The Magic Touch (14 page)

“Grandma can be pretty formal,” Ray admitted. Rose smiled at him.

“You two are very special to each other,” she said. “When she started taking care of you when you were just a little baby, she was happy. Your parents were sorry to burden her with their child, but she didn’t mind at all. She enjoyed raising another one, especially one as interesting as you. I think you have a special bond with her.”

“Yeah, I guess we do.” His parents had been very young when they got married, and it was only a short time before Ray was born. Finances prevented either one from being able to stay at home with their new child. It had seemed a natural thing for his widowed grandmother to come and live with them, and take care of baby Raymond. She had virtually primary care of him until he had started school. Their relationship was different than Ray’s with his parents. She understood him when no one else did, not all that surprising for the woman who had witnessed his first steps, heard his first word, and read him, at two a night, more than 3,650 bedtime stories.

After Ray, the surprise, his parents had delayed having further children. By the time the other kids came along, the parents had more time to spend with them. Ray was a little jealous of the interest they took in their two younger offspring, even as he acknowledged how unfair it was to blame his parents for their youth and poverty when he was born. For their part, Bobby and Chanel were a little jealous of his closeness to Grandma Eustatia. She took his part sometimes when his parents didn’t see things his way. Not that Grandma ever showed favor to one grandchild over another, but he and she had a familiarity between them that was impossible to duplicate. Her influence became diluted as the family’s fortunes improved to the point where her daughter could be at home more, and her son-in-law was able to take time away from his schedule.

“Was she fairy-godmothering when I was little?” he asked.

“Oh, most certainly. She’s been in the union for more than forty years,” Rose said.

Ray was struck by a thought that made his eyes widen. “Did she ever take me on visits? I don’t remember any, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t.”

“That’s true,” Rose said. “Why don’t you ask her?”

Ray nodded sharply. “I guess I will. Um, should I walk you home? It’s not too far.”

“Thank you, young man,” Rose said, tucking her hand through his arm. “That would be very nice. Whew!” she said, fanning herself with her little clutch purse. “Isn’t it humid tonight?”

“Sure is,” Ray said, trotting alongside her. “So, Wednesday?”

“Wednesday is fine,” Rose said. “Wednesday for certain.”

“Why do we have to wait so long to go out again?” he asked, knowing he was whining.

Rose tilted her head to look up at him sidelong. “Sonny, when you graduate from the mentoring program and get promoted to full membership you can go out every night of the week from then on. In the meantime you have to put up with the physical restrictions of having a partner of a certain age.”

“But I want to be out and doing things,” Ray insisted. “For other people, I mean. Good things.”

Rose made a sound like “tchah!” “You don’t need magic for that. Clean your room. Wash the dishes. Mow the lawn. Mow the neighbor’s lawn. Feed the hungry.” Ray dug his hands into his pockets and stalked along beside her, sulking. “Look! I’m giving you the intensive course right now. I can’t really do any more than I am. I’ve got responsibilities. What about you? How about your job?”

“What, clipping hedges and planting marigolds? I can do it in my sleep,” Ray said, frustrated.

“But you shouldn’t,” she said. “You could hurt yourself.”

“I don’t need another mama, Rose. I want to get
out there.
”

“I know, I know. But it’s not all fun and games, you know. We haven’t had any of the real heartbreakers, yet.”

“I can handle it,” Ray said confidently.

They turned the corner onto the main street. Ahead of them, the silhouette of a tall, slender girl with her hair in a topknot bun was walking their way with an easy, athletic gait. As they passed under the next streetlamp, she quickened her pace and strode toward them. Ray felt his heart quicken. The leggy shape was his girlfriend, Antoinette. Her long, narrow face lit up.

“Ray? I thought that was you. Where’ve you been, boyfriend?” she asked, leaning back and putting a provocative hand on her hip. “You haven’t been around much the last couple of weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” Ray said abjectly, realizing he hadn’t been as available as he might have been, so involved was he in learning the ins and outs of wish-granting. “Grandma Eustatia got me involved in some charity work,” Ray said hastily, glancing over Antoinette’s shoulder at Rose and hoping she’d take his cue.

“Well, I guess I’ll forgive you,” Antoinette said, smiling so her almond-shaped eyes crinkled. She moved closer. Ray wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hello. “What kind of charity work?” she asked, as soon as her lips were free.

“Helping kids,” Ray said shortly. A full explanation would take hours, and he wasn’t certain he could explain it well, yet, but the short form seemed to satisfy her for the moment. “Uh, sometimes we give them clothes. Whatever they need.”

“Really?” Antoinette beamed, swinging loose so she could see Rose, too. Ray clamped his arm around her waist instead. “That’s so nice.
I’m
doing some special volunteering, too, but not only with kids. My uncle got me into it, you see. Helping people who need help.” She appealed to both of them. “‘Looking out for the little guy,’ he calls it. Good thing I take karate. Some of those little guys aren’t so little, or so glad to see me.” Ray remembered his manners after a surreptitious jab in the ribs from Rose.

“I’m sorry, Toni: this is Mrs. Feinstein. She’s a friend of my grandmother,” Ray said, gesturing from one to the other. “This is Miss Antoinette Smithfield. Her uncle is the Reverend Barnes, the pastor at my grandma’s church.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Rose said, taking Antoinette’s outstretched hand. The girl shook hands with brisk cordiality. “Call me Rose, won’t you? My goodness, no wonder Ray went on and on about you. You’re even more beautiful than he described.”

Antoinette dimpled prettily. “Thanks,” she said shyly. “Where are you going now?” she asked Ray.

“He was just walking me home,” Rose said, before Ray could answer. “The streets can be so unsafe at night.”

“Tell me about it,” Antoinette said, with a long-suffering sigh. “That’s why I take karate classes.”

“She got her black belt sooner than anyone in her age group,” Ray said proudly.

“Congratulations!” Rose grabbed their hands, put them together, and patted them. “Well, you two haven’t seen each other, so I’ll just go on by myself. I’ll be fine.”

“Uh, no, I should go with you,” Ray said, torn between his responsibility as her escort and the attraction of his girlfriend.

“No,” Antoinette said, smoothly taking the trouble out of his hands. “We’ll
both
walk you home. I’d feel better about it. Okay, Ray? There’s no reason that just because I ran into you, you should change your plans.”

“All right,” Ray said dreamily. That was just like her, so considerate. And so beautiful. She had grace. The way she held herself, the way she walked, she looked like a queen next to short, chunky Rose. He’d been against the karate lessons when she first started, thinking that it would make her more macho than he was, but it had only given her confidence. Where she used to be awkward, she was now proud of those long, pretty legs. It was his ego that got in the way. She had had the wisdom to know that, and the patience to wait out the tantrum. Antoinette caught him looking at her, and gave him her special smile. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. She was wonderful.

O O O

At her door, Rose turned to face the young couple. They had trailed behind her, hand in hand, for the last five blocks. She remembered what first love had been like. The delicious memory stayed with one for a lifetime, even if the person didn’t. In Rose’s case, she felt she’d been lucky: he had. With a bittersweet pang in her heart, she smiled down at Ray and Antoinette from her doorstep.

“Thank you very much for escorting me home,” she told them. They seemed to snap out of their little pink cloud when she spoke. The girl, embarrassed to have been caught in such a vulnerable state of mind as love, ducked her head and looked up at Rose through her long eyelashes.

“It was our pleasure,” Antoinette said. “Really.”

“You’re very gracious,” Rose told her. “I do appreciate your coming all this way out of your way for a stranger.” Although they had just met, Rose felt unexpectedly warmly toward the teenage girl. Examining her reaction, she identified the reason with some amusement. “And thank you, Ray. You know, she’s a very special girl.
Very
special,” she added significantly.

“I know,” Ray said, with a blissful smile that told her he had no notion what she was talking about. Well, the girl would tell him, or she wouldn’t. Ray leaned in to whisper, and Antoinette withdrew tactfully to a few steps away. “See you Wednesday evening? There ought to be lots of kids around then.”

“Absolutely,” Rose said, also in a low voice. “Come for dinner. We’ll go out while it’s still light for a change.”

“Thanks,” Ray whispered.

“Wednesday!” she called to them as the couple went away. She took a last, quick check around with her hand on the wand in her purse to make certain there were no emergencies nearby. “What sweet kids,” she thought, as she opened her postbox for the mail. Ray didn’t know what a treasure he had there.

O O O

The first apartment Zeon tried was empty. He hugged himself because the pangs of withdrawal felt like fire eating his ribs. Nothing here to spend or sell. Better try another, his dazed brain told him.

He turned into a puff of smoke and let himself float upward through the floor. Yeah, this one was inhabited! And they had lots of stuff. A VCR, new model—maybe not; ah, but who cared, so long as it worked? He started to undo the cables, when he felt that he was being stared at. A black kid, maybe ten or twelve years old.

“You came right through the floor!” the youngster said, his eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Zeon said. He felt in his pocket for his shank, then remembered Froister had taken them all away. He had to get another one. Unarmed, he felt naked. “You be quiet now. Don’t you shout.”

“I won’t,” the child said, staring at him with admiration instead of fear. Zeon thought he was weird, but as long as he didn’t get in the way, he wouldn’t have to hurt him.

So Clarice wasn’t lying after all
,
Colton thought. Weeks ago, his stepsister had told the family all about her adventures with the white woman and the brother in the zipper jacket who had given her magic skates and five dollars to go out. He had scoffed along with the rest of them, assuming she had saved up her allowance for the bad duds and skates, and made up a story to make her life sound more cool than it was. Clarice was dreary. The only part of her story that had sounded true was that he couldn’t fit in her skates. God knew he’d tried. But now it looked as if it was all true. This guy wore a zip-up leather jacket. He guessed it was the white lady’s day off.

“Are you
my
fairy godfather?” Colton asked. The brother, his eyes slightly unfocused, turned to him with a grin that didn’t look at all nice.

“Oh, yeah, man. I’m your fairy godfather all right. Sure! Hey, your folks home?”

“No,” Colton said, uneasily.

“Great! Show me around, man. Let’s see the place. Your old fairy godfather’s got to know the lay of the land.” Unwillingly Colton did. The stranger started to put things in his pockets, which seemed to have an infinite capacity. Colton felt more and more uneasy as the VCR, his sister’s boom box, and a couple of knickknacks off his mother’s special shelf all vanished into the leather jacket.

He spun, daringly, to confront the man at last. “Ain’t you gonna grant my wish?”

“Maybe later,” the magic man said. “I gotta score first. See you later!” Patting his pockets, he folded his arms and turned into a puff of smoke. Numbly, Colton stared at the place where the magic man had stood, realizing he’d been robbed. He didn’t know what to do first. And what would he tell the folks?

Chapter 13

Three whole days without a single wish to grant! It was only Sunday, Ray thought impatiently when he woke up. No magic to look forward to, no happy kids. He’d probably go mad with inactivity by the time Wednesday came along. At least on Monday, he’d have to go to work, but he saw the long, empty stretch of Sunday lying before him, a Sahara without oases. Even the sunlight peeking in through his bedroom window and the sweet warmth of the air failed to cheer him up.

All morning long he loafed around the house, feeling a little sorry for himself. There were plenty of little tasks he could be doing to help out, but he couldn’t concentrate on any of them. He thought about trying to go out and find some of his friends for a game, but he lost interest in doing it even before he had put his shoes on. All he wanted to think about was fairy-godparenting, a subject which would only brand him as weird among his peers. To him, it was so new and so wonderful that he was utterly frustrated that he couldn’t go out and
do
some of it. He’d been more than half counting on Rose to be available to go out with him. How dare she have other commitments before he was fully fledged and ready to go out on his own? Television, books, and computer games in turn all failed as diversions. He kicked discontentedly around the kitchen and living room with his hands deep in his pockets.

His parents manifested that maddening, parental long-sufferance families got when they had a moody teenager in the house, so he took himself upstairs and out of their sight. He swung the door closed, careful not to slam it, and flopped down on his bed to stare at the ceiling. It took only two minutes before the fidgets set in again. Maybe some tunes would change his mood. He reached for the thumbtack thing Rose had magicked up for him, and Tony Bennett. Rose’s invention was like something out of
Star Trek
. Put disc on spindle, and listen. No moving parts, no batteries, and no headset. He marveled at the fidelity of the stereo sound, playing right inside his head. Amazing.

The album was full of old ballads such as his grandmother loved, jazzed up with modern rhythms and backup. It was as if someone had designed music around his life. He lay down and let the music ramble through his head, smoothing away the twitches.

At hand, on his bedside table, was the thick manual he’d been given by the FGU on the same day he’d received his wand. Out of desperation, he picked it up and thumbed through it, and found himself becoming interested. The little brown-covered book was printed in a tiny typeface that, while clear and easy to read, reminded him of nineteenth century literature books he’d read for school assignments.

The first section dealt with the history of the FGU. Various intriguing facts caught his attention, but he turned resolutely to the beginning and began to read. As Rose had said, most of the activity had started out in southern Europe, and spread from there in every direction. It gave Cinderella’s real name, Ella von Schlampickenwald—what a mouthful!—and the name of her fairy godmother, Blomhilde Franchmuller. The girl’s situation was even more dire than in the bedtime story, and he found himself sitting up on the edge of his bed, worrying about her before the part when Frau Franchmuller came to her rescue. Whew!

That story was followed by more celebrated case histories, but Ray preferred to save them for another day. One intense story was enough for a while.

The second section of the book dealt with the structure and function of the union. There sure were a lot of rules governing union activity, he thought, as he went from chapter to chapter:
hundreds
of prohibitions, restrictions, bans, and other no-nos. It was worse than being back in school. Just reading them made him feel repressed. He found, to his surprise, that he already knew a good number of the regulations by heart. Rose had taught him the right way to do things, made him stick by the regs without shoving them down his throat. He thought she was clever. That way he’d see the point of the rules before he protested them. Rose must have guided a lot of other baby wishmakers before him. There were also suggestions and wisdom contributed by other fairy godparents starting from hundreds of years ago. The one that provoked the deepest reflection in Ray was: “Sometimes to grant a wish, one must start the process to fulfillment, and not give the item itself, as being impossible.”
Maybe that’s what should have happened with that car out west
, he thought.

Raymond turned back to the beginning of the second section, and read the first and most important rule of conduct over and over. “Magic shall be used for good and never for evil.” That seemed so obvious to him he wondered why it was in the book at all. Then he thought of people like Zeon, who wouldn’t hesitate to make a crippled five-year-old dance on a hot griddle if he could get a laugh out of it. Was there any way to stop a Zeon from using fairy godmother magic, if he got hold of a wand? He flipped through the pages, but found no specific entry under “Evil persons, magic, usurpation by.” Well, that must be a big reason there was a group like the Fairy Godmothers Union in the first place, to keep power out of the hands of wrong-headed types, or more precisely,
wrong-hearted
ones.

Not that Raymond thought of himself as particularly virtuous. It embarrassed him every time Rose referred to him as a Sir Galahad, or one of those other classical saints. He was just a kid, but he knew his folks had raised him right. There was nothing special about what he did, except most of the kids he knew weren’t doing it. It could be lonely walking the righteous path, even downright dangerous sometimes.

Maybe there was a shutoff on the wand somewhere. What if he could rig it so it locked out any other user, like a computer password? He fished the wand out of his jacket pocket and looked at it closely.

He knew every stripe and dot in the pattern of the staff, every whorl and angle of the star, but maybe he’d missed something. Nope. Even under the most painstaking scrutiny, it was still a painted piece of wood. He flopped down on his back, holding the wand in the air, concentrating, to see if his inner eye knew about a shutoff valve.

“Oooh, look at that!” Chanel’s voice squealed. Ray felt the wand being snatched out of his fingers. His eyes flew open, and he sat up to glare at his little sister. Because of the music playing, she had managed to creep into his room without him hearing a sound. Who knew what else she had planned to snitch?

“Give it back, Chanel. It’s mine.”

His little sister, already at the door, looked back at him and pouted. She was a pretty eleven-year-old, and already knew the power her charm had over other people.

“Oh, come on, Raymond!” she said, in her best wheedling voice. She cocked her head, waggling the puffy braids of hair tied up with ribbons and beads. “It’s pretty. I want it.”

“I know, little sis, but it’s mine,” Ray said. He realized with anguish that insisting on his claim to it would only make her want it more. “I mean, I can’t give it away.”

“Why not?” she asked, ignoring him and turning the wand over in her fingers. “It’s so nice.”

“Because I can’t,” Ray said. Chanel took another half step out of the door, the precious wand in her grasp. If he leaped up and made a grab for the wand, she’d tear down the stairs to their parents and whimper he was bullying her. Then they’d surely let her keep it. He couldn’t let that happen, because the only way to get it back would be to tell the whole story about being a fairy godfather. He could hear his father’s guffaw in his mind, and cringed. “Come on, Chanel, give it back.”

“Was it a present? From a
girl
?”
Chanel teased, grinning at him. She scented blackmail, possibly resulting in extortion. “You have a new girlfriend, Raymond? What happened to Antoinette? I’m gonna tell her you’re seeing another girl. She’ll kick your chops in.”

“No, it’s not that,” he said, trying to appear casual.

“Then, who?” Chanel resumed her playful examination of the wand. “It’s like one of those pretty pencils they sell, only without a point. I’ll just take it downstairs and sharpen it.”

“No, don’t!” Ray said.

His grandmother came up the stairs at that moment, huffing at the effort. She braced herself on the banister at the top. The stairs were steep for a heavy, elderly woman. “Let him be, Chanel. Don’t you have homework?”

“Grandma!” Chanel said, halfway between whining and exasperation, “it’s
June
.”

“Oh, I know that, honey.” Grandma Eustatia smiled blandly. “You leave your brother alone. He’s busy.”

Chanel look surprised. It was rare that anyone supported Ray’s wishes over hers. As the youngest of the Crandall children and the only girl, the folks found it hard to deny her anything. She was beautiful, smart as a whip, and so talented it was hard not to think in light of his new knowledge that three fairy godmothers hadn’t said a blessing over her cradle. Like Grandma Eustatia, she had an incredible voice that had matured in advance of her body. She sang like an angel. He felt protective of her, but tried not to seem too soft about it. The eight years between their ages meant they’d never been in the same school together. His brother Bobby had started kindergarten when Ray was in fourth grade, so they’d been together three years, but Chanel was a mystery to him. Her giggly little friends hung around the house, playing dolls and dress-up, then mooning away over TV stars and rock idols, while he and his friends tried to find some peace and quiet away from them. In the perverse way of little girls, they’d tailed Ray and his friends, staying underfoot where they were least wanted. His parents had insisted that he tolerate them, since they weren’t doing any real harm. Ray’s protests of privacy had done no good. Chanel just had to look pathetic and cute, and she got her way. As a result, she had become a little spoiled.

Ray put out his hand for the wand. Chanel held on to it for a while longer, giving him a big, hopeful-eyed gaze. When he didn’t change his mind or his expression, she gave in and handed the wand over.

“Thanks, little sis,” Ray said. With a histrionic show of reluctance, she bowed her head as if his cruelty was too much to take. Ray pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. He put the wand in his jacket pocket and zipped it securely. “Don’t be upset. I’ll do something else nice for you.” Chanel’s face brightened at once.

“Take me downtown?” she begged, jumping up and down. No setback was too severe that it interfered with her permanent agenda of personal indulgence. “Can we go to the Art Institute? Can we go shopping? Water Tower Place?”

“It’s Sunday, honey,” her grandmother said. “Most things are closed. Why don’t you wait until after school lets out next week? Then I’m sure Ray will be happy to take you to the Art Institute on a weekday when the crowds aren’t too bad.”

“I work weekdays, Grandma,” Ray said, almost apologetically. He was grateful to her for bailing him out with Chanel, but he couldn’t take a day off work just to bribe his little sister.

“Some Saturday, then,” Grandma said. “All right?”

“You’ll take me then?” Chanel asked Ray.

“Yes,” Ray said. “I promise. Uh, next week.” All the stores closed before he’d be going out with Rose, so that seemed like a safe offer. Chanel was overjoyed.

“All right! I’m going to call Mikala. She can come with us. I know you won’t mind taking
two
of us,” Chanel said, her eyes bright with plans. “And Sophia. She won’t go anywhere unless Mikala’s going, too. I wonder if her sister Rachel wants to come, too.” She shot away down the stairs two at a time. “I’d better call them and make sure they don’t have to do anything else that day!”

“Hey!” Ray said, starting after her. He hadn’t meant to make it a shopping party, but Chanel could blow even the smallest favor into a major production.

“Let her go, child,” Grandma Eustatia said, in her soft voice. “I’ll talk to her later.” She skimmed rather than walked, a surprisingly graceful mode of locomotion for such a short, heavy woman. It had made men turn and look at her again when they’d mentally dismissed her for being too old to be interesting. Ray had seen the phenomenon at church, and in stores, when the two of them went shopping together. Her eyes were the same light brown as her skin. As her hair had grayed, she had tinted it that color, too, giving her the look of the bronze statue of a wisewoman. “Do you have a little time? I want to hear how everything’s going for you.”

“Sure, Grandma,” Ray said. “There’s nothing going on today.” He glanced back at his room to make certain his fairy godmother manual was out of sight. Yes, there was a fold of blanket hiding it from direct view.

“Good,” Grandma said, taking his arm so he could help her down the narrow staircase. “You can help me make Sunday dinner. If it looks like work, no one will disturb us.”

O O O

Grandma’s powerful laughter pealed throughout the kitchen, causing the glass in the windows and the pans on the shelf to ring. Ray took a quick peek through the living room door to make sure no one heard it and wanted to know what was so funny. Nope. Dad was bent halfway over the television, watching the baseball game, trying to hear the audio over the jazz horns blaring out of Mom’s stereo. Bobby was nowhere in sight. The day was too nice for him to be inside. Ray thought that he was probably up the street at his friend James’s. The bunch of them were trying to start a garage band. Grandma slapped the table.

“And the whole thing came apart, and it was shooting dirt all over the room? Honey, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” Grandma said, her round eyes gleaming merrily.

“It wasn’t funny when it happened,” Ray said darkly, his brows compressed over his nose. He started to think about it, and realized the absurdity of the situation now that he was a couple of weeks removed from it. He sputtered, remembering the dirt flying and Rose goggling popeyed at him. “But I guess it is now.”

“Darling, every one of us has an orchid story,” Grandma said kindly, handing him a bag of potatoes. “I’m sure anyone will tell you if you ask. Please peel five pounds. We’re making salad. It’s too hot to eat hot potatoes.”

The small kitchen already smelled delicious. In the refrigerator Ray had seen the pork roast marinating in a bowl of Grandma’s secret herb mixture. The only ingredient he knew for sure was black pepper, because the gray granules were impossible to disguise. Everything else was shrouded in long-standing mystery. The mixture made meat—any meat, even cheap cuts—taste wonderful. Friends at pot luck suppers had tried to surprise the secret out of her, even watched her shop, but they never figured it out. The grill on the back porch stood ready to light. Grandma put a bowl in one side of the double sink and filled it with cold water. She handed Ray the peeler and directed him to the other side.