Miracle Man by Hildy Fox

car with the Miracle right there behind him, the concept became
concrete. Cold, hard and inescapable.
    "That's him,"
Lahra said softly, as if Marcus might hear from across the street.
    Wally pinpointed the tall,
well dressed man who was now crossing the street. Lahra's pulse went up a notch
as she realised Marcus was heading straight for the café.
    "Heading our way,"
Wally observed.
    The small brass bell above
the door rang and Marcus Dean came in off the street. He hadn't seen Lahra
sitting there, and went straight to the counter. She watched his every move.
The way he opened his jacket to get his wallet from inside. The action of his
jaw as he asked the waitress for two take-away lattes. The turn of his wrist as
he checked the time on his silver wristwatch. She lowered her cup and sat in
silence, waiting for the inevitable.
    Marcus turned and saw Lahra.
She thought a smile had begun to grow across his lips, but before she could be
sure his face went stony serious. Their eyes locked for several seconds,
finally broken by the arrival of his coffees. He passed a ten dollar bill over
the counter and told the waitress to keep the change, then moved across and
stood near, but not too near, Lahra's table.
    "Lahra, what a pleasant
surprise," he said, but there was nothing pleasant in his tone.

 
    How easy it would have been
for Lahra to lose herself in his eyes. Memories of the night before, of the
sweetness of his lips engaging hers, hammered the thin veil of control inside
her. The angry knot in her stomach was unfurling as if he had some sort of
telepathic control over it, breaking it down, taking away the very thing that
allowed her to keep her distance from him. She had to keep control. She had to
stay focussed. Every second she had to remind herself that Marcus Dean was no
longer the man who had kissed her in a way she had never been kissed before. Now
she had to find a way to think of him only as her nemesis.
    Lahra traded a glance with
Wally, then addressed Marcus. "Something tells me we'll be crossing paths
quite a bit in the near future. Marcus, I'd like you to meet Walter
Dymple." Marcus acknowledged Wally with a smile, and Wally managed to cock
an eyebrow in response. "He was the projectionist at the Miracle Cinema
before you lost him his job."
    Marcus’s smile faded
quickly, and Wally smirked beneath the cover of his moustache as he sipped his
tea. "Mr Dymple, as I tried to explain to Lahra, I'm very sorry about the
current situation, but once we have finished our job there will be plenty of
employment opportunities for you to take your pick from..."
    "And as I tried to
explain to you , Mr Dean, being out of work is not the issue," Lahra
argued. "Obviously I was wasting my breath."
    Lahra and Marcus stared at
each other for what seemed like a very long time. His green-gold eyes were like
a palette of emotions. She could see dark colours of defiance, mixed with
flickering hues of remembrance. A part of her yearned to wake up as if from
dream, to discover that the conflict between them wasn't real, that this whole
mess was just imaginary fiction. But she knew better. There could be no backing
down to Marcus Dean. She met his gaze with equal defiance, banishing all traces
of remembrance from her mind.
    "Well, I must be
going," Marcus said, stepping away. "It was nice to meet you
Walter."
    Wally didn't look up from
his cup. Lahra raised hers to her lips. The brass bell rang as Marcus stepped
out into Main Street. The two of them watched silently as Marcus strode toward
the Miracle, where a man waved to him in greeting. It was Perkins. Marcus
handed one of the foam cups to him, and they went inside.

 
    Lahra looked across at
Wally, a grim expression on both their faces. "So," she said
eventually. "What were these ideas of yours?"
    *
    The Riverbank Gazzette was
one of two local newspapers in the region, but it was by far the more popular,
and the only one circulated three times a week. Lahra had found the paper