Magic for Joy

by Holly Jacobs

  “Gabriel,” she started, but he was on a roll and kept talking right over her.

  “From what you said, Ripples isn’t tied to Chicago. You could move your office to Erie. I’ll donate space in my building for it. In fact, I’ll pay for the move, employee expenses and all.”

  “Joy, give him a chance,” Myrtle said, obviously unable to keep her lip zipped.

  Take a chance on marrying a man who didn’t love her? No. She tried to say the word, to tell him no, but he steamrolled over her.

  “You said you were tired of the traveling, well, here’s your chance. Stay with us. Be my wife and be Sophie’s mother. Take over the business end of Ripples and let your assistant do most of the traveling.”

  “Gabriel, I don’t think either of us would be doing the other any good marrying when we don’t love each other.” He looked like he was going to argue. She held up her hand, silencing him and then qualified, “At least not the way a husband and wife should.”

  “We’d be good together. I want you more than I remember wanting any woman.” He paused, and then added, “Sophie needs you.”

  Joy couldn’t respond. If Gabriel had told her he loved her, that he wanted to marry her because he loved her—not because he needed her and wanted her—she would have been in his arms shouting, “YES!”

  She loved him. The force of the feeling hit her hard.

  Joy Aaronson loved Gabriel St. John.

  Darn those fairies. They’d cast a spell on her.

  Myrtle shook her head. “You know we can’t do that. Love is a greater magic than even a fairy can possess.”

  “No,” she whispered. Love. It was a dangerous word, and one she didn’t relish. Love changed people, and Joy didn’t want to be changed.

  She had a challenging job she loved. Okay, the travel was getting a bit old, and she wouldn’t mind settling down, but it wasn’t a priority, and she didn’t need to get married to do it. She was the boss, the head honcho at Ripples. If she wanted to be a desk jockey, then she’d be a desk jockey. She didn’t need Gabriel to accomplish it.

  But there was Sophie.

  “Sophie needs you,” Blossom whispered.

  Sophie did need her, and Joy needed Sophie. Joy had loved her since they bumped into each other.

  “Joy?” Gabriel said softly. “I could make you happy.”

  She shook her head. “No one is responsible for anyone else’s happiness. I like you Gabriel.”

  “You love him,” Blossom said.

  “I like you a lot. And I truly adore Sophie, but I don’t think I’m cut out for a marriage of convenience.”

  “Joy, we’ve lived together, and we’ve gotten along famously. We have similar tastes in music and enjoy the quiet. We both have strong family values, and we both love Sophie. Sophie adores you. I like you, but more than that, I respect you. I have never felt this comfortable with a woman.”

  “Comfortable?” Joy asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “Yes, comfortable. With Trudi there was a lot of . . . well, upkeep. And the women I’ve dated after her liked to party and be seen. That’s why I took Helen to so many functions. Going out with women wasn’t taking Sophie to an indoor park, slime skating or bowling. It was a black tie affair. Caviar and champagne. Well, I’m more ice cream than caviar, and I think maybe you are, too.”

  “So, let’s see if I have this straight. You want to marry me because Sophie likes me, and you find me comfortable?”

  “I think Gabriel made a mistake there,” Fern muttered. “Comfortable isn’t a very romantic word.”

  “I don’t think he meant comfortable like a pair of slippers, but comfortable like,” Blossom paused a moment, apparently trying to think of a word, “Um, like a good fit?”

  Gabriel was smiling and nodding as the three fairies tried to help him out of the hole he was digging. “We’d be perfect partners. And as for the physical side, well, I think we’ll be a comfortable fit there as well. Sparks have been flying.”

  “See?” Fern cried. “Sparks. That’s better than comfortable.”

  “So, I’m comfortable, low upkeep and there’s enough chemistry that you could stand me in your bed?” Joy stood, shot a glare at the fairies, and then pressed her hands to her chest while she fluttered her eyelashes. “Well, Gabriel, that’s probably the most flattering proposal I’ve ever received. But I’m afraid, that despite your eloquence, I’m going to have to decline your offer.” She turned and stomped across the room. “Tell Sophie I’m going to Max’s, and I’ll come back tomorrow,” she yelled over her shoulder.

  “You’re breaking your promise,” Fern cried.

  “No, I’m delaying it,” Joy hissed, stalking to her truck.

  “Joy,” Gabriel said, following her at her heels. “I don’t know why you’re so upset.”

  She wheeled around and shook her head. “I’m sure you don’t.”

  Gabriel knew he’d screwed up this proposal, and he wasn’t sure how to unscrew it. “Just think about it, okay? I might not be good at putting it into words, but I think we could build something solid.”

  He knew Joy had to be able to see how good they’d be together. She was too perceptive not to see it.

  “I don’t need to think about it, Mr. St. John. But thanks for the offer.” She turned, climbed into the truck and slammed the door. He could see her mouth working as she started the ignition. Gabriel watched her speed off.

  Women. He’d never understand them.

  He sighed, shut the door, climbed the stairs and opened Sophie’s door. He replayed his proposal as he watched his daughter sleep. He was sure Sophie would be delighted if Joy came to live with them. Sophie would miss Joy if she left. So would he. Seeing her with Sophie had seemed so right.

  Why couldn’t Joy see it?

  “THE NERVE,” Joy muttered.

  “He did say sparks.” Blossom, wedged between Fern and Myrtle in the front of the truck, wasn’t about to let the sparks go.

  But as far as Joy was concerned, any sparks she’d felt had fizzled with one word. “Comfortable? I’m comfortable.” She dodged a pothole. “Is that the kind of prince charming you’d find for a godchild? Charming? Ha! A prince that’s able to settle for being comfortable?”

  “That’s not all he said,” Fern argued.

  “Sparks. Sparks are good,” Blossom chimed.

  “Girls,” Myrtle silenced her sisters. “Now, Joy.”

  “Don’t you now Joy me. He said comfortable. He wants to marry me for Sophie’s sake.” Joy wished she was on a highway, somewhere that she could put her pedal to the metal and relieve some of her frustrations with speed. Instead, she was moving at a snail’s pace along Greene Township’s dirt lanes. She played at missing potholes, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as speed would be.

  Or punching Gabriel St. John.

  “The audacity of the man. He wants to marry me because I’m comfortable, and because I’m good with his daughter.”

  “Sparks!” Blossom shouted.

  “Oh, he’ll even condescend to make it more than just the marriage of convenience that it actually would be. Maybe there are enough sparks to get him into my bed and give me babies. After all, I’m not getting any younger.” She missed dodging a particularly big pothole, and the entire truck rattled.

  “But sparks are just tiny flames. I want to be married because of a forest fire, not something that needs to be fanned into life. I want a man who’s unable to keep his hands off me, who’s drooling with desire. More than that, I want someone who loves me on more than a physical level. I want it all.”

  “With a little fanning, those sparks could become that forest fire,” Blossom said.

  “I don’t want to have to work that hard.”

  “Who ever said love was easy?” Myrtle pressed.

  �
��Darn!” Joy swore as she didn’t quite manage to avoid a Herculean-sized pothole. With the way her day was going, she’d probably end up being engulfed by a pothole and forced to wait for Gabriel to ride to the rescue.

  “Oh, that would be romantic,” Blossom cooed.

  “Darn it, don’t go prying into my thoughts!” Joy was an easygoing person, but she had reached her limit—her absolute limit.

  “Sorry,” Blossom whispered.

  “Now see what you did, Joy?” Fern’s voice was full of censure. “Blossom’s going to cry.”

  “No, I’m not,” Blossom said.

  Joy could hear the tears in Blossom’s voice and felt a twinge of regret. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t want to wait for any man to come to my rescue.”

  “That’s what Grace said, too,” Myrtle said.

  “What’s with women these days?” Fern asked. “It used to be all women wanted a white knight.

  “It’s the new millennium. If I sink into a pothole, I’ll manage to get out by myself. I can change a flat tire. I know my way around engines. I don’t need a man to ride to my automotive rescue.”

  “Everyone needs to be rescued sometimes,” Fern said. “It seems to me that you could take turns.”

  “No. I don’t need a man at all. Especially one who thinks I’m comfortable.” She dodged another hole. “See? I don’t need Gabriel.”

  “What about Sophie?” Myrtle asked softly.

  “Okay, I might need her, but not enough to marry a man who doesn’t love me.”

  “You’d love to be her stepmother,” Myrtle pressed.

  “But not at that price.” Joy missed a small hole and the truck bounced.

  “Marrying the man you love is such a heavy price to pay.” Myrtle’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.

  “Oh, shut up!” Joy shouted. “No one likes sarcastic, mind-reading fairies butting into their love life.”

  “You don’t have a love life,” Fern pointed out.

  “At least not yet,” Blossom added merrily.

  Marry a man she loved, one who didn’t love her back? Marry a man who saw her as over-the-hill and comfortable? No matter what the fairies said, it was too high a price, despite her love for Sophie.

  She dodged another pothole and was just congratulating herself on her driving abilities when a deer darted from the trees lining the road.

  “Oh!” Joy shouted as she yanked hard on the steering wheel, missing the deer by inches and hitting a huge tree instead.

  “Joy?” Three fairies stared at her.

  She sat stunned for a few minutes and then moved slowly, assuring herself that she hadn’t done any permanent damage to herself. Her left shoulder hurt where the seat belt had cut into it, and her neck felt a little stiff, but she seemed to be in one piece. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Are you three all right?”

  “We’re fairies. We don’t get hurt in car accidents.”

  Talk about a disaster waiting to happen. That’s what Joy’s mother had called her on more than one occasion. And, in this instance, Joy had to agree.

  “No, Joy. It wasn’t your fault,” Blossom soothed.

  “You’re right. It’s your fault. If you hadn’t distracted me, I wouldn’t have hit the tree.”

  “If you weren’t so stubborn, we wouldn’t be distracting you,” Myrtle muttered.

  “If you all stayed in Grace’s books where you belong, I wouldn’t have to be stubborn.”

  “Well, if you really paid attention, you wouldn’t worry that he sees you as just comfortable.” Myrtle offered Joy a hand. “You’d know he wants you.”

  Moving slowly, Joy climbed out of the truck. Country roads weren’t notorious for their streetlights, and the glow the tiny sliver of moon provided barely relieved the inky blackness. Joy couldn’t make out much about the truck, other than its front end seemed to have become fused with the gigantic tree. There was a hissing noise that didn’t bode well. Both headlights were out, so even if she could get the truck to start—and listening to the hissing sound, she doubted she could—she wouldn’t be able to maneuver on the dark roads.

  Now what?

  “Do you three fix cars?” she asked hopefully. If she had to have fairy godmothers, they might as well be of some use.

  “No, we don’t fix cars, we just fix hearts,” Myrtle said.

  “You’re not doing a very good job of that. Maybe you could do a better one with my truck?”

  “If you’d just cooperate,” Fern said, frustration apparent in her tone, “you’d make the heart part easier. If you want the truck fixed, call a mechanic.”

  Useless. The fairies were utterly useless. “Do you at least have a phone?”

  “No, we have your-own-true-love.”

  “Darn it, Fern. This isn’t funny,” Joy said.

  “No, you’re right, it’s not,” said Myrtle. “We’ll just leave you to think about things on your way back to Gabriel’s.”

  “I’m not going back there. I’ll keep going down the road and call for help from someone else’s house.”

  “No you won’t.” The three fairies blinked out of sight.

  Darn the fairies. She wasn’t going back to Gabriel’s. Joy reached into the back seat, picked up her purse, tossed it over her right shoulder, which wasn’t aching, and started to walk in the opposite direction from which she’d come.

  She was walking away from Gabriel and his comfortable marriage of convenience.

  Half an hour later, she stood in front of Gabriel’s driveway. “I’m not going back,” she called. The fairies didn’t answer.

  She started back up the road. There was a house at the corner, the one Sophie and she had passed on their way back from Max’s. Half an hour later she stood in front of Gabriel’s driveway again, though she’d headed away from it. There had been no house, just a tree-lined road.

  “Does every road lead back to Gabriel’s?” she called.

  “For you they all do,” came Myrtle’s disembodied response.

  Nine

  “I WON’T DO IT,” Joy maintained.

  “Then you’ll spend the night on the road,” Myrtle’s voice insisted.

  Reconciled to the inevitable, Joy cursed as she plodded down the length of the driveway. Just because she was using Gabriel St. John’s phone didn’t mean she was going to marry him.

  Her left shoulder still hurt from the accident, her right one throbbed from carrying her purse for so long. Her neck was getting stiffer and her head ached. But none of her injuries hurt nearly as much as her feet. She’d stumbled over rocks and into potholes so regularly, it had become a part of her cadence. Step, step, stumble, trip, stumble, step, step. She’d actually done more than stumble twice. She’d fallen, and both knees hurt. She’d actually ripped a hole in her jeans during one fall.

  “I thought you were supposed to protect your godchildren?” she called, but there was no fairy answer.

  No surprise there. The three fairies seemed to have an uncanny knack for not being around when their godchildren truly needed them. They just showed up enough to cause trouble. And going back to Gabriel’s house was trouble with a capital T. At least it was for Joy and her fragile heart.

  She tried to force her thoughts from Gabriel and his absurd proposal. She was just too tired and too miserable to fret about it any longer. She wanted to sit down, regain her strength and then kill some fairies. She doubted a jury in the world would convict her.

  She knocked quietly on the big wooden door, hoping she wouldn’t disturb Sophie. For the most part the little girl slept like a log, but today, after all her excitement, Joy wasn’t counting on it.

  She knocked again, a little louder.

  Apparently Gabriel slept as soundly as Sophie did.

  She actively thumped on the door, w
ishing the man had thought to put in a doorbell. She waited, praying she’d hear the thud of steps or see a light switch on. Neither happened.

  Now what?

  “What have you all done now?” she asked. This time she didn’t expect an answer. The vagaries of fairies. That was a great title for a book about these three. She’d have to mention it to Grace.

  “Oh, we’ll tell her. You’re right. It would be a great title.”

  “Blossom!” If one of the fairies appearing made her feel relieved, Joy definitely was at the end of her emotional rope. But relief was just what the neon-yellow clad fairy’s appearance made her feel. “Where are the other two?”

  “I snuck back to help you.” Blossom’s windsuit wasn’t nearly as bright as her smile. “Fern and Myrtle are kind of put out that you’re ruining our plan by being so stubborn.”

  “Can you unlock the door?” Joy asked hopefully.

  “No. That would be breaking and entering. A huge no-no in the fairy rule book.”

  “Can you wake Gabriel?”

  “No. Sorry. Gabriel can’t see me, remember?” She studied the porch a moment. “But, how about the window? I mean, there’s no rule in the books about me helping you break and enter. Gabriel wouldn’t mind, especially when he hears of your adventures.”

  “Maybe he’ll give me a lift into town tomorrow. I can rent a car and send someone to pick up the remains of my truck. Unless the three of you could take care of it?”

  “Sorry, dear. It’s against the fairy rules.”

  “What I want to know is just what good are fairy godmothers?” She pushed the screen up. It didn’t budge. Grunting, she pushed harder. “They can’t fix cars, can’t break and enter, and can’t open windows.” She gave up and whirled on Blossom. “There seem to be more can’ts than cans in that rule book of yours.”

  The fairy sniffed inelegantly. “We’re pretty good at finding our godchildren the right true love.”

  “There’s a problem there, too. My own true love just wants to marry me for his daughter’s sake. Because I’m comfortable. Because he’s not unattracted to me. And with my biological clock ticking, he figures we can make a baby or two before it explodes.”