The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [72]
“Chase, that wish she made.” Lydia faced him fully as the carriage drew up in front of the shop. “To use her words, what do you think we deserve?”
He kissed her lips, her eyes, her cheeks and pulled her into his arms. Home. Right here, right now, he saw the start of the first true family he had ever known. “What do we deserve, Lydia? Why, to live happily ever after, of course.”
EPILOGUE
The fisherman threw the line in the water again. Mr. Arbuthnot was tired and hungry, but this was the first dry day in a week and he hated fishing in the rain.
He pulled the line across the bottom of the river and came up with a nail and a coin. But not the coin he was fishing for.
His charge was clear: to care for the coin, to share its magic. It was a charge he took seriously. Mr. Arbuthnot put the nail and the coin on the pile of items his magnetized “hook” had caught that day and was about to toss out the line again when a man came by.
He was well dressed. A successful business owner of some kind, Arbuthnot guessed. Not inclined to believe in magic. But he could be wrong.
“You know, my good man, there are no fish worth catching this time of year.”
“Yes, but then I am not trying to catch a fish.”
The man gave him the kind of look that implied he was crazy, and Mr. Arbuthnot took pity on him. “I lost something very important and I am hoping that the magnet at the end of this line will bring it home to me.”
“Huh,” the man said. “How do you know where you lost it? The river is running high right now. It is playing havoc with the waterwheel at the mill I own.”
“I can see it flash every now and again,” Arbuthnot explained as he congratulated himself on the accuracy of his identification of this man.
The mill owner stared at the river and then took a step closer to the edge. “There, right there!” He pointed to a place not two feet offshore. “I saw something flash.”
Arbuthnot trailed the line over the spot and, sure enough, he caught something. Afraid to breathe, he pulled the line in and slowly, slowly dragged the catch to within reach.
Sure enough, it was the coin. The very coin that had been minted in 1808 and sent to India, only to sink with the ship just off the coast of England. He took the coin, sparkling gold, and dried it with a handkerchief.
The man stood beside him, smiling and nodding as though he had saved the day.
“Sir, I thank you. I thank you and give you this coin if you will listen and believe what I say.”
“No, it’s your coin.” The man stumbled back and made to leave.
“It’s yours now. If you will accept that it’s a magic coin and will grant one wish. The trick is the coin will only grant the wish it feels is right. You will know it is the right wish when it glows bright and feels hot, just as it is at this moment.”
Arbuthnot held out his hand. Indeed the coin glowed and felt warm, as much a sign to Arbuthnot that he was doing the right thing as it was to the man.
“Sir, bear in my mind, the wish is yours alone to make. Once you have made one, you can pass it on.”
The man, who did not need more money, reached out and then hesitated. “I don’t know what to wish for.”
“The coin knows,” Arbuthnot repeated.
The man nodded and took it. “I’m not sure I believe you, but even if it’s a joke I will still take it. My nephew collects foreign coins and this will be a fine addition to his collection.”
“Aha, but do wish on it first before you give it to your nephew, and then pass it on, please. It is not meant to be in a collection. If you will not share it, I must keep it.”
The mill owner was obviously used to bargaining. “I’ll tell you what. If I do win what I wish for, I will pass it on. If not, it will go into my nephew’s collection.”
“Very well.” Arbuthnot nodded. “But bear in mind that the coin may interpret your wish in a way different from what you construe.”
“All right,” the man said and smiled. “I will be careful what I wish for.”
Arbuthnot decided he had to be satisfied with that. Gathering his other finds and his fishing rod, he prepared to leave.
“Good night, sir,