The Secret Ingredient of Wishes (6 page)

Things must be pretty strained with his dad.
“Yeah, of course. And I won't even tell Catch you left me to fend for myself…” Her voice trailed off as a young man walked out of a building a few blocks up. He reminded her so much of Michael—the same heart-shaped face, same mop of shaggy brown hair falling over his eyes, same crooked smile. But a grown-up version.

She blinked and he was gone.

In his place were shoppers fanning themselves with to-go menus and tourist brochures, cars idling as pedestrians claimed right-of-way, and a murder of crows dotting the town square, waiting for someone to drop a bite of bagel.

She took a few tentative steps toward where the young man had been, a strangled sound coming out of her throat before she could stop it.

“Rachel?” Ashe said. When she didn't respond, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

She blinked at the sidewalk as if that would make him reappear. “Yeah. Sorry. I thought I saw—” she said. Her heart rammed against her ribs, threatening to crack those closest to it. After a few seconds, she turned back to Ashe. “Never mind. Must be the heat.”

He frowned, his hair falling across his eyes as he leaned closer to her. “Maybe you should come inside after all. Sit down for a minute?”

Cold air rushed out when he opened the door. With his hand still on her shoulder, her skin erupted in goose bumps.

Rachel glanced up the street again. “I'm fine. Really. You go on in and do what you need to do.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah. I'll be okay in a minute.”

Ashe still looked unconvinced. “If you pass out on me, Catch will have my hide.”

She pulled her hair up and gathered it into a ponytail, the breeze caressing the back of her neck. She took in a deep breath. “I won't.”

Ashe hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. She stared back and smiled until he seemed satisfied she was okay and went inside.

Breathe,
Rachel told herself.

Her lungs burned from holding her breath. Exhaling, she looked to see that Ashe wasn't still watching her. Then she took off down the sidewalk. Her heart thundered in her ears. Sweat and goose bumps battled on her skin. She wiped her palms on her thighs and forced air into her lungs. In and out. In and out.

It wasn't Michael.

Even as she thought it, she looked left and right, trying to find the young man again. No one looked familiar. She passed building after building, storefronts and offices half-concealed by blinds. The windows reflected the morning light so everything inside was hazy, indistinguishable. She strained to find the navy plaid shirt and dark hair she'd seen a few minutes before.

She kept walking. And searching.

The sun blinded her when it shot through a gap between two buildings. She stared at the pitted concrete in front of her until the sun spots dispersed. Light-headed, Rachel caught a flash of blue disappearing around the corner a few blocks up. Her shoes slapped the sidewalk and she hurried to close the distance. She passed street signs without reading them.

By the time she reached the next street, it was empty. Here, at least, the buildings blocked the sun. She searched shops as she passed, seeing flashes of clothing—bright colors like cherry and lemon, avocado and melon. But no young guy wearing blue.

But she had seen him. Hadn't she?

“Damn it, Rachel,” she whispered. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing a mother pushing a double stroller to swerve around her. “Pull it together. There's no one here. He is not coming back.”

Though it had gotten easier to say over the years, something ballooned in her chest, making her choke on the words. As if just by saying them she was wishing him away again.

On the day he disappeared, she hadn't seen her brother in hours. Not since he'd bulldozed her Lego castle with a swift kick, scattering the pink and purple and white pieces she'd spent days snapping into place, and she'd shouted that she wished he'd get lost so he'd stop ruining all her stuff. She'd read the wish she found buried in the rubble of her castle but figured Michael's version of “lost” would be sulking in one of his hiding spots she had yet to discover. He was six years younger than her, and at age four, he was still small enough to fit in under-the-sink cabinets and way in the backs of closets where no one could see him.

He wasn't in his room when she went to apologize, so she set a plate of thumbprint cookies on the floor in front of his door where he couldn't miss them when he came out of hiding. She'd only given him the blue, green, and yellow ones—the pink ones he always said were only for girls. Snagging a yellow one off the stack, she popped it in her mouth, the sprinkles baked into the edges crunching with the first few chews.

She had tucked the wish safely in her pocket, where her mom wouldn't be able to find it and yell at her for being mean to her brother.

She tried to concentrate on rebuilding the front wall of the castle, but every creak and thump in the house had her jumping up from the floor and rushing to the door to tell Michael she wasn't mad at him anymore. But it was never him.

After an hour, the ground floor, including the throne room, the ballroom, and the kitchen, were back in place in the castle. Her fingers ached from pressing the plastic pieces onto one another. When her mom knocked on her door, she shook her hands back and forth, half-waving and half-trying to get the blood flowing again.

“Why are there cookies in the hallway?” her mom asked.

“They're an apology. I think I hurt Michael's feelings,” Rachel said.

“What?”

Rachel knew her mom would be mad about how she'd treated her brother, so she focused her eyes on the Lego princess as she placed her next to the prince so they could dance. “He ruined my castle,” she said, pouting. “I can't help it if Michael's a baby about getting in trouble.”

Her mom's eyebrows drew together so they looked like one furry caterpillar on her forehead. “Who is Michael and why would he ruin your castle?” Her mom gripped the door handle and eyed her carefully.

Rachel's hand hit the newly rebuilt chandelier, knocking it from the castle's ballroom ceiling when she jerked around to roll her eyes at her mom. “My little brother Michael. I left the cookies in front of his room so he'd see them and know I was sorry for yelling at him, even if he did knock down my castle.”

“Rachel, I don't think imaginary brothers need real cookies. Think you can go put them back in the kitchen before they get stepped on?”

“Michael isn't imaginary.” Rachel gaped at her mom, the chandelier gripped tightly in her hand. She felt funny, like she did when she had a high fever or went to bed too late.

“Oh, right. Of course he isn't,” her mom said in that overly sweet voice she used when she and Rachel were playing pretend. “I'm serious about putting the cookies away, though. If they're still there the next time I come upstairs, I'll throw them out. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Rachel said, confused but happy that at least her mom didn't seem mad.

She waited until she heard her mom talking to her dad downstairs before moving the cookies. The plate was where she'd left it, but instead of her brother's bedroom door, a painting of a Snow White–type cottage set in a thicket of woods hung on an otherwise blank wall.
Where's Michael's room?
She ground her knuckles into her eyes and counted to five before looking at the wall again. Moving closer, she stepped on the plate. It broke into three large, jagged pieces. A few of the cookies crumbled under her bare foot, and she jumped to the side so she didn't get cut by the sharp edges of the plate. The wall was solid when she ran both hands along its smooth surface.

The door was gone. Like it had never been there at all.

*   *   *

Standing on the unfamiliar street in Nowhere, Rachel could still see the blankness of that wall, still feel the numbness that filled her with dread at what her parents would do when they realized she'd made Michael disappear with her stupid wish.

Back when she thought they might actually believe her.

She reached a shaky hand to a parking meter to steady herself. Closing her eyes, she counted to five like she had back then, inhaling on the odd numbers and telling herself everything would be okay on the evens. But now she knew no amount of wishing could bring back someone who no longer existed. Just as she knew the person she'd been following through the streets was most definitely not Michael but just a familiar-looking stranger, no matter what her insides were telling her.

Something about the air was suddenly fresh and earthy. It smelled like cucumbers and lilac and almond milk, soothing her like the deep breaths hadn't. And the breeze blew a few degrees cooler, as if this stretch of street was encased in a bubble of calm. Eyes now open, Rachel looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the change in atmosphere, or if that was all in her head too.

The park across the street was full of oblivious people. Children screeched and shrieked as they chased each other around the fountain. Arcs of water shot up from the ground at varying intervals to catch them off guard, and they screamed again. A chocolate lab lapped at one of the streams of water. It continued licking the air after the water disappeared and then turned in a circle trying to find where it had gone.

She scanned the way she'd come but didn't recognize the street or the buildings. Was it one block or two to get back to the one she'd followed when she left Ashe?
Shit
.

Rachel looked up to find someone watching her from inside one of the shops. Lettering on the window identified the shop as LUX, an organic skin-care boutique. She could just make out the staring woman's short, curly brown hair and milky skin behind the shop window's pale pink letters.

The woman popped her head out of the doorway. “Are you okay, hon?”

Straightening, Rachel tried to return the smile. “I think so. Just a little dizzy. And lost,” she admitted.

“Well, where are you trying to go?”

“I'm not sure. We stopped at an office so Ashe could drop something off, but—”

“Ashe Riley?” the woman asked.

She tried to remember when he'd introduced himself the day before and came up blank. “Um, maybe. Does he build houses?”

“Designs them. And does contractor work when forced. I'm Everley Hayes, by the way. Come on in outta the heat.” She pushed the door wide. Her capri yoga pants and tank top hugged her toned body.

A gush of cool air caressed Rachel's skin. “I'm Rachel.”

“Can I get you something to drink? I've got coconut water or sparkling water with orange slices in it,” Everley said.

“Regular water is fine, thanks, if you have it.”

“Good call. Plain's probably the way to go if you're not feeling too hot.” Everley walked to a glass-front cooler and pulled a bottle out. The plastic was thin and crackled when she handed it to Rachel.

Rachel wanted to rub it on her neck, but she settled for uncapping it and taking a long swig. Her head unfogged enough to chase some of the dizziness away, though her hands continued to shake. She took another sip. “Thanks.”

“So, what did Ashe say to tick you off?”

“Sorry?” Rachel asked.

“I figure he must've done or said something to make you walk off and get yourself lost.”

“I was just—”
Following a ghost,
she finished silently. “I thought I saw someone I recognized. But it wasn't him.”

It would never be him.

“Then if you're not mad at Ashe, want me to give him a call and tell him where you are?”

Her pulse had slowed to an almost normal pace and she let out a steadying breath. “If you don't mind. I don't want him to have to tell Catch I got lost on his watch.”

“You definitely don't want to piss off Miss Sisson. Gimme just a minute,” Everley said.

As Everley pulled out her cell phone, Rachel turned to check out the store. White built-ins lined the blush-colored walls. Milk bottles and mason jars and round metal tins with screw-on lids glinted in the sun. Their milky contents were offset with labels and tags with the shop's logo printed in charcoal and pink. Baskets on a table in the front window overflowed with slabs of soap that were swirled and lined with a fusion of sultry colors. Rachel touched one. One side was rough with crushed almond shells and bit at her fingers through the plastic.

A slip of paper was tucked into the weave of one of the baskets. Before realizing what it was, she smoothed it out with a finger and read it.
I wish I could tell her no.

With a sharp breath, she let the wish curl back on itself. But it was too late. She'd granted the wish without meaning to. And whoever had made the wish in the first place would have to live with the consequences. All because Rachel had hoped the wishes wouldn't follow her here and she had let her guard down.

Everley's husky laugh pulled her attention back. She hung up and said, “Good thing I called. He was fixing to deploy a search party for you.”

“Oh, God.” Heat rushed to Rachel's cheeks, and she turned to look for him out the window.

“I'm kidding. He just noticed you were gone. He'll be here in a few minutes.”

Rachel glanced down at the curled paper in the basket and then quickly turned back to Everley. “Thanks.”

“So, how do you know Ashe?” Everley's eyebrow cocked in interest.

“‘Know' is a strong word. We just met yesterday when I ran out of gas and Catch let me crash at her house. He's showing me around as a favor to her.”

“Ah, that explains it. I thought I was going to have to give him hell for seeing someone and not telling me.”

“So the two of you are friends?” Rachel asked. She bumped the water bottle against her thigh and drops of cool condensation dribbled down the skin below her shorts.