Magic for Joy

by Holly Jacobs

  Joy slung the small pack over her shoulder and reached down to pick up the exhausted Sophie. They followed Gabriel up the stairs. A pink spread and ruffled curtains made a stark contrast to the dark wood that apparently covered the walls of the entire house.

  “Do you want to help?” Joy asked Gabriel who stood at one side of the door, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

  “I think she’d be more comfortable if you helped her.” To Sophie he said, “Good night, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re home.” He shut the door softly.

  Sophie’s eyelids were drooping as, cleaned and pajamaed, she was tucked into her bed. “You’re leaving,” she whispered as Joy kissed her cheek.

  “I’ll have to come back tomorrow to unpack all your things from the back of the truck. It’s too late tonight. So this isn’t goodbye. It’s just good night.”

  “I love you,” Sophie said.

  “And I love you, too.” She left Sophie’s room and paused on the stairway, reluctant to have Gabriel see her tears.

  He had started a fire in the huge fireplace and was sitting in one of the overstuffed wing chairs that flanked it. Obviously a man of few words, he gestured towards its twin. “Now . . .” he said, his meaning obvious.

  “I thought you knew, that your wife—”

  “My ex-wife,” he corrected.

  “I thought your ex-wife, Mrs. St. John, had called you. She’s getting married again.” Joy watched his face, waiting to see whether his ex-wife’s remarriage caused him any pain, but his face gave nothing away. She’d read a description once, granite expression, and it certainly applied to Gabriel St. John. Looking at him, it was obvious where Sophie came by her red hair. His hair was almost a brown, until the firelight hit is just right, and then it was a burning auburn.

  He was a good-looking man, almost too good looking for Joy’s peace of mind. At least six foot, and quite nicely built. Joy sighed. Yes, he was nicely put together.

  The small scar above his right eyebrow moved as his brows arched, encouraging her to continue her explanation.

  “I was ready to leave this morning when Mrs. St. John asked me to bring Sophie to you. You see, she had decided to elope with William and didn’t feel she would have the time to bring Sophie here before she left.”

  “And Trudi will pick Sophie up after the honeymoon?” Gabriel St. John’s expression didn’t give a clue as to what he was feeling.

  “My understanding is this is permanent. She’s given you complete custody of Sophie. I have the papers.” Quietly she added, “It seems William doesn’t like children.”

  The first hint of emotion flickered across his face and echoed in his surprised voice. “Trudi thought to have papers drawn up giving me custody?”

  Blushing, Joy answered, “Actually, I suggested it might be wise. You know, in case something happens and you can’t reach her. She called her attorney, and he faxed them over.”

  Gabriel sat motionless a moment, and then the stony countenance on his face broke when he smiled. It was a dazzling sight. “I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Joy told him, mesmerized by the change in the man. Looking at him caused a fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Ah, but I do.” That smile again.

  “I think I’d best be going. It’s late, and I still have to make my way back into town and find a hotel for the night. I’ll be back in the morning to unload Sophie’s things. We packed up everything: her clothes, her books and more Barbies than I’ve seen in one room. We brought it all.” Joy rose, unsure what else to say. “Could you give me directions to the nearest hotel?”

  “You can have the guest room.”

  Joy shook her head. “Really, that’s not necessary. I’d prefer staying at a hotel. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “Speaking of morning, I was wondering . . .” Gabriel hesitated.

  “Wondering?”

  “Since Sophie’s arrival was unexpected, I haven’t arranged for someone to stay with her while I work. I was wondering if you’d be interested in the job until I do?”

  Joy started to respond, but Gabriel kept talking over her. “I’d be willing to match whatever Trudi was paying you and—”

  He thought she was an employee of Trudi’s. “Mr. St. John . . .” She planned to tell him she couldn’t do it. She had an organization to run and had never been an employee of his ex-wife, but then she thought of the teary-eyed Sophie and found herself saying, instead, “I’d love to stay on and take care of her until you find someone for the job.”

  “Then you can consider room and board part of your salary, and there will be no more discussion about hotels.” He rose from his chair. “Let’s go out and get what you need for tonight. We’ll unload the rest of Sophie’s and your things in the morning.”

  “All right.” Joy’s heart was suddenly ten pounds lighter. She wasn’t going to have to say goodbye to Sophie tomorrow. Of course, she’d have to explain the real situation to Gabriel in the morning, but she had a reprieve. She followed Gabriel into the star-studded night.

  Time. She had more time.

  Looking up as a star shot across the sky, Joy made a quiet wish that her reprieve would last a long, long time.

  “YOU’RE STILL HERE!” screamed the redheaded whirling dervish who bounced onto Joy’s bed. “You’re still here, you’re still here.” Sophie leaned over and grabbed Joy in a stranglehold, squeezing for all she was worth. “I wish you wouldn’t leave forever.”

  Half awake and bleary eyed, Joy reached out and hugged Sophie back. “If wishes were horses everyone would ride. For now, we’ll just be happy we have more time.” She scooped the child up and slid her under the covers. “Now, what are you doing up so early in the morning?” she asked as she cuddled Sophie close. The digital clock on the nightstand read five-thirty.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I think there are monsters here,” Sophie whispered, snuggling closer.

  “Are they big?” Joy asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are they hairy?”

  “Yeah,” Sophie said and yawned.

  “Do they smell like oranges?” Joy asked.

  “No, like dog poop.” A small giggle was interrupted by another yawn.

  “Oh, then later today we’ll have to find them all and give them a bath, because the only monsters allowed in houses I sleep in are the ones that smell like oranges.”

  Another tired giggle erupted, muffled by the blankets. “You’re silly,” Sophie said through another yawn.

  “And you’re tired, too. Why don’t we both go back to sleep for a little while.” Five-thirty in the morning was way too early to start the day.

  “Can I sleep in here?” Sophie moved even closer, as if she was afraid Joy would somehow escape as she slept.

  Joy wrapped her arms around the slight frame. “Sure, as long as you don’t snore or hog the covers.”

  “I won’t.”

  Within minutes the little girl’s breathing was even. Holding her close as she closed her own eyes, Joy wondered how she was ever going to let Sophie go. She gave herself a mental shake. She wouldn’t think of that now. She’d enjoy the time she’d been granted, and when it was over she’d pick up and go on—just like she always did.

  “It’s all going to be fine.”

  Joy jumped. The three fairies stood in a line at the side of the bed.

  “You have to stop just popping in on me like that,” she whispered, snuggling the sleeping Sophie closer. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry.” Blossom looked anything but sorry. She looked excited. “You’re staying here?”

  “Yes. I know you three have an agenda, and my staying here is going to throw off your timetable, but truly, I don’t need you to find me a man. I’m happy.”

&nbs
p; “No, you’re not.” Fern sat gingerly on the edge of the double bed. “You’re going through the motions. You know you want a little girl of your own. Someone like Sophie to hold and love. You know you want a man to love, someone like—”

  “Like who we have in mind for you,” Myrtle said firmly. She shot a look at Fern, who got off the bed and stood slightly behind her sisters.

  Myrtle brushed her hand across Sophie’s hair. “You take all the time you need here. The child needs you.”

  “Thank you. I still don’t think I need your help finding Mr. Right,” she whispered. But she was whispering to an empty room. The fairies were gone.

  Hopefully, they would stay gone until she left the St. John house . . . or even longer.

  GABRIEL ST. JOHN peeked into his daughter’s bedroom, but no sleep-tousled head greeted him. His heart skipped a beat, but he calmed himself. Sophie was here, probably downstairs watching cartoons. Gabriel scolded himself for overreacting as he walked down the stairs, but the only thing down there was the early morning sun, shining hazily through the windows.

  He looked out the window, suddenly scared Joy and Sophie had disappeared as quickly as they had appeared on his doorstep. Or worse, maybe he’d just imagined the whole thing. Gabriel sighed when he saw Joy’s cherry red truck still parked under his pine tree.

  He raced back up the stairs and stopped in front of Joy’s room. He listened for sounds and, hearing none, cracked the door open. Peeking inside, he heaved a relieved sigh. Sophie’s wild red hair flowed over Joy, mingling with the woman’s dark brown hair. Entangled under the covers, his baby girl draped across Joy’s chest, they slept. Quietly, Gabriel shut the door.

  Who was this woman? Sophie obviously cared for her and trusted her a great deal more than she trusted him. That much was obvious. This Joy worked—no she had worked—for Trudi. That summed up his knowledge. Joy . . . he couldn’t even recall her last name.

  She had long brown hair that framed bright blue eyes and was a little on the short side—he’d put her about five-foot-three—a little too rounded to be fashionable, but she curved in all the right places. He’d noticed that last night. Not that he was looking for a woman, but a man would have to be dead not to look at an attractive woman. And Joy was attractive.

  He pushed thoughts of Joy’s curves to the back of his mind. Instead he focused on her smile. Its quickness seemed to indicate she used it a lot. It wasn’t a business smile, but one that seemed at home on her face, as if she found the world to her liking.

  Sophie’s Joy looked like a very comfortable woman. Comfortable. That would be a relief. Gabriel St. John had learned to value his comfort and would do anything to maintain it. The four years he’d spent married to Trudi had been anything but. Living hell was the term that generally came to mind when he thought about those times. He’d thought he’d found everything he was looking for. A sleek, stylish woman who would love him, who shared his interests and his goals—a woman he could love.

  What he’d gotten was a shallow woman whose only goals or interests centered around her wants and needs. Whatever had passed for love when they first met had soon died. In its place was his love for the daughter they had created together.

  Lost in memories, he made his way back down the stairs and poured a cup of coffee. Thinking of Trudi was a painful reminder of what he’d lost. It wasn’t losing Trudi that hurt, but the loss of a dream—the dream of a woman he could love and the family they would build. And losing Trudi meant losing that dream, and losing Sophie.

  For Sophie he’d stayed and tried to make his relationship with Trudi at least bearable, but in the end it was impossible. When Trudi left, he’d wanted to keep Sophie with him, but he’d lost custody. He’d tried to convince himself that Sophie would be all right, that Trudi needed time to grow into the type of mother Sophie deserved, but . . .

  But. There was always that but. His two months with Sophie in the summer and his Thanksgiving and Easter holidays didn’t seem like enough. Every time he saw his daughter, she seemed further away from him, from everyone. When he’d found Sophie in that truck last night, he’d wanted to do nothing more than hug her to him and hold on forever.

  He had Sophie back.

  The thought was so powerful it seemed surreal.

  Joy, the small woman with the big smile, had brought his daughter home to stay. All the time they’d spent apart, all the hurt he thought he saw in Sophie’s big brown eyes, all the nights he’d agonized and worried about her, all that was in the past.

  Sophie was home.

  Maybe it wasn’t the family he’d once dreamed of creating, but he and Sophie would build their own family. Now he had his chance. He’d find a way to make up the time they’d lost. He’d find a way to be the type of parent she needed.

  He’d find a way, of that Gabriel St. John was sure.

  Three

  JOY SLOWLY BECAME aware of something tickling her nose, while something else crushed her chest. Sophie.

  She forced one of her eyelids open. The world was a blur veiled through the red strands of Sophie’s hair. The little girl’s body was draped over her, clutching Joy in her sleep as if she feared Joy would disappear while she slept.

  Cautiously, Joy disentangled herself, slipped out of bed and checked for fairies. Thankfully, the coast was clear. The clock was flashing a more respectable time now than when Sophie had joined her. Eight-thirty—much later than Joy was accustomed to waking, but understandable. Yesterday had been a long day, both physically and emotionally exhausting. But Joy was refreshed now, ready to go on with her day.

  Ready to deal with fairies.

  Ready to face Gabriel St. John.

  The look on his face last night had convinced her that Sophie would not just be well cared for here, but nurtured. And Gabriel had given her a chance to stay a little longer with Sophie.

  The old sweats and t-shirt she used for pajamas were decent enough to be seen in, so Joy walked down the stairs in search of coffee. She mentally began making a list. She’d have to unpack the truck and settle both her things and Sophie’s. She’d have to call her family and let them know where she was for now. She’d have to contact Ripples and let the staff know where they could send the papers she needed to look at. She’d have to find someone to take her place at the Carmichaels’ party. And then . . .

  Coffee. She’d start working on the list as soon as she had a quart or two of coffee in her. Max yelled at her, saying she was addicted to the brew, but brothers were supposed to worry. Coffee was the magic elixir that started her rolling and kept her moving through her busy days.

  As she walked down the stairs, she realized she was too late to start the coffee—at least she was if the delicious aroma wafting up the stairs was any indication.

  “Good morning.”

  She tugged at her t-shirt, making sure she was well covered. “Good morning. If that’s coffee I smell, you’re going to have my undying gratitude.”

  He was sitting on the couch, the newspaper lying on his lap, watching her descend the stairs. “Then I guess we’re even. I owe you for bringing Sophie home, and you owe me for coffee.”

  Joy walked into the kitchen and began rooting through cupboards for a mug. Gallon-sized, preferably.

  “Left cabinet, over the sink,” Gabriel called.

  Joy found one—not quite gallon-sized, but it would have to do—and poured her life’s blood into the cup. It was a perfect amber color and smelled divine. She took a sip and sighed. “We’re definitely more than even. This is the best coffee I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve tasted coffee in every state in the union.”

  “Every?”

  “Well, I must confess, I haven’t made it to Alaska—yet. I plan to work on that this year.”

  She walked around the island separating the kitchen from the living room, sank onto the opposite end of the co
uch and took another appreciative sip.

  “Just how is it you’ve traveled so extensively?” Gabriel asked, his back turned towards his desk as he faced her.

  “I . . . well, you see, I know you assumed I worked for Mrs. St John when I came last night, but I don’t.”

  Gabriel’s face froze into the hard mask he’d worn last night. “Then, how did you come to bring Sophie home to me?” His voice had even changed. Gone was the friendly lilt that had accompanied his banter. In its place was a cold barricade that made him unapproachable.

  Joy wished she could find some way to batter down those barriers. The urge to reach out and touch him was almost overwhelming. She gripped her coffee mug instead and launched into her explanation. “Well, you see, I was a houseguest of Trudi’s and—”

  “You’re one of her friends?”

  She wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but his face and voice grew even colder.

  Joy took another sip of coffee. “Listen, it generally takes me a cup or two of coffee to get going in the morning, and I seem to be making a bigger mess of things than usual here. Why don’t I take this upstairs, drink the entire thing, take my shower and come down and begin my explanation again.”

  Without waiting for his reply, Joy rose, ready to make her escape. Her foot caught on the edge of a throw rug that was under the coffee table. She stumbled forward, tripped over the coffee table and sprawled. And that was the good news. The bad news—the worst news as far as Joy was concerned—was that she was still holding her coffee mug, and its trajectory hurled it straight at Gabriel St. John.

  Even fairy intervention couldn’t save her. The coffee landed in his lap and was obviously hot enough to send him flying from the chair. He ripped off his saturated jeans, swearing under his breath as he did it.

  “Oh, my!” Joy cried, scrambling from her ignominious position on top of the coffee table. “What have I done now? Let me get some cold water, so you don’t blister.” She ran around the island, grabbed the towel and ran cold water over it.