That Touch of Magic

by Lucy March

  He stared at me, misery emanating from his being. “You should kill me. You’d be doing us both a favor.”

  “No,” I said. “I’d be doing you a favor. But I’d have to live with it, and you’re not worth that.”

  And with that, I pulled myself up, picked up the briefcase, and walked out of the garden shed, leaving him alone in his misery.

  Chapter 19

  I sat across from Deidre Troudt at CCB’s two weeks later, and goddamn if that woman didn’t want another potion.

  “I’m still in training,” I said. “I can’t make potions for the public until I’ve finished my apprenticeship, and that takes years.”

  “Look, I just need it for a little while,” she said. “Darius and I can’t see each other until the situation has been officially peer-reviewed, or he can lose his license. Something about taking advantage of me in my vulnerable state, blah blah blah. Like we haven’t been together longer than most married couples, anyway. I just need something to … you know.” She quirked a brow at me. “Relieve the tension.”

  “Jesus, Deidre,” I said. “There are a lot of ways to do that, and I don’t want to help you with any of them.”

  She blinked in confusion, then gave me a wry look. “I’ve got that covered, thank you. I’m talking about something to help me with my patience.”

  “How about developing some patience?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Have I told you you’re too skinny?”

  I smiled at her. “Not today, no.”

  “Refill?”

  I looked up and there was Clementine, holding out a carafe of coffee. She’d gotten new glasses with dark, rectangular frames, and her hair was cut to shoulder length. Her uniform was the standard periwinkle dress that every waitress at CCB’s had to wear, but she looked good in it, although that probably had as much to do with being under Deidre’s watchful eye. I’d never seen a seventeen-year-old kid stand straighter.

  “Well, dig you,” I said, holding my mug out for her to fill.

  She grinned and pushed up her glasses. “I know.”

  “How’s everything going with your mom at home?” I asked.

  Her expression dimmed a little, but she managed a smile and nodded. “Better. She still says things sometimes, but…”

  “Yeah, and what do you say?” Deidre said, a glint of pride in her eye.

  Clementine smiled. “I say, ‘I’ll listen to what you have to say when you speak to me with respect,’ and then I walk away.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s working?”

  Clementine shrugged. “A little. She’s not around that much, so … it works enough.”

  “And how are things going with…?” I gave a directed look toward the front counter, where Henry sat on a stool, eating waffles. He’d been showing up at CCB’s a lot since Clementine started working there.

  Clementine went red, whispered, “Shut up,” and scurried off to refill Henry’s coffee mug.

  “Here’s to young love,” Deidre said, holding up her coffee mug for a clink. I hesitated, just a second, and then lifted mine.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Was that insensitive? I know you and North were a thing, and then he kind of disappeared into nowhere. You hear from him?”

  The bell on the front door of CCB’s jingled, and I looked up to see who had walked in. Deidre looked as well.

  “Ugh,” she said. “Him.”

  Desmond glanced around, saw me with Deidre, and headed to a series of empty seats at the far end of the counter. I picked up my purse.

  “I gotta go,” I said, and dumped a few bills on the table.

  “I can’t believe you still talk to that guy,” she said.

  “Yeah, it’s complicated,” I said. “He owes me a favor.”

  “All right.” She got up from our booth and dumped some more cash on the table. Clementine was getting a hefty tip today. “I guess I’ll see you at work pretty soon. When do you start again?”

  “August twentieth,” I said. “Just enough time to get everything in order before the fall semester starts.”

  “Great,” Deidre said, smirking. “Just what those dumb high school boys need, a goddamned sexy librarian.”

  I laughed, waved good-bye, and walked over to where Desmond was sitting. I took the stool next to his, and I could feel him tense up next to me. He always did that, and while I should be comforted at the sign that his guilt was actively keeping him in check, it made me tense, too.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Any luck?”

  There was a long pause, and then he said, “I’m sorry. Has your friend Cain found another source?”

  “Nope. His went off to Africa and disappeared into the ether.”

  Desmond nodded. “And what of your search for Leo?”

  I shook my head. “No joy. He might have gone to Africa, too, for all I know.”

  “I’m sorry,” Desmond said.

  “Eh, you know.” I shrugged and forced a smile. “Better to have loved and lost and all that, right?” I didn’t mean it. I’d fallen asleep crying every night for the last two weeks, but no way was I going to let Desmond see that.

  “I … I don’t know what to say.” Desmond looked at me, his eyes full of pain and regret.

  “Don’t say anything,” I said, “and knock it off.”

  “I’m sorry? Knock what off?”

  “If you give me that sad-sack look one more time, I swear, I’ll kill you with this spoon.”

  He smiled. It didn’t quite make it all the way to his eyes, but the emptiness was gone. He was racked with guilt and shame, and would be for a long time, probably forever, which he deserved, I guessed. I just didn’t like watching it.

  I pushed up from the counter, started to walk away, but then turned back to face him.

  “Look, if it helps at all … you did me a favor.”

  He let out a small, bitter laugh. “Indeed? And what was that?”

  “Because of you, I’m okay with my mother.”

  He looked confused. “What did I have to do with that?”

  “I accept her for who she is now, and it doesn’t bother me anymore. I don’t question what’s wrong with me that my mother doesn’t love me. It’s not me, it’s her. She’s just broken, and it’s not my fault.” I shrugged. “That was good information to have. So … thanks, I guess.”

  “You’re … um … you’re welcome,” he said awkwardly. “How is she, anyway?”

  “Nick says she’s fine,” I said. “She’s so mad at me for making her drink the cure potion that she won’t talk to me. One day she’ll start again, and act like nothing ever happened.”

  He raised a brow at me. “And you’ll forgive her?”

  “Someday, maybe,” I said, “but if I do, it’ll be for my benefit, not hers. And I think that’s a good thing.”

  Desmond watched me for a bit, then said, “I don’t understand. Why are you trying to make me feel better about all of this?”

  I stared at him for a moment, then shook my head.

  “Because I’m a good person,” I said with disgust, then walked out of CCB’s and headed home.

  * * *

  I had never been much of an exerciser. Peach, she ran for something ridiculous, like five miles a day. That’s insane. Me, I was always more a sit-on-the-couch kind of girl. Exert as little as possible. But ever since all of this happened, I hadn’t been able to sit still. I couldn’t watch television. I couldn’t read. I couldn’t go on the Internet. I would be still for a moment, and I’d think about Leo, and that never got any easier.

  So, I walked. I walked from my house to the middle of town, ten miles round-trip, every day. Sometimes twice. I couldn’t make potions anymore, not until I heard back from the conjuring trainer Cain hooked me up with, and I didn’t start work at the high school library for another few weeks, so there was nothing to do but walk. Usually, I worked my way through town, visited Liv or Peach and Nick, then headed back. On that Satu
rday, one month to the day since Leo left, I just couldn’t go near their street. I didn’t know why; maybe it was because it was that day, and I didn’t want to be at the last place I’d seen Leo. Maybe it was because it was almost sunset and I didn’t want to interrupt dinner or whatever by dropping in unannounced. Almost on autopilot, I walked over to the swing set, sat down, and just watched the town go about its business as the sun laid out a pinkish glow over Nodaway.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  My heart jumped, the voice sounded so much like Leo’s, and when I looked up and saw that it was Leo, it took me a moment to react. I hadn’t exactly been hallucinating, but the nightly dreams I’d been having of him returning to me had been strangely vivid, and who the hell knew? It was possible I was losing my mind. Stranger things had happened, and many of them had happened to me.

  He smiled, and the spark in his eye as he looked at me made my heart sink. It had to be my imagination; the real Leo wouldn’t look at me like that now.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

  I still didn’t respond, half certain he was going to fade away if I so much as breathed, afraid he’d be swallowed up by the same traitorous part of my imagination that had spawned him in the first place.

  “Kind of a strange idiom,” he said, taking the swing next to mine. “Cat got your tongue. You gotta wonder about the kind of mind that thought that up.”

  He was close enough now that I could smell the special whatever-it-was that made him smell like Leo. No matter how vivid the dream, I’d never smelled him before. Still, that wasn’t proof, and I was too scared to reach out and get that proof. I just kept staring at him, willing him to go away on his own if he wasn’t real.

  He didn’t go anywhere.

  “You’re not going to say anything?” He shrugged. “Okay. I’ll start.” He looked me in the eye, the way he used to, the way he did from the time we were kids: with love. My heart jumped painfully in my chest and I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I couldn’t. If I was crazy now and hallucinating, at least I was going to enjoy it. I wasn’t going to do anything that might send him away.

  “I left,” he said. “I know that was hard on you, but I thought it was the only way. If I had taken that potion, you might have died, and I couldn’t allow that. So, I left.” He looked at me. “You were there for that.”

  “Yeah.” I spoke in barely more than a whisper, afraid speaking would make him go up in a puff of smoke.

  There was no puff.

  “Well, let me fill you in on the stuff you missed,” he said. “I went as far as I could, trying to find someplace you couldn’t track me down, at least not before you had to use the potion on Desmond. It was the right thing to do, and I knew that, so I went. And for the first few days, it was okay. I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t miss you. It didn’t hurt. But…” He shook his head and looked at me. “Then I remembered you.”

  “You did?”

  He smiled. “Yeah. He wiped out my feelings, but he didn’t wipe out my memories. Every day, I remembered you, and finally, I was in a truck stop in Memphis—”

  “You went to Memphis?” I said. “Really?”

  “Graceland, baby. Home of the King.”

  “You hate Elvis,” I said.

  “Exactly. That’s why you wouldn’t look for me there.” He grinned at me, pleased with his own cleverness. “Anyway, I was in this truck stop and I remembered that time when we were in junior high, and you wanted to go out with me and Nick and the guys to the football game, and Nick didn’t want you to go.” He laughed, engaged in the memory. “And you followed us, about thirty paces away, ducking behind trees if Nick looked back. And there was this one moment when I looked back and you caught me looking back and instead of hiding, you touched your fingers to your lips and blew me a little kiss-my-ass kiss.”

  “Huh,” I said. “I don’t remember that.”

  “I do,” he said. “I fell in love with you that day. I remember it so clearly, how that felt, and when I remembered it that day in Memphis … I fell in love with you again.”

  It all hit me in one big painful blast of hope, and I froze on the swing as it occurred to me, for the first moment, that I might actually not be hallucinating.

  “You what?”

  He nodded, his eyes red-rimmed and happy. “So I got a motel room and I started writing down everything I could remember about you. The way you laughed. The things you did. The things you said. The way the left side of your mouth quirks up a little bit more than the right when you smile—”

  I touched the left side of my mouth. “It does not.”

  “—and I fell in love with you again, and again, and again. Every day, I woke up and I remembered and I fell in love with you again. I didn’t want to come back until I was sure, until I knew for sure that I could look at you and you would see…”

  He trailed off, his voice cracking as his chin quivered.

  “Can you see it, Stacy?”

  I got up and walked over to stand in front of him. Slowly, I reached out and put my hands on either side of his face, looking deep into his eyes.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I see it.”

  He pushed up off the swing and pulled me into his arms, one hand caressing the back of my head as he held me tight. I laughed and kissed his cheek and squeezed him. My love. My Leo. He was real and he was back and he was mine.

  Just the way it was always meant to be.

  ALSO BY LUCY MARCH

  A Little Night Magic

  Praise for A Little Night Magic

  “Readers will find themselves charmed by the quirky inhabitants of Nodaway Falls.… March’s story is original, funny.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Chick lit embraces the supernatural in this sweet, funny tale of self-discovery, friendship, and trust.… It’s the down-to-earth humor and humanity of a fiercely loyal and likable clique of small-towners who’ll keep new fans waiting for March’s next trick.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “This contemporary tale, a blend of witty dialogue, quirky characters, and strong storytelling, is one delightful read.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Filled with surprising twists and exciting turns, March’s debut is positively magical.”

  —Booklist

  “Lucy March’s writing is delightful and delicious. In the vast realm of all things paranormal, A Little Night Magic is like rain on a scorched desert: welcome and nurturing. What a wonderful treat. Every word I devoured had me craving more. Tobias and Olivia’s journey was touching, magical, and utterly romantic. I cannot recommend this book enough. Lucy March is destined to be a superstar.”

  —Darynda Jones, author of Fifth Grave Past the Light

  “Lucy March’s novels have it all; they’re sexy, funny, heartfelt, and warm, full of characters you want to eat waffles with and strange little towns you want to visit, all seasoned with a dash of the supernatural. Lucy March is sublime!”

  —Jennifer Crusie, author of Maybe This Time

  “Waffles, love, and magic. A Little Night Magic serves them up perfectly: warm, dusted with fun, and dripping with amaretto pecan caramel sauce. Keep your eye on Lucy March.”

  —Samantha Sotto, author of Before Ever After

  “Fresh and funny, warm and sexy. I can’t wait for more books from Lucy March.”

  —Susan Elizabeth Phillips, author of The Great Escape

  About the Author

  Lucy March lives in southern Ohio with her husband, two daughters, two cats, five dogs, and one best friend. Visit her at www.lucymarch.com.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THAT TOUCH OF MAGIC

  Copyright © 2014 by Lani Diane Rich.

  All rights reserved.

  For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  www.stm
artins.com

  eISBN: 9781250025913

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / February 2014

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.