"The way you see the future? No."

"Oh, so you believe in my psychic ability, now, but not in your sister or Horace?"

"I'll always believe in Meggie. Not so sure about-"

"You're a doubting Thomas, Morgan, from one end of the spectrum to the other. You have to believe in something."

"I walked out on the only belief system I ever knew, and, pluck it, I'm having a bit of trouble finding a new one. Get off my back."

Chapter Thirty-seven.

DESTINY didn't like this peek at the old Morgan. She wanted the new fun-loving, belief-filled Morgan back, but he seemed as lost as her. More lost. He didn't even have a family to fall back on. "You have your dad to believe in. You have King and Aiden's friendship, and mine."

"Not quite the same as having a purpose," Morgan said, "but thanks."

"You'll find your purpose. You've made great strides this week. You had sex and you believe in psychics."

"Extraordinary strides," he said. "I can't wait to tell my mother."

"Hah! You got a death wish, Boy Scout? But seriously, you do believe I'm psychic, don't you?"

"I guess I do. There's no other explanation for the canvas ladybug prediction, the design for my lighthouse, and the painting of Buffy dated the day Meggie died."

"Damn you. You only believe because you've seen proof? It's always proof with you."

"I'm sorry. Forget the proof. I do have to believe in something, and it may as well be you. You're the most tangible, fascinating, and entertaining lunatic I ever took to bed."

"My cup runneth over with gratitude. Such compliments. And only yesterday you were a grumblestiltskin."

He pulled her cowboy hat down over her eyes. "C'mon, Kismet. Let's plant Meggie's garden to the left, closer to the lighthouse, and leave Ida's resting place alone. When we're done, there'll be flowers for all of them."

They worked silently together as they planted Meggie's flowers around the angel statue, the lighthouse statue, and the garden stone with Destiny engraved on it. When they finished planting, they outlined the tiny garden with beach rocks and shells.

Together they sat back on their heels to admire their work, the bees buzzing, the air sweet.

Morgan nodded. "Ask Horace where he's buried-there's a sentence you don't hear often enough-so we can move his body. Do you think lunacy is catching?"

"Morgan Jarvis, you're hiding a heart." Destiny bit her lip. "I think I might be crushing on you."

"In that case, you're heading for a fall. Crush is the right word. Hit your head on me, and you'll crack it open. I'm made of stone. You don't crush on a man because he's going to spend a fortune to move the body of the hundred-year-old stranger haunting his home. Besides, what's the big deal?"

"You're acting on faith."

"Faith in you. Not in general; believe me." Morgan's denial brought out the grumblestiltskin in him. "All these years," he said, almost to himself, "I thought I was acting on faith, but I was trying to make up to my mother for failing her. Did you ever feel as if you'd lost your center? Like you were wandering aimlessly?"

"Yes!" Destiny's heart skipped a beat. She touched his arm. "That's why I'm searching for my psychic goal. Without it, I'm wandering aimlessly. You and I both need something to ground us," she said, figuring it out as she spoke. "Want to buddy up and be there for each other until we find our paths?"

Morgan tilted his head thoughtfully. "Friends who are lovers? Sounds risky to me."

"Don't look now, but we're already there. Call it safety in numbers?"

"I guess we are." Morgan looked out beyond the sea. "Two against the world? You and me, babe? That kind of thing?"

He was mocking her. Her frustration came out in a sigh. "You know what I mean. For emotional support."

"Oh, Kismet, that's the most dangerous kind." Morgan pulled off a work glove, dropped it in the dirt, and cupped her cheek, as if she might be made of porcelain, but a fire raged in the depths of his tiger eyes. "The longer you look at me like that," he said, melting her to her core, "the more I want to take you to bed."

She covered his hand as their lips touched.

"Take me to bed," she whispered, combing a hand through his burnished hair. She could love this man. Maybe she already did. She knew only that she'd never wanted a lover so badly that she trembled with need and longing for him, and for more.

In this man, she recognized the possibility of a soul mate.

A soul mate. What an amazing thought. Frightening. Grumblestiltskin and Kismet Witch?

No way. She couldn't believe it, couldn't admit it. Didn't dare. Not to herself. Not to him. Lightning did not strike thrice.

She shivered. Pulled away. Wanted to run but stood her ground.

Morgan took her hand, brought her to her feet, slipped an arm around her waist, and led her to the house. When he shut the front door, he pinned her against it in one move.

He cupped her waist, his thumb beneath her shirt.

Destiny squeaked and stopped him. "Morgan, wait. They're back. Meggie's smiling at us, but give me a minute before we go any further."

Morgan nodded silently and stepped away from her, so she could spell them gently away.

"Company, all three

An audience not to be

Ease away; let me pray

Bide your time as I rhyme,

And spell a prime

Quest of the sublime.

"Meggie Bee, run to see

A brand-new garden

Of silly-name flowers

Beside the oak tree.

Where Ida and baby,

And Horace will be.

"Play in white light.

Let flowers delight

Keep you from sight

For a day and a night.

I can heal your brother,

But not your mother."

Destiny went limp and fell into Morgan's embrace. "Your heart is racing as fast as mine," she said.

"That was scary," he said. "I love her so much. She won't be hurt by what she saw, or by us sending her away?"

"She'll be fine. She knows we love her, and she knows that we care about each other. Buffy and Horace helped and enveloped her in their love."

"We seem to have lost our momentum," he said.