“I used to stop by without calling all the time,” I pointed out, wincing as Kelly Clarkson’s voice grew in strength.
“Uh-huh, before husband and baby. Now I have to resort to kidnapping to get any time with you.” She grinned.
“That’s not true! You’re busy…and, well—”
“Give it up, Chloe. Why has today been a ‘wild’ day?”
Make a wish, take a chance. Why wouldn’t my brain let go of that song? “Remember last year, before you and Ethan worked things out, how”—I searched for the correct word—“unusual everything seemed?”
“No, I’ve completely forgotten,” she said, deadpan. “Of course I remember. I didn’t know which way was up. It was a never-ending cocktail of vertigo and hormones.”
“Yeah. Exactly like that!”
My voice was louder than I planned, as if I were talking while wearing headphones, and Alice raised a finger to her lips. “I don’t want Rose to wake up.” Her gaze hit my stomach. “Oh wow, Chloe! Are you trying to tell me that you’re pregnant?”
“No! Why do people keep asking me that?” Oh. The hormones part. I wagged my head to the side, as if I had water in my ear. Works okay for water, not so much for evacuating a song. “I’m talking about the vertigo!” I yelled.
“Chloe, shhh! Have you been drinking or something?”
I lowered my voice. “Sorry. I meant the vertigo part.”
“Something’s happened?” she asked.
Not trusting myself to speak, I simply nodded.
“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”
I gestured that guessing was the way to go.
Wrinkles creased her forehead. “Hm, let me think. Has Miranda fi nally made an appearance?”
I shook my head.
“Has your magic started?”
Another shake.
Alice sat up a little straighter. “Has Kyle broken off the engagement?”
Even with the racket blasting in my head, her hope rang loud and clear. “Don’t sound so pleased.” I placed my hands on my ears, for some reason thinking that would drown out the noise. No dice, for obvious reasons. “Not that I know of! He’s not even in town right now.”
“Then, what? Are you having second thoughts?”
“No!” Too loud. I sighed. “Sort of, but I don’t want to.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” She leaned forward and cupped her chin in her hands. “Have you thought about why you’re having second thoughts?”
“Signs. A lot of them. And they keep coming.” Make a wish, take a chance.
“Like what?”
“Kelly Clarkson,” I blurted. “And my traitorous body becoming all turned on because of a stranger. Singing in my head. The radio refusing to turn off. And a business card!”
Flipping her fingers over her mouth, Alice tried to mask her grin. “As cute as Kelly Clarkson is, she isn’t the person in your drawing.” She winked. “But hey, I hear fantasies are healthy.”
While I appreciated her levity, the joke escaped me. “What are you talking about?”
“Not so quick on the draw today, are you? Think about what you just said,” she said with a straight face.
It took another few seconds before I got it, but once I did, all of my pent-up stress, worry and emotion burst out in choked laughter. Leave it to Alice to find a way to make me laugh when I felt as if the very ground had dropped out from beneath me. I smacked my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound, to no avail.
Alice tossed a concerned frown toward Rose, who thankfully still slept, and then rose to her feet. Grabbing my hands, she pulled me up. “Out of this room.”
I trailed after her to the kitchen and sheepishly took a seat at the table. “I’m sorry,” I wheezed. Then, miracle of all miracles, I was able to pull myself together. “Your fault. You shouldn’t have made me laugh.”
“Right, completely my fault.” She plopped a glass of water on the table before sitting down in the chair next to me. “Drink this. Your face is flushed.” I swallowed a large gulp and then, at her prodding, another. When I slid the glass away, she reached over and felt my forehead. “You’re a little warm. Are you ill?”
“Confused is the more appropriate term.”
Alice’s oh-no-my-best-friend’s-gone-off-the-deep-end look vanished. “Talk to me.”
“Maybe I should look at the picture. Just for informational purposes.”
Bam, the singing disappeared. It was oddly disorienting, as everything inside of my head, even my thoughts, seemed to vibrate from the sudden silence.
Alice raised an eyebrow. “Really? Why?”
“I’m curious.” Now, my head throbbed. “Can I see it?”
“Why the change of heart?”
“Does it matter?” I shot back.
“Not really, because I don’t have the drawing anymore. I ripped it up and threw the pieces in the garbage after your intervention the other night.”
Her matter-of-fact tone startled me, and for about half a second I believed her. Then I thought of the signs. “No, you didn’t. Just go get it for me, please.” No way would Alice destroy that picture. Even so, the mere possibility of the drawing not being in existence any longer brought goose bumps to my skin.
“Yes, I really did. I thought you wanted me to support your decision, to be happy for you. I couldn’t do that with that picture here, because every time I looked at it I wanted that future for you. So after talking things over with Elizabeth and Ethan, we decided on a course of action.”
I weighed her words, which made perfect sense, with everything I knew about her. Again, I shook my head. “I’m serious. It’s time for me to see it.”
Exasperation floated out of her in a loud sigh. “You can’t have it both ways, Chloe! Either you want to marry Kyle or you don’t. Either you believe in magic—fate—or you don’t. Either you want to see the picture or you don’t. You were very specific in your wishes the other night, and as your friend who was trying to do what you asked, I disposed of the drawing.” She crossed her arms. “So I could try to be happy for you.”
I should have been relieved, because without the drawing I’d never have proof, and that would make it far easier to continue along the path I’d started down. Instead, disappointment gathered in my throat. “You’re serious? But now—”
“Now what?” she demanded. “Tell me what’s happened to make you come here today.”
I nearly told her to forget it, but the thought barely entered my consciousness before Kelly began an encore performance. Apparently I was supposed to lay it all out for Alice—for better or for worse—so I did, as quickly and succinctly as possible.
When I finished, she grasped one of my hands. “It’s okay to be scared, but sweetie…you should also be excited! This is good. You can see that, can’t you?”
“I’m not sure. But I don’t see as if I have a choice.” I let go of her hand. “Everything’s getting all messed up.”
“Can I ask you something?” At my nod, she continued. “When I drew my picture, the one of me, Ethan and Rose, you didn’t have any trouble believing in that future. Why is it that now, when it’s your future my magic has shown, you can’t accept it?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But right now, that doesn’t matter. Now I need to see it, so if you really destroyed the drawing, you’re going to have to re create it.” I exhaled a long, slow breath. “Can you? And if not, then I guess you’ll have to go with me to deliver the pendulum to Ben, so you can see him for yourself. You’ll recognize the man from the picture again, right? Even though it’s been a while?”
Bolting from her chair, she raced out of the room. A few minutes later, she returned with a book in hand. Opening it, she pulled out a piece of folded paper, set the book on the counter and approached. “Here.”
“Ha! I knew you were lying.” The relief poured in that I’d wanted to feel earlier.
“I needed to be sure that you wouldn’t destroy the drawing the
second I gave it to you.” She held the paper in front of me. “So yeah, I lied. Sue me.”
Maybe I should have been angry with her, but I wasn’t. I understood her motives, and when push came to shove, she’d done what I’d asked. No reason to be upset. But as I stared at the paper, a tremor whisked along my skin. Was I sure about this? No, but my arm remained steady as I reached for the drawing. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
She handed it over. My fingers touched the heavy paper and my heart rate sped up. I held the page, trying to draw the strength I needed to open it. Knowing you should do something doesn’t necessarily make the doing itself any easier. Especially in these circumstances.
One quick breath, and I opened the first fold. Every single hair on my body stood up. The throbbing in my head increased. My stomach dipped. I felt a little like the way I had the one and only time I’d gone skydiving—that millisecond before the jump, when a rush of fear, excitement and adrenaline pushes through every nerve, every muscle of your body, and you have to force yourself to take the leap. To step out into the air and trust that your parachute will open when you need it to. It’s mindboggling. And scary as hell.
One fold to go. I sucked in another mouthful of air, let it back out and opened the page fully. My eyes were scratchy, almost irritated, so I couldn’t see anything of merit immediately. Just a bunch of lines blurring together. Tears fell, but I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t even want to. But they blurred my vision, so I wiped them away.
The trembles grew stronger and I shivered. I blinked rapidly, and for a brief, glowing second, the drawing came into perfect focus. My eyes rested on the image of me, and then, out of nowhere, a burst of bright light turned the room upside down and sent it spinning in dizzying circles. As cold as I’d been earlier, my body now surged with heat.
The fire continued to climb upward and then outward. My throat grew parched. I reached out, hoping to find the table, grasping for some type of stability. Nothing met my fingertips. The weight of my legs, arms, my entire body disappeared. Fear pummeled through me fast and furious.
Had I lost my mind, my grip on reality? Or was I in the process of dying from some freak accident? A heart attack, maybe, or a plane crashing into Alice’s house. Or hell, maybe an earthquake. All of these seemed like reasonable and perfectly possible, if ridiculously unusual, explanations.
Again I tried to find stability, something to center me, by clutching blindly for the table. The heat suddenly vanished, the swirling ceased, and limb by limb, the weight of my body returned to me. I blinked again, opened my mouth to ask Alice what the heck had just happened, except she wasn’t there. Neither was her kitchen. I now stood outside, and an arm rested on my waist while the sun warmed my shoulders. Some type of soft fabric—silk?—cascaded along my skin. Instead of the drawing in my left hand, I held a bouquet of flowers: vanda orchids, a glorious combination of purple and white, surrounded by a sea of lush greenery I couldn’t identify.
“Chloe! Smile for goodness sake. This is your wedding day,” an unknown male voice called out from in front of me. “Stand a little closer to your handsome groom.”
As if on autopilot, my body obeyed the commands. I tightened the gap between me and the unknown masculine form next to me. My lips stretched into a smile. I heard the whir of a camera.
“Good! Perfect!” the same man shouted.
What the stranger initially said finally penetrated through the thick smog that coated my brain. My groom? My wedding day? Had I somehow become a part of the drawing? I’d seen enough strange occurrences in my life to accept that as a reasonable explanation.
But wow. A rush of lightheadedness hit. My legs grew weak. I leaned farther to the right, using the solid, firm form of the man standing beside me to stay upright. His arm tightened around my waist, adding support, shoring me up. The camera made more whirring noises, and while I tried to tilt my head to look at my groom, I couldn’t. An unexplainable force held me still, and I could do nothing but stare straight ahead. Not a pleasurable feeling.
“We’re set for now. We’ll get some more shots at the reception,” the photographer said. “I think you’ll both be really pleased!”
Whatever vise had seized me suddenly evaporated, so I slowly tipped my head, intent on learning who stood beside me. Excitement, anticipation, fear, worry and a host of other emotions I didn’t bother trying to name swarmed my senses. I saw a black tux, a white shirt, a strong physique. Slanting my vision up another degree, a chiseled chin came into view, and then…Oh, God.
Ben Malone.
All the blood-pumping desire I’d experienced earlier came back in a flash. No surprise there. But when he angled his body toward me, dipped his chin so our eyes could meet…Well, that was when the real bombshell hit. This Chloe, the one in the drawing, loved this man with an intensity I’d never before felt. Bright. Strong. Everlasting. And that same love reflected back to me in the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. This Chloe—the girl who wasn’t yet me, but whom, if I played my cards right, I could potentially become—was loved. Truly, to the depths of her soul, loved.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
He smiled, bent over and pulled me against him. I closed my eyes, ready to finally experience the kiss I’d waited my entire life for. Would his lips be hard or soft? Would his mouth ravage mine, or would his kiss be slow and intoxicating? I wanted to know, and I wanted to know right that instant.
“Kiss me,” I said again.
“Chloe. Wake up, honey.” Alice’s voice seeped into my awareness first. Her hand, lightly slapping my cheek, came next. “Snap out of it.”
My eyelids were heavy, almost impossible to lift, but I heard the panic in her voice, so I forced them open. Her face was over mine, concerned. “Thank God! You scared the crap out of me. What happened?”
With her help, I pulled myself into a sitting position but stayed on the floor. The hollow ache I’d lived with for the better part of a year was back, only it was stronger, deeper, and hurt like the devil. “Where’s the drawing?” My voice came out in a thick rasp.
“You dropped it when you passed out. How are you feeling? Do you need to go to the doctor?”
“Give me the drawing, Alice. Please. I need to see it.”
She didn’t argue, just reached to the side to grab the paper. Handing it over, she asked again, “Honey? What happened?”
Please, please let me go back, I prayed, clasping the paper tightly. Just for a few more minutes. Just for the kiss. I stared at the image, not seeing the black and white sketch as it actually was, but in living color, smelling the scent of flowers in the air, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the feel of Ben’s arms around me. But nothing else happened. It was just a drawing, nothing more, nothing less.
“If you drew this, does that mean this is definitely my future?” I asked.
Rocking back on her heels, Alice frowned. “I wish I could answer that. I don’t know.”
“But what do you think?”
She bit her lip before responding. “I think, because my magic showed me this future, that this day is within your grasp. But I also think that the future is fluid, and that every choice we make can alter the outcome.”
“But it’s possible,” I whispered. “It can happen. It can become true. Like with you and Ethan.”
“Oh, sweetie, of course it’s possible!” A sigh shuddered out of her. “But I nearly screwed everything up with Ethan by almost making the wrong decision. Every time I think about what I could have lost…” She shook her head. “No. As happy as we are now, getting here wasn’t all that easy.”
My hand gripped the drawing tighter. Did it matter how difficult the process was if it resulted in what I’d just seen? What I’d just experienced? No. It didn’t. I wanted this more than I’d ever wanted anything else in my life.
Kyle flitted into my mind then, and while I didn’t have a ring on my finger, I felt the burden of it nonetheless, tying me to him. Tying me to our future.
“Come on, l
et’s get off the floor,” I said. We both crawled to stand and reclaimed our seats from earlier.
“What exactly took place here?” Alice asked for the third time.
I shook my head, trying to deny the words even as I spoke them. “I became a part of that picture, and that Chloe—the one you drew—is head over heels for a man who is not my fiancé.” Bringing my hand to my chest, I felt the thud of my heart, the steady beat of it somehow reassuring. “I fell, Alice. I fell hard. So what am I supposed to do now?”
Chapter Five
The following Wednesday I still hadn’t settled on an answer. Oh, I knew what I wanted to do, but I wasn’t entirely sure if want equaled right. I’d spent the last few days going about my business as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired, and other than Alice, no one had a clue that I was completely freaking out.
That “no one” most definitely included Kyle. He remained in Cincinnati on business, and as was his custom, he hadn’t called other than to let me know his plane had landed safely late Sunday afternoon. What wasn’t normal, and what I hadn’t been ready to confront, was that I hadn’t contacted him, either.
Arriving home, however, with less than two days before the scheduled delivery to Ben and only one before I saw Kyle, it was time to figure this out. After dropping my mail on the dining-room table, I headed for my bedroom and then quickly changed into a pair of loose pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Ignoring the nervous energy pumping through my blood, I knelt down in front of the antique mahogany armoire that had belonged to my parents. My fingers rubbed along the rich grain of the wood, my mind flashing back in time, seeing my mother hurriedly selecting clothes to pack. I was twelve and had watched her from across the room, upset that she and my father were going away on a weekend trip without me and Sheridan.
I hadn’t been nice to my mother. I’d called her selfish and stomped around in a huff, trying to get her to change her mind. Of course, she hadn’t. They’d left with a list of rules and contact numbers for the sitter, hugs and kisses for us and the promise that the three days would speed by. Instead, a rainstorm, flooded roads and a driver who lost control of his car made certain my parents never came home again. Shaking my head, I pushed away the pain.
A Breath of Magic Page 5