Wishful Thinking (17 page)

Hazel gulped and looked down at her bare feet in the grass. She’d been working hard to come up with a few solid shots, but she still didn’t have anything she felt ready to show Rosanna.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I’m just not sure that anything I have is good enough. I mean, if I had my portfolio at
home, the stuff my teacher used to get me into art school…”

“Wait a minute.” Rosanna held up one long finger. “You’re going to art school?”

Hazel shrugged. “I haven’t really decided,” she said. “But I got accepted to a program in New York.”

“You’re going to art school,” Rosanna said again, only this time it wasn’t a question. “And let me tell you one of the first things you’ll learn. You’re always going to be your own toughest critic,” Rosanna said. “Get out of your own way, and you’ll do amazing things. Okay?”

Hazel’s heart swelled. Rosanna wasn’t her mother, but she suddenly realized how deeply she still wanted her approval. The very fact that she was taking the time to offer advice, and taking Hazel seriously, made Hazel feel like she could fly.

Rosanna stretched her neck long from side to side, and closed her eyes. She looked tired. It was hard for Hazel to remember how sick Rosanna was. Partly because she did such a good job of hiding it, and partly because Hazel knew she had many years ahead of her. But there were certain moments when Rosanna let her guard down, and it was all Hazel could do not to reach out and hold her hand, and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

“How’s Jaime doing?” Rosanna asked abruptly, her eyes still closed, the sun seeping into the shallow lines around her temples. “I hardly see her anymore. She’s been spending a lot of time with that yacht club kid again, huh?”

“Reid.” Hazel nodded. “They’re together a lot.”

“What do you think about him?” Rosanna asked. “Honestly. I’ve only met him once, and I haven’t been able to
get her alone in weeks. But she does seem, I don’t know, different lately. Is everything okay?”

Hazel’s heart skipped as she searched for the right words. Jaime still hadn’t told Rosanna about the baby, and even though the last thing Hazel wanted was for Rosanna to take Jaime away with her to California, she couldn’t help but feel like it was about time for Rosanna to know what was going on. Hazel was doing her best to be helpful, reading as many books as she could get her hands on, but she was starting to feel like maybe Jaime needed to hear some advice from somebody older.

And Rosanna wasn’t the only one still left in the dark. Jaime hadn’t told Reid yet, either. Lately, Hazel had been trying to drop subtle hints, hoping to figure out Jaime’s plan. When was she going to do it? And how? She and Reid seemed so perfect together, and Hazel’s heart leaped every time she imagined how different her life would be, if only she had grown up with them as her parents.

But first Reid would have to find out that he
was
a parent.

“Everything’s great,” Hazel finally managed. No matter how badly she wanted to speed the process along, she knew it wasn’t her decision to make. Neither was telling Rosanna. “Reid’s really sweet, and Jaime’s been so much happier since he came back.”

Rosanna smiled, an easy calm settling back into her clear, green eyes. “That’s good,” she said. “I guess that’s all that matters.”

Hazel swallowed hard. She always wondered what it would be like to have to lie to an adult. She used to overhear girls in the bathroom at school, putting on the makeup that
their mothers had forbidden them from wearing, and relaying in hushed tones all of the stories they’d told about why they’d missed their curfews. Hazel used to think it was the one part about having parents that she wasn’t missing out on.

But now, sitting across from Rosanna, she knew the other side of having to lie. It meant that somewhere out there, somebody was asking questions. Somebody cared. And suddenly, Hazel felt jealous of those girls in the bathroom. And angry, too. Angry that they had no idea how lucky they were. Rosanna wasn’t Jaime’s mother, either, but she cared enough to ask. And that was something.

Hazel felt more determined than ever to turn things around. If only she could grow up with a family, if only they could all stay together on the island, if only she could have a mother of her own to worry about her, to ask her questions, to make sure that she was safe, Hazel knew she’d never lie again.

“H
ey, Annie Leibovitz.”

Hazel looked up from where she was crouched in front of the barn. Her camera in one hand, she shielded her eyes with the other. Luke was leaning, shirtless and adorably bed-headed, through his bedroom window at the end of the second floor hall. “Isn’t it a little early for my close-up?”

Hazel grinned, holding a finger to her mouth to shush him. It was very early morning, and she’d been trying to get some shots of the barn in the dusty, predawn light. She didn’t think anyone would be awake, and had thrown a sweatshirt over her pajamas. It was a decision she was starting to regret.

Luke stage-whispered that he’d be right down. Hazel smiled and turned her camera back at the barn. She held the lens to her eye, trying to squeeze as much of the bulky red structure as she could into one shot. She liked the way the chipping red paint contrasted with the pale gray of the sunless sky, but she was having trouble deciding how to frame it.

She took a few quick shots, then turned to face the cliffs, and the ocean below. She turned a slow, half-circle, taking in the panoramic view. It was stunning, but in a way it felt like it was too much. Where would she start? Which patch of sea and sky was hers to freeze in time?

Her finger drew back the button, a few rapid snaps, as she tried to cover as much ground as she possibly could. She remembered what Rosanna had said about staying out of her own way. Maybe by starting with
quantity,
she’d stumble on some
quality
in the process.

“Ready?”

Hazel spun around to find Luke standing at the barn door. He was dressed for work, in a crisp yacht club polo shirt and clean khaki shorts.

“Ready for what?” Hazel asked, collecting her growing pile of photographs and tucking them into the outside pocket of her bag.

“You’ll see,” Luke said, turning on his heels and starting toward Craig’s silver truck. Hazel slowly put away her camera and stretched to her feet. Her knees ached from squatting and she walked stiff-limbed to the truck.

“Hurry up,” he called from the driver’s seat. “Or we’ll miss it.”

Hazel hopped in beside him. “Miss what?” she asked. “Where are we going? And I thought you walked everywhere. Do you even know how to drive?”

“Very funny.” Luke started the truck and backed out of the driveway. “And it’s called a surprise, Hazel,” he said, a glimmer in his big brown eyes. “The idea is you don’t find out until we get there. Can you handle that?”

Hazel rolled her eyes and caught a glimpse of herself in the side-view mirror. Her hair was a mess, and she still had pillow creases on one side of her face.

“I guess I don’t have a choice.” She shrugged at her reflection as they bumped along the winding dirt road, and sat back to enjoy the ride.

The sky was still heavy and gray as they pulled into the yacht club’s employee parking lot.

“Let’s go, let’s go.” Luke hustled Hazel out of the truck and jogged to the end of the dock. He stopped in front of a row of small motorboats. At the Fourth of July party, Luke had explained that these were the boats he used to shuttle people out to the harbor, where they boarded their own, moored sailboats and set off on day trips around the coast.

Luke worked quickly to untie a long rope from a rusty metal cleat. Hazel thought of Rosanna’s painting, the portrait she’d seen of Luke in the studio, and reached into her bag for her camera. Without a word, she knelt beside Luke’s hand and focused his fingers in the frame, the slack of the rope wrapped around his forearm, the shimmering water reflecting cool, gray light in the background.

Luke smiled, shaking his head as he tossed the untied rope into the boat.

“That’s the last one,” Hazel laughed as Luke hopped onto the sleek bow, holding out a hand to help her jump down after him. “I promise.”

Luke flipped a switch and the motor sputtered on. Hazel settled herself into the corner, watching as the glassy water
slipped by the boat’s rounded hull. The sky was slowly lightening to a pale, pale blue, and they floated toward the shock of orange waiting at the horizon.

Luke tucked his knees behind Hazel’s back, steering lazily with one hand. She leaned back against him, the wind picking up pieces of her hair and tossing it around her face.

“This is a good surprise,” she yelled over her shoulder. The engine was loud and the wind carried her voice out over the water.

Luke leaned forward, his hair smelling like a mixture of salt and shampoo as it tickled her cheek. “We’re not there yet,” he said.

Hazel looked out at the harbor. They motored through the scattered rows, the massive, gleaming hulls of sailboats looming large over their shoulders. Finally, when they were out in the open water, Luke shut off the engine and crawled down into the pit with Hazel.

“Here we go,” he said, pointing at the horizon. He had carefully positioned them so that they could watch the sun as it slowly came into view.

Hazel tucked her head into the crook of Luke’s neck. What started as a tentative burst of yellow grew into a confident ball, shocking the sky around it and throwing jewel-like patterns across the water’s surface.

She held her breath. It was so beautiful that it almost hurt.

Luke pulled a strand of her hair back behind one ear. “What do you think?” he asked. “Still a good surprise?” Hazel wanted to say something, but an aching sadness had settled around her heart. It was more than a good surprise. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.
She knew she should be happy, but no matter how wonderful and perfect Luke was, no matter how many sweet and thoughtful things he did, nothing would change the fact that she wasn’t who he thought she was. He had no idea how complicated the situation was, and things were only going to get worse.

“It’s a great surprise.” She forced a sad smile and settled deeper into his side.

Luke squeezed the top of her shoulder. “See that boat?” he asked, pointing back toward the harbor. “The one with the stripe on the hull?”

Hazel squinted to make out the bold white script scrawled over the boat’s navy blue bottom.
“The Isabella?”
she read.

Luke nodded. “That’s her,” he said, almost proudly. “The guy who owns her is a good friend of Aunt Ro’s. He spends the summers here in the harbor, and every fall he leaves to sail around the world. Last year he made it all the way to the South Pacific. I keep bugging him to take me with him, but he’s a real solo artist.”

Hazel watched the boat’s towering mast sway back and forth, the tied sails rustling in the breeze. “He travels alone all that way?” she asked.

“He used to go with his wife,” Luke said, his voice softer, sadder.

“Isabella?” Hazel guessed.

Luke nodded again, his brown eyes still and serious. “She died in a plane crash when I was really young,” he said. “There are pictures of her all over the club. They were the team to beat in the regatta every year. Everybody loved her.”

Hazel felt Luke’s hands gripping tighter around her waist.
“I guess he hasn’t wanted much company since then,” he said sadly.

Hazel leaned her cheek against Luke’s shoulder. “Sometimes people don’t know what they want until they get it,” she said quietly, as if to herself.

Luke smiled, tickling her side. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t give up easy,” he said as she squirmed in his arms. “And besides, I have a plan.”

“Oh yeah?” Hazel smiled. “What’s that?”

“Well,” he said, leaning back to stretch his long arms overhead. “Once I figure out a way to get on that boat, I can start working on getting you on it, too.”

“Getting me on what?” Hazel asked, pulling back to look him squarely in the eyes.

“The Isabella
he said. “You could come with us.”

His voice was light and jokey, but Hazel could tell there was a part of him that was serious. The tightness in her chest was suddenly back, the unbearable clawing at her ribs.

“Why not?” Luke pressed. “Already have big plans for when the summer ends?”

Hazel stared at a murky puddle that had gathered in the corner of the boat.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” she said quietly, when the truth was she hadn’t thought about it at all. She had managed to put a temporary block on thinking about the future. Between dealing with Jaime and the pregnancy, spending time with Luke, and working for Rosanna, it hadn’t been hard to do. There was hardly time to think about next week, let alone the fall. But the future was always there, calling out from the shadows of her mind. She had no idea what she was going
to do next. She had no idea what was even
possible.
If her plan worked, and Jaime and Reid decided to raise their baby together, to raise
her,
here on the island, what would happen to Hazel’s life as she knew it?