A Breath of Magic (7 page)

“Oh! I didn’t realize anyone was here,” I blurted. “Sorry about that.”

Arms hanging loosely at her side, the girl offered a tentative smile. As before, she wore faded blue jeans and a white zip-up hoodie. “I like it here,” she said quietly. “It feels like a good place.”

“It is a good place,” I confirmed, waiting for her to say more. Possibly to ask if love potions were real or if I carried any books on Wicca, which were the two questions I received the most from young women.

Instead, she backed up a few paces, her gaze taking in the shop in one full sweep before returning to me. “I’m supposed to be here.”

Her statement didn’t shock me. Lots of people visited the store searching for answers. “Then I’m glad you came back. Do you have any questions, or are you looking for something in particular? I’m Chloe, by the way.”

The blue in her eyes darkened in confusion…and something
else. Sadness, maybe? “I’m Mari. I guess…well, I guess I’d like to know more about all of this.” She gestured with her hands, encompassing the entire shop. “And you. I’d like to know more about you.”

My intuition kicked into high gear, and an unexplainable need to help saturated me. “What do you want to know?”

She hunched her shoulders forward. “I don’t know. I was here the other day, and then I left, and today I came back.” She stiffened, glanced around the shop again and shivered. “I came back.”

“Yes, you did,” I said softly, reassuringly. “How can I help you?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated.

Something was off. Way off. I just didn’t know what. I couldn’t decide if this girl—Mari—was ill, high on something, scared out of her wits, or something else entirely. “Okay. That’s okay. What can—?” The phone rang, interrupting me, startling the girl enough that her complexion drained of what little color she had. “Give me a second, Mari.” I grabbed the phone but kept my eyes on her. “The Mystic Corner. You got Chloe.”

“Hey, it’s me,” said Alice. “Have a minute?”

“Actually, no. Can I call you back? I have a customer here.” Mari turned, as if she was going to leave, so I covered the phone with my hand. “Almost done,” I said to her.

“I’ll be quick,” Alice interjected. “It’s just that I won’t be able to make it tonight, but Liz will bring the drawings.”

The rushed, worried tone of my friend’s voice finally penetrated. I held a finger up to Mari to indicate I’d be a few more minutes, and then faced the wall for a little privacy. “What’s wrong?”

Alice drew in a breath. “Nothing.”

“Alice? It’s me you’re talking to. Did something else happen?”

“Not everything is about you, Chloe!” she snapped.

“That’s not even what I meant,” I said.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” A long, frustrated sigh poured out of her. “I can’t talk about this with you until I’ve talked with Ethan. Please don’t ask me any more about it.”

“Oh. Okay, then.” A blast of hurt surfaced. Sure, I understood that my role as Alice’s best friend now belonged to Ethan, though my relationship with her was still important. But even with this comprehension, I missed being the person Alice turned to first. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know that, and thank you.”

We hung up. I pasted a smile on and turned back to Mari. Except she wasn’t standing in front of the counter any longer, and a perusal of the shop proved she hadn’t decided to browse. “Well, shit,” I murmured.

She’d surprised me twice now: once on her arrival and once on her departure. And honestly? Being alone in the store on a fairly regular basis meant that I never wanted to be taken unawares by folks strolling in and out. The fact I had been, more than the girl’s odd behavior, gave me the heebie-jeebies.

Striding to the front door, I tested the bell-like mechanism that was supposed to announce comings and goings. I swung the door open, and the bell rang just fine. Repeating my actions a half dozen times resulted likewise. It seemed I simply hadn’t heard her. Strange? Yes. Impossible? No.

“Better pay more attention, Chloe,” I muttered to myself. Once again, I grabbed the teen magazine and settled in for the last few hours of the workday. Thankfully, business picked up, and before too long there was at least one customer in the shop at all times.

Though whenever the bell rang, I’d stop midsentence or midactivity and look up, 100 percent expecting to see Mari. Of course, it was never her, and as the evening continued, my concern for her ebbed away. Instead, my thoughts drifted to Alice and whatever was going on with her, as well as to
the three new drawings I’d yet to see. Thus far, I’d done fairly well at not obsessing over them. But now? Well, I wished I’d gone directly to Alice’s when she originally phoned.

My apprehension kicked up another notch as the last of the customers filed out of the store and Elizabeth and Verda appeared. I ushered the two women in, locked the front door and was all set to grab the cardboard tube clutched in Elizabeth’s hands when my gaze landed on Verda. Laughter burbled inside, so I squeezed my lips together.

“Was this done on purpose?” I asked, referring to her new do.

Verda nodded solemnly, but mischievous glints sparkled in her pale blue eyes. “What do you think? Be honest!”

Her hair, normally a gray-streaked white, now greatly resembled the interesting pale pink color of cotton candy. “It…” I searched for a compliment that wouldn’t be completely false. “…is certainly colorful! And…uh…bright!”

And really, it matched Verda’s fashion style to a tee. Today she wore lemon yellow slacks, a purple shirt, and glitter-speckled high-tops. So yeah, the pink hair was sort of like the cherry on top of a tutti-frutti sundae. “It suits you,” I said. “Truly.”

“Thank you, dear.” Preening, she patted her hair and then winked. “Verda needed a new groove.”

“Even better, the dye will wash out.” Elizabeth chuckled. “In case she decides pink isn’t the right groove for her.”

“I might try blue next time,” Verda confided. “Or maybe lavender.”

The laughter I’d barely held back erupted. “You’re awesome, Verda.” Interesting fashion choices or not, when I reached eighty-whatever years, I wanted to be just like her: confident, totally at ease with myself, ready to fight any demons necessary to safeguard those I loved. Or even just to make them laugh. “Thank you.”

“Whatever for?” Verda asked in an oh-so-innocent tone of voice. “All I did was give you something else to focus on, something you could laugh at. Besides, I’m old. Us old folks can get away with anything.” She winked again. “Even pink hair.”

Overcome by emotion, I whispered, “I love you.”

“Well, that’s good, dear. Because I love you too.” Stepping forward, she held out her arms. I walked into them and hugged her close. “We’re family. Don’t you ever forget it,” she said when we separated.

Nodding, feeling like an idiot for not recognizing the love around me sooner, I pivoted my head to hide my suddenly moist eyes, only to find Elizabeth wiping at hers. Reaching out, I clasped her hand and squeezed tight. A few minutes of perfectly balanced silence fell upon the room and we simply stood there, united as only family can be. It felt good. So good, I didn’t want to ruin it.

“Maybe I don’t have to look at those now,” I said, my gaze on the cardboard tube that held the three new drawings. “We should go to Alice and make sure she’s okay.”

“Alice is with Ethan and Rose, and they’re fine,” Elizabeth said. “If they weren’t, do you think Grandma and I would be here now? Do you think
you’d
be here now?”

“No, but—”

“Listen to me, Chloe,” Verda said firmly. “Those drawings hold information that Miranda feels you need. Don’t let fear stop you from understanding why.”

“She’s right. What would you have done differently if you’d seen the other picture earlier? Would you still have proposed to Kyle?” Elizabeth asked.

I knew she expected me to say no, but I honestly couldn’t. Nor could I say yes. I simply didn’t know. So much depended on the day, hour—hell, the very minute—I’d have come into contact with the original drawing.

But her point was clear, and Verda’s sensible, so I reluctantly
accepted the cardboard cylinder. Without allowing myself a second to reconsider, I marched to the counter and flipped the plastic lid off. “Here goes nothing.” I tipped the tube so the paper-clipped and rolled-together pages fell out onto the glass surface.

Verda and Elizabeth approached from behind, each laying a comforting hand on my back, showing their support and love. Sweet of them, and I oh so very much appreciated the sentiment, but I didn’t react. Too much was at stake. Too much required my concentration.

Hesitantly, I touched the still rolled-up papers and removed the large paper clip, nearly expecting to be torn from this reality into one of these futures I hadn’t yet seen. But the floor remained solid, the walls didn’t spin and electrifying heat didn’t course through my body. Thank God for that. One skip through time was more than enough.

I unrolled the drawings but didn’t separate them. As soon as I lifted my hand, the pages immediately rolled together again. I bit my lip in frustration and repeated my action. This time, though, Elizabeth reached forward to hold the right side down, and Verda did the same with the left. Perspiration broke out on my forehead, and my skin grew clammy.

A little voice inside pleaded with me to close my eyes, turn around and run away. I’m not ashamed to admit that I almost gave in, but the stabilizing presence of Elizabeth and Verda bolstered my courage.

Tilting my head downward, I stared at the top picture, wondering if this was the first of the three Alice’s magic had shown her that morning, or if she’d just bundled them up in no particular order. Not that it mattered. What did matter, what I needed to pay attention to, was the future each drawing depicted. And this picture—this future—held only two people: me and Kyle.

My hair hung slightly longer than I presently wore it, and
we were sitting in the middle of a room I didn’t recognize. But the furniture in the room I did. Some of the pieces were mine and some of them were his. Wedding bands circled fingers on our left hands. Neither of our smiles reached our eyes, but we appeared at ease with each other and whatever life we were leading. A shudder of relief racked me, because I knew what this future represented: The one I’d already envisioned, the one I’d put into motion with my proposal. The one I’d already decided to turn away from.

I pushed the picture up so I could view the one beneath. My vision blurred with tears as I stared at possible future number two, because in this image I was completely, heart-breakingly alone. I stood somewhere in the dark, with only the faintest edge of light illuminating my face. There were no distinguishing features in the space around me to tell me if I was in a room, outside or hovering in some strange abyss. I didn’t like this future. I didn’t like the way it made me feel, and I really didn’t like the haunting misery I saw on this Chloe’s face.

Not able to handle the emotions that this drawing brought forth, I shoved it out of the way, unearthing the last drawing. My breathing eased and the strangling tightness in my chest loosened, because in this image, I was surrounded by others. Again, though, I stood in the center of a room, but all around me were the people I loved: Ethan, Alice and Rose were in one corner, Nate and Elizabeth in another. Verda and Miranda were there too. And while in this picture, I wasn’t completely alone, I wasn’t specifically
with
anyone, either.

I dragged the other two pictures apart, so I could see all three at once. My eyes flipped from one to the other, trying to understand what each one meant, and then trying to understand what they meant as a whole—if anything at all. The answer sat there, on the edge of my consciousness, forcing
me to stare at each picture again, looking for something but not sure what. The crossroads, and me, standing in the center of it with four different paths to choose from, entered my mind in a dizzying rush.

“Elizabeth?” I said, my voice strangely calm, belying the frantic nerves jumping like grasshoppers in my gut. “The wedding picture is in the back room, in the top drawer of my desk. Can you get it, please?”

She didn’t bother with a reply, but I heard her footsteps as she raced through the shop and then back again. “Here.” She thrust the drawing into my grip.

I added the picture to the counter, so all four were in a neat little square. I soaked them in one at a time, looking for the clue that I knew was there. A crossroads. Four paths. Four futures.

But which path, which choice, led to which future? Finally, after what felt like forever, I saw the sign I’d been searching for. Or rather, I saw
me
.

In the three new drawings, the eyes of the Chloes staring back at me were, in all cases, flat and resigned, as if I’d given up on the world. Sure, the levels of desperation—sadness—differed slightly in each, the worst being the drawing in which I stood completely alone, the best with my family around me. And my future with Kyle? Solidly in the middle. Even so, they were eerily similar.

Or as Paige had so eloquently said the other day, all variations of the same endgame.

But in the wedding scene, standing next to Ben? My eyes were alight with love, happiness and excitement for a future that wasn’t shown in any of these drawings, a future that Alice’s magic hadn’t shown her: my life with Ben and whatever that might bring.

“Door number four,” I whispered. “I want door number four.”

The path that would lead me to
this
future seemed clear, and I’d already started the journey. Whatever doubts I’d had about spelling Ben—about compelling him to agree to a date—vanished in a blink. A delicious curl of anticipation brought a smile to my face and a fluttering in my stomach.

I couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

How, exactly, does one dress for a breakup date, anyway? Common sense dictates the obvious: nothing too sexy or revealing, nothing too flamboyant or bright and certainly nothing that might bring to mind any previous romantic encounters. Because you know, putting those thoughts into the head of the breakupee would only lead to disaster. Or at the very least, an uncomfortable moment or two.

Scowling at my reflection in the mirror, I confronted the truth I’d thus far avoided, and it had zero to do with what clothes covered my body. I hated hurting Kyle so much that I’d battled queasiness all day. Now, with his arrival imminent, I wished I’d listened to Elizabeth in the first place and allowed my relationship with Kyle to progress—or end—naturally. But I hadn’t listened, and the responsibility for the fallout rested solidly on my shoulders. Or in this case, swirling in my stomach.

Another glance at my reflection convinced me that the jeans and T-shirt I wore were perfectly acceptable for a variety of situations, including breaking up with someone I still cared a great deal for. But my cheeks were a smidge too pale, and the dark circles under my eyes clearly broadcast my fatigue. Hurriedly I applied a thin sheen of cosmetics, just enough to put me in the living and breathing category, and then I retreated to the living room.

Maybe if I thought about Ben and our date the following day I’d be able to calm down. When I left his office, we’d set the day and time but not the actual activity. I figured by his suggestion of an early meeting that his plan was likely a
quick cup of coffee, perhaps breakfast, and that would be that. But I had other ideas. That was why I’d insisted on picking him up, so what we did was in
my
control.

Three sharp knocks sounded, interrupting my thoughts. I sat up straighter, my eyes on the door. My queasiness spiked, reminding me that tonight wasn’t about Ben. It was about Kyle. It was about us. The door opened and Kyle stepped inside, smiling as he entered the living room.

I returned the smile and patted the space beside me on the sofa. Dropping down next to me, he rested his head against the cushion and closed his eyes with a sigh. “Hey, babe. Am I glad to be here.”

“Hey, yourself.” I watched him warily, remembering how comfortable we were with each other. As little as a week ago, I’d have scooted closer and given him a kiss. I might have laid my cheek against his chest and chatted, or I might have rubbed his shoulders to help him unwind. But I couldn’t do any of these things. Not anymore.

Sliding to the side slightly, to put a bit more breathing room in between us, I kept my voice on an even keel and started with a general, if boring, topic. “How was your flight?”

“They didn’t lose my luggage.” He opened his eyes. “And the plane didn’t crash, as you can see.”

“Well, you’re home now.” I touched his knee, skimming my hand up and down his leg in comfort—an old habit, and at first I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing. But when his hand caught mine, panic welled into a nearly bursting bubble in my chest.

Shifting forward, he kissed me lightly on the nose. I gasped and pulled away, removing my hand from his. He stared at me in question. “Is something wrong, Chloe?”

I didn’t—couldn’t—reply. An awkward quiet lurched between us, tainting the air with unease.

“Kyle…”

He held his hands up, stopping me. Which made me think that maybe, just maybe, he’d had second thoughts all on his own. Maybe
he
was planning on breaking up with
me
? I grabbed the throw pillow from my left side, clenching it in my lap, squeezing the dang thing so hard that my knuckles turned pink.

Reaching over, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “We need to talk, babe.”

Oh, my God, I was right. Relief filled me. But also, somewhere deep inside, was an old hurt. “It’s okay, Kyle,” I began again. “There are things—”

“Let me get this out first. Cool?” At my nod, he continued. “I owe you an apology. When you suggested marriage, I was taken off guard.” Red blotchy circles appeared on his cheeks. “But I have to tell you…It’s important that you know…I came here that night seriously thinking about ending our relationship.”

Somehow, this didn’t come as a surprise. Maybe it should have. Maybe another woman would have cried. But at that moment, I was absolutely calm. “I’m glad we’re being honest with each other. We haven’t been for a long time, have we?”

“I just thought you should know—”

Before he could continue, I took over, wanting to save him from as much discomfort as possible. “It was awfully quick, and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. Especially in front of Verda and Alice. I’m the one who should be apologizing.” I gulped a breath before forging onward. “So I totally get that you want to back out now. Really, it’s okay.”

I was about to give him my rehearsed speech, but he surprised me again. Lacing his fingers into my hair, he cradled my head. “No, babe. You got it wrong. I wasn’t sure about ending things. I planned on getting your take on it. But then you proposed, and I can’t explain it, but something flicked in my brain like a light switch. I saw that what we have is good.”

“But”—I fought for words, for comprehension—“you haven’t seemed happy.”

He laid another kiss on me, this time on my forehead. “I gave this a lot of thought while I was gone. Like I said I would. And I’m ready to comm—”

“Stop!” I jumped off the couch, feeling cornered, the pillow falling to the floor. “Don’t say it. Please. Just…stop.”

A confused haze flitted over his features. He picked up the pillow and replaced it on the sofa. “What am I missing, here? I thought you wanted me to pick a date for our wedding.”

“I did. But Kyle…” I forced the image of Ben into my mind. “We can’t get married.” Instantly, I winced. “God, I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

His confusion increased. Bolting from the couch, he paced the room. Suddenly, he stopped and faced me. “Is this about before? About Shelby?”

My jaw dropped open. Shelby was the girl he’d dumped me for during our last year of high school, and then, a year later, she’d dumped him for his best friend Grant. Kyle and Grant remained friends, and we visited him and Shelby on a regular basis. So yeah, the fact that Kyle mentioned her now, so many years later, in conjunction with our relationship, weirded me out. A lot. “What does Shelby have to do with anything?”

“I hurt you then, so you’re trying to hurt me now? Or are you afraid I’ll change my mind, so you’re doing it first?”

“No…and no. It’s just…well, you don’t really want to marry me. Can’t we just admit that and get it over with?” Ugh. Even though I believed that, it wasn’t the whole truth, now was it? “And Kyle? I don’t want to marry you, either. Proposing was a mistake.”

“Right, you expect me to believe that now? You’ve wanted to get married since we were seventeen! I’m gone for less than a week and you suddenly change your mind?”

I heaved a shaky breath. “I care about you
so
much. But what we have isn’t enough. You deserve more, and I want more. I want everything, Kyle! I want a man who looks at me and wants no one but me. I’ve never had that with you. Not really.”

“Then why propose? You must have thought we could make it work. I believe we can! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Chloe. I believe we can be good together.”

Okay, this conversation was spiraling downward fast. Going with the one thing I knew with complete certainty, I asked, “Do you love me the way you loved Shelby?”

He flinched as if I’d struck him. Closing his eyes, he cursed. When he opened them again, there was a pain I’d never seen before. That’s when I got it. “You
still
love her, don’t you?”

“I’ll be good to you, and I know you’ll be good to me.” He lifted his chin as a shudder whipped through his thin frame. “Shelby was my dream girl. Yes, I still love her, but she’s happy. I want her to be happy. And I’m tired of waiting around for whatever happened with her to happen again. So let’s do this, Chloe. Let’s make a life together.”

The room whirled around me, not in a magical take-me-to-some-weird-reality way, but in an I-can’t-believe-what-is-happening way. All at once, every last thing that Alice, Elizabeth and even Verda had tried so hard to bang into my head about my relationship with Kyle slid into focus. “You should have your dream girl, and she isn’t Shelby. But she’s out there…somewhere, and you’ll never find her if you’re with me.”

He lifted his shoulders in a faint shrug. “I don’t get this. Any other girl would have dropped me months ago, but you didn’t. Until now. Why now, Chloe?”

“There’s someone else,” I admitted. “We haven’t even had one date yet, but I know I’m supposed to be with him. I
won’t explain it. You wouldn’t understand anyway. But I’m telling you the truth.”

Kyle’s face froze as all emotion drained away. “In five days? I don’t believe that. That’s crazy!”

“What’s crazy is staying with someone you don’t love. And you don’t love me, do you?”

His lips thinned into a straight line as he struggled to find an acceptable answer to my question. I waited, the beat of my heart echoing loudly in my ears, knowing what his answer should be but needing to hear him say it. He stepped toward me, his honey brown eyes beseeching me. “Yes…and no. Not like you want. But can’t it be enough?”

Even with everything I knew, everything I’d experienced, part of me wanted to say yes. But I couldn’t, and not for the reason you might expect. This, for once, had nothing to do with me and everything to do with Kyle. “No, it can’t.”

“Is that your final answer?” He voiced the question lightly, as if he were joking around, but I was pierced by the sadness lurking beneath.

Nonetheless, I said, “Yes. It’s my final answer.”

And that, as they say, was that.

You know how some days start off perfect and then somewhere along the way one little thing pushes into your head, and suddenly you wonder why you even bothered to crawl out of bed? I woke the next morning to a sunny, nearly cloudless sky, my shower had plenty of hot water for once, my hair behaved exactly how I wanted and even the traffic lights seemed to be on my side during the drive to Ben’s house.

His house, by the way, sat in the middle of a well-to-do suburban neighborhood on an exceptionally large lot. The neighborhood definitely had all the trappings of the traditional. The trappings were just bigger, shinier and far prettier than those found in smaller neighborhoods.

Maybe the visual of Ben’s financial success should’ve
made me even happier, but it didn’t. It’s not that I’m opposed to wealth, but I lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, clipped coupons and had gotten to the point where I rarely bought anything unless it had a sale tag affixed. I am, however, a relentless saver, and I had a decent savings account to show for it.

No, it wasn’t so much Ben’s apparent wealth that bothered me. Rather, the increase in my stress level had to do with two things: one, it made me feel not in his league, and two, why did he live in such a large house that was so far from where he worked? Did he have a family I didn’t know about? Had I used my magic to coerce an already-married man? It was that particular thought that had me wondering if maybe I’d have been better off snuggling beneath my covers all day.

I passed Ben’s house for maybe the fourth time and started weaving my way through his neighborhood again, trying to remember if I’d seen a wedding band. Which was ludicrous. Because no way in hell would I have missed that. But not all married men wear wedding rings, do they?

I was probably overreacting. It was just a house, after all. But if even the thinnest sliver of a possibility existed that he was already tied down, I had some serious thinking to do. Was I, even with the proof of the drawing, willing to break up a marriage? How far was I willing to go? There are a million reasons why people cheat, and I’m not such a Goody Two-shoes to proclaim that there is
never
an acceptable reason, because frankly I could think of several. Well, one or two, at least. But would
I
cheat? And would I be happy with a man who cheated on me, or even
with
me?

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. No, no and fuck no. I might be a lot of things, but I am not a home wrecker. So if this was some stupid test to see how I’d react, then fate could take a flying leap and leave me the hell alone.

This time, I slowed the car as I approached Ben’s home
and actually made the turn into the driveway. Getting out of the car was easier than I expected. Knocking on Ben’s door proved to be a little more difficult, because yeah, I was still obsessed with the freaking huge house. When the door swung open, I sucked in a breath and held it, sure that the person on the other side would be a very pissed off woman demanding to know what I thought I was doing cavorting with her husband.

“So you didn’t stand me up,” Ben said, leaning his long, sexy body against the doorframe. He wore rough-around-the-edges jeans that looked to have been washed dozens upon dozens of times, a not-tucked-in white T-shirt that very easily could’ve been one of the three-to-a-bag variety, and boots. Cowboy boots, to be exact.

My breath escaped in a strangely odd combination of a wheeze and a squeal.

“No…of course not.” Oh, God. He was also fresh from the shower. I knew this by his damp-at-the-edges hair that curled slightly around his perfect face. I swallowed again. “You…ah…live in a really big house,” I murmured.

Sticking his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, he lowered his chin in a nod, but an uneasy glint flashed in his eyes. “I do.”

He could have said “Yes,” or “Sure do,” or even “Hell, yeah,” but no. The words he chose to say were
I do
. You know, the I-pledge-my-life-to-you wedding-vow words? Just like that, my wife-wanting-to-beat-the-crap-out-of-me paranoia returned with a vengeance. “Do you have a wife and two-point-five kids?” I blurted. “Or just a wife? Or just the kids?”

His skin paled a shade. Those glorious blue eyes went flat. In a cool, emotionless tenor, he said, “I’m sorry you drove all this way for nothing. It’s probably best if you leave.” And then, as if realizing how impolite he sounded, he finished off with a “Drive safely on your way home.”