Light Magic

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Light Magic Page 4

by Ellie Ferguson


  “All right. Beth, why don’t you bring in our standard contract. We’ll get that filled out and then we can get to work.”

  Five minutes later, I handed the now completed contract back to Beth, along with my credit card. I’d been surprised at the low amount she’d put in as a retainer. Maybe things worked differently here than they did in Wichita or maybe Beth was anticipating a very short professional relationship between her boss and me. Either way, I had a feeling the amount wouldn’t be enough.

  “I made one change to the contract,” I said before Beth could leave. “I increased the amount of the retainer.”

  Annie held her hand out and waited for Beth to hand over the contract. For a moment, she studied the amount I’d put in. Then she looked across the desk at me. For once, I couldn’t read her expression. “Why?”

  “Let me put it this way. I’ve enough experience to know the retainer rarely covers all costs, no matter how simple the case might be. I’d rather have a credit than have to worry about it later.”

  Eyes narrowed, her brain obviously trying to put the clues together, Annie handed the contract back to Beth and gave her a nod. Then she turned her attention to me. “Experience, huh? What do you do, Meg?”

  “Like you, I’m an attorney.” Once more, I pulled out my wallet. This time I handed both Beth and Annie business cards, my own.

  For a moment, Annie simply stared at me in disbelief. As she did, one corner of my mouth quirked up. I knew what she was thinking. How could I not? The leather clad, Harley riding stranger was an attorney. Then Annie chuckled. The sparkle in her eyes had me looking at her through lowered lids. She might be up to something, but I didn’t have to play along. I had other things to do, like studying the documents she’d given me.

  “Thanks,” I said as Beth returned with my credit card and a copy of the contract. “And thanks for pulling this together, Annie. I’ll take a look at them and will be in touch. I have a feeling this is just the beginning of my search.”

  She reached for one of the business cards sitting in a holder near the edge of her desk. I watched as she scrawled something across the back of the card. When she handed it to me, I saw she’d given me not only her cell phone number but her home number as well.

  “Call me any time, Meg. I mean that.”

  “I will.”

  Beth cleared her throat and took a none-too-veiled glance at her watch. Annie smiled and nodded.

  “My next appointment’s due any minute. Sorry.” She gave a little shrug. “What are you doing for lunch? We could meet up and discuss the documents.”

  “Sounds good, but I probably ought to take a rain check. I promised Miss Serena I’d go see her when I finished here.” And see Mom’s other letter.

  “Give me a call when you finish. Something tells me you’ll have even more questions then.”

  “I will.” Even though I hoped for answers, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach told me Annie was right. “Thanks again.”

  Five minutes later, after getting directions to Miss Serena’s from Beth, I stood next to the Harley, carefully settling the saddlebags in place. Instantly, I felt Mom’s spells once again activating. As they did, the familiar ache of loss tightened my chest. Tears burned in my eyes and I blinked them away just in time. Miss Peggy stepped out of the café and moved in her no-nonsense manner in my direction.

  “You finish up your business with Annie?” she asked.

  “I did.” I reached for my helmet and then swung my leg over the Harley.

  “Good. You listen to her. She’ll do everything she can to help you. We all will.” For a moment, she stared at me just like a Sunday School teacher contemplating a misbehaving student. The she smiled and her expression was transformed. Gone was the intimidating woman. In her place was someone who looked like all she wanted was to hold you close and protect you. “Your mother was a good woman, Meg, and she loved you more than anything else on this earth. You remember that.”

  I sniffled once and nodded. “I will. I do.”

  Stern again save for the twinkle in her eyes, Miss Peggy pointed one boney finger at me. “I expect you to be back here for a meal, a real meal this time, soon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She gave a nod and returned to the café. I pulled on my helmet and started the engine. A moment later, I carefully pulled out of the parking space and headed down Main Street, following the directions Beth gave me. As I did, I wondered what this next step in my journey would bring.

  As I rode out of downtown and through several residential areas, I encountered no more than a dozen other vehicles on the road. After spending the day before on the ride from Wichita, it was a pleasant departure from the highway traffic I’d dealt with the day before. From time to time, I spotted a vehicle behind me. A car here, a truck there. Nothing out of the ordinary. After all, this was Small Town, Texas. There couldn’t be too many ways in and out of town. It was only reasonable someone would be behind me.

  Maybe I should have paid closer attention. My only excuse was that my mind was on Mom’s letters, both of them. Then there was the ride itself. Tall trees lined the road, once I was away from the town proper. The nearest highway was miles away. I had no doubt if I pulled over and shut off the engine, I’d hear the sounds of birds and insects, maybe even small wildlife, instead of cars and trucks. This was the Texas countryside and it was gorgeous.

  Still, I’d ridden a motorcycle most of my adult life. Habit had turned to instinct and I checked my rearview mirror. At some point after I left downtown, a dark colored pickup pulled onto the road behind me. Even though I was driving above the posted limit – no one in their right mind would expect a driver, especially not one on a Harley, to keep their speed below forty on this stretch of road – the pickup appeared to be gaining on me. I heard the rumble of the diesel engine over the sound of my Harley. Keeping an eye out, I continued, wondering how much further before I reached the turnoff to Miss Serena’s place.

  Even keeping an eye on the truck and seeing it continue to close on me, I didn’t worry. Then I felt that unmistakable tingling I’d learned long ago not to ignore. It had saved my skin on more than one occasion, both literally and figuratively. I wasn’t going to ignore it now.

  A quick glance in the mirror and my heart tried to climb out of my chest and into my throat. The phrase, “Objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear” echoed in my head. The reflection of the pickup made it look like the truck was about to climb my rear wheel. Forget about comfort, it was much too close for safety.

  Instinct kicked in even as my pulse thundered in my ears. Breathing? I’m not sure I did. My focus split between the image of the truck in the mirror and keeping an eye on the road. I needed to put distance between us now, before something very bad happened.

  Every warning my mother issued when I first told her I was going to buy a motorcycle returned. They weren’t safe. Other drivers didn’t treat them with respect. They were hard to see. I’d become road kill much too easily. There was more but it all echoed around those themes, themes I prayed didn’t come to life with me as the lesson to be told to others later.

  Hands and feet worked without thought as I sped up, shifted gears. Brakes, applied when needed to maintain control. Trees sped by as the Harley ate up the road. I switched lanes, risking driving in the oncoming lane, only to see the truck follow. Damn it! Whatever he was up to, it boded no good, at least not for me.

  Back home, I’d have opened the throttle and left the truck far behind. One of the things I loved about the Harley was its speed. But I knew the roads in and around Wichita. Mossy Creek and its environs were something else. I didn’t know when there might be an unexpected bump in the road that could send me flying over the handlebars or a curve that would see me doing a header into a tree – or worse.

  For a moment, I considered going off-road. Just as quickly, I discarded the thought. The same concerns about opening the Harley up applied to going off-road. I didn’t know the terrain. M
ore than that, the SuperLow had never been designed for anything like that. I doubted I’d get more than one hundred yards off-road before I wrecked out. That left me only one option. I had to outrun the truck and pray I reached Miss Serena’s before it reached me.

  Hell, maybe I’d get lucky and he’d pull around me, laughing for having scared the little lady who dared ride a Harley. God, I should be so lucky.

  Except that’s not how my luck ran. Never had and probably never would.

  “Shit!”

  It wasn’t much. A bump. I doubt the pickup driver even felt it. But I did, and it was more than enough. The back wheel slewed to the right. Time slowed and fear almost choked me before I pushed it down. I had two choices, neither good. I could let the bike continue to slew this way and that, knowing it would end with me going head over heels, or I could lay the Harley down and pray. It was a no-brainer. I’d risk the worst case of road rash ever if it meant keeping my head attached to my body.

  Maybe I’d get lucky and the pickup driver wouldn’t decide to run over me as well.

  Chapter 4

  Soft voices floated on the air around me. Scents that brought back memories of my mother tending me the few times I had been sick surrounded me. A man’s voice sounded, soft but insistent, from the distance. Another voice, equally soft, answered. Miss Serena. She said something I couldn’t make out. Then I felt someone next to me. A hand, warm and comforting, rested on me forehead.

  “Shh, Meg. You’re safe. Sleep now. We’ll not let anything else happen to you.”

  Warmth filled me and I went under once again.

  Sometime later, I woke. Instead of voices, music so soft it was barely audible reached me. The familiar scents remained. There was pain, but not nearly as much as there should have been. Slowly, I became aware of other sensations. I lay on a mattress that was both soft and supporting. A sheet covered me. I could feel bandages here and there on my body. Gone was the familiar constriction of my riding leathers. Wherever I was, someone had undressed me.

  That realization brought everything else home. Memory of laying the Harley down and sliding painfully along the asphalt before tumbling over and over again across the road, then the shoulder and down an embankment returned. Fear filled me, as did anger. Someone had caused the accident.

  Accident!

  What a laugh. It had been anything but an accident. The pickup driver had intentionally bumped the back wheel of my Harley. Whether he meant for me to lose control or not didn’t matter. The result of his actions should have been obvious.

  “Easy, Meg. Lie still. You’re safe and your injuries are healing.”

  That brought my eyes open with a snap. Without thinking, I tried to sit up. Pain grabbed at my ribs and too many other places to count. Miss Serena rested a hand against my forehead. Warmth seemed to flow from her palm, easing the pain better and certainly faster than any medication I’d ever taken.

  “W-where am I?”

  Looking around, it quickly became obvious I was most definitely not in the hospital. I lay on an old-fashioned four-poster bed. An oak dresser, a triple dresser if I remembered correctly, rested against the far wall, a framed mirror on top of it. A closed door, possibly leading out of the room or perhaps to a closet, was nearby. Several windows, their drapes drawn, divided the wall to my left. A chair and lamp table sat between them. Muted colors soothed almost as much as the soft music.

  The fact I wasn’t in a hospital was further confirmed by a quick look down. I wore what appeared to be an oversized football jersey instead of what they euphemistically call a hospital gown. Instead of the antiseptic smell associated with hospitals and doctor’s offices, the room smelled of fresh flowers and candles, subtle and soothing. Nope, this was most definitely not the hospital.

  “You’re at my home.” Miss Serena gently helped me sit up. As she did, she placed pillows behind my back. Then she draped what could only be an antique hand-stitched quilt over my legs.

  “How did I get here?” I reached for her hand, waiting until she looked at me. Stiff and sore as I was, I couldn’t imagine not having been taken to the hospital for treatment. Swallowing hard, I wondered how much time had passed. “The last thing I remember is the wreck.”

  “Annie called when you left her office to let me know you were on your way. When you weren’t here half an hour later, I got worried.” She reached out and brushed a lock of hair from my brow. As she did, I realized someone, probably the same someone who had removed my leathers and dressed me in the tee shirt, had unbraided my hair. “To be honest, I had a feeling something might be wrong. I called the sheriff’s office and they dispatched a deputy to check it out. It didn’t take long for him to find your motorcycle lying on the side of the road. You’d fallen down the embankment. As soon as he found you, he called the paramedics and then me.”

  I swallowed again as I remembered tumbling down the side of the road. The fear I’d felt returned. I didn’t need to close my eyes for it all to come rushing back. I’d slid, almost as if I were part of the Harley for several yards before we’d separated. It’s engine whined and the sounds of metal skidding along the pavement mixed with my own cries of pain as I tumbled toward the edge of the road. Pain as skin ripped and burned filled me. I’d tasted blood. Then even more pain blossomed before everything went mercifully dark. The last thing I remembered was the sound of the pickup truck speeding off.

  I blew out a shaky breath and licked my lips, wincing slightly to feel the cuts on the inside of my mouth, not to mention how swollen my mouth happened to. Instantly, Miss Serena reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. She wrapped my fingers around it and watched as I sipped. Then, when I was done, she took the glass, replacing it on the table.

  “How did I get here?” Not that I was complaining. Something told me this was probably one of the safest places I could be right then.

  “The EMTs brought you here and, before you ask, they did it because you needed me, child.”

  Before I could ask what she meant, someone softly knocked. A moment later, the door opened. A tall, dark haired woman stepped inside. She was striking, but it was the sight of the two beautiful Belgium Malinoises, not to mention the badge hooked on her belt, that caught my eye. I steeled myself for accusations and an interrogation. Instead, she crossed the room to stand next to Miss Serena. Then she rested a hand on the older woman’s shoulder and there could be no doubting the affection reflected in her eyes as she bent to lightly kiss Miss Serena’s cheek.

  “I checked the grounds and everything’s secure,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

  “No, child.” Miss Serena smiled at her, one hand reaching up to lightly pat the hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be fine. You know that.”

  “At least let me leave one of the dogs with you.”

  “Excuse me.” I lifted one hand, as if requesting permission to speak. I didn’t like what I was hearing. Why would a cop, at least that’s what I assumed she was, be checking the grounds and offering to leave one of her dogs with Miss Serena? “I really don’t understand what’s going on.”

  The woman glanced at Miss Serena, who nodded in response to some unanswered question.

  “Sorry.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m not trying to scare you. It’s just that I’m a little protective – okay, a little overprotective – of Miss Serena. She’s special to me.”

  I nodded. What else could I do.

  “We’re not doing this very well, Meg. I’m sorry,” Miss Serena said. “Quinn arrived not long after Drew brought you here. When she heard what happened, she insisted on seeing the accident site and then on making sure everything here was secure. She is, as she said, a tad overprotective of those she cares for.”

  I shook my head, feeling as if I was in a play where I didn’t know my role.

  As if realizing how I felt, Quinn removed her badge and slid it into her pocket. That movement may have been her way of telling me she wasn’t there as a cop or it could have si
mply been her way of telling me everything was off the record. But, until I knew for sure, I wasn’t in the mood to say much of anything. Not when my own questions remained unanswered.

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Let me,” Miss Serena said before Quinn could answer. “You were brought here because your injuries were such that Drew, the deputy who responded to the scene, knew I would be of more help than the hospital. The paramedics cleaned the worst of your wounds and bandaged them up. Then they transported you here. Once they brought you inside, my granddaughter and I finished the job they started, and I began healing your wounds.”

  I closed my eyes and let my mind drift. Snatches of memory returned. Strong arms carrying me. Miss Serena’s concerned voice as she told him to take me upstairs. Another voice, also female, sending the man out of the room. Hands, gentle and caring, easing me even as voices began chanting. I could almost see the healing energies. More than that, I sensed the truth in what Miss Serena said.

  “At least she doesn’t look like she wants to run away from the woo-woo part of this,” Quinn said, humor in her voice.

  I opened my eyes and glanced at her. She grinned and then ducked her head, but not before I saw a slight blush color her cheeks.

  “Why would I?”

  “You’ll have to forgive Quinn. Her gifts didn’t manifest until a few months ago. Until then, she thought herself a normal and the woo-woo stuff, as she calls it, made her uncomfortable.” Miss Serena glanced up at her and shook her head. As she did, I had the feeling this was not a new conversation between the two of them. “In fact, the reason she’s here is that she had a lesson scheduled for this afternoon. After learning what happened, she stayed to help.”

  “Thank you.” What else could I say? “You said you went to the crash site?”

  Quinn cocked her head, her expression sharpening. I had no doubt she’d noted my word choice and made a mental note of it.

  “I did. Can you tell me what happened?” The moment she asked, she frowned. “Meg, I’m not with the sheriff’s department. I don’t have jurisdiction or anything and you have no reason to tell me anything. But I want to help, and I didn’t like what I saw out there.”

 

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