Gettin’ Merry

by CATHY L. CLAMP; FRANCIS RAY; BEVERLY JENKINS; MONICA JACKSON; GERI GUILLAUME

  “Your wish has come true, Nicholas,” Augusta told him.

  A whimper of pain came from Andrea. She closed her eyes. She’d lost him.

  Nicholas grabbed both of Andrea’s arms. Black eyes blazed. “Did you know?” he shouted.

  “Know what?” she questioned, frowning.

  His mouth tightened into a thin line before he said, “That you’re my wish woman.”

  Chapter 9

  “I can’t be,” Andrea said, regret in her voice. She looked at her aunt. “Tell him.”

  “Perhaps we should go inside and discuss this,” Augusta said calmly.

  “We’ll discuss it now.” Nicholas stepped away from Andrea. “All I want to know is were you in on this? Did you know?”

  Andrea glanced from her aunt to Nicholas, the enormity of what was going on finally sinking in. She was to be Nicholas’s. She swayed. Nicholas reached out to steady her, but when she reached toward him, he stepped back. His cold gaze sliced through her.

  “I didn’t know.” She spoke to her aunt: “Is . . . is it true?”

  Augusta smiled. “Didn’t I tell you what will be will be?”

  Andrea shook her head. “I . . . I thought you meant his wish.”

  Her aunt laid her hand gently on Andrea’s arm. “And your unspoken wish. When the dream came to me of you and Nicholas together, I wept with happiness. After all these years of having the gift, I’d finally be able to bring happiness to a member of my own family.”

  The women hugged each other. “Oh, Auntie! I can’t believe it.” Smiling, Andrea turned to Nicholas. His face remained cold. Then she remembered he didn’t believe in love, didn’t want it. Tears sparkled in her eyes.

  “Ma’am, you really pulled one over on me,” he said tightly. “I was a fool not to realize that you’d never condone Andrea going out with me if you thought there was another woman out there for me. But your little plan failed.”

  Augusta silently studied him for a long moment. “You mean you don’t care about my niece? That you wouldn’t do anything to keep her from the slightest harm? That you wouldn’t put her needs before your own?”

  Nicholas’s eyes widened. Her words were too close to things he’d thought and felt. “You keep forgetting. I wished for my brother, not me.”

  “Then,” she said with a nod. “But how about when you were growing up? When you were a little boy in Akron? Before your friends started having marital problems?” she asked.

  He ignored the chill that raced over him, refusing to believe. Andrea had told Augusta he was from Akron. She just had a lucky guess about the rest. “I’m leaving.”

  Augusta wasn’t finished with him. “Once a wish is granted, I’m not allowed to interfere. But I should tell you that if you keep on running from the truth and refusing to believe, it may be taken away from you.”

  Andrea gasped. Nicholas’s knees almost buckled. “Nothing will happen to Andrea.”

  Augusta shook her head. “Andrea will find happiness. If not with you, then with another. Is that what you want?”

  For Nicholas, even the wind stopped blowing. It was as if nature and time stood still, listening, waiting for him to speak. He wanted to scoff at Augusta’s words but couldn’t. Neither could he look at Andrea. Just the thought of any man touching her enraged him, but there was no such thing as a person being able to grant wishes or see the future. Turning, he walked away.

  Behind him, Andrea wept in her aunt’s arms. “Auntie, what am I going to do? I love him so.”

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do. Nicholas has to decide.”

  Brushing away tears, Andrea lifted her head. “What if he can’t?”

  “He’ll lose and so, my precious darling, will you.”

  The hospital’s grapevine was running true to form. Less than two days after Nicholas stopped seeing Andrea, his name was back on the wish list. But women weren’t chasing after him as they had before. In fact, people in general left him alone. That was fine with him. He needed to get things in shape before he went to Philadelphia for the holidays. There was nothing to keep him in Jubilee. He was flying out early Christmas morning. But first he had to at-tend the Christmas Eve party at the hospital.

  Straightening his tie, he jerked his jacket from the bed and headed out the door, reminding himself that he needed to ask the housekeeper to take down the tree. It wasn’t cowardly not to do it himself; he simply didn’t have time.

  “Are you just going to give up?” Elaine asked, sitting beside Andrea in the middle of her living room floor.

  “If he’s what you want, go after him. Or I could beat him up for you,” Travis offered.

  “I’ll help,” said Clint.

  “Me, too,” agreed John.

  Andrea blinked away the tears that were never far since Nicholas had walked out of her life. “I told you, he has to make the decision on his own.”

  “Pleeazze.” Elaine waved her slender manicured hand. “Since when has a man been able to come to a decision without the help of a woman?”

  Her comment garnered the expected howls of disagreement from the men. Travis was the loudest. “Since when has a woman been able to come to a decision, period?”

  He and Elaine went nose to nose, then lip to lip. Elaine slipped her arm around his neck and deepened the kiss.

  Andrea sniffed. She couldn’t be happier for her friends. Tears rolled down her cheek.

  “Stop that! You’re making Andrea cry,” Clint said, snatching a tissue from the box on the coffee table.

  “I’m sorry,” Andrea said. “Don’t mind me.”

  “You want us to go and beat him up?” John asked.

  “I don’t think that would help, fellas.” Elaine sat down beside her again. “You really love him, don’t you?”

  “More than I ever thought possible.”

  “Then why are you sitting here?” Coming to her feet, Elaine pulled Andrea up. “When we get through with you, Nick will be drooling.”

  “But will he accept his wish?”

  “There’s a sure way to find out.”

  The Bluebonnet Ballroom of the hotel was jumping. People in the medical profession worked hard and partied harder. They, better than most, knew how fragile life could be. The only person not having a good time was Nicholas. Arms folded, he sat in the back of the festive room in gold and white. Unlike the many people on the parquet dance floor doing the Electric Slide, the live music of the band didn’t move him at all.

  He’d planned on putting in an obligatory appearance, then leaving. Beverly Hawkins had insisted he stay. He was fully prepared to ignore her request until her husband and the other board members started talking about it being good for morale. He’d give it another five minutes; then he was—

  His arms unfolded. He was unaware of coming to his feet.

  Andrea stared hungrily at Nicholas, but when she started toward him he sat back down. Her hands clenched inside the deep burgundy velvet cloak that matched her long dress. He looked as miserable as she felt. “I never wanted him to be unhappy.”

  None of her friends said anything, just stepped closer, giving her moral and emotional support. Andrea didn’t notice them or that she and Nicholas had become the center of attention. If his caring for her made him that unhappy, she didn’t want it for him.

  She went to the table where Delores, Eula, and Rachel were selling wish tickets. “May I buy one?”

  “I’m sorry, Andrea, but it’s for hospital employees only,” Delores said, her regret obvious.

  “Can’t an exception be made?” Elaine asked. “This is important to her.”

  Beverly Hawkins strolled up to the table, bringing her husband with her. “I’d like to purchase some tickets. How many do you think I’ll need, Andrea?”

  “I have to buy them myself,” she said.

  “Sell her the tickets,” Bob Hawkins said. “After what she did for the children, I can’t see anyone objecting. But if they do, send them to me.”

  “Yes, sir. How ma
ny?” Delores picked up the pad of printed tickets.

  “All of them,” Andrea said. “I intend to win.”

  Nicholas had tried to act as if he didn’t care that Andrea was there, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. When she’d stopped at the table where the women were selling the wish registration tickets, he couldn’t quite believe it. Andrea hadn’t made a wish since her parents died.

  He knew that with bone-chilling certainty. Then what was she wishing for? Me. He came out of his chair to cross the room. People parted. All except her friends. “Move out of the way.”

  “It’s all right.” Andrea turned the pad she’d been writing on over.

  Nicholas glanced at the back of the pad, then at her. “It won’t do you any good. Even if they pull my name, I don’t believe in wishes.”

  “I know, but you’ll be free.” Getting up, she went to the table and gave Delores the tickets. She didn’t even glance at him as she went to the other side of the room. Her friends gathered around her.

  Nicholas heard the drumroll, then a call for silence. He stared at Andrea and felt unease scuttle down his spine. Out of nowhere he heard Mrs. Augusta’s voice: If you keep on running from the truth, refusing to believe, it may be taken away from you.

  That was nonsense. A person couldn’t grant wishes.

  “This is the moment we’ve all waited for.” Delores spun the metal drum. “The winning ticket will receive half of the money made through sales to make their wish come true, and the remaining half will go to charity. Good luck.” She stopped the tumble of papers. “Mr. Hawkins will draw.”

  Bob Hawkins reached inside. Nicholas watched tears roll down Andrea’s cheek, saw her mouth, Good-bye. It clicked all at once. She hadn’t tried to trap him. Her wish had been to set him free.

  Even as Nicholas shook his head in denial, he heard Bob Hawkins speak: “Well, I’ll be. The winning ticket belongs to Nicholas Darling.”

  The more she swiped, the more tears fell. Nicholas was lost to her forever. Curled up on the sofa, she didn’t move when she heard an impatient knock on the front door. “Please tell them I just want to be alone.” As soon as Elaine had stopped her parents’ car, Andrea had gotten out and forbidden them to follow. It had started to snow and she didn’t want them on the roads.

  “Andrea.”

  Her head came up. Nicholas stood in the doorway, snowflakes sprinkled over his black topcoat. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. It took me a long time, but I love you. I love you.”

  She leaped from the couch. He caught her, lifting her against his wide chest. “I love you. I love you,” he repeated over and over.

  “But what did you wish for?” she asked.

  He drew the winning ticket out of his pocket and handed it to her. “That you’d be able to stay in Jubilee, and that you’d find a man who’d love you through all time.”

  Her eyes misted again, this time with happiness. “Nicholas.”

  He drew her into his arms again. “I bought the ticket on impulse after we started going out. I admired you so and wanted you to be happy, even if I wasn’t that man.”

  She grinned up at him. “Did you really?”

  “Yes . . . after I broke him into little pieces.”

  She kissed him. “My hero.”

  “Finally. Like Braxton, I learned no risk is too great to keep the woman you love by your side. We’ll have our happily ever after. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, oh, yes.”

  In the hallway, Augusta smiled, remembering the dream she’d had the night before. Nicholas and Andrea were decorating their Christmas tree in this very house with the added tradition of snowflake ornaments while their four happy children helped.

  On the coffee table were several published books by Andrea. Among them was a hardcover copy of A Risk Worth Taking. Nicholas and Andrea had taken a risk and had been rewarded with a lifetime of happiness.

  And it had all started with a wish.

  Homecoming

  BY BEVERLY JENKINS

  Chapter 1

  Detroit, Michigan

  December 1883

  The December afternoon was so cold and windy that by the time Lydia Cooper made it up the steps to the boardinghouse where she planned to spend the night, she was freezing inside her thick wool cloak. The train ride from Chicago to Detroit had been exhausting. Due to the snowy weather, all of the scheduled stops had been late. To make matters worse, she and the rest of the passengers had ridden the long stretch from Kalamazoo to the Detroit depot being tortured by the ear-piercing screams of a howling infant. Setting aside her personal woes for now, Lydia gave the hack driver a tip for bringing her trunks to the boardinghouse’s porch. He departed with a smile and a touch of his hat.

  In answer to Lydia’s knock upon the door, a tiny elderly woman appeared. The warm smile on her aged brown face made Lydia feel instantly welcomed.

  “Good afternoon,” Lydia said. “The driver said you let rooms?”

  “I do, miss.” The woman stepped back and beckoned. “Come in out of that wind. You look like you’ve come a long way.”

  Lydia brought in her trunks, and the woman closed the door. The shivering Lydia glanced around the front room with its well-worn furniture and replied, “I have. From Chicago.”

  “That is a piece,” the woman remarked. “How long you staying?”

  “Just the night. I’m going on to Sumpter in the morning.”

  “Is that home?”

  Lydia took off her gloves, then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, my name’s Shirley Harrison.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Harrison. I’m Lydia Cooper.”

  “Pleased to have you.”

  Mrs. Harrison led Lydia up a short flight of stairs, then down a short hallway. Lydia wondered if the two rooms they passed held other boarders, but her curiosity fled when Mrs. Harrison ushered her into the room on the end. Inside, Mrs. Harrison opened the plain brown drapes on the lone window. The last pale light of the late December afternoon filtered in. The room was sparsely furnished but clean. The space held a bed with a flowered quilt. Beneath the window were a chair and a slightly lopsided writing desk. A large armoire made up the last of the furnishings.

  Mrs. Harrison asked, “Will this do you?”

  Lydia could already feel herself starting to relax. “Yes, it will. How much?”

  “Thirty cents if you want dinner tonight, too.”

  “I do.” Lydia fished around in her handbag for her coin purse, then handed over what she owed.

  Mrs. Harrison walked to the door. “Dinner’s at seven. Bathing room’s down the hall. You want me to heat you some water for a bath?”

  “That would be a blessing.”

  Mrs. Harrison nodded, pleased. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” Then she was gone, closing the door behind her.

  Lydia dropped tiredly onto the bed. It had been a long, long day. Had she the strength, she would have just gone on to her small hometown of Sumpter, but she couldn’t see traveling another thirty miles, not tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Christmas was in a little over a week, and for the first time in four years she’d be spending the holy time with her mother, Miriam. Lydia was the headmistress of a private school for young women of color, and she was usually obliged to spend the holidays at school in order to chaperon the two or three young women without families or to cheer up the girls with parents who were traveling or too busy to include them in their lives. This year, however, she had made arrangements far in advance for a few of the local families to take in the girls needing sheltering. Miriam had recently broken her ankle. Her letters assured Lydia that it was nothing serious, but Lydia needed to see that with her own eyes. She and her mother had been through a lot over the years, and Lydia wanted Miriam to remain a force in her life for as long as the Good Lord was willing. Lydia had also come home to lick her wounds. Her engagement to Burton Shaw had ended abruptly six months ago and she hoped this short visit home would revive her lag
ging spirits.

  Lydia undid the ribbon tie at the throat of her cloak and set the damp garment over the back of the lone chair. Her first order of business would be to start a fire in the grate. The December chill had invaded the room. Blowing on her cold hands, Lydia grabbed two logs from the box beside the fireplace and set them inside. A few strikes of the matches started a small blaze. It began to lick its way over the wood, and soon the flames grew in strength. Satisfied, she went to her trunks to unpack some clean clothes for dinner.

  Once Lydia had her bath, her world seemed brighter. She donned a fresh high-collared brown dress, brushed her hair and redid her bun, then went downstairs to see about the meal. She had no idea if there were other boarders about but assumed that if there were, they’d all be dining together, as was customary in such establishments.

  She was just about to enter the small dining room when the sight of the tall dark-skinned man standing near the table talking with Mrs. Harrison froze Lydia in place. For a moment the shock of seeing Grayson Dane again after so many years was so overwhelming, her knees went weak.

  What is he doing here?

  Although she hadn’t seen him in fifteen years, there was no mistaking him. The fabled good looks had aged like a statue—gracefully, majestically. He had a mustache now, something he hadn’t had when she knew him before, and it added a dangerous edge to his chiseled features. The fit of the well-tailored dark suit showed him to be a bit thicker through the chest and shoulders than he’d been as a youth, but because of his height it made him appear even more commanding. Memories of her love for him rushed back with such sweet pain, she lost herself in its eddies for a moment. Lydia knew the wisest course would be to beat a hasty retreat back to her room before he noticed her, but the thought came too late; he’d turned her way.

  Gray Dane stared at the woman in the brown dress standing in the doorway, and her familiar face caused his eyes to widen with shock. Lydia? His breath caught in his chest and his hands began to shake. Lydia Cooper? My God! Where did she come from?