinum blonde look, but it looked pretty coiffed in an elegant bun. I suddenly felt bad for not putting more effort into my outfit.
“I should change,” I muttered.
She abandoned the mirror and, enthusiastically threw open the wardrobe, a woman on a mission.
“How about this?”
The sage green dress she was waving at me still had the tags on it. We’d picked it up in Hobart months earlier. The sales assistant claimed it was vintage. The fifty dollar price tag made me doubt her, but I didn’t care. It was a cute summer dress – summer being the operative word. I had no idea how I was supposed to pull it off in the middle of June. It was also cut a little too low for me, which explained why it had a permanent home in the back of my wardrobe.
“It’s a bit revealing, don’t you think?”
“No. It’s impressive.” She carefully slipped it off the hanger and launched it at me, not so carefully. I dragged my shirt over my head, dropped my skirt to the floor and manoeuvred my way into the dress. I tore off the tags and stood in front of the mirror, fussing with the neckline while Nicole fussed with my h
air.
Being the daughter of hairdresser meant she was supposed to possess natural talent when it came to styling hair. She didn’t. Five minutes of pulling and twisting resulted in nothing more cutting edge than the blonde ponytail I’d started with. Reaching for the brush on my dresser, I dragged out the elastic and tried neatening it up.
“Okay. You’re done,” she announced after a few seconds. Patience had never been her strong suit. “You’ve got a party to crash.”
The rain had dulled to a drizzle by the time we arrived at the Lawson’s house. The line of cars stretching down the street convinced me that Nicole wasn’t exaggerating when she’d told me everyone in town (except Alex and his wedding allergies) would be there.
Being such a small town, there were no reception centres or fancy golf clubs to accommodate large parties. Christenings, weddings, wakes and everything in between were held at the host’s house. Joanna Lawson’s wedding reception was supposed to be a quaint garden party in her family’s yard, but the rain had put a dampener on things, so to speak. The lawn was scattered with vacant white plastic tables and chairs, and sodden pink decorations hung limply from the row of lemon trees near the fence. I felt bad for the bride. It looked like a disaster zone.
The house didn’t seem to have fared much better. It was overloaded with guests and there was nothing quaint about it. I could hear the music thumping from the car. Staying put seemed much more favourable than going inside.
Nicole unbuckled her seatbelt. “Are we going to sit here all day?” She angled the rear vision mirror in her direction, checking her reflection while she waited for my reply.
“Could we?”
Nicole threw open the car door and stepped out on to the lawn, surprisingly gracefully considering the ridiculously high heels she was wearing.
“Get out,” she ordered.
My exit wasn’t as polished and I nearly stumbled on the verge. We hadn’t even made it to the front steps before her mother bombarded us.
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