Spellbound Falls [5] For the Love of Magic

by Janet Chapman

  “Nooks or Kindles?”

  “Digital book readers,” Vanetta explained, only to laugh at Rana’s quizzical look. “When I noticed women standing on the town dock day after day, even when it was below freezing, I finally went out and asked what they were doing. And when they told me they have to drive into town to get a reliable cell tower signal to download books and magazines, I installed Wi-Fi in the restaurant and bar, started a book club, and offered a group discount on breakfast if they meet here Wednesday mornings.” She started backing away. “We’re up to sixteen men and women in only two months, with more joining every week as word spreads.”

  Rana frowned at the astute entrepreneur rushing off to tend to her latest community service, then grabbed a tray from under the counter and began loading it with the waiting food. Spellbound had monthly visits from a traveling bookmobile, and she knew Ezra sold a small assortment of magazines at the Trading Post, but now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen a bookstore in either Spellbound Falls or Turtleback Station. So that meant if anyone living in the wilderness wanted to read, they had to ask the bookmobile to bring them specific titles, make the three-hour drive to Bangor, or download digital books over the Internet and cell phone towers.

  Seeing there were more plates than she could safely carry in one load, Rana stopped at three and a couple of side dishes, then headed around the counter. Maybe she should suggest the grange ladies raise funds for a library instead of a museum this summer or find some way to combine the two.

  Rana stopped beside the hall leading to the restrooms, realizing why Vanetta had gotten a gleam in her eye when she’d told her not to knock any of the big-tipping men on their backsides. She took a fortifying breath, plastered a winning smile on her face, and brought her husband and son, Nicholas, Duncan, and Niall MacKeage their breakfasts. None of whom appeared surprised to see her wearing an apron and carrying a tray of food, which meant they had been watching her running around like a harried woman for the past half hour. Which also explained someone’s chair mysteriously—or rather, magically—being kicked out from under him.

  Niall immediately stood up when he saw her approaching. “Your high— Mrs. Oceanus,” he said as he looked around to see if anyone had heard him. He took the tray from her, clearly uncomfortable to have her serving him. “This is too heavy for ye. Here, let me go get the rest of the food.”

  Rana had to forcibly pull him to a stop. “Are you trying to get me fired?” she said, glancing over her shoulder as if looking for Vanetta and surprising Niall enough that it took very little effort to push him down in his chair. “I’ve already messed up two orders, and my boss thinks I’m the one who kicked that chair out from under that poor man,” she continued, darting Titus a glare for good measure. “Now I’ll probably get stiffed on my tip, and I’m trying to save up to buy a motorcycle.” But upon seeing the highlander’s stricken expression change to horror when she mentioned the motorcycle, Rana laughed and patted his shoulder. “I’m teasing, Niall. I’m helping Vanetta this morning because two of her waitresses called in sick.” She began handing out plates, not really caring which of the grinning fools got which breakfast. “And I’ve already purchased a vehicle. It might not be pretty, but I was told it has a solid frame.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want the electric cart we brought you?” Nicholas asked as he swapped plates with Duncan.

  Rana held the tray to her chest, moving her gaze to Maximilian, then to Titus, then back to Nicholas. “Why would you bring me a cart? I can’t drive it on public roads.”

  “It was Peg’s suggestion,” Duncan said, drawing her attention. “She thought you could use it on the camp road to come to town.”

  “But it’s only a two-mile walk.”

  “It will seem like six if you’re carrying groceries,” Nicholas said, “or it’s raining.” One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. “It’s already parked behind the church.”

  “Hey, brown eyes! How’s that coffee coming?”

  Niall stood up again, and Rana stepped into his path when he started toward her backside-patting patron, only to gasp when she heard a shout and turned in time to see the falling man’s windmilling arms catch the tray of the waitress scrambling out of his way, which brought the entire load of dirty dishes down on top of him.

  “There goes my motorcycle,” she said, darting a glare over her shoulder at her innocently grinning husband as she headed back into the chaos.

  • • •

  “So, Niall,” Titus said when he realized the highlander was thinking of helping Rana’s obnoxious customer leave without opening the door first, “how has the twenty-first century been treating you?”

  The twelfth-century warrior turned back to the table and sat down. “I can’t complain,” he said with a shrug. “Although I could do with fewer rules. Society has come up with a bloody lot of laws in nine hundred years.”

  “It’s going to be your job to enforce those laws,” Duncan growled, driving his fork into his plate of food, “not bend them to suit your sense of right and wrong.”

  Niall returned Duncan’s glare. “You expect me to arrest a man simply for asking a bonnie lass to have dinner with him?”

  “You will if he’s thirty and she’s sixteen.”

  Niall looked at Titus. “Another thing I find confounding in this century is how young men and women are treated like children long into their teens, their parents coddling them and making excuses for why they’re roaming the streets at all hours of the day and night instead of working. Just last week I stopped to help a woman I saw dragging large bins of trash out to the road, only to discover she had a teenage son sitting in the car waiting to be driven to school.”

  “Blame the mother,” Mac interjected. “Children are what they’ve been taught.”

  “I was tempted to teach that particular boy a lesson on respecting his mum.”

  “Thank you,” Titus said when Vanetta brought their two missing breakfasts.

  Only instead of leaving, the restaurant owner eyed Niall, then suddenly grabbed a chair from a nearby table, sat down with them, and looked at Duncan. “Peg mentioned you were bringing back one of your cousins from Pine Creek to be our chief of police. Would that be you?” she asked, looking at Niall and then thrusting out her hand when he nodded. “Vanetta Quintana—I mean Thurber,” she corrected with a laugh. “I’m still getting used to being married.”

  “Niall MacKeage,” the highlander said, shaking her hand.

  “So, Niall, where do you plan to live?” She looked at Duncan again. “Because if he stays with you across the fiord, it’ll take him just as long to respond to a call as it does the sheriff. And finding a rental anywhere near town is all but impossible.”

  Duncan leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. “Are ye wanting to rent him a room upstairs, Netta, to get yourself a little added security for your bar and restaurant?”

  Vanetta straightened in surprise. “Hey, I like that idea. Maybe I will remodel the upstairs for one of our new deputies.” She shook her head. “But that’s not what I had in mind for Niall here,” she said, giving him a warm smile before looking at Duncan again. “I don’t know if Peg told you, but I’ve donated my house for the women’s crisis shelter. It’s less than a mile down the road Rana lives on, and there happens to be a bunkhouse on the property that could easily be turned into an apartment for our new chief of police.”

  Titus filled his mouth with a forkful of egg to hide his grin. He’d thought Olivia’s father, Sam Waters, had been an idiot to let Vanetta get away, and here was another example of why. The sharp restaurant and bar owner definitely wanted a little extra security, but for the women’s shelter rather than her businesses.

  “Talk is you were planning to put an apartment over the police station,” Vanetta continued before Duncan could respond. “Only now the councilmen have decided we need a new municipal building to house a full-time fire station as well as the town offices and police station. But at the speed they
operate, it’ll take them a month of Sundays just to buy that land beside the post office they’ve been eyeing, and nearly a year to get the place built.” She stood up, pushed her chair back to the nearby table, and looked at Niall. “Not only would you be living right on the shore of Bottomless if you take my offer, you’d also be within rock-throwing distance of a house full of women who probably bake better pies than I do. I bet they wouldn’t mind earning a few bucks taking in laundry and doing some housekeeping, either.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a ruckus in the kitchen, then looked at Duncan again. “Will you think about it?”

  Duncan nodded. “Is the bunkhouse unlocked, so we can go take a look?”

  “Yes. Everest should be there moving the last of my stuff,” she said as she started backing away. “And I already told him you’d be stopping by today,” she added, shooting a smug smile over her shoulder as she rushed off.

  “What is a women’s crisis shelter?” Niall asked.

  “It’s a safe house for women who have left their abusive husbands or boyfriends,” Duncan explained.

  “It’s settled then,” Niall quietly growled, stabbing his omelet. “I’ll take the rental.”

  And that, Titus decided with a smug smile of his own, was exactly why he’d invited the powerful warrior to this century eighteen months ago.

  • • •

  “What happened to your hair?” Peg asked when Rana walked in the church basement and took off her coat. “Some of the ends look frizzy, like they’re burned.”

  Rana reached up and pulled the tortoiseshell clip from the remains of her bun, then blindly started arranging her hair into a twist while making sure to fold under the singed ends. “I had my first metalwork lesson yesterday,” she murmured around the clip in her mouth. She clamped the clip over a new bun that she hoped looked better than it felt, then tugged down her fleece. “They apparently call it a cutting torch for a reason. And if you think my hair looks bad, you should see what’s left of my jacket.”

  “But Zachary Latimer knows better than to let you near welding equipment wearing anything flammable,” Peg said. “Surely there was some of Pops’ old gear hanging around that you could have put on.”

  Rana smoothed down her fleece when she felt her cheeks heating up. “It appears Averill Latimer was a small, wiry man, and his welding jacket wouldn’t button across my bosom. I assured Zack that my jacket was cotton, but apparently the waterproof coating is highly flammable.” She looked up with a sheepish shrug. “We didn’t immediately notice when some sparks caught my sleeve on fire, as we were both wearing protective masks with very dark glass. Zack threw a bucket of muddy water on me, then spent the next ten minutes apologizing as he made me a list of protective gear, which he said I’ll have to purchase before he’ll give me another lesson.”

  Peg’s laughing gaze dropped to Rana’s size D bosom, then lifted to her hair again. “I could trim the singed ends if you want, or drive you up to Nova Mare to the resort salon.”

  “She might as well get it all chopped off,” Maude said as she walked over, a distinct sparkle in her eyes, “if she’s going to insist on playing with torches.”

  “One of the items on Zack’s list was a welder’s cap,” Rana explained as she protectively touched her hair. “And a leather coat, gauntleted leather gloves, chaps, and . . . It’s a very long list.”

  Maude tapped the notebook she was holding tucked against her size B bosom. “I bet it’s not nearly as long as my list.” She glanced around the drab basement, then blew out a sigh. “I hope you thought to grab a satchel of money when you ran away from home. I want to start seeing women the moment Roger arrives, which gives us one week to have this place turned into a clinic.”

  “You’re not even going to give the man a couple of days to settle in?” Peg asked.

  Maude smiled tightly. “Since I am now officially licensed to practice midwifery in the state of Maine, it appears I can’t even talk to patients unless we have a doctor in residence.” She looked at Rana. “I’ve already been approached by several women who heard we’re opening a birthing clinic, and I’ve told them to be here bright and early one week from tomorrow.”

  “Did Olivia deliver on her promise to find you some administrative help?”

  Maude’s smile turned genuine. “Your daughter-in-law said, and I quote, ‘You owe me big-time for this,’ because she offered us Inglenook’s activities director. And if my interview yesterday was any indication, what Gloria Smith lacks in medical knowledge she makes up for in enthusiasm and organizational skills.” Maude shook her head. “I felt comfortable going to Inglenook to meet Gloria because the resort hasn’t opened yet, but I nearly turned around and walked out when I saw the activities center she’d created and the fully stocked equipment room. Everything was so beautiful,” Maude said in a reverent whisper, “that I wanted to sign up as a guest.”

  “I went to high school with Gloria,” Peg interjected, “and she was class president our last three years. Everyone voted for her because after our freshman class trip to a friggin’ paper mill, Gloria talked Principal Halley into letting us go to fun places, like down to Bangor to attend the symphony and to TarStone Mountain Ski Resort our senior year.” Peg gave Maude a quizzical look. “So how’d you get Gloria to give up what had to be her dream job to come work at our little clinic?”

  “Olivia had already asked Gloria if she might be interested, and promised that we’d match her salary and benefits. But I suspect what sealed the deal is that Miss Smith has a thing for doctors.” Maude’s eyes took on a sparkle again. “Especially if he happens to be handsome and is willing to live in the middle of nowhere.”

  “She’s got a thing for a doctor she hasn’t even met yet?” Peg said. “Heck, for all she knows, the guy could look like a troll.”

  “Well,” Maude murmured, brushing something off her notebook, “since Olivia had mentioned that Gloria was single, I might have had a picture of Roger mixed in with my interview questions, which I may have accidently dropped in Gloria’s office.”

  Peg turned widened eyes on Rana. “I want to amend what I said the other day,” she whispered, giving a barely perceptible nod in Maude’s direction. “She’s a lot scary.”

  “And I’ll stand by what I said,” Rana said, giving Peg a wink. “So where is our esteemed new clinic director?” she asked Maude.

  “Gloria is handing over the reins of the activities center to her newly promoted assistant today. She promised to be here bright and early tomorrow with her sleeves rolled up and a long list of medical suppliers.”

  Rana nodded. “Good. Have her order whatever equipment and supplies you need, tell her to hire some painters and carpenters—or steal them from Nova Mare if she can’t find any—and I will go home and search the boxes I haven’t unpacked until I find that satchel of money.”

  “I’m late,” Olivia called out as she rushed through the door while juggling a bulging tote, an equally heavy purse, and her sobbing daughter. She came to a stop, looked at Peg, then looked around the basement before looking at Peg again. “Where’s Charlie?”

  “Mom and Aunt Bea took him for the day.”

  “Seriously?” Olivia said on a groan, dropping her tote and purse on the floor and bouncing her daughter in her arms. “I was hoping he’d be here to play with Ella.” She kicked the tote with her foot. “I brought toys and snacks.”

  “What happened to your small army of babysitters?” Peg asked.

  Olivia rubbed her sniffling daughter’s back. “They’re quitting faster than Lucy can replace them, because,” she said in a heated whisper, “according to Lucy, everyone is suddenly afraid Ella will go missing on their watch.”

  “Oh, come on,” Peg scoffed. “She’s three. How fast can the kid run?”

  Olivia shook her head. “I don’t know how she’s doing it, but two days in a row she’s somehow managed to slip into the secret tunnels. Yesterday when the babysitter couldn’t find her and called Lucy in a panic, and Lucy ran t
o me in a panic, I ended up having to send Nicholas after her. And when he finally caught up with the little imp, she was almost down to the fiord.” Olivia looked at Rana, her pale complexion accenting the fear in her eyes. “Do you think . . . did Mac and Carolina show signs of . . .” She protectively pressed her daughter to her shoulder, holding her hand over Ella’s exposed ear. “Please tell me she can’t work the magic already.”

  “Not in any meaningful or dangerous way,” Rana said with a laugh, stepping forward and taking Ella, who immediately buried her sniveling nose in Rana’s neck. “But she likely can sense her father’s energy glowing in the tunnels and simply went searching for him.”

  “Ohmigod,” Peg said behind her raised hands. “Is Charlie going to be able to work the magic?”

  “I have no idea how it manifests in the MacKeages,” Rana said. “Ladies,” she continued brightly, giving them what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “you’re both experienced mothers whose babies will get into typical childhood trouble.”

  “But Winter and Matt Gregor’s daughter started traveling through time at six months old,” Peg said, now clutching her throat. “And Duncan told me their grandson, Talking Tom, visited them as an old man before he was even born.”

  “Fiona is the child of two very powerful drùidhs, Peg.” Rana smiled at Olivia to include her. “Like me, you are both mortal women who happen to be married to magic-makers, so your children won’t develop any real power until they reach puberty.”

  “But that’s even worse,” Peg said on a gasp. “Raging hormones and the magic!”

  “Then I suggest when they hit their teens that you hand them to their fathers to finish raising,” Rana said as she transferred Ella to Maude. She looked at Olivia while she put on her coat. “I’m not afraid of losing the cherub, so I can watch her today. The men brought me one of your resort carts, so we won’t have to walk home. Thank you for that idea, Peg.” She then turned her smile on her skeptical-looking daughter-in-law. “After Ella and I pick up a few things at the Trading Post, we’ll go home and bake cookies.”