A Ring For Christmas. Joan Elliott Pickart
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secretaries and have them reschedule whatever is on the calendar. My father won’t mind getting the word that he’s free to go golfing.”
“But I drove my van here so you can’t take me home.”
“I’ll bring you back later for your van or you can drive yourself if you feel you’re up to it,” he said. “We’re not postponing this discussion, Maggie.”
Maggie sighed in defeat. “I had a feeling you’d say that. I’ll drive myself. Meet me at Roses and Wishes.” She got to her feet and hurried away.
Luke rose, dropped several bills onto the table, then accepted the check from the waitress.
“Is everything all right, sir?” the woman said.
“Ask me later,” Luke said absently, “because right now I really don’t know.”
Maggie drove blindly to Roses and Wishes, wishing she could turn back the clock to before her momentous announcement about the Jenkins Jinx.
No, she thought with yet another sad-sounding sigh, there was no point in pretending the Jenkins Jinx didn’t exist. Luke was pressing her to explore, actually embrace, the strange whatever-it-was that was happening between them, and it wasn’t fair to keep the jinx a secret.
She dashed an errant tear from her cheek.
It just would have been nice, she mused wistfully, to have had more time with Luke, enjoy his company, allow herself to feel so feminine and desirable, before revealing the god-awful truth.
Once she explained it all to Luke, it would hover between them like a palpable entity, a living thing that would make him uncomfortable because she was a weird person from a very weird family.
“I’m so sad,” Maggie said as she parked in front of Roses and Wishes. “So very, very sad.”
She waited in the van until Luke arrived, then they entered the house together. Maggie left the Closed sign on the door.
“Let’s go upstairs to the living room,” she said, sounding extremely weary.
“Whatever you say,” he said quietly.
In the tiny living room Maggie sank onto a rocking chair and Luke settled on the sofa, spreading his arms across the top as he looked at Maggie intently. She rocked back and forth for several minutes, staring into space.
“Maggie,” Luke said, “you can’t pretend I’m not sitting here waiting for you to talk to me.”
She shifted her gaze to meet his.
“I know,” she said. “It’s just that I hate to…Never mind. You have the right to know what I meant by the Jenkins Jinx.” She drew a steadying breath. “I told you that it goes back many generations in our family.”
Luke nodded, aware that the lunch he’d consumed now felt like a rock in the pit of his stomach.
“We all have had to face the devastating fact,” Maggie continued, “that for unknown reasons it is impossible for any of us to live happily ever after with our chosen mate. It just isn’t going to happen, no matter what. And that, Luke, is the Jenkins Jinx.”
Luke moved his arms forward to rest his elbows on his knees and make a steeple of his fingers.
“I beg your pardon?” he said, frowning.
“You heard me.”
“Okay, I heard you, but I can’t fathom that you actually believe that a jinx, a spell, whatever, has been cast over your entire family.”
“Like a gloomy dark cloud,” Maggie said, nodding.
“Maggie, come on, give me a break. Things like that don’t really happen. So, yes, some of the couples in your clan got divorced, but—”
“Everyone got divorced.”
“Everyone?” Luke said, raising his eyebrows.
“Everyone. We researched our family tree as far back as we could and, yes, everyone.”
“That’s rather…strange.” Luke sank back against the cushions. “Whew.”
“That’s the Jenkins Jinx,” Maggie said. “No one understands why we’re plagued by it, what we did to draw this lousy card, but there’s no denying the truth of it. Oh, there are those who feel they’ll be the one to break the spell, end it for all time, because they’re so in love, so sure when they marry that it’s forever. Then—bam!—it all falls apart and yet another gleeful divorce attorney has a bill to send.
“My mother was a starry-eyed bride,” she said. “My father left us when I was ten. Poof. Gone. My sister has been divorced twice, my brother once. My grandparents, great-grandparents…Oh, I can go even further back than that, I guarantee you. We all agree we’re doomed.”
“But—”
“Therefore, Luke, I never intend to fall in love and marry. I’m not going to have my dreams shattered and my heart broken. I’m not. So I create fairy-tale-perfect weddings for others to…to satisfy my romantic soul. But I’m beginning to wonder if Roses and Wishes is a dumb thing to be doing because it just emphasizes over and over what I’ll never have.”
“But you’re planning the wedding of your dreams for Precious and Clyde,” Luke said.
“Yes, and it’s probably foolish, but I’m giving it to myself like a gift to cherish before I make a decision about whether I want to continue as a wedding coordinator.”
Luke got to his feet and began to pace—as well as he could in the limited space. He dragged a restless hand through his hair and narrowed his eyes in deep concentration. He finally stopped in front of Maggie’s rocking chair, planted his hands on the arms and leaned down, speaking close to her lips as she stared at him in wide-eyed surprise.
“No,” he said.
“No…what?” she said, aware, so very aware, that his lips were mere inches from hers.
“No, I won’t accept this,” he said. “So, okay, your family seems to have had more than your share of divorces, but there is no such thing as an honest-to-goodness jinx, Maggie.”
“That’s what my sister’s second husband said—at first.”
“Maggie, you’re an intelligent woman,” Luke said, his voice rising. “How can you buy into this malarkey?”
“Facts are facts,” she said, matching his volume. “We checked as far back as we possibly could, hoping, praying, we’d find even one couple that stayed together on our family tree. There wasn’t one. Not one, Luke. The jinx is real and I won’t allow myself to think I could be the one to break it, make it disappear, because it’s here to stay. That’s the way it is and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“It’s impossible,” he said none too quietly. “A jinx is a superstition, a…a…Damn it, this is the most frustrating conversation I’ve ever had in my entire life.”
“Well, excuse me all the way to Sunday,” Maggie yelled, “but the truth is the truth.”
‘Oh? Well, try this truth on for size, lady,” Luke hollered.
He released his white-knuckle hold on the arms of the rocking chair, gripped Maggie’s shoulders, hauled her to her feet…and kissed her.
Maggie stiffened in shock, but as Luke’s kiss gentled and he dropped his hands from her shoulders to wrap his arms around her and bring her close to his body, she nestled against him. Her arms floated upward to encircle his neck, her fingertips inching into his thick ebony hair.
The kiss was hot. It was desire, not lust, with unnamed emotions intertwining with the want and need. The kiss was powerful enough to push aside for that tick of time the existence of the Jenkins Jinx and allow them to savor the taste, the feel, the very essence of each