The Secret Ingredient of Wishes (4 page)

They took another set of stairs at the end of the hall that led directly into the room above with no visible door. The soft-gray walls made the room seem darker despite the table lamp Ashe had clicked on ahead of them. The muted light made it cozy, like the room existed for reading under the covers on rainy days. Her bag sat on the foot of the bed, which fit into a notch under the window on the far wall and filled the width of the room. The exposed rafters had been stained dark to match the floors. A ceiling fan whirled above, fluttering Rachel's hair.

Suddenly exhausted, Rachel wanted nothing more than to fall onto the fluffy white comforter and thick pillows and sleep for days.

“Obviously bed's there,” Ashe said, pointing to it. He walked around the room as he showed it off. “The window tilts out, you've just gotta slide it up a few inches first. Closet's there behind that door, and you've got a pocket door here to close the room off from downstairs.”

“No lock?” Rachel asked with a half smile.

“Nah, but I put a booby trap on one of the steps, so don't get any funny ideas,” Ashe said, the frown from a few minutes before still firmly in place.

A hint of worry tinged the annoyance in his tone, shedding light on his mood change. He knew nothing about her, and she was staying with someone he cared about. To ease the tension, Rachel said, “So no ransacking the place once Catch falls asleep then? Damn. You're gonna ruin all my fun.”

Ashe's lips twitched, but he didn't let the smile form. “Aren't we a smartass?”

“Bad habit,” Rachel said, determined to if not win him over, at least ease his mind where she was concerned.

“Oh, Ashe, leave the girl alone.” Catch shoved his shoulder to get him moving toward the door. He stopped on the top step and rolled back the door. “Let's both give her some space. She looks dead on her feet. Rachel, got anything else you need right now?”

“A bathroom?”

“One floor down, third door on the right,” Ashe said.

“I'll set out some clean towels. Make yourself at home,” Catch said.

“Thanks.”

She waited until their voices, still bickering, faded down the hall below before pulling the door closed. She leaned back against it and felt the tension leaving her body. Staying in a stranger's attic had never even crossed her mind as a possibility when she'd set out that morning, but she had to admit the room, with its comfy-looking bed and constant scent of baked fruit, was much better than a crummy hotel.

Her legs still ached when she walked to the bed, tiny tendrils of pain shooting up her calves that almost made her knees buckle. A flutter of white outside the window caught her eye. Bracing a hand on the back of the chair near the bed, she forced herself to take a closer look and was relieved to see it was just Ashe and his white T-shirt, not a slip of paper floating by. He paused halfway across the yard, at the edge of a cluster of trees that rustled their leaves in the warm night air. He looked up, caught her staring. The smile from earlier, the charming one that made Rachel's brain turn off, came back to his face. He started walking again, his stride a little more confident, a little more purposeful.

Rachel would've snatched the curtains closed if there had been any. Instead, she eased her tired body onto the bed and curled up on top of the comforter.

*   *   *

She woke disoriented. The clouds had dispersed and the silvery moonlight drifted in the window. She stared across the room as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The velvety armchair solidified first with thick, squishy blobs for throw pillows, followed by the carved wood desk. The built-in bookshelves were cavernous black holes.

A bird sang a mournful melody from one of the dozens of trees creating a miniforest in the backyard. A light cut through the yard, giving vague shapes to the trees. It took a minute to realize it crept up from downstairs. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was not quite 3:00
A.M
. Her stomach protested her lack of dinner in a loud series of gurgles and grumbles.

Without a light in the stairwell, she made her way down slowly, fingers gripping the railing and feet testing each step before putting her full weight on it. She followed the scents of brown sugar and bacon down the second set of stairs, through the foyer and dining room, and into the kitchen. She squinted at the brightness.

“Couldn't sleep?” Catch asked. Her short gray hair stuck up on one side like she hadn't brushed it after getting out of bed.

“Guess not,” Rachel said.

“There're drinks in the fridge.” Catch nudged a bowl of chopped peaches toward Rachel and then went back to whisking a frothy yellow batter.

Rachel slid onto a stool at the island. Elbows propped on the counter, she leaned closer to where Catch worked on the other side. “What kind of pie is that?”

“Breakfast pie. Eggs, bacon, sausage, sweet and hot peppers.” She poured the chunky filling into the pie dish. “Most folks call it a quiche.”

“Do you do this every day?”

“Most days. Depending on the requests.” Catch licked a splash of the egg mixture from her thumb. Her lips curved into a wide smile, showing a silver cap in the back of her mouth. “But since I plan on asking Ashe for another favor, I figured I better pull out all the stops.”

“I think he'd do it without the pie,” Rachel said, popping a slice of peach in her mouth. Even in the little amount of time she'd spent with Ashe, his loyalty to Catch was obvious.

“Oh, I know. But I feel bad using the boy without some sort of payment. He's been awfully good to me through the years. Least I can do is take care of him right back.”

Jealousy stretched its legs in the corner of Rachel's mind. It didn't matter how old she got, she would always miss her parents and the relationships they could have had if she hadn't messed everything up. Seeing how easily other people could have a family, even with people they weren't related to, hurt more than she'd expected. She locked the feeling away with the memories of her mom's death and her dad's departure that she tried to ignore. “It's nice that you have that,” she said.

The oven beeped as Catch keyed in the baking time and punched Start. “So, what's keeping you awake?” she asked.

Rachel let out a long sigh in place of all of the guilt she kept inside. “Everything. What to do next, if where I'm headed is the right place. If I just shouldn't go back home.”

“Who says you have to leave? Nowhere's a great place to get lost for a little while. Maybe being here will do you some good, and I might not mind the company.”

Something in Catch's voice gave weight to the statement. Like she could uncover all of Rachel's secrets in no time at all. Having to explain to Catch she'd been in therapy for most of her teenage years was one thing. But having to admit what she could do with wishes and what she'd done to her brother and, as a result, to her parents would ensure Catch would send her packing. And then where would she go?

“Why do you want me to stay?” Her voice came out harder than she meant, but Catch didn't even look up.

“I have a tendency to take in strays. A lot of people come to me for help, but it's the ones that don't think they need it that I can't resist.”

Rachel ate a few more pieces of the peaches, the juice dribbling down her fingers. Catch handed her a napkin. “What do you do for them, these so-called strays?” Rachel asked.

“I bake them pies,” Catch said, laughing, as though it were the most obvious thing.

A smile threatened the edges of Rachel's lips despite herself. “Do you think you'll make me one?”

“When you're ready. Until then, we'll just get to know each other. How's that sound?”

“I think I can handle that.”

They lapsed into silence as the oven ticked and hummed. Catch scrubbed the dishes she'd used and Rachel settled in beside her to dry them. A frog the size of a peach pit crawled up the window above the sink. The light, the color of distressed jeans, drifted in around it. His raspy song penetrated the silence. Catch rapped on the window to get him to move along.

Heat pulsed from the oven, wafting over the counter in a steady current. Rachel wiped at her sweaty hair that clung to her forehead.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“Shoot,” Catch said.

“What you said about how being lost was a good thing. What did you mean by that?”

“We're all looking for something in life. For some, it's money, others it's family, companionship, acceptance. Sometimes people get so caught up in the looking that they miss out on what's right in front of them.” Catch handed her a plate, suds still clinging to its edges, and Rachel dried it before setting it on top of the others. “And more often than not, that's even better than what they thought they wanted in the first place.”

If the answer to all of her problems was staring her in the face, Rachel still couldn't see it. But, God, did she want to. Maybe she owed it to herself to see if Catch could help. “Is that what you think I'm doing?”

Catch peered into the oven window, squinting through the layer of grease staining the glass a pale brown. When she turned back to Rachel, her eyes were bright. “I don't know you well enough to say that. I just want to make sure you're paying attention, that's all.”

 

5

After finishing up her middle-of-the-night baking session with Catch, Rachel had gone back to bed. Sometime later, and still half-asleep, she swatted the air to stop the buzzing that had invaded her dreams. It did no good.

The light from the window burned an unforgiving orange when she opened her eyes. Her phone hopped along the shelf above the bed as it vibrated again and toppled onto the pillow next to her. She couldn't remember turning the phone to silent as Mary Beth's name flashed on the screen.

Rachel jerked up, her legs tangling in the sheets, which were plastered to her skin with sweat. She'd known it wouldn't take Mary Beth long to realize she was gone, but faced with having to fess up before she even had a plan in place made her mouth go dry, all explanations for not saying goodbye evading her. She answered anyway.

“What's going on?” Mary Beth said in place of a greeting. “I stopped for coffee and Erik said you'd quit. No notice. No nothing.”

“I didn't have two weeks to give him,” Rachel said.

“Why not?”

“Because if I gave myself time to think about it, I might've stayed.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘stayed'? Where are you?”

Kicking off the sheets, Rachel held her breath until the burning in her lungs drowned out the prickling of nerves in her stomach. “I told you I would fix things. I got far enough away that even if Violet wishes for something else, I can't accidentally make it come true.”

“Where are you?” Mary Beth repeated.

“Nowhere, North Carolina.”

“I'm sorry, did you say North Carolina? As in you're no longer even in the state? And you didn't think to tell me you were leaving? Not even a courtesy call?”

“Yes,” Rachel said, her cheeks flaming with guilt.

Mary Beth cut her off before she could say more. “First, I can't believe you up and left town without even telling me. That's seriously shitty, Ray.”

“I know,” Rachel said. “I'm sorry. But I couldn't stay.”

“Uh-huh,” Mary Beth said, ignoring her apology. “And second, you couldn't find someplace better than a Podunk town?”

Rachel laughed despite the annoyance in her best friend's voice. “No. The town's really called Nowhere. But it is aptly named. The gas station closes before dark, for a poker game apparently, hence me still being here.”

“So where did you stay? Please don't tell me your car.”

“Of course I didn't sleep in my car.” Not that she wouldn't have if it had come to that. Beggars couldn't be choosers. “I was going to find a hotel, but then this woman, Catch, took me in for the night.”

“That was nice of her. And also kinda strange.”

Rachel sat up, twisting to see out the window above the bed. “I know. Nowhere really is like one of those small towns you see in sitcoms that you never think actually exist but kind of wish did. I mean, I've only met Catch and her neighbor who brought me gas, but if I had to base the town solely on them, I'd say it's got some definite positives.”

“A gas-gifting neighbor, huh?” Mary Beth's voice softened, and Rachel imagined her raising her eyebrows with a wicked grin on her face. “Is he cute?”

“Even with a whole damn state in between us, you're still trying to set me up? That's dedication, Mae.”

“You're the one who put a whole state between us. Without telling me. So your argument is invalid. And anyway, with everything that's been going on lately, you could use a good distraction. So, is he?”

“Yes,” she admitted, realizing she knew the exact shade of his eyes without even concentrating. Rachel scooted to the window and cracked it. The breeze was gentle and sticky, rustling the leaves of the dozens of trees in the yard, and the air smelled of warm fruit. She rested her forehead against the window and took a deep breath. “But I'm not interested in a fling. Not really my thing.”

“C'mon, Rachel. Even after a year with Jason you wouldn't open up to him about therapy or your mom. The way I see it, you have two options. One, find a guy you can trust to like you for you—difficult past and all. Or two, a no-strings-attached relationship where you get all of the sexy-time perks without any of the emotional pressure.”

Could she trust someone other than Mary Beth enough to confess all of her secrets? Refusing to let the idea take hold, Rachel said, “Falling into bed with some random guy isn't going to fix any of my problems. Right now, I just want a place where I can figure some things out.”

“All right. I'll let it go for now,” Mary Beth said. “As long as you promise to try and let go of all the guilt you've been holding on to as long as I've known you.”