Grandma's Garden

Welcome to this week's story for "Tuesday's Tales." Today's prompt was to use DADDOFILS -- or any other flower -- for our story or excerpt. I thought this would be a good opportunity to share a short story I wrote a few years ago. I hope you enjoy it.

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As I strolled through Grandma's garden, stopping to touch a tender bloom or to pluck away the weeds, memories warmed my heart.

Zinnias meant friendship, sunflowers were wishes, and the gray-green moss symbolized charity. Growing up, I spent summers with Grandma, and she made a game of teaching me about the flowers.

"They speak a language all their own, you know."

I looked up to see Grandma standing at the edge of the garden. "I thought you were napping."

She shook her head, and leaned heavily on her cane. "Can't sleep too well these days. Every time I close my eyes, I see this." She gestured with the cane toward the overgrown garden. "I can't keep up with it any more, Allison. I'm afraid it's as bedraggled as I am.”

Grandma was nearing seventy. She was still a beautiful woman in my eyes, yet I could see the changes age had wrought over the four years since I'd last visited. And I saw the sadness as she gazed on her beloved garden. For as long as anyone in Benton Springs could remember, Muriel Porter's dazzling roses and climbing clematis, her carefully-tended junipers and creeping myrtle had won the town's annual blue-ribbon award.

"The garden club will be here Sunday afternoon,” she told me. "Won't be much for them to look at this year." Slowly she turned and walked up the cobblestone path to the house. Sprigs of mint and lavender rippled in the breeze, their fragrance sweet in the evening air.

As Grandma climbed the porch steps, I made up my mind. I had to call Josh and ask for his help. It would break Grandma's heart if she didn't win that ribbon, although seeing Josh again would probably break my heart. No matter. Grandma's garden came first.

As I child, I loved visiting Grandma, and l always looked forward to seeing Josh Barron. We went swimming together in the old creek and played games of tag in the fields. Late at night, when the scent of tea roses and heliotropes hung heavy in the air, we’d sit on the porch and watch the stars.

But when we grew older, Josh wanted things I wasn’t willing to give. Even my friends called me old-fashioned, but it hurt worse when he said it.

“I don’t have time, Allison,” he said bluntly when I got up the nerve to call him. “Your grandma’s got to accept the fact she’s too old to take care of that garden. She needs to let it go.”

I wasn’t ready to let it go. The next morning I walked through the garden again, noting the work ahead of me. Weeds. Overgrown shrubbery. Rotting timbers. I barely knew where to begin. With no time to waste, I set to work.

“Still stubborn as ever, I see.”

I looked up from a petunia I was replanting. “Josh? What are you doing here?”

He pulled a hammer from the toolbelt at his waist. “I’ll nail those timbers up before they fall.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t.” His dark eyes studied me. “I know how you are once you make up your mind about something.” He looked away. "It's not a problem. I'm working for Dad's construction company. He's got a full crew right now, so I can take a little time off."

"I can't afford to pay you."

"Don't worry about it."

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, I nodded, and we settled down to work. Now and then we exchanged a few words or a glance or two. Mostly we remained silent. I wondered if Josh felt as awkward as I did.

Memories of the times we'd spent together in the past sprouted inside my head. I tried to yank them out as fiercely as I tugged at the weeds in the garden but with little success. My feelings for Josh were rooted much too deeply.

A few hours later, Grandma brought out a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies.

“Just like old times.” She smiled at both of us.

* * *

The next few days flew by. Little by little, my defenses came down, and I began to feel comfortable with Josh again. Maybe too comfortable. I looked forward to seeing him each day and enjoyed being near him as we worked and chatted casually.

On Friday evening, a lot of heavy work still remained, but Josh assured me he would finish it the next morning. When he suggested we head down to the creek for a picnic, I didn’t hesitate.

I found Grandma's wicker picnic basket, grabbed an old quilt, and together Josh and I hurried off to the corner store to pick up our usual picnic fare: sandwiches, soft drinks, and potato chips.

We spread the blanket out beside the little creek and unpacked the basket. We laughed and talked as we enjoyed the food.

But then, I realized what a huge mistake I'd made. I should never have accepted Josh's invitation. I should have known where it would lead.

Our laughter faded to quiet conversation, and the quiet conversation soon became sweet whispers. Whispers turned to tender kisses, and Josh's arms drew me close in a passionate embrace.

It felt good. So good, I could barely resist.

But somehow I found the strength I needed. I shook my head and pulled away.

"The rules haven't changed," I told him. "I can't give you what you want."

"Oh, come on, Allison! Everything's changed. We’re not kids anymore.”

“Nothing‘s different.” I hastily began putting things away. “I’m still an old-fashioned girl with old-fashioned values. I won’t compromise who I am for you, Josh.” I picked up the basket and turned toward town.

“If you walk away, Allison, don’t expect to see me again.”

I didn’t even bother looking back.

* * *

I woke up early the next morning, stirred a lump of sugar into my tea, and considered the consequences of my actions the previous evening. The garden club would be coming on Sunday. Rejecting Josh meant that Grandma's garden wouldn't be finished on time. Even if I worked all day, I couldn't complete the task alone.

Grandma would be disappointed, but I'd done the right thing, and had she known what had taken place down at the creek, she would have been proud of me for holding fast to my old-fashioned ways. That thought gave me a little solace, at least.

I finished my tea, and with a sigh, I stepped outside. I wasn't quite ready to give up yet. I'd do all I possibly could before I admitted defeat.

I heard a rustling in the garden. My eyes grew wide.

"Josh!"

He looked up from a patch of crepe myrtle.

"Morning, Allison."

"I don't need your help," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I don't need you in my life, Josh."

"I know. But I need you."

"What?"

"I need you, Allison. Today. Tomorrow. Forever." He plucked a few of the spreading vines and held them out to me. Their periwinkle blue flowers glistened with early morning dew. Josh smiled at me. “I've never told you this, but when we were kids, I used to come over here, even after you’d gone home at the end of summer. Being here made me feel good.”

“Grandma’s garden is a special place,” I acknowledged.

“She’d come out and sit with me, and tell me about her flowers. Did you know they have a language all their own?”

I stared down at the vines in my hands.

Myrtle. The symbol of marriage.

“You know, Allison, the truth is I've always respected you for being so strong, for being who you are. I love you and your old-fashioned values," he said. Still on his knees, he reached for my hand. "Will you marry me?”

* * *

If Grandma’s garden had won another blue ribbon, our story would have a perfect ending. But Grandma decided it was time to let it go. She called the garden club and told them not to bother visiting.

Yet her garden will always be a special place for Josh and me. We were married there a few weeks later. Afterward, Grandma served lemonade and cookies, and the flowers whispered their own sweet words of love.

- The End -

I hope you enjoyed this story. If you did, please leave a comment.

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Love Spells - Chapter 6

Welcome! For today's "Tuesday's Tale", I've posted another chapter of "Love Spells". If you're new to the story, you can find previous chapters here:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

TO RETURN TO TUESDAY'S TALES, CLICK HERE!

Chapter 6

“It wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked,” Ellie explained to Miranda the following morning. The two friends had taken their coffee out onto the balcony and were relaxing in deck chairs. “It scared the wits out of me, I’ll admit, but --“

“But how could you have been so careless?” Miranda huffed out a breath. “What were you doing lighting candles so close to the curtains?”

Earlier, before Miranda arrived for their usual Sunday brunch, Ellie had dismantled her altar and put away all evidence of her spell-casting. Miranda would never approve. Rather than face another lecture about David Cameron’s unworthiness, Ellie preferred to keep her desires for love -- and her rituals -- to herself.

Stefan Blackwell shared her secret, but no one else.

Ellie smiled, liking the thought of sharing something so deeply personal with the man from the magic shop. Stefan intrigued her.

“What’s wrong with lighting a candle now and then?” Ellie closed her eyes. “It brings me a feeling of peace.”

“Like meditation, you mean?” Miranda sighed. “I swear, I don’t know where you’ve picked up all these crazy ideas. Next, you’ll be doing yoga and chanting like a Buddhist monk.” She made a point to give Ellie an exaggerated eyeroll.

“And what if I do?” For some odd reason, Miranda’s negative attitudes rubbed Ellie the wrong way. Usually she listened to Miranda; most of the time, she even allowed herself to be influenced by her worldly friend’s opinions. But not this time. “I’m expanding my consciousness,” she said, parroting words Stefan had used the previous day. She wasn’t sure what the words meant, but saying them gave her a feeling of power.

Miranda stretched out her long legs, then swung them over the side of her deck chair. Slowly, she rose. She peered down her nose at Ellie. “This doesn’t have anything to do with David, does it?”

“No, of course not. David’s gone, and I’m moving on.” Ellie suspected the lie was written all over her face, but she staunchly folded her arms across her chest and dared Miranda to challenge her.

“Good.” Although Miranda did not look convinced, she offered no further argument. “Now, the important thing,” she went on, “is to get out, meet people, and start socializing again. Once you find someone new --“

Ellie cut her off with an agitated wave of her hand. “No. Don’t even think of fixing me up. No blind dates, no ladies’ night out. I’m not ready. I need a little time.”

“It’s been weeks, already. The sooner, the better.”

Ellie shook her head. “Don’t rush me. It’s like I told you yesterday, Miranda. I want to get to know myself, to learn more about who I am, to figure out what I really want and need.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Wanting to cut the conversation short before it veered in unwanted directions, Ellie swung her legs over the chair and straightened. “Did you want more coffee? Another pastry?” She gestured toward the open doorway that led back into her apartment.

“No, nothing more for me.” Miranda glanced at her watch. “I suppose I should get home and leave you to your self-discovery. Call me when you find yourself, all right?”

For a moment, Ellie remained silent, a dozen different thoughts flitting through her head. Was Miranda joking? Teasing? Taunting? Or was she being serious...in her own way? Ellie couldn’t be sure, and she didn’t know how to respond.

“Well, I --“ she began, but a heavy knock sounded at the front door, so loud and insistent that Ellie and Miranda both heard it clearly from the balcony outside.

“Expecting someone?” Miranda asked.

Ellie’s heart pounded. “No, no one.” She thought at once of her ritual. If she opened the door, would David be standing on the other side? With Miranda following on her heels, she hurried to answer.

“Hi, Ellie. I thought I’d stop by to check on you. Everything all right this morning?” Stefan Blackwell leaned against the doorframe. Dressed in faded denims and a loose T-shirt, he still exuded confidence and masculine energy.

She felt a tug at her arm. Suddenly Miranda was dragging her toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right back, Stefan,” she called. Once out of the man’s sight, she jerked her arm away from her friend’s grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You have been keeping something from me! Who is he? Where did you meet him? Tell me everything!”

“Not now. And it’s not what you think. I’ll explain later, all right?” Ellie left Miranda in the middle of the kitchen and returned to the doorway. “Sorry about that, Stefan. Would you like to come in?”

“No, that’s all right. You’re busy.”

“Not really. You’re more than welcome to come in. I’ve got coffee. And pastries.”

“I don’t do coffee, and sweets aren’t exactly my thing, either.” He grinned. “But thanks, anyway.” He reached into a back pocket. “I brought you something, Ellie. This might be a good way for you to begin your spiritual journey.” He handed her a small box. “Tarot cards,” he said.

Ellie stared at the colorful box. She’d seen different decks of cards at Stefan’s shop. The pictures had caught her interest. He must have noticed.

“What do I do with them?”

“There are instructions with the deck, if you want to read them. But mostly, for now, just look at them. Lay them out. Touch them. Think about what you see. Think about what you feel.”

Ellie nodded. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if Miranda were listening. When she turned back, Stefan had disappeared from view. She heard his footsteps retreating down the wooden stairway of the apartment building.

With a sigh, she closed the door.

Miranda practically ran from the kitchen. “All right, tell me! Everything. He’s gorgeous!”

“It’s not what you think,” Ellie said again. “He’s --“

My friend.

My teacher.

My rescuer.

“He’s...what?” Miranda prompted.

Ellie grinned. “Sort of like my guru, I guess. He knows a lot of things. Eastern philosophies. New Age ideas. Spiritual practices.”

“Oh, I see. So, that’s why you’ve suddenly developed such a keen interest in meditation.” She raked Ellie with a knowing gaze.

“He gave me these.” Ellie held out the deck of cards. “Do you have any idea how to use them?”

Miranda drew back. Her face paled. “Ellie, those are dangerous!”

“Dangerous? They’re nothing but colorful pasteboard.”

“They’re the devil’s picturebook. That’s what they’re called.” She reached out and took hold of Ellie’s shoulders. “That man may be handsome, but don’t trust him. He could very well be the devil himself.” She shuddered. “As for those cards, I’d suggest you burn them.”

Visions of Stefan surrounded by flames crept from Ellie’s memory.

Her knees went weak as she recalled the raging fire, the billowing smoke. Stefan had stepped into the inferno, yet he’d not been burned. Once he’d put out the flames, there’d been virtually no damage...just a bit of soot, a few ashes, and the charred remains of her love spell for David.

What mysterious powers did Stefan Blackwell possess?

Perhaps she should be frightened, but Ellie wanted only to learn more.

“I’d like to be alone now,” she said, and even as she spoke the words, she heard something new and different in her voice. She walked toward the door, opened it, and turned to Miranda. “I’ll call you later.”

“All right. But be careful, Ellie. Burn those cards! And don’t let that devil get too close.”

She closed the door behind Miranda and clasped the cards to her chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic beating of her heart.

Whoever Stefan Blackwell was -- friend, teacher, rescuer, or devil -- he had a powerful effect upon her.

He’s shared his power with me.

Ellie glanced down at the deck of cards she held. Holding her breath, she tore the wrapping from the box and opened it. She closed her eyes and pulled a single card from the deck.

Listen to your intuition. Trust what the inner voice tells you.

With trembling hands, she turned the card over.

The devil stared back.

- TO BE CONTINUED -

Love Spells - Chapter 5

Here's the next chapter of Love Spells.

To read previous chapters, click on the links below:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

To return to TUESDAY'S TALES, click HERE.

"Ellie! Ellie!"

She heard someone calling her name but couldn't identify the voice. Was it even real? She couldn't be sure. It was only when someone grabbed her arms and dragged her away from the heat and smoke that she knew she was not dreaming. She tried to look at her rescuer, but the thick, acrid smoke burned and stung her eyes.

“Climb down,” the man instructed, pushing her toward the railing of the balcony. “It’s only a short drop. You won’t hurt yourself.” He left her standing there alone.

She forced her eyes open and looked toward the doorway, ringed in flame. The man who’d saved her now slithered through the entrance, crawling below the billowing smoke. Ellie coughed. Her nose itched and her lungs burned.

Her face burned, too -- from sheer embarrassment. How could she have been so foolish? So careless? As so often happened, her thoughts of David had taken possession and she’d lost all good sense.

She still stood near the railing, staring at the doorway. She saw a pair of blanket-covered hands reach out and press against the doorframe, quickly smothering the flames. Moments later, the fire was extinguished and Stefan Blackwell stepped through the sooty, blackened opening.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I told you to climb down. Are you all right?”

“Yes, but why are you here?”

“Fate, I suppose.” He grinned. “A psychic connection, maybe? I must have known you were in trouble.”

Ellie gasped. “But -- how?”

Stefan laughed. “Actually, I was returning your handbag. You left it at the shop earlier.” He came to the railing and pointed to the grass below. “I dropped it there when I saw the fire and realized what was happening.”

This man must think her a complete idiot! Losing her handbag, setting her apartment on fire...and performing nightly rituals to win back an unfaithful lover. What foolishness!

Staring down at the wooden slats of the deck, she stammered her thanks.

Stefan shrugged off her words. “Glad I was able to help. Like I said, it must have been fate that brought me here at just the right time.” He took a step toward her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Shaken up, but otherwise fine, I think.” Ellie looked at his smoke-smudged cheeks. “What about you?” Funny, but she’d never noticed before how attractive Stefan was. Seeing him now in the pale moonlight, she trembled slightly. He seemed to almost glow.

“I’ll survive. I always do.” He touched a hand to his forehead in a salute, then swung his long legs over the railing. He dropped to the ground, picked up Ellie’s bag, and tossed it up. “Got it?”

“Yes, thank you. For everything.”

She stood watching as Stefan disappeared into the darkness of the night.

With a sigh, Ellie stepped inside. Although the fire had frightened her out of her wits, it had actually done little damage -- thanks to Stefan Blackwell’s fortuitous arrival on the scene. She winced when she glanced at her makeshift altar, the silk scarf now covered with globs of melted pink wax. Bending down, she touched the paper where she’d written David’s name along with her own. The charred page crinkled and fell to pieces in her hand.

How fitting. Just like our relationship.

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. Earlier, when she’d been at Stefan’s shop, he’d spoken to her of signs and symbols. She could learn much by simply observing, he’d said. At once, she recognized the truth behind his words -- and behind the calamitous events of the night.

Maybe her love for David was too hot for her to handle.

Maybe winning him back could be a dangerous thing.

And maybe Stefan Blackwell had come into her life for a reason.

Love Spells - Chapter 4

Welcome! With this week's Tuesday's Tales prompt -- sky -- I've returned to Love Spells. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

If you're new to the story and would like to read previous chapters, you can click on the links below:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

TO RETURN TO TUESDAY'S TALES, PLEASE CLICK HERE!

Ellie stood in the center of the room and glanced about. A small desk piled with books and papers sat against the far wall next to a few metal folding chairs. A shaggy, thread-bare carpet graced the scarred floor. Sky charts and drawings of constellations hung on the dull gray walls, giving it more the air of a stuffy schoolroom than a place where magic could happen. Ellie tried to hide her disappointment.

"Not what you were expecting, is it?" Stefan asked. Amusement danced in his sky-blue eyes.

She met his gaze with a forth-right look. "No, not at all. The grimoire I have says you need an altar, and the four elements. . ." Thoughts rattled through her head. Perhaps the wood plank flooring could represent earth, and surely the open window with the gentle breezing wafting in would symbolize air. But fire? Water?

Stefan laughed. "Don't believe everything you read, Ellie. True magic comes from within, and real power comes when you know who you are. That's the foundation of all magic, and wise men have taught that truth throughout the ages. Know thyself." The warmth of his smile soothed her. "It's only when people doubt themselves that they need rules to follow." He gestured toward the chairs, and for the next hour, he sat beside Ellie and talked to her of wondrous possibilities.

She could learn much from this man – how to cast horoscopes, how to read cards, how to contact other planes of existence – but he could not teach her the one thing she most needed to know.

"Who are you, Ellie Crawford?" he asked.

She would have to learn that on her own, Ellie knew. The question, along with the memory of Stefan’s deep voice, haunted her as she sat before her altar that night. She had opened the windows to let in the sweet, lilac-scented breeze. She drew in a long, deep breath, but nothing could soothe her restless spirit.

All she had done that day, all the changes she had made, all she had learned...none of it meant anything, really. She knew what she wanted, and she knew who she wanted to be, but she couldn't say with certainty who she was at that precise moment.

A lonely young woman pining for lost love?

True, yes, but there must be more to her that this. She could not – would not – define herself through David and all she had lost.

But if she stripped away that love, cast off all the memories of David, what would be left of her? She feared she might find nothing at all.

Ellie sighed and took her place before her altar. The candle's flame glowed in the darkness, casting a circle of light around her. Earlier she'd plucked a bouquet of fresh lilacs, and all was in readiness for the ritual.

As she had done the night before, she wrote David's name upon a fresh sheet of paper. Beneath it, with trembling hand, she wrote her name. Once again, she joined the names with a heart and recited the magical words:

"Our fate is sealed and we are one. My heart has power. It is now done."

As she stared into the burning flame and thought again of David and their love, Ellie’s pulse raced. Her temples throbbed and a heaviness settled upon her chest. She could scarcely draw a breath.

Pain shot through her head when she jumped to her feet and rushed to the balcony. Throwing open the door, she drank in great gulps of air.

The perfect spring night quickly calmed her anxiety, and Ellie stood outside looking up into the dark night skies.

Stars, planets, suns and moons. Other worlds, perhaps. All spinning silently in the heavens, held in place by unseen forces, their movements guided by something indefinable and divine.

For a moment, she felt small and insignificant, one tiny speck of being lost among the vastness of the universe. In the next moment, she felt grand and important as realization came.

I am a part of this. The same invisible forces that hold the heavens in order are coursing through my body and blood.

Stefan had spoken of such power; now, for the first time, Ellie felt it for herself.

She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the night, feeling the wind as it swirled around her.

A sudden burst of light flashed through her consciousness.

Fire!

Ellie turned.

Tongues of flame danced across the curtains, leaping from one edge of fabric to another. She’d placed her altar too close to the window. Inviting the night breeze inside had brought disaster.

Panic rose in her throat, shutting off her voice. Her desperate cry for help came out as no more than a feeble whisper.

Flames engulfed the doorway, hissing and crackling like fiery serpents about to strike.

Ellie looked up to the night sky again. Where was that divine connection now?

Her knees buckled. She collapsed in a heap as the fire edged ever closer.

Love Spells - Chapter 3

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Click on the links below to read previous chapters of "Love Spells"

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

OR

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Chapter 3

"You look incredible."

"I do, don't I?" Ellie laughed and burst into a bright smile. She and Miranda had just left the salon. They stood together outside the little shop as a pleasant spring breeze wafted through the air. "Thanks, Miranda. This is just what I needed."

The two women had spent Saturday morning at Ellie's apartment, sorting though her drawers and closets. Throughout the afternoon, they'd shopped at boutiques and visited the salon. Now, with new clothes, a new haircut, and a fresh new face, Ellie looked...well, incredible. No other word for it.

A new look, a new life.

Startled by the voice, she turned and looked about. Miranda had not spoken. The words came from inside Ellie's head, or maybe from somewhere deep inside her heart.

But she didn't want a new life. She wanted the old life she'd had before – only better. Instead of a lying, cheating fiance, she wanted a man who would love only her, a man who could be trusted.

"I'm glad you've finally given up those ridiculous thoughts about getting David back. Honestly, Ellie, you should be glad he's gone. I never did like him much, you know."

"Really?" Ellie hadn't known. She'd always supposed Miranda and her other friends had approved of the relationship. It surprised her to know how wrong she'd been.

"You were always so wrapped up in him, always trying so hard to please him. You lost yourself, Ellie. You forgot who you were."

"I'm not sure I ever really knew who I was in the first place." As they walked along Carlysle Street, Ellie caught sight of herself in the plate-glass window of a shopfront.

"And now?" asked Miranda, stopping beside her.

"Now, I'm seeing possibilities." She didn't want to say anything about magic, about the powerful forces that had begun to stir inside of her. Miranda would never understand. "I can't explain it, really, but I feel as if I'm standing at a doorway, ready to step through to something new and exciting. I feel as though I can actually make something of myself. I can make my life all I want it to be."

"Yeah, well, remember what they say." Miranda grinned and linked arms with Ellie. They began to walk again.

Ellie puzzled over the remark for a moment. Once again, she stopped. "What are you talking about? What do they say?"

"Be careful what you wish for. You might get it."

Ellie laughed. "I'll keep that in mind." Indeed. She would be very careful when she practiced her magic. She would keep her thoughts centered on the highest and best. With her love spells, she could not only win back David's heart, she could ensure his fidelity and devotion. With magic, she could do anything...couldn't she?

"How about we stop by Clancy's, have a few drinks, maybe throw a few darts?" Miranda asked. They'd come to the corner of Carlysle and 35^th Street. The popular club was one of Miranda's favorites. She glanced at her wrist. "Four o'clock. Happy hour. Who knows, you might meet the man of your dreams."

Ellie shook her head. "Not now."

"Why not? You don't have anything better to do."

"Actually, I do have something planned." Ellie would be performing her ritual for the second night. She would not tell Miranda about that, of course. "You go on. Have fun at Clancy's. I can catch the bus from here." She gestured toward a nearby bus-stop.

A look of confusion swept across Miranda's face. Obviously she wanted to stop in at Clancy's but felt obligated to stay with Ellie and to see her safely home. "We don't have to stay long. We could just drop in for a minute or two."

Ellie placed a hand on her friend's arm. "Really, it's all right. Go ahead. Have a good time." She smiled. "It's been a long day. I'd like to go home, spend a little time...getting to know myself," she finished.

"Maybe that would be good. I mean it. You're changing, you know, right before my eyes." Her gaze swept over Ellie's small form. "I'm not talking about the new haircut, the new clothes, or the new shade of blush. I'm talking about you, about who you are. You've got a new attitude. I like it."

"So do I."

"It comes from throwing out the garbage." Miranda winked. "Seriously, girl, getting David out of your life was the best thing that could have happened. Your life is your own now. Make the most of it."

Ellie nodded. Let Miranda think whatever she wished. Let her go on believing David Cameron was part of the past. In time – once the magic happened – all would be right and there would be no need for explanations. Ellie's happiness would speak for itself.

But what if the magic doesn't happen? What if I get David back but he breaks my heart again? What if...?

Questions haunted her as she bid farewell to her friend and hurried away, headed not for the bus stop, but for a quaint little magic shop a few blocks away.

****

The bell above the door jangled. Ellie stepped inside, closed her eyes, and let herself be carried away with the gentle music and sweet, pungent aromas. She stood in the center of the store...waiting.

A woman's voice floated through the air. "May I help you?"

Ellie blinked and opened her eyes; a profound disappointment coursed through her from top to toe. She stared down at her shiny new shoes with their narrow heels, wondering why she'd chosen something so unlike her usual style. Suddenly she felt awkward and unsure. Maybe it wasn't good to make too many changes all at once.

"I -- , that is, I was –, I mean, where –"

The petite blonde standing before her smiled and nodded. "You're looking for Stefan, I suppose." She nodded toward a door at the back of the shop. "He's doing a life reading. Do you want to wait? It shouldn't be much longer."

"A life reading?" Ellie's heart raced. "What's that?"

The blonde picked up a brochure. "Stefan does a lot of readings. Tarot, life readings, numerology, past-life regression..." Her voice droned on, but Ellie was no longer listening. She'd grabbed the brochure and was eagerly reading.

She looked up when she heard footsteps. The door at the back of the shop stood open now, and the craggy-faced man she’d met before came out followed by an older woman. He spoke a few words to the woman as she left the shop. He then turned toward Ellie. A smile lit up his face.

“Hello, again. I remember you. You were here earlier in the week. How is everything going?”

At once, his voice soothed Ellie’s doubts and uncertainties. She nodded. “I started the ritual last night. I’ve already had surprising results. That’s why I came by. I wanted to tell you the magic was working.” She glanced at the brochure she held. “And I think I’d like to learn a little more...about the readings you do.”

He walked behind the counter and placed a hand on the petite blonde’s shoulder. Leaning down, he brushed a kiss at the top of her head. “Thanks, sis, for filling in. Would you mind watching the shop for a few minutes more?” He looked again toward Ellie. “Why don’t you come in back with me? It’s quiet, and I can tell you about the different readings. I offer a few classes, too.”

Ellie sucked in a deep breath. A strange excitement surged through her body. Her knees felt weak; her skin itself seemed to tingle.

“Classes?” she croaked. “I don’t know. Do you think I --“

“When the student is ready, the teacher appears,” he told her, extending a hand. “Stefan Blackwell at your service.”

He had read her mind, had answered her question before she’d even asked it. She marveled at the power the man possessed. Someday such power would be hers, as well.

"Ellie Crawford", she whispered.

He smiled, took hold of her hand, and led her through the open doorway.

- TO BE CONTINUED -

BACK TO TUESDAY'S TALES!

Love Spells - Chapter 2

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Barefoot and dressed in a simple cotton gown, Ellie stood at the window on Friday evening, watching as the sun slowly slipped below the horizon. She had no idea, actually, what she should wear for spell-casting, so she’d chosen something simple, something natural, something comfortable. It felt right.

The time had come to begin. Earlier, she’d prepared a small altar, her own magical place where she would perform the ritual each night. She’d used a brilliantly-colored green and gold silk scarf for an altar cloth and had placed a small vase of fresh flowers at the edge.

According to the grimoire, spell-casting required careful thought and keen attention to detail. Each of the four natural elements -- earth, air, fire, and water -- must be represented.

The scarf, Ellie figured, could symbolize the earth and its beauty. The flowers drew life from water and released their sweet fragrance into the air. Fire, of course, would come from the candle she would light.

As she turned from the window, she caught sight of herself in a small mirror. A pair of dull brown eyes stared back at her. Ellie frowned. She felt different, but she still looked the same. It would never do. An ordinary woman like Ellie Crawford could never work magic. If she meant to change her life, she must first transform herself.

She grabbed the phone. “Miranda, I need your help,” she said as soon as her friend answered.

“Is this about David?”

“No, it’s about me.”

“What’s wrong?” The concern in Miranda’s voice was genuine. “What can I do?”

“I’m tired of being plain and ordinary, always fading into the background. I want to be the sort of woman who commands attention. I want to be more like you. Will you help me?”

“What brought this on?”

Ellie suspected the truth would not help her cause. She hedged. “I was just looking at myself in the mirror. I don’t like what I see.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning,” Miranda said. “We’ll go through your closets, get rid of all those dowdy dresses and those awful shoes you’ve got. Then we’ll go on a little shopping spree. We’ll schedule an appointment for you at the salon, and then we’ll...”

Fifteen minutes later, Ellie hung up the phone with a smile. Already she felt better, more powerful, more in control of her own destiny. She liked the feeling.

Night had settled in now and darkness shrouded Ellie’s tiny apartment. She moved slowly through the shadows toward her make-shift altar, ready to perform her first ritual. It might have little power behind it now, but with each passing day -- and with each change she made within herself -- the power behind her magic would grow.

Seated cross-legged before her altar, Ellie struck a match. The first tiny spark burst into brilliant flame, and a sudden warmth filled her heart.

Your life is about to change. You’re lighting a candle within yourself, illuminating the shadows and revealing truth. Are you prepared?

The voice came from within and from without, from above and below.

The match had nearly burned down to her fingers. She shook it out and dropped the charred matchstick. Her hand trembled as she struck a second match and held it to the candle’s wick. It caught and began to burn. The thin, pink taper glowed brightly, steadily.

Following the instructions she’d been given -- to the letter -- Ellie wrote David’s name upon a sheet of white paper. She wrote her name beneath it, then drew a heart around both, joining them together in a sign of love.

“Our fate is sealed and we are one. My heart has power. It is now done.”

As she watched the flame, she thought about David, about the love they’d shared in the past...and the love they would soon share again.

Finally, when the candle had burned down, and the flame had flickered and died, Ellie closed her eyes. A profound stillness surrounded her. She could not recall ever feeling so much at peace.

Moments later, the noisy jangling of the phone shattered the silence. Startled, Ellie jumped, knocking the vase of flowers from her magical altar. With one hand, she grabbed the vase; with the other she reached for the phone.

“Ellie?”

David’s voice crackled through the night.

Her pulse raced. “Yes, David.” Giddiness swept over her, and for a moment she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

But she felt something stirring deep inside.

Magic.

For a moment, David remained silent. Ellie could hear his breath, could close her eyes and picture him holding the phone close. She exulted in this strange, new-found power she possessed.

“Was there something you wanted?” she asked. “Something you needed?”

“ No, not at all. I’m sorry about this. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s no bother.” The words came out as a raspy whisper. “I was hoping to hear from you.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t calling you, Ellie. I don’t know what happened. Guess I hit the wrong button on this damned phone. You know how that goes.”

“Right.” The vase of flowers slipped from her grasp. Cool water spilled over the hardwood floor and trickled across her bare toes. Ellie hung up the phone, hugged her knees, and let the tears come.

Hearing David’s voice had opened all the wounds again, had brought back all the bittersweet memories of their love. His betrayal cut her to the quick. It hurt as much now as on the day when he’d broken off their engagement.

But now, she had a glimmer of hope. She brushed away the tears and turned to gaze upon her altar. Already her feeble spell had begun to work.

David had called her. He had spoken to her.

Had it merely been a mistake?

Or had it been magic?

- To Be Continued -

Love Spells - Chapter 1

Thanks for visiting!

For this week's "Tuesday's Tales", I'm doing something a little different. Instead of a short-story based on the week's word prompt, I'm posting the first part of a novella, Love Spells. I hope it catches your attention and that you'll be back next week to read more of the story.

And...don't forget to read what others have written for this week's prompt.

Click here to return to Tuesday's Tales

Love Spells - Part 1

“You’ve got to be out of your mind. The man lied to you, cheated on you, dumped you, and ran off with another woman.” Miranda’s scowl deepened. “Why would you want him back?”

Ellie sighed. “When you put it that way, I know it sounds crazy, but there are two sides to every story.”

“Not this one.” Miranda got up, grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. “David Cameron is bad news. You want him back? You’re on your own. I want nothing to do with this.”

***

Miranda didn’t understand, of course. That was the problem. Yes, David was guilty as charged...except that it wasn’t really his fault. Not completely. He’d been bewitched, lured away by a potent spell cast by a beguiling sorceress.

But things were about to change.

With a knowing smile, Ellie opened the dusty old book she held in her hands. She now had a few spells of her own.

She’d found the weighty tome two afternoons before while browsing around at a neighborhood estate sale. A grimoire. Even the word sounded mystical and powerful. A tiny laugh slipped out. Never would she have guessed old Mrs. Parsons to be a witch.

Funny how little we know about people.

Just like David. When she’d first met him, she would never have thought him capable of lies and deceit, would never have believed he would willingly inflict emotional pain upon another’s heart.

It wasn’t his fault. It was witchcraft.

She knew that now. From the moment she’d first touched the old grimoire, an odd power had surged forth within her. At once, the truth had become clear. Sadly, that knowledge alone wasn’t enough to ease the pain he’d put her through, and if she had good sense, she’d find some terrible spell and cast it upon both of them -- David and Julianne, his new love.

Quickly she thumbed through the book. Something to cause boils, or a wart on one’s nose. Or maybe something to shrivel certain body parts...

Ellie sucked in a deep breath and shook the thoughts away. No, she would not become vindictive, would not stoop to cruel retaliation. Her spells would be rooted in love, not anger. Her magic would bring renewal, not revenge.

***

On Thursday, Ellie left work early. She strolled down 39th Street, enjoying the fresh spring air and the gentle warmth of the glorious, golden sunlight. Red bud trees were beginning to blossom, and all the world around her looked fresh, vibrant, and new.

A perfect time for magic, for new beginnings, for making dreams come true.

When she reached the little shop near Carlysle Street, she hesitated only a moment before climbing the old wooden steps. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. The smoky scents of frankincense and patchouli greeted her, luring her in to the dimly-lit store. Exotic, oriental-sounding music floated around her. She swayed to the haunting rhythms as she peered at the colorful displays of candles, crystals, cards, and stones.

The magic is strong here. I can feel it.

Ellie closed her eyes for a moment, letting the power flow through her. In the past, before she’d discovered that old grimoire, she had never believed in magic. Now, she had no doubts.

It was real. It was here. It was now.

With every breath she took, the feeling grew stronger.

Something magic was about to happen.

“Good afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?”

The deep, masculine voice seemed to come from someplace far away, almost as if it were part of a dream. Ellie smiled but kept her eyes closed. She liked the soothing sound of the man’s voice.

"Yes," she said. "I want to learn about magic...about love spells..." Her words drifted away in a sudden sea of embarrassment. Oh, dear, but she didn’t want to confess the awful truth to this kind man with the soft voice.

“There are a lot of different love spells. What did you have in mind?”

Ellie opened her eyes and stared down at the dark, plank flooring. No need to tell him the particulars. Like Miranda, he’d probably think her a fool if he knew the whole story. She shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Recently, I bought an old grimoire, and I’ve been reading different spells.” Aware of his keen gaze upon her, she shifted awkwardly. “But everything seems so complicated, and I’m not sure what I’m actually supposed to do to make them work.”

Finally, she lifted her chin and looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Clear and luminous, they reminded Ellie of the crystals atop the shop’s counters. They were eyes that seemed to see straight through to her heart and soul. Eyes that held magic.

She studied the man, taking in the rough, craggy face, and the close-cropped blond hair, the tall, broad forehead and tapering cheekbones. Careless stubble covered his chin like the evening shadows that had now begun to fall.

“Are you wanting to find new love? Rekindle an old flame?”

For a moment, Ellie couldn’t remember what she wanted. She blinked, shook herself, and took in a deep breath. She forced her thoughts back to David and her broken heart. It hurt to speak the awful truth.

“The man I love left me. I want him back.” Her voice quavered only slightly.

“There’s a simple love spell for that. “

“Simple would be good.”

The man laughed. Like his voice, the laughter had a gentle, reassuring quality about it.

“You’d be surprised at how many people come in here looking for love spells of one sort or another.”

“Love does make the world go around, or so I’ve heard.” Ellie smiled.

“Not really.” The man grinned. “It just makes the ride more enjoyable.” He went to a shelf and began counting out seven pink candles. “Here’s how the spell works.”

She listened closely as he explained the ritual. “Every night for one week,” she repeated when he’d finished. As he rang up the purchase, Ellie closed her eyes again, imagining the happiness that would soon be hers.

“Remember, love spells should always begin on Friday.” The blue-eyed man placed the candles in a bag. “Good luck,” he added as he handed the bag to her.

“Thank you. I’ll begin tomorrow.”

Seven nights.

A lifetime of happiness.

All within her reach.

She took the bag, hugged it close, and hurried out into the gathering darkness.

- TO BE CONTINUED -

Jared's Bouquet

The bell above the shop door jingled brightly. Putting a smile on her face, Angela Taylor set aside the bouquet she’d been working on and turned.

“May I help --"

She stopped short, blinked, and glanced at the bell.

No one stood before the tall, wooden counter.

Angela might have worried that she’d lost her mind if it hadn’t been for the chubby little hand reaching up. She smiled and leaned over the counter. A small boy with big blue eyes and a huge smile looked back at her.

“I want to buy some flowers.” He opened his hand to show her the gleaming copper pennies he held. “Lots of flowers.” His smile grew bigger and brighter. “For Valentine’s Day.” The boy turned his hand over and let the coins drop to the counter.

Angela’s heart ached. She recognized the child. Jared Manning. He lived with his father in the little house next door to the florist’s shop. A year before, on a cold January day, both Angela and the shop owner had stayed busy making floral arrangements for Suzanne Manning’s funeral. Only twenty-seven, Jared’s mother had lost control of her car on an icy hill.

Sadly missed by husband and son ...

Angela saw Jared almost every morning when she came to work. She made a point to smile and wave. He always returned her greeting with a smile of his own.

“Hi, sweetie. “ She peered down, barely able to see beyond the tears welling in her eyes. Maybe she could find a few less-than-perfect blooms -- ones destined for the trash bin -- and gather them up for the child. “Let’s see what we can do,” she suggested.

Jared nodded. “My mommy’s in heaven. Did you know that?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “My daddy says she’s still watching over us. He says she’s in our hearts.”

Angela cleared her throat, afraid her tears would spill down her cheeks. Touched by the thought of this brave little boy buying flowers for his mother in heaven, she silently vowed to create the perfect bouquet. No less-than-perfect blooms would do. No wilted stems or mis-shapen blossoms. Only the best for this cherubic little angel.

She stepped out from the behind the counter and held out her hand. “Let’s look around a bit. You can tell me which flowers you like best.”

He smiled and placed his hand in hers. “I think I like those.” He pointed toward the roses, then shook his head. “I don’t know. What do you like?” Big blue eyes looked up at her.

“Oh, I like roses,” Angela assured him. “I think every woman likes roses. What color?”

Jared shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s your favorite?”

She opened the display case and took out several yellow roses. “How about these?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I like those. And maybe some of those flowers over there?”

Angela winced when he pointed toward the orchids.

“Do I have enough money for them?” Jared asked.

“Yes, honey.” She would gladly cover the cost. Although she barely made enough money to pay her bills and put food on the table, her financial woes didn’t matter. She could pick up a few cans of tuna on sale next week. Live on ramen noodles and peanut butter sandwiches. Whatever it took, Jared would have the bouquet he wanted.

He scurried through the shop, pointing here, pointing there, and Angela followed along, plucking only the most perfect blooms for Jared's bouquet.

The bell above the door jangled again and a harried-looking older woman burst in.

“Jared Michael Manning! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She rushed across the shop and swept him into her arms.

“I told you I wanted to get some flowers, Granny. Didn’t you listen?”

She ignored Jared and turned toward Angela. “I’m sorry if he’s been bothering you."

“No, he hasn’t been a bother at all.”

“I look after him, you know, while his father is working.” the grandmother said. “Sometimes it’s a little hard for me to keep up with him.” She let out a long breath. “If he comes over here again, just send him back home, all right?”

Once again the bell jangled and through the door came Missy Cadwallader, the shop’s owner. She’d been out making deliveries all morning.

“Do you have the next round of orders finished?” she asked, glancing toward the unfinished bouquet on the worktable. “What are you doing with those flowers in your hands?”

Jared’s grandmother took that as her cue to leave. With Jared safely in her arms, she waved good-bye and hurried out.

Angela stared down at the roses, the orchid, and the crazy assortment of other colorful blossoms.

“Working on a special order,” she said, returning to her workstation.

Missy went to the receipt book. She frowned. “I don’t see any new order written up. And what about the arrangements you're supposed to have ready? You know this is going to be a busy day."

Angela nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get back to work right now.” She placed Jared’s special bouquet in a vase of water, then returned to her work table.

“Who’s the special order for?” Missy asked. She grabbed a pencil and jotted down a few notes. “It’s going to run $119.75. Did you get payment in advance?”

“It's mine." Angela lifted her chin. "I’m paying for it. Take it out of my check.”

Missy sighed. “What’s going on?”

While Angela worked, she told Missy about Jared’s visit. “He’s buying a bouquet for his mother. In heaven.” She brushed away a tear.

“No, he’s not. You’re buying a bouquet.”

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“You’re a real bleeding heart, I swear." Missy rolled her eyes. “It’s your money.” She began packing the boxes as Angela finished each Valentine arrangement. “Off for the next round of deliveries. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Throughout the day, Angela continued working. From time to time she glanced toward Jared’s unfinished bouquet. She was a real bleeding heart, all right. She couldn’t afford to pay such an exorbitant price. And the sweet little boy next door had probably forgotten all about it. Maybe it would be best to put the roses back in the display, the orchid, too and the other flowers, as well.

Angela reached for the roses, then drew back her hand. She couldn't do it. It didn’t matter how much it cost. A child’s love was priceless. Jared would get his bouquet.

For the rest of the day, Angela smiled as she worked. She could hardly wait for quitting time. Once the shop closed, she turned her attention back to Jared’s bouquet. She added in a bit of baby’s breath, a few sprigs of ferns. She carefully arranged the flowers, tied a yellow ribbon around the vase, and re-figured the cost to include all she’d added.

Don't worry about how much it costs. It will be worth it.

Wrapping the bouquet carefully, she bid Missy good-night and stepped outside. She turned toward the little house next door and hurried toward it, anticipating the happiness she would see on Jared’s face when she handed him his bouquet.

She knocked at the door, expecting the boy’s grandmother to answer. Instead, when the door opened, a handsome, blond-haired man stood in front of her. He looked very much like an older version of Jared. His blue eyes held a touch of sadness.

“You must have the wrong house,” he explained, nodding toward the bouquet in her hands. “I didn’t order --“

“Daddy! My flowers! They’re here!” Jared dashed past his father and ran to Angela. He jumped up and down, shouting for his father to look. “See, Daddy! I bought all these flowers!”

Angela bent down and carefully handed the bouquet to the boy. Her heart felt as though it might burst with joy. She turned and walked back toward the store. Her car was parked in the lot behind the red-brick building.

“Hey! Miss! Wait a minute.” Jared’s father called after her. "I don’t know what this is all about," he said when she turned around, "but --“ He stopped and looked down. Jared was pulling on his sleeve. “What is it, son?”

He handed the bouquet to his father. “You’re supposed to give the flowers to her.” He pointed in Angela’s direction.

“Well, yes, that’s what I’m trying to do.” He came to her. “I have no idea why you brought these flowers over --“ He stopped again. As before, Jared stood at his side, tugging at his sleeve.

“Now, you ask to her be your valentine.”

“Jared, what --“

“She picked out all her favorite flowers.” His chubby face glowed. “I made sure she got just what she wanted.”

Angela’s mouth fell open. She looked at Jared. “I thought you wanted the flowers for your mother.”

“She’s in heaven,” Jared said, pointing toward the evening sky. “And in our hearts, too,” he added. “But since she’s in heaven, I don’t have any way to give her flowers.” He looked at Angela and then at his father. He pointed at Angela again. “But, she’s here, Daddy, and I think you’d like her. She always smiles and waves to me. And don’t you think she’s pretty?”

A deep blush heated Angela’s cheeks. She didn’t know what to say.

“Yes, Jared, I think she’s very pretty.” Jared’s father looked into her eyes.

“Give her the flowers, Daddy.”

“I don’t even know your name,” the man said, his voice soft and gentle. “But maybe we could get to know each other. I think I'd like that. I’m Robert, by the way. Robert Manning.”

Jared tugged again at his father’s sleeve. “The flowers.” He reached up, took the bouquet from his father’s hands and let out a very long, important-sounding breath. “Here’s how you do it, Daddy.” He held the flowers out toward Angela. “Will you be his valentine? Please? Ever since Mommy went to heaven, he’s been all alone. Well, except for me. But we’re both alone. So I just thought maybe --“

Robert stepped forward. “Jared, I think I can handle it from here.” He grinned at his son, then smiled at Angela. “This is a little awkward, but will you be my valentine, Miss --“

“Miss Taylor. Angela Taylor.” She lifted the bouquet and inhaled the sweet fragrances.

“I will pay for the flowers, Angela.”

“No need to do that.”

“I insist.”

“We can talk about it, I suppose.”

“Over dinner?”

She smiled. “I think I’d like that.”

“So, will you be my valentine, Miss Angela Taylor?"

She smiled again. “I think I’d like that, too.”

Angela and Robert exchanged glances. No one could know what the future might hold or where this impromptu meeting might lead. But it didn’t matter, did it? Life was short, and every moment deserved to be lived and enjoyed to the fullest.

That’s what really counted in life. Making the most of whatever life handed you.

Angela looked at Jared's bouquet and smiled once more.

~~~The End~~~

You can read MORE of "Tuesday's Tales" HERE.

Lover Boy

Never again.

Mariah swore under her breath as she traipsed through the gloomy winter’s night, her footsteps crunching over the snow-covered earth. She bent low, ruffled the icy branches of a juniper bush and muttered once more.

No, never again would she let her sister -- or anyone, for that matter -- take advantage of her good nature. No more favors. No more “Oh, please, Mariah!” No more going out of her way to help other people and getting nothing in return. She had a problem, all right, just as Phil had told her.

Most of all, no more taking care of Lover Boy.

No matter how busy her sister was, no matter what the circumstances behind it, Mariah was making one hard and fast rule here and now: Never again would she let that huge old tomcat into her home. Not even for a minute.

Not that he ever stayed there. That was the problem. Lover Boy had been aptly named, and the minute Mariah’s back was turned, the big striped tabby always managed to find a way out to prowl around, looking for love.

She poked her head over the hedge that lined the walkway from one apartment building to the next. That cat had to be somewhere in the complex. But where?

“When I find you --“ she warned, then stopped short when she heard Phil’s heavy steps coming up behind her. She glanced back at him. “Did you see him anywhere?”

“Forget that stupid cat, will you!” He blew out a frosty breath and stamped his feet. “It’s freezing out here. I don’t know why you let Jessica bring that mangy critter over here.”

“He’s not mangy.” Mariah shook her head and clapped her gloved hands over her ears. She didn’t want to hear any more of Phil’s arguments. “And yes, it’s freezing out here, so that’s all the more reason why I have to find him. If anything happens to Lover Boy, my sister will never get over it. You know how attached she is to that cat.”

“So why isn’t she taking care of him? Why did she dump him off with you again?” Phil muttered a few unintelligible words and turned away. He headed straight for the entrance to Mariah’s building.

“You’re not going to help?”

“You want that cat, you find it.” He reached the doorway, stopped, and looked back over his shoulder. “I’m not waiting all night, Mariah. If you’re not back upstairs in ten minutes, I’m leaving.”

“Phil, don’t be so childish.” Mariah’s heart thumped against her chest. How many times must they repeat the same tiresome argument? She braced herself, knowing his next words before he even spoke them.

“I’m damned tired of this. If it’s not your sister and her cat, it’s Mrs. Wormsley and her plants. Or you’re looking after somebody’s kids because the babysitter didn’t show, or you’ve got to go in and work a few extra hours because somebody’s sick. What about me?” He jabbed his thick thumb toward himself. “Did it ever occur to you that I’d like a little of your time? No,” he rushed on, giving his head a shake. “You’re too busy helping everybody else out.” Phil finally sucked in a breath. “Damn it, Mariah. You’ve got to stop being so nice to people. You’ve got to learn how to say ‘no’ once in a while.” He jerked the entry door open and darted inside.

Mariah stared at the door for a moment, then resumed her frantic search. Phil was serious this time. She had to find Lover Boy -- fast. Otherwise Phil Stewart would be walking out of her life, and most likely he wouldn’t return.

“I’m only trying to help,” she said aloud.

Of course, Phil had a point. People did take advantage of her. She really should learn to be more assertive; she needed to stand up for herself more often.

But was it really wrong when she truly enjoyed helping others? Funny, but it never seemed to be a problem...before.

Before Phil came waltzing into her life and began demanding more and more of her time. Before Phil began counting how many favors she did for her friends and family. Before Phil started pointing out how little she received from others.

She didn’t ask anything in return. She didn’t expect people to pay her when she volunteered to help. Happiness wasn’t measured in dollars and cents, and life wasn’t a ledger where every hour had to be balanced by tangible gain.

In the long run, things did balance out. Kindness brought kindness in return. A helping hand brought smiles, friendships, and gratitude. Caring about others always brought happiness.

Mariah heard a shuffling noise and whirled around. “Oh, Mrs. Wormsley, good evening.” She smiled at the spindly, blue-haired older lady. “I didn’t hear you come out.”

“No, I don’t suppose you did. You were engaged in a rather lively discussion with that gentleman friend of yours.” She sighed. “So, Lover Boy on the loose again?” Without waiting for an answer, she began peeking through the hedges, too. “Here, Love! Come on, kitty.”

“I’m sorry if Phil disturbed you. He’s a little unhappy with me.”

Mrs. Wormsley drew herself up -- which wasn’t saying much. The top of her head barely reached Mariah’s chin. She tilted her head back. “Well, if he’s going to make such a fuss, maybe you should go inside.”

“But... Lover Boy! I have to find him.”

The woman shook her head. “Don’t worry about Lover Boy. Cats are clever creatures, my dear. They can look after themselves quite well, even in the snow and cold. I don’t doubt that he’s found himself a warm and cozy spot, and he’s probably curled up, having a lovely little cat-nap. Trust me, he’ll come home on his own. Now, you run along. Go spend a little time with your friend.” She smiled. Or maybe it was more of a grimace.

“Yes.” Mariah nodded. “I do need to spend a little time with Phil.”

She slipped inside and climbed slowly up the stairs to the second floor. With each step, her determination grew stronger. Phil was right: she needed to take charge. She needed to speak up when someone took advantage of her.

And right now, that someone was Phil Stewart.

“It’s over,” she told him as soon as she’d stepped inside. She didn’t even bother to close the door behind her. She gestured toward it. “You’re a selfish man, Phil. You never think of anyone but yourself. I don’t want to become like you.”

He opened his mouth, but Mariah shook her head. She pointed toward the door again.

“All right, fine. If that’s what you want. But you’ll regret it,” he told her, wagging a finger toward her. “You’ll be calling me and begging me to come back, mark my words.”

She slammed the door behind him. It felt good. Very good.

Letting out a long, satisfied breath, Mariah strolled to the window. She peered out into the night, watched the glittering snowflakes swirling through the air, and wondered again where Lover Boy might be. She hoped he had, indeed, found a warm and cozy spot.

A loud knock sounded, startling Mariah from her thoughts.

Damn you, Phil! Just go away!

If she hadn’t been so angry, she would have ignored him, but obviously he hadn’t taken her seriously. The self-centered, obnoxious man truly believed all he had to do was knock and she’d fall right into his arms again.

Mariah stomped across her living room and flung the door open.

She blinked in surprise. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Lover Boy!” She squealed with delight to see the old tomcat, snug and safe -- in the arms of a tall, handsome dark-haired young man.

The man laughed. “Well, thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever had a welcome quite like that before.” His broad grin revealed neat, even white teeth. He held the cat out toward her. “I think you've been looking for this fellow."

With her cheeks flaming, Mariah nodded. “Lover Boy,” she repeated, her voice low. “That’s him. The cat.”

“Oh, I see.” The tall young man grinned again as she took the tom into her arms. “I’m Matt Coughlin, by the way. I just moved in last week.” He pointed across the hall. “Haven’t had a chance yet to meet too many people. But I did make Lover Boy’s acquaintance earlier.” He reached out and scratched the cat’s furry head. Lover Boy purred. “Somehow, he got up on my balcony. I didn’t know where he came from, but, well, I’m a sucker for cats. I hated to think of him being out in the cold, so I let him come in." His dark brown eyes reminded Mariah of lumps of melting chocolate. "Earlier, I saw Mrs. Wormsley when I went out to the mailbox. She said you were looking for a cat, asked if I'd seen one prowling around. I hope I didn't cause you to worry too much. If I'd known where he belonged, I would have brought him back sooner."

“He’s been at your apartment?” Mariah stroked the cat’s fur, too. When her fingers brushed against Matt’s, a tingle shot through her.

“Yeah, curled up by the fireplace."

“Cat-napping.”

“Warm and cozy,” said Matt.

Mariah’s apartment suddenly felt warm and cozy, too.

“Would you care for a cup of cocoa,” she asked.

“I think I’d like that.”

She bent down and put Lover Boy on the floor. “Now, stay here, will you? It’s cold outside. This isn’t a night to be out prowling around, looking for love.”

No, indeed. It was a perfect night for staying inside and curling up in front of the fireplace. Mariah and Matt exchanged glances. They both smiled.

It might even turn out to be a perfect night for finding love.

“I’ll get that cocoa,” Mariah said.

"Can I help?" asked Matt.

Lover Boy rubbed against her legs, looked up at her, looked at Matt, then trotted across the room and jumped upon the hearth. He closed his eyes, and a soft purr filled the air.

~~~The End~~~

I hope you've enjoyed this "Tuesday Tale". To read more works from the Tuesday's Tales authors, please CLICK HERE.

Wishing on a Star

Tonya shivered and pulled her jacket close around her. She must be out of her mind to be at the park on a cold, January night, bundled up against the frigid air. She rubbed her hands together, thankful for her thick, red mittens. At least, she wasn’t alone like she usually was on Friday night.

Sometimes she almost wished she were one of the popular girls at school, the girls who had dates every weekend, who went to all the school dances, the ones who were always chosen for the pep squad and cheerleading teams. But being popular really didn’t matter. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“Be proud of who you are, Tonya. Think of all you’ve accomplished.” That’s what her mother always said. True enough, what she lacked in beauty, she made up for with brains. Straight A’s in all her classes. The Honor Roll every semester. Unless something drastic happened before graduation that spring, she’d be standing at the podium, accepting the title of Valedictorian.

She didn’t belong at the football games and basketball games. She wasn’t meant to be sauntering around in a cheerleading skirt, swishing pom-poms in the air. Tonya knew her place. She belonged with the geeks and nerds.

Science Club. The Astronomy Club. Mathematics Club.

Now she sat before a long table with dozens of stars cut from white posterboard scattered across the top. A large sign proclaimed "Westbrook High Astronomy Club - Come Wish Upon a Star". The club had been saving up for a new telescope but were still far short of their goal, and Tonya had suggested an idea for a New Year’s fund-rasier. Anyone who wanted to donate a dollar to the club could take one of the cardboard stars, write a wish upon it, decorate it with glitter and stickers, and hang their special wish on a nearby tree.

If only our wishes would come true, Tonya thought as she peered through the dark night toward the tall tree. Hundreds of glittering stars hung from the bare limbs, shimmering in the moonlight as they danced and swayed in the frosty night.

“About ready to wrap it up?” Mr. Lansford, the science teacher stood at the table with his wife beside him. He smiled, picked up a star, and dangled it playfully from its string. “Looks like the club did all right tonight. You did a great job in organizing this, Tonya.”

"Thanks, and yeah, I guess I should start packing things away. We probably won’t have too many more people coming by.” She got up and slowly began gathering the stars from the table. The other club members who’d helped out had left a short time before, but Tonya had stayed late, reluctant for the night to end. She had nowhere to go but home and nothing to do once she got there other than feed the cats, curl up on the couch and read a good book -- and ignore her annoying little brother. Her parents would be in the den watching television. They'd exchange a few words and a few smiles, and she’d be on her own again. Alone, again.

I wish I could go somewhere, maybe do something exciting ...

She stopped and stared down at the star she held in her hand. Maybe she should make a wish.

Glancing around, she saw Mr. and Mrs. Lansford busy putting things away. Good. She still had a little time.

Tonya reached for her purse, fumbled around searching for coins, then sighed. She didn't even have a dollar to donate to the club! But she had given of her time, hadn't she? Spending the last several hours of her life sitting on that cold, metal folding chair should be worth at least a dollar. Besides, she could bring a dollar to school on Monday to add to the club treasury.

Determined now to make a wish, she grabbed a pen, then huffed out a breath. She couldn’t write a word with her hands encased in those thick mittens. She tugged the mittens off, then tried again. The pen refused to work.

Oh, this is just great. Maybe I'm not meant to ever have a wish come true.

She tried another pen, then another. Finally she found one that worked. Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she scribbled down the words.

I wish someone cared about me.

Her parents cared, of course. Even Arnie, her little brother, actually liked her, but being ten years old, he had to pretend otherwise. Family didn’t really count toward her wish, though. They were obligated to care about one another.

What Tonya really wanted was someone special who would care.

She closed her eyes, and for a moment, she dared to dream.

I wish there were a special guy who would care about me. Somebody cute and funny who could make me laugh, somebody who wouldn't think I'm weird because I like algebra and biology. And I wish he'd like to take long walks along the riverbank, and --

Hearing laughter, Tonya opened her eyes. Standing hand-in-hand beneath the tree were Megan and Brandon. They'd been steady dating for weeks. Tonya was happy for both of them. Several other couples from school had come by throughout the evening. Ashley and Luke. Liz and Tommy. Cherise and Jeff. Everybody had somebody special who cared.

Everybody except her.

This year it's going to be different. I'm going to find someone special.

Tonya didn't have time to decorate her star. Would the fates deny her wish because it wasn't covered in gold and silver glitter? She hoped not.

With a sigh, she hurried toward the tree.

"Hey, Megan. Hi, Brandon.” She forced a cheery smile to her lips.

“This was such a great idea,” Brandon said. “Megan and I are wishing for world peace.” He pointed toward one of the stars.

“And an end to hunger and homelessness,” added Megan. The happy young couple waved, then strolled off, hand in hand.

The smile faded from Tonya’s face. She felt a little selfish about her wish, but it was too late to make another. Lifting up on tiptoes, she reached toward a low-hanging branch of the tree. She caught hold of it, then lost her grip as a cold wind rose up around her. She dropped the star, and it went floating off through the night.

"Hey, wait!" she cried out, running after it. The star sailed onward. Tonya continued her frantic chase. "Oh, dear!"

She watched as the cardboard star soared on -- directly toward a tall young man coming down the hill. At first she couldn't tell who it was, but as he drew closer, she recognized Amos Owens. Tonya cringed when the star blew right into his hands.

"That's my star," she called out, rushing to claim it. Her cheeks heated. If Amos read her wish, she'd absolutely die of embarrassment right then and there. "I need to hang it on the tree." She snatched it from his hands as quickly as she could.

"Yeah, I was thinking about making a wish, too." Amos smiled at her. "Looks like I got here a little too late, though. I didn't get off work until nine," he explained. Amos worked part-time at the bookstore in town.

"There's still a few minutes," Tonya told him. "We haven't finished packing everything up." She looked back to the table, saw the Lansfords walking toward it, then impulsively grabbed Amos by the hand. "Come on. You’ll have to hurry."

Moments later, Amos stood at the table, hastily scribbing down a wish while Tonya put things away. No sooner had he finished than Mr. Lansford folded up the table. He and his wife loaded everything into the back of their van.

"It was a great fund-raiser," Mrs. Lansford assured Tonya. "We might have to make this an annual tradition." She held up the cashbox. "The club made a lot of money."

Tonya nodded. "Yeah. I hope at least a few of those wishes come true.” She gestured toward the tree. "We'd be in sad shape if we had to offer money-back guarantees."

Mrs. Lansford gave her a quizzical look. "Why so pessimistic, Tonya? Wishes do come true. You just have to believe, you know."

"Yeah, right." Tonya smiled. She wished it were true.

"Do you need a ride, Tonya?" Mr. Lansford asked. "We'll be glad to take you home."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine," Tonya replied. "I don't live far from here."

"All right. See you on Monday." Mr. Lansford waved, helped his wife into the car, and they drove off.

Tonya picked up her purse, then realized Amos was still standing beside her.

"Did you need something else?" she asked.

"Well, I was going to hang my wish. What about you? Your wish?"

She stared down at the ragged star she still clutched in her hand. "It's a little worse for wear, but I suppose --" Tonya shrugged.

Together they walked to the tree. Amos grabbed hold of the branch and held it while Tonya hung her wish.

"World peace," she whispered. "That's what I'm wishing for." She hoped and prayed Amos couldn't read what was actually written upon her star. "What about you?"

"World peace." Amos tied his star beside Tonya's. "And a passing grade in American History."

"Mrs. Townsend's class? That's a tough one," she added when Amos nodded. "Would you want me to help you study for the exam?" She blushed. "I mean, well, I just thought --"

"I'd like that." Amos smiled at her. "Hey, do you have to get home right away? Maybe we could head over to the diner and grab a bite to eat. I'd enjoy the company." His face reddened. "I mean, well, I just thought maybe --"

"I'd love to." Tonya beamed with excitement, then her hopes fell. "I'm sorry, Amos. I can't. I just remembered I don't have any money with me."

"That's fine. This is my treat." He stared down at the ground and shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "You know, I've always liked you, Tonya. You're so smart, and you're always so good at organizing things, like this event tonight. But you're always so busy, and I'm busy a lot, too." He actually began to stammer. "I- I've wanted to get to know you better, but -- but, I didn't know how to make you notice me."

Tonya blinked in surprise. How could any girl not notice Amos Owens? He was tall, cute, and always doing something off-the-wall. Like the time he painted his old car with polka dots, or the time he tried to build a home-made rocket. It fizzled.

"Well, how about it, Tonya?"

His voice drew her from her thoughts. "Sure, Amos! I'd really enjoy having a bite to eat with you. And getting to know you better." She smiled, and when he reached for her arm, she smiled even more.

They strolled along the riverbank on the way to the diner. The stars above reflected across the icy surface of the frozen water.

"Just look at all those stars," Amos said, stopping and pointing heavenward. "Maybe each one is somebody's wish."

"Maybe wishes can come true." Tonya held her breath. "Maybe we just have to believe." She took another step, but Amos held her back.

"I know wishes come true." He gazed at her with gentle blue eyes. "I have a confession to make. I didn't really wish for world peace. I wished I'd find someone who understood me, or at least, somebody willing to try." He shrugged. "People think I'm different, and I guess I am."

"You march to your own drummer," Tonya told him. "That's what people say about you."

"It gets lonely."

"I feel lonely sometimes, too," she admitted. "I guess people don't really understand me, either."

"Maybe we can learn to understand each other," Amos suggested, pulling her close. He bent his head close to hers and lightly kissed her lips. "Maybe we can make all our wishes come true."

"Maybe so." Tonya smiled, her lips still tingling from his sweet kiss. "Right now, I'm wishing for a cheeseburger and fries. Think we can make that happen?"

"With a chocolate malted to go along with it?" Amos grinned. "Sure thing." Holding hands, he and Tonya strolled on through the night.

~~~ The End ~~~

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