That Carrington Magic

chapter 13



Grant let Jami steer the motorboat on the way back across the lake. She enjoyed the freedom as the craft cut through the water, wind blowing her hair, and lake spray misting her face. Punctuating the clear azure sky, a few wispy white clouds snagged on a neighboring mountain peak. The day was warming quickly, sunshine penetrating the thin alpine air to cast the Rockies in bright golden haze and shoot the lake with endless points of light. Jami circled close to the shore, midway between the docking area and the spot where Grant had carved Toby’s toy boat.

“Not there.” Grant’s large warm hand covered Jami’s hand on the wheel, then he turned the rudder to guide them away from the swirling deep blue water she had headed toward.

“Why not?”

“There’s a deadly undertow, fed by an underground stream which causes a whirlpool effect. It’s dangerous.”

“The water is choppy and darker. Nearly sapphire.” Jami studied the lake surface, watching the waves and water patterns. “I can see the currents swirl!”

“That’s why I’ve never taken you and Toby to that section of the lake. It’s smarter to skirt the area. We make it a habit to avoid the whirlpool.” He slowed, guiding the boat to the dock. “According to local legend, it’s where a lake monster dwells.”

“A monster?” Toby’s big brown eyes grew rounder as he helped Grant unfurl the rope. “Cool! Can we go see it?”

“Aren’t you scared of monsters?” Grant asked with a cocked brow, as he tied the motorboat securely to the dock.

“Not lake monsters or space monsters. They’re cool.”

“There are no such things as monsters,” Jami intervened, allowing Grant to help her out of the rocking boat and onto the wooden planks of the dock.

“Grizzly bears are sort of monsters,” Toby replied, glancing off into the woods. “We didn’t see any bears when we were camping. How come?”

“Guess the bears were busy,” Grant answered, handing items out of the boat to Toby and Jami, who then piled the camping gear onto the dock.

Between the three of them, they hauled everything back to the lodge with Jami feeling grungy and longing for a shower. Still, one glance at Toby, and she knew her rambunctious dirt devil needed to be cleaned up first. The moment they entered their room, she filled the tub with warm water, adding a squirt of Toby’s Bad Bear Bubble Bath to foam into fun, dirt-cleansing suds. Remembering his bubble mania, she immediately put the bubblebath bottle out of reach. Humming, she scrubbed him with soap and a washcloth, then left him to play with his boat in the tub, the bathroom door open while she rounded up their clean clothes.

Suddenly, Grant bellowed, “Not again!”

Jami dashed into the outer suite to find Grant standing ramrod straight as he scowled down at his open palm. In his hand he cradled the golden Cupid key, but she couldn’t guess why he was swearing at his grandmother’s jewelry.

“Grant? Is something wrong?” she ventured, moving closer.

Startled by Jami’s presence, he swiftly closed his hand over the brooch. As if in protest, Cupid stabbed his palm, shooting a stinging pain into his flesh. “Yow!” He reopened his hand, glaring accusingly at the offending pin.

“You’d think it was alive and bit you on purpose,” Jami teased.

Grant was thankful that he wasn’t afflicted with Jami’s tendency to blush. Or he’d be scarlet at the moment. It was bad enough talking to Cupid—but to be caught in the act—and by Jami! He cleared his throat, tried nonchalantly to replace the Cupid key in the drawer, and slide the drawer shut, before turning to face her. “I, ah, stabbed myself on the pin.”

“Why were you yelling?”

“Yelling?” Grant gazed at her, hoping his face appeared as blank as his mind felt. Just how did he explain Cupid? He couldn’t tell her about the love spell theory his grandmother had sworn to be true. Or that the charm escaped a sealed envelope three times.

“You said not again,” she reminded him, tapping her foot impatiently.

“I did?” Grant saw the conflicting emotions ripple over Jami’s beautiful face and decided he needed a major distraction, before she grilled him. Too bad his brain had stalled. “That’s right I did, but it was nothing important.”

“Then why did you yell?”

Grant thought rapidly. “I, ah, stubbed my toe on the cabinet.”

“That doesn’t explain your grandmother’s brooch.” She folded her arms across her chest, obviously unaware that dirt streaked down her cheek and a twig dangled from her wild copper-red hair. Jami stared hard at him.

“Ah, I bumped into the cabinet and jarred the drawer open and that’s where the Cupid pin was.” She must think he was crazy. “I checked to make sure the brooch hadn’t gotten scratched.”

“Bumped the cabinet? I thought you stubbed your toe?” Jami pressed her lips together, shaking her head, making her tangled copper tresses bob with the attached twig waving in accompaniment.

“Right. I stubbed my toe when I bumped into the cabinet.” He didn’t do this lying thing well. His ran a finger around the collar of his sweatshirt. “We’d better get cleaned up now.”

“I’m waiting for Toby to get out of the tub.”

“You can use my shower,” Grant offered, glad she finally seemed satisfied with his explanation.

“No, thank you.” Jami smiled at him, aglow with breathtaking beauty despite her disheveled state. She pushed a lock of hair off her face, just missing the twig. “Toby should be out any minute now.”

“Jami,” Grant groaned, propelling toward her as if magnetized. He touched her cheek, warm smooth satin under his fingertips. “We have things to discuss.”

“We do?” She gazed up at him with those exotic topaz eyes, her moist, rosy lips slightly parted.

“Definitely.” Moved by a force as old as time itself and just as powerful, Grant took Jami into his arms and kissed her. She belonged in his embrace, held tight against his heart. Without her, he was no longer complete.

“Mom, where are my clothes?” Toby hollered from the doorway.

Jami and Grant sprang apart, but not before Toby witnessed their embrace. Dripping and clad in his cartoon underwear, the boy glared at them, focusing his anger on him. “Leave my mom alone!”

“Toby!” Jami gasped, her face blanching.

“Slugger, I promise everything will be okay,” Grant soothed, trying to defuse the situation.

“Don’t call me slugger.” Tears rolled down Toby’s flushed, freckled face as he spun around to run back into the bedroom, hollering over his shoulder, “You don’t keep promises. You never made me a captain for my boat!”

Jami lunged away to chase after her son, but Grant grabbed her arm. “He’ll be okay. Toby will get used to us being together.”

“Are we together?” she asked softly.

“We ought to be,” Grant replied, planting a quick, hard kiss on her lips before releasing her.

“Some place private?” Jami whispered, her fringe-lashed, sparkling amber eyes searching Grant’s face.

“Very private,” he replied, stealing one more kiss.

Jami disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Waiting a moment, Grant slipped open the drawer and picked up Cupid. If a magic spell brought Jami into his arms, then he owed Cupid a great debt. Smiling down at the golden cherub held in his palm, he murmured, “Thanks, buddy.”

His smile broadened. He fantasized about making love to the bewitching redhead who had stolen his heart far more efficiently than he’d stolen her sweet kisses. Cupid couldn’t blame him for wanting to romance the lady. Right?

After her bath, Jami was just coming out of the bathroom wrapped in her pink robe, when she heard her son open their bedroom door to grumpily holler, “Grant, telephone. It’s a lady.”

Toby left the door partially open, hopping back up onto the quilt-topped double bed with a comic book. Curious about Grant’s phone call, Jami also left the door ajar, listening, despite herself.

“Well, hello!” Grant greeted the anonymous woman, the warmth in his voice a kick to Jami’s gut. “How’s my favorite girl?”

Unable to prevent the tension knotting through her, Jami was assailed by flashbacks of midnight phone calls her ex-husband had claimed to be business and wordless hang-ups when she had answered before Doug could. She hated the old feelings of hurt and betrayal resurfacing within her, but she couldn’t stop them.

“Have you been behaving yourself?” she heard Grant drawl.

Just when she’d allowed herself to trust Grant, Jami thought, shaking her head as she monitored his conversation through the open doorway.

He chuckled into the phone. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve had time to miss me or anyone else.”

Lips pursed, Jami crossed to the massive pine dresser and pretended to brush her still damp hair, aware of every word as Grant barked, “What are you talking about? I did not promise you a wedding!”

It was worse than she’d feared! Jami felt sick, color draining from her face as she stared at her hollow-eyed reflection. Not only was Grant Carrington a womanizer—he’d practically dumped some poor girl at the altar! Jami squeezed her eyes shut in despair, the rest of his telephone conversation blurring as her head whirled with the realization of her folly. She pushed the door shut in desperation.

She knew better than to trust her heart to such a man. How could she be so foolish a second time?



Grant slammed the phone down, thoroughly annoyed at his mother. He didn’t mind her tracking him down here at the lodge. That hadn’t surprised him. Shirley Carrington kept close tabs on all of her sons, no matter that they were long grown to adulthood. She always knew where Grant and his brothers were and what they were doing, though they couldn’t say the same about their mother’s constant round of activity. Normally he adored Shirley and treated her flighty ways with amused indulgence. But this!

The moment he heard that lilting cultured voice, he’d steeled himself for one of Mother’s famous off-the-wall requests. He hadn’t been prepared for her question. Grant raked his fingers through his hair and paced through the suite to stare out the window at the mountains peaks beyond. His mother had chirpily explained that Ty had told her they’d sent him Cupid and promised her immediate results. She said Ty had assured her that Grant and Jami had probably already set a wedding date.

Shirley actually asked Grant when the wedding was! Of course, his mother didn’t have a shy bone in her body and felt her son’s business was her own.

Grant wasted no time informing his mother that he had never promised her a wedding. Thinking of marrying anyone rocked Grant right down through his Houston veneer to his West Texas roots.

It was just like his mother to plan his wedding when Grant had no intention of marrying. He shook his head in frustration, rubbing his jaw with one hand and raking his hair with the other. He felt pretty sure Jami didn’t want to marry again, anyway. Certainly, she had no desire to marry him.

He ought to call his mother back and apologize for losing his temper. But if he did, she’d wheedle it out of him that he’d overreacted because he was attracted to Jami. He felt guilty enough. Then Shirley would probably show up at the lodge to match-make. Time was running out. The vacation was nearly over, and Grant didn’t need Mother Carrington arriving to complicate matters.

He thought about knocking on the bedroom door and asking Jami if she and Toby wanted to go down to lunch with him. But considering that scene with Toby, Grant decided it might be prudent to wait. After staring at the closed door a moment longer, he went downstairs to lunch alone.

Raven McGuire pounced on him the moment he entered the dining room. “Well, Mr. Carrington, you finally decided to join us for a meal,” she remarked, fluttering her artificially-lashed violet eyes as she patted the chair beside her.

Not wanting to offend her anymore than he had the other night when she’d approached him in the garden, Grant took the seat. He greeted the professor and Dottie and Doris, hoping that Jami and Toby would appear soon. He paid no attention to the table chitchat, watching the doorway for Jami.

Becca was dishing out her scrumptious chicken dumplings when Jami appeared and sat at the far end of the table with Toby to her left.

Grant tried to catch her eye, but Jami ignored him, refusing to even glance his way. Now what?

“Grant, Raven has a date tonight,” Dottie volunteered, smearing her dumplings into the gravy and mashing chicken chunks into the mixture.

“With Big Jake West, the ski resort owner,” Doris added, neatly detaching the edge of one of her dumplings to separate it from a chunk of chicken. Today the sisters wore identical Hawaiian shirts and shorts, with red knee socks and hiking boots. They reminded Grant of colorful parrots—and often their babbling made as much sense as a parrot.

“That’s nice,” he replied noncommittally.

“West is taking me to dinner at his chalet. Some men appreciate a good woman when they see one,” Raven sniffed, her scarlet mouth pressed into a thin line and regal nose elevated as her lacquered nails flashed through the air.

“Good woman?” Professor Tolaski smirked, choking into his napkin.

The sisters exchanged amused glances as Jami and Toby ignored the entire conversation. Grant chewed a tender tasty spoonful of his chicken dumplings, the flavor fading as he wondered why Jami appeared so distracted. Had she argued with her son about the kiss? Toby bounced on his chair, eating his meal in hungry attack mode and appearing in normal spirits.

Grant studied Jami’s lovely angel face as she kept her eyes downcast. She drooped like a wilted rose. That, and the fact that she totally refused to face him, worried him. Had he done something wrong? He mentally examined their parting words, unable to fathom her altered attitude. Grant felt as if he were adrift upon strange seas at the mercy of an unexpected storm.

Jami made it through lunch, hating to share the table with Grant. She’d just grabbed Toby and was about to escape the dining room, when Becca touched her arm. “Jami, is it still okay if we have Toby shuck the corn? I plan to serve corn-on-the-cob tonight.”

“Yes. He’ll be glad to help in any way he’s needed.” Jami offered an encouraging smile to her son. “Won’t you, Toby?”

“Sure,” the child answered, gravy smeared on his chin. “Is it hard to shuck corn? I never heard of a shuck before.”

“I guess you could think of it as peeling the corn. First you pull the leaves off and then rub off the corn silk...” Becca explained, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she grinned down at the boy.

“Silk? Like Mom’s don’t touch dress?” Toby demanded, obviously not-too-pleased at the image.

“It’s more like hair,” Becca replied, sounding a bit flustered.

“Corn is hairy?” Toby cried, a horrified expression on his freckled face.

“Tell you what, kiddo,” Becca said, amusement crinkling her blue eyes, though she kept a straight face. “I’ll show you exactly how to shuck corn in about two hours, and I’m sure I can answer all your questions, then. Okay?”

“Fine,” Jami answered for her son, before steering him out of the dining room by his shoulders. As they climbed the stairway together, she saw him yawn. Why not? She was tired, too. She didn’t think any of them had gotten much sleep camping out last night. “I think we could both use some quiet time, right now.”

“Can I read my comic book?” Toby asked, skipping ahead as if to prove that he wasn’t tired.

“If you want.”

Inside their bedroom, she made Toby take off his shoes before he plopped onto his side of the bed with his book. Jami kicked off her own sandals and stretched out on the opposite side of the bed. She closed her eyes, willing herself to think of anything but Grant.

Jami awoke with a start to find the door open and Toby not in their room. She checked the bathroom and then hesitantly entered Grant’s territory. She found Toby sitting in a leather recliner, remote control in hand and watching cartoons on the big screen television.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, hands on hips, while her gaze flicked to the door and back in case Grant returned.

“Grant told me I could watch his TV as long as I kept quiet and promised not to wake you.”

“He knew I was asleep?” Jami asked, feeling a strange combination of embarrassment and resentment.

“Yeah. Grant came to talk to you, but when he saw you taking your nap,” Toby explained, not taking his eyes off the cartoon, “He said we had to be real careful not to disturb your beauty sleep and sent me in here.”

“Great,” Jami muttered, raking both her hands through her hair, feeling it peak into twin horns poking up over her ears before smoothing it again. “It’s nearly time for you to help Becca, so please turn off the TV and get ready.”

Toby pointed at the old-fashioned clock. “Because I have to report for KP duty at three o’clock, right? That’s in ten minutes,” he proudly added.

“How do you know?” Jami asked in surprise. “There aren’t any numbers on that clock face.”

“Grant taught me where the numbers belong and how to read them in my head.” Her son beamed at her, his freckled face split with a wide grin.

“Great,” Jami muttered again, pleased that Toby had learned to read the time properly, but upset that it was Grant who taught him.

She sighed. Today was day six of their weeklong vacation. Tomorrow she and Toby would leave Frost Lake behind. And Grant Carrington wouldn’t be teaching any other lessons to her son. Or to her.

Sending a wary glance at the now soap-less hot tub, she settled Toby on the back patio with Becca and Nell, who instructed him on the fine art of corn shucking. Jami had intended to spend this time with Grant, but now alone, she wandered along a mountain trail she hadn’t previously explored.

Skirting a rockslide, she took a broad path veering left, her mind whirling with thoughts of the one person she did not want to think about—Grant Carrington. Why couldn’t she have fallen for an old-fashioned, one-woman man? Jami kicked a clump of dirt. Still filled with restless energy, she marched down the trail. Awhile later, she found herself back at the lodge, approaching the front drive. She’d been traveling in circles, just like her life.

Well, she might as well check on her son’s progress.

Jami traipsed around the lodge and through a side gate into the garden, alive with the scents of roses, phlox, and lavender, blended with fragrant herbs, many in blossom. When she reached the patio, she found Nell dozing on the wooden swing, and the shucked corn was stacked by size in neat yellow rows in a cardboard box. Jami smiled as she noted the green leaves in one paper bag and the brown strands of corn silk in a separate bag. Hopefully, her child’s organizing streak hadn’t driven Becca crazy.

Jami went inside the lodge through the Garden Room eager to find Toby and Becca. Maybe the innkeeper had him doing additional KP duty in the kitchen.

She found Becca in the kitchen, alone.

“Where’s Toby?” Jami asked, damping a flare of panic as she remembered last time he’d disappeared.

“On the patio with Nell shucking corn,” Becca answered as she peeled and rinsed carrots at the sink. “I just checked on them ten minutes ago.”

“No,” Jami replied, her voice constricting, her throat tightening along with her chest as an unwanted premonition gripped her. “The corn’s done, and Nell’s asleep in the swing.”

Becca’s hands froze in midair. “Not again!”

“What’s going on?” Grant demanded entering the kitchen in time to witness Jami’s strangled gasp.

“Toby’s missing.”

“It’ll be okay.” Grant moved to place an arm around Jami’s shoulders. “Hey, he’s probably just in the suite.”

“I’ll check,” Becca volunteered as she dumped the carrots into the sink, turned off the water, and dried her hands. “If he isn’t, I’ll have Homer help me search the lodge.” She glanced apologetically at Jami. “That tyke’s probably just getting into a bit of innocent mischief. Unless he’s napping in your room.”

“I’ll check outside,” Jami whispered, trying to pull herself together. Ten minutes wasn’t very long. Toby must be close by—maybe playing with the frogs at the spring?

“I’ll check the woods,” Grant volunteered, dropping a reassuring kiss on Jami’s forehead as she glanced up at him in alarm.

“The woods? Toby can’t be in the woods!”

“I doubt he is. It’s just a precaution.” Grant hugged Jami tight, then released her. “Don’t worry, Red, we’ll find him.”

Doris bopped into the kitchen like a plump parrot. “I heard all the voices. What’s going on?”

“Toby disappeared,” Becca answering, rushing out the doorway.

“Oh, dear,” Doris cried, her hand flying to her mouth. “Last time he poured soap bubbles in the hot tub.”

“Why don’t you and your sister help Jami search the grounds while I check the woods?” Grant suggested, reaching up into the cupboard and pulling out a whistle. “If you see him, blow on this. Okay?”

Jami gaped at him as Doris took the whistle.

Becca hollered down from the stairway. “Toby’s not in your room. Homer’s helping search up here, and then we’ll check downstairs.”

“My baby really is missing.” Hit by the shock of her own words, Jami felt the floor sway beneath her.

“It’ll be okay, Red.” Suddenly Grant’s strong arms wrapped around her, solid and secure.

“Toby’s only six,” Jami incoherently muttered.

“Going on sixteen. Come on,” Grant replied, pushing Jami toward the kitchen door. “We better get started.” He pressed a quick kiss on Jami’s numb lips. “Let’s go find Toby.”

“Right,” Jami murmured, having difficulty getting one foot in front of the other. She fought for control, feeling she was walking through molasses, her mind fuzzed and her mouth full of gauze. Where was her little boy? Where should she look first?

“Why don’t you take the trail to the lake?” Doris suggested kindly, patting Jami on the back. “I’ll get Dottie and the professor to help me search the grounds. Okay, young lady?”

“Yes. Thanks,” Jami stammered, possessed with fresh urgency. “I’ll stop at the spring and then go toward the lake. Maybe he’s sailing his toy boat.”

“Very good.” Doris spotted her sister and Professor Tolaski standing under the ancient cottonwood tree and staring up into the branches. “There they are!” She waved and called to Dottie.

“I must hurry,” Jami said, rushing toward the trail and away from the others.

Disappointment swamped her as she reached the spring. Jami thought for sure she would find Toby there, playing with the frogs or floating his miniature boat. The image of Toby and his boat was so strong, it was almost a taste in her mouth. Driven by instinct, she ran along the trail leading to the lake. Mindless of branches and thorns tearing at her arms, ignoring the roots and rocks she stumbled over, Jami rushed toward the lake.

Suddenly, she saw her son round a bend to fly toward her, his freckled face flushed and dirt streaked, his clothing soaked and water dripping from his hair.

“Toby!” She grabbed him, swinging him against her despite his squishy clothes. “You’re safe.”

“Mom, my boat got away. The water’s too deep, and I can’t catch it,” Toby gasped, tears swimming in his brown eyes. “You gotta help me get it. Please?”

“We can get you another boat,” she soothed, stroking his wet hair off his forehead. “Let’s go back to the lodge and get you dried off.”

“No, Mom!” Toby wrenched out of her arms to head back down the trail. “We gotta rescue my boat. Grant’s little man is my captain. He’ll drown.”

“What little man?” Jami asked, snagging her son by the arm.

“The gold one with the bow and arrow.”