The Candle Princess

by Raine Hughes

  “Master McClary was very much upset with my hot dogs.” Her wide-eyed look said she’d just understood the significance of the difference.

  By Jasmine’s voice, Noah sensed that Master McClary had been more than a little upset. A laugh threatened to erupt but he was able to swallow it as long as he kept his focus on the floor while he asked, “He didn’t like dogs?” He casually raised his gaze in time to see Jasmine shudder.

  “He was someone important to the President. It was his idea that Mister President would have votes to gain if he pledged money to an orphanage. Two hundred important people came, including the orphaned children. Master McClary commanded hot dogs. I was so pleased to give dogs to all of the children.”

  A hoot of laughter escaped Noah, he couldn’t help it. The dogs barked. He sobered, or at least tried to. “You mean to tell me that when the President got there, you produced a couple hundred of these… these hot dogs, running around and all barking at once?” He couldn’t continue as laughter overcame his best efforts to remain unmoved.

  At sight of Jasmine’s stricken look, he tried hard to regain his composure by swallowing several times, without much success. “I’m not laughing at you, Jasmine, I’m laughing with you.” Only she wasn’t laughing.

  He forged on in fits and starts that sounded as if he was being strangled as he tried to squelch his laughter. “McClary… wasn’t amused… so of course it was no laughing matter, at the time. I’m sorry, Jasmine, but it’s in the retelling that makes it funny to us mortals. We have a weird sense of humor.”

  Unshed tears shimmered on her lashes. “I know it wouldn’t have been a laughing matter, then, Jasmine.” He was able to inject a note of the sympathy into his voice though he couldn’t as yet draw a steady breath as he spoke. “That’s when he told you to go away and never come back?”

  Jasmine shook her head, sending her hair into wild motion that obviously mirrored her unsettled emotions. “He made his voice very loud and I tried to make them disappear but they only doubled and…” Her voice ended on a high pitch.

  It took supreme effort on Noah’s part to contain another outburst. He cleared his throat, twice. “I know the event was very distressing, Jasmine, and you aren’t ready to see the funny side of it, but you will. I hope you’ll understand that I, like many mortals, need a good laugh from time to time, to chase the darkness from our souls. Unfortunately, we tend to find the misfortune of others offers that amusement. It’s just our nature to resort to levity to make ourselves”—he clapped an open hand over his chest—“feel better, whether the incident warrants laughter or not.” Rather than keep looking into those shimmering, emerald-flecked liquid brown eyes of hers, he pulled her into his arms. She was tense and he continued to speak with his chin resting on her head.

  “I’m sorry if that all sounds extremely callous. You’re enchanting, Jasmine. The way you’ve told it, the story is absolutely hilarious—now. Laugh and the world laughs with you, my mom always says. I haven’t enjoyed being with someone so much in years. I’ve definitely had a darkness about me that you are dispelling, and I thank you.” He set her back from himself then wiped the bit of moisture from the corners of her eyes with the pads of his thumbs. Her skin was buttery soft to the touch.

  “Now, tell me the rest of the story, but only if you want to, Jasmine. That is not an order or a wish; it’s an invitation to share your upsets. Mom also says the telling relieves the burden.” He shook his head then nodded before adding, “I’ll apologize in advance for my easily aroused sense of humor because I think that possibly the rest of your story might set me to laughing once more.”

  Jasmine sighed but readily answered. “Master McClary told the President that a Republican trick had been played and of course they denied it. But that was not why he ordered me to leave.”

  Noah raised one brow in question. “There was something worse?”

  Jasmine nodded solemnly but gradually a bit of a crooked grin formed on her mouth. “Master McClary advised the President that they should hold a white elephant sale to raise money for charity. Of course I—”

  “—produced real elephants,” Noah chortled. “I would have loved seeing that!”

  “The elephants did not like his loudness. They began trumpeting.” She flung her hands up over her ears and cringed like she must have at the time. “Then they did a rampage through the iron fence that was a special one. When the President fired Master McClary he kept shouting to the President that I was a Djinni, that it was all my fault.” She lowered her hands. “Of course no one believed him and big men were to take him to a hospital. That is when he said, in his loudest voice, for me to leave and never come back.” Jasmine’s little smile had slipped.

  “The President let a little thing like some white elephants upset him?” Noah winked and was relieved when Jasmine forced a wan smile back into place. “I can see why he might have been a little upset but I can also see that it wasn’t your fault. Remember that, Jasmine. You just misunderstood the requests and the events unfolded in a manner different from what any of you envisioned. But, I’ll bet the kids had a great time with your hot dogs, right?”

  Jasmine finally grinned. “They did not want to leave and the dogs had fun, too. But I still do not understand why the elephants were not welcome, though I know the King of Siam bestowed them on courtiers he was displeased with. That was because the upkeep on the special elephants would be costly and create hardship on those in disfavor.”

  “Siam? Oh, that’s known as Thailand, now. That part about the King of Siam I didn’t know, but I suspect it was his way of exacting a bit of revenge.” Noah grinned. “Here, the term white elephant refers to an object that is spectacular and prestigious but is usually more trouble than it’s worth, or has outlived its usefulness to the person who has it. Having a white elephant sale where everyone brings such objects, is the only way to get rid of them and hopefully someone else will find it useful or they see it as a joke gift to bestow on someone else in fun. It typically causes a lot of laughing and teasing for both the giver and the recipient and any audience around.”

  He pointed to a life-sized china squirrel that oversaw the goings-on in the kitchen sink. It was an awful shade of unnatural green. “I got that in a Christmas gift exchange when I was in school. I gave my buddy, George, a secondhand, left-handed, catcher’s mitt. George is right-handed and doesn’t play baseball.” He struck an animated pose that he hoped she would interpret correctly.

  A beaming smile was his answer. She got the idea. Noah was relieved to see that her tears had nearly dried up.

  “There’s a lesson to be learned from all your experiences, and tonight’s hot dogs, Jasmine. Hereinafter, I will try to remember you are unfamiliar with some of our terms.”

  He dropped his head, resting his forehead on hers as he held her lightly, tenderly. “From now on, if I make any request that seems strange to you, I want you to ask me to explain. Okay?”

  * * *

  Jasmine nodded while her heart did a little flip-flop. This man, this mere mortal was not only compassionate but he also possessed a sense of humor strong enough to take the sting and shame out of the humiliation she had suffered so many years ago, even if he was laughing while he accomplished it. He said that he was not laughing at her, but with her. Looking back, she thought the children at least had been highly impressed with the hot dogs while the newspaper people had been ecstatic in reporting on the President’s white elephant escapade. They had rushed after McClary for his picture as he was whisked away. Noah’s perspective served to quell her lingering embarrassment, allowing instead for feelings of deepening affection for this master.

  “I want you to know that I’ve always wanted a pair of Corgi dogs.” Noah broke into her thoughts. “I had one as a kid and always intended on getting another but never got round to it. Now I have two. I’m not complaining. They’ll be great on my ark, Jasmine!”

  Jasmine blinked happily. Noah was easy to please, even if she did it unintentional
ly.

  “How do beans on toast sound?” he asked as he released her and went back to the task at hand. “You’ve never tasted great toast until you’ve had it burnt over an open flame.” He was already tackling a can and emptying the contents into a small pot. He laughed at her incredulous look. “Actually, it’s not all that great unless you’re out camping. Then burnt anything tastes good.”

  “You are making an amusement?”

  Noah snickered instead of answering as he shoved the beans over to her to stir while he took care of the toast by lifting a stove lid to expose the low flames inside. He placed three pieces of bread on a wire mesh holder over top of the fire.

  She had always wondered what the contraption that hung behind the stove was; another one of those things he used in an emergency since he normally used an electric toaster that gave off heat to warm her fingers over while the bread browned.

  “What kind of masters did you serve before, besides sourpuss McClary?”

  Jasmine was happy to get her mind on something other than the effect Noah continued to have on her. “First there was a Spanish buccaneer. Women are bad luck on a ship, even to pirates. Master Diego was not bothered by superstition until I refused to bring his ship close for attack on a merchant ship. He was angry and when we were nearly overtaken when I churned up a bad storm, his men wanted to remove my head.”

  Noah’s strangled gasp made her hurry on with the tale.

  “I whirled into my urn. Master Diego threw me overboard in a fury, probably hoped I would drown. He kept the brass stopper. I managed to ride the waves home,” she confirmed proudly.

  He gave a wide-eyed, slow nod at that revelation but still looked stunned.

  “That was my first failure as a Djinni, then Master McClary wished me gone. Two failures are bad; a third is final. I must not fail this time.”

  As Noah nodded sympathetically, Jasmine’s gaze faltered. “I might impose something very bad on you, too, Noah. Already, several near disasters, I have caused.”

  Noah went stock still for a moment, the silence as unnerving as the gaze she felt fixed on her. Was he contemplating the vast array of horrors that she might unintentionally inflict on him? She had to force herself not to draw away when he slowly reached over to lift her chin with a bent forefinger.

  “If we make a mistake, we will deal with it. Nothing major has happened that can’t be fixed, even the hole in my floor.”

  The sincerity of his words and his warm gaze sent a tide of tender feelings flooding over her. Noah was willing to share disastrous consequences with her! Was there no end to the compassion and understanding of this mortal man?

  Now it became imperative that she successfully handle any part she had to play in bringing his ark to this land-locked part of the country. It would be a labor of love, even while it was the task that would reinstate her with the Djinn and allow her to return home.

  Master Noah was also the one who restored the rare May birthstone to her. Unwittingly, Noah had had the emerald love stone. That had to be a sign of some sort.

  A high-pitched shrieking broke both the thought and the spell-binding eye contact. Jasmine screamed and clasped her ears.

  Noah carried the toast rack with him as he strode to the center of the room, reached up and quelled the shrieking noise. “It’s just the smoke detector.” He waved at the smoking toast. “We should pay attention to what we’re doing.”

  “The beans, they are sticking, too. I can try to make these new.”

  “I’m sure you can,” Noah conceded. “However, if we must eat our mistakes, we might remember next time not to make them.” He winked then jerked his head towards the table. “I’ll let you set the table, Djinni-style, please.”

  * * *

  Noah’s feet left the floor at the crash of breaking china and the clatter of falling cutlery. The wide-eyed horror registering on Jasmine’s face was greater than his own dismay. He opened his mouth, saw Jasmine cringe, and clamped it shut again. The dark aura was back, the same shadow that had encircled her when she related her story of the pirate to him.

  Yelling wouldn’t have helped anything, though that hadn’t been his intent. Obviously, she’d been reprimanded vigorously in the past. He shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant, and knelt to pick up the pieces. He kept his voice quiet, asking, “Does this happen often?”

  “I think my arms get crisscrossed in not the correct way, then things happen that are wrong.” There was a quiver in her voice, her tension manifested by a delivery of jumbled English.

  Noah passed her a quizzical look as she knelt with him to retrieve the cutlery. Her hands were shaking. As had happened before, he wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her, but that wouldn’t be a good idea too often. “You have to cross your arms just so?” he prompted instead.

  Jasmine nodded. “Left over right. Only I cannot always remember which is my left arm. I am so apologetic to your china. I can replace it,” she said, her head dipping lower with each word, “but maybe not tonight.”

  Noah stared at her bent head. Then he regained his feet and strode over to a drawer to paw through it. “Here,” he said triumphantly, turning back to her, “wear this for now.” He fastened a Mouse Guy watch on her slim wrist. “This is your left arm. Now, set the table, please. I have plenty more dishes and cutlery in the cupboards.”

  Jasmine hesitated, but nonetheless folded her arms, left over right, nodded, and straightaway the table was reset without mishap. Another nod relegated the broken china to the garbage bin; one more nod sent the cutlery from the floor over to the sink where it landed with a clatter.

  Noah cringed but nevertheless chuckled before giving her a broad wink.

  Her bit of laughter showed disbelief for she was plainly amazed at her success. “May I wear this all the time, Noah?” she asked, fascinated by the character that indicated the time. “It is like the cartoon mouse you explained on my nightshirt.”

  “Certainly, but I’m sure I can find something nicer to wear, a bracelet perhaps?”

  “Oh, no, please! I have never worn such wonderful timepiece.”

  Noah chuckled at her return to happiness. Jasmine was so easy to please and in this instance it had been just as easy to dispel the dark aura of despair around her.

  He suspected she was dyslexic, which would make her prone to mishap and error as well as disorganize her words. However, he’d also read dyslexics possessed above average intelligence.

  Or that they made great lovers.

  Which was it?

  Chapter 8

  Noah was still awake when he heard the clicking of dog toenails on the floor and Jasmine trying to shush their whines as she let them outside. He continued to study the dark ceiling, even though he couldn’t see it. Despite his best efforts to put behind him the waterbed transgression, as he labeled it in his mind, he’d been thinking of Jasmine again, remembering her lips, soft under his, full and lush. Just before he’d kissed her after finally gaining her attention, her eyes, ever changeable, had glittered bright as if emerald gems swam in pools of molten brown. They’d beckoned him. Her soft breasts had flattened under him as he took her lips, and his body had molded against hers perfectly.

  Then the world had fallen out from under them as God had seen fit to bring the transgression to an end. They were memories he was sure he would never be able to erase from his mind.

  No telling where that tantalizing taste of Jasmine would have taken them. Never in his life had he become so totally lost in a kiss. Was it because he shouldn’t have been kissing Jasmine to start with, despite her assurances that it was all right because her father considered her to be a flawed Djinni already? It irritated him immensely that the man thought so little of his daughter. It sounded like the Djinn King wasn’t much better.

  “Noah. Noah.”

  The softly muted calling of his name gave him a chance to redirect his focus, though of course, it was still on his houseguest, the source of all his woes.

  And pleasures.


  “I’m awake.” His voice came out gruffer than he’d intended.

  “The hot dogs are cold now. They kept me warm. Should I make them hot again?”

  Noah groaned, knowing what he had to do would tax his willpower to the limit. God hadn’t done much to help out with that, but then, it wasn’t God’s problem. It was his. So far, only when it was obvious that he was out of control, would God finally act. Oh brother did He act!

  “Wait. I’ll be right down.” He gathered up the quilts from his bed and belatedly ascertained that he was fully covered in his faded red one-piece long-johns. He added his jeans and shirt to the pile in his arms.

  Jasmine looked ethereal standing at the bottom of the stairwell in the white slinky fleece outfit, her version of nightwear. A halo of light outlined her body, making him acutely aware of how shapely she was with her tiny waist and flared hips. Seeing her framed in candlelight unnerved him. Lordy, was he in trouble if simply looking at her from afar could leave his heart feeling constricted in his chest!

  When he finally reached the first floor, he brushed by Jasmine, acutely aware of where their bodies touched so briefly. After depositing the bedding on the sofa, he needed time to get himself in hand.

  “I have to tend to the stove,” he said matter-of-factly.

  There was something calming about tending the fire and coaxing heat from it at the temperatures needed for cooking or for heating. It infused the room with a welcoming heat. Carol had refused to use it, getting an electric countertop model which she’d taken with her.

  Since Jasmine’s arrival, he found his stove served to legitimately give him something to do while he composed his thoughts, like now. He took his time, shaking the ashes out, stirring the embers, and carefully nestling new wood on the bed of coals.