A Stroke Of Magic (13 page)

She shook her head, her hair billowing around her like a cloud. “Trust me. You’ll never believe in your heart, in your soul, that this man truly is your soul mate unless you fall in love with him entirely on your own.”

“Okay…but why now? Why this particular time to warn me?”

Her ghostly body rippled with a shiver. “Your heart was broken, Alice. You wouldn’t have gone looking for the right man for a very long time. The timeline here is essential, so the warning was needed to push you along. But I can’t tell you anything else. In this area, I’ve interfered as much as I’m allowed.” She snorted in a very human manner. “We have rules we must follow.”

“Seriously? Rules?”

“If I want to stay here—and I do—then yes. I must follow certain rules. But that’s neither here nor there. What’s important is that you believe in what I have told you, that it’s vital you find your soul mate before your daughter is born. If you believe nothing else, believe this.”

“That’s it? That’s all you can say? I’m truly on my own in this?”

Turning her head so that her brown eyes met mine, my great-great-great-grandmother stared at me. She didn’t speak right away, but the silence wasn’t unnerving. Instead, calmness seeped in and annoyance drifted away. “You’re not on your own,” she said. “Your magic, your power, will give you answers as you need them. Trust in that, and use it to help you find your way.”

She was talking in riddles, and that annoyed me. “None of that makes sense! None of that helps. What happens if I don’t find him? And how will I know if I do?”

She laughed her tinkling laugh. “Such an impatient one you are. There’s so much more you need to know, more I will be able to share—but not quite yet. Remember what I said. Find him, Alice. It really is within your power.”

My eyes watered, so I blinked. In the space of that blink, Miranda disappeared. “Great,” I muttered. “You could have at least said good-bye.”

Knowing sleep was definitely not going to happen now, I turned the television back on, more for the noise than for entertainment. My mind once again went over everything I knew, every detail. She’d said to trust in the magic, so maybe whatever I needed to do I hadn’t done yet. More wishes? More drawings? I unfolded the blanket draped over the back of the couch and lay down. Maybe if I stared at the TV long enough, I’d fall asleep. If I were really lucky, maybe I’d wake up in the morning with the answer.

One could always hope.

Grant and Shelby Harris lived in a neighborhood teeming with kids, pets, beautiful houses, manicured lawns, and blooming spring flowers. Their house was a pale yellow Cape Cod-style home with brilliant blue shutters, a matching door, and a vibrant splash of tulips and daffodils lining their front walk. It was as if we’d left the real world and somehow driven into an alternative universe that wasn’t exactly
The Stepford Wives
but was pretty darn close.

Ethan pulled into Shelby’s driveway. Chloe had decided to drive herself—probably so she’d have an easy escape route if she deemed it necessary. I couldn’t blame her. Besides, it had given me the opportunity to explain a few things to Ethan on the ride over.

“Chloe dated Kyle; then Shelby dated Kyle. Now they’re only friends and Chloe hasn’t seen either of them in years, but will today at the cookout. Anything else I need to know?” Ethan tucked his car keys in the pocket of his jeans. “I feel like I should take notes,” he teased.

Wow. What had taken me fifteen minutes to say, he’d distilled down to one sentence. “No, those are the basics. I wanted you to know the background, in case there are some weird undercurrents.” I’d left out far more than I’d shared, because it was private, but the little I’d told him had made me want to confide all of my secrets to him. The magic. Miranda. All of it. Of course, I hadn’t. Based on our conversation at Frosty’s, he didn’t hold the supernatural in high regard. So, for now, I had secrets I’d keep to myself.

Unbuckling his seat belt, he angled his body toward me. My heart beat a little faster. Mark Twain once said, “Clothes make the man,” but in Ethan’s case, the opposite was true. Even in casual clothes—faded blue jeans and a navy sweatshirt—he looked just as dashing, just as sexy, just as male as he normally did. No dark stubble covered his jaw today, which was a pity. I liked that rough and tumble look. But he was still hot, clean-shaven jaw and all.

His eyes met mine and I thought—maybe—that he was going to kiss me. My stomach did a somersault. He leaned closer, and I slanted myself forward too.

“Ready to go in?” he asked, unbuckling my seat belt before reaching across me to open my door.

“Oh. Um. Sure.” No kiss, but at least I’d gotten to sniff him without him realizing. Not such a bad trade-off. But when I stepped from the car, my knees almost buckled. Somehow, I managed to stay upright.

Chloe parked in the street in front of Shelby’s house, instead of in the driveway. I recognized the maneuver for what it was. She didn’t want to get stuck behind someone else’s car. Again, I didn’t blame her. That morning, we’d both laughed over the fuss I’d made at the mall, because when push came to shove, I went with my standard jeans (albeit a new pair) and a long-sleeved red tunic.

She wasn’t laughing now. When she reached us, my heart went out. Her pale complexion told me she was even more nervous than I.

Ethan must have noticed too, because he tucked one of his arms through mine, and his other through hers. “I’m a lucky guy, escorting two such beautiful women,” he remarked.

Chloe shot him a smile. A real one, because it reached her eyes. “You’re very sweet to say that.”

“Just stating the truth,” he responded. And then, arm in arm, we walked to the front door.

Even though I’d already known Ethan was a good guy, this gesture, as small as it was, made it even more apparent. Soul mate or not, I was lucky to have met him.

Disengaging my arm from his, I rang the bell and then wiped my palms on my pants. Shelby opened the door almost immediately—so fast, she must have been watching for us through the window. Dressed in khaki capris and a long white billowy blouse, she had the same cover-model perfection from the other day going for her. She still looked tired though, and while I wouldn’t have thought it possible, her belly seemed even larger. “Hi, Alice! This must be Ethan? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Shelby.” After he nodded, she said, “And Chloe, I’m glad you decided to come. It’s great to see you again.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Chloe replied, her voice polite but with zero warmth. “You have a beautiful home.”

“I second that sentiment,” Ethan said.

“It’s nice to see you,” I offered. “And Chloe’s right. I love the flowers.”

Shelby blushed as she motioned us inside. “Well, thank you. And welcome. Grant’s playing with the grill. He can’t seem to get it fired up.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

We trailed behind her. Hardwood floors graced the entryway and hall, gleaming as if they’d just been polished. The hallway opened up into a large and airy kitchen. The floor, counters, and appliances were all white, but baskets of dried flowers, pictures, and candles placed throughout made the room warm and inviting.

Shelby nodded toward the sliding door on the other side of the kitchen. “Grant’s out back. Come say hi, so he doesn’t think we’re ignoring him.”

As soon as we stepped outside, Grant quit fussing with the knob on the grill and stood straight. His smile was wide, sincere. After the introductions were complete, we all stood in a slightly awkward half circle. I tried to think of something to say or do that would break the ice. Sadly, I came up blank.

Grant stepped up. Turning to Chloe, he said, “It’s great meeting Shelby’s friends from high school. You’ve known each other for a while, right?”

Chloe blinked. I nudged her. Inconspicuously, of course. “Um. We met in grade school, actually.”

“Over a game of hopscotch. Remember?” Shelby asked, trying to follow her husband’s lead.

That pulled a grin from Chloe. “That’s right. We kicked butt.”

But then the silence returned, and I shifted from one foot to another. Man, the rest of the day was going to be painful if something didn’t change. I tried drawing attention to the covered pool in the very back of the yard. “Hey, that’s a great pool.”

“Thanks!” Grant said. “Too bad it’s not warm enough today to enjoy it. You’ll have to come later in the summer when it’s hot enough to use. Isn’t that right, Shel?”

“Oh, yes! That would be fun!” But then came more silence. Shelby fidgeted, as if trying to find something else to say. It didn’t seem like she came up with anything. “Okay, you guys chat. I need to finish up the potato salad. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’ll get them whatever they need, hon,” Grant promised. “Maybe Chloe can help you in the kitchen? That way you two can catch up. Since it’s been such a long time.” He winked at my friend. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Humor at the ludicrousness of the whole situation bubbled up inside me. I fought it. However, as Chloe hadn’t yet responded, I tilted my head toward the kitchen. “That’s a great idea! Go catch up. We’ll be fine out here.”

She sent me a look that told me exactly how unhappy she was, but she nodded and played along. “Sure. I’m happy to help.”

When Shelby and Chloe were gone, Grant gave me a look. I grinned, realizing what he’d done. “Remind me never to get on your bad side. You’re a little sneaky.”

“Not so much sneaky as proactive. Shel’s been worried about talking to her, and I’m guessing by Chloe’s reaction that she’s had the same worries. Might as well let them hash it out so we can have a good day.” He grimaced at the grill. “Of course, we might not be eating if I can’t fix this.”

“Shelby said it’s not firing up. No idea what’s wrong with it?” Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets even as a gleam of interest whisked over him. I knew what that meant: the male bonding ritual was about to take place. I took a step backward.

“We haven’t used it yet this year, and it’s not cooperating.” Grant scratched his head. “Do you know anything about propane grills?”

“Nope, but we can probably figure it out. How hard can it be?”

In seconds, they were engrossed in the nonfunctioning grill, not much different from two little boys playing with a really cool toy. While it was kind of cute, I wasn’t sure what to do, myself. Going inside and interrupting whatever conversation Chloe and Shelby were embroiled in was a bad idea, but standing too close to two men screwing around with flammable objects held no appeal, either. After all, both had the possibility of exploding in my face.

I settled for sitting at the long table on the far end of the deck. It was enough of a distance away to offer me some safety, and for the moment I let myself relax and enjoy my surroundings. The backyard was as well taken care of as the front. What would it be like to live in a home like this, with a husband and two babies on the way? The thought of it was so far out of my realm of reality that I couldn’t decide if it was something I’d want or not.

The husband part was easy, because if the guy was right, I could definitely do the marriage thing—I didn’t have any doubts about that. Rather, it was the house part, the yard part, the living the so-called American dream part. For most of my life, I hadn’t wanted those things. I loved living in the city, so even moving to Grandma Verda’s condo had taken some getting used to.

But this? I tried to imagine myself in Shelby’s place. Tried to see myself coming home every day to her neighborhood, to this house and everything that came with it. I couldn’t. And what did that say about me? I was having a kid; shouldn’t I want this stuff?

“Hello, beautiful.” An unknown voice interrupted my musings, followed by a long, slow whistle.

I blinked, pushed everything away and brought myself back to the real world. A man stood in front of me. My eyes whisked over him, taking in his appearance in one full sweep. His black jeans were a smidge too tight, as was his black T-shirt. And I don’t mean in a hot, sexy way, either. More like he wore clothing two sizes too small. Not much taller than me—I’d put him at about five feet ten inches. He had light brown hair, light eyes, sunglasses pushed up on top of his head, and a million-watt smile. Sadly, no third eye or hairy mole. Kyle Ackers had arrived.

Apparently, I’d taken too long to respond, because he whistled again. “I’m talking to you, gorgeous.”

Pursing my lips so I wouldn’t laugh, I nodded. “Hi, Kyle. Did you just get here?”

He pulled out a chair and sat down. White teeth gleamed in another light-bulb smile. “Yep. Came in through the garage. You’re…Alice, right?”

“Right.”

Kyle stared at me, as if trying to find my face in his memory. “We dated? I’m sorry, but I don’t recall going out with you. Though you do look a little familiar.” His grin faded to something more realistic, if a little sheepish.

“Oh, no. We never dated.” Damn it. Shelby had obviously forgotten to correct that bit of information.

“I thought Shelby said we did. That’s why she was so up on us getting together again.” He winked. “Not that I mind. You’re a doll.”

Yeah. Doll. Whatever. “She was mistaken. You dated my friend Chloe. For almost two years. In high school.”

“Chloe Nichols?” He slapped his forehead. His sunglasses nearly fell off, but he caught them and set them on the table. “Now I remember you! You’re Alice Raymond!” Another whistle. “Wow. You look really good.”

I fidgeted again. “Um…thank you.” There was no way he didn’t remember me. Unless he’d had a brain injury in the last decade. Which, taking his current behavior into account, was entirely possible. “Chloe’s actually here. Right now. In the kitchen.” I motioned in the general direction, hoping he’d get a clue and go find her. Because Kyle did nothing for me. Nothing at all. Which should have relieved me, but it didn’t. For that to happen, I’d need to see his shoulder.

He either ignored the hint about Chloe or didn’t realize it was a hint, because he leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. As if he planned on staying a while. Lucky me.

“Cool. Shelby said you’re pregnant and the dad isn’t involved. That must be wild.”

“Yes. Wild,” I concurred. Quirking my head to the side, I tried to catch Ethan’s gaze but didn’t manage. He appeared heavily focused on the little tube thing that ran from the propane tank to the grill. Grant was messing with the knob again. I scooted my chair a little farther back. For safety reasons.

“What do you do for a living? You could be a model. Or an actress.” Kyle leaned over the side of his chair and peered under the table. “Definitely a model. You have the legs for it.”

“I’m wearing jeans. You can’t see my legs.”

“But they’re long. Long enough to be a model.”

“Well, I’m not. But thanks. I think. I’m an artist at an advertising company.” I nodded toward Ethan. “See that guy over there with Grant? I work with him. He came here with me today.” Another hint. Another hint that Kyle let slip right by.

“Cool,” he said again. “Have you thought about modeling? Stand up and spin around.”

Was this guy for real? “No, thanks.”

“Aw, come on.” He stood and then, before I realized what he was doing, pulled me to my feet. “There, just spin around. Let me see what you got.”

“If I spin, I’ll get dizzy.” I returned to my seat. “Did you hear me say that Chloe’s inside? I bet she’d like to say hi.” I curled my fingers into a fist, so I wouldn’t wave him off like you do a pesky insect.

“I definitely want to see her, but let’s talk more. Shelby hooked us up, and I don’t want to annoy her. Ever since she’s been pregnant, ticking her off isn’t a good idea.” Rubbing his arm with his other hand, he shrugged. “She has a solid punch.”

Now here was an image I enjoyed. My lips twitched. “You probably deserved it. What did you do?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t deserve it.” He picked his chair up and set it down at an angle. Resuming his seat, he stretched his legs out, crossing them at his ankles. “I stopped by last week with tickets to a ball game. Thought me and Grant could go, have a few beers, hang out for a few hours. He was stuck at work.”

“That’s it?”

“Nah. I hadn’t seen her in a while, and—” He fiddled with his sunglasses. “There should be a manual that tells guys what not to say to pregnant women.”

I gave in and grinned. “What did you say?”

His eyes shifted away from mine. “Are you gonna punch me too?”

I laughed. Okay, so the guy wasn’t my type, but he wasn’t all bad. “Maybe,” I admitted. “Because if it had to do with her size, you’re in trouble. You can’t talk about a woman’s size ever. Especially when she’s pregnant.”