A Hidden Magic (11 page)

Jennifer looked at Norman, who shook his
head also. "Good decision," Norman said. "He definitely makes a better impression when he's asleep."

Jennifer smiled. "No, it's not just that. In the last couple of days I've learned some very important things about appearances."

Norman could feel himself beginning to panic, and he tried to think of a way to joke his way out of a serious conversation in which he was afraid he had too much to lose. But he couldn't come up with anything and merely stared silently at the floor.

"And," Jennifer continued somewhat shyly, "I guess I've seen that sometimes the people who seem to be the easiest to fall in love with aren't necessarily the best ones to be in love with."

Norman looked up slowly and couldn't remember why he had wanted to end the conversation. He smiled and Jennifer smiled back, and suddenly he found himself laughing.

This was the first time in years that he had
done so, and now his entire body shook as he totally gave himself up to it. It started in his throat but quickly spread to his chest and stomach, on down to the very tips of his fingers and toes until he thought he'd never be able to stop again. Each time he thought he'd gained control, it would bubble up again someplace else.

Jennifer, laughing too, until tears again streamed down her face, thought once more that that was why she was seeing things. "Strange how laughter makes someone look younger," she thought, noticing there were fewer wrinkles in Norman's face.

But then she saw his white beard was definitely fading away and his hair was quickly becoming the bright, tangled red she had seen at their first meeting.

"Look, look," she cried, "the laughter's turning you young again!"

This news couldn't possibly have made him laugh any harder—only longer. And it was a
good five minutes later before they were able to stand, exhausted and leaning against the walls, with only occasional mild giggles breaking loose.

Jennifer pushed her dark hair out of her eyes. "Oh, I love stories that end 'And then everyone lived happily ever after,'" she said. But then she saw that someone was standing in the front door and the laughter died completely. "Hello, Old Witch," she said softly.

The old woman nodded but kept staring at Norman. "The magic pool and I, we decided maybe I was a bit too nasty," she finally said. "I came to let you borrow the ring to change back, but I see you don't need it."

Norman shook his head.

Looking tired, the witch nodded. It had taken her all morning to reach the cottage and she saw that her trip was for nothing. Her yellow eyes noted the condition of the mirror and the absence of the prince. She sat wearily on the edge of the bed and looked from Norman to Jennifer, back to Norman. She sensed a change in their relationship and was deep in thought for a few moments.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" she said at last. "You won't be coming back and we won't even have a neighbor anymore."

Norman didn't answer because there was nothing to say.

"There's always been a sorcerer in the enchanted forest before," the Old Witch said. She sighed, scratched herself, then repeated it more softly.

Before either Norman or Jennifer could say anything, the back door flung open and Prince Alexander strode in.

He had finally made his decision, and what he had decided was that he was, after all, the king's only son, and what he asked for, he should get—whether he wanted it or not.

He explained this very carefully to Jennifer, who looked at him all the while with a faintly amused smile. "Are you listening to me?" he asked.

"No," she admitted.

Alexander turned to the old geezer for support and noticed, for the first time, that the old geezer had been replaced by someone about his own age. He blinked uncertainly at Norman, who only smiled innocently. Alexander glanced around the room helplessly, then took a quick step closer and whispered, "Who is that beautiful lady?"

"That," Norman said, his gray eyes twinkling brightly, "is the Old Witch."

Jennifer looked up and saw the Old Witch twirling the magic ring on her finger. Only she didn't look like the Old Witch anymore. For one thing, she was very young. Her straggly gray hair was now a thick, curly mane of silver. Her ragged black clothes had changed into a flowing dark gown that shimmered with little points of color wherever the sun hit it. She gazed shyly down at her hands. And she was, indeed, beautiful.

Alexander looked at Norman as if he were crazy and walked across the room. He put on
a brilliant smile. "Hi, there," he said. "My name is Alexander. My father is the king, you know."

"Hello," the Old Witch said in a husky whisper.

"What's your name?"

"Abitare," the Old Witch whispered. "It means 'to live.'" Actually it had been so long since anyone had called her anything but Old Witch, she herself could no longer remember what her name was. But she thought Abitare had a nice sound to it, and she may have been right after all. She started to scratch but caught herself at the last second and smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress instead.

"That's a very pretty name," Alexander said. "And you have the most beautiful golden eyes."

Norman didn't hear her answer because Jennifer was frantically nudging him.

"Do you think we should tell him?" she whispered.

"We could," Norman said. "Do you think he'd believe us?"

Jennifer smiled.

And then everyone
did
live happily ever after.