A Stroke Of Magic Part 8

I held back a sigh. "Of course I remember."

"Doesn't life do funny things? Imagine running into each other after all these years. Your mom was nice enough to give me your number. I hope that's okay!" Before I could reply, Shelby continued. "Anyway, I was wondering if we could get together soon and catch up? None of my girlfriends are pregnant, and I'd love to have someone to talk about everything with."

I didn't say anything, because the last thing I wanted was to hang with Shelby or chat about our mutual belly bulges. Yes, she seemed nice enough now. I got that. But for one thing, I didn't want to upset Chloe. And for another, other than pregnancy, I didn't see how I'd have much in common with Shelby. Especially now.

"Things aren't that great at the moment. Can we catch up another time?"

"Oh. Sure. If that's what you want..." She broke off, a twinge of disappointment evident.

Again, just like in the doctor's office, I felt like a heel. "I'm home sick today. This nausea isn't going away and I can barely function, let alone have a conversation and make any sort of sense."

"Isn't it terrible? I've had the same problem, but I'm carrying twins."

"Oh. Wow. Well, I'm not. I'm just sick all the freaking time."

"Have you tried Preggie Pops? Or one of the other brands? They've helped me a lot."

"Not yet. They really work?"

"They're not the be-all, end-all, but they do make a difference." She stopped talking, and I heard her take a deep breath. "Since you're home today, and I have nothing going on, I could bring you a bag of them. Maybe they'll help. And we could catch up a little."

I hesitated. "I'm in my pajamas and don't feel like changing. Maybe another time?"

She giggled. "Don't be silly. I don't care if you're in your pj's. And I don't have to stay long."

Checking the time, I saw that I had hours before there was any chance of Chloe showing up, and it was nice of Shelby to offer. And I did feel miserable. "If you really don't mind, that would be great."

I told her where I lived and she rang off, presumably to pick up some Preggie Pops and come right over. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but I didn't see how spending an hour or so with Shelby was going to hurt anything. Chloe would understand.

At least, I thought she would.

Ha. Actually, that was a lie. Chloe would definitely not understand, but she loved me, so she'd get over it.

My place still resembled a disaster zone, with all my art supplies strewn around, so I took a few minutes to straighten up. Then, after one more curious peek at the new drawing, I closed the sketchpad. I put that and the pencil on my coffee table, and went to put on some real clothes, because no matter what Shelby said, I was not greeting her in my pajamas.

Nearly an hour later, my doorbell rang. Then I did something I never thought I would do in a million years; I opened my door and invited Shelby Harris nee Whitaker, aka crazy-cheerleader-man-stealing-self-involved-twit, into my home. Weird, how things change.

Weirder still, she gave me a hug as if we were long-lost friends, finally reunited. Because I didn't know what else to do, I hugged her back. Dressed in crisp white pants and a collared, short-sleeved yellow shirt that stretched tightly over her abdomen, she looked like one of those perfect models on the covers of pregnancy and baby magazines. But even so, her expertly applied makeup didn't hide her fatigue, and when she advanced farther into the entryway, her movements were slow and awkward.

"It was really nice of you to offer to come over," I said, leading the way into the living room. I pointed to the couch. "Why don't you relax and I'll get you something to drink. If you'd like something?"

She immediately crossed to the sofa and sat down. I tried not to stare at her stomach, but it was kind of difficult to miss, it being huge and all. "I'd love some ice water, if you don't mind. I'm always so warm."

"No problem." In the kitchen, I pulled out two gla.s.ses, filled them with ice and water, then returned to my guest. "Here you go."

She accepted the gla.s.s. I took the chair across from her, and tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to me, so I relied on the most obvious topic. "So. Um. When are you due?"

Grimacing, she placed her free hand on her stomach. "Not soon enough. My official due date is mid-July, but twins tend to come about a month early. So probably next month sometime. What about you?"

"September. It seems so far away. Are you ready? I mean, twins! Were you surprised?"

"We were relieved, actually. I didn't conceive easily." She hesitated and then leaned forward. "We spent a lot of money to have these babies, and I don't think we'd ever be able to do that again. It will take us years to get out of debt. So we're happy we're having two. But no, we're not ready."

"I haven't even started." My admission startled me, but somehow, hanging with Shelby wasn't nearly as horrible as I'd expected. "Right now, my extra bedroom is my art studio, but I'm going to have to turn it into the baby's room. I'm thinking about painting a nursery scene on the wall."

"I wish I were that creative. Or my husband." She laughed. "Grant has been meaning to paint the nursery forever, but he still hasn't gotten around to it."

I almost offered to paint a scene for her but held my tongue. Right or wrong, it seemed traitorous to Chloe. "It sounds like you're really happy."

"I am! What about you? How's the father-to-be?"

"He's not involved," I said quickly. "I, ah, prefer not to discuss that. Or him."

"I'm so sorry," Shelby said. "I can't imagine going through this without Grant. Most of my friends..." She broke off, sipped her water, and then set the gla.s.s down on the end table. "They're not at the same place in their lives, and they're not sure how to handle this." She gestured to her stomach. "So...well, they've kind of vanished. And Grant has to work so many hours, I'm alone a lot. That's why I wanted to see you."

"But we were never really friends," I remarked. "Don't get me wrong. It's nice to chat, but it's a little confusing." Though, based on what she'd just said, her behavior made a lot more sense.

"You were really nice to me once, a long time ago. I've never forgotten it. When I saw you at Dr. Layton's...well, I thought maybe..." She stopped speaking and twisted her fingers together.

"Maybe what?" Even as I asked, I tried to remember when I had been really nice to Shelby.

"I don't know. I'd hoped we might be able to be friends now."

"Oh. The thing is-" My stomach gurgled and nausea climbed the back of my throat. In one quick move, I set my gla.s.s down and slapped my hand over my mouth. Jumping up, I ran from the room, hoping like h.e.l.l I'd make it to the restroom in time.

When I finally returned, some ten minutes later, I said, "I'm so sorry. It comes in waves, and normally I can deal with it. Today has been bad."

Understanding gleamed in her gaze. "Don't even think about it. I get it, believe me." She opened her purse and pulled out a bag. "I should have given this to you right away, but I was so happy to see you, I forgot. They didn't have Preggie Pops, but this brand works really well too."

I accepted the bag and opened it. Inside was a package of lollipops. The words on the outside of the package promised they would "Stop queasiness in its tracks." Choosing one, I unwrapped it and stuck it in my mouth. "Thanks," I said, talking around it.

"No problem. Hey, do you mind if I put my feet up? My ankles are hideously swollen." Pink blossomed on Shelby's cheeks, as if the admission embarra.s.sed her. "I promised my husband I'd keep them up as much as possible. He worries."

Even as I said, "Go ahead," and "Isn't that sweet?" jealousy whipped into me. Mere minutes earlier, I'd felt a little sorry for her, because of her vanishing friends. But now? The pang of envy grew stronger. What would it be like to have a husband hover around, making sure you were okay, worrying about you, taking care of you? If he were the right guy? It would be wonderful.

Shelby smiled gratefully. Kicking her shoes off, she started to swing her feet onto the coffee table but then stopped. "Let me move this first." Reaching over, she picked up my sketchpad. "Oh! I remember you were always the artsy type. Mind if I look?"

I was still thinking about how lucky she was to have a husband who so obviously loved her. "Go ahead. They're just sketches, though."

Shelby scooted around, settling into a half sitting, half p.r.o.ne position. Once her feet were up, she sighed. "So much better." Opening the sketchbook, she flipped from one page to another, oohing and ahhing as she went. Me? I kept sucking on the lollipop, and guess what? It was working. For the first time all morning, my nausea, while not gone, was nowhere near as bad as it had been. I had a strong hunch I'd be buying out my local pharmacy's supply.

"Oh! This looks like someone I know," Shelby said, her eyes glued to the sketchpad.

"Really?" There were a lot of pictures in that book, but most of them weren't of people, so immediately the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "Which?"

She flipped the book around, so I could see the page she looked at. "This one. I can't tell for sure, because I can't see his face, but from the back, he looks like an old boyfriend." Another flush gathered on her cheeks. "He introduced me to Grant, actually."

I opened my mouth. The lollipop fell to the ground. "You know him? Who is he?" I tried to sound natural and calm, but yeah-that didn't happen. "And how can you tell from his back?"

She gave me an odd look. "I can't for sure. Like I said. And it probably isn't him, anyway. Lots of men would look the same from the back. Don't you think?" Her eyes returned to the page, and she puckered her lips.

"There's a scar on his shoulder. Or maybe a birthmark, I'm not sure," I offered.

She nodded. "I saw that. That's one of the reasons why I thought it looked like Kyle. But that's silly. Isn't it?" Her gaze flickered over to me. "Who is it? I'm sure I don't know him, but now I'm curious."

Kyle? No. Not that Kyle. Impossible.

"Oh, n.o.body. I mean, I drew the picture with no one in particular in mind. Kyle who?"

"Ackers. You probably don't know him. We dated for about a year, and then he introduced me to Grant." She shrugged. "Love at first sight. We've been together ever since."

Her forgetfulness annoyed me. Big time. "We went to school together, Shelby. Remember? Of course I know who Kyle is. I'm surprised you don't remember why I know who Kyle is." Now I was more than annoyed; I was a little peeved. Sure, the incident between her and Chloe had happened forever ago, but-to me-if you're going to be cla.s.sless enough to steal a girl's guy, you should at least remember it!

The terseness of my voice must have tipped her off that she'd trodden into a danger zone. Her blue eyes clouded for a second, as if she were searching back in her memory, trying to find whatever piece of information to which I'd alluded. Then they widened, and she looked a little like a deer caught in oncoming headlights. "Oh. That's right. I'd forgotten. It was a long time ago."

Leaning over, I picked up the sucker I'd dropped. "When someone's feelings are hurt, they don't forget. Especially when your heart is involved." My anger increased. How could she not remember? Of course, she wasn't the one who'd held Chloe while Chloe cried her eyes out, day after day, for nearly a year. Shelby wasn't the one who'd helped Chloe dispose of all the little mementos she'd collected throughout her relationship with Kyle. That had been me. Because that was what friends did for each other.

Afraid I was about to say something I'd later regret, I stood. "I'll be right back." I strode to the kitchen, tossed the lollipop in the garbage and leaned against the wall, waiting for my temper to lessen. Part of me wanted to order Shelby out of my home, to never contact me again. But that reaction was based on the past, and how fair was that? Everything I knew about her now suggested a nice woman in a good marriage, happy about beginning her family. People change. And while I'd never forget the misery Chloe had gone through, it wasn't all Shelby's fault. A large portion of the blame went to Kyle. Which, oddly, Chloe had never admitted. Not verbally, anyway.

Suddenly, what Shelby had said hit me again and I almost doubled over. No way was that picture of Kyle. That would be far too cruel a joke. But I couldn't blow it off. I couldn't ignore it. Especially because the information had seemingly come out of nowhere, not long after I'd begged Miranda to help me. So, like it or not-and I didn't, by the way-I had to look into it. But I truly didn't believe my soul mate was the same man who'd devastated my best friend.

I left the kitchen, only to find Shelby yakking on her cell phone. When she saw me, she said her good-byes and disconnected quickly, tucking her phone into her purse. Apprehension skittered over her expression, and again I reminded myself that she wasn't the same person she had been in high school.

"You're right, Shelby. It was a long time ago. Let's just leave it alone."

She smiled in relief. "Thank you. Things change, and now that I remember what I did, I feel horrible. But I can fix it!"

Oh, no. "Fix it?"

"That was Kyle on the phone. Once I realized how much you must still be hung up on him-I mean, you drew his picture-I decided to fix you two up again. Just like the old days."

"Um. Shelby? I never dated Kyle. It was my friend Chloe. Chloe Nichols. You remember her, right? You guys were really good friends for a long time."

"Kyle dated Chloe? Are you sure? I thought you dated him."

An exasperated sigh slipped out. "Yes. I'm positive."

She tilted her head to the side, and her gaze took in the drawing again. "Why'd you draw him then? Does Chloe know how you feel?"

"Shelby! I didn't draw Kyle. I just drew a man. I don't know who he is."

"Wow. That's bizarre, huh?"

"I guess." I laughed at the ludicrousness of me being hung up on Kyle Ackers. "He's not exactly my type, you know," I said.

"What do you mean?" She looked truly perplexed.

"He's just a little"-I searched for the right word-"callous."

Shelby's blue eyes filled with sadness. "He actually has a great deal of compa.s.sion; he just doesn't let many people see it."

I shrugged, ready to bring the subject back to the drawing. "It's been years since I've seen him, so I can believe he's changed."

A quick grin wiped away the sadness. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far. He still doesn't have the greatest social skills, but trust me...he really isn't as bad as he comes off."

Her eyes drifted to the drawing again, so I switched gears. "How sure are you that it looks like Kyle?"

Amus.e.m.e.nt flitted over her. "Oh, pretty sure. I've seen his back a zillion times." I must have looked puzzled, because she laughed. "Not like that! Not for a long time, anyway. We have a pool, and Kyle likes to swim, so he's over a lot. Did I mention he's really good friends with my husband?"

"Yes, you mentioned that." My head hurt from taking in so much information at once. How could anyone be so dang chipper all the time?

"So, anyway, Kyle remembered you. And we're having a cookout on Sat.u.r.day. If it's warm enough, we'll be opening the pool. Want to come? You can bring Chloe, if you'd like."

No, I didn't want to go. No, I didn't want to see Kyle. And no, I didn't want Kyle to be the man I'd drawn. But for some reason, what I said was, "Sure. Sounds like fun. I'll check with Chloe."

Shelby hung around for another hour or so, and while I tried to be sociable, I probably wasn't that successful. After she left, I picked up the sketchpad again. Turning to the beach scene, I stared at the man. "Who are you?" I whispered. "And why is it so important I find you?"

"You're going to Shelby's house. For a barbeque. And Kyle will be there." Chloe's voice had that monotone thing going on. That, combined with the stiff way she held herself, worried me. Because when Chloe isn't animated, something is very wrong. "How exactly did all of this take place?"

We were sitting in the living room of her minuscule one-bedroom apartment. Rather than give her the chance to come to my place, I'd been waiting for her when she got home from work. I'd already explained how Shelby had stopped by, but I'd sort of zoomed ahead to the cookout invitation, thinking Chloe would be so excited at the chance to see Kyle again that the rest wouldn't matter. Wrong.

"Well. It's kind of funny, actually."

Her light green eyes darkened a shade. "I could use a laugh. Go on."

"Shelby...ah...you see..." Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all. Chloe is tiny, just hitting five feet tall in her stocking feet, but she's tough. Even with my eight extra inches of height and G.o.d only knew how many pounds, if she wanted to flatten me, she probably could. But more than that, I worried about her feelings. Possibly, it would have been a better idea to have gone to the stupid cookout, ascertained Kyle was not the man in my drawing, and never breathed a word of it. But yeah, like I said before, we didn't keep secrets from each other.

"Just tell me."

"She saw my sketchbook and wanted to look through it. I told her sure, because it didn't occur to me to say no. Besides, that would have been weird, don't you think? And kind of rude." I looked to Chloe for affirmation, somehow wanting her approval of my actions before I explained any further.

"I'm still trying to comprehend how Shelby 'Manstealing' Whitaker ended up in your home, and how that turned into a get-together at her place with Kyle."

"Um. So. She flipped through the pages. When she came across the picture I drew last night, she stopped. She thought she recognized the man, Chloe! My soul mate! So, I kind of have to go to this thing. Just to be sure."

A spark of interest darted over my friend. "Really? Well, I guess if anyone in this world could recognize a man by nothing but his bare back, it'd be her."

"Stop that. She's not the same girl we knew back then. She's pregnant, she's happily married, and she's been with the same guy for a long time. Seriously, Chloe. You might even like her now."

Chloe scowled. "What did she do to you? Suddenly you're all chummy with the enemy." When I didn't say anything, she heaved a breath. "Fine. Who does Shelby think this guy is?"

"Well." I cleared my throat. "The thing is, it's nearly impossible to identify someone by just his back. Even with that scar and all. The most we can really do is rule out men. If they don't have a scar...or a birthmark...or whatever that mark is, or if it looks different..."

Comprehension dawned and, as it did, Chloe's entire body slumped forward. As if the weight of the understanding was greater than she could bear. "It's Kyle, isn't it? Shelby thinks the man you're destined to be with is Kyle."

I reminded myself to proceed with caution. "She thinks there's enough of a resemblance; it intrigued her. But she doesn't know why I drew that picture. She doesn't know about the magic or anything else. She just thinks it's kind of funny I happened to draw a man who reminds her of someone she knows. It's probably nothing, Chloe. Really. It's a ludicrous idea, but think of the good side. You get to see Kyle again."

"And have my heart broken for the second time when you discover he's your soul mate? How much would that suck? No thanks."