Secret North: Book 4 of The Wishes Series (40 page)

“Pardon?”

“Bridget isn’t yours.”

I almost smiled. “Well that’s good to know. You had me questioning the laws of nature for a second.”

“I feel the need to remind you of that,” she said seriously. “Maybe it will stop you trying to parent her.”

Maintaining eye contact with her suddenly became impossible. I dropped my head and allowed her to continue verbally thrashing me. It was the least I could do.

“You stole something from me,” she accused. “And for the life of me, I don’t know how to get it back.”

The only thing worse than dealing with Charli while she was angry was dealing with her when she was crazy. “Help me out, Charli,” I said. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She pulled in a long breath, steadying herself before she explained. “Adam connected with Bridget straight away. As soon as she was born, he just knew what he was doing.” She clicked her fingers. “It was as if he’d been waiting for her all along. It took me a lot longer to find my feet.”

I couldn’t link what she was telling me to the conversation at hand, but played along anyway. “You’re a good mom, Charli.”

“Some days I am,” she retorted. “And some days I have no clue what I’m doing. You want to know why I think that is?”

I looked at her, which was all the encouragement she needed to continue.

“I had no mother, Ryan. How am I supposed to know what the hell I’m doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“My connection to Bridget isn’t going to the park or speaking French or reading books,” she added. “It’s the stories that my dad gave me. That’s how I connect with her, and that’s how he connected with me.”

I struggled to come up with a defence that wasn’t going to get me killed. For some reason I still felt the need to get my point across. “She knocked herself out trying to fly, Charli,” I reminded her. “You can’t possibly think that’s okay.”

She put both hands flat on the counter, probably to stop herself lurching forward and ripping my throat out. “Perhaps if you hadn’t stolen her wings she might’ve done it.”

“Wings?” I asked incredulously. “You think I stole her wings?”

She could not possibly be serious. Now that she was spouting foolishness, I could feel my contrition slipping.

“We all lose them eventually, Ryan,” she said quietly. “The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.”

I was in no position to be getting angry with her, but it was impossible not to. “Don’t preach fairy nonsense to me,” I demanded.

“It’s from
Peter Pan
, idiot.”

“That doesn’t make it any more credible.”

She shook her head and groaned. “You just don’t get it. I’m not crazy. I know the difference between a fairy-tale and real life, but what if there’s the tiniest ring of truth to it?”

I put serious thought into her question. I owed her that much. “Impossible,” I finally concluded.

“Deny it all you want to, Ryan, but one day something extraordinary is going to happen and you’re not going to be able to explain it away,” she told me. “You won’t think it’s impossible then. You’re going to think it’s magic. I just hope I’m around to see it.”

“If you’re not, I’ll be sure to call you.”

In a move that looked like defeat, her posture crumpled. “Whatever, Ryan.”

“Look, I’m sorry for what I told Bridget,” I said sincerely. “I overstepped the mark and I shouldn’t have. If you want me to talk to her about it, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want me to to make things right.”

Charli sadly shook her head. “Short of giving her her wings back, I don’t know how you can.”

“I’m not going to encourage the kid to fly,” I shot back. “She’s going to really hurt herself.”

“Wings aren’t literal, Ryan!” she shouted. “Of course she can’t fly, but it hurts me to think she knows it so soon.”

The position I’d put myself in was a bleak one. There was no way I could make it up to Bridget, or to Charli for that matter. “Is she mad at me?”

“No,” she replied calmly.

“So why hasn’t she been hanging out with me lately?”

“It’s not personal,” she muttered. “Adam’s been home. Daddies trump uncles.”

It was a perfectly sound reason and I accepted it immediately – but still felt a hole in my heart. “I’ll make it up to her, Charli,” I pledged. “I don’t know how but I will.”

She stared straight at me. “I believe you.”

68. LOIS

Bente

Tiger Malone ran hot and cold, and when he was running cold, he was freezing. Some days he didn’t cope well with the intrusion of workmen tearing up his beloved club. It made him petulant and grouchy.

“The damn noise is irritating,” he complained, meeting me at the base of the stairs.

I waved my notebook at him. “Do you feel up to talking today, Mr Malone?”

“Upstairs,” he said gruffly. “It’s quiet up there.”

It took forever to follow him up the stairs. If I’d given him a ten minute head start I still could’ve beaten him. I’d never been to the top floor before, and I knew Ryan and Adam hadn’t either. It was a privilege to be invited.

I was expecting it to be as dusty and unkempt as the rest of the building and I wasn’t far wrong. The cluttered apartment was more like a cheap bedsit. The room was dark, with maroon walls and sheets of newspaper over the windows. The newspaper drapes were dated March 1991. Clearly he hadn’t decorated in a while.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to a small wooden chair in the corner.

I did as I was told and Tiger took up position in a huge recliner. I usually started by asking him about a particular decade in the club’s history. After a slow start, something would jog his memory and then there would be no shutting him up. Today was a little different. Tiger had a few questions for me.

“When are you getting married?”

“Saturday,” I replied, smiling.

“Do you love the kid?”

I lowered my notebook. “With all my heart, Mr Malone.”

He pointed a shaky finger at me. “Watch him,” he warned. “Ryan’s a lady’s man, you know.” He spoke as if he was letting me in on a big secret.

“He used to be,” I corrected.

Tiger pulled the lever on the side of his chair making the recliner tip backward. “I nearly got married once,” he revealed.

My pen started twitching. “Will you tell me about her?”

“Her name was Lois.” He smiled fondly. “She was a nice broad. Good legs.”

He might have been talking about a piece of furniture, but I let him go on. The description of Lois didn’t get any more flattering, but I could tell that at one time she’d meant the world to him.

“I waited a long time to find the right woman,” he told me. “I tried a lot out.” He winked and took a break to light up a cigar. “I met her at Solito café.” He blew out a quick puff of smoke. “Down on 48th. Do you know it?”

I shook my head.

“She thought I was a fool at first, but I talked her round,” he continued. “The minute I saw her I knew she was the one I’d been waiting for.”

“How did you know?”

“Because she had fire in her eyes. I like that,” he replied. “And good shoes. You can tell a lot about a woman by her shoes.”

I looked down, paying more attention to my black heels than I ever had. “What do my shoes say about me?”

He grinned and I warned him to keep it clean. “You’re a tall girl who’s not afraid to add more height. Confidence is an attractive quality.”

“Thanks, I think.” I tapped my pen on my notebook. “Let’s get back to Lois.”

“What do you want to know?”

I wanted to know what had gone wrong. I guessed that the lovely Lois had probably put up with all manner of grief from Tiger. He was brusque and reckless with people’s feelings. He’d also admitted to being a huge womaniser back in the day. She’d probably taken as much as she could stand and then called it off.

“I saw her every single day for two years.” He announced it proudly, as if he should’ve been rewarded for such dedication. “We talked and we danced – she could really dance, Ginger. Just like you.”

“Where did you dance?”

“Here, of course.”

Of course.

“I made her a promise that I’d dance with her every day, and for two years, I did.” A look of misery overtook him then and I knew the tale was on the downward slide. “We talked and talked, and you know something, Ginger? I listened. She was the first woman that I actually listened to.”

“There were a lot before her?” There had probably been just as many after her too. I doubt a broken engagement would’ve slowed him down for long.

Tiger gave a rumbly laugh. “Too many, some might say. I’ve never liked whiny women,” he explained. “Sure, they usually look good but there’s no substance. I waited until I found the whole package.”

“And Lois was it?”

“Yes she was,” he said with reverence. “She could dance, she could cook and she looked good. She sounds perfect, right?”

I couldn’t help laughing as I agreed. He’d just described Ryan to a T. “Definitely a keeper, Tiger.”

“That’s what I figured, so I asked her to marry me.” He stubbed his cigar out in a filthy ashtray. “Lois was prepared to take the chance. She thought I was dashing and looked like Montgomery Clift. I liked that she was a betting woman – and that her eyesight was poor.”

I shifted on the tiny chair. It was as hard as a rock and my butt was going to sleep. “But you didn’t make it to the altar?”

Tiger’s eyes glazed. It took me a few seconds to realise that he was tearing up. I prayed he wasn’t about to cry. I had no idea how I’d handle him if he did. “I lost her.” Even his whisper sounded gravelly. “She passed away.”

My heart hit the floor at the news. I’d imagined Lois jilting him at the altar in favour of the best man, or running off to Vegas to be a showgirl. Those scenarios were perfectly fitting for the feisty young woman I imagined in my head.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Malone.”

“I waited a long time for her, Ginger.” He cleared his throat. “She was the one I’d been looking for. Life has a way of kicking you in the guts.”

It was absolutely none of my business, but I wanted to know more. Tiger never held back when seeking information, so I decided to try the same approach, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. “What happened?”

Tiger leaned back, tilting his recliner even further. He smiled, but it was awkward. “She was eighty-one,” he replied. “I lost her last February.”

I stared at him. I hadn’t been doing my job properly that day. I’d assumed too much, conjuring a tale in my head to fit the party-hard, womanising old man I’d come to know. And I’d got it completely wrong – so wrong that I almost apologised. “You did wait a long time for her,” I mumbled.

“Sixty years,” he agreed. “After sixty long years of whiny broads, I finally found the one I wanted to dance with every day.”

I didn’t know I’d begun to cry until a tear hit the notebook. I swiped my eyes with the back of my hand. The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of him. Tiger was having a hard enough time holding himself together.

“I’m sure you’ll remember her forever,” I said quietly.

“Of course I will.” His gruff reply implied that it was a stupid thing to say. Perhaps it was. “I have her heart. I might’ve lost the girl, but I’ll always have her heart. That’s all that matters.”

I was done. The emotional roller coaster I’d been riding for weeks had just taken another huge dip. Between the drama of the wedding, Bridget’s escapades and Tiger’s tragic tale of lost love, I was in danger of having a breakdown. “I think we should call it a day, Mr Malone,” I suggested, packing up. “I’ve plenty to go on with for now.”

I was almost out the door when something caught my eye and stopped me dead in my tracks. Fifty-something years of memories spanned the wall in the form of framed pictures, but only one called to me. I glanced back at Tiger. “Ryan hasn’t been up here, has he?”

“No.”

“Can I bring him back to see this?” I pointed at the picture.

The old man shrugged. “If you think he’d be interested.”

I smiled brightly. “I think he’s going to be very interested, Mr Malone.”

69. CRYSTAL CLEAR

Ryan

Since Bridget had dropped me like a hot potato in favour of her dad, I had no excuse for not spending time at the office. That day was particularly busy, but it didn’t stop Noelle bugging the hell out of me with inane interruptions.

“Nine bottles of Azure Champagne have been ordered in the last three hours,” she said poking her head around the doorway.

“Okay,” I said dully. “Good to know.”

Unhappy with my reaction or lack thereof, Noelle carried on. “They’re two hundred and sixty dollars a pop, Ryan. That’s a super result.”

I stared blankly. What was I supposed to say? “Okay.” It was the best I could come up with.

She smiled, and for the first time ever, I realised she looked remarkably like one of Bridget’s dolls with the big heads and the little bodies.