A Stroke Of Magic

by Tracy Madison

  “It’s real, Scot,” Chloe said. “I’ve seen things myself.”

  My dad stood, still holding the newspaper, and beckoned to my brother. “This is something that doesn’t concern us. Let’s go to the kitchen and let them talk.” When Scot hesitated, my father said, “Now, son.”

  After my dad and Scot had escaped the madness, I collapsed on the couch next to my mother. “Why don’t you believe?”

  “Because it’s ludicrous. That’s why.”

  “And why did Dad leave? It sort of seems like he knows.”

  “I told him about it a long time ago, when I tried to give it to Isobel. Joe knows too, but that was an accident.” Grandma Verda frowned at my mother. “They both believe, and Marty has asked me to help him out with a spell here and there over the years.”

  My mother gasped. Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. Shivers sheathed my skin. “This is getting weirder by the second,” I mumbled. I’d never have guessed, in a million years, that my brother and father already knew about the magic. About Miranda.

  Covering her face with her hands, my mother sighed.

  Ack. She wasn’t handling it well. I even felt bad about bringing it up. I glanced at Elizabeth, Grandma, Chloe, and then back to Mom. “We don’t have to talk about this around you. I should never have said anything.”

  A hard shiver rippled through Mom. Slowly, she removed her hands. “Thank you.”

  That should have been the end of it, at least for now, but of course it wasn’t. Because at that instant, the scent of roses filled the air. I glanced at Elizabeth, and she noticed too. Strangely, so did Chloe, if her expression was anything to go by. I didn’t have a chance to wonder why, because almost immediately, a kaleidoscope of colors swirled into the room, tiny glimmers of light darting every which way.

  Of course. I’d been trying to get Miranda’s attention for a week, and now she decided to show up. My ghost grandmother had the most interesting, and frustrating, sense of timing.

  My mother’s cheeks whitened. “What is that? What’s going on here?”

  Grandma Verda clapped her hands. “Oh! It’s her. She’s coming!”

  “Who’s coming?” asked Chloe.

  “Miranda.” And wow, was she putting on a show. She certainly had a…gift in the special-effects department. The colors zipped around the room, the lights danced, and then there she was, in the center of all of it. I sort of wanted to strangle her; not that ghosts could be strangled, but…well, I wasn’t very happy with her.

  Grandma Verda stood, her body trembling with excitement. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again. I’ve wanted to see you again.”

  The light around Miranda pulsated. “I told you that you would, Verda. I don’t break my word.”

  Chloe shrank against the wall. Not in fear, or even shock, but by the look in her eyes, pure amazement. “Wow. Just wow.”

  My ghostly grandmother laughed in her tinkling way. “Hello, Chloe. Thank you for taking such good care of Alice. She needs you, and you need her. I’m so glad you have each other.”

  Chloe nodded, but continued to stare, wide-eyed, at her.

  Miranda smiled in my sister’s direction. “Elizabeth…I’m pleased to see how happy you are. Things are going well for you, yes?”

  “For me, but not for Alice. She could use some help.” Elizabeth’s eyes beseeched our ancestress. “Can you please help her?”

  She shook her head, a glimmer of sadness in her eyes. “I’ve done all I can do. The rest is in her hands.”

  “I’m right here. Talk to me! I’ve been trying to get you to all week. Why haven’t you come?” The shaking in my voice pissed me off. “Do you know what’s happened? Do you know how I feel?”

  “I’m so very sorry you’re in such pain, Alice. But I can’t interfere. You need to find the solution for yourself. Nothing has changed there.”

  I wanted to argue with her. Hell, I wanted to—somehow—force her to answer my questions, to make everything better, to tell me that my feelings were right, even without a scar. But how do you make a ghost do anything she doesn’t want to do?

  Gliding to my mother, Miranda’s form shimmered, and she smiled again. More pulsating lights and colors surrounded her, like a rainbow on speed. “Isobel, I’ve watched you for your entire life. Everything Verda has told you is the truth, but listen carefully: My love for you has nothing to do with the magic or the gift. It’s within your rights to turn it away.”

  My mother nodded, and she seemed calm enough, but her complexion scared the hell out of me. This was probably way too much for her. What amused me, though, was how her good manners overrode her fear, her skepticism. “It’s nice to meet you, Miranda. Uh…you look very nice today.”

  Elizabeth chuckled. Grandma Verda shushed her. Me? I just stayed quiet. I couldn’t speak, but I couldn’t turn away, either.

  “If you ever change your mind about the gift, it’s there for you…whenever you want it,” said Miranda. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

  My mother stared at Miranda, and questions dotted her eyes but she kept them to herself. “Okay, then. Well. It was nice meeting you,” she repeated. “I’m going to go to the kitchen now and talk to Marty and Scot.” Standing, she took one more long look at Miranda and then quietly, and quickly, left the room.

  Once she’d disappeared, Miranda turned back to us. “She’ll have questions eventually, but not yet. Be ready for them when they do come, answer them honestly, and she might surprise you.”

  Chloe stepped forward. “Isn’t there anything else you can tell Alice? She’s in love with Ethan and he doesn’t seem to be the man in her drawing. How can that be?”

  Miranda’s form hazed out, the lights and colors dimmed, but her voice remained. “Alice has her answers…if she knows where to look, if she lets herself believe.”

  As quickly as she’d arrived, she left. The scent of roses disappeared, and the chaotic energy in the room ebbed. Annoyed I’d gotten nothing new from her, I slumped forward.

  “That was so cool!” Chloe rubbed her arms. “I can’t believe I met a ghost. How do you think your mom’s handling it?”

  Good question. “I don’t know. She’ll either pretend it never happened or wait to bring it up.” I hoped she’d wait. I mean, eventually I’d be excited to talk to her about Miranda, about everything that existed in our family, but not now. Not when I could barely breathe.

  Elizabeth aimed her gaze my way. “Did anything Miranda said make any sort of difference for you?”

  “It’s the same stuff she always says. So, no.”

  This wasn’t quite the truth, though, because all at once, something hung there right on the edge of my comprehension. I didn’t give it too much thought, because unless I could find a way to make Ethan my soul mate, or turn back the clock to stop myself from falling head over heels…well, I just flat-out didn’t care.

  The staff meeting came to an abrupt end the following Tuesday afternoon. I was grateful for it, because listening to Ethan talk for a full hour had been agony through and through. Even worse, he’d barely glanced my way the entire time. In fact, he’d only spoken directly to me once, and that was to state that while Mr. Kendall had been impressed with both campaigns, he’d decided to go with Missy’s ideas for the Frosty’s Ice Cream Shoppe account. Most of his customers were families with kids, so he thought Missy’s kid-focused campaign was a better fit.

  Maybe this should have disappointed me, but it didn’t. Seeing as I’d decided to accept the job at the gallery, it was better for Missy to get the accolades, anyway. That decision had become an easy one, at least. Not so much because of Ethan, but because I could now admit the gallery just fit me and my life better than Enchanted Expressions.

  But I’d be lying if I said Ethan had nothing to do with it. How could he not? After all, he was all I could think of.

  I shuffled out of the conference room, intent on making it to my desk. I hadn’t put my notice in yet, because after talking to Maura, it definitely seemed better
to wait until after the baby was born to make a change. I’d make it official soon, though, so Ethan would have plenty of time to find a replacement.

  “Alice? Could I see you in my office, please?” Ethan’s voice hit me from behind and a tight knot of anxiety curled in the middle of my back.

  “Of course. Let me drop this stuff off at my desk and I’ll be right there.” I didn’t turn around, just kept walking. What did he want? Was it personal or business?

  Dumb question, because anything to do with Ethan was acutely personal.

  I took my time, but even so, less than fifteen minutes later I approached Grandma Verda’s desk. It was her last week helping out, as Ethan’s new assistant was set to begin the following Monday. Rather than being relieved, it made me a little sad. I’d enjoyed having her in the office. She did little things that I appreciated, like ordering my favorite brand of herbal tea for the break room, stopping by my desk in the mornings with a treat of some sort, and sending me funny e-mails just to make me laugh.

  Beyond that, she’d systematically impressed one person after another at Enchanted Expressions. Accounting loved her because she’d gotten several delinquent accounts to pay up. The administrative staff thought she walked on water because she’d fixed their temperamental copy machine. And she’d mediated several crises between creative and whoever they were arguing with at any particular moment, making her the most wanted person in the office.

  All in all, Grandma Verda rocked. Plain and simple.

  I stopped in front in of her. “Is he in there?” I nodded toward his closed door.

  “He is. Waiting for you.” Her blue eyes shifted away for a second. “If you don’t want to talk to him, I can make up an excuse.”

  “No, Grandma. I’m still an employee here. So that means if the boss wants to talk to me, the boss gets to talk to me. I’ll be fine.” Or, at least, I’d pretend to be fine. Somehow.

  Worry clouded her gaze. “Okay, then. Good luck, sweetie.”

  I rapped on the door once and then pushed it open. Ethan sat behind his desk, ramrod straight. I hovered at the threshold, ignoring the urge to run to him, to kiss him, to tell him I’d made a horrible mistake and I was sorry. Oh-so-sorry.

  Jaw tense, eyes shielded, he nodded toward a chair. “Take a seat, Alice.”

  He spoke in his take-charge, all-about-business voice. My palms were moist, so I slid them down my skirt. Attempting to look poised, in control of my feelings, I crossed the room. In all likelihood I failed, but points to me for trying.

  “If this is about the Frosty’s account, it’s cool,” I said. “I’m not upset he chose Missy’s campaign ideas.”

  “That’s not it.” Ethan’s gaze drifted down to the open file on his desk and then back to me. “I have Troy’s papers back from my attorney. There’s a problem with them. I can tell you, or if you prefer I can set up an appointment with the lawyer.”

  Okay, this was not what I’d expected. The urge to kiss Ethan fled, because now, worry about my daughter crept in. “Go on. It’ll drive me nuts if I have to wait. What’s the issue?”

  “It appears that, until the baby is born, Troy has no rights to give up.” He tapped his fingers on the file as he spoke, his voice flat. “My attorney assures me that these papers are worthless until you, or a court, designate Troy as the father. Even then, they might not do you much good.”

  His words bounced around in my head. Worthless? How could they be worthless? “I don’t understand. He is the father. This is what he wants.”

  “Correct, but paternity hasn’t been legally established, and what he wants might not matter to the court,” he said, an edge of anger evident.

  “Oh.” I focused on the first part, trying to think logically. “So basically, once she’s born and I put his name on her birth certificate, then the papers can be submitted?”

  “Correct,” he repeated. “The possibility then exists, however, for a judge to rule against these documents. It’s actually very unlikely a court will remove his parental rights, even with his wishes, unless he is deemed an unfit parent.”

  “But he doesn’t want anything to do with her! Why go through all of this if that’s the case? I don’t want to force him to do anything.”

  Compassion flickered. “The attorney had a suggestion, but it’s chancy.”

  “What is it?” Not only didn’t I want to force Troy into anything, I really didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

  “If you’re absolutely sure that Troy doesn’t want to be a father, then don’t put his name on the birth certificate. He can come back at a later date if he changes his mind, and ask for DNA testing, but it gets both of you off the hook to begin with.”

  Ew. The idea came off as shady to me, but maybe if I talked to Troy and he agreed, I’d feel better about it. And let’s face it: there was no way Troy wouldn’t agree.

  “Maybe,” I said, releasing a breath.

  “I also have a suggestion.” The timbre of Ethan’s voice deepened, and something in his eyes made my heart flutter. Every part of me focused on him.

  “What?” I reminded myself to breathe.

  He stared at me, as if weighing his words, and my belly quivered. “We’ve both talked about how strong our connection is and how quickly it emerged. I’ve told you before that you’re a woman I can see spending my life with. Nothing has changed for me, so I’d like you to reconsider your decision. I’d like you to trust in our feelings.” He inhaled deeply and then exhaled. “Marry me, Alice. Let me adopt your baby.”

  He was proposing? After everything I’d told him, after walking away from him, hurting him, he wanted to marry me? A rush of dizziness had me clenching my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My eyes welled and I held them open as wide as possible, knowing if I blinked, I’d cry.

  “I didn’t fight before. I’m fighting now. For us.” He wiped his hands over his face. When he dropped them, the hope that existed there tore into me, ignited my own hope…and then slowly fizzled out. Because he was right: nothing had changed.

  Why oh why couldn’t I say yes? Everything I wanted was right here, right in front of me, just waiting for me to grab it. But I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn’t. “Ethan…I—”

  “Right.” The word erupted like a clap of thunder. “Still no scar. And that’s the only thing that will change your mind, isn’t it?” He slid the file with Troy’s papers across the desk. “Save these, so if you ever need to prove Troy’s intentions, you can.”

  And so it seemed, just like he’d said the other day: that was that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aaron wiped at the coffee he’d spilled on his shirt, little bits of paper napkin sticking to the wet fabric. “So…uh…when do you think you’ll make a decision on the model thing?”

  The last of my oh-so-not-fun speed dating sessions appeared to be ending pretty much like the first three had. Zilch for sparks, zip for interest, and nada for getting over Ethan. Basically, I was still screwed and in love with the wrong guy.

  I sighed and handed him another napkin, just wanting this over with. So I could go back home and try to think of new ways to prove I was supposed to be with Ethan. “Well. The thing is…there isn’t really a job.” While I hadn’t told any of my other “dates” the truth, Aaron was just so adorably cute—like a puppy dog—that keeping up the pretense somehow rubbed me the wrong way.

  Giving up on his latest wet splotch, he frowned. “What is this about then?”

  I wiggled in my seat. “Well,” I said. “It’s more like a date thing.”

  Green eyes bugged out behind his glasses. “You’ve gone through all of this to meet men? Why would you do that?”

  “I didn’t place the ad; my grandmother did. It’s lame, and I’m sorry, but there you have it.” Probably, he’d threaten to sue—or dump his coffee on my head. Neither of which would surprise me. Well, not that I actually thought he could sue. Could he?

  He blinked. “This is odd. I can’t com
pletely decide if I’m flattered or creeped out.”

  “Be creeped out. I would be,” I confided. “And I’m sorry. It was a bad idea and I should have stopped it immediately.” Because come on, I’d known nothing would come from it.

  “Why did you come then? Why not stand me up? Or call to cancel and tell your grandmother it didn’t work out?”

  “All very good points.” I hesitated. Sure, the practical reasons for keeping the dates were sound, but he didn’t need the whole truth. Finally, I shrugged. “Sometimes my grandmother knows what she’s talking about, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

  “Alrighty then. I’m sorry too. The job would have been cool, but I’m not in the market for a girlfriend.” He cleared his throat. “My current girlfriend will think this is hilarious.” Standing, he smiled, though it was a bit tentative. “I’m going to take off, since there isn’t a job and all. But…uh…thanks for the coffee.”

  “No problem on the coffee, and thank you for being decent about this.”

  He nodded and left. Leaning back, I put my feet up on the chair he’d vacated and sipped my chai tea, trying to ignore the ache that refused to leave. Beyond that? Well, going home and informing Grandma Verda the dates had been a bust didn’t thrill me. She’d come up with something new. Likely something else I’d hate.

  Wow, the dates had definitely been a bust. Not just in the lack-of-feeling department, but also in the what-else-can-possibly-go-wrong department. The first guy’s chair had broken for no apparent reason. Number two had suffered some sort of allergic reaction halfway through and spent the remaining time scratching his arm like crazy. Three couldn’t stop sneezing—maybe another allergy? And poor Aaron had spilled coffee on himself repeatedly.

  Yeah, all in all they’d been more than weird. More than a little humorous too. Part of me thought my daughter was exerting her magic to point out these men were wrong for me, but that was silly. Wasn’t it? Or maybe it was just overly hopeful, because other than the sprinkler thing in the beginning, all of my dates with Ethan had been accident-free. And yeah, Chloe would definitely say the mishaps were a sign of some sort. And hey, maybe they were. Who was I to argue with fate?