A Stroke Of Magic

by Tracy Madison

  “Do you want him to be?” Her light tone sounded forced.

  I finished the last bite of my cone to give myself a minute before answering. Then: “I don’t know. Physical attraction is one thing. We’re talking about a guy I don’t know that well yet.”

  “Oh,” she repeated. She played with an invisible speck on her shirtsleeve. “It might also be Kyle. Are you ready for that?”

  Bingo. This was what I had been afraid of. I said simply, “Until we see his shoulder, we only have Shelby to believe. Maybe she’s wrong. Or maybe it’s on his left shoulder. It’s not worth stressing over yet.”

  “Weren’t you the one stressing a few minutes ago?” she pointed out.

  “Yes, but not about Kyle. He’s barely entered my thoughts.” I chewed a bit on my lip after saying this. While it wasn’t a complete fabrication, it wasn’t exactly the truth. But for now, until Chloe had a better handle on whatever she was going through, I was sticking to my guns.

  “I’m not sure I really want to go,” Chloe admitted softly. “To the cookout. Since Ethan is going, do you mind if I skip out?”

  I reined in my impatience. We’d already had this conversation about a dozen times, and I was a bit tired of it. “I can’t make you go, but I’d like it if you did. Besides, if it’s miserable we’ll leave. I promise.”

  She nodded. Just like she had the other times. “Okay, but I’ve been thinking a lot about this.” She bit her lip. “There’s another promise I want from you.”

  This portion of the conversation was new. I said, “Anything. Well, anything within reason.”

  She wiggled in her chair. “If it turns out that Kyle is the man in your drawing, then don’t worry about me. Or my feelings. What’s most important here is that you do what Miranda says.” Her eyes met mine again. “Promise me that.”

  I snorted. “No way am I promising that. Of course I’m worried about your feelings. Besides, when I think about Kyle all I feel is irritation. There’s no excitement or attraction. We’ve gone over this,” I reminded her as calmly as possible.

  “But that’s my fault, because of what happened with me. You might feel very differently if I’d never dated him. If I’d never been hurt by him. You can’t rule that out. You really need to keep an open mind.”

  “About Kyle? I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Don’t you get it?” she pushed.

  “Get what?”

  She exhaled loudly. “Everything happens for a reason. You know that! It’s like fate is playing her hand right now. She has been for a while, actually. And you have to pay attention to it.”

  “Pay attention to what? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Lots of men likely have marks on their shoulders. This doesn’t have to mean anything. You know that.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she argued.

  “Then tell me what you mean.”

  “It’s the order of events. The timing of everything.” I must have still looked perplexed, because she sighed again. “Don’t you think it’s just a little unreal? From running into Shelby, to her seeing the picture and thinking it’s my ex? That sort of stuff doesn’t just happen.”

  “Coincidences happen all the time.”

  Chloe sucked in a breath. “But if it’s fate, then it’s all supposed to happen this way. That’s why I think it is Kyle. And that’s why I don’t think I should go on Saturday.”

  My stomach hurt. I ignored it. “Maybe it is fate. Maybe you’re right about that. But it could be a different outcome. We don’t know anything yet.” I hesitated but decided it was better to forge ahead. “Besides, isn’t how I feel important?”

  “I’m not saying it isn’t. But you can’t ignore—”

  “What I’m trying to say is that I feel things for Ethan. Not Kyle.” Another thought occurred to me. “And I could make the exact same fate argument about Ethan.”

  “No. You can’t.” Chloe lifted her chin.

  “Oh, yes I can. One: I haven’t worked with him for that long. Two: he called the very night I first heard about the warning. Three: I drew him with me in a sketch, without meaning to. Four: I think about kissing him all the time.”

  Stress rolled off her in one long wave, though a small smile appeared on her face. “Fine. I admit you have a point. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong, so you still have to be ready to move forward if it turns out Kyle really is the one. Deal?”

  So tired of talking about this, I put my hands up in defeat. “Okay, Chloe. If you need to hear that, then okay. Deal.”

  As soon as I agreed, she blinked in surprise. Her jaw dropped but she snapped it shut. Her expression tore my heart in two. “Why did you push for this so much if that’s not what you wanted to hear?” I asked.

  “That’s not it. I’m…” A tremble passed through her body and she admitted her mistake. “I want what’s right for you. I just hate that it might be with him. And I hate myself for feeling that way. I’m trying to do everything right. I’m trying to say the right things. But just now, when you agreed…it hurt. I know that’s dumb. You’re my best friend. And…well…I love you. But I loved him too. This is just really hard.”

  The tears came then, dripping down her cheeks in quick succession. I reached across the table and clasped one of her hands. “Right now, at this minute, there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s save this discussion until there is something. Because I don’t think there will be.” At least, I hoped there wouldn’t. “Besides, how do you know this isn’t about you and Kyle? Maybe fate is pushing you two together again.”

  “I doubt that. But you’re right about the other stuff.” She laughed, wiped the tears away. “I still have this strange feeling that everything is going to change on Saturday. That’s dumb too, huh?”

  I had the same feeling, but I’d been trying to overlook it. “Not dumb. You’re just thinking too much. Let’s focus on what we know, and not the stuff we don’t.”

  “Good plan. I’m going to go wash up.”

  She let go of my hand and then headed for the restroom. Me? I cradled my arms on the table and laid my head down. Right or wrong, I was frustrated with Chloe. I understood why she was so upset, but I’d trade places with her in an instant. Her big anxiety was seeing Kyle again. And with everything I was handling, I wasn’t managing her emotions all that well.

  She returned and sat back down. I didn’t lift my head.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’re dealing with heavier things than I am.”

  And with those words, everything settled inside.

  Sitting up straight, I smiled. “It’s cool. We’re fine. But we still haven’t come up with a plan for Saturday. I can’t think of one thing that will get both men to remove their shirts other then Shelby’s pool, so let’s hope for a hot, sunny day.”

  Chloe chuckled, her own good mood obviously restored. “Well, one positive thing happened as a result of all my freaking out—I had a possible idea that just might do the trick. It’s not very creative, but if it’s successful, who cares?”

  “I don’t care if it’s creative. What’s the plan?” I asked.

  A voice came from somewhere to my left, interrupting. “Hey! Fancy running into you two here!” Cocking my head to the side, I saw Scot, dressed in blue jeans and a brown T-shirt, loping toward our table. “Happy birthday, sis. It’s Wednesday. How’s it feel to be thirty-three?”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “Exactly like it felt to be thirty-two. What are you doing at the mall?” Because, you know, as a guy, he enjoyed shopping about as much as a dental appointment. But I have to admit, it was nice seeing him.

  He held up the bag he carried. “Just expanding my CD and DVD collections.”

  “For all your lonely nights at home?” I joked. But instantly I felt bad, because while I was only teasing, he sort of froze. His gaze swung from me to Chloe.

  I was about to apologize, but he grinned. “Nah. For those nights I need a break from all the women.” He winked at Chloe and th
en pulled out a chair.

  Yeah, right. My older brother rarely dated, but I wasn’t going to swing the axe at his macho attitude a second time, so I stayed silent. My packages were in his seat. He grabbed them and went to put them on the floor, but then he stopped. His jaw clenched and the muscle in his arm pulsed. Pivoting his head, he shot me a look filled with questions.

  I didn’t get—at first—what had my brother so nonplussed. My eyes followed his arm to his hand to the bags he still held. Then I froze. Because that’s when I got it. My pay-attention-to-the-details brother had noticed the maternity shop’s name on my packages. And for once, he was startled enough that he didn’t know what to say.

  This was so not the way I’d wanted him to find out. I’d envisioned a calm discussion where I slowly spilled the beans after making sure he knew I was okay with everything. But this way? It looked like exactly what it was: a secret I’d kept for far too long.

  I opened my mouth, all ready to confess, when he dropped the bags to the floor and shifted his gaze to my friend. In a quiet voice he said, “Chloe? You’re pregnant?” The softness of his tone didn’t fool me. I heard the mix of disbelief, worry, and another emotion I couldn’t quite identify. Me? I think I was as shocked as she.

  Her eyes widened. Her face blanched. She looked at me, and I saw in her gaze the truth—that if I wanted her to, she’d play along with his assumption. She’d take the heat for me until I was ready to confess all. Chloe is, hands down, the best friend a girl could have. But not only was that unfair, it was time—beyond time—for me to be honest with my family.

  It seemed I’d be beginning with Scot. Grabbing his wrist, I tugged until he turned to me. “Scot,” I said, speaking as calmly as possible. “It’s not Chloe who’s pregnant.”

  Relief washed over his expression, which kind of surprised me. He ran his hands through his hair. “Whoa. For a minute there…” His eyes swept over me, down to the bags on the floor, and then back. Comprehension dawned and his jaw clenched. “You, Alice? You’re having a baby?”

  I swallowed before answering. “Well, not yet,” I said, hoping to make light of the situation, hoping I’d be able to get a grin from him. I failed. “But in September, yes.”

  He did the math. “You’re four months along? And you haven’t told any of us?”

  “Chloe and Elizabeth know. And Grandma. But no, not anyone else in the family.” I clenched my hands together, trying to make them stop shaking. Why hadn’t I taken care of this earlier? Rhetorical question. I knew why. Avoidance with a capital A.

  His gaze stayed centered on me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m better than I was, and I’ll be okay. It’s getting easier every day.” His arm came around me in a tight clutch. My forehead touched his shoulder, and he squeezed me again. Being hugged by my big brother felt good. So good, I had to work to steady my emotions. Crying would freak him out.

  “Who’s the father?” he whispered, his mouth right by my ear.

  I pulled back. “I don’t want to talk about that. At least not here. Not now.”

  “Then when?”

  I cleared my throat. “After I tell everyone else.”

  “And that will be when?” he pushed.

  “Soon. I promise.”

  “Don’t you trust us?” A twinge of hurt darted over him, and that made me feel worse. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “That’s not it. Not at all.” I took another steadying breath. “Of course I trust you, Scot. My not telling you had nothing to do with trust. It had to do with being afraid and wanting to have a plan so that I wouldn’t look like such an idiot to everyone.”

  The tightness in his shoulders eased—just a little—and the hurt in his eyes evaporated. Thank God for that. “You’re not an idiot. I wish you’d come to me, that’s all.”

  I touched his cheek with my hand. “This is a personal thing. I needed some time to deal, but I’ve been planning on talking to you—to everyone—for a while now.”

  He gave me another hug. Then he did the coolest thing any big brother could possibly do in that situation. He sort of shook himself, as if to clear the air, and then he let me off the hook. “So what’s going on for you this weekend? Maybe we could go catch a movie or something.”

  “We have plans on Saturday,” Chloe interjected.

  “What sort of plans?”

  “Just a cookout at a friend’s house,” I said.

  Chloe snorted. “Uh-huh. Friend.”

  I gave her the evil eye. “I’m telling you, you’re going to like her now. If you give her a chance, anyway.”

  This piqued Scot’s interest. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”

  Chloe wrinkled her nose. “Shelby Whitaker’s house for a barbeque with her, her husband, and Kyle Ackers.”

  The color drained from Scot’s complexion as he glanced at her. “Kyle Ackers? That guy from high school? The one you thought you were going to marry? Are you dating him again?”

  “How’d you know I dated him? It was forever ago. But no, I’m not. It’s just a thing we’re doing.” Chloe shot me a curious glance. I shrugged. I was as surprised by Scot’s behavior as she was.

  “Like anyone in our house didn’t know you dated Kyle. Or what he did.” He leaned forward, toward Chloe. “Don’t go out with him. I know men, and we don’t change. What you see is what you get.”

  Wow. A little intense for my brother. “Scot, chill. I ran into Shelby again not that long ago, and she has changed. So you can’t say people never change.”

  “I didn’t. I said men never change. At least men like him.”

  Okay, this conversation was getting weirder by the second. I wasn’t sure how to respond, but luckily, an announcement that the mall was closing reverberated throughout the food court. Yay. Saved by the bell. “We need to go. Walk us out to Chloe’s car?”

  “Of course.”

  The three of us shuffled out together. At the car, Scot gave us a both a stiff hug. “Let me know when you’re ready to tell everyone. I’ll be there,” he said in a low voice.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  And I did. But this was one birthday I was glad to see come to an end. A girl could only handle so much weirdness at a time. The slippery slope I stood on seemed to be getting slipperier by the minute. I needed something to grab on to, something to give me a bit of traction as I figured out the rest. My stomach fluttered with nerves, and I wondered what Saturday would hold: good news; bad news; or nothing new at all.

  People were laughing. Loudly.

  The noise pushed through the wall of sleep and I dragged my eyes open to darkness. Sitting up in bed, I yawned and focused my attention on the sound. It came from the direction of my living room, but that made zero sense. Unless I’d left the television on.

  I scooted from bed, thinking that was what I’d done. It wasn’t until I reached my bedroom door that I remembered I hadn’t turned the television on that evening. Dinner, shopping, and the unexpected confrontation with Scot had left me exhausted. After returning home, I’d brushed my teeth and gone directly to bed.

  Another wave of laughter streamed into my room. Yep, definitely the television. Seeing as the only other person who had a key to my place was Grandma Verda, and it was doubtful she’d come all the way over just to watch TV in the dead of night, a flicker of fear stopped me in my tracks. I almost turned back to grab my phone, but the same curiosity that killed the cat pushed me forward. I crept into the hallway, my bare feet soundless on the carpeting.

  Shivers of unease slipped over me, coating my skin with bristly bumps. I paused again and listened. Other than the television and the sound of my own breathing, nothing else met my ears. Maybe I’d forgotten I’d had the television on? Anything was possible.

  A couple more silent steps and I stopped. The heady fragrance of roses weaved itself around me, tickling my nose. The scent was so strong, so real, that if I didn’t know better, it would have been easy to believe I stood in the center of a rose garde
n instead of in my hallway. Which meant it was quite likely that Miranda was in the house.

  Adrenaline kicked in, replacing the fear. I ignored the urge to run into the living room and pummel her with questions. I mean, what if I were wrong and it was a liberally perfumed thief who was inside my house watching TV? Yeah, I know. Not likely. But just in case, I continued to move softly and silently.

  At the end of the hallway, I peered around the corner. There was Miranda, sitting on my couch, ghostly eyes glued to an episode of Three’s Company. And even though I’d expected it to be her, the sight still startled me.

  My shivers came back, but for a different reason. In a weird way, I felt as if I were witnessing a moment I shouldn’t see. She looked so real. I took a step backward, but not far enough that she left my view. Her ghostly form shook with quiet laughter as she continued to watch the show. Who knew ghosts enjoyed old sitcoms? Not me, that’s for sure.

  During every other instance I’d seen my great-great-great-grandmother, a rainbow had swirled around her, colors seemingly bouncing off of each other in a sparkling, breathtaking display. Not this time, and their absence surprised me. Other than the slight glow, she really could have been a normal, flesh-and-blood person hanging out in my living room.

  My instincts were still to run forward and toss all the questions I had at her, and to demand answers, but something continued to hold me back. After all, Miranda certainly had the capability of waking me up or invading my dreams if she wanted to talk to me. Since she’d done neither, I had to assume that wasn’t the case. Besides, barging in on a ghost didn’t seem to be that smart a plan, no matter who the ghost was.

  Should I go back to bed? Stand there and wait? Or creep in and quietly take a seat? I lingered, trying to make up my mind. She ended the debate for me.

  “I know you’re there, Alice. Come join me. This boy is absolutely adorable.”

  I took one step forward. “What boy?”

  “This one. Here on the box. Jack Tripper.”

  One more step, and I hovered just inside the living room. “Yeah. He is.” I sidled over to my papasan chair and sat there. For some reason, weird or not, sitting next to Miranda on my couch didn’t feel right.