That Touch of Magic (12 page)

This morning, however, I wasn’t feeling sorry for her. I remembered the touch of Leo’s lips on my forehead from last night, and thought,
Gone,
and a rush of emotions hit me. Jealousy. Anger. Resentment. For ten years, I’d been perfectly happy without love, seeing it clearly for the field of disfiguring land mines that it was, and in three days, he’d come in and ruined everything. Now there I was, holding back tears because I was standing on the edge of a field full of guaranteed pain and devastation, heartbroken because I was never, ever going to step foot in it again.

Get it together, Easter.

“Are you okay?”

I felt Liv’s hand on my arm, and with a
whoosh
I left my field of land mines and returned to the kitchen with her and Desmond.

“Yeah,” I said, and rubbed my eyes. “This is just really early in the morning for me.”

“Oh, right,” she said, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t quite buy that excuse. Still, she let it go, because she’s Liv, and Liv is Awesome.

“So … do we have any theories on what happened last night?” She had an intake of breath and looked from me to Desmond, then back again, her eyes panicked. “I mean, not with you two, I know what happened … I mean, I didn’t mind…” She hid her face behind her hands and spoke through them. “I mean … the weird magic.”

I patted her on the arm. “It’s okay, baby. No. I don’t have any theories, yet. I need some time to think about it. I’ll figure it out.”

“I think I might go upstairs and locate a missing sock,” Desmond said, standing. “Leave you two girls to talk.”

He smiled at us both, making no special effort to snap up any kind of meaningful eye contact with me, which I appreciated, and then he disappeared, which I appreciated more.

“Okay, now seriously, how are you doing?” Liv said once the last of Desmond’s footsteps faded out up the stairs.

“I’m fine.”

“You slept with Desmond. You okay with that?”

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the table. “No big deal.”

“What about Leo?”

I felt a stab in my chest, and released a thin breath. “He’s gone.”

“He
left
?” Liv sounded disappointed, which was weird, because she was the one who most wanted to duct-tape him naked to the belly of the first plane out of town.

I nodded. “Last night.”

“Stace…”

I looked up at her then. All that sympathy, all that empathy. Liv was a good woman, the best friend a girl could have, and I wanted nothing more than to get out of there, as fast as possible.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Good riddance.”

Before Liv could challenge me, Desmond stepped back into the kitchen. “I found my sock.” He handed my singed clutch to me. “And I discovered an item or two of yours, which I took the liberty of putting back into what’s left of your handbag.”

My underwear.
I smiled and took the clutch from him. “Yeah? Where’d you find ’em?”

“Ceiling fan,” he said delicately, then looked at Liv. “Thank you for your hospitality. I hope it wasn’t too much of an imposition.”

“Oh, no,” Liv said. “We have more space than we’ll ever use. This was my mother’s house. She left it to me and it’s too big, but I can’t bring myself to sell it, so…” She looked around, that wistful expression she got when she talked about her mother taking over her face. I wondered what that was like, having a mother you’d miss if she were gone.

Liv pulled out of it and smiled at Desmond. “Thank you for taking care of Mrs. Easter. It was really nice of you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

I snorted out a laugh and they both looked down at me.

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just like the Stanley Cup of politeness in here.”

Desmond gave me a casual, no-big-meaning smile. “I’m going to be late for an appointment I have this afternoon, and I rode to the wedding with you. Are you about ready to head out? Or, if you’d like, I can call a taxi to bring me to your place to retrieve my car.” He glanced around, then let out a stuttered laugh. “I’m sorry … does Nodaway Falls have a taxi service?”

“That’s cute. I’ll take you,” I said, pushing up from the table almost fast enough to knock it over. “I’ve gotta get going, too.”

Liv walked us to the door, gave me a hug, and made me promise to call her later, and then Desmond and I were out in the sunshine, walking through my town on a beautiful morning: past Peach and Nick’s house next door, with Nick’s stupid green pickup in the driveway; past Ginny Boyle, who waved and offered her good wishes for Nick and Peach from her porch where she sat drinking coffee, and would not wait for us to be out of earshot before making her round of calls about me still wearing my maid of honor dress as I shamelessly marched through town with last night’s date. Every step we took was one more step through my life that I was making with a man I barely knew, and all I could think of was escape.

“About last night…,” he began, and I held up one hand to stop him talking.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I said, pulling out Speech Number One and keeping my eyes on the sidewalk before us. “I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t need to cuddle afterward, and I don’t need you to pretend you want to see me again, or say you’re gonna call. It was an itch. We scratched. You’re off the hook.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence while we walked, and then he said. “Well, this is awkward.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m not playing games. I’m really good with just going our separate ways and remembering each other fondly.”

“No, I mean…” He paused for a moment and stopped at the corner just as we were about to hit the town square. I could see the Bug waiting for me, but now I had to stop and look at him and talk to him, because continuing to walk would be too rude, even for me.

“Actually,” he began, “I was hoping I might see you again, and now I’m not quite sure how to broach that subject. Could you perhaps clarify your fishing metaphor? Are you letting me off the hook for my benefit, or are you throwing me back for yours?”

Crap.

“I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. I just…” I closed my eyes and released a breath, trying to sort it all out in my head. I kept them closed and just talked, getting it all out as quickly as possible. “You’ve seen me naked. You’ve seen me cry. You ate breakfast with my mother. I need you for my business.” I opened my eyes. “In about fifteen seconds, you’ve somehow connected to every area of my life. It’s too close. Nothing personal, but I don’t want anyone that close. Last night, I was…” I stopped, unable to finish the thought, because it led back to Leo, and I didn’t have the strength to think about him yet. “I had a lapse in judgment and you’re footing the bill for that, and I’m sorry.”

He stood there for a moment, just looking at me, and then smiled. “I understand completely.”

“Thank you.”

We started walking again, and I felt better with every step that brought us closer to the Bug. Soon, we’d be at my place and he’d be gone and I could go inside and then I’d be able to think. Figure out what the hell happened last night. Stare at my keychain fish and maybe, just maybe, process what had happened with—

I stopped where I was. Something was ticking in my brain. Something I’d seen. Something that didn’t quite compute.

“Ms. Easter!”

A girl’s voice called my name, and it threw me from my train of thought. I blinked and looked toward the corner of Zipser Lane, the street where Liv and Peach and Nick lived, and something connected in my head.

Nick’s truck was in the driveway.

Which meant that after dropping Nick and Peach at the airport, someone drove it back.

Goddamnit, Leo,
I thought with equal parts anger and elation.

And that’s when I noticed a short, awkward red-headed girl heading toward me, crossing at Zipser Lane.

“Who is that?” Desmond asked.

“Um,” I said, trying to place her while my mind was still reeling around that damn truck. Then I focused, and remembered where I knew the kid from.
Damnit.
She seemed like a sweet kid, but telling her no again was not what I wanted to be doing right now. “It’s the checkout girl from Treacher’s IGA. Cleo. Chloe. Kelly. Something like that. Give me a minute, okay?”

I started back toward Zipser Lane, wanting to put my eyes on that truck again so I could be sure I wasn’t imagining things, but the checkout girl stood in my path. She had her long, scraggly red hair pulled into a ponytail, and her eyes welled up huge behind her thick glasses, making her look like one of those cartoon kittens.

“Ms. Easter, I really need to talk to—” She stopped as I walked right past her, and then I heard her footsteps plodding after mine.

“Ms. Easter is my father,” I said, focusing my eyes in the direction of Peach and Nick’s place, even though I couldn’t see the driveway yet from where I was. “Call me Stacy.”

“I need to talk to you … about … you know.”

I sighed, stopped, and turned to face her.

“What did I tell you the last time I talked to you, Chloe?”

She pushed her glasses up on her nose and looked up at me, clearly nervous, which was smart, because I was in a scary state at the moment. “It’s Clementine, actually. Clementine Klosterman?”

“Sorry. Clementine. What did I tell you the last time we spoke, Clementine?”

She pulled one edge of her lip under her teeth. Most girls did that to look unassuming and vulnerable, so whoever they were talking to would ease up on them. This kid was doing it because she was genuinely unassuming and vulnerable. It was like watching a live nerve walk through a thicket of brambles, and it made me tense just looking at her.

“You said…,” she began, but her throat caught, so she cleared it and started again. “You said that you couldn’t help me?”

“That’s a statement, Clementine,” I said. “When you make a statement, don’t say it like a question. It’ll make people think you’re weak, unsure of yourself, an easy mark, and they’ll take advantage of you. Let’s take another run at it. What did I tell you the last time we spoke, Clementine?”

She swallowed visibly. “Um … you said that you couldn’t help me.”

“Right,” I said. “And why can’t I help you?”

“Because I’m too young,” she said, and then started talking in double-speed desperation, “but I’m seventeen, and I’ll be eighteen next spring and—”

“What
else
did I tell you, Clementine?”

She sighed and her shoulders slumped downward. “You said that you don’t make magic potions, you make homeo—”

“Homeopathic solutions,” I said over her, finishing the sentence. “Right. Which means that I can’t make the quarterback love you, so beat it.”

“Oh, it’s not the quarterback,” she said quickly.

“Linebacker, then. Either way, I can’t help you, and I’ve got stuff to do.”

I started down the street again, and damned if her stubborn little footsteps didn’t follow me. “But I heard some stuff about things happening at the wedding last night, your brother’s wedding, and—”

I turned on her. “What did you hear?”

She skidded to a stop, visibly drummed up all her courage and said, “I heard that your mother was glowing. You know. Like magic and stuff?”

Crap.
Of course, I knew it would be all over town eventually, but that was pretty fast, even by the fiber-optic standards of the Nodaway Falls grapevine. But before I could deal with that, I had to get this kid off my leg, so I turned my attention to the task at hand.

“Yeah? In the seventh grade, people said that I had sex with Matt Grieb in the back of the bus on the way home from the class trip. That didn’t make it true.” I sighed and put my hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me, because this is the last time I’m going to tell you this. If the boy doesn’t love you without a potion, you don’t want him.”

“But it’s not just about a boy,” she said. “It’s because my—”

“Stop arguing with me, Clementine. I gave you my answer. It’s no. I respect your determination, but now is not the time, okay?”

She looked up at me with those big kitten eyes, and God help me, they started to well with tears. I let out a huff of frustration, grabbed her elbow, and dragged her down Zipser Lane with me until we were close enough to see that I hadn’t been imagining things: Nick’s truck was definitely parked in the driveway. Of course, it was possible that Nick and Peach had postponed their honeymoon to check on my mother, but … no. In my gut, I just knew, the way I always just knew about things where Leo was concerned.

Leo was still here.

I pointed. “See that fugly green truck? That truck means that the man I’ve loved since before I was your age is still in town, and the fact that I’m here looking at that truck isn’t saying much for me, either. He ripped my heart out ten years ago, and now he’s back, and I’m twenty-nine years old, and he can still level me with a touch.” I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her to face me. “I’m angry, I’m tired, and it hurts just to look at him. Is that what you want for your future?”

Clementine slowly shook her head, looking a little scared.

“Don’t fall in love now, Clementine, because when you fall in love at your age, you don’t know enough to hold anything back for yourself, and that means that for the rest of your life, he’ll be able to get in, whenever he decides he wants to, and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

That’s when I saw Desmond out of the corner of my eye, standing patiently at the end of the road, respecting our space as he waited. I met his eye briefly, got hit by a metric ton of guilt, and looked back at Clementine.

“Consider me your cautionary tale,” I said. “Now get the hell out of here.”

She nodded, then darted away with her head down, giving Desmond a wide berth as she approached him on the sidewalk. Desmond waited for me to meet him at the end of the street, and I stopped and stood there for a while, just looking at him. He seemed like a good guy: straightforward, uncomplicated, maybe a little cool but I’d had heat, and I was still nursing the burns. There was a lot to be said for cool.

“Sorry about that,” I said finally, not sure if I meant the delay with Clementine, or the fact that I’d used him to shake Leo off my skin, or if I was apologizing for me just being me. Gun to my head, I’d say all of the above.