“Very good, Ray!” Rose congratulated him. “Very nice.”
“What happens now?” Matthew asked timidly. All the cynicism with which he had greeted them was gone. He was a humble, slightly scared little boy in the presence of a fabulous force he could not understand. Ray knew exactly how he felt. He was pretty well in awe of what had just happened, and he had done it.
“Now? We wait for a phone call. That seems to be the way that Ray made the spell work. Sit down, Ray,” Rose said, patting the couch on her other side. “You look a little dazed. Magic can be a little hard on people, Matthew.”
Ray tottered over and sank onto the spot she indicated. He rested his hands between his knees. His wand hand tingled. The sensation was like the goodness, but so much stronger. There must have been other forces in there, too: more direct, active forces that took his intentions and transformed them into energy that ought to be making reality happen. If he had done everything right.
“That was really cool. I bet you do this a lot,” Matthew said to him. “You have a lot of … fairy godchildren, huh? Lots of kids you’ve helped.”
Ray sat forward, his elbows on his knees, and looked him directly in the eye.
“To tell you the truth, I’m new at this,” he said frankly. “This is my first day. And you’re my first, uh, godchild.”
Matthew’s eyes widened. They studied Ray, then turned to follow the path of the magic tornado all the way to the telephone cord, trying to balance out superhero-power-movie-magic with the first try ever. Ray admitted it was hard for him to reconcile, too.
“Wow!” Matthew said at last.
“So that makes you special,” Ray said.
“It was special. I’ll never forget it,” Matthew said solemnly. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Even if it doesn’t work.”
“It’ll work,” Rose said confidently.
The three of them waited there on the couch, staring at the telephone across the room. Several times, Rose tried to draw them into conversation. Matthew and Ray might offer one statement apiece. Then silence would fall again. Matthew was hoping with every bone in his body. He had his fists clenched on his knees. Ray could just see that his first and second fingers were crossed.
The telephone rang suddenly into the silence. Matthew sprang up and ran across to answer it. Ray trembled with anticipation. He watched the boy’s intense face as he grabbed the receiver out of the cradle.
“Hello?” Matthew said. All of his taut muscles went slack, and his shoulders drooped. “No, I’m sorry. Mom can’t come to the phone right now. I’ll take a message.” He felt around in the drawer of the telephone table and came up with a yellow crayon. He scribbled a message on the corner of a much-used paper blotter. “I got it. Good-bye.”
“Hmmph!” Rose said brightly. “Just a false alarm. I told you it would take time.”
Ray became more nervous as they waited. Fifteen minutes crept by. Twenty, Matthew’s clenched knuckles turned white and stayed that way. Rose broke the silence again.
“Well, we can’t just stare at the wall. Do you play Crazy Eights, Matthew?”
Matthew leaped up as if someone had lit a fire under his tail.
“Yes, ma’am!” he shouted. After all, he was just an eight-year-old boy.
“Don’t yell! Can you find us a deck of cards?” she asked.
Matthew searched through the telephone table, then went through the drawers of a highboy and a wooden sideboard. He turned up a number of interesting oddments that he put in his pocket, but no cards.
“I think I have a deck of cards in my room,” he said, with an apologetic glance. “I’ll get them.”
He started out of the room, when the phone rang again. The boy windmilled in a circle and scrambled back to it.
“Hello?” he shouted into the receiver. Ray tensed down in his seat on the couch. His fingers were crossed now. But this time the boy’s face lit up. “Hi, Dad!” Matthew said. “No, Mom’s not home.…”
Ray and Rose waited. Ray clenched his fist on his knee. Rose took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it hard.
“This is it,” she whispered.
“… You are? I mean”—Matthew lifted amazed eyes to the fairy godparents on the couch—“how? You said this afternoon … oh, they did? That’s terrific! Yeah, of course I want you to be there. Don’t be stupid.… I’m sorry. Yeah! Oh, wow, Dad!” He hung up the phone and turned a beaming face to Ray. “You did it! He’s coming home! His boss wants one of the other sales reps to handle the negotiations. He says Dad has to handle a more important client up here! He’s leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes! Wheeee-hooo!” Matthew danced around in a circle.
Ray, relieved and delighted, couldn’t sit still a second longer. He joined the joyful war dance. He caught the boy up under the arms and threw him into the air. Matthew laughed, and pounded Ray on the shoulders.
“He said he wanted to come. He felt really bad!” Matthew said, kicking loose from Ray’s grip to run over to Rose.
“I’m—certain he did,” Rose said, giving the boy a hug. “Happy birthday, Matthew. Now we know it will be happy.”
“Oh, thank you,” the boy said. He gave her a light hug, then went back to Ray. He stopped a pace away, looking up with a kind of awe on his face.
“You’re really great,” he said. “You did perfect. I can’t believe this is the first time you ever made a wish come true!”
Ray held out his hands helplessly. He couldn’t even tell the boy about the goodness and the way the magic gathered within him, and how now he shared the joy Matthew felt.
“It was,” he said simply.
“It all worked out so well,” Rose said. “But now, you know, we really have to go.”
“Oh,” Matthew said, the sunshine in his eyes dimming a little. He gazed woefully at Ray. “You won’t forget me, will you?”
“Nope,” Ray said, patting him on the shoulder. “You are my first fairy godchild, and you’ll always be important.” He drew an X on his chest with his wand. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Matthew grinned at him. “Come back sometime,” he said. “I want you to meet my folks. They’re really great, even if they are busy. I’m gonna have a birthday party!” he yelled. He was dancing around in a happy circle as Ray and Rose slipped away through the wall.
O O O
“That was very good for your first try!” Rose took Ray’s hand and beamed up at him as they emerged into the warm, damp air of the night. “I agree with Matthew. It’s hard to believe you haven’t been granting wishes for years.”
“It was hard and easy,” Ray said, unsuccessfully attempting to find the right words to describe the sensation. His hand was still tingling with residual magic. “But it wasn’t as fancy as what you did for Clarice. Just one whisk of the wand, and a phone call.”
“It didn’t have to be,” Rose said. “The Cinderella coach-and-four is not necessary in most cases, nor appropriate. Doing too much magic can take away a person’s choices, their free will. You won’t always be there with them, so they have to be able to straighten out their lives on their own. You’re there to maybe reverse a downward spiral, to turn around a young person who was otherwise on his or her way down. In this case, Matthew was losing trust in his father, who really wanted to do the right thing. You just made fate whisper in his boss’s ear. Nothing more.”
“I thought flashy was good,” Ray said.
“You play too many arcade games, young man. Every miracle is as different as the child it’s for. We bestow transformation, transportation, intervention, incredible and unlooked-for healing, and so on, but not all on the same client. It has to be the very best thing, the one that your heart tells you is the necessary one. You saw. What else would have been right for Matthew?”
Ray felt in his pockets for a scrap of paper to write down the list, and came up with a wrinkled receipt about two inches square. “Transformation, transportation … what were the others?” he asked. He
searched in vain for a pencil or pen.
“It’s all in the manual,” Rose said. “Read it, and we can go over any questions you have next time. Then, you can ask me anything. In the meantime, come on. The night is still young!”
Chapter 6
Ray was content to let Rose take over again after that. He wanted time to think, let what he had done sink in. Besides, he told her, he wanted to observe a pro a few more times before he tried it on his own again.
They found a fairly secluded niche between two buildings where Rose could do her detecting act without passersby seeing it. Ray wasn’t that surprised to find that his attitude had changed from worrying people would think the two of them were crazy, to protecting her from prying eyes. He was finding a lot of respect for this energetic lady.
The narrow corridor of concrete was illuminated only by the star on the top of Rose’s wand. She held the wand at chest level and turned around in a slow circle with her eyes closed.
“There aren’t too many traces tonight,” she said. “Quiet. Good for teaching without running too much. Oops, I spoke too soon. That way,” she said, opening her eyes and pointing west. She led Ray out onto the sidewalk and strode energetically toward the next corner.
“Don’t your feet ever get tired?” Raymond asked, trailing after her.
“All the time,” Rose said over her shoulder. It seemed it didn’t make her slow down.
“Well, my feet are on fire,” Raymond said, hurrying to catch up alongside. “I want to sit down a minute. These are my good shoes. I don’t use them for walking much.”
“Don’t worry,” Rose assured him. “This call is very close by.”
Just on the other side of the street at a tall frame house, Rose halted so quickly that Ray overran the destination by a dozen paces. He came back to see what she was looking at.
Above them, on the main level, the curtains of the sitting room window were wide-open. Inside, Ray saw a young boy with curly brown hair sitting on a sofa and just staring straight ahead of him. The boy’s light hazel eyes shifted slightly in their direction, proving he noticed them, but he was too preoccupied with his own troubles to react further.
Rose smiled up at the child. The boy’s eyebrows rose briefly in an expression of puzzlement as he wondered if he knew her, then drooped back over a sad frown.
“This kid needs mucho ayuda,” Ray said, feeling through his wand the misery pouring out of the house.
“Well, we’ll see,” Rose said. She walked up the stairs and right through the closed door. One of her arms reappeared and beckoned to Ray to hurry. He trotted up the steps after her.
O O O
By the time they had introduced themselves, the boy Peter was already blurting out the story of the Little League game he had played just that day.
“We were tied, see?” he said, looking from Ray to Rose and back again to Ray. While Rose seemed to him to be more sympathetic, as a man Ray seemed more likely to understand the mechanics of a close game. “I was out in the field, because …” He stopped, a little embarrassed.
“Because everybody can’t be the pitcher,” Rose said. “I have grandchildren. Go on.”
“Okay,” Peter said, resuming his fielding stance. “The bases were loaded. The other team is full of big kids. We all think they’re overage, but nobody listens to us,” Peter added with a grimace. “They’re winning, and that’s all anybody cares about.”
“Not me,” Ray said emphatically. He’d never been terrific at sports either, so winning couldn’t be the reason he played. “Come on. So what happened?”
“Anyhow, this big kid—he must have been your height! Maybe bigger!—marches out, and wham! The ball is coming out my way. I’m running and running. I had it right here!” He hammered his fist into his open hand. “It was right there, and then Rudy, Rudolfo, ran into me from right field. I couldn’t close my hand on the ball. I missed it. It hopped out of my glove and rolled away. We lost,” Peter said, staring at the middle distance between their feet. “And everybody blamed me.” He looked up at them. The whole thing lay so vividly in his mind Ray could almost watch the game in those clear green eyes. “I wish I could go back and catch that ball. I had it! It would’ve been a triple play! We’d have won the game.”
Rose took a deep breath and let it out in a gusty sigh. “Time travel’s not on our beat, honey. I wish I could help every child who has had a disappointment, who has been shamed in front of his friends and family, but you know it was just an accident. Missing a catch isn’t life threatening. It won’t scar you forever.”
“It does! We would have won if I caught that ball,” Peter insisted. He appealed to Ray. “We were tied! I could’ve caught them all out—a triple play. Please. We need that game to make it to the city series.”
“It’s only July,” Ray pointed out.
“Yeah, but we stink!” Peter said. “And I stink the worst.” Tears filled his eyes. “That’s what I’d wish for. Take me back and let me catch the ball.”
“You know what’s wrong with regrets?” Rose asked, reaching out a forefinger to tip up the boy’s chin. “You can’t look back and forward at the same time. You have to let it go. All you can do is promise yourself to try harder next time.” Peter looked unconvinced. “Come on,” Rose said, slapping her thighs and getting to her feet. “I need an ice cream, and so do you.”
She marched to the front door, wand held up like a majorette’s baton. Ray followed, but the boy hung back. They turned to wait for him. Peter stood in the middle of the sitting room rug with his hands hanging down by his sides, looking shamefaced.
“I’m not supposed to go anywhere with strangers,” he said.
“All right,” Rose said, with a motherly smile. “That’s a good rule. Then we won’t go together. There’s a carryout on the corner two blocks up. Meet us there.” She took another step toward the door.
Peter giggled. “That’s dumb. Okay. I’ll come with you.” He walked over to join them.
“Good,” Rose said. With a wink over the boy’s head to Ray, she took Peter’s hand, and swept him straight through the door.
“Whhoooaaa-eeeee!” the boy howled, first in surprise, then delight as the solid wood swallowed him up. Ray followed, more slowly, but smiling. When he emerged on the stoop, Peter was beaming.
“That was great!” he cried, reaching back to touch the door panel. It was solid. “Wow! Can we do that again?”
“Not until we bring you home,” Rose said. “Come on. I want a double-dip cone.”
Peter jogged alongside Ray and Rose on the way up the street, babbling and laughing. Ray thought Rose was right. The boy just needed somebody to talk to, not a big magical wonder. Once he’d been able to share his woes with somebody, the ice was broken, and he was a normal, happy little boy once more. Peter ate a gigantic sundae at the ice-cream stand, and raced Ray back to the house, almost winning until Ray opened up his long stride and outpaced him in the last few yards. When they reached the house the lights were on inside on the upper floor.
“My folks are home from the movies,” Peter said, looking up at the windows.
“Are you gonna get in trouble?” Ray asked.
Peter looked up at Ray sidelong, with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Naw. I’m allowed to go out by myself. I can tell ’em that I went out with my fairy godparents.”
“If you like, you can tell them all about it,” Rose said briskly, taking all the joy out of revealing forbidden information. Peter looked crestfallen. Rose bent down to look him straight in the eye. “Peter, are you feeling better now?”
The boy thought seriously for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said.
“Good,” Rose said. “You may need your miracle later on. I could see just by looking at you that this was not it.” Handing her wand to Ray, she opened her purse and dug through the contents until she found a square of white pasteboard. “Here. This is my card. Keep it. One day you’ll call me.”
“Okay,” Peter said dubiously, taking the
small white square. “Uh, thanks. I had a good time with you guys.” Rose beamed and patted the boy’s cheek.
“Well, what’s a fairy godmother for?”
The boy started to go up the stairs, then turned, his eyes appealing and puppylike.
“Hey, can we go through the door one more time?” Rose shrugged, but not at all reluctantly.
“Why not?” She and Ray each took one of Peter’s hands. Together, they whisked him up in the air and carried him through the solid panel. Peter’s round eyes were almost popping out of his head when they got into the hallway. He let out the big breath he’d been holding, and whispered, “Thanks!”
“Don’t mention it,” Rose said, with a swift glance up the inner staircase to see if anyone was coming down. She nodded to Ray, and led him into the front room. Once there, she stepped out through the window.
Uncertainly, Ray took his own wand out of his pocket and followed her. The first step was the hardest. Wall-walking he’d done, but window-walking felt different. The intersection of the glass with his body had a sharper feel than wood, and the panes sang as his body passed through. Rose waited for him, standing on the air six feet above the ground. Ray hoped the little training wand had the necessary pfft to keep him from plummeting six feet into the grassy square full of broken glass and cigarette butts. He stepped out after her, bracing himself. The air, though spongy, held his weight, and the magic slowly lowered them to the pavement. Ray let his shoulders sag with relief. He looked up toward the window when Rose did to wave good-bye. Peter was glued to the glass, his mouth gaping open.
The Magic Touch Page 6