Wishing Beach - Heather Burch
Prologue
Winter, 1987
Wishing Beach, Florida
Along the coastline of Florida, on a tiny stretch of beach, something magical happens. Wishes gather. They fill the shoreline and glisten like diamond dust on the water’s surface.
Standing guard on the beach, where dunes meet seagrass, is an ancient banyan tree whose dozens of wide, woody trunks are in fact, an aerial root system. The tree itself resembles a lone forest, its roots rising from the ground and attaching to its many branches creating a glorious—if not slightly mystical—canopy.
The tree sees all. And now and then, the leaves of the mighty banyan shudder and cause the wishes on this unusual beach to be visible to the human eye. But they are only visible to those with eyes to see—usually children who still believed in mystical things like fairies and dreams. Where others see the sun’s reflection, these children see wishes, each one unique. Some are wishes that have lingered for decades and simply refuse to die. Some are new. Hurting people are inexplicably drawn to this stretch of shoreline and so they come, and leave their heaviest burdens in the shifting sand of Wishing Beach.
It is said that a person who visits Wishing Beach will leave changed. The magic isn’t questioned. It simply is.
People come with open hearts. They come and they sit beside the water beneath the mighty banyan tree and shed tears only they understand. And in those tears, their deepest desires drop like Florida rain. Alone, wishes can do nothing. They must wait for someone brave enough to reach out and take one from the water. Every so often someone does reach out.
Angela Reed, nearly five, stood with her chubby toes curled into the sand. “Look Mommy,” she whispered with more reverence than one would think a five-year-old could muster. “They’re so pretty.”
But her mother was busy snapping photos with her new Nikon and trying to stay out of the direct sun.
A particular wish caught Angela’s eye as it bobbed on the surface. A translucent casing held shimmering sparks that danced with each swell of the rhythmic waves. Angela ran into the edge of the sea to grab the glittery orb.
“Angela, be careful!” Her mother hadn’t planned for the five-year-old to get wet.
The sandy haired child scooped the wish into her hand. Her mother met her at the water’s edge, careful not to get her new sandals baptized in seafoam.
Slowly Angela opened her chubby fingers. She cupped the wish with both hands and held it up for her mother to see. “Look Mommy.”
Claire Reed tossed her head to keep her hair off her face. She stared down into the empty hands of her child. Claire was a good mother and understood games of make believe. She treasured them, in fact. In this busy era of television and boom boxes, she encouraged anything that helped children to use their imaginations. “What is it, honey?”
A tiny smile played about her baby girl’s cherub face when her blue green eyes held her mother’s. “It’s a very special wish, Mommy.”
Claire tousled Angela’s hair. “And what is my baby girl wishing for?”
Angela pursed her bow mouth and two tiny dimples appeared. “It’s not my wish. It’s a wish from someone else. A long time ago, she stood on the beach here, and she cried, and she wished. She wished because she was sad, Mommy. But once her wish was said, she was okay. Her name is Olivia. And she’s pretty like you.”
Claire’s heart fluttered for a moment. Gooseflesh worked over her neck and shoulders. She cleared her throat and reached down to support her daughter’s tiny hands by cupping them with her own. “It’s very nice to meet you, Olivia.”
A deep belly laugh bubbled out of Angela. “You’re funny, Mommy. She’s not here. This is her wish.”
Well, of course. Claire didn’t mind being corrected by the oh so precocious five-year-old. She’d be doomed as a mother when Angela hit the teen years, of this she was certain.
The wind kicked up, and the small girl hunched against it, protecting the wish. “Until I break it open, I won’t know what’s inside.” With concentration furrowing her brow, Angela gently squeezed her hands tighter together then jostled them back and forth. Angela’s determination amazed Claire. This must be a very serious game of make-believe.
Near her daughter’s hands, Clair heard something crack open. She looked to the left and the right, confused by the sound that seemed to come from everywhere.
Angela gasped. “It broke open. Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s a beautiful wish, Mommy.