Three Wishes(142)

It hadn’t been easy going.

Jon was a good-looking boy, tall, lean, strong, with dark-brown hair and eyes. He was smart, not as smart as Tash but he was street smart, sharp as a tack and a quick learner.

Jon was also rough, foul-mouthed, ill-mannered and had a deprived life that equalled and even surpassed Nate’s.

Tash, with her open heart, had taken to him immediately. She loved having a brother and it was Tash’s months of unrelenting exuberance that broke him down. That and, of course, Lily’s unwavering but not overbearing love, just like Laura had shown to Nate, and Nate’s firm guidance and innate understanding. Not to mention Fazire’s outlandish but caring regard, Maxine’s dramatics and definitely overbearing love, Laura’s gentle affection and Victor’s gruff kindness.

It took a year but Jon settled in then he accepted them then his status of “adopted” melted away and he allowed himself to become one of the family.

The only one who knew his full story was Tash. Or Jon thought Tash was the only one who knew. Fazire had overheard them and he’d called down Lily who’d waved at a passing Nate and they’d all listened in until Nate, realising what they were eavesdropping on, had forcefully pushed both his wife and her genie down the hall as they silently struggled then eventually relented. Jon had bared everything to his new sister. And Tash had kept his secrets and they were close, truly close, as siblings should be.

Even though, to Nate’s gentle annoyance, they fought constantly.

They stood, the three of them, and watched Lily sign her books.

“I wish these crowds would go away, I’m hungry,” Tash mumbled impatiently.

“Careful with your wishes, little sister.” Jon threw his arm casually around Tash’s shoulders and she leaned into her brother, “Fazire’s watching.”

Fazire, Nate noted, wasn’t watching, he was scowling. Then again, Fazire always scowled.

Jon knew about Fazire. Jon had even been granted his own wish though he, as with Tash, had yet to use it. This wish had been granted two years ago, after a visit from the Great Grand Genie Number One. For some reason, these visits came regularly, usually when Lily baked Nate a cake, something she did each week of their first months as husband and wife (as promised) then each month after his first-ever birthday then yearly, without fail, on his birthday – and other times besides.

The rules of Fazire’s magical attendance on their family had been made at their wedding reception. Each direct descendent of Nate and Lily’s line had one wish, if Fazire wished to bestow it, and Fazire would live with the first-born girl unless he had another favourite, that was entirely up to Fazire.

Fazire and Jon had a relationship that rivalled even the one the genie had with Tash. Then again, Fazire loved anyone that Lily loved. Even, Nate realised some time ago, Nate himself.

Fazire stomped up to Nate and his children but, as ever, he directed his glare at Nate.

“Do something. I need a coffee. I need cake. I will die if I do not have cake this instant,” he demanded of Nate.

“You won’t die Fazire. You can’t die,” Tash pointed out, wrinkling her nose at her genie.

“Well, I’ll experience a fate worse than death,” Fazire shot back.

“What’s that?” Jon asked, grinning as he always did at Fazire’s eccentric behaviour.

“Extreme hunger and lack of cake,” Fazire answered and his gaze swung to Nate. “Nathaniel, do something.”

Nate looked at his watch. Lily had stayed forty-five minutes passed the time she was supposed to stop.

He turned his head and looked at his wife. Every day, she got more beautiful, so much so he wondered vaguely if he’d been bewitched.

He didn’t ask, mainly because he didn’t care.

“Lily,” he called, his deep voice carrying across the expanse that separated them.

Lily’s head shot up from signing a book and she smiled at her husband.

Nate’s gut twisted but it wasn’t at all unpleasant, in fact it was intensely pleasant and anyway, Nate was not only used to it, he liked it.

“Yes?” she called back.

“Fazire wants cake,” Nate told her.

“I do not want cake,” Fazire announced loudly and all eyes that had not turned to Nate (and stared, he was used to the women who stood in Lily’s book signing line staring at him then again, he was long since used to most women staring at him), turned at Fazire’s announcement and the genie finished, “I need cake.”

“We’ll shut down the line,” an employee offered to a groaning audience.

“Ten more,” Lily put in then turned her smile at the line and explained, “I have to see to my family.”

More heads turning, more stares at Nate, the incredibly handsome Jon, the extraordinarily beautiful Tash and the bizarre Fazire. Then heads swung back to Lily.

Most of the line disbursed good-naturedly and with thoughts that the strange man looked exactly like a genie and also, of course, that Lily McAllister’s husband was impossibly handsome.

Lily finished her ten books, shook hands with the bookstore manager, spoke briefly with employees then moved with her usual unaffected grace toward her family.

Upon arrival, she kissed Tash’s forehead, Jon’s cheek and then, up on tiptoe, eyes warm on his, she brushed her lips against her husband’s cheek.