Magic for Joy

by Holly Jacobs

  Her need to save the world was one of the many problems Max was forever hounding her about. But Joy didn’t think it truly qualified as a problem. She didn’t like to see people who were hurting or unhappy. Neither did Max. He tried to heal the world with psychiatry—by poking around in people’s brains. Joy preferred working at making people’s lives better, so maybe they’d learn to find their happiness on their own.

  Sophie shook her head. “I’ve never fished. Mother thinks I should be a Sophia.”

  Joy dramatically looked the girl over. “Well, I’ve studied these things for many years, and I can tell you that you most certainly aren’t the kind of girl to stay in a corner for too long. What does your Daddy say?”

  “He doesn’t say anything.”

  Joy’s heart broke, more for what she heard behind the words than because of the words themselves. “Well, I do, and I know. I was the kind of girl who was always getting in trouble. I can tell a kindred spirit when I see one.”

  “What’s a kindred spirit?” Sophie took a step towards Joy.

  “Someone who knows how you feel.”

  Sophie looked thoughtful. “Then you’re my kindred spirit, too.”

  “I thought so.” Joy and Martha had finished putting the evidence of the disaster back on the tray. “Now, I have to take this back and see if I can help Martha find something else to serve. But maybe you could meet me in the kitchen tomorrow after breakfast, and we can see about teaching you how to fish.”

  “Do you mean it?” Sophie asked, doubt in her eyes.

  “My dear, kindred spirit, you should know right now, I never say anything I don’t mean.” She struggled from her knees to her feet, tray in hand, ignoring Martha’s attempts to take it. “Now, I’ll see you tomorrow in the kitchen half an hour after breakfast. And don’t wear a frilly dress. Jeans and a t-shirt are what you’re going to need.”

  A smile burst out on the little girl’s face. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Joy started back into the kitchen, warmed by Sophie’s smile. Martha gave her a strange look, but didn’t try to take the tray again.

  “Are you really going fishing with the girl?”

  “It appears that I am.”

  That hint of a smile once again playing across her face, Martha said, “Well, I guess I could be persuaded to pack a lunch.”

  “Peanut butter and jelly?”

  Martha gave her another odd look. “Just who are you? You’re not anything like Mrs. St. John’s normal guests.”

  “Martha, you’ve learned the truth so quickly. I’m not anyone’s normal anything.” Joy laughed and Martha joined in, her face covered in a broad smile, not just a hint of one.

  “So what are we going to do about an appetizer? Mrs. St. John strikes me as the type that will expect everything just so, no excuses,” Joy asked, purposely using we, not you.

  “Then it’s lucky for us this disaster struck before we served the entree. Instead of salad, I’ll thaw some consommé in the microwave and serve that. Her-high-and-mightiness will never know the difference.”

  “What do you know about Sophie?” Joy asked. She brushed the remains of the salad, broken shards and all, into the trash.

  “Now, there’s a sad story. That little girl is a casualty of greed. The missus and her ex fought long and hard over custody of poor Miss Sophia. The missus won, and Sophia moved here last year. She’s a quiet one, forever lurking about the shadows, which is just how Ms. St. John likes it.

  “As a matter of fact, today’s accident was the first bit of fluster the child has caused in the entire year she’s been here. She mainly stays in her rooms with her nanny.” As she spoke, Martha bustled about the kitchen, a flurry of motion.

  “You can’t blame this accident on Sophie.” No, Joy was going to blame Max and Grace and Grace’s fairies. “I was lost in thought and hurrying down the hall . . . a deadly combination. To be honest, accidents seem to find me all on their own.” Joy had long ago come to accept that particular foible about herself.

  The way she looked at it, there were things that could change, and then there were things a person was just stuck with. Accidents were one of the latter.

  Thinking of the accident reminded her of fishing. She was going to have to sneak out and buy some poles. She’d seen a great pond about a mile from the St. John home, so a fishing hole was no problem.

  Martha began to refill the tray. “Ms. St. John is probably wondering where you are.”

  “Rats,” Joy cried, already racing from the kitchen. “Sorry again, Martha.”

  She hurried down the hall. She wasn’t looking forward to this meal, but it went with the job. Catching her breath outside the formal dining room doors, Joy smoothed her hair and took a deep breath.

  Think of the job, not fairies or unhappy little girls, she warned herself. The three fairy impostors were probably in that room, friends of Max’s. They’d played that horrible prank. Now she was going to guilt them out of a bunch of money. No one at Trudi St. John’s party was without a bunch of the green stuff, but when they left that night, Joy intended on seeing they left with lighter purses.

  She entered the dining room, determined no more disasters would come her way this day. She’d be charming. She’d be sweet. She would not be clumsy. Charming and sweet meant money, and Ripples needed the money.

  THE PARTY HAD gone well, but that hadn’t stopped Joy from spending her night tossing and turning. She sipped her coffee, praying that some reasonable explanation of yesterday’s fairy visit would present itself. There had been no short, bright-haired women at the party. When she’d asked Trudi, the woman had just given her an odd look and replied she didn’t know anyone who fit the description.

  To make matters worse, when she’d climbed wearily back to her room, determined to drive to a twenty-four hour store to buy poles, there had been two fishing poles at the end of her bed. Martha. That was the only explanation. Or at least, it was the only explanation Joy wanted to accept. But when she’d asked the cook at breakfast, the answer had been no.

  It couldn’t be fairies. There was no such thing. Only someone certifiably insane would believe in fairy godmothers.

  Joy didn’t feel insane. As a matter of fact, she was the most practical person in her family. No, she wasn’t insane. And for the life of her, she couldn’t decide how Max could have orchestrated the fairies, or why he would have.

  Joy’s worries took back seat as she sensed, more than heard, someone else enter the room. Without turning she said, “Good morning, Sophie. I hope you remembered to dress for the fish. They don’t like to be caught by anyone too fancy.”

  She turned. Sophie stood against the wall, tentative smile on her face. Her hair was in neat little braids, and she wore a crisp pair of jeans and a designer polo shirt. “Mother threw away all my t-shirts,” she said. “Is this okay?”

  Joy could see the fear of rejection in those beautiful little brown eyes. She gave her best reassuring smile. “You look just right. Not too messy, not too fancy. The fish will love you.” She stood. “Are you ready?”

  Sophie nodded.

  “Well, then, let’s get this show on the road.”

  Two bluegill later, they sat flicking their poles in the water. “Won’t Mother be mad if she finds you’re out here?”

  Joy laughed. “I doubt she’ll notice as long as I’m back in time for lunch.”

  “But if she did, she might not give you your money,” Sophie continued stubbornly.

  “Maybe. But I’ve gotten money out of tighter pockets than hers, so don’t worry.” Joy laughed. Being a first-rate klutz and money machine wouldn’t have seemed to go hand in hand, but Joy had found a way to combine her talents, much to her family’s dismay. With Max being a psychiatrist, and her brother Nick a lawyer, Joy didn’t think she’d ever find a comfortable spot f
or herself. Eventually she’d found her niche, maybe not as prestigious as her brothers, but it was hers and she liked it.

  “Really, it’s nothing to worry about,” Joy said with a smile.

  Despite her obvious worry, Sophie smiled back. “Let’s go back anyway.”

  “Okay, you slave driver, you win.” They reeled in their lines, and the fish were placed in a little bucket. They walked back towards the house with a slow, lazy gait.

  “I miss my daddy,” Sophie said out of the blue.

  “I’m sure he misses you, too.”

  Sophie nodded. “Mother wouldn’t.”

  “I’m sure your mother loves you.” How could anyone not love this sweet little girl?

  Sophie’s brows drew together, unsure. “Maybe.”

  Joy dropped the poles and knelt down. “Listen to me. Your mother might not be the most motherly mom I’ve ever seen, but sometimes that happens. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.

  “It sounds like your dad loves you lots too, and I’m sure you’ll be with him again. And you have me, a kindred spirit, someone to understand and hug you.”

  So saying, Joy swept the child into her embrace. For once her ample padding stood her in good stead. It cushioned the fragile spirit she hugged tight. “You and I are going to be great friends.”

  “But you won’t stay. When Mother’s given you the money today, you’ll leave.”

  “The thing with kindred spirits is they never are far apart.” She hugged the girl again. They made their way back up to the house.

  For a moment, Joy almost wished the three women from yesterday really were fairy godmothers. If they were real, she’d wish that Sophie would have a family and feel loved, really loved.

  “Done,” a voice seemed to whisper in her head. Joy turned around, expecting to see someone walking behind her and Sophie, but all she saw was Trudi St. John’s well-manicured lawn, framed by the woods in the background.

  A small shiver climbed her spine, but Joy pushed it aside. She was not going to allow Max’s weird sense of humor to spook her.

  JOY SAT IN A chaise lounge poolside, across from her hostess. Her bags were packed, and she was ready to hit the road.

  The party had been a huge success. The funds she’d raised by rubbing shoulders with Trudi St. John’s friends would keep Ripples running for a few more months anyway. Though she’d kept Ripples in the black, Joy didn’t feel a sense of accomplishment. She was leaving with money, but she was leaving behind the saddest set of brown eyes she’d ever seen.

  Last night she’d learned that Trudi St. John’s eyes were as hard as her daughter’s were sad. Joy forced herself to smile as she said, “Thank you again for hosting the event. Ripples will be able to do a lot with the money your guests contributed.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about my donation.” Trudi leaned forward.

  Joy felt distinctly uneasy. Trudi was making her feel hunted. “You’ve already done so much. But Ripples, and all the people it helps, will be happy to let you do more.”

  “Yes, well, I have a small request to make of you before I write my check. You see, I need someone to take Sophie to her father’s. William proposed last night, you see.” She flashed a huge diamond ring.

  Joy didn’t need to be an expert in gems to realize how expensive the ring was. But expense didn’t necessarily equal passion. She remembered William from last night. The term “cold fish” came to mind.

  “He’s adamant that we marry as soon as possible. His business takes him all over the world, and he wants me at his side. Marcie, the child’s nanny, refuses to make the trip to take Sophie to her father. He lives in Erie, Pennsylvania and I don’t have time to go that far. William wants to leave as soon as possible. And it’s not as if I can take a child with me.”

  “Are you asking me if I would consider taking Sophie to her father?” What kind of woman would entrust a job like that to a virtual stranger?

  Trudi, who was sprawled in the chaise lounge, lowered her sunglasses and peered at Joy over their rims. “I wasn’t exactly asking. I was bargaining. I know Ripples needs my support . . .”

  “And in order to gain that support, you think I’ll take a child I hardly know to a man I’ve never met?”

  “I think you’re a woman who understands back scratching,” Trudi said, slipping her glasses back over her eyes.

  “You aren’t hesitant about letting your little girl travel with a stranger?” Joy knew if she had a girl as precious as Sophie, she would never let her go with just anyone.

  “Hardly that. I’ve known Nick for years, and I think I’ve even met Max once or twice.” Trudi tapped her beautifully manicured nails on the arm of the chair. “And I’ve followed your work through them, and through some other acquaintances. That’s why I decided to host this fund-raiser. And of course we’ve gotten to know each other while we worked on this project. You’re a better choice than just sticking Sophia on a plane and letting her make the trip on her own.”

  “I just don’t know,” Joy hedged, though she knew she was going to say yes. If she said no, who would Trudi palm Sophie off on then?

  “Then you won’t do it?” Obviously unused to being denied, shock registered on Trudi’s face.

  Joy crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping she was playing this hand right. “I’d be happy to take Sophie to her father. This is a permanent move, isn’t it?”

  Trudi nodded. “William’s business takes him all over the world. Naturally, I’ll travel with him. As I said before, it would be impossible to take a child with me.”

  Joy held her smile inside, gripping it with the fiercest control she’d ever exercised. “Well, can you have the papers ready by the time we leave?”

  “Papers?” Trudi looked confused.

  “Of course. If Mr. St. John is taking over permanent care of Sophie, he’ll need all the legal forms signed and witnessed. What if something happened to her, and you couldn’t be reached, traveling like you’re planning? He needs to be the custodial parent on paper.”

  “I’ll call my lawyer and have him draw them up. I’m sure he can fax over the proper documents.”

  “He’d take care of it that fast?”

  Trudi just laughed. “Honey, remember the old saying money talks? Well, it doesn’t just talk, it shouts.”

  Joy almost wished the fairy godmothers were real, so she could thank them. Sophie was going back to her father. The child spoke with affection about him, and Joy couldn’t imagine he’d be a worse parent than Trudi.

  Her little kindred spirit was going to be removed from this stifling, oppressive atmosphere. Joy wanted to laugh and dance for the sheer happiness that welled within her heart.

  “I’ll have Ripples’ check ready along with Sophie and her things by tomorrow,” Trudi added, coming to the end of her monologue about William and all the things they were going to do.

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “I’ll have directions to Gabriel’s, and money to cover your expenses for the trip,” Trudi added.

  “That would be fine. Have you told Sophie yet?”

  “Oh, why don’t you see if you can track her down? Tell her I’ll be up later to say goodbye.”

  Joy left then, turned her back to conceal the smile she just couldn’t hold in any longer. Anger warred with her sense of accomplishment. Sophie was a treasure, one that Trudi had never recognized. Joy only prayed that Gabriel St. John would.

  Still smiling, she ran down the hall of the cold mansion, looking for Sophie.

  “Joy.”

  She knew before she turned around that they were back. She turned, but instead of the three fake-fairy ladies, only one stood in the quiet hall.

  “Myrtle?”

  “I’m glad you found the poles this morning. That trip was
just what Sophie needed. We were worried about how to get her back to her father. But she likes you. She’ll go with no fuss.”

  “You set this up?”

  “Of course we did. You made a wish, remember?”

  “But . . .”

  “Joy, I know you’re still trying to think of a rational explanation. Rational seems to be something you Aaronson’s excel at. You’ve tried everything from blaming Max to thinking you’re nuts. Grace had a hard time at first as well, and she created us.”

  “You’re not real.” No one in the twenty-first century had fairy godmothers . . . Myths, fairy tales, that’s all they were. “You’re not real,” she repeated, though she wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince herself or Myrtle.

  “As real as you are, in our own way. I left my sisters behind because sometimes they can be a little much.”

  Joy couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.

  Myrtle’s smile echoed hers. “Okay, we can all be a bit much. It’s Grace’s fault, really. We were created in her imagination. Now, about what we’re going to do next. I think it would be easier if we could just get past all the mental doubts, and thoughts of brotherly jokes and mental instability. Call Max and Grace.”

  “Call them?”

  “Before you leave with Sophie, call them. Ask them how they got together.”

  “I don’t have to ask. Grace had problems with some characters and went to Max for his psychiatric opinion and . . .” Joy stopped. “You three were the problem?”

  “Grace seemed to worry that she was sanity-impaired when we showed up. Just call them, and we can get past that nonsense.” Myrtle disappeared as quickly and quietly as she had yesterday.

  Call Grace and Max? How would she start, Max, I’m seeing fairies . . .

  Two

  “YES.”