“These are fantastic!” Clarice said, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper. “Are they really for me?”
“Absolutely,” Rose said. “And they won’t fit your stepbrother even if he tries to use a wedge to get his feet into them. They will fit you and only you.”
Ray looked from the skates to Rose with awe. She winked at him, and he stiffened up at once. Poor Ray, trying so hard to keep that facade of toughness and control. Underneath it all was a good man. His insecurities made a hard barrier to cross. She guessed part of it was purely for survival purposes, but there were other things in life he needed to be open to. He’d learn. Only it took time.
Clarice yanked open the bottom drawer of one of the dressers and felt around in it. She came up with a pair of thick socks. Yanking off her thin sneakers, she tugged on the socks, and buckled the skates on over them. Rose nodded. Skating certainly was this girl’s hobby. She knew better than to wear boots over bare skin. Clarice lurched to her feet, clutching an upper bed frame. Ray jumped forward to steady her. Clarice looked six inches taller, and not all of it could be attributed to the height of the wheels. Rose regarded her critically.
“Clothes,” she said, forming an image in her mind’s eye. Cute little skating skirts were thirty years out of date. What this girl needed was something showy, but modest, to suit her personality. Yes, carry the color scheme throughout. The pink star rose in her hand almost of its own volition.
Clarice watched, her mouth open, as the pink light appeared in a ring around her be-skated feet and swirled upward, over shin, knee, thigh, hip. The magical tornado surrounded her upper body, then sailed onward through the ceiling. Clarice’s whole body quivered. She stared upward, watching the magic go, and Rose surveyed her handiwork. The girl’s long legs were now clad in royal purple stirrup pants. On top she wore a thin fuchsia sweater with white and purple tiger stripes swooping down from one shoulder to the opposite hip. Clarice looked down at herself and squeaked with glee.
“This outfit is a one-night rental,” Rose warned her. “Tomorrow, you’re on your own for duds.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Clarice exclaimed. She tottered to the mirror on top of the nearest dresser to look at herself, and her mouth dropped open. Rose had to admit the spell had been first-class.
A little magical hairdressing had combed the girl’s hair, puffing here, braiding there, and tucked in a little pink star over one ear. Clarice looked radiantly happy, a transformation from the depressed, withdrawn child she’d been when Rose and Ray walked in on her just a short time ago. Rose nodded to herself. A little self-confidence. That’s all it would take to bring out all Clarice’s natural beauty. That Dyland would be sorry he walked away from such a treasure.
Clarice turned around, radiant with joy. “Now what do I do?” she asked.
“Now? You go skating.” Rose felt in her purse. “Here’s five bucks,” she said, extending a bill to the girl. “The local roller rink is only about six blocks from here, isn’t it? You go down there and have yourself a wonderful time, all right? Those are magic skates. I promise you, you won’t fall on your can—not even once, and you’ll be able to dance, or race, or whatever daredevil thing it is kids do.” She raised a warning finger to still the girl’s rising enthusiasm. “But be home by midnight, or these things turn right back into those old, moldering cabbages. Got me?” Clarice nodded, speechless. “Now, go get your daddy’s permission to go, and you have a wonderful time, honey.”
“Yes, ma’am! Thank you, ma’am,” Clarice said, clutching the greenback like a lucky piece. Almost in a trance, she wandered out of the room.
“They won’t really turn back into cabbages, will they?” Raymond asked, wrinkling his nose.
Rose smiled at him and patted his arm. “No, but I’m not going to tell her that. She’ll need those skates. It’ll take more than one successful night of people making a fuss over her before she comes out of her shell and sees the good things in her family situation. She needs to be home in bed long before midnight. Her father’s a strong-minded churchgoer, and she’ll have to be up with the family in time for service.”
Raymond’s brows went down. He must think the old lady’s trying to sell him a load of clams again, Rose thought. Ah, well. And just when they were starting to make some progress in trust.
“How do you know this family goes to church?” he asked.
“I smell it,” she said, tapping the side of her nose with her forefinger. “Duty, piety, and faith are strong in this house. You start to pick these things up after a while.”
“What’s he going to say about her new outfit? He gonna think she stole it?”
“Hah! It’s just clothes. He won’t notice.” Of that Rose was certain.
Raymond had just one more question. “How do you know this will turn her around?”
“This is her miracle,” Rose said. “You’ll see.”
O O O
Clarice flew past them on the long side of the big oval rink, her cheeks glowing. She glanced back over her shoulder, and let out a playful shriek as two tall teenage boys bore down on her. She tried to pick up speed by swinging her arms. The teenagers bent lower, pumping their powerful arms and thighs to catch up, then overtake her. Each of them grabbed one hand and pulled her out into the center of the floor, spinning her in circles, shouting to her all the while. Ray couldn’t hear what they were saying over the loud music, but he could tell the girl was having a wonderful time. She pulled away from them, and skated a coy backward figure, leaning back and forth to propel herself in a serpentine line without moving her feet. The boys pushed off to follow, staying on either side of her. They made their way through the clusters of other skaters to the edge of the rink. One of the youths felt in his pocket for some money, and sent the other clomping up out of the rink toward the refreshment stand. Once his friend was out of the way, he moved to stand in front of Clarice, blocking her view of the rink, commanding her whole attention, talking animatedly and staring warmly into her eyes. Clarice was happy. Ray could feel her joy, like warm sunlight, lighting up the whole rink. He smiled, riding a kind of contact high of bliss.
“So she’s no Kristi Yamaguchi. But what do you think?” Rose whispered up to him.
“All right, grandma,” he said grudgingly, glancing down at her. “Not bad. But we could’ve bought her clothes and skates for the same reaction.”
“Not at all,” Rose said. “Part of it’s the psychology. Magic breaks down barriers. If we’d just given her the goods without the spark, she’d have sat over there in the stands without once looking up. This way, she’s the life of the party. They’re coming to her.”
Ray observed the second boy coming back with a tray of cups. The teenager noticed that his friend was monopolizing the pretty girl, and edged in front of him with the refreshments. A friendly scuffle ensued where each teen tried to put himself ahead of his friend to be the sole object of the girl’s attention. Ray saw Clarice’s eyes dancing. He felt himself grinning, sharing the girl’s joy.
“I want to try it,” he told Rose. “I want to make a child smile like that. Let me do the next one?”
“Whatever you say, honey,” Rose said, patting his arm. “Let’s see how you shape up on your own.”
Chapter 5
“I’ve never heard of a fairy godfather.”
The boy, an eight-year-old white kid with freckles and blue eyes, crossed his arms and stuck out his jaw stubbornly.
“Get used to it, kid,” Ray said, a little annoyed. “Because that’s who I am.” This wasn’t how he pictured things going. He was going to walk in, find out the kid’s dearest wish, wave the wand, and make it all better. He felt plenty frustrated. Maybe it looked easy when Rose did it because she had so much experience. He’d felt pretty good when they picked up on the next need string, and he had even led the way through the wall. They’d popped in on Matthew here just as they had on Clarice. Ray had expected shock, disbelief, even fear, but not defiance.
“Do you believe
in fairy godmothers?” Rose asked Matthew. She was standing back in the corner out of the way. She said she wanted to let Ray do as much as he could on his own, but he needed a start. He was stumped.
“Maybe,” Matthew admitted.
“Do you believe in women’s liberation?” Rose pressed. “Where a woman with the same ability can do any job a man can?”
“Yeah, of course.” Matthew was scornful. “Anybody with a brain …” he began, then stopped when he realized he was sassing grown-up strangers who had just walked into his house without using a door. Ray had by now figured out where Rose was going, and hunkered down beside Matthew. He put a hand on the boy’s arm.
“So why can’t a guy do what women have done for centuries? Centuries—am I right, Mrs. Feinstein?” he asked Rose over his shoulder.
“You certainly are, Mr. Crandall,” Rose said, a twinkle in her eyes.
“Oh,” Matthew said, opening his eyes wide. He relaxed at once. Ray was going to have to remember that chain of logic for the next time somebody questioned one of his gender performing a traditionally female task. The boy didn’t seem to have any trouble with his race, which meant he’d been raised right.
“So what can I do for you?” Ray asked. The boy’s hurting was so tangible around him Ray ached, too.
“Nothing,” Matthew said.
“I can do nothing really well,” Ray said, “but that doesn’t take magic. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need me. That’s the way it works.”
“Mr. Crandall,” Matthew began.
“Ray,” he corrected the boy quickly. “You don’t need to be formal. Between you and me, it just makes me uncomfortable.”
Matthew grinned, showing a half-grown bicuspid in the top of his mouth. “You’re nice,” he said.
I’m scared, Ray thought, but he replied, “I’m here to help. Why are you feeling so sad?”
“My dad went away.” Matthew turned his head to look out the window. “He said he’d be back for my birthday. That’s tomorrow. I’m gonna be eight.”
“What’s your dad do?”
“He’s a salesman for Henkeltech. An international rep.”
“The telephone people?” Rose asked, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead.
“Yeah,” Matthew said. Ray looked around at the apartment. In comparison to Clarice’s, or even his own family’s place, it looked wealthy. The ambience was one of quiet well-to-do. The furniture wasn’t flashy, but told you by the glow of the wood and the warm depth of the color of the upholstery that it cost money. Those three cabinets against the wall near the door of the living room might have been antiques or copies of antiques. The combination telephone/answering machine on the bowlegged table was a top-of-the-line unit. Even though it was cool in the room, no unit air conditioners were in the windows. Dad had retrofitted central air into this big old house.
“He must be very good at his job,” Rose said, voicing Ray’s conclusion.
“I guess,” Matthew said, his eyes big and sad. “But he’s never home. This time he promised. This time, he swore he’d be here. I thought he meant it.” The boy plumped himself down on a raspberry red leather sofa that Ray had adored the second he saw it. It must have cost six grand, but the little boy in the middle of it was oblivious to its value or beauty. Ray thought that it was less that Matthew took such nice things for granted than he really thought having his father around meant more. For a second he was glad his own father had the kind of job that meant he came back every night. This kid didn’t have a home; he had a nice box to park in until his parents had time for him. “He called to say he couldn’t come back in time. His boss wants him to stay another week!”
“Where’d he go this time?” Ray asked, sitting down beside Matthew.
“Argentina. He’s helping them set up their new digital phone network.”
“Very important work,” Rose said, giving Ray an encouraging nod.
“He always sends me nice presents,” Matthew said, hunching his shoulders. “That’s okay. But I wish he was here instead.” Through the wand, Raymond felt the hurt pangs start again. The father had broken his word too many times. Matthew was about to give up on trusting his dad forever. That would be wrong. It shouldn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen if he could help it. He turned to look straight into Rose’s eyes and she nodded significantly. So this was it. He had to bring Matthew’s father home in time for his birthday, to keep that all-important promise. But how?
“Will you excuse me a second?” Ray asked, getting up. He took Rose by the arm, and led her across the room, out of earshot. Matthew looked at them curiously. Rose smiled and waggled her fingers at him.
“What do I do?” Ray muttered under his breath. “Do I beam the dad back, like on Star Trek, or something?”
“No, of course not,” Rose whispered back. “Free will is very important when you’re dealing with people instead of things. If it was just another pair of roller skates, Matthew would have them this instant. But a human being must be given the opportunity. You have to form the wish so that it becomes possible for his father to come home. And he has to want to, too.”
Ray whistled. “That’s a tough one. What if he doesn’t?”
“That’s where we might fail,” Rose said. “We don’t want that, of course. Matthew?” she asked, raising her voice. “Where’s your mother?”
“She’s out with her friends,” Matthew said, dejectedly. “I wish she’d’ve been here with me when Dad called.”
“When’s she coming home?”
“I dunno.” Matthew looked at the clock. “Not until about ten, I guess.”
“Good!”
“Why?” Ray asked.
“Because this could take some time,” Rose said.
“What are we going to do?”
“No,” Rose said, poking him in the chest with her forefinger. “What are you going to do?” She pulled him over to Matthew. “Ray is going to grant your wish. He is going to make it possible for your father to be here tomorrow.”
“He is?” Matthew’s face lit up, and he sprang to his feet to give Ray a hug.
“I am?” Ray squawked, then repeated, in a confident tone that he hoped didn’t sound forced, “I am.”
“Yes,” Rose said. “But Matthew, you have to understand there’s one condition to this wish: your father has to want to come home. It’s the only part we can’t do by magic. Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes, he wants to,” Matthew said, his eyes puppylike with hope. “Really! Please, Ray. Bring him home!”
“Okay,” Ray said. “I’m going to do it.” He held out the little training wand. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. How had Rose handled the process with Clarice? He’d been more intent on watching the girl’s face than seeing how to make the magic. He looked at Rose helplessly. The senior godmother understood without having to have the problem spelled out to her. She took Matthew by the shoulders and sat him down on the couch with her.
“I’m going to tell you exactly what Raymond is doing while he’s doing it,” she said conversationally, to Ray’s great relief. “This is the best part of being a fairy godmother, which is when we help you make your wish come true.”
“Wow!” Matthew said, his eyes wide.
“You want to make certain everything is laid out correctly in your mind,” Rose told them. Ray placed himself a few feet away, facing them. “Close your eyes and concentrate. Think. See the right thing happening, in as much detail as you possibly can.” Ray obeyed, shutting his eyes and making the picture in his mind of Matthew sitting at a table with a big birthday cake and his mother and father on either side of him as he blew out the candles. “Remember, there’s no good magic and no bad magic.” Ray opened his eyes in surprise and stared at Rose. Matthew had turned his astonished gaze on her, too.
“What?” they asked in unison.
“Oh, well, there’s no smart magic, either,” Rose explained. “It’s formless. You have to tell magic exactly what it is you want it to do. Ray wil
l state the wish as if he was making it on a star.” She pointed to the tip of the wand. “Here’s the star. He thinks, then he speaks. He doesn’t have to say it out loud, but Ray, wouldn’t it be nice if we heard it, so Matthew knows what you’re doing for him?”
“Yeah. Sure,” Ray said uncertainly. “Uh, tell him how I keep a bad wish from coming true?”
“Intention is everything,” Rose said, and turned to the boy. “You see, Matthew, he doesn’t wave the wand until he’s sure he has it right. Got it?” She took a quick peek toward Ray, who nodded nervously. He felt sweat running down the back of his neck. “Good. Now, he’ll do it.”
Okay, Ray thought. Dad, boss, make a change of plans, substitute, air ticket, taxi, on-time connections, arrival, birthday! He pointed the wand straight at Matthew, then whirled it in a big circle as if stirring a huge pot.
“This wish is for Matthew,” he said. His voice sounded small and uncertain. He cleared his throat. “I wish that Matthew’s dad will be able to come home for Matthew’s birthday tomorrow, with no bad things happening to anyone else. Just a change of plans, and he gets all the tickets he needs. Uh, if he wants to come of his own free will,” he added at the last moment, “he’ll be here on time.” Matthew sat with a rigid spine, clutching Rose’s hand, as Ray stirred the wand one more time.
He felt a force rushing through his whole body, speeding toward his right hand, gathering into a mass around the wand. Then pale blue light shot with silver flowed out of the tiny star, forming a cylinder on the floor of the apartment. Small images seemed to flash by, floating on the invisible surface, seen, and then unseen. He heard tiny voices, the far-off sounds of telephone connections, the roar of a jet engine, and little, bitty voices singing the last line of “Happy Birthday to You.” When Ray was sure he’d shaken his whole string of instructions into the magic, he stilled his hand. The cylinder skittered away from him across the floor like a rampant tornado. Ray ran after it, wondering if he had done something wrong. The magic framework stopped only fifteen feet away, centering itself around a bowlegged telephone table near the living room door. Ray cartwheeled to a halt beside it, watching it spin more images and sounds, cotton candy-like, along its inner surface. The cylinder narrowed swiftly in diameter until it was the width of a drinking straw, then spiraled along down the phone cord and sank straight into the wall. All the noises and sounds died away as if they had swirled into a magical drain. Ray stared at the place where the cord connected to the wall, almost expecting to see smoke rise from it. He felt exhausted and exhilarated.
The Magic Touch Page 5