At Your Command

  Tom looked at her with mild disdain. She had obviously hurt his feelings. "I have called your mother home. She will arrive at the Minneapolis airport at two ten in the afternoon. Her happiness will arrive a couple of hours later. I cannot be more precise."

  Another moment of panic hit and this one didn't end. When Tom finished the house repairs so quickly, Maggie had assumed that had constituted her second wish. "You'd better be a lot more precise than that. This is my mother we're talking about. What the heck are you planning?"

  Tom settled her back against his chest and she decided not to struggle. Not that she could pull away if he didn't want her to, and besides she was much too comfortable. Maybe they should get takeout tonight. It was hours until sunset. Just her luck. She finally had some reason to enjoy the long winter nights and now they were getting shorter.

  "I am certain my Maggie told me once that she loved surprises. This is a surprise. One I promise you will approve of. You won't have to wait past tomorrow. Besides, you will wish to discuss my conversation with young Andy and you were going to make chili for me now that the weather is warmer."

  Walking back to the house with a warm, strong arm wrapped around her waist, she forgot to worry. For the next few hours she'd be much too busy explaining chili and why it was hot despite how the word sounded. After that, there was bed.

  "CHILI IS VERY HOT." Tom waved at the busload of school kids they passed.

  Maggie ignored him. She hoped by the time they picked up her mother he would have tired of saying it. He took great delight in pointing out the inconsistencies in her world. Just what she needed, a mythological creature lecturing her on logic. Especially since he couldn't seem to tell the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway.

  Tom had tried to convince her that he could drive the car without any instruction, but she didn't want to waste her last wish on picking pieces of herself off the highway.

  "Does this wish have to do with my mother's writing?" she asked. The last twenty-four hours had been an endless game of twenty questions.

  "In a way."

  His evasive answer, along with his smug smile, made her grip the steering wheel more tightly. "If you plan to buy a whole lot of copies of her book to make it a best seller, it won't work. I don't have enough money."

  "Money? No, I don't use money. I can grant a real wish like the cup full with wine in an instant. Discovering what Sarah wanted and bringing her home is what has taken the time. I thought it best to have her at home when she receives it."

  Maggie sighed and passed another bus full of kids on a field trip. Tom waved again. She didn't pump him for more information about her mother. Yesterday, all she'd received for her trouble was the sight of him standing with his arms crossed over his bare chest, solemnly shaking his head. Why did the most loving man she know, not to mention the most attentive in bed, have to be the most stubborn?

  She almost ran off the road when she made the last turn to the airport. Tom blocked most of her view, his upper body over the dashboard of her mother's Honda as he tried to get a better view out the windshield. "Tom, what are you doing?"

  He pointed up.

  "Oh, those are planes. They--"

  "I know what they are. I've only been gone fifty years. We had planes. Where are the propellers? How do they fly."

  She could be enigmatic, too. "Magic."

  He sat back, one eyebrow raised. "I doubt that."

  "You don't want to answer questions. I don't want to answer questions."

  "I'll look it up on the Internet."

  The Internet. The man had spent every waking moment at home, with a few delightful exceptions, on mother's computer. Maybe his idea of making his mother happy was fixing her up with some guy he met on-line. Looking for love in all the wrong places. If that was the case, Maggie would put a stop to it when the time came. The last thing Sarah Yates needed was a man in her life, at least one Tom might find in some lonely-hearts chat room.

  Her irritation grew when she took her ticket stub and waited for the gate to rise and let her into short-term parking.

  "What's that for?" He looked all-innocent again, his eyes wide with curiosity.

  "We have to pay to park." We, what was she saying. She would have to pay, like she and her mother had to pay for everything. Her severance check had gone for new clothes, not for her and job interviews, but for Tom, who couldn't comfortably fit into her brothers' old clothes. And for food. Did all mythological creatures eat so much, or just hers?

  "I don't suppose you have any change in your pockets?"

  "What's change?"

  Damn the man. She couldn't even embarrass him about his failure to contribute. He ran around the back of the car to open her door. The last time they were in town, he'd see Mr. Johnson open his wife's door. She'd broken her leg and couldn't pry herself out of their little Chevy unaided. Tom had decided it was the custom for all ladies.

  "Change is money, something you lack in great quantities." Maggie headed for the terminal. Tom followed behind and slightly to the left. He made her feel like royalty with her own personal protector. A nice feeling in bed, not so nice in public. She stepped back and grabbed his arm, forcing him to walk beside her.

  "Does my Maggie want money? Have you decided on your third wish?" His jaw tightened. A muscle jumped beneath his smooth skin.

  "Why? So I can keep you in the lap of luxury?"

  He stiffened and pulled away, preceding her to open the door. When it opened before he reached it, he ignored it. Stopping just inside, his head bowed, he waited for her to go first.

  Now she had hurt his feelings. She hated it when she did that. Lately, she'd been short tempered. Worrying about money did that to her. He would retreat, tugging on that collar of his, his eyes glazing over. Where did he go to for comfort? She couldn't guess.

  A quick glance at the flight board told her the gate number. This time Tom remembered to walk beside her. The curiosity usually lighting his face wasn't there. He didn't glance at the escalator, but moved to let her pass and stepped on behind her. She hadn't expected him to stand so close, and almost lost her balance when his hand closed around hers.

  When she teetered, he circled her waist with his other arm. She didn't know if he pulled her against him or if she fell, but halfway up the escalator, she was resting her head against his chest. She didn't notice when their ride had ended. Only his arm under her elbow kept her upright.

  "I have been offered a job," he said.

  He couldn't have startled her more if he'd announced he'd sprouted wings.

  "A job? Where? Doing what?"

  "I have refused the offer. It did not seem fair to make a commitment to an employer when I do not know how long you will wish me to stay. If you wish, I could find something temporary to bring home the bacon."

  Maggie almost giggled. She loved the way he picked up new expressions and used old ones in ways they were never intended.

  "I understand I must obtain a number from the government. Something about security."

  "Oh, you mean social security." Wouldn't that be fun? Tom involved with a government agency. He didn't have a birth certificate, no record of entry into the country. No telling what they would do with him. "I think Mom and I can find plenty for you to do at home without you bringing home any bacon."

  Tom lowered his head to stare at the floor again while they waited for Mother to disembark. Maggie would have to find a way to make it up to him. She had been unfair, considering the wonderful goblet he'd given her. The heavy silver plate--solid, sterling, she had no idea which--was covered with intricate details. The jewels could be worth a fortune. She had no way of knowing and couldn't bring it to anyone to find out.

  Maggie grew irritated again. She couldn't have the goblet assessed because every time she dumped out the wine it filled again. When she complained, Tom smiled and told her to be more careful when she made her last wish.

  Maybe she could pry one of the jewels from a dragon's eye and have that appraised. Were the tw
o walnut-sized crystals really diamonds? She hadn't dared ask.

  "Maggie!" Sarah Yates gave her a peck on the check. "And Tom. So nice of you to come too, dear." Tom received a pat on the cheek, a great sign of affection from her mother when bestowed on an unrelated male.

  She didn't seem to notice how quiet Tom was as she chattered away about her conference and condos all the way through baggage and to the car. She stopped only halfway home when Tom fell asleep in the back seat.

  "Is anything wrong, dear?" Sarah whispered to Maggie with a glance at Tom.

  With an adjustment of her rear view mirror, Maggie could see that he was really sleeping, not pretending. She could tell because his face had lost its sharp angles and one hand rested on the collar hidden under his shirt.

  "He must be tired," Maggie said. "He's been staying up late for the past week. Did he say anything to you?"

  "Say anything? What do you mean?"

  "About you coming home. Did he say anything about it?"

  "No, dear. He answered the phone when I called to tell you I'd be home a few days early. He must have told you or you wouldn't have met me."

  "So, he didn't ask you to come home early?"

  "No. Why would he?"

  Maggie managed a smile. "No reason. I must have misunderstood."

  "I understand, dear. These things happen. Is there some reason why he would want me here? Have you two had a fight?"

  "Nothing like that. He just said something about a surprise for you. I guess we'll have to wait and see."

  "A mystery. Now that's nice." Sarah turned to study the countryside as they turned off the freeway from the Cities.

  Maggie couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or telling the truth. Maggie didn't think it was nice at all. Sarah's wish was bound to have a flaw. A big one, like a gorgeous artifact that she couldn't show to anyone.

  Chapter 7

  "THAT WAS SUCH a lovely meal, Tom. Thank you." Sarah's smile touched Tom's heart in a way that felt totally alien. Never had anyone made him feel so at rest. Looking at her, he could almost believe someone had held him in their arms and rocked him to sleep thousands of years ago.

  He glanced at the clock, wondering if he would have to conjure a dessert as part of pretending to grant Sarah's wish. He needed Maggie to think this wish was real. That wouldn't be easy. The foot warming hadn't fooled her, but she'd distracted him. Helping with the groceries, well, he hadn't been trying with that one.

  He had granted her one wish, the goblet. Now he had to make her think he granted her second. That way when she made her next wish, he would be free. She wouldn't know to make her last wish and send him to the abyss. All he had to do was live near her for the rest of their lives. That would be no sacrifice at all. He would make up some story about having successfully served a hundred masters and how she had broken his curse. His naive little Maggie would believe any story he told her.

  "If the ladies would like to adjourn to the sitting room, I will bring dessert," Tom announced.

  Maggie signaled him over her mother's head. He indicated they should leave. When Maggie and Sarah went to the living room, he slipped out the back door and circled around to the front. He would have to think of some dessert. The fool was late.

  Tom tromped back to the kitchen in disgust. He had explained to the man why he had to be on time. At least he'd told him to arrive promptly at 6 o'clock. He hadn't explained anything really, and the man took no convincing. Tom merely spoke Sarah Yates' name, and he said he was on his way.

  Not Sarah Yates, literally, but Sarah Nelson. That had given Tom some trouble. First, he'd had to discover her maiden name, which he found on the back page of her book. When Maggie made her wish, he had no idea how to make her mother happy. The book had provided the key--her last name and a story of love.

  "Sugar scones," he announced. Maggie immediately frowned.

  What the hell had he done wrong now? At least Mother Sarah seemed happy enough, just surprised. "Would you ladies like coffee?" Please, someone, ask for tea.

  His silent plea went unanswered, but while in the kitchen he heard the taxi pull into the drive. He had barely time to rush to the living room and stand behind Sarah's back to pretend to grant her wish.

  Maggie's eyes grew wide while she watched him. When her surprise turned to fear, he almost rushed to her. After thousands of years terrifying masters, he finally had one he didn't want to fear him. He tried to reassure her with a brief smile, then crossed his arms over his chest and gathered the forces of creation to him, nothing flashy enough to draw Sarah's attention. The brief flurry of wind and his glowing fingers were enough to convince Maggie. She jumped up and looked behind her chair.

  His naive little Maggie. What did she think? He hid happiness behind a rocker? Everyone knew the best things came in cabs. He conjured a cup of steaming orange tea and let Sarah answer the door.

  He didn't bother to watch for her reaction. He was certain what that would be. He had, after all, been a student of humans for centuries, a malevolent one most of the time, but a student none the less. Humans were nothing if not predictable. All except his Maggie. She baffled him. What would make her happy? What wish when granted would send her heart home, where she could find the most amount of peace possible while still in this plane?

  He and Maggie stood on the wrong side of the open door. All they heard was a voice in response to Sarah's gasp.

  "Sarah Nelson. You are still the most beautiful woman ever to wear a Navy uniform." The scratchy male voice turned Sarah's cheeks pink. "I've come to say good-bye."

  "I haven't worn a uniform in almost thirty years," Sarah said.

  "I know. It's been a long time. I would have changed that if I could."

  "I doesn't matter now, dear. Besides, you haven't changed a bit. It's just dreadful how you men can disappear and come back decades later without aging a day." Finally, Sarah moved aside and the man Tom had spoken to on the telephone stepped into the room.

  Sarah looked startled to find they weren't alone. "Oh, Glenn, this is my daughter, my oldest child, Maggie."

  GLENN HAD AN infectious smile that Maggie tried to ignore. She allowed him to pump her limp arm, but couldn't find the strength to speak. Is he real? Alive? Why is Mom acting like she knows him?

  For a moment, Maggie thought he was going to hug her mother, but Sarah turned away. "I think I'll show Glenn the garden."

  Tom grabbed Maggie's arm when she tried to follow. He swore under his breath when his tea sloshed on her hand.

  She hardly notice it burn. "What have you done?" she demanded.

  "Let's get some cold water on that. You don't want to waste your last wish on something as simple as a burn."

  By the time they reached the kitchen, Mom and Glenn, whoever he was, were already in the backyard. "Why would she want to show him the garden? She hasn't planted anything this year."

  Tom turned on the tap full force and put her hand under the faucet. "They go to the garden for the same reason my Maggie makes me wait until we are alone to kiss. They require privacy. Is that why we kiss in private or are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

  Maggie recognized the hurt in his voice, but worry about her mother crowded out her concern. She moved to the side of the sink so her mother couldn't see her through the window.

  "What are you talking about?" she said. "Why would she want to be alone with that man? She's only had one man in her life, my father. She married him twenty-eight years ago."

  "She had a life before that, didn't she?"

  Tom must be acting dense on purpose. Maggie pulled her hand away. The tea hadn't been very hot. The skin was barely red. She took the cup Tom held in his hand and dumped the contents down the drain. When the smell of cloves and oranges rose from the sink, she realized he hadn't been drinking their usual coffee. Where had he gotten this stuff? It smelled very soothing. She almost relaxed against the counter. Tom's hand folded around hers.

  When she looked up, she found him looking with regret at the
water that spun down the drain. "I wish you hadn't done that."

  "You wish? I want to talk about my wish, or Sarah's wish, or whatever your story is this time. I want to know who that man is and what he has to do with my mother."

  Tom took her by the shoulders and turned her to face the back window. Still, she didn't look up.

  "What are you afraid of, Maggie? Look."

  It took Tom's hand on her chin, gently coaxing. Sarah was the word that came to her mind, not Mother. The woman in the garden didn't look maternal, but maybe that was because always before Maggie had been looking at her through a daughter's eyes.

  Today, Sarah looked younger than her fifty-five years in the Kelly green suit she'd worn on the flight, and it wasn't just because she'd dyed her gray hair. She still looked plump and soft, but graceful when she raised her hand to touch Glenn's cheek. Her smile was young and eager, and it was directed at this thing Tom had conjured.

  Conjured like he'd conjured the silver goblet with the endless supply of wine. The man might look and act real but something was wrong with him. Something had to be.

  Glenn looked mid-fifties maybe. A little less than six feet tall, fit, trim, and a military haircut. Gray more than just around the edges, full salt-and-pepper. His clothes had a military cut about them too. Jeans, white dress shirt, and a leather jacket. Not formal dress, but immaculate and pressed. Everything in place. He had a kind face, one that broke into wrinkles when he smiled.

  Those wrinkles vanished when he bent toward her mother.

  "What have you done, Tom? What on earth have you done?"

  When Glenn's lips met Sarah's, Tom pulled her away. "Come with me upstairs. I'll tell you all about it."

  It didn't seem right leaving her mother there alone. When her Mother's arms circled Glenn's waist, Maggie turned of her own volition.

  Before they got halfway up the stairs, the doorbell rang. Her heart jumped in her chest. Not another one. What had Tom done? Ordered a male harem for her mother? He looked puzzled when she glared at him and stomped down the stairs. She was onto his trick. That puzzled, innocent little boy look was all an act. He was up to something.