The Wishing Trees Read Online Free PDF Page A

show you something,” he said, lifting her, stepping toward the desk where his wallet lay. He sat down on one of the steel stools and opened the wallet, sorting through it until he produced a dog-eared photo of Kate lying on their hammock. He’d taken the photo just a few weeks before Mattie was born, and Kate’s belly rose from beneath her sundress. Her face, in so many ways like Mattie’s, was dominated by a wide smile. Her eyes were locked on Ian, and her hands cradled her belly.
    Ian handed the photo to Mattie. “Your mum loved being pregnant with you. Most of her friends, to be honest, weren’t so keen on the experience. But she adored it.”
    “She did?”
    “She fancied your kicks, which were so strong. That’s why I nicknamed you ‘Roo.’ I’d seen so many kangaroos down in Oz. And you reminded me of them.”
    “But, Daddy, I don’t remember Mommy looking like that. Looking so happy. All I see are the tubes.”
    “You have to try and—”
    “I do try.”
    Ian kissed her forehead, his thumb making its back-and-forth motion on a BlackBerry that he no longer carried. His stomach ached as if he hadn’t eaten in days. He wished he knew what to say, the way Kate had always seemed to. “Sometimes that happens to me,” he said, kissing Mattie again. “I see those tubes. But then I take out this photo, and I look at it, and then that’s how I remember her.”
    “You do?”
    “I remember how, on that day, she was knackered and needed a rest. It was a warm spring day. A real beaut. And I got out the hammock, put it on our little deck, and she lay down for a spell of reading. I surprised her with the camera, and when she smiled and wrapped her arms around you, I took the shot. And whenever I want to remember what she was really like, I take out that photo and have a good gander.”
    “But I don’t have a—”
    “Take that one, luv. We’ll tape it to the back of your drawing. That way you can look at them both.”
    Mattie shook her head. “But then you won’t have it.”
    “We’ll share it, Roo. You and me. Like everything else.”
    “You don’t mind?”
    “Not a bit.”
    She hugged him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Sorry for waking you up. I was cold. And that bed’s too hard. I can’t sleep on it.”
    “No worries, luv, about waking me up. I needed to get off my backside anyway. I’m going to take you on an adventure today. A real Captain Cook.”
    “Promise?”
    “Absobloodylutely.”
    “Should I bring my pencils?”
    “Aye, aye, First Mate,” he replied, kissing her on the forehead and standing up, drained from the acting, wondering if either of them could manage this trip, wishing that Kate hadn’t sent them on it. He went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and thought about Mattie’s tears and shudders. He had to make her laugh today, he told himself time and time again, his eyes tightly shut, his fists squeezing so hard that his fingernails left imprints on his palms. If she didn’t laugh, then he would have failed her once again. She needed him, needed to hope for better days, even if he could not.
    Turning on the shower, he tried to keep his own tears at bay until the water fell on him. When it did, he leaned against the tiled wall, his strength ebbing, flowing down the drain, disappearing from light. For a while it felt as if he were drowning, suffocating in a millimeter of water. He longed for help, but no one could help him. He yearned for tomorrow, yet the day had just begun. His every plea seemed to rebound from the nearby walls, to reenter him unanswered. Cursing himself for once working like a madman, for being gone so much of Mattie’s life, he wondered how he might meet her needs and repress her fears. He wanted to lift her above the muck and misery of life but felt incapable of such a task. To lift her, he had to be a part of her, as Kate had been. But he didn’t feel a part of her. Sometimes she was like a foreign language on his tongue.
    Afraid that