Chapter 39
Tess
“Exploded?” I looked at the decidedly non-exploded trophy they held.
Everybody in the stands and on the field moved back.
“Magically speaking,” the older Celine said testily. “It shoved so much punitive magic at Ace that it put him into that stasis.”
“Even assuming we buy this, how did he end up here at the field?” Susan pushed forward, her sheriff face on. “You can’t tell me the trophy transported him here.”
Mr. Albert sighed. “No, that was us. We’d gone to his house to get the trophy and found him unconscious on the floor.”
Mr. Chester nodded. “We needed to get him help, but we couldn’t call anybody and let them find out we were involved.”
“That’s perfectly reasonable,” Jack said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So much better to dump the man here, cover him with dirt and an obfuscation spell, and hope somebody found him before he died.”
“That was my fault,” Celine the older said sheepishly. “I didn’t realize how much a temporary obfuscation spell would intensify because of the trophy’s magic. When nobody found him quickly, we were just about to do something about it. But then your witch broke the spell, and you found him. So, all was well!”
“All was well?” My voice rose in disbelief. “He could have died. He’s still in a coma.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. I can reverse that spell in three minutes.”
“Then go do it,” I demanded. “Now!”
“I just need to talk to the med mage.”
Jack called Reynolds, who handed the phone to the med mage. Jack stared down at Celine’s grandmother until she rolled her eyes and said, “Fine!” Then Jack gave his phone to the witch, and she told the med mage how to reverse the magical stasis on Ace.
We all waited—holding our collective breath—until Reynolds came back on the line. “It worked! Ace is awake.”
Jack repeated the news into the microphone, and everyone at the ballpark cheered. The elder witch de-magicked the trophy. Susan handed the trio off to Andy to take to jail, and Uncle Mike went back to the announcer’s booth.
And then we played ball and kicked Riverton’s assets in softball, fifteen to three.
Just after that final inning, when we were cheering wildly, Joe Bob Turner ran out onto the field, clutching a bullhorn and waving a familiar jewelry box around.
“Donna Portnoy! Will you marry me?”
She said yes.
The crowd went wild.
* * *
It was a great night. Everybody went to Connor’s Pub to celebrate, and the grand opening was a tremendous success. Unfortunately, Tina did a shift as a server that night and made as much money as she would in three days working for me, so she regretfully gave me her notice. I wished her well and then put my Help Wanted ad back in the Dead End Gazette.
Maybe the next employee would stick.
Rose texted me pictures of the babies, and I showed them to everyone. When Jack came back from demolishing Dave Wolf at darts, I held my phone up to him.
“They’re gorgeous,” he said.
“Yes, they are. And yes,” I told him.
“Yes?” He looked up at me with those beautiful green eyes, puzzled.
“Yes, I think about babies.” I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the high wire. “Especially since falling in love with you.”
Connor had to send his new bouncer over to ask us to continue all the kissing activities outside.