A Stroke Of Magic (18 page)

When the last line was drawn, the final detail sketched in, and there was no shading left to be completed, the magic whooshed out of me as quickly as it had come. The colors disappeared, the lights dimmed, and everything returned to normal. My hand shuddered to a stop and I dropped the pencil. My wrist ached; the muscles in my arm were tight, taut. I rubbed, first at my wrist and then at my arm, trying to ease the soreness that had come from drawing so fast.

All the while, I stared at the picture, taking it in, trying to understand why I’d drawn this specific image. I pushed a breath out. I sucked another back in. I tried to feel nothing but happiness, but a shroud of disappointment existed, heavy and unrelenting, and I couldn’t quite erase it. Envy churned inside of me. Maybe that made me a bad sister, but I couldn’t help it and I couldn’t stop it.

For the picture wasn’t of me. Though, on closer appraisal of the wedding, I was there too—at the far end of the first pew, holding a baby who was likely my daughter. A man sat next to me, but only his arm, swung over my shoulders, could be seen. The bride and groom were smiling. Love shone brilliant and clear in their eyes.

No, it wasn’t me. It was my sister and Nate, on
their
wedding day. Which, apparently, was going to happen sometime in the next year, based on the age of my daughter. I peered closer at the drawing, trying to gather as much information as possible, but honestly—as far as my dilemma went—there wasn’t much to see. An arm, a hand, the ridge of his shoulder, the edge of his watch peeking out from beneath his sleeve. Not enough of anything. Nothing distinctive. But then my eyes landed on his hand again, his left hand. And, assuming it was the same man from the first drawing, in this representation the wedding ring was absent.

Interesting, but completely unhelpful.

My doorbell rang, and I hesitantly set the sketchpad down and went to answer. It was Chloe, and while I was happy—no, thrilled—to see her, my heart still ached.

“I don’t like things like this,” she confessed, standing barely inside my door.

“I don’t either. I’ve called Kyle four times, though. He’s not calling me back. So, if you’re here to get mad at me again, please don’t. I can’t take it tonight.”

She tucked a strand of red hair behind one ear. “I’ve been an emotional, whiny witch. I’m sorry.” A slight pause. “None of this is your fault.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly been calm and serene. And it’s not your fault, either.”

Her lips tipped up into a faint smile. “Okay. So. Where does that leave us?”

“We’re friends, Chloe. Nothing has changed.” And in the snap of a finger, the tension between us lessened. “Come on in.”

She did, and her eyes swept the room and then me. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there?”

“Nate and Elizabeth are getting married.” I led the way into the dining room, plopping myself into the chair I’d just vacated.

“Wow! That’s great news! Why do you look so down about it?” She settled next to me.

“I’m happy for them, but I thought I was drawing my wedding.” I shoved the sketchbook toward her and then let her in on what had just occurred, not leaving anything out. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

Chloe’s eyes clouded. “You’re right. It doesn’t. Almost as if something is blocking you. Or someone. Is that possible?”

I thought about it for a minute. “No. I don’t think that’s it. It’s more like I don’t know the rules, or am missing some critical component.” Another thought wove into my brain. “You know that first drawing? I don’t think that was me at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“That one was Elizabeth’s magic, not mine. I’d bet money on it.” Glancing down at the wedding picture, I continued, “And this one was my magic. The difference in the two, as far as what I experienced, is huge.”

“So what does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” Suddenly I remembered the other drawing: the one with the older woman rocking my daughter. Grabbing the sketchbook, I flipped to that page. “This one was different too. No colors or lights, just the static electricity stuff.”

“Let me see that.” Chloe pulled the drawing to her and dipped her head forward. “Who’s the woman? And what were you doing, or wishing, when you drew this?”

Shrugging, I said, “No clue about the woman. It was the day after you all were here, right after I found out everything. I wished to draw the beach scene from a different perspective, thinking I might be able to see the man’s face. Nothing happened. So I sort of yelled at Miranda, and that’s when I drew it.”

Chloe’s green eyes rounded. “She was here?”

“No. Or, if she was, I didn’t see her. But I was frustrated…”

“What did you yell? Do you remember?”

“Um. Let me think.” Hesitating, I brought back the moment. “I stayed home from work because I didn’t feel well. I don’t remember all of it, but I know I asked her to help me.”

A sizzle of excitement whipped through Chloe’s body. “And you drew this then? Right away?”

“Yep.” I shuddered. “This picture scares me. I’ve been trying to forget about it.”

“Scares you how?”

“That’s my daughter.” I pointed to the picture of the child. “And I have no idea who that woman rocking her is. So it makes me believe that this picture is what will happen if I don’t find my soul mate. That someone else will raise her. And that makes me afraid of what will happen to me.”

Chloe paled. “Yeah, that is scary. I didn’t even think of that. I was thinking that maybe this woman, whoever she is, knows who your soul mate is.”

I tried that idea on for size, then shook my head. “I don’t think so.” Out of nowhere, I thought of Beatrice, my child’s other grandmother. “Oh my God. Maybe I do know who she is.”

“Who?”

Forcing myself to chill, I caught Chloe up to speed on Missy, Troy, and the fact that his mother had requested a meeting—which I’d agreed to. Whereas before I’d been fairly ambivalent about the meeting, now I felt real anxiety. “So, if it turns out this woman is Beatrice Bellamy, then what?”

“Well, maybe your hunch is correct and Beatrice would raise your daughter if you don’t find your soul mate, but maybe it isn’t. The picture still might mean she knows the identity of your man.”

“It’s not Troy. I’m positive of that.” The very notion sent a wave of nausea through me. “No. It’s not him.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know, this could just mean that Beatrice becomes a part of your life after the baby is born. Don’t get all worked up. It could mean anything. Or nothing.”

“You know what? Let’s put this discussion on hold until I meet her. Because right now, there’s way too much that’s up in the air.” My gaze hit the drawing again and I shivered, because no matter what Chloe said, I knew it meant something.

My friend didn’t push the issue. We talked a little more about Kyle, and how I’d keep trying to get a hold of him. Things got a little weird then, and I worried we might be headed into another danger area, so I switched subjects and related Grandma Verda’s latest exploit.

“She’s awesome. And it’s a good idea. I’ll help you go through the photos when she has them ready.” Chloe stifled a yawn. “I’m tired. I hadn’t expected to stay this long. Mostly I wanted to make sure we were still okay.”

I nodded. “I’m glad you did. We’ve talked nearly every day for the last fifteen years…it was odd not checking in with you. Not knowing how you were doing. But I wanted to give you space, like you asked for, so I didn’t bug you.”

After our make-up moment was over, Chloe let herself out and I readied myself for bed. The next day was my date with Ethan—something I’d looked forward to all week but now approached with more than a little nervousness. Somehow I needed to question him about the scar thing without being too obvious. I also wanted to know more about the woman he’d proposed to. Of course, that was nothing but pure nosiness.

Ambling into my bedroom, I saw the rose petal from Miranda’s initial visit. I hadn’t thought about it in weeks, and I was positive I’d put it away for safekeeping. But there it was, sitting on top of my jewelry box. And yep, it still looked just as fresh, just as newly plucked, as it had the first moment I saw it. Weird.

Picking it up, I stroked the petal with my finger. It didn’t alter, morph, or bleed through my fingers like it had earlier. But as I held it, dizziness whirled into me. Backing up, I sat on the edge of my bed, willing the lightheadedness to stop, but it didn’t, so I closed my eyes and struggled to find my balance. My stomach whooshed, my hands grew clammy, and quivers itched along my skin.

When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer sitting in my bedroom. It didn’t surprise me, nor did it scare me, as somehow strangeness had become the norm. The realization of that bothered me more than the actuality of what was happening around me. This time, at least, my feet were solidly on the ground, and I stood outside a large white Victorian-style house.

The scent of spring drifted through the air. Where was I? This didn’t look anything like the short vision from before. I turned around in a circle, looking for something—anything—that would clue me in on what I was supposed to be seeing, on what I was supposed to be learning. Nothing jumped out at me.

Trusting my instincts, I walked toward the house. Before I reached the porch, the front door opened. A woman and a little girl stepped out, sitting down on the front step. The child appeared to be five or six, her long hair curled around her face in ringlets. I didn’t recognize the woman. Of course, they didn’t see me. I was only a spectator. Nothing but a ghost, really. And they didn’t have any idea I stood so close to them. There didn’t seem to be anything odd happening, nothing that made me understand why I was there.

I blinked, and in the space of that blink the scene changed again. Now I stood somewhere else. Still outside. Still spring. My eyes swept the area, and instead of the grand Victorian home, the house in front of me was quite small but well kept. I waited for someone to walk outside, but the door stayed firmly shut.

A lighthearted giggle floated through the air. Following the sound, I walked to the back of the house. When I reached the corner, I saw Miranda—a slightly older version of the pregnant Miranda from my earlier time warp—hanging laundry on a line. Next to her, a little girl sat in the grass, playing with a doll. The same child I’d just seen. Except her clothes weren’t quite as fancy, and her hair was styled differently; instead of ringlets, it hung straight around her face. Confused, I tried to make sense of what I’d been shown, but nothing clicked.

I blinked again, and this time, at the end of that blink, I was back in my bedroom. Stunned, I dropped the rose petal and watched it float to the floor. What in heaven’s name was Miranda trying to show me?

Suddenly, from somewhere deep inside, I knew the answer: Miranda hadn’t had one child; she’d had two.

“Twins?” I whispered.

“You’re such a smart girl.” Miranda’s voice shimmered into me, but when I searched the room, she was nowhere to be found.

“Are you there?” I asked. The scent of roses tickled my nose.

“I am here, in a way. What’s important is that you are correct. I indeed gave birth to identical twins, but was only allowed to know one of them.”

“Allowed? Who made that decision for you?” I so wished I could see her. Talking to the air felt a little like I’d lost my mind.

“Her father. He bribed the people closest to me. If I’d only had one daughter, he would have taken her.”

Pain, fast and furious, dug into my heart. How could anyone do that? How had my ancestor lived with it? “Why didn’t you go get her?”

Her voice lost its tinkling bell quality. Sadness reverberated in every word she spoke. “By the time I found her, it was too late. She was happy, deeply ensconced in her family, and even though it was the hardest thing I’d ever done, I decided to let her stay. But now everything has changed. It’s time for the truth to come out.”

“What do you mean? She’s long gone.” Okay, that came out badly. “Sorry…but it’s not like she’s still alive.”

Miranda’s voice was firm. “My family, my daughters, need to recognize each other, to help each other. I can’t rest until the circle is complete. I need your help for that to happen. I need you to close the circle.”

“But how? Do you know where her descendants are today?”

Breath touched my ear. “All in good time, Alice. But the answer exists inside of you, around you. If you search, you’ll find it.”

I knew without asking that she’d left. What I didn’t know was why this vision, this knowledge, was so important. Did it have anything to do with my soul mate search? Or was it just another piece of a puzzle that was too huge to see all at once?

It seemed the only one with all the answers was Miranda. But she’d already said her piece, so once again, I had a whole bunch of questions with no clear answers. Awesome.

The sudden jangle of my telephone interrupted my early-Saturday-afternoon preparations for the date with Ethan. Worried it was him calling to cancel, I flipped the phone over to catch a look at the caller ID. It read: Chloe Nichols. To say I was relieved is a massive understatement. Besides which, I’d finally talked to Kyle that morning, and we’d set up a date. Or, to my way of thinking, a meeting, because no way could I consider it anything else. But I hadn’t yet told Chloe.

“Hey, Chloe. What’s up?” I asked, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder, all set to give her the news she’d been waiting for.

“Oh my God, Alice! We’ve been doing this wrong.”

I removed the lid from my eyeliner and leaned close to the mirror. “What are you talking about?”

“Last night. Your magic. You were still thinking about Elizabeth, and her worries about Nate, and that led you to draw a picture of their future.”

“Uh-huh.” Finished with one eye, only half listening because I was still thinking about Kyle, I moved the kohl brown pencil to my other eye.

“I have goose bumps. This is so cool.”

“What is? You’re confusing me.”

“It’s precognition! Maybe your magic isn’t so much about wishes coming true as it is about telling the future.”

Her words hit me hard. My hand stumbled, and instead of the larger-than-life eyes I’d been going for, I had a thick brown line edging down my cheek. “Sec,” I mumbled, wiping the mess off of my face. Well, I tried to, anyway.

Could she be right? I mean, the magic had certainly been much more forceful with the wedding drawing than with anything else that had happened, including the accidental wishes. “If that’s the case, then why haven’t I been able to draw a clear picture of my soul mate?”

“I think it’s because you can’t see your own future, only the futures of those around you. It lines up with what you said, that this time you thought it was your magic and not Elizabeth’s.”

Ignoring the bruiselike smudge on my cheek, I collapsed onto my bed and considered my friend’s words. Was my gift somehow different from my grandmother’s? From my sister’s? Theirs had to do with wishes, and from what my grandmother had said, it had always been that way. But…

“So now I’m a fortune-teller or something? And what about the wishes that have come true?”

“Who knows? You’re pregnant with a magical baby. Maybe your wishes coming true are only because of her. Like, an excess of power in your system.”

I choked out a laugh. “Very funny. You make it sound like hormones.”

“Maybe it is like that. The wish stuff didn’t happen right away; you were what—four months or so along before it started?” She sighed, clearly unsure. “Okay, I don’t know. But it’s a possibility, and right now, until you talk to Miranda again, it’s a good guess. If it’s true, I think I know how to use it to our advantage.”

“Go on,” I said.

“Instead of trying to draw your soul mate or your future, instead of trying to wish for anything to happen, try to draw
Ethan’s
future. Or Kyle’s.” She hesitated. “Or mine.”

I exhaled. “I’m pretty sure it needs to be more exact than that. Like, a specific thing in their futures.” And then another thought occurred: “And maybe there has to be a reason for me to even be able to use the magic in that way.”

“What do you mean?” Chloe asked.

I didn’t know, exactly. But a thread of knowledge teased at me, pulled hard. It was right there, only I couldn’t quite grab it. “Elizabeth was upset…so somehow that set the magic off? Like an inciting incident, maybe?” I sighed in exasperation. “It’s not coming out right. But I don’t think it’s as easy as sitting down with a pencil and saying, wishing,
whatever,
‘Show me so-and-so’s future.’”

“Maybe not. But it doesn’t hurt to try,” Chloe pushed.

“Try what, exactly?”

“To rule out either Kyle or Ethan. Pick one and try to draw his wedding day.”

I hesitated. I hadn’t told Chloe about the very high possibility that Ethan didn’t have a scar, and I didn’t think I was going to. At least, not now. Not until I knew for sure. Because that would only make her focus even harder on Kyle, would make our relationship even more strained. Especially now that I’d done what she wanted and set up a meeting with him. “I can’t now. Ethan will be here soon. But…I need to tell you something.”

Chloe wouldn’t be dissuaded from her earlier point. “But later? You’ll try later? This could be it, Alice. The key we’ve been missing.”

“Yeah. Of course I’ll try later,” I promised.

“And. Um. Can you also try to draw my wedding day? Or even just a picture of the guy I end up with?” Her voice was soft and tentative, but a giant vat of want lurked beneath.

“Sure, Chloe. If that’s what you really want. But it hasn’t worked so well for me,” I reminded her.

“Right, but I’m not you. So yes, please, see what you come up with.” Her tone went up a notch in excitement. “Your turn now. What was it you wanted to say?”

“Oh.” Swallowing, I made myself continue. “I got hold of Kyle this morning. We’re meeting for lunch on Monday.”

The responding quiet seemed louder than any scream I’d ever heard. Finally Chloe said, “Okay. That’s good. It needs to happen. You’ll let me know how it goes?”

“Of course I will. But are you really feeling things for him again? Seriously?”

Another pause. “I don’t know. There’s something there, but it might just be leftover stuff from our past.”

“Be careful, okay? There are other guys out there, you know. Guys who are interested in you.”

She snorted, her good humor returned. “Yeah? Like whom?”

“Scot, for one.” Oh, God. How had that slipped out? My brother was going to kill me.

“Scot? As in your brother Scot?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you trying to set us up? Because if so, just stop. He’s a nice guy, and I’m sure he’ll make some woman incredibly happy someday. But not me. He’s family to me, Alice.”

Deciding to leave it at that, because come on, I already knew she felt that way, I faked a laugh. “Can’t blame me for trying to make you an official member of the Raymond family.”

She laughed too, and then we hung up.

I continued to get ready, but my conversation with Chloe refused to leave my brain. Maybe if I had time before Ethan showed, I’d see if her thoughts about the magic were correct. The thing was, what I hadn’t admitted to her, what I’d barely admitted to myself, was that it felt right. So why, then, did I want to do anything but draw Ethan’s future?

Ha. I knew why. I was too afraid it wouldn’t be me in it.

When Ethan arrived at my door, a ball of nervous energy had me pausing before opening up. He wore jeans that were just snug enough to show every luscious detail of his muscular thighs, a dark green long-sleeved jersey-type shirt, and a smile that made my belly quiver. A blast of rain-soaked wind followed him inside.

“Whew. It feels more like October out there than June,” I said, slamming the door shut behind him and then wrapping my arms around myself to warm up.

Sliding his umbrella closed, he tipped it against the wall. “It’s actually quite chilly.” His lips lifted into a semi-sheepish grin. “I planned the most perfect day today, taking every last detail into consideration—except, it appears, slashing cold rain.”

Laughter bubbled up in me, but I swallowed it back down. “And what was on your perfect sunny day plan?”

He chuckled. “I’m not telling. I’ll save it for another day.”

Wow. He was already planning another day. With me. The tease of a shiver touched my skin. “Oh, come on. Just one hint?”

“Absolutely not. But I’ve come up with another plan, also a secret until we get there. While not nearly as romantic as the original, it should do well enough to pass the time.” Uncertainty sparked into his eyes. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed.”

I laughed. “I’m sure it will be wonderful. Just let me grab my jacket and I’ll be ready.”

Ten minutes later, I sat next to Ethan as he drove toward our mystery destination. I’d thought so much about this date, I should have been prepared. Unfortunately, my mind refused to focus. Instead, it meandered between my conversation with Chloe and her new magic hypothesis to my latest time warp. The whole Miranda-birthed-twins twist still boggled my mind. I mean, somewhere out there were relatives I hadn’t known I had. Sure, it wasn’t the same as finding out you had a long-lost sibling, because we were talking about cousins many, many times removed, but it still fascinated me.

“What are you so quiet about over there?” Ethan asked. Strangely, the sound of his voice soothed my jumbled nerves.

“My crazy family.”

“Aren’t all families crazy?” he asked.

I pivoted so I could see him better. Once again, my eyes found that cute cleft in his chin. “Not like mine.” A crack of thunder reverberated overhead, and lightning flashed through the windows. “We could’ve stayed at my place, where it’s dry. Watched a DVD, ordered in Chinese or pizza or something. I should have thought of it.”

“But then I’d have had to rely on my wicked sense of humor, magnetic personality, and charming repartee to impress you. I’m not sure I could’ve pulled it off.”

A laugh I’d held back emerged. “Somehow, I don’t think it would have been a problem. You’ve already impressed me.”

“Well, then, maybe we can do the DVD and Chinese later. After I woo you with my brilliant date-planning techniques,” he teased. “Today, I’m all yours.”

All mine? For not the first time, I wondered what it would be like to have Ethan in my bed, his hands on me, mine on him, our limbs entwined. An image of the two of us doing just that struck, and a hot rush of desire mixed with longing swarmed over me. I pressed my legs tightly together and forced myself to breathe evenly. My reaction was startling. This was not the time for fantasies—not when Ethan sat so close.

It was hard to let the image go. Pushing it away the best I could, I asked, “So, no hints on where we’re going?” Not that I really cared, but I hoped it was something laid-back, somewhere we could actually talk to each other.

“Nope. But you’re free to guess. I’ll tell you if you’re correct.”

“Hmm.” My mind browsed through the various possibilities. “A movie theater?” He shook his head. “One of Chicago’s fine museums?” Another shake. “Okay, then. I give up.”

“We’re almost there. I just hope you’re not a poor loser. Because what we’re going to do is something at which I’m exceptional.”

“Wow, just a little modesty there.” My smile widened to the point that my cheeks hurt.

“I can always give you some pointers.” His right hand skimmed my knee for just a second. A delicious curl of want licked at me. “In fact, I’d love to give you some pointers.”

When we pulled into the parking lot of our destination, I laughed again. “Bowling? You are so in trouble. I’m going to kick your butt. I’ll be giving
you
pointers.”

“Is that so?”

“I grew up in a large family. Whenever there was an argument between us kids, my dad would take us bowling.” I grinned. “We had lots of fights, so we spent a lot of time at alleys. You’re so going to lose,” I teased.

Unfastening his seat belt, his eyes met mine. “So…you’re not disappointed?”

“Not at all!” I told him. “I think this is the perfect way to spend a rainy few hours.” Well, I could think of one other indoor recreation that I’d also enjoy, but bowling worked well enough. It was casual, fun, and maybe I could squeeze in a few questions between frames.

“Then let’s get to it. Wait here. I’ll come around with the umbrella.” He did, and we ran inside together, his arm draped lightly around my waist. And guess what? Wind, rain, and gloomy skies did nothing to alter my pleasure or excitement.

That feeling didn’t change over the next several hours. I won the first the game. He won the second. We were halfway through the third—the tiebreaker—and I still hadn’t managed to ask him anything of merit. But at that moment, I didn’t care. I was having way too much fun.

“You’re better than I thought you’d be. They have bowling in Ireland?” I asked.

“No, Alice. Ireland is sadly lacking in bowling alleys, miniature golf courses, and any other types of recreation,” he deadpanned. “A few soda bottles, a rubber ball, and my backyard was the closest thing I had.” He sighed. “It was a difficult youth. You should take pity on me.”

I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “Nice try, but I’m still going to win.”

And I did.

Two hours later, after eating dinner out, we pulled up in front of my condo. “I had a great time with you today. You’re quite the worthwhile opponent,” Ethan said, shutting the car off.

“I loved today,” I admitted, then hesitated before forging ahead. “It’s still early. Want to come in for a while?” I desperately wanted him to say yes.

“I was hoping you’d ask. And remember, the romantic date I had planned is still on the table. Maybe we’ll have the weather for it next weekend.”

“I can’t wait,” I replied.

But what if everything changed by then? Everything in me only wanted to get to know Ethan better. I wanted to follow my instincts full speed ahead and see where we might end up. Why couldn’t I do that? Why did I have to make some choice based on nothing but a vaguely worded warning? Maybe, regardless of how I’d felt earlier, I didn’t have to? I mean, wasn’t it up to me? This was my love life, after all.

Ethan followed me inside, but my thoughts were still preoccupied. “Want some tea or something? I think I might have some wine left in the fridge, if you’d like that,” I offered.

“Nah. I just want to talk to you.” He clasped my hand in his, and pulled me toward the living room. We sat on the couch, and as his arm came around my shoulders, awareness rippled through me. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. Really good.” Physically, anyway. But as I looked at him, I saw something simmering below the surface. I found myself wishing he’d tell me exactly what he was thinking, and as the thought whipped through me, a strong shiver followed. I gasped.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tightening his hold on my shoulders.

“Um. Yeah.” Even as I spoke, I recognized something had changed. The air between us was charged with unseen bolts of electricity. My heart hammered in my chest, so loudly that I was surprised he didn’t hear.