Tami Hoag - Magic

“She seems to remember everything that happened five years ago,” Rachel said ruefully.

Dr. Moore, who had the wisdom of decades in medicine and in dealing with people, had reached out to take her hand, knowing that small comfort might soften the blow. “But she may not be able to comprehend what happens today or tomorrow. I’m not saying it can’t happen, sweetheart. At this point in Addie’s illness, it’s anyone’s guess. I just want you to realize that you can’t pin your hopes on a reconciliation, because it might never come about.”

Rachel rested her forehead against the steering wheel and closed her eyes against a wave of despair. A reconciliation with Addie was the one thing she had wanted, needed, to pin her hopes on. What else was there? Certainly not a cure for Alzheimer’s; no one knew yet what caused the disease, let alone what would cure it.

“Are we going to sit here all day, or is there some other vile place you intend to force me to go to?” Addie asked imperiously.

“We need to stop at the drugstore,” Rachel said.

“I don’t want to go to the drugstore.” The drugstore was a confusing place, aisle upon aisle of items and millions of brands from which to choose. Addie never went there if she could help it. She gave Rachel a shrewd look. “I suppose you’re going to force me to go in there nevertheless.”

“You don’t have to go in. You can wait in the car if you like.”

Too distracted to notice her mother’s sigh of relief, Rachel started the engine and pulled out of the clinic parking lot and into the flow of tourist traffic. The fog that had blanketed the coastal village in the early morning had long since burned off. The day was bright with a blue sky. Anastasia’s quaint streets were clogged with people browsing and window-shopping and admiring the carefully restored Victorian architecture of the town. Through the open windows of the car came the sounds of the traffic, the calling of gulls, and the distant wash of the ocean against the shore.

It all seemed comforting, Rachel thought. So normal and sane. She could easily grow to love Anastasia. Unfortunately, she would never have the chance. She had a job waiting for her in San Francisco when the fall school term began. A call to a former vocal instructor who was now an administrator at the Phylliss Academy of Voice had landed her a position. As soon as she had sorted out Addie’s affairs, and they had sold Drake House, they would be moving south to the city. Anastasia would be a place to visit on weekends if they were lucky.

By some small miracle of fate there was a parking spot opening up in front of Berg’s Drugstore just as Rachel piloted her car across the intersection at Fourth and Kilmer. She pulled into it and cut the engine.

“I’ll only be a minute,” she said as she grabbed up her purse and slipped out of the car.

Addie smiled serenely, her eye on the keys dangling from the Chevette’s ignition.

“So, Addie has a daughter,” Alaina Montgomery-Harrison mused, seizing instantly upon the one significant thing Bryan had said since she’d walked outside her office with him to enjoy the sun. She leaned back against the sun-warmed side of the building that housed her law practice, her smart red Mark Eisen suit a startling contrast against the white stucco. Her cool blue eyes studied her friend intently. “What does she look like?”

Bryan shrugged uncomfortably. He stuck his nose into one of the library books he’d borrowed on the history of the area and mumbled, “Like a woman.”

Alaina gave him a look. “Oh, that narrows it right down. So she falls somewhere between Christie Brinkley and Roseanne Barr?”

“Hmmm…” Glancing up with bright eyes and a brighter smile, Bryan attempted to derail her from her line of questioning. “How’s my beautiful goddaughter?”

“She’s perfect, of course,” Alaina said, idly checking her neatly manicured nails. “What a lame attempt to throw me off the scent, Bryan, really. Why so secretive?”

“I’m not being secretive,” he protested. “There’s simply not that much to tell. She’s Addie’s daughter. She’s young, she’s pretty, they don’t get along.” She cried on my shoulder, and I haven’t wanted to kiss a woman so badly in ages , he added silently, turning the pages of his book without seeing them.

“That’s putting it in a nutshell. You should get a job with Reader’s Digest. Think of the money they could save on paper if they had you to condense books for them,” Alaina said. She reached out and gently closed the book Bryan was using as a prop to evade her questions. Her gaze searched his face with undisguised concern. “Where do you fit in at Drake House?”

Bryan held his expression carefully blank. “I’m there to find a ghost.”

“And?”

“Sometimes I really despise your keen insight,” he complained. Alaina was characteristically unmoved by the remark. He heaved a sigh. “All right. It’s a tough situation. If I can in some small way help Rachel and Addie-”

At that instant a car horn blared and a rusted orange Chevette squealed around the corner. People on the sidewalk leapt back, shrieking as a wheel jumped over the curb and a trash can went sailing. Bryan’s eyes rounded in horror as he caught sight of the driver.

“Addie!” he shouted, dropping his books and taking off after the car.

The Chevette veered across the street, eliciting a chorus of horn-honking from cars in the oncoming lane, and jumped the curb into Kilmer Park. People and pigeons scattered. Addie stuck her head out the window of the car, waving and shouting for people to get out of her way .

Bryan caught up with her as she cranked the steering wheel and began driving in circles around the statue that immortalized the late William Kilmer, an obscure botanist who had grown up in Anastasia and gone on to relative anonymity. He jogged alongside the car until he managed to get the passenger door open, then he executed a neat gymnastic movement and swung himself into the moving vehicle. All he had to do then was reach over and switch the ignition off. The Chevette rolled to a halt.

Bryan heaved a huge sigh of relief. The park was full of tourists now gathering around to satisfy their morbid curiosity. Addie might have ended the earthly outing for any one of them and sent them on to a more permanent sort of trip.

“There’s something wrong with the brakes,” Addie grumbled, scowling, completely unwilling to admit she had forgotten how to work them.

Rachel ran up beside the car, her face as pale as milk. Bryan climbed out, rounded the hood, and took her by the arm. He dangled the keys from his forefinger, then closed his fist gently over them as he guided Rachel a short distance away.

“Addie isn’t allowed to drive,” he said softly, managing a half smile at the look on her face.

Rachel was too petrified to speak. She merely stared up at him, horrified at what had happened and what might have happened.

“It’s all right,” Bryan said, easily reading her feelings. “No one was hurt.”

Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Golden sparks of electricity burst through him, stunning him.

“I’ll drive us home,” he said breathlessly, not quite certain how he had managed to speak at all. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

Dazed, Rachel lifted a hand to her lips. He’d kissed her. He’d kissed her and immediately the icy terror that had filled her had melted away. She knew she was supposed to tell him he wasn’t coming home with them, but she couldn’t begin to form the words in her head. For one of the few times in her life she was rendered completely speechless. It was amazing.

“We’ll go home. You can have a nice brandy and lie down for a while,” Bryan went on as he led her back to the car. “Dinner is at seven.” He opened the door to the backseat and helped her in, then leaned down into the open window. “By the way, we dress for dinner at Drake House.”