Spellbound Falls [5] For the Love of Magic

by Janet Chapman

  Vanetta rested her arms on the table again, her eyes growing haunted as she wrapped her hands around her mug. “Getting this shelter up and running as soon as possible is important to me because it’s personal. I begged for a place like this fifteen years ago in rural Alabama.”

  “You’re right, Mrs. Thurber,” Rana said. “Your home is perfect. And on behalf of the women desperately needing this shelter, we accept. This is wonderful, ladies,” she continued, looking around the table again. “We should be able to receive guests in what . . . a couple of weeks?”

  “Assuming someone answers our ad,” Olivia said. “Even the great salary we’re offering doesn’t appear to be enough incentive to lure a qualified social worker to the wilderness.” She looked at Maude and then Rana. “Are there any women from . . . your island who might like a change of scenery?” she asked with a furtive glance at Vanetta—who had no idea that Atlantis actually existed.

  “None who would understand the needs of our shelter residents,” Rana said with a sad smile. “Since domestic violence is virtually unheard of on the island.”

  Vanetta stilled with her mug halfway to her mouth. “Really? None of the men in your country ever raise a hand to your women? Well, hell,” she continued when Rana shook her head. “Why are we wasting our efforts building a shelter? Let’s just ship all the women who come to us for help to . . . to wherever it is you and Maude are from.”

  “Because running away from a problem solves nothing,” Rana said, ignoring the fact that she had run away from hers. “Our goal is to offer programs that will give these women the skills to help themselves, and merely sending them someplace safe is in essence treating them like children.”

  “Yeah,” Vanetta said on a sigh. She suddenly brightened again. “Maybe we should send the husbands and boyfriends to your island and let your men teach the bastards how to treat women.”

  “I second that motion,” Peg said, lifting her cup in salute before taking a sip, only to shudder all over as she swallowed. “Curses, that’s nasty.”

  “Curses?” Vanetta repeated.

  “I’ve given up real cussing,” Peg explained, aiming an angelic smile at Maude, “because I read that babies start developing language in the womb.”

  Julia choked on the sip of tea she’d just taken. “You gave up cussing again,” she said, using her napkin to wipe her chin, “because Charlie ran up to Christina Richie in the Trading Post yesterday and told her that Jacob had taken his friggin’ cock.”

  “Clock!” Peg said, her cheeks flushing. “Charlie still has trouble with his Ls and was trying to say Jacob had taken the clock he was looking at.”

  “Hmm,” Julia murmured, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I guess that means he was telling Christina his brother had taken his flying clock.”

  Peg looked at her watch. “Speaking of my sweet little angel,” she said, pushing back her chair and standing up. “I promised Duncan I’d meet him at the marina at nine thirty to take Charlie off his hands so he can leave for Pine Creek. He’s going to see if he can talk one of his MacBain cousins into becoming our chief of police.”

  “But I thought he was going to ask his . . . ah, cousin Niall to fill the position,” Julia quickly prevaricated, since Vanetta also had no idea that Niall was Duncan’s distant ancestor. “At least that’s what Nicholas told me.”

  Peg snatched her purse and jacket off her chair and started backing away. “We found out Brodie MacBain just got back from Afghanistan, and Duncan feels it’s only fair to give a decorated veteran first dibs.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Rana said, also standing. “I have a favor to ask you, Peg,” she said in a whisper as soon as they reached the door.

  “What’s up?” Peg asked as she slipped on her jacket, only to sigh when she tried zipping it closed but couldn’t. “Dam—darn,” she muttered, hiking her purse over her shoulder. “It looks like I’m gonna have to dig out my old maternity clothes already.”

  “Were you showing at four months with Peter and Jacob?”

  “Not this much.” Peg smoothed her fleece over her softly protruding belly. “I didn’t blow up like the Pillsbury Doughboy until my seventh month, which is why we didn’t know I was having twins until Repeat popped out, taking Billy and me and the doctor by surprise.”

  Billy being Peg’s deceased first husband, Rana knew. It was Billy Thompson who had given Jacob the nickname Repeat, when he had exclaimed in the delivery room, “Hey, it’s Pete and Repeat!” The man had died in a construction accident fourteen months later, leaving Peg to single-handedly raise their two daughters and twin boys. That is until Duncan MacKeage had somehow managed to capture the guarded woman’s heart, likely by falling just as madly in love with her small tribe of heathens. The newly formed family had expanded nine months to the day after the wedding, when Peg had given birth to a handsome and gregarious second-generation Maine highlander they’d named Murdoc Charles MacKeage. Duncan called the boy Mur the Magnificent and Peg vehemently called him Charlie.

  Rana was looking forward to their upcoming battle to name the new twins.

  “Your favor?” Peg reminded her.

  “Oh, yes.” Rana moved closer, putting herself between Peg and the women at the far end of the room. “I was wondering if you would teach me to drive.”

  “A car?” Peg said in surprise.

  Rana nodded. “A pickup, actually. A rather old one. I was told it’s a standard shift, whatever that means.”

  Peg gave a crooked smile. “It means I hope you have good hand-foot coordination and really strong neck muscles.” She suddenly frowned. “What sadistic salesman sold you a standard shift?”

  “I didn’t purchase it from a dealership, but from the man I bought my house from.”

  Peg’s expression turned to horror. “Are you talking about Pops’ old pickup?” She shook her head when Rana nodded. “But that doesn’t sound like Gene Latimer. He’s the last person I would expect to take advantage of someone who didn’t know better, especially a woman. Gene’s so straight shooting he makes Reverend Peter uncomfortable.”

  “Gene tried to talk me out of buying the truck,” Rana assured her, “but I insisted he include it with the welding equipment. I don’t wish to own a new truck, anyway, as it will get ruined when I load it with rusty old iron and steel.”

  “When you what?”

  Rana opened the door and guided Peg outside. “I also purchased Averill Latimer’s welding equipment, and Zack is going to teach me how to cut and weld metal into beautiful statues.”

  Peg went back to smiling, albeit crookedly again. “Wow. When you take off your tiara, you don’t mess around, do you?”

  Rana smoothed down her shirt. “It kept getting in the way every time I wanted to do something . . . un-queenly.”

  “Yeah, I could see where that might be a problem. But instead of leaving it hanging on your bedpost, couldn’t you have sold it for at least enough money to buy a truck with an automatic transmission?”

  Rana looked up in surprise. “You don’t think I can drive a standard shift?”

  “Oh, no, of course you can,” Peg said, nodding vigorously. “And I would love to teach you. When do you want to start? I’m free today until the bus brings my tribe back from school. How about I go get Charlie then swing back here and pick you up? You ladies should be done enjoying your tea and fruit by then, shouldn’t you?”

  Rana eyed her suspiciously. “Will I see a marina coffee cup in your hand when you pick me up?”

  Peg started backing away. “No offense, but Maude is a bit scary.”

  “But is that not a quality you would want in a midwife? Oh, and Peg?”

  She halted. “Yes?”

  “The driving lessons will be our little secret?”

  “Not a problem. Um, any particular reason you asked me?”

  Rana set her hand on the doorknob. “Why, I would think the reason is obvious. I assumed any woman who would willingly marry Duncan MacKeage surely must have nerves of ste
el,” she said, stepping through the door when Peg burst out laughing.

  Chapter Five

  “This is why I want boys,” Peg said as she led Charlie over to a tree on the back side of Rana’s garage. She then positioned the three-year-old in front of her and bent to unfasten his pants. “Potty training them is a breeze, especially if they come in pairs,” she continued as she leaned him forward to brace his hands against the tree. “Because just as soon as they realize they can compete to see who can pee the farthest, they don’t want to waste their precious body fluids on a diaper. Okay, let her rip, big man.”

  Rana looked down at the small plastic card Peg had handed her. “You said Duncan . . . made this for me?”

  “Yeah.” Peg straightened as she continued holding on to Charlie’s jacket to keep him steady. “Hey, don’t worry; I didn’t mention our lessons. I only told him you bought a truck, but that you didn’t have an actual license. I swear the man pulled one out of thin air faster than I could say abracadabra,” she said, batting her eyelashes, “because he somehow got the notion that seeing him make magic turns me on.”

  Rana slipped the license in her purse. “Yes, our men do love to impress us with their tricks,” she said, walking to her pickup when she saw Charlie had finished drowning the tree. “I’m ready to begin if you are.”

  “Wait,” Peg said, carrying the boy to her SUV. “I thought about it on my way back from the marina, and I think our first lesson should be in my truck.”

  “How is driving your truck going to teach me to drive mine?”

  Peg turned from buckling Charlie into his car seat. “I think you should get used to working a gas pedal and brake before we add in a clutch and shifting. All of which,” she added, “you’ll have to do at the same time.”

  Rana glanced at her battered and rusted pickup, then looked at Peg’s much newer SUV, which although muddy, was completely devoid of dents. “But what if I hit a tree or drive into a ditch? I would pay to have your truck repaired, of course, but how would you explain the damage to Duncan?” She eyed Charlie in the backseat, just now realizing she might well be putting the child in danger. “Maybe we should do this another time.”

  “Pfft,” Peg scoffed as she opened the front passenger door. “You’re not going to hit a tree because you already know how to drive.”

  “No, I don’t,” Rana said, rushing around the truck when Peg got in. She opened the driver’s door and climbed in behind the steering wheel. “I’ve never driven a vehicle.”

  “Sure you have. I’ve seen you drive snowmobiles and Nicholas’s boat, and you tootle around in the resort carts all the time.”

  “But those aren’t automobiles.”

  “Same concept, just different applications.” Peg pushed a straw into a juice box and handed it to her son in the backseat, then faced forward and fastened her seat belt. “They all have a throttle, a brake, and a steering wheel. Well, except water is the brake on a boat.” She reached over and turned the key to start the engine, making Rana scramble to fasten her own seat belt. “You have to press on the brake to put the truck in gear, which you do by using this lever,” Peg continued, touching the lever jutting from the right side of the steering column. “Pull it toward you and down while watching the letters below those larger dials, and you’ll see the light move from P for park, R for reverse, N for neutral, and D for drive. You can ignore the numbers because this is an automatic transmission,” she said with a cheeky grin, “meaning the truck knows which gear it should use. Okay, go ahead and put it—no, wait. Before we start, get a feel for the gas pedal by pressing down on it a few times.”

  Rana leaned to the side to see her feet. “Which pedal is the gas?”

  “Oh, sorry. The tall one on the right is the throttle and the wide one is the brake, just like on the resort carts. The setup is almost always the same on anything with an engine—gas on the right, brake on the left.”

  Rana pressed on the right pedal, only to yank her foot away when the engine roared loud enough to shake the truck.

  “Gently,” Peg said with a laugh. “A truck is a lot more powerful than a resort cart. Just think of it as squeezing a horse’s sides when you want to move forward. Pressing hard is like kicking it into a gallop.”

  Rana pressed softly on the gas pedal. “If we’re not moving, why is that needle moving?” she asked, pointing at one of the larger dials, which resort carts did not have. “See, it drops back when I take my foot away.”

  “That’s the tachometer. It tells you how fast the engine is turning over. You don’t need to pay attention to it today, but you will in your pickup. It’ll help you decide when to shift to a higher gear. The only dial you should keep an eye on is the one beside it. That’s the speedometer.”

  “Then why does your truck have a tachometer?”

  “It’s a guy thing,” Peg said with a dismissive shrug. “Okay. Press your right foot on the brake, pull the lever down until the D lights up, then transfer your foot to the gas.”

  Rana frowned through the bottom of the wheel at the pedals. “I have two feet, so why wouldn’t I use one on each pedal?” She looked over at Peg. “That’s how it works on a snowmobile, only with my hands.”

  Peg shook her head. “You’re going to need your left foot to work the clutch in your pickup, so you might as well start training your right foot to work two pedals.”

  Rana pressed down the brake with a deep sigh. “This is far more complicated than I was expecting. There are so many dials to watch, how does one pay attention to the road? And all the buttons! The resort carts have a key and a light switch.” She gave Peg a sheepish smile. “I thought it would be relatively simple, since I’ve seen your daughters driving with Duncan on the tote roads, and they’re only twelve and ten.”

  “That’s a safety thing,” Peg said. “Out here we teach our kids to drive as soon as they can see over the steering wheel, because they could be our only means of getting help in an emergency. Don’t worry, driving will become second nature just like your smartphone did. That took you what . . . all of two days to learn? So okay,” she said, rubbing her hands together, “let’s go see if we can find some grange ladies to run over.” Her smile turned sinister. “Extra points if you take out their ringleader.”

  Rana stilled with her hand on the shifting lever. “You can’t mean for me to drive on the main road for my very first lesson.”

  “Well, you’re not going to learn anything idling up and down a camp road. That’s why I got you the license.”

  Sending a silent prayer to Athena, goddess of wisdom and courage, Rana moved the shifting lever to the D, then slowly let out on the brake. “Nothing’s happening.”

  “Because you aren’t giving it any gas. Gently,” Peg said with a laugh when they suddenly shot forward and then jerked to a halt when Rana stomped on the brake.

  “Oh, friggin’ mess, Mama.”

  Peg closed her eyes on a groan. “Duncan really needs to start watching his language around Charlie,” she muttered, twisting to look at her son. “You’re okay, big man,” she soothed, pulling her coat sleeve over her hand to wipe juice off the poor child’s face. “Let’s give it another go,” she said, facing forward again. “Or we’re gonna miss our chance to flatten those bun-stealing grange ladies.”

  Realizing Peg was attempting to calm her with small talk, Rana decided she’d made a wise choice for her driving instructor. She checked for traffic and gently eased down on the gas, thankful Peg had circled around the garage when they’d arrived so she didn’t have to back up. “Is there a particular reason you’re not enamored with the grange ladies?” she asked, guiding the large SUV down the narrow camp road.

  Peg gave a soft snort. “The spring Mac brought Henry to Inglenook, the grange ladies were raising funds to send Olivia and Sophie to Disneyworld because her dead husband, Keith Baldwin, was the town’s only war hero. But when Olivia said absolutely no way, and Mac suggested they raise money for a general widow’s fund instead, those busybodies
made me and my kids their new pet cause. Um, you’re doing great, but you might want to go a little faster than a turtle.”

  Rana eased down on the gas, pleased to discover that driving a truck was no more difficult than driving one of the resort carts. “But what’s wrong with that, Peg? Surely you could have used help providing for four young children.”

  “They were going to put pictures of my kids on all their friggin’ fund-raising jars and stick them in all the stores in Spellbound and Turtleback.”

  “Oh, how embarrassing. Please tell me you were able to stop them.”

  Peg suddenly laughed. “I didn’t have to. Your son’s mountain-moving earthquake nicely redirected their attention.”

  “Yes,” Rana said dryly. “Epic events have a way of doing that.”

  “When Bottomless Lake suddenly turned into the Bottomless Sea, the grange ladies decided the town needed a fancier park more than I needed their charity.”

  Rana glanced over in surprise. “They really just forgot about you?”

  “Well, in their defense,” Peg said, “they watched me go from rags to riches when I started selling my gravel to Duncan to build the road up to Nova Mare. Don’t panic,” she calmly added when a small red car came racing in the camp road toward them. “There’s plenty of room for both of us. Just edge to the side and let him drive by you.”

  Only instead of continuing past when Rana guided the SUV as close to the trees as she dared, the car stopped beside them and its window lowered to expose Titus frowning up at her.

  “The top left button on your door lowers your window,” Peg said.

  Rana gently pressed on the gas pedal and drove off, stifling a smile when Peg gasped in surprise. Only they hadn’t gone more than a hundred feet when the engine suddenly shut off. Rana lifted the shifting lever into park with a resigned sigh, which was lost in her passenger’s laugh.