A Stroke Of Magic Part 20

"No idea. I'd prefer here after all the work I've done on the place, but what's important is being with the person you love. I'll go wherever." A light of knowledge danced into her brown eyes. "What's going on with you? Making any headway on the soul mate front?"

"Not really. Ethan and I had a date yesterday. It was really nice." Biting my lip, I asked a question I hadn't planned on: "How did you know you'd fallen in love with Nate?"

"That serious already? That must have been some date."

I gave my sister a glare. "Just answer. How'd you know?"

She shrugged, some of her chestnut hair falling into her eyes. Whisking it away, she said, "I can't answer that. I just...knew."

"That's no help! Can't you be more exact?"

I must have looked as miserable as I felt, because she squeezed my hand. "Aw, sweetie. Trust me. You'll know. When it comes right down to it, you won't have a question or a bit of doubt; your entire being will sing with the knowledge."

Weird, really, how her answer about love and Miranda's about magic were so very similar. Heck, it was even a little eerie. "Yeah. I've been hearing a lot of that lately."

"Come on. Let's get a brownie and a big gla.s.s of milk, and you can tell me all about your date. Sound good?"

"Yeah. I'd like that." And then, together, we talked it out over chocolate.

By the time I left, I was in a better frame of mind. If what Elizabeth said was true, then maybe I already had my soul mate question answered. Of course, a stupid little inner voice reminded me that, no matter how strong my feelings for Ethan were, it did not mean he was the man in my drawing. But that little voice? It p.i.s.sed me off, so I tuned it out.

I waited for Kyle in a window booth at a local hamburger joint a few blocks away from Enchanted Expressions. I wasn't sure what I was going to glean from this meeting, but I hoped something would come out that would settle the Kyle-as-soul-mate subject once and for all.

When he loped into the restaurant, I saw him immediately. Today, he wore casual dress slacks, a tucked-in long-sleeved shirt, and a tie. A flutter of surprise had me taking a closer look. Dressed like this, he was actually fairly handsome, even with his apparently trademark sungla.s.ses pushed up on his head. His gaze landed on me and he gave a small, tight smile.

Sliding into the seat across from me, he tipped his head in greeting. "Hey, Alice. Have you been waiting long?"

"No. Thanks for meeting me. I appreciate it."

The waitress stopped at our table, delivering two gla.s.ses of water and two menus. After she zipped away, Kyle opened his menu, his long fingers tilting it upright so I couldn't quite see his entire face. My stomach hurt, probably from the tension emanating off of Kyle. It appeared we were equally unhappy with this get-together. I knew what caused my stress, but I wondered what caused his.

As I watched him, I tried to imagine being with him the way I was with Ethan, but the image wouldn't take. It wasn't that I found him distasteful, because I didn't. Especially now that I knew more about him. There just weren't any sparks, any energy, any anything between us.

He set his menu down, and a hint of irritation existed in the way he sat, in his stiffly held shoulders. "What did you want to see me for?" he finally asked, his voice calm but abrupt.

"Um. Well, we're both friends with Shelby and Grant. And Chloe. I thought it might be nice to get to know each other a little better, that's all."

His eyes skittered to the window and then back to me. Instead of the casual, even funny Kyle I'd seen at Shelby's, this Kyle was all about business. "This is probably a really rough time for you, isn't it? Being pregnant and the father skipping out and all. I'm sorry you're going through that."

"It hasn't been easy," I agreed, once again surprised.

"And you'd probably like to find someone else. Another man or...well...even a woman if you go that way, to help you out a little. I get that. I do." Fidgeting, he played with his napkin-wrapped silverware. "Do you go that way? Or are you set on finding a man? Maybe I can fix you up with some people, if you tell me what you're looking for. There're a couple of divorced guys at work who are seriously into the daddy scene."

Was he trying to match me up? Seriously? "Kyle? What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying I understand." The words were said slowly, as if he were talking to a child.

"Understand what, exactly?"

"You've called almost every day for the past week. I thought by not returning your calls I'd have given you the message I wasn't interested. But you haven't gotten that." Slouching back, he watched me carefully. "You're not going to cry or something, are you?"

"No, I'm not going to cry." I took a slow breath to battle the annoyance rising up in me. Maybe he wasn't getting at what I thought he was getting at. "But you'll need to spell this out for me, because I'm a little confused."

"Look, Alice. There have been girls I've really liked in the past. I know how it feels to want to hook up with someone so much you can't get them out of your mind. If it weren't for Chloe, I might even think it was cool you'd chosen me." Now he fiddled with the saltshaker. "Not that I want to be a dad to your tyke-to-be, 'cause I don't. I'm not in that place right now, if you get my gist."

I stared at him, incredulous. He thought I wanted to hook up with him? Ew! Just...ew. The waitress appeared then, thank goodness. She took our orders and then rushed over to the table next to us. Unfortunately, the brief respite didn't give me one iota of clarity as to why he'd made this leap. "I've been calling because I wanted to talk to you. That's it."

"You're nearly stalking me! Chloe won't go out with me because of you. Shelby keeps asking if we've done anything together yet. And you drew a picture of me? It's crazy. The only reason I came today was to tell you in person I'm not interested." He shifted around in his seat, and a sideways grin popped out. "I know I'm nearly irresistible, so it's not even your fault. The ladies dig me, so you're in good company, but please chill out on the phone calls."

Okay, maybe it was rude, but I laughed. "You think I'm stalking you?" Another burst of laughter escaped. "Oh, Kyle, that is so far from the truth. I'm sorry if I...er...frightened you."

It was his turn to laugh, and he looked obviously relieved. "You didn't scare me. But between Chloe and Shelby, and you calling so much, it really felt weird. So...you're not on a daddy hunt?" He gave me another nervous look.

"No. I'm not on a daddy hunt. Chloe wanted us to get to know each other better, so that's what I'm doing." It was another lie by omission of some key facts, but somehow, I didn't think exposing the soul mate hunt to him would go over any better than a supposed daddy hunt.

"Uh...what's the deal with drawing me then? And why is Chloe so adamant about us talking?"

"I drew a picture that Shelby thought looked like you." At his doubtful glance, another laugh escaped. "Seriously, Kyle. I drew it before I even saw you at the cookout. As far as Chloe goes, we're close. Friends check out guys for their friends. She's a little nervous, that's all. With the past you two have, you can't really blame her."

Something-remorse?-trickled over his features. "I know I didn't treat her right. Shelby came along, and I was hooked. She was all I could think of. But that was high school. It's different now. I've grown up a little, believe it or not."

Both of us relaxed then, for real, and finally I was able to just talk to him. You know how they say first impressions can be deceiving? Well, in Kyle's case, that was definitely the truth. Sure, the guy had some serious hangups about commitment, but he was nice, smart, and really quite funny. By the time we finished lunch, I could honestly say that being Kyle's friend might be a cool thing.

But as far as the soul mate issue went, I thought I could safely cross him off my list, scar or no. Because that was the only fact lining up on his side. Attraction between us was nil, he was not seeing marriage in his near future, and, yeah-the daddy thing? Completely freaked him out. And the fact I hadn't been able to draw his wedding day made me think he wasn't going to have one. Ever.

Also, seeing as how the man in my drawing wore a wedding ring, well-that was something that made me feel oh-so-much better. We left the restaurant together, stopping outside to say our good-byes.

"It was nice hanging with you today." Bending down, he smooched me lightly on my cheek. "Now maybe Chloe and I can go out."

I almost told him that Chloe was on a different track, that she wanted to get married and have kids someday, but luckily common sense won out and I kept my thoughts to myself. If anything I said or did changed Chloe's future, I'd never forgive myself. "Good luck," was my only reply.

"Thanks! And hey, if it doesn't work out with her, maybe we can hang out some more." He winked. "You're pretty hot for a pregnant chick."

"Um. Thanks?"

Seeing as I already knew that things weren't going to pan out between Chloe and Kyle, his little statement gave me pause, even if it was only a joke. I strolled back to work slowly, thinking about Kyle and trying to be sure that I truly felt nothing for him. My emotions for Ethan were strong, intense, and had been almost from the beginning. Was that coloring my thoughts about Kyle? My attraction to him? No. I didn't think so. For now I was keeping Kyle crossed off the soul mate list. If following my heart didn't lead me to happiness, and I had to end my relationship with Ethan, well...maybe I'd give Kyle more consideration. But I didn't think that was going to happen, because everything about Ethan just felt right.

Returning to my office, I beelined for my desk, pushing all other thoughts straight out of my head. I needed to be able to concentrate. We had just gotten a new account that required my attention, and while the original meeting with Mr. Kendall had been delayed, the new date was fast approaching, so I had plenty to keep my afternoon occupied. When I pulled out my chair, a large manila envelope sitting on the seat grabbed my attention.

My heart stopped. Well, not literally, but for a second it felt like cardiac arrest. I opened the envelope and pulled out the sheaf of papers within. Yep, just what I'd figured. These were the papers from Troy requiring my signature to end his rights with our child. As if he'd never existed.

My fingers closed around the pages so tightly that my knuckles turned white and then pink. Even though this was what I wanted, pain still churned inside of me, because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't understand how anyone-even someone as jerky as Troy-could ignore his child coming into the world.

Instinctively, I rubbed my belly with my other hand. "We'll be okay, kiddo. I promise."

She moved then, in a mixture of tiny kicks and b.u.t.terfly wings, as if in agreement with my words. Silly to think that way, but it still put a smile on my face. "Yeah," I said with much more confidence, "One way or another, we'll be fine."

After I read the papers clear through, I made a copy of them and gave the originals already bearing Troy's signature to Ethan to pa.s.s to his attorney. Soon, at least one area of my life would be finalized. Not exactly something to celebrate, but hey, any progress was better than none.

And tonight, Ethan and I were meeting with Beatrice. Maybe, if I were really lucky, by the end of the evening I'd have a few more answers.

Chapter Fourteen.

Beatrice Bellamy looked nothing like her son. Or, rather, he looked nothing like her.

Where Troy stood barely taller than I am, Beatrice towered over me. Compared to Troy's dark hair and eyes, Beatrice seemed faded. From her gray-dusted light brown hair, to her pale brown eyes, even to the lackl.u.s.ter tone of her skin, everything about her was just a tad washed out. And if she was a witch, I sure as h.e.l.l couldn't tell. It wasn't like she wore a pointy black hat or had warts on her nose-which, by the way, hadn't twitched even once so far.

I'd partially expected her to be the woman from my rocking chair drawing, but she wasn't. Probably this should have relieved me, and I guess in a way it did. But I still didn't know who the mystery woman was, and I remained just as clueless as to what that specific drawing meant.

Beatrice ushered Ethan and me into her home. I scrunched up my nose at the odd mixture of lemon, coffee, and tuna scents that wafted in the air. Three meowing cats trailed along with us. Cats were said to be familiars for witches, so was their presence a sign of witchcraft or merely a lonely woman? Or just a cat lover?

Ethan's hand stayed firmly on my waist as we walked, his touch centering me. Even though I could have met Beatrice on my own, I appreciated that he'd wanted to come. And somehow, his being there with me seemed natural.

We stopped in a small room off the front hallway. The two back walls were lined with shelves, and books, stacked two deep, were crammed into them. She'd placed two small pink and beige chairs in the center of the room, with an octagon-shaped table between. Across from them rested a white and pink flowered love seat held up by wooden curlicue legs. A couple of embroidered throw pillows perched atop the cushions.

I chose the love seat. One cat immediately jumped into my lap, purring and rubbing its calico head against my hand. I scratched behind her ears, which brought forth even louder purring. Ethan sat on my left side, slinging his arm over my shoulders. A nervous tingle dotted my skin.

I reminded myself what my objectives were. Not only did I need to judge what sort of person Troy's mother was, but there was that whole magic thing to contend with. Was she or wasn't she?

Beatrice smiled, her round cheeks puffing out, the skin around her eyes crinkling into myriad little lines. "She must like you; she normally runs and hides when guests are here."

I didn't want to chitchat, so I forged ahead. "Missy said you want to be a part of the baby's life. I'm slightly uncomfortable with that idea. What with the way things are with Troy."

The woman seated herself, lacing her fingers together on her lap. "I understand that," she said, "but I'm not my son, and I haven't done anything wrong to you-or to the child, have I?"

"Well, no, but..." I glanced at Ethan, and then back to Beatrice. "Look, I'm just going to put this out there and get it over with." One deep breath, and then, "Troy said you're a witch, and that you used to put horrible spells on him when he was younger so that he'd behave."

Ethan flinched next to me but stayed quiet. I kept my attention firmly on Beatrice. Her left eyebrow arched in either humor or interest, but she didn't appear surprised or annoyed by my blunt question. Rather, she seemed to appreciate my forthrightness. "Oh, he told you that, did he?"

I lifted my chin. "Yes, he did. Is it true?"

Ethan sucked in a breath. His arm tensed.

Beatrice continued to stare at me, but she didn't speak. The silence grew uncomfortable, awkward, and I was about to suggest we leave when she slowly shook her head. "You're an interesting one, Miss Alice Raymond. I'll give you that. But to answer your question: No, I'm not a witch. I never bespelled my son, though I did tell him that on occasion-to keep him in line. He was a difficult boy to raise."

"So you don't have any magic? None at all?" The question flew from my mouth before I could edit it.

Tilting her head, her amber eyes deepened a shade. "I didn't say that. I'm not a witch. What I am is a woman with a minute amount of power. My mother had more, my grandmother even more, but it's become diluted over the years. It's nothing to be afraid of. I can't do anything to you, Alice...if that's what you're worried about."

"What kind of power?" I asked. She remained quiet, which frustrated me. "What can you do?"

Ethan shifted, leaning over slightly so I could see his face. "Alice, are you sure you want to have this particular discussion right now?" he asked softly. "Maybe it would be best to start off with normal...er, easier...topics, until you get to know each other a little. Like the weather, or your favorite television programs? Or even work?"

His strain came through loud and clear. Maybe bringing him with me had been a bad idea. My reasons had seemed sound at the time; I'd figured I could gauge what his reaction would be if I were to tell him about my family, about my own powers. But it was too late now to secondguess myself.

"I know this is awkward," I said to him. "I'm sorry, but Troy said things I need answers to. It's okay if you want to wait in the car, but I'd like to finish this conversation."

Doubt and something else-worry?-appeared in his eyes. He shook his head and said, "Why am I attracted to women like you? There are perfectly normal women all around, but I seem to be hooked on the unusual."

If he hadn't said the words lightly, and with a grin, I would have been concerned. Really, really concerned. But because he had, I smiled back. "I guess because you're smarter than the average bear," I teased.

Another flash of confusion. "What?"

I laughed. "It's a Yogi Bear thing. Never mind."

Beatrice cleared her throat. "Would you like my answer now, or should I wait for the young man to leave?"

Turning toward her, I gestured for her to continue. My skin itched with nerves. Whoever, whatever this woman was, her blood ran in my child's veins as surely as mine did. So h.e.l.l yes, I wanted her to answer my question.

"It's not so much a 'power' as it is a very strong sense of intuition. Of knowing what a person is within seconds of meeting them. Of waking up in the morning and knowing I should stay home that day and receive an important phone call when I'd normally have been out of the house. Of driving to my weekly book club and knowing I should take a different route-and then finding out there was an accident along a road I would have been on." She shrugged, and a glint of humor skipped into her eyes. "It's come in handy over the years, but I can't control it. I can't force things to happen or not happen."

"So you make choices based on feelings? How often have you been wrong?" Ethan interjected.

"Oh, it's not foolproof, but I'm right far more often than I'm wrong."

"Sure, but how many of your choices are more than a 50 percent shot one way or the other? Maybe you're just a really good guesser." Ethan's arm left my shoulders. "Please don't take offense at my doubt. I've just found the simplest explanation is often the most accurate."

Beatrice's eyes flickered from me to Ethan. Her chin lowered in a nod. "Perhaps you're correct. It could very well be that I am nothing more than a really good guesser."

"I wouldn't call you a good guesser if most of your guesses were incorrect," Ethan prompted. His voice held humor, but also a great deal of skepticism.

Beatrice sighed. "They're not. And it's more than that. I know things about you and Alice already. n.o.body has told me these things, but I know them as fact."

"Please, amaze us with your knowledge." I was more than a little surprised to hear censure in Ethan's voice. It wasn't strong, but it was there, threaded beneath the calm.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Hit me with your best shot."

"Remember that you asked. You're a good man with a good heart, but you've been hurt in the past by a woman you cared a great deal for. This woman hurt you so much that...elements you were raised to believe in, you've now set aside as rubbish."

A cynical laugh. "How many men have reached my age without being hurt by a woman at least once?"

"Again, you speak the truth. But in your case, it was more than a simple breakup or a romance gone bad." Beatrice's eyes narrowed. "I'm not a fortune-teller, but whatever happened with this woman altered your relationship with two other women tied closely to you. Your mother and grandmother, perhaps?"

A wave of silence crashed through the room, so fast, so heavy, my head pounded. I began to wonder what, exactly, had happened with the woman Ethan had proposed to. Was this the woman Beatrice spoke of? I wanted to ask. The words gathered in my mouth but I gulped them away.

"It seems you are, indeed, a very good guesser," Ethan acknowledged, his tone still calm, still doubtful, but without the censure.

"Thank you for playing," Beatrice said, a tad smugly. I didn't hold it against her, though, because let's face it, she hadn't initiated any portion of this conversation. I had, and then Ethan had pushed it along.