Magic by Tami Hoag Page B

obviously a lot more to the story than an “ungrateful” daughter taking up with a “cheap folk singer.” Bryan was a little disappointed in himself for so readily believing the worst. Especially since it had come from Addie, who was disoriented much of the time. Maybe Rachel Lindquist was rotten to the core, but it wasn’t his place to make that judgment without having all the facts. On the other hand, his life would be a whole lot simpler if he believed the worst and stayed away from her.
    Even as he thought it, he had the sinking realization that it wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t in him to judge people harshly. It wasn’t in him to stand by and watch a lady struggle with a load that was too heavy for her to carry, either.
    He had always taken care of the women in his life. His sisters first, and then Faith and Alaina and Jayne. Then Serena. Now Serena was gone, and the three lovelier members of the Fearsome Foursome were being taken care of by their mates. Enter Rachel Lindquist with her big violet eyes and incredible pink mouth and stubborn pride tilting her little chin up.
    Fighting an inner battle, Bryan flung himself out of the chair and paced the width of the room, head down, his hands combing back through his tawny hair again and again.
    You have to help her. She needs help .
    “No, not me. I can’t help anybody. I can’t even help myself. She can get help from the doctor. She can join a support group. Just leave me out of it.”
    He paced some more, feeling the pressure in a strangely tangible way, as if it were pressing in on him from all around. It was not unlike diving deep into the black depths of the ocean, a silky nothingness pushing in on him from all sides, threatening to crush his chest. To escape it, he threw open the French doors and strode out onto the stone terrace.
    As it had earlier, the cool air calmed him. He dropped onto a bench and leaned over, his elbows on his thighs, his hands rubbing the back of his neck.
    He had known Serena was dying when he had married her. He had loved her, and the thought of letting her face death alone had been incomprehensible. Her decline and ultimate death had been the worst thing he could ever imagine going through. He had endured it for her, but he had vowed to himself never to go through anything like it again.
    Rachel isn’t facing death .
    “No, but she’s facing pain, and I’ve had enough pain to last me a lifetime.”
    What about her? You could ease her pain . You could lighten her burden .
    “How?” he asked his inner voice as he pulled his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger.
    Magic .
    Bryan laughed at that. He wasn’t sure he knew what magic was anymore. Was he supposed to believe he could pull a rabbit out of his hat, and Rachel and Addie’s troubles would disappear? ft wouldn’t happen.
    But it might help .
    After settling his glasses back into place, he reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and withdrew a short black wand, not more than five inches long and as big around as a cigarette. With a flick of his wrist, it became a silken red rose with a thin stem that abruptly drooped over his hand. A smile lifted the corner of his mouth.
    “If I can’t dazzle her with my magic, maybe I can be a source of comic relief,” he said dryly, tucking the wilted rose back into his shirt pocket.
    He hadn’t been able to perform the simplest of tricks for months now. Though he kept trying, deep down he was afraid he had lost his magic forever.
    He pushed himself up from the bench and wandered back into the house. His broad shoulders sagging under the twin burdens of exhaustion and stress, he picked up the glass of whiskey he had left on the leather blotter of the walnut desk. He had hoped the excellent liquor he’d found in a bottle in a desk drawer would help him sleep. The glass was nearly empty. Bryan frowned. He could have sworn he’d left a good inch in it when he’d gone outside. He didn’t