Wishes Under a Starlit Sky Page 11

  ‘What’s that?’ I say, as we reach the hot spring chatter is emanating from. I can make out three heads amidst the steam.

  Jake stops and turns to face me while leaning down to take off his shoes. I notice yoga pants lying around. It’s like a teenager’s bedroom with clothes strewn along the snow.

  Jake prods at the middle of my chest. ‘The love you have for yourself.’

  ‘Come and love yourself in here,’ I hear Madi shout out. The steam clears, and I can see all eyes on us. Ariana’s black curls are bouncing atop the water. She’s smiling lazily with her head tilted back against the spring’s edge. Em is absentmindedly playing with Madi’s hair while wiggling her eyebrows at me and Madi is giving me a once-over.

  ‘You’re wearing too many clothes,’ Madi shouts. Jake winks at me in a way that makes me feel part of the group. He strips down to his boxers and jumps into the spring to hoots and hollers from everyone inside. Ariana reaches for him. He towers over her for a moment as she admires his six-pack with her fingertips, then he sits beside her and peppers her face with kisses. From knowing the man for only a little over an hour I’m impressed by his ability to be incredibly manly yet not afraid to engage in talk about love and emotions. I look forward to getting to talk with him more; I like my new friend.

  The way I grew up, I rarely had time to be self-conscious about my body or give thought to it being anything but beautiful, thanks to my mother. I was the baby running around the garden naked, then attending festivals with my mum and dad where not a lot was left to the imagination regarding the outfits of those in attendance. I’ve never cared too much for bras – still don’t – and being naked is never a problem. But with the moon glowing up above, this night feels different. Peeling off my layers feels like so much more. I feel more vulnerable than I have ever felt yet powerful because of it. I feel free from judgement from both my friends and myself and there’s a raw and honest vibe in the air.

  My toes curl when they touch the snow, snapping my whole body into the present. This night has been magical. I don’t want to forget that or the way I felt during the yoga class, or when I looked into the eyes of the moon from my mat. I want to remember the power the stars gave me and the kind words that Jake spoke.

  I stand up straight and pull off my long-sleeved top first. I’m wearing one of my favourite lace bralettes with no padding, the one that always makes me feel sexy and like myself. For a moment I completely forget that anyone is watching and take a second to embrace the freedom and confidence I feel stripping in the great outdoors. That is until Madi yells, ‘Get that sexy body in here.’

  Seeing me strip, she’s gone into full best friend support mode; I love her a little more.

  I release my hair from the half bun on my head and it cascades to my hipbones. Away from the fires I feel the freezing nip of the morning air and make a dash for the hot spring, to the sound of cheers and a wolf whistle – thanks, Madi.

  I’m laughing when my toes touch the burning water, sending a rush of heat to my cheeks. It’s like a fire has been lit inside me. ‘Where’ve you been hiding this one?’ Em says, tapping Madi’s shoulder while looking me up and down.

  ‘I tried to get her to snowboard naked, but she was having none of it.’ Madi shrugs, winking at me before poking Em in the ribs and saying, ‘Oi, she’s mine.’

  I let out another laugh from my core and shake my head in Ariana and Jake’s direction. They’re both laughing too. Seeing them sitting together, Jake’s arm draped around Ariana’s shoulder, I decide they make such a stunning couple. Her petite frame fits snug against his broad chest; they look content.

  ‘You two should be on the cover of romance novels,’ I say, smiling excitedly. The heat of the water soothes my bones and my mind.

  ‘This one’s camera shy,’ Ariana replies, stroking Jake’s jawbone adoringly and giggling up at him.

  ‘Oh please, he just doesn’t want to be outshined by you,’ Em pipes up, flashing a wicked grin at Jake.

  ‘You know me too well,’ Jake responds, matching Em’s grin and splashing water in her direction.

  Their easy banter is endearing and very much like mine and Madi’s. It brings me great comfort and lulls me into a sense of peace. I rest my head against the hot spring, watching my hair as it floats up around me, then I look to the dreamy night sky. The yellow stars are flickering and the moon still watching over us. We’re in the middle of nowhere yet I feel safe. Jake is right: I’m surrounded by love. I have the love of my best friend and my family. I love my job, this place and my new friends. I just need to work on that love for myself.

  Stripping down in the middle of a forest and being happy with what I see is definitely a start, I think.

  Chapter 11

  In contrast to how I felt beneath the relaxing water of the hot springs, my body is now restless. I can’t find a comfy spot in my bed or settle into a position. My mind is ticking over as panic fills the creases in my worried brow. It’s Christmas Eve. Am I out of time? It’s still dark outside, the moon is setting, and the sun hasn’t yet made an appearance, so my room is far from bright, I can’t see my chest, I can only hear its rattle and feel it rise and fall with apprehension.

  I decide sleep will not be on the agenda tonight, or should I say this morning – we got back from yoga at 2.30 a.m. With the peace the yoga had blessed me with I’d have thought I’d have drifted off the second my head touched my pillow, yet I am unusually wide awake at this late/early hour. Knowing the reason why, I quickly rush around to the bench under my window ledge and grab my laptop bag, carefully retracing my steps so I don’t trip and fall, and switch on the lamp by my bed as I climb back under the warmth of my duvet.

  I’ve not been typing for more than ten minutes when my door creaks open. The low light from my bedside lamp highlights Madi walk in rather spritely carrying a tray – the aromatic smell of lemon tea fills the room.

  I see a cafetière, a pot of tea, a plate overflowing with pancakes and syrup, a small bowl containing an apple, banana, grapefruit and perfectly ripe peaches, a bar of dark chocolate and some leftover Christmas cookies. My stomach growls its approval of the delicious spread before turning over with an uncomfortable lurch at the thought of Madi realizing what I am doing. I tilt my laptop nervously to avoid her seeing my manuscript on the screen.

  ‘Mads, it’s three-thirty in the morning, what are you doing?’ I ask softly, grateful for the incredible breakfast spread and provisions but a tad confused at how awake she is at this hour.

  She places the tray next to me on my bed and gives me a coy grin with an eye roll.

  ‘I could feel your agitated aura from down the hall. Now, get it done Harp. I love you.’ She replies, kissing the top of my head before leaving me alone with my tight deadline and all the snacks a writer could ever need.

  I can’t help but chuckle and let out a joyful sigh as I load my fork with pancake. How did Madi know I hadn’t finished my edits and why wasn’t she mad? I love her, I really, truly adore her.

  I take a bite out of the buttery pancakes, loaded with natural syrup, as my eyes adjust to the gleaming white mountains that even in the dark glisten and sparkle under the moon’s glow.

  I stare at my laptop on my bed and my joy is replaced by the nerves that threaten to overwhelm me as I worry I won’t be able to get this script over the finish line. I take a sip of coffee, the taste automatically snapping me into writer mode. No, I am not going to let the nerves win. I hear my mum’s voice in my head: ‘You are the sun, the moon and the stars.’ I feel Madi’s supportive kiss tingle on my forehead. And I remember how I felt during midnight yoga mere hours ago; how my body felt strong with each movement, the wave of power that wove its way through my bloodstream and how in control I felt of my own well-being. Jake had pointed at my chest, like ET, like there was a magical glow in his finger, urging me to pay attention to the love in my heart that I not only had to give for other people, but that I had to give to myself.

  The velvety rich co
ffee slides down my throat, warming up my insides. I squint at my laptop now, giving it the evil eye to show it who’s boss. I’m Harper Hayes; my maiden name rolls off my tongue and a thrill washes over me. Madi had taken to using it but I haven’t used it in years. I’m a writer. I write romance and I’m bloody good at it. I nod defiantly, then quickly take another bite of pancake. I lean down, grab the fork and pop it in my mouth, careful to not drip syrup on the floor or my white dressing gown, then I’m back to my evil glare, I can do this. I have plenty of love in my heart. In fact, I have more love in my heart for my family, my friends, my work, and yes, even myself, now that Scott isn’t hogging the majority of it.

  *

  I’m staring at the screen only two hours later, my fingers hovering over the keys, my tongue savouring the melting chocolate in my mouth. I fancy washing it down with some vanilla tea, so I reach over and pour myself a mug full to the brim. The pot has kept the tea lukewarm and the delicious flavour refreshes my taste buds the minute it passes my lips. Feeling wholly deflated after reading through my script and making notes, I finish the cup of tea, scuttle off the bed and wander into the bathroom to wash my face. I always feel better once I’ve washed. This will ensure my eyes feel more awake and readier to look at the bright lights of my laptop screen again. It will give me the right boost to tackle the more lovey-dovey moments that need tidying up in my screenplay.

  Looking into the mirror while I dab at my face with my towel, I see that my hair looks matted and dull. It’s been tied in braids, up in a bun and stuffed under beanie hats and helmets so much this week and I haven’t cared to maintain it too much recently. I get the scissors from the bathroom cabinet and tie my hair into a long ponytail. I gather the ends and snip an inch off. I’m not about to do something drastic and cut it short – despite Scott’s occasional suggestion that I have it cut and styled, I love my long hair – but a small trim might encourage it to grow a little faster. I then retrieve the conditioner from the shower and pour a healthy amount in my palm and slather it all over my head. I cover my hair and note that I probably should have taken my robe off. There is now conditioner all over it with short strands of freshly cut hair sticking to it.

  I wash my hands free of conditioner, peel my robe off and pull my pyjama top over my head. I get stuck at the top and end up with a mouth full of soap as my hair flips over into my face as I try and make the head gap wide enough to not scrape all the conditioner off as it goes past.

  I’m standing naked in front of the mirror looking like a troll with my hair spiked up on my head. My eyes start scanning over my body, over the stretch marks on my hips, the freckles on my left collar bone, the tattoo of a tiny arrow on my inner right bicep that Madi and I both got when we were twenty; then my eyes catch the small heart tattoo on my wrist, the one I got for Scott. I’m frozen for a moment, my eyes threatening to glaze over until …

  ‘Harp, what are you doing?’ Madi’s voice snaps me right out of my trance. I hear her clattering about with the teapot before she appears at the bathroom door.

  ‘Hey.’ I smile, feeling vulnerable and bare yet completely safe and myself. I don’t need to cover up for Madi or hide any part of me.

  ‘Hey,’ Madi replies, smiling back. She leans against the doorframe. Her blonde shoulder-length blunt cut is shining and glossy, with a pink headscarf keeping it out of her face. Her blush is a baby pink complementing her nude lips and she’s tied a pink sash around her basic white long-sleeved skater dress today. She looks beautiful. I have a feeling I can attribute part of Madi’s glow this morning to Em, as well as the fact that she is up and perky at this hour on barely any sleep.

  ‘I might be procrastinating,’ I say with a laugh looking from Madi and back at myself in the mirror.

  ‘You think?’ Madi retorts, with a raise of her eyebrows, as she glances from me back over to my bed where my laptop is paused on a Zachary Levi video and not my current jumble of a manuscript. She sighs softly and walks over to me. Her hands move to my shoulders as she stands behind me. She’s looking at me now through the mirror. She sees all I see, and she has stood by my side for the past twenty-seven years.

  ‘I’m not digging this script, Mads, it’s just not flowing,’ I say into the mirror.

  ‘So, what are you going to do about it?’ There’s a slight flicker of a smirk at the corner of Madi’s primrose pink lips that is cheeky and challenging. She drops a kiss onto my shoulder as I pout in thought.

  ‘Come on,’ she encourages when I don’t respond, grabbing my nightie and helping me to pull it over my head; avoiding my Poppy-the-troll-style, full-of-conditioner hair.

  I’m lost in thought, as Madi guides me to my bed. I’m trying to come up with my next move. The script isn’t what I want it to be. And the fault does not entirely lie in the fact that my heart has turned to coal and that I hate the mushy stuff (hate is such a strong word). I really don’t, not deep down, it’s that it’s missing feeling.

  We get to the bed and I’m yet to speak. I mull over in my brain what I need to do. I know Madi won’t let me off easy. She already forgave me so quickly and kindly over lying to her about my script being complete, so I must think of something clever that won’t let her or myself down.

  ‘I can’t fault your taste,’ Madi says, Zachary Levi getting her approval as she climbs on to my bed and clicks the play button on my laptop, pinching a piece of apple from the fruit salad that lies on the tray with the fresh tea she has just brought me, as she does so. ‘We can watch one more Zachary Levi video and then it’s back to work, babe. OK?’ she adds, giving me a determined smile as she brushes my conditioner-covered hair out of my eyes.

  I stare at the scene before me – Madi snuggled up next to me, food lovingly prepared for me – and I take in us both giggling at bloopers from Season One of Chuck, and think of all we have done here in Colorado, and a lightning bolt of love surges through me. I kiss Madi on the head before shoving her off the bed. She falls not so gracefully with a squeal and throws a pillow at me once she’s upright. I apologize to my best friend and the beauty that is Zachary Levi for crossing him off the screen and pulling up my manuscript instead.

  ‘I’m going to rewrite it,’ I announce. ‘My leading lady is so much more. She doesn’t want to be swept off her feet or stuck in any sort of love triangle – she has better things to do,’ I finish, a beaming smile now etched on my fresh face.

  ‘I’m out of here,’ Madi says, clapping her hands together and giving me a proud and confident nod.

  I glance at the clock on my bedside table, grateful to the moon for keeping me awake; my script is due today and with the time difference in England I need to hurry. Lara wanted this script Christmas Eve-it’s Christmas Eve, I’m running out of time.

  But it’s still early here, only 5.35 a.m., which makes it 12.35 p.m. in London. Even though I’m cutting it fine, if I buckle down and focus, I might just pull this off and still make it in time to meet Poppy and Evan with Bella this afternoon.

  *

  Nearly eight solid hours later, I reach over to the bedside table and take a giant swig of refreshing tea. Then I uncurl my legs from a lotus position and stretch them out in front of me, twiddling my toes as I reach my arms in the air and make the same movement with my fingers. A lot can be said for Zachary Levi’s dazzling smile and for having a best friend as incredible as mine, because I think I’ve completed my script. I tilt my head from side to side loosening up my neck. Gone is the damsel in distress. Gone is the shy, insecure leading lady. In fact, gone is my original story. ‘That’s not how this story ends,’ I say out loud to myself as I click save.

  ‘No broken-hearted damsel in distress,’ I repeat, jumping off the bed. The floor cools my warm toes. I can see the sun bold, bright and magnificent in the sky through the sheer curtains. I pat down my robe and go to brush a hand through my stiff, still full of conditioner hair and repeat my mantra while trying to remember what day it is. Sometimes my scripts have that kind of effect on me, plucking me
out of the real world and plonking me back in it disorientated; today I feel that’s a great sign, I love this new version. My script is finished. I let out a huge sigh of relief that is mixed with genuine delight.

  Allowing myself to be so exposed earlier when I faced myself in the mirror, alongside Madi’s interference, finally knocked some sense into the part of my brain that kept looking back. With all the advice from Mum, Dad, Madi, Hayley and Jake, I really needed to listen to it, listen to myself and act on it. Once I did this, the words started flowing.

  I fire off an email to Lara praying that even though I know it’s spectacularly late- I usually have my scripts with her at nine am on deadline day not nine pm- that it will still count, and she won’t be too mad at me. Within minutes my laptop pings with a reply.

  ‘You just made it! Have a good Christmas, Harper. X,’ it reads. I let out a delirious laugh.

  ‘Oh, thank you, universe,’ I whisper. ‘Thank you, Madi,’ I add making to tidy up the tray and neaten up my bed from where I have been sprawled out across it.

  I catch my reflection, just faintly, in the glass behind the sheer curtains. I feel new. I look new. The woman I see is no longer a wife, no longer Scott’s. She has felt pain. She has felt humiliation. She has felt hopeless. But it is to be no more. The sun is positively luminous, the snow is glistening, and life goes on. I rush into the bathroom and rinse off the conditioner in my hair. It feels silky smooth as I leave it to dry naturally and pull on my festive red jumper, a pair of thick tights and my long navy skirt. It’s Christmas Eve at my parents’ house and I couldn’t feel happier to be here. Better yet, I have managed to complete my script before 1.30 p.m., which means I can still catch up with Bella today and meet Poppy and Evan.