The Secret Ingredient of Wishes (15 page)

“Oh, you did. Believe me,” Everley said.

“And you're not gonna share?”

“And risk it not happening? Not on your life.” She winked at Rachel.

Rachel's eyes flicked to Ashe's lips quirked up in amusement. “No,” Rachel managed, shaking her head. “Just no.”

“Suit yourself.” Everley curled her fingers around Ashe's forearm and pulled him a step closer. “Our girl Rachel here wants to go sample Old Eddie's barbecue,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Ashe groaned and hung his head. “Of course she does,” he said.

“Didn't you tell her no one eats that?” Jamie asked.

“She won't listen. Mind taking her over there? I've got a reputation to uphold.”

“I can take myself,” Rachel protested.

“Uh-uh,” Ashe said, “you're not going anywhere in that dress alone. Half the male population's already talking about asking you to marry them. You're safer with me.”

She scanned the crowd and found more than a few men smiling at her. Ashe's dad inclined his head in her direction and lifted a plastic cup in greeting. She gave him a hesitant smile in return, then turned back to Ashe. “Am I?” she asked.

Ashe raised his hands in the air, palms facing her. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

Rachel heard Everley mumble something that sounded a lot like
please don't
.

She wrenched her heels from the dirt and motioned toward the food.

The searing sunshine and the oppressive heat from the grills made her feel light-headed. The wooziness intensified until her vision grayed at the edges. “May I?” she asked, pointing at Ashe's cup.

He handed it to her, letting his fingers trail down her wrist when he let go. She shivered.

The sweet tea was cool and had a hint of orange. She sucked on a piece of ice and passed the cup back. “Thanks.”

“Pick your hair up,” he said.

“What?”

“Your hair. Lift it up.”

When she didn't move fast enough, Ashe gathered her hair in one hand and twisted it off her neck. He rolled the side of the cup along the back of her neck, letting the condensation dribble down the plastic to collect in large beads on her skin. He laughed when she sucked in a breath.

Rachel jerked away from the cold and wound up pressed against his chest. The momentary relief the ice provided evaporated as his arm snaked around her waist and kept her from backing up again.

“No need to get all worked up. I'm just trying to keep you from passing out. Now hold still.”

Ashe moved his hand back to her neck but didn't put any more distance between their bodies. Rachel held her breath. It did nothing to calm her racing pulse. She concentrated on the cold seeping into her skin and let her head drop to his chest as the dizziness receded.

“I'm okay,” she said after a minute. Stepping back, she coaxed his hand away from her hair and let it fall back around her shoulders in a wavy cascade.

He tucked a strand behind her ear, trailing his fingers along her jaw. “You look like you'll live. Though if you're still thinking about getting barbecue from Eddie I'm not sure how long that'll last.”

“It's a risk I'm willing to take,” Rachel said.

He kept his hand on her back as they walked toward the last food tent. Smoke saturated the air so every breath tasted like hickory and greasy meat and charred corn husks. He stiffened next to her, his hand slipping from her back. Lola stopped a few feet away, eyes narrowing for a second before she hid the expression behind a wide smile. The cap sleeves of her pale yellow dress fed into a sweetheart neckline that made her look like a 1950s starlet.

“Well, hey, y'all,” Lola said. “Don't you two look cozy. Rachel, I just had the strangest sense of déjà vu. I swear you're the spitting image of this girl I saw years ago, except she had hair so black you'd think the devil himself had painted it.”

Rachel ran a shaky hand through her hair. Strands, slick with sweat, clung to her neck. She'd only had dark hair for a week when she was seventeen before her mom threatened to shave her head if she didn't turn it back. That was a few months before her mom had died. And Rachel's guilt for driving her mother mad with stories of Michael still colored everything she did.

If Lola knew about her hair, then she probably knew about her mom and Michael and what she could do with wishes.

She met Lola's stare, wondering how in the hell Lola knew, and saw recognition flash in her brown eyes. She racked her brain, wondering if she had met Lola somewhere before she came to Nowhere.

“What do you want, Lola?” Ashe asked.

“I'm just trying to be civil. That's what
you
want, right?”

“That's not what you're doing and you know it.” He turned to Rachel, touching a hand to her shoulder. “You ready to eat?” he asked her.

“Sure,” she said, her heart still racing, though she wasn't sure exactly why.

Ashe guided them around the throngs of hungry people brandishing cobs of corn with a good two inches of stalk still attached that they used as handles, and plates piled high with pulled hunks of meat smothered in runny clear sauce that was nothing like the sauce she was used to.

Rachel tugged at the straps of her dress again, suddenly feeling so out of place.

There was no line at Eddie's booth. He was propped up on an upside-down pickle bucket, legs stretched out in front of him. Eyes closed, he didn't notice them come up. Ashe kicked his foot. Eddie jolted awake, catching himself before he fell off the bucket, and said, “Ready to try the festival's only real barbecue?”

“Looks like you've got a taker,” Ashe said to him when he straightened. “Our girl here isn't a fan of North Carolina style.”

Eddie's smile was quick and crooked. He was missing his left incisor. Clapping his hands together, he said, “Best news I've heard all day. What can I do you for, darlin'?”

“Brisket on a plate. No bun. Lots of sauce. The hotter the better.”

“Girl after my own heart,” he said. He patted a hand on his chest. “And what about you, Ashe? Dare to try the best barbecue this side of the Mississippi?”

“Now that's a bold statement, Eddie. But I'll try it. See what you're always going on about. I want mine in sandwich form, if you don't mind.”

“Coming right up.”

When Ashe turned to look at her, she crossed her arms over her chest. He wasn't leering, but the way his eyes roamed over her bare shoulders and down her legs made her fidgety.

“I don't see it,” he said after a minute.

“What?” she asked.

“The black hair. I mean, the blond fits you. I could maybe even see you as a light brunette, but definitely not that dark.”

Rachel cocked her head and asked, “You don't think so?”

“No.” He took their plates when Eddie was finished loading them down with fixings—beans with hunks of bacon, coleslaw, and a thick slab of grilled toast for Rachel's plate.

She took her plate from Ashe and inhaled. It smelled like home—rich, tangy, and sweet. She would've started eating it as they walked if Ashe hadn't stashed the plasticware and napkins in his pocket. She made her way to a table set up underneath the canopy of branches of an ancient oak tree. The leaves rustled in the breeze, the light soft and green as it filtered through the branches. And cool. For the first time in an hour, her breaths came easily.

She set her plate on the table and sat sideways on the picnic bench. She tugged off her shoes. A blister was bubbling up on the back of her right heel. The red, loose skin stung when she ran her finger over it. She set her shoes on the scarred wood next to her, blocking anyone from sitting next to her.

Ashe followed with two bottles of water he'd picked up somewhere along the way. “That'll teach you to let Ev pick out your shoes. But anytime she wants to put you in a dress like that, you are not allowed to say no.”

Her breath caught in her throat when she looked at him. The sincerity in his eyes made her blush. She hoped the light was dim enough that he wouldn't notice.

He moved her shoes to the ground and sat next to her. He left a few inches, but he was close enough to knock elbows with her when he dislodged something from his pocket. “Wet-Nap?” He ripped open the end and squeezed the edges to give her better access.

“Thanks. I didn't expect to get quite so dirty before eating.” She took the wet towel from the pouch without looking at him. She scrubbed her hands, then fanned them in the air to dry.

“So, let's find out what's so special about this brisket, what do you say?”

“I'd already be done with it if you'd given me a fork.” Rachel laughed when he pulled it from his pocket and tossed it to her.

“No way you're gonna eat all that.”

“Watch me.”

She poked the fork through its plastic bag, freed the napkin, and dug in. The sauce was thick and the heat of it burned her tongue. She couldn't help the satisfied moan that escaped her.

Ashe raised his eyebrows at her. “That good, huh? Should I leave you alone with that brisket?”

“What's gotten into you today?” she asked, laughing. He was happy, just like Catch had wanted. But his good mood, his easy laughter, felt too natural to be because of a wish. Like he'd managed to shake off some of the anger and hurt that had been weighing him down.

“I don't know. I was talking to my brother last night and he said I should lighten up and have some fun. So I'm trying. No brooding, no fighting with Lola. Just hanging out with a pretty girl eating barbecue and enjoying the heat. I figure life can't get much better than that.”

She smiled at him. “I guess we'll see.”

When he smiled back, it sent tingles all the way to her toes. She curled them into the grass, but it didn't stop the sensation. As much as she wanted to get lost in the moment, she couldn't let herself. Lola knew something—maybe everything—about Rachel's past, and she seemed angry enough to do something about it.

 

15

The hotter it got, the tighter Rachel's dress got. The soft fabric clung to her skin, and no matter how many times she pried it away, it slapped back to her as if magnetized. She was still tugging on it when she finally made it through the thick mass of people to Catch's tent.

“I might have to turn this into a kissing booth with the way the men are looking at you,” Catch said. Her explosive laugh carried across the park. Everyone close to the tent turned to stare at them. Catch waved them off with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Blame Everley,” Rachel said.

“You're just cranky 'cause Ashe finally clued in to the fact that you're a girl, and you like it. Which makes me right. Now cut that man some pie while I get these moving.” Catch unloaded more boxes of pies on the folding table. She turned to the people still in line and hollered, “We're closed until after the contest. Come back then.”

Rachel jabbed the knife into the gooey flesh of the triple berry pie and passed it to the man at the front of the line. “That's not the part I mind,” she said to Catch when the crowd dispersed. “It's the fact that I don't know why he likes me. Which I was prepared to ignore for the day and just be happy for a change, but then you had to go and remind me that it matters.”

“Why do you have to make it so complicated?”

“Because it is.”

Catch rolled her eyes as she whipped the tinfoil off another pie. “How so?”

“He's still married, for one,” Rachel said, spouting out the easiest excuse. She jumped into the assembly line and kept her eyes on the pies to keep Catch from seeing all of the things she'd left unsaid.

“Not for much longer. What else you got?”

I made your wish for him to be happy come true and he's probably only interested in me because of it. Just like the other wishes that didn't go right.
“I don't know how long I'm staying.”

“You and I both know you're not going anywhere anytime soon,” Catch said.

Just because she didn't want to leave didn't mean she wouldn't. If Lola told everyone what she knew, and the town believed her, Rachel might not have a choice.

Catch passed the tray loaded with pies off to one of the contest runners. Rachel moved to her side and pulled foil covers off pie after pie as Catch lined them up. The air holes in the top of the crusts revealed peach, cherry, plum, pear, strawberry rhubarb, and apple insides. Others—lemon, coconut crème, key lime, and chocolate crème—were topless and needed to be squirted with whipped cream before they could be sent off to the contest stage.

“What if something happens and I can't stay?” Rachel asked after a minute.

“Then we'll deal with it. But don't let some stupid
what if
get in the way of enjoying a little slice of happiness. Lord knows it's hard enough finding it in the first place.”

They emptied the last box and followed the runner to the main stage. They'd missed the first four heats while getting the pies ready, but Catch had timed it so they'd be there to see Ashe compete. He was already seated behind the folding table onstage. He was in the middle, with two guys on either side, and Jamie on the far end. They seemed to be throwing friendly taunts back and forth, but Rachel was too far away to hear exactly what they said.

The runner doled out pies as the emcee announced the flavors each contestant would be attempting to eat faster than the others. A digital timer above the contestants was set to two minutes. If anyone could eat the whole pie in that short amount of time, Rachel was sure it would be Ashe. He ate more pie than anyone she knew.

With hundreds of bodies packed in front of the stage, there was little room for a breeze. What air did make it through carried a charred meat smell that made it hard to breathe. The announcer's voice crackled through the crowd as he warned the contestants to get ready. They straightened their backs in unison. A bullhorn cut through the hum of chatter. All five contestants plunged into the pies face-first as if they'd all fallen asleep at the same time.