Wishful Thinking (22 page)

Hazel watched as Jaime absentmindedly picked at the thick tufts of grass that were pushing up between the wooden floor. Her eyebrows were angled sharply toward each other, her lips still tight and pursed. She looked years older, like the idea of staying on the island, the idea of settling down before her life had even begun, had somehow aged her overnight.

It was Hazel’s fault. She never should have wished for Reid to come back. He was leaving now, if he hadn’t already gone, because it was what he was always meant to do. It didn’t make him a terrible person—it just made him somebody not ready to be a father.

Just like Jaime wasn’t ready to be a mother. Hazel stared into her friend’s eyes, and suddenly saw Jaime’s future, playing like a fast-motion movie across the features of her face. It was a life full of adventure and travel and following her own path.

No matter what it meant for Hazel, she couldn’t ask Jaime to give up on all that.

“Jaime,” Hazel started. “I came here to apologize, because what I did was wrong.”

Jaime shook her head stubbornly and started to interrupt, but Hazel held out a hand.

“You were the first person who’s ever been a real friend to me, and last night I wasn’t being one to you.” Hazel sighed. “I was thinking about myself. I wasn’t thinking about what’s best for you. And I’m sorry.”

Jaime didn’t move right away, but Hazel could see the relief settling into the curve of her friend’s narrow shoulders. She stopped tugging at the grass, her eyes still and calm as she stared at a faded wooden panel, knotty circles traced like a bull’s-eye on its surface.

“You have to do this,” Hazel said. “You have to take that scholarship. It’s what you’re meant to do.”

Jaime brought her hands back into her lap, her shoulders low and hunched. Hazel thought she saw a quiet quivering of Jaime’s lower lip, and sat down on the porch beside her. “You’re doing the right thing,” Hazel said. “You are.”

“What about the baby?” Jaime whispered to her hands in her lap. “How will it know…?” Jaime’s voice cracked and faded as she shook her head.

“Know what?” Hazel pressed, laying a hand on Jaime’s shoulder.

“How will it ever know how hard this was? What if it just thinks I didn’t care?” Jaime asked, looking up and meeting Hazel’s eyes with her own. One perfect tear was stuck between Jaime’s long, dark lashes, and she blinked it free. “How will this baby have any idea how much I love it already?”

Hazel’s jaw tightened as she tried to fight back tears. She
inched closer to Jaime and pulled her in close. Jaime collapsed into Hazel’s arms, heavy and sobbing, and Hazel rocked her gently back and forth.

“Trust me,” Hazel said, tucking Jaime’s head against her own. “She’ll know.”

P
osey’s third dress was all kinds of wrong.

Hazel stood in front of the unzipped garment bag, biting her lower lip and shaking her head. Somehow, in the past, Posey had managed to be so spot-on with her designs, but this time she’d completely missed the mark.

The dress was beautiful, of course, and Hazel could tell it was going to fit perfectly as soon as she pulled it over her head. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that it was too… much. It was sleek, black, and very sophisticated, with elegant golden flowers embroidered on the bodice and waist. The straps were narrow and rested gently on her shoulders, and the skirt was long and fitted.

She took one look at herself in the mirror and gasped. It definitely wouldn’t have been her first pick for an end-of-summer outdoor affair, but one thing was beyond apparent: She looked gorgeous.

She was still staring, dumbfounded, at her own reflection
when Jaime returned from the shower, her hair wrapped in a towel turban and her one white sundress sticking to her legs.

“Wowza,” Jaime said, her jaw hanging low. “You clean up nice.”

Hazel blushed and turned. “It’s too much, though, isn’t it?” she asked uncertainly. “I mean, for tonight?”

Jaime flipped her head upside down and vigorously rubbed at her wet curls inside the towel. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I say go for it Give Luke something to remember you by.”

Hazel tossed Jaime a look and bit her lip. “I just don’t know if I can pull it off,” she said, tugging at the bottom of the skirt. “It’s so not… me.”

Jaime flung the towel on the floor and squished her wet curls in the palms of her hands. “Whatever it is,” Jaime said, “it works. But, here. I have an idea.”

Jaime pulled out one of her dresser drawers and removed a small, suede pouch, tucked all the way in the back. She loosened the drawstring that cinched the pouch shut and reached her fingers inside.

“This should take you down a notch or two,” Jaime said, pulling out a long silver chain and looping it around Hazel’s neck. At the bottom of the chain was a smooth, purple shell, the shape of a kidney bean, a lopsided half-moon.

Jaime hooked the clasp and stepped back to admire the finished result. “Perfect.”

Hazel touched the shell with her fingers. It was smooth as glass on one side, and rougher and ridged on the other.

“It’s so beautiful,” Hazel whispered, turning the shell over in her hand.

“It was my grandmother’s,” Jaime said, crouching down again to search for shoes on the closet floor. “She wore it on her wedding day. It’s supposed to bring luck in times of change… or something.” Jaime tossed sneakers and boots out of the way, grunting as she dug to the back.

“Jaime, I can’t take this,” Hazel started, but Jaime shooed her away without looking up, finally sitting up and holding a pair of black flip-flops.

“It’s yours,” Jaime said. “Besides, I have a hundred just like it. She was obsessed with collecting things. Guess it runs in the family.”

Hazel smiled, looking back at her reflection. When she looked carefully, she could see that the inside of the shell wasn’t just purple, it was layers and layers of every shade of purple imaginable, gradually fading all the way to soft white.

For a moment, Hazel could have sworn she’d seen the necklace before. But she couldn’t remember where. Maybe on the beach. Or in the seashell gravel outside.

Whatever it was, she felt stronger wearing it. Like Jaime’s quilt, it was a piece of their family, and Hazel knew she would carry it with her forever.

“Hey,” Jaime said suddenly. “What happened to your hair?”

She was staring at Hazel’s reflection in the closet mirror. Hazel smiled and flipped her long, auburn hair dramatically over one shoulder. “It grew out,” Hazel said. “Guess I’m really not Blondie anymore, huh?”

Jaime flashed her a wide, cheesy grin. “Oh, you’ll always be Blondie to me.”

Hazel laughed and looked back at herself in the mirror, the necklace catching in the late afternoon sun. She hadn’t
recognized it at first, but with all of the right ingredients—her hair, her smile, the necklace, even Posey’s dress—falling into place, now there was no question.

At last, she looked like herself.

When Hazel got to the studio, there was already a crowd inside.

She’d left Jaime and the others in the billowing white tent set up on the lawn, and followed the gravel path, lit by a string of white lanterns. She stood outside the studio door, taking deep breaths and readying herself to go in.

It was the first time she’d seen her own photographs anyplace other than taped to a classroom wall. And even though she’d already seen them in the studio, earlier that day, there was something about the room being full of strangers that made the pictures on the wall look different. It was almost as if she could see the pictures for what they actually were. They weren’t just quirky ways she’d found to pass the time. They weren’t crutches, or props to help her see the world.

They were photographs, and they were pretty damn good.

But it wasn’t until she heard it from a total stranger that she actually believed it one hundred percent. She was on her way back out to the lawn, anonymous in the crowd of Rosanna and Billy’s friends, when she heard snippets of a conversation behind her.

“Do you know whose work this is?” one woman asked. Hazel froze, her ears straining to catch the response. It was the first time she was eager to hear that she was being talked about.

“It’s a friend of Rosanna’s, I think,” another woman
answered. “A young girl who’s been living here. They’re lovely, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” the first woman agreed. “Whoever she is, she’s incredibly talented. And I’m surprised to hear that she’s young. There’s a real maturity there, don’t you think?”

Hazel’s cheeks flushed. She pushed quietly back outside and walked over to the tent, an irrepressible smile brightening her face. She had almost reached the long buffet when a familiar voice called out from over her shoulder.

“Look at that dress!”

Before she knew what was happening, Rosanna was beside her and twirling her around.

“You look absolutely stunning,” she said as Billy quickly appeared at her side. Their elbows had been knit all night long, and Hazel had watched them float from one group of guests to another, wearing brave faces as they made plans to come back and visit the island soon.

“Thank you,” Hazel said quietly as Rosanna reached out to touch one of the golden flowers. Hazel was still feeling self-conscious, and felt overdressed among the summery crowd.

“There’s only one problem with it,” Rosanna said, tracing the back of the collar with her finger and tapping Hazel lightly on the shoulder. “It may be gorgeous, but it’s a city dress.”

Rosanna winked at Hazel and nestled back into Billy’s side. Maura and Craig joined them at the buffet, and the conversation shifted to plans for the fall, Maura’s upcoming trip to New Zealand, and Craig’s dream to one day have a farm of his own. But all Hazel could hear were Rosanna’s words replaying in her mind:

A city dress.

Rosanna was right. That was exactly what the dress was. It wasn’t meant for the island, or even for Hazel’s life in San Rafael. Had Posey known what she was doing after all?

Hazel tried to imagine herself in New York City, getting ready to go out to a swanky restaurant, maybe with candles on the tables and heavy menus and interesting art on the walls. Or maybe she’d be on her way to a gallery opening, a show of some new photographer’s latest work. Or maybe, just maybe, it would be her own show, her own photographs hanging on the walls, for all the world to see.…

“What happened to all of the dumplings?”

Hazel turned to see Jaime standing beside her at the buffet. She was surveying the picked-over selection of appetizers, her plate already littered with toothpicks and paper wrappers. The pregnancy cravings had finally kicked in, and the buffet had suddenly become Jaime’s new best friend.

“I know, I know,” Jaime sighed, pulling her loose-fitting dress out farther from the hidden bulge of her belly. “I’m enormous.”

Hazel laughed and shook her head. “You are not,” she insisted. “You look great.”

Jaime crossed her arms over her stomach and sighed. “I’m going to have to tell Rosanna soon,” she whispered. “They’re leaving tomorrow.”

Hazel glanced to where Rosanna and Billy had made their way across the lawn, talking to an interested buyer about one of the bigger portraits.

“It’s not too late to go with them, you know,” Hazel mumbled under her breath. “I’m sure Rosanna would appreciate having you around.”

Hazel watched as Jaime chewed nervously on the inside of her lip. “I don’t know…,” Jaime started. “She’s already got so much to deal with. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Hazel shook her head. “You wouldn’t be a burden,” she said. “You could help each other.”

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she knew they would come true. Jaime would go with Rosanna and live with her in San Francisco until she had the baby. Rosanna would help her arrange for the adoption. And Jaime would see Rosanna through her treatments, helping her recover before setting off on whatever adventures the rest of her life held in store.

It was what was meant to happen, all along.

She turned to Jaime and hugged her hard. She couldn’t wait for Jaime to know all the things she knew, how happy she’d be, how full her life would become. “You could take care of each other,” she added.

“Okay, okay,” Jaime said, peeling Hazel’s arms from around her neck. “I’d say we’ve had enough touchy-feely moments to last us a lifetime.”

Hazel smiled sadly. She hoped that Jaime was wrong. Could they maybe meet again, in her lifetime?

“Anyway, I think there’s somebody else who’d like a word with you,” Jaime said, lifting her chin toward the far corner of the tent. Hazel followed her gaze and found Luke, sitting alone at one of the round, carefully appointed dinner tables. He looked miserable, staring vacantly at a cheerful centerpiece of tall purple dahlias.

“I don’t know what you did to him,” Jaime said, shaking her head slowly. “But I haven’t seen him this choked up since
the summer of the big hurricane, when he couldn’t go sailing for weeks.”

Hazel’s heart dropped and she looked down at her hands. “What are you waiting for?” Jaime said, nudging Hazel with the point of her elbow. “Go fix it.”