Prelude to Magic: The Prequel to Moonlight and Illusions by Diane Wylie Page B

He was so grateful that she
still did care after Cal’s tragic death. For some time her feelings
for him had seemed lost, so long did she grieve. She needed someone
to blame, and Stephen filled the role. Something important had been
lost between them the night their son had been killed using the Companion Spirit .
    He smiled at her, his beautiful wounded angel, with
sorrow in her eyes, which never faded. “Come, sweetheart,” he stood
and held out a hand to her, “this has been a hard day with another
sure to follow.”
    Placing her hand in his, she let out a sigh and
allowed him to help her up. Opening his arms, she walked into them
and embraced him tightly around the waist. He sighed, grateful for
the small pleasure.
    “I wish you would stop avoiding my suggestions.”
Pulling back, she lifted her face to meet his gaze. “We only have
each other now, and all the money we need to last us a
lifetime.”
    He gave her no comment. Why, after all these years,
didn’t she understand how he felt about his career as a magician?
Stephen stepped away and she released her hold. By candlelight
Michael looked peaceful, almost content in death. The slight
curvature to his mouth made it appear he had experienced or seen
something pleasant. It didn’t seem as though his brother had
suffered. Thank you, God.
    His wife stood beside him. Stephen could almost feel
her hurt at his rebuff. But how could he possibly explain it to her
again? Over and over, in many different words, he had attempted to
make Ruby understand the pull of his craft. If Stephen Elliott were
a magician no longer, who would he possibly be? Nothing. No one. He
had been no one before and had no desire to sink into that kind of
irrelevance again.
    When he looked at Ruby, standing silently next to
him, she had tears shimmering in her eyes again. Who had put them
there, her brother-in-law or husband?
    “Goodbye, Michael,” Stephen said softly then closed
the coffin’s finely carved lid. Tomorrow they would bury his older
brother, but as long as Stephen was alive, he would carry Michael’s
memory with him.
    Taking Ruby’s unresisting hand, he blew out the
candles and led her through the silent house.
    * * *
    “Ruby, dearest, the carriage awaits.”
    Stephen adjusted his bow tie and shirt cuffs. He
wore a formal black jacket for tonight, complete with a shiny,
black top hat.
    “Are you sure you want to go to this ball?” She
stepped out of the bedroom and promptly took his breath away. At
age fifty-three, Ruby Elliott was still the loveliest woman he had
ever seen. The lighter gray streaks in her hair only enhanced her
beauty. She had artfully woven dainty silver ribbon and tiny pearls
into her upswept hairstyle. The dark green velvet gown accentuated
her figure wonderfully. Although she claimed her waist had
thickened throughout the years, he couldn’t see it. To him her
figure appeared as voluptuous and desirable as ever.
    “’ Tis the holiday season, my love.
While we have mourned the loss of Michael for lo’ these many
months, life is passing us by. I long to see you laugh and dance
again.”
    Her expression reflected her doubt. Inwardly Stephen
sighed, but he gave her his most brilliant smile. “Give me a
chance. I vow you will enjoy tonight.”
    He bowed low over her gloved hand, kissed the back
of it gently, and led her down the steps. Minutes later they
mounted the steps of the rented carriage.
    “You didn’t want to take the automobile tonight,
Stephen?” Ruby asked as she pulled the blanket over her legs. “I
know how much you love to drive the thing.”
    Sliding in beside her, Stephen grinned thinking of
his beautiful new Model T machine. “Not tonight, my dear. The
old-fashioned method of transportation is more romantic, do you not
agree?”
    “Of course.” She gave his knee a pat.
    The driver urged the horses forward into the crisp,
cold night.
    As the Elliotts walked into the building, Stephen
heard the musicians playing familiar Christmas