A Stroke Of Magic (25 page)

Chloe stepped forward. “Isn’t there anything else you can tell Alice? She’s in love with Ethan and he doesn’t seem to be the man in her drawing. How can that be?”

Miranda’s form hazed out, the lights and colors dimmed, but her voice remained. “Alice has her answers…if she knows where to look, if she lets herself believe.”

As quickly as she’d arrived, she left. The scent of roses disappeared, and the chaotic energy in the room ebbed. Annoyed I’d gotten nothing new from her, I slumped forward.

“That was so cool!” Chloe rubbed her arms. “I can’t believe I met a ghost. How do you think your mom’s handling it?”

Good question. “I don’t know. She’ll either pretend it never happened or wait to bring it up.” I hoped she’d wait. I mean, eventually I’d be excited to talk to her about Miranda, about everything that existed in our family, but not now. Not when I could barely breathe.

Elizabeth aimed her gaze my way. “Did anything Miranda said make any sort of difference for you?”

“It’s the same stuff she always says. So, no.”

This wasn’t quite the truth, though, because all at once, something hung there right on the edge of my comprehension. I didn’t give it too much thought, because unless I could find a way to make Ethan my soul mate, or turn back the clock to stop myself from falling head over heels…well, I just flat-out didn’t care.

The staff meeting came to an abrupt end the following Tuesday afternoon. I was grateful for it, because listening to Ethan talk for a full hour had been agony through and through. Even worse, he’d barely glanced my way the entire time. In fact, he’d only spoken directly to me once, and that was to state that while Mr. Kendall had been impressed with both campaigns, he’d decided to go with Missy’s ideas for the Frosty’s Ice Cream Shoppe account. Most of his customers were families with kids, so he thought Missy’s kid-focused campaign was a better fit.

Maybe this should have disappointed me, but it didn’t. Seeing as I’d decided to accept the job at the gallery, it was better for Missy to get the accolades, anyway. That decision had become an easy one, at least. Not so much because of Ethan, but because I could now admit the gallery just fit me and my life better than Enchanted Expressions.

But I’d be lying if I said Ethan had
nothing
to do with it. How could he not? After all, he was all I could think of.

I shuffled out of the conference room, intent on making it to my desk. I hadn’t put my notice in yet, because after talking to Maura, it definitely seemed better to wait until after the baby was born to make a change. I’d make it official soon, though, so Ethan would have plenty of time to find a replacement.

“Alice? Could I see you in my office, please?” Ethan’s voice hit me from behind and a tight knot of anxiety curled in the middle of my back.

“Of course. Let me drop this stuff off at my desk and I’ll be right there.” I didn’t turn around, just kept walking. What did he want? Was it personal or business?

Dumb question, because anything to do with Ethan was acutely personal.

I took my time, but even so, less than fifteen minutes later I approached Grandma Verda’s desk. It was her last week helping out, as Ethan’s new assistant was set to begin the following Monday. Rather than being relieved, it made me a little sad. I’d enjoyed having her in the office. She did little things that I appreciated, like ordering my favorite brand of herbal tea for the break room, stopping by my desk in the mornings with a treat of some sort, and sending me funny e-mails just to make me laugh.

Beyond that, she’d systematically impressed one person after another at Enchanted Expressions. Accounting loved her because she’d gotten several delinquent accounts to pay up. The administrative staff thought she walked on water because she’d fixed their temperamental copy machine. And she’d mediated several crises between creative and whoever they were arguing with at any particular moment, making her the most wanted person in the office.

All in all, Grandma Verda rocked. Plain and simple.

I stopped in front in of her. “Is he in there?” I nodded toward his closed door.

“He is. Waiting for you.” Her blue eyes shifted away for a second. “If you don’t want to talk to him, I can make up an excuse.”

“No, Grandma. I’m still an employee here. So that means if the boss wants to talk to me, the boss gets to talk to me. I’ll be fine.” Or, at least, I’d pretend to be fine. Somehow.

Worry clouded her gaze. “Okay, then. Good luck, sweetie.”

I rapped on the door once and then pushed it open. Ethan sat behind his desk, ramrod straight. I hovered at the threshold, ignoring the urge to run to him, to kiss him, to tell him I’d made a horrible mistake and I was sorry. Oh-so-sorry.

Jaw tense, eyes shielded, he nodded toward a chair. “Take a seat, Alice.”

He spoke in his take-charge, all-about-business voice. My palms were moist, so I slid them down my skirt. Attempting to look poised, in control of my feelings, I crossed the room. In all likelihood I failed, but points to me for trying.

“If this is about the Frosty’s account, it’s cool,” I said. “I’m not upset he chose Missy’s campaign ideas.”

“That’s not it.” Ethan’s gaze drifted down to the open file on his desk and then back to me. “I have Troy’s papers back from my attorney. There’s a problem with them. I can tell you, or if you prefer I can set up an appointment with the lawyer.”

Okay, this was not what I’d expected. The urge to kiss Ethan fled, because now, worry about my daughter crept in. “Go on. It’ll drive me nuts if I have to wait. What’s the issue?”

“It appears that, until the baby is born, Troy has no rights to give up.” He tapped his fingers on the file as he spoke, his voice flat. “My attorney assures me that these papers are worthless until you, or a court, designate Troy as the father. Even then, they might not do you much good.”

His words bounced around in my head. Worthless? How could they be worthless? “I don’t understand. He
is
the father. This is what
he
wants.”

“Correct, but paternity hasn’t been legally established, and what he wants might not matter to the court,” he said, an edge of anger evident.

“Oh.” I focused on the first part, trying to think logically. “So basically, once she’s born and I put his name on her birth certificate, then the papers can be submitted?”

“Correct,” he repeated. “The possibility then exists, however, for a judge to rule against these documents. It’s actually very unlikely a court will remove his parental rights, even with his wishes, unless he is deemed an unfit parent.”

“But he doesn’t want anything to do with her! Why go through all of this if that’s the case? I don’t want to force him to do anything.”

Compassion flickered. “The attorney had a suggestion, but it’s chancy.”

“What is it?” Not only didn’t I want to force Troy into anything, I really didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

“If you’re absolutely sure that Troy doesn’t want to be a father, then don’t put his name on the birth certificate. He can come back at a later date if he changes his mind, and ask for DNA testing, but it gets both of you off the hook to begin with.”

Ew.
The idea came off as shady to me, but maybe if I talked to Troy and he agreed, I’d feel better about it. And let’s face it: there was no way Troy wouldn’t agree.

“Maybe,” I said, releasing a breath.

“I also have a suggestion.” The timbre of Ethan’s voice deepened, and something in his eyes made my heart flutter. Every part of me focused on him.

“What?” I reminded myself to breathe.

He stared at me, as if weighing his words, and my belly quivered. “We’ve both talked about how strong our connection is and how quickly it emerged. I’ve told you before that you’re a woman I can see spending my life with. Nothing has changed for me, so I’d like you to reconsider your decision. I’d like you to trust in our feelings.” He inhaled deeply and then exhaled. “Marry me, Alice. Let me adopt your baby.”

He was proposing? After everything I’d told him, after walking away from him, hurting him, he wanted to marry me? A rush of dizziness had me clenching my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My eyes welled and I held them open as wide as possible, knowing if I blinked, I’d cry.

“I didn’t fight before. I’m fighting now. For us.” He wiped his hands over his face. When he dropped them, the hope that existed there tore into me, ignited my own hope…and then slowly fizzled out. Because he was right: nothing had changed.

Why oh why couldn’t I say yes? Everything I wanted was right here, right in front of me, just waiting for me to grab it. But I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn’t. “Ethan…I—”

“Right.” The word erupted like a clap of thunder. “Still no scar. And that’s the only thing that will change your mind, isn’t it?” He slid the file with Troy’s papers across the desk. “Save these, so if you ever need to prove Troy’s intentions, you can.”

And so it seemed, just like he’d said the other day: that was that.

Aaron wiped at the coffee he’d spilled on his shirt, little bits of paper napkin sticking to the wet fabric. “So…uh…when do you think you’ll make a decision on the model thing?”

The last of my oh-so-not-fun speed dating sessions appeared to be ending pretty much like the first three had. Zilch for sparks, zip for interest, and nada for getting over Ethan. Basically, I was still screwed and in love with the wrong guy.

I sighed and handed him another napkin, just wanting this over with. So I could go back home and try to think of new ways to prove I was supposed to be with Ethan. “Well. The thing is…there isn’t really a job.” While I hadn’t told any of my other “dates” the truth, Aaron was just so adorably cute—like a puppy dog—that keeping up the pretense somehow rubbed me the wrong way.

Giving up on his latest wet splotch, he frowned. “What is this about then?”

I wiggled in my seat. “Well,” I said. “It’s more like a date thing.”

Green eyes bugged out behind his glasses. “You’ve gone through all of this to meet men? Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t place the ad; my grandmother did. It’s lame, and I’m sorry, but there you have it.” Probably, he’d threaten to sue—or dump his coffee on my head. Neither of which would surprise me. Well, not that I actually thought he
could
sue. Could he?

He blinked. “This is odd. I can’t completely decide if I’m flattered or creeped out.”

“Be creeped out. I would be,” I confided. “And I’m sorry. It was a bad idea and I should have stopped it immediately.” Because come on, I’d known nothing would come from it.

“Why did you come then? Why not stand me up? Or call to cancel and tell your grandmother it didn’t work out?”

“All very good points.” I hesitated. Sure, the practical reasons for keeping the dates were sound, but he didn’t need the
whole
truth. Finally, I shrugged. “Sometimes my grandmother knows what she’s talking about, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Alrighty then. I’m sorry too. The job would have been cool, but I’m not in the market for a girlfriend.” He cleared his throat. “My current girlfriend will think this is hilarious.” Standing, he smiled, though it was a bit tentative. “I’m going to take off, since there isn’t a job and all. But…uh…thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem on the coffee, and thank you for being decent about this.”

He nodded and left. Leaning back, I put my feet up on the chair he’d vacated and sipped my chai tea, trying to ignore the ache that refused to leave. Beyond that? Well, going home and informing Grandma Verda the dates had been a bust didn’t thrill me. She’d come up with something new. Likely something else I’d hate.

Wow, the dates had definitely been a bust. Not just in the lack-of-feeling department, but also in the what-else-can-possibly-go-wrong department. The first guy’s chair had broken for no apparent reason. Number two had suffered some sort of allergic reaction halfway through and spent the remaining time scratching his arm like crazy. Three couldn’t stop sneezing—maybe another allergy? And poor Aaron had spilled coffee on himself repeatedly.

Yeah, all in all they’d been more than weird. More than a little humorous too. Part of me thought my daughter was exerting her magic to point out these men were wrong for me, but that was silly. Wasn’t it? Or maybe it was just overly hopeful, because other than the sprinkler thing in the beginning, all of my dates with Ethan had been accident-free. And yeah, Chloe would definitely say the mishaps were a sign of some sort. And hey, maybe they were. Who was I to argue with fate?

My thoughts, as usual, reverted to Ethan, his proposal, and the look in his eyes when I’d walked out his door. Pain curled inside of me again, just as fresh as it had at that moment. In my heart, I still couldn’t believe he wasn’t my soul mate. Did that mean I was missing something, or wanted it to be true so badly I only hoped that was the case? Miranda had told me to believe, but that could mean anything. She’d also said the answers were there, if I’d only look for them.

But I
had
looked. Repeatedly. And kept coming up blank. Even my new understanding of my magic hadn’t made a difference. Honestly? I was kind of sick of the whole magic thing, because if it couldn’t help me, if it couldn’t point me to Ethan, what good was it?

Ugh. I hated this. I hated how much I missed him, how drained and empty each and every day felt. Not to mention how much it freaking hurt.

Weird, how not that long ago, all I’d wanted was to find some measure of control in my life, and now…well, I’d give up any and all control if doing so would give me Ethan back. The barest image flickered into my mind, but before I could really grasp it and bring it into focus, I saw someone—a man—out of the corner of my eye. And it was
him.
The man I’d drawn with Chloe. Her ever after!

He strolled toward me, toward the exit, holding a take-out cup. My pulse sped up as I stared at him, trying to be sure. Was it really him? Light hair, chiseled cheekbones, strong jaw—oh yeah, definitely and without a doubt it was the same guy.

Should I say something? Try to get his phone number? His name? I didn’t know what to do. He was almost to me, and because there was no way in hell this opportunity was going to slip through my fingers, I jerked my legs off the chair, thinking I’d wave him over and maybe, just maybe, he’d sit down. The chair fell to the ground with a crash.

Chloe’s guy stopped in front of me, knelt down, and grabbed the chair. Setting it upright, he smiled—“There you go!”—and kept walking.

No.
I couldn’t let him just walk away! Shoving my phone into my purse, I jumped up and followed him out the door. I was about to yell at him to stop, when I had second thoughts. Miranda had said he wasn’t ready. That if I told Chloe about him now, I could change their future. What if, simply by talking to him, I’d still screw it up?

That thought gave me pause. Enough pause that, while I continued to follow, I did so at a distance. I mean, I had to think about this. Luckily, a good number of pedestrians roamed the street, so keeping him in sight without showing myself proved fairly easy. And he didn’t go far. At the end of the block, he stopped in front of a black-windowed office building and swiped a card into the locking mechanism at the door, letting himself in.

After he disappeared, I waited a few minutes and then rushed to the building. My gaze swept over the lettering on the door and excitement eased in. I smiled the first real smile I’d had in what felt like forever. Okay, then. I might not know his name, but I knew where the guy was employed. It looked like Chloe’s ever after was an architect, and seeing as how he had access to the building on a Saturday, probably a highly ranked architect, at that.

For the first time in two weeks, a hint of positive anticipation whisked over me. When the day came that I could finally share the drawing with Chloe, I’d at least be able to send her in the right direction. So she, unlike me, would know who her soul mate was right from the get-go.

Maybe my magic didn’t completely bite, after all.

Every part of me refused to relax. I’d taken a bubble bath, only to be reminded of Ethan and the night we had made love. Then I’d done a load of laundry, only to find his T-shirt, which I’d yet to wash, and that also reminded me of Ethan. Next, I’d flipped on the television, only to see a commercial for a local boating club’s upcoming regatta. Yep, you got it—memories of being with Ethan on his sailboat flew back at me.

Everywhere I looked, I saw him. And because of that, relaxing wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe when Chloe returned from her date with Kyle, she’d play a game with me. Or watch a DVD. Anything to pull my thoughts away from him, from what I’d lost, from what I still craved. Thank God she was still staying with me.

“Screw this,” I muttered. There had to be
something
I could do. Something to prove everything I felt. Because my love for Ethan? It was alive, bright, and so very real.

Grabbing my sketchbook, I reclined on my bed and flipped through all of the drawings again. There had to be a clue in there somewhere, if I just looked hard enough. Thirty minutes passed during which I mentally dissected each and every picture, pulling them apart in my mind and then putting them back together. My answer was here. I knew it. I just couldn’t find it.

Exasperation floated in. I dropped the sketchpad with a sigh. I wouldn’t figure anything out if I remained an emotional basket case. Maybe if I focused on something else, and put the whole soul mate thing on the back burner, my subconscious would work it out? It was worth a chance—hell, anything was worth the chance I was after—so I laid back against my pillows, closed my eyes, breathed evenly and emptied my brain of all thoughts, all worries.

The first face that popped up was Kyle’s. That ticked me off and nearly undid the whole calm thing I was going for. Not only because I’d already crossed him off the list, but because noway, nohow was it him. I knew that to the core of my being. I didn’t need to know
why;
I just knew. And I didn’t want him in my head, so I shoved him away.

Some more deep, even breaths: in, out, in, out. Chloe’s image came drifting in, and my love for her. And then Miranda. The thing that had bothered me the other day but I hadn’t paid attention to rolled in next. This time, I paid attention. You know, the weird fact that Chloe had been able to smell the roses, followed by what Miranda had said to her.

She needs you, and you need her.

Maybe? I mean, we did need each other…but coming from Miranda, well, it likely wasn’t that simple. And then, suddenly, I realized what it was. The rush of clarity propelled me forward and I jumped from the bed like a crazy person. Retrieving the drawing I’d shown Shelby from my purse, I unfolded and stared at it. Every single person on the page in front of me was a female somehow connected to me by blood. Family.

My
family.

Chloe had certainly seemed like family from almost the moment we’d met. But was I right? Adrenaline pumped through me. I searched each and every face, recognizing some but not all.
Damn it.
For a minute, I’d actually believed Chloe’s face would be there…hiding in the masses, somehow. And that would prove she
was
my family. For real.

She wasn’t.

I bit my lip, trying to bring back the rush of faces from the vision. Ha. That was so not going to happen. There were too many for me to remember clearly, and the real problem was I didn’t recall seeing Chloe in
that
jumble, either. No way had I gotten every face from that vision in the drawing, though I’d managed to get quite a few. I scanned the page again, taking it all in. Some were of babies, some of little girls, some as young women, and others as old. Making sense of it was nearly impossible.

The paper crinkled in my hand, I was squeezing it so tight. I almost let go, let it flutter to the ground, but I was so close, I could feel the truth of that spinning around inside of me. So instead I relaxed my grip and thought about my magic, about what I’d been able to do and what I hadn’t. What was it Miranda said? “The magic is changing,” I whispered. And while I had some ability with wishes, it was…

Wait.
Part
of it was seeing glimpses of the future. A little more of the puzzle clicked into place; my daughter kicked and shivers poured down my spine. Part was seeing the future. So, what was the other part? And then, as if I’d reached out and plucked an apple off of a tree, I had my answer. Or I thought I did.

The past. Could I use my magic to draw scenes and images from the past? Might as well try.

I turned to a clean page in the sketchbook, picked up my pencil, and said, “I wish to draw a picture of Chloe’s mother when she was a baby, and then as a little girl, and then as an adult.”

Bam. The magic flew into me, though without the sparkles of light or color; sheer energy whipped in, through my hands and into the pencil. I began to draw. These pictures came forth rapidly, even quicker than either of the wedding drawings had. Maybe because the past was done and over and therefore a definite fact?

I didn’t know. It made sense, but it didn’t matter.

My hand continued to draw, to shade, adding some detail here and a little there. Tingles of electricity sped through me as I worked, as I drew. I so wanted to compare what I was now drawing with what I’d already drawn, but didn’t want to turn my eyes away for fear I’d screw something up. So I stayed focused, kept drawing, and let the tide of magic do its thing.

When the pictures were finally complete, the trembles washed away, and there in front of me were three very clear images. Supposedly, each of them was Chloe’s mother at a different stage in her life. Of course I had no way of knowing this for sure, at least not until Chloe returned, because I’d never met Chloe’s mother. Heck, I’d never even seen a photograph of her.

With the original drawing in one hand and the sketchpad in the other, I compared each and every face with the three I’d just drawn. About halfway through the page, the wide-eyed grin of a little girl stared at me; and while she wasn’t an identical match to the little-girl version of Chloe’s mother, she certainly appeared to be the same child.

Oh. My. God. If I was right, then Chloe really was my family. Not Shelby.

A whoosh of air hit me, and Miranda appeared. No colors. No weird, chaotic energy, either. Apparently, my ghostly grandmother didn’t feel the need to impress me with her optical or sensory illusions this time. That was fine by me.

“I knew you were strong enough to find the answer on your own. It was necessary for you to do so, because in this case I’d already stepped out of bounds once. My hands were tied, so to speak.” Happiness edged her every word, and if ghosts could bounce, well…she bounced.

“So, this is all real? Chloe has been in my life for what feels like forever. How…how did that happen? And don’t tell me it was a coincidence!”

“No, Alice. It was fate.” She winked at me and I almost laughed. Since when did ghosts wink? “Well, let’s just say it was fate with a little nudge on my part.”