Easy Magic

by Kristen Proby

  “That’s a lot,” she says, hugging her knees to her chest. In the past twenty minutes, she’s withdrawn from me.

  This won’t be tolerated.

  But she’s stubborn, like me, so I can’t just demand that she speak.

  Why are women so difficult?

  We sit in silence for a while, watching the waves and the sea birds.

  “I can’t change the fact that my family is wealthy,” I say at last. She whips her gaze to mine.

  “I’m not—”

  “I understand that it’s unusual, and I can see where it could be intimidating for many people, but damn it, I work very hard. I won’t apologize for being successful.”

  “No.” She stands and straddles my lap, holding my face in her hands. “I’m not asking you to apologize for that, and I never would. You’re right, it’s a lot to take in, but it’s who you are, and I respect you very much.”

  I plant my hands on her back, holding her close.

  “Then tell me what’s wrong. Why did you pull away just now? What did I say that’s bothering you?”

  “Are you sure that you’re not the psychic?” She asks, trying to smile. I wait, watching emotions roll over her face. Finally, her shoulders drop and she looks at me with tear-filled eyes. “It’s dumb.”

  “No, it’s not dumb, baby.”

  She nods. “Yeah, it is. But I can’t help it.”

  I brush a tear away with my thumb. Seeing her cry is killing me.

  “What is it?”

  She bites her lip and then says, “I don’t want to think about another woman having your babies. It just makes me sad and jealous and then I get pissed, and that’s dumb because you want babies and someone should have them for you.”

  I try to speak, but now that she’s talking, she’s not stopping, so I decide not to interrupt.

  “I know that I’m not the woman who will have kids with you, and some day I won’t see you or your family any more, and that’s sad to me because I really like all of you. But when you decide to move on, it’ll be awkward for me to still be friends with the girls, and I’m really going to miss them.”

  “Wow, this is a lot of thinking,” I say with a sigh and pull her down into my arms, cradling her. “Shh, Mal. You’re getting worked up over things that aren’t happening.”

  “But they will. I don’t have to be psychic to know it.”

  Bullshit. I’m completely in love with you. I’m not going anywhere, and when the time is right to have children, it’s going to be with you.

  But she’s not ready to hear those words yet, and frankly, I’m not ready to say them.

  “This is ours,” I remind her. “And it’s right here.”

  She nods, and fists her hand in my shirt, holding on. I tighten my hold on her and kiss the crown of her head.

  “I’m right here, baby.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  ~Mallory~

  I loved being in Florida with Beau, but it’s good to be home. The shop ran well without me, and I don’t know if that makes me proud, or feel a little like I’m useless.

  I’m going to choose pride.

  Beau is sound asleep beside me, resting peacefully. He doesn’t snore, at least not that I’ve ever heard. Although, I’m usually asleep too. I’ve found that since I’ve been with Beau, I rarely have insomnia.

  I think it’s because I feel so safe when I’m with him that sleep comes easily.

  But not tonight. I’m physically exhausted. It’s been a busy week at work, and I started going to the gym with Lena. I’m not sure why, other than she begged because she doesn’t like to go alone, and that way I get to see her more.

  But she likes to go at six in the morning, before school, so basically she hates me.

  I snort and shake my head at myself. I guess I’m a bit dramatic when I’m tired and I can’t sleep. Maybe I should wake Beau for a round two?

  I glance over at him and feel myself soften. He’s so relaxed, I don’t have the heart to wake him. And, round one was something to write home about, so I really have nothing to complain about.

  So I reach for my journal and begin writing about my day. I like to keep a gratitude journal, where I talk about all of the positive things that happened that day, or whenever I have the time to spend with it. We always remember all of the bad things that happen. I certainly don’t have to write those down.

  But I want to remember the good as well.

  I’m only one page in when my eyes are too heavy and unfocused to continue, so I set it aside, lie down, and give in to sleep.

  I blink my eyes open and reach over to turn out the light, but movement from the corner of the room has me sitting upright and scowling.

  “I don’t allow spirits in this house.”

  The tall man, sitting in my grandmother’s rocking chair, simply smiles and pats his knee in time with the rhythm of the chair.

  “I know, and I’m sure sorry for intruding, but you’re a tough woman to catch up with.”

  I tilt my head to the side, no longer afraid, but interested to know who this is.

  “I’m Beau’s Papa, Beauregard Boudreaux.” He smiles and nods his head toward me. “And you’re the beautiful woman who has captured his heart.”

  “Beau’s daddy is a romantic?” I ask with a smile and leave the bed. I glance back at Beau to see that he’s still asleep.

  “This is a dream, Mallory. He can’t hear us. But we’re leaving anyway. I have some things to show you.”

  He winks and stands, holds his hand out for mine, and when I slip it in his grasp, we’re suddenly not in my house anymore.

  “Where are we?”

  “When are we,” he replies with a wink. “I thought I’d show you some of my memories.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love my family, and it seems that you’re going to be a part of them now. You’re a lucky girl.”

  “I know that they’re wealthy—”

  “For Christ’s sake, child. You’re way too focused on the money. That’s not why you’re lucky.” He shakes his head, and I feel like a scolded child. “These people are the most loving, supportive, caring people you could ever have in your life.”

  “But you’re not biased,” I reply with a laugh, and then look where he’s pointing. There’s a woman, about my age, chopping vegetables and giving orders to three children.

  “Charly, that’s perfect. You’re sure learning my gumbo recipe quickly. Your daddy will love it.”

  The little girl’s smile shines with excitement. “It’s special.”

  “If you want to know why I’m a romantic,” Mr. Boudreaux says as he watches the woman, “it’s because of her. The love of my life. We were married for almost four decades when I left. I would have been married for a million more, if it meant I got to be with her.”

  I glance away from the children and watch him. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Inside and out,” he agrees with a nod. “Much better than I ever deserved. But she gave me six gorgeous children, was by my side through thick and thin. And let me tell you, there was a lot of thin, and no, I don’t mean financially. I’m human, so I wasn’t perfect, but I loved her the best way I knew how.”

  “Who are the other two children?” I ask.

  “Eli and Declan. Charly and Eli were always inseparable. They’re still close.”

  “You watch over them.”

  “Of course I do,” he says with a smile. “They’re my crew. And now you’re part of that crew as well.”

  “I love him,” I whisper, surprised that I said it aloud. “It’s been hard to admit that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think he deserves better than me,” I reply and watch Mrs. Boudreaux with her children. They’re smiling, laughing, enjoying their time together. “I don’t think I can give him what you had.”

  “Nonsense,” he replies. “If you love each other, you make the rest work. I’m going to tell you what I told my own children all of their lives; you ca
n’t control the wind, but you can adjust your sails. You’ll set the right course for you as a couple.”

  “I threw up on the boat,” I reply in horror. “I’m not a good sailor.”

  He tips his head back and laughs, right from the belly, making me smile too. “Our Gabby doesn’t have the stomach for it either. But the analogy works all the same.”

  I sigh, nod, and follow him when he leaves the kitchen, headed toward the living room. We’re still in their home, but time has passed because the children are older.

  “Is that Ben?” I ask, pointing at a skinny boy who’s sitting with Savannah. They’re reading together. I’d recognize her anywhere.

  “It is,” he says with a nod. “I loved that boy as if he were my own. He’s grown into a good man, on his own path, just like all of my children.”

  “He looks at Savannah with a lot of love in his eyes,” I remark.

  “He still does,” he agrees. “I wish my daughter would open her eyes and see it. That she would accept it. They need each other.”

  “She’ll accept it when she’s ready,” I reply. “I’ve felt it when she and I are together. I can’t tell the future, but I know that you’re right. They’re for each other, but it won’t happen until she’s ready for it. I don’t think she’d know what to do with those feelings quite yet.”

  I look up at him and see the sadness in his eyes, and I know that he knows.

  “Her ex-husband hurt her,” I say simply.

  “And I wasn’t here to kill him,” he replies, then glances down at me. “He’s going to try to hurt her again before it’s all done.”

  “And Ben will be there,” I reply, then rub his arm, wanting to reassure him. “He’ll be there.”

  He nods and leads me to another room again, and I can see that more time has passed.

  “Is that Gabby?”

  “Yes, my poor sweet girl.” His face is soft with love as he looks at his youngest daughter. “She’s a good girl, who made a bad decision and got herself into trouble.”

  We’re in Gabby’s bedroom, and she’s sitting at the head of the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, and she’s crying.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s pregnant with our Sam,” he says. “She was so frightened to tell me, afraid of what I might think of her.” He shakes his head, as if the thought bewilders him. “I could only ever love her, Mallory. Our actions don’t just affect us, and I won’t say that it wasn’t hard on the family to have Sam arrive when he did, but we adjusted those sails and went where the wind took us.”

  “She’s a great mom,” I reply, remembering what Beau told me about her.

  “She really is,” he agrees and leads me down the hall to another bedroom. We walk inside, and many years have passed now. Mr. Boudreaux is lying in the bed, and Beau is a grown man, sitting next to him.

  “Here,” he says to Beau, holding up a coin. “This was one of two of the first dollars made in our company. I’m going to give the other one to Eli, since the two of you are running it now.”

  “Papa,” Beau says, his voice cracking with emotion. “You’re going to get well. You’ll be back in your office before you know it.”

  “We both know that isn’t true,” his father says as he gently lays the coin in Beau’s hand. “So I need to say some things to you.”

  “I won’t say goodbye to you,” Beau says adamantly.

  “I understand. I’m not quite ready for that either. But I do want to tell you how damn proud I am of you, son. You and all of your siblings are exceptional people. I couldn’t want more. I know that you will take care of your mother and the others.”

  “Papa—”

  “Thank you, Beau. Thank you for being my son, and my friend. I admire you. Great things are in store for you, my boy.”

  Beau simply nods, unable to speak, and my heart breaks for him. I know what it is to know that the person you love and admire most is about to leave you forever.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

  “It was hard on all of us,” he says to me and pats my shoulder. “I wasn’t ready to leave, and they weren’t ready to say goodbye. I don’t know if it’s fair to say it was hardest on Beau, because it was difficult in different ways for each of them. But, he definitely shouldered a burden, as the eldest of the family, to step into my shoes.”

  “They’re big shoes to fill,” I reply with a smile.

  “All my boys wear the same size,” he says and leads me out of the room, away from a crying man, grieving for his father. “And they’re doing quite well filling the shoes.”

  We pass a room where the music from a saxophone plays loudly.

  “And that’s my Declan, always losing himself in music. It’s how he copes.”

  “He’s amazing. I got to hear him at his wife’s bar not long ago. He’s a talented man.”

  “That he is. I will sometimes go listen to him when I’m lonesome for him. It helps me feel better.”

  “Mr. Boudreaux, why are you still here? You can move on. You don’t have to stay and miss them all so much.”

  “I won’t leave my love,” he replies and when I look around, I see that we’re back in my bedroom, and I’m fast asleep in my bed. “I want to look in on my family, Mallory. I sometimes come to them in their dreams, and I can see them live their lives, marry their own loves, have children. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “They miss you,” I reply, then rise up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “They miss you just as much.”

  He smiles gently. “I know.”

  I wake slowly, blinking against the bright sunshine coming through the window. Beau’s not in the bed anymore, and the linens are cool where he was, so he’s been up for a while.

  I glance over to see the rocking chair barely rocking and I smile, remembering my time with Beau’s father.

  What a special gift, to be introduced to his family through his eyes.

  I leave the bed, wrap a robe around me, and go in search of Beau. I find him down in the living room, his laptop on his lap and his phone pressed to his ear.

  “Yes, I can make that deadline. Make sure my assistant is cc’d in the email so she can add it to my calendar. Thank you.”

  He ends the call and I curl up next to him, rest my head on his shoulder, and hug his arm.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Oh yes.” I kiss his shoulder, then hug him again.

  “Funny, I can smell my father.”

  I glance up and smile at him. “We just had a lovely chat.”

  “Did you?” He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “You must have been dreaming.”

  I lay my head back on his shoulder. “Is the coin in your pocket?”

  He stills. “Excuse me?”

  “The coin. Is it in your pocket?”

  He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the dollar coin, holding it up for me to see. “This coin?”

  “That’s the one. Your father is a smart man, Beau.”

  I feel him sigh, and his hand is a bit shaky when he returns the coin to his pocket.

  “Jesus, Mallory.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to scare you.”

  “Not scaring me,” he mutters and kisses my head. “But you’re full of surprises.”

  ***

  “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mallory,” Beau’s mother says the following Sunday. “I’m glad you could join us for dinner. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Thank you for having me,” I reply. Mrs. Boudreaux is petite like her daughters, with salt and pepper hair and a warm smile. I immediately like her. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you as well.”

  “Well, then, we should chat and get to know each other better.” She loops her arm through mine, and I’m immediately hit with feelings of deep love. This woman adores her family. “Are you from around here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My best friend’s grandmother said she went to school with your eldest sister.”

  “Rea
lly? What is her name?”

  “Sophia Turner,” I reply and raise my chin for the blow to come when she remembers her. She tilts her head for a moment, trying to remember, and then her eyes light with the memory.

  “I think I remember her. Did she have pretty blonde hair? About my height?”

  “She still does,” I reply with a nod.

  “Oh, we must have them join us for dinner sometime,” she replies with a genuine smile. Not one ounce of disgust in her voice.

  “I’m sure she and Lena would enjoy that.”

  “Lena’s a hoot and a half,” Charly says from the stove. “I’m making Mama’s gumbo tonight, sugar. I hope you like it.”

  “You’ve been making it for years,” I reply before I can stop myself, and then decide to roll with it. “I’m sure it’s great.”

  The house looks pretty much the same as my dream, aside from some updating and color changes through the years. It’s inviting and homey, and I can feel Mr. Boudreaux here, but that’s it. No other spirits are here.

  “I don’t like green beans,” a young boy says with a frown.

  “This is Sam,” Gabby says and ruffles his hair. “You liked green beans just fine last week when we had them.”

  “Geen,” the little girl in Gabby’s arms says with a smile, showing off a mouth full of tiny teeth.

  “You like green beans, baby girl,” Mrs. Boudreaux says as she kisses the baby’s head and takes her from Gabby’s arms. “This is Ailish. She’s almost a year old now, and likes to repeat everything her brother says.”

  “She’s beautiful.” I smile at the little girl, who suddenly gets shy and hides her face against her grandmother’s neck.

  “Where are the boys?” Van asks as she tosses a salad.

  “They’re out back,” I reply. “Beau said they had some work to talk about.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Clearly not because I’m not out there with them. They’re talking about you.”