Upstairs in her domed bedroom Juno was surprised by how much she disliked the idea of doing Magic directly to Jackson. The alternative was going to Canada again, and revisiting Joni’s predicament which had all but slipped from her mind. But surely she’d given birth by now and would have a painting in progress.
Out came the crystal ball. The usual cloudy moment before the mists parted… and there was Joni, her hair longer again, looking svelte but tired.
‘Check this out,’ said a male voice. Joni turned around. She was in a kitchen, a large, bright, tidy kitchen.
‘Just got ’em from the printers,’ said the guy. He had to be a couple years older than Joni, a good-looking dude, tall, with a shock of dark hair. He put a roll of paper on the kitchen table and straightened it out. It was a bunch of posters. The topmost one had a photo of him and Joni on it, both holding guitars and smiling.
‘We already got The Folk Cellar and The Red Door,’ he went on. ‘Straight in, right after the big day.’
Joni was looking at the poster, but clearly not taking it in. ‘Do we really have to do the church?’ she said. Her voice sounded different, not like Juno remembered it, perky and strong. It had a quiver in it.
‘Look, we been through this. We’ve done it now, so we might as well go the whole hog. It’ll be fun. Big party, hey?’ The guy took one hand off of the posters to squeeze Joni’s arm. The sheets rolled up again.
It was when Joni straightened them once more that Juno saw the ring on her finger and read the words underneath the photograph.
Joni had crossed the border and was married now. Her husband was called Chuck. Her new name was Joan Mitchell.