Spellcrossed (42 page)

Chris picked at his food, while Mom nattered on about the glories of Vermont. When our coffees arrived, he pushed back his chair and announced that he needed to take a walk.

Mom waited until the sound of his footsteps faded, then said, “He’s even more transparent than you are. Obviously, he’s told you everything.”

I nodded.

“I don’t know why he felt compelled to involve you.”

“Because he didn’t know where else to turn.”

“Maggie, Chris and I have been over and over this. He wants to get married. I don’t.”

“Do you love him?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Yes or no.”

“Of course I love him,” she snapped. “But I like my independence, too.”

“Being married doesn’t necessarily mean you lose your independence. Reinhard and Mei-Yin are hardly joined at the hip.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because it is! Now let’s drop this.”

“Are you willing to risk losing him?”

“It won’t come to that.” Her fingernail tapped a nervous tattoo against her coffee cup. Then she must have realized what she was doing, because she folded her hands in her lap and asked, “Shouldn’t you be getting to the theatre?”

“No.”

We glared at each other and retreated to our coffees.

Another frontal assault would be ineffective; when Mom was upset, she tended to fight rather than withdraw or admit her feelings.

Gee, who does that sound like?

I attempted a conciliatory smile. “You could move in together. If you didn’t want to take the plunge. That would—”

“Only encourage him to believe that, sooner or later, I’ll agree to marry him.”

I gave up on conciliatory and went for the bombshell.

“Is this about Daddy?”

Her coffee cup rattled violently against the saucer. “If you think I’m still carrying a torch for Jack Sinclair—”

“No. I think he hurt you so badly that you’re afraid take a chance with Chris. You’re scared he’ll leave you
like Daddy did. So you’re pushing him away before he can.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” She flung her napkin on the table and signaled the waitress. “But I’m afraid our time is up.”

I spent most of the show going over those conversations. I could understand if Mom didn’t want to discuss her personal life with me—or take advice from her daughter. But if she refused to open up to the man she loved, the relationship seemed doomed. Her chance for lasting happiness was slipping through her fingers, and Chris and I seemed powerless to prevent it.

I could think of only one person who might.

I followed Rowan to his apartment after curtain calls. Without bothering to remove his makeup or costume, he poured us each a healthy slug of whisky, waited for me to take a sip, then sat beside me on the sofa. He nodded sympathetically as I described the problems Mom and Chris were facing, but when I broached my plan to deal with them, he drew back, frowning.

“You want your mother to talk with Jack?”

“I don’t
want
them to talk. But I can’t think of anything else that might jolt her out of the past and save her relationship with Chris.”

“It’s their relationship, Maggie. It’s up to them to save it or not. I don’t think we should be interfering in their lives.”

“This from the faery who’s been calling Mackenzies here for more than a hundred years.”

“I called them, yes. But I never forced them to confront their problems.”

“You pushed me hard enough.”

“But I never said, ‘It’s all about your father.’ I let you discover that for yourself. Over the course of three months. Do you really think your mother will take one look at Jack and decide she wants to marry Chris?”

“Maybe not, but—”

“And what if it makes matters worse? This isn’t like giving Alex a little push toward Debra.”

“Don’t you think I know that? But I can’t just stand aside and watch things fall apart. She’s stuck, Rowan. And unless something happens to…unstick her…she’s not only going to lose Chris, she’ll never be able to move on with her life.”

“Then let me use my power to—”

“No.”

“I’m not talking about brainwashing her. Just reminding her that she loves Chris and doesn’t want to lose him.”

“She already
knows
she loves Chris and doesn’t want to lose him. And when your power wears off, she’ll be right back where she is now.”

“At least, talk to Chris first. See if this is what
he
wants.”

“I can’t. If he’s part of this, it will only convince her that he can’t be trusted.”

Rowan shook his head. “She’ll be furious, Maggie.”

“I know.”

“She might never forgive you.”

“I know!”

“Do you really want to risk everything? Not just Chris’ relationship with your mother, but yours, too?”

“No! But I don’t think I have a choice.”

The next morning, though, I called Nancy before she left for work. I’d brought her up to date on The Life and Times of Maggie Graham when she made her opening night “break a leg” call. It took less than a minute to fill her in on the latest installment.

She was silent for so long that I expected her to offer the same objections as Rowan. Instead, she said, “I think they
should
meet. Not because it will save her relationship with Chris; that’s something they have to work out for themselves. But she has a right to know about Jack.”

“Even if he’s…moving on at the end of the season?”

“I think so. But you know how I’ve hated this cat-and-mouse game you’ve been playing. Think how relieved you’ll be to get everything out in the open.”

Except the fact that my father was “moving on” to Faerie. And my lover was opening a portal so he could get there.

That afternoon, Rowan accompanied me to the cottage. I spent most of the walk steeling myself to face Jack again—and mentally vowing to keep our conversation short, sweet, and drama-free. This was a straightforward business proposition, after all, not a reconciliation.

Jack answered Rowan’s knock. His smile faded when he saw me.

As he began stammering an apology, I said, “I need you to do something for me, Jack. And if you’re willing, I promise that after the season is over, Rowan will open the portal to Faerie for you.”

I watched the shifting play of emotions across his features: confusion, wariness, disbelief, shock—and finally, a joy so profound that tears filled his eyes.

Once, perhaps, he had regarded me with such joy. Now, only the Fae could evoke it.

After all that had happened, the upwelling of grief surprised me. Resolutely, I swallowed it down. I was accustomed to losing my father. The important thing now was to keep my mother from losing Chris.

O
VER THE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, my confidence eroded. After watching me pace the living area, waiting for Mom and Chris to arrive, Rowan said, “We can still call this off. Just leave Jack in the Smokehouse and send Alison and Chris off to do some sightseeing after lunch.”

“Let’s play it by ear. Maybe they’ve patched things up and we won’t have to do anything.”

One look at their faces convinced me that the “patching up” scenario was wishful thinking. When lunch concluded, I offered a silent prayer that I was not about to make the biggest mistake in my life and sat Mom and Chris down on the sofa. I sank into an easy chair. Rowan perched on the arm and took my hand between his.

“Mom. There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Oh, my God, you’re pregnant.”

“No! No. I am definitely
not
pregnant.”

Mom heaved a sigh of relief. Then she frowned. “Well, you’re not getting any younger,” she noted in one of her maddening about-faces. “And if you two intend to stay together, I hope you’ve at least discussed—”

“Let’s save kids for another day, okay?”

She studied me suspiciously, then leaned back on the sofa with a groan. “Oh, Lord. This is like those TV shows where the family stages an intervention to save their
drug-addicted loved one. Only you’re intervening in our relationship. Thank you, no.”

“Mom…”

“Chris and I are grown-ups, Maggie, and we’d appreciate it if you would—”

“Daddy’s here.”

As Mom went rigid, I hurriedly launched into the same story I had fed Nancy weeks ago, a truer depiction of Jack’s life than the version he and Rowan had concocted for public consumption: the letter that was eventually forwarded to Rowan; his cross-country trek; the chance meeting with a group of hikers that led him to a dilapidated cabin in the mountains; and his eventual return to the Crossroads with Jack in tow.

“I wanted to tell you all of this when you came up for
Annie
, but Daddy was…well, he was a mess, and I decided to wait until he was more like his old self, and I’m sorry to spring it on you like this, but I thought…I thought…”

My voice ran down. Mom stared at her clasped hands, her lips compressed into a tight pink line. Then her head came up and she fixed Rowan with a cold stare.

“Why did you have to interfere?”

“He’s Maggie’s father. And I knew she loved him. Should I have left him there? Living like an animal? Knowing he’d never survive another winter?”

“No. You should have taken him to a hospital.”

“I tried. He ran away.”

My mother’s laugh was bitter. “That’s his answer to everything. You could have notified the authorities. They would have removed him forcibly and seen to it that he got the care he needed.”

“We were miles from anywhere, Alison. No cell phone reception. No roads.”

“Then you should have lied! Taken him to town and turned him over to people who could help him.”

“I couldn’t do that. He’d put his trust in me.”

“So you brought him here.”

“Yes.”

“Knowing it would only turn Maggie’s life upside down.”

“Yes.”

“Knowing she was probably better off without him.”

“Yes.”

“And now what?” She turned that burning gaze on me. “You’re going to become his caretaker? Waste years of your life like I did?”

“It won’t come to that.”

“My God, Maggie! Don’t you think I said that? I spent most of my marriage trying to change Jack Sinclair. And when I couldn’t, I spent the rest of it trying to keep him from going off the deep end.”

“He’s better now.”

“Running a telephone hotline doesn’t qualify you to diagnose or treat mental illness. And unless he’s given up this ridiculous search for…other worlds…then he
is
mentally ill and he needs professional treatment, whether or not he wants it.”

“When you see him—”

“I have no intention of seeing him.”

“What?”

“I’ve gone through hell for Jack Sinclair. I am not starting down that path again. And I pray to God you’ll abandon it. Because there is no happy ending here. If he’s sick, he’ll have another breakdown—and another and another until you have no choice but to commit him. And if he
is
better, he’ll leech off of you just long enough to get his life together and then walk out—again. Either way, he’ll ruin your life and break your heart in the process.”

“He can’t break my heart. He doesn’t have that power over me any longer.”

Maybe the weariness in my voice convinced her that I was stating a fact rather than protesting.

“As for ruining my life, he won’t be around long enough to do that. He’s moving on after the season ends.”

“Moving on? Where? To do what?”

“I don’t know. Neither does he.”

“Typical. And what happens a month from now—a year from now—when you get another desperate cry for help?”

I shrugged. “I’ll help him.”

“Then he’ll hold you hostage for the rest of your life.”

“He’s my father. I can’t just turn my back on him. But I won’t allow him to hold me hostage. And you shouldn’t either.”

Her puzzled frown cleared. “Now I get it. Honestly, Maggie, did you really think I’d take one look at Jack and change my mind about marrying Chris?”

I avoided looking at Rowan who had said exactly the same thing.

“Okay, it was a stupid idea!”

“No, it wasn’t,” Chris said quietly.

Mom’s head snapped toward him. “Were you in on this?”

“No. But if Maggie had come to me with the idea, I would have said, ‘Let’s try it.’ At this point, I’m willing to try anything.”

“Then try accepting how I feel! All of you.”

She grabbed her purse and started for the door.

“There’s one more thing you should know.”

With obvious reluctance, she turned to face me.

“Whether or not you want to see Jack now, you might see him tomorrow night. He’s playing the Narrator in
Into the Woods
.”

“I thought Bernie—”

“Bernie’s his understudy. And he’s playing the matinees. If Jack can’t go on—”

“Don’t pull him for my sake.”

“It’s not that. He froze during dress rehearsal. And…couldn’t go on opening night.”

“Froze? Jack?” Mom shook her head in disbelief. “Of all the things you’ve told me today, that’s the most unbelievable. Was it because of me? Did he know I would be here?”

“He learned that days ago. Just after I told him I was his daughter.”