Ghostly Echoes (Jackaby #3)(79)

“What did you wish for?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Jackaby said, rubbing his neck. “My life as I knew it was over. I was alone. I was afraid. I wanted nothing that a wet penny could give me. The nice man patted my arm and pushed his cart away down the cobblestones. I watched my penny sink to the bottom of the fountain. That’s when I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“The first penny, the little girl’s. It was glowing blue, but a warm blue, just like the girl’s aura—a hopeful blue. My own coin came to rest beside it, brown and lusterless. Her coin had been as dull as mine, but the wish had changed it. It was now shining with a raw and radiant optimism—a lucky penny, indeed.”

“Missed opportunity, then,” I said. “The man’s story was real, after all. You should have made a wish.”

Jackaby opened his eyes, and a smile gently returned to his cheeks. “I did not need the wish so much as I needed the lesson,” he said. “I learned what I needed to learn. I learned that we make our own luck, Miss Rook. It wasn’t the coin. It was finding something to believe in. There is real power in that.”

“I like that,” I said. “So, what have you found to believe in, sir?”

Jackaby looked at me for a long time. His storm gray eyes bore into mine, but his expression was curiously gentle. At length he rose to his feet. “Good night, Miss Rook,” he said. “Until tomorrow comes.”

In another moment Jackaby would be out the door. Soon I would hear his feet pad down the carpet, hear his door click shut at the end of the hall. For that instant, though, I felt a curious sensation ripple over me. I felt the knot of fear inside me loosen. I felt as though if I looked down I might see myself aglow—blue, perhaps, but a warm blue, a hopeful blue.

“Good night, Mr. Jackaby,” I said. “Until tomorrow comes.”