Spellbound Falls (12 page)

Her jaw dropped in—was he
serious
?

He used his finger to gently close her mouth. “Ah, Olivia; the men in this town are idiots. It’s not your dead husband they should be afraid of, but you.”

This time Olivia managed to close her gaping mouth before he closed it for her. “What in hell are you talking about?”

“While you were in the store this morning, your daughter told us that Eileen said the men in Spellbound Falls wouldn’t ask you to dance at the Christmas party because they’re afraid they won’t measure up to your deceased husband.” He took hold of her hand, which she only now realized was grasping his jacket instead of poking it, and pressed her fingers between his warm palms. “Except that Simon Maher doesn’t seem to realize what a shrine you’ve become to the good people in town.”

“Excuse me?” she whispered. “They think I’m a
shrine
to the dead bastard?”

Olivia slapped her free hand over her mouth, craning around to look for Sophie. Seeing her bent over one of the fishing holes with Henry a good fifty yards away, she turned back with a scowl and tried to tug free.

Of course he didn’t let her go, because she wasn’t holding a baseball bat.

Maybe she needed to get one of those taser-thingies instead.

Because judging by Mac’s very stillness, Olivia knew he’d caught her mistake, and this time she didn’t have any trouble reading that look in his deep green eyes.

Mac sat on the crystallized snow with his back against the shanty and his eyes closed against the sun, and decided he liked picnics. He’d never given much thought to dining outdoors in early spring, but he was finding it to be a rather pleasant experience—though that might have had more to do with his picnic companions than the time of year.

The location was equally unique. If just three short months ago someone had suggested he’d be basking in the sun on a frozen freshwater lake, with a beautiful woman and her daughter as well as a son of his own, Mac would have thought them insane. But here he was stuffed with simply prepared food, utterly relaxed and undeniably the most content he’d been in a long, long time.

Then again, that also might have had something to do with his immediate company.

Olivia was quite easy to be with, he’d discovered, once he’d stopped baiting her long enough to let her relax and enjoy their outing. But he’d been curious to see how she’d react when confronted when she had no place to hide, and… well, he certainly hadn’t been disappointed.

In fact, he’d been caught completely off guard by the
realization that instead of pining for her dead husband, Olivia actually despised the man. The reason why was anyone’s guess; Keith Baldwin could have been a bastard for any number of reasons, from being abusive to unfaithful to indifferent toward her. Which was baffling, really, as Mac couldn’t imagine any man not treating Olivia as a prize to be cherished.

The woman was an enigma of beauty and grace and warm swirling energy just begging to engage life, yet she seemed to go out of her way to keep everyone but her daughter at a distance. She certainly had an intelligent if devious mind, he’d found out when she’d put him to work replanking the docks in hopes that he’d rescind his offer to help, and she definitely wasn’t afraid to come out swinging—or chest-poking—when backed into a corner.

Mac cracked open his eyes to see her relaxing on the ice a good thirty feet away, reclined against a mound of snow she’d formed on a slant to catch the low-hanging sun. The woman also had a sharp sense of humor, which he’d caught a glimpse of when he’d invited her to sit beside him after she’d finished repacking the picnic basket. Looking him right in the eye while pointing off to her left, she’d said her
gut
was telling her she’d be more comfortable over there, then gracefully sauntered away, dropped to her knees, and started shaping the snow into a bed.

The lady should be thanking the gods they had an audience, as he’d been tempted to jump up and kiss that little smirk right off her face, and not stop until she melted into him. Or rather, into his jacket—the one he’d felt her
accidentally
brush her cheek against several times this afternoon in the close confines of the shanty, just before she would turn away with a soft sigh. The same jacket that now carried more of her scent than it possibly could have taken on in the brief time she’d worn it the day of her attack.

Oh yeah; Olivia was attracted to him, only the poor woman didn’t seem to know what to do about it. But Mac supposed being a shrine for four years could get a person
out of practice. And for that, the local men’s loss was going to be his gain—at least for the next six months.

Mac sat forward just as Henry dropped down beside him with a groan. “Can you tell the fish to stop biting?” the boy whispered, pulling off his hat and wiping his sweaty brow. “Sophie and I just get a hook baited and reset the trap, and another flag goes up. And you drilled the holes so far from each other that we’re spending more time running after flags than flying our kite.”

“There’s not really enough breeze anymore, is there?”

“Well, no. But ice fishing is a lot more work than flying a kite, so I thought you could ask the wind to come back up and the fish to stop being so greedy.”

“Sorry, son; you’re on your own on both counts,” Mac said with a chuckle.

They both looked over to see Sophie flop down to cuddle up against her mother, and Henry released another heavy sigh. “How much longer is this picnic going to last?” he asked softly. “Because I’ve been thinking we could skip dinner and go find that clearing as soon as we get back to Inglenook. I’m still full from lunch, and if we get hungry you can just teach me what’s safe to eat in the forest like you did at the ocean.”

Mac leaned against the shanty again, pulling Henry with him. “Unlike tidal pools, the forest plants are dormant right now or buried under what’s left of the snow.”

“I saw fish in the brook while we were waiting for Sophie’s school bus. If we found another brook on our hike, we could catch some and build a fire and cook them.” Henry let out a yawn and relaxed into Mac’s chest. “I’m glad we came here. I like that there’s not as many people in Spellbound Falls as there are in Midnight Bay, even though I do miss Mr. Trace and Miss Fiona and Misneach.”

Mac stifled a chuckle. Midnight Bay had a population of all of a thousand people, whereas Spellbound Falls had maybe three hundred residents this time of year. Not exactly metropolises, either one of them.

Henry tilted his head back to grin up at him. “But I don’t miss your cooking,” he said, covering his giggle with his gloved hand. “Miss Olivia and Miss Eileen don’t burn everything.” His eyes suddenly turned apprehensive. “Um, I asked Mama last night if it was okay to address adults by their first names like Miss Eileen said I should, but this morning my heart told me that it’s just not right. So I decided to use
Miss
or
Mr.
in front of their names, just like I do with everyone in Midnight Bay. Do you think Miss Eileen will mind very much? Even if I tell her my
mama
said I should?”

“Ah, Henry,” Mac said, pulling him back to his chest with a deep sigh. “You go right ahead and do what your heart’s telling you to, son, and Eileen will just have to respect your decision.” He rubbed his thumb along Henry’s hairline. “Did you also ask if we need to buy you pajamas?”

Henry nodded without lifting his head. “Mama said that if I’m old enough for sword lessons, then I’m too old to be wearing pajamas like a baby.”

Mac gave a quiet chuckle. “Delia is obviously proud of the man you’re becoming, Henry. Why don’t you have a quick nap with me here in the warm sun,” he suggested when the boy yawned again. “And we can skip dinner tonight if you wish.”

“But I have to keep watching for flags.”

“I believe the fish are about to take a nap, too. So close your eyes, little man, and rebuild your strength for tonight. Though it might be sized for your hand, in the morning I believe your muscles are going to let you know your sword’s no toy.”

But instead of closing his own eyes, Mac allowed his gaze to wander over the scene before him; the five ice-fishing traps—flags obediently down—and Henry’s kite half buried in the snow to keep it from blowing away. The ice auger he’d used to drill the holes lay next to the two empty and four full bottles of beer sitting in the carton Olivia had handed him when they’d first arrived, which was sitting next to the sled they’d used to haul everything out to the shanty. And Olivia
with her daughter sleeping in her arms, both their cheeks kissed pink by the sun over the last few hours, and himself with his own child tucked securely against his heart.

To a neutral observer they could be any family out enjoying a beautiful early spring afternoon on one of Maine’s more massive lakes.

The very idea stirred something deep inside Mac; a powerful sensation he innately knew was as ancient as the earth itself suddenly making his world shift slightly off center. The word
home
whispered around him on the dying breeze, drawing his gaze to the heavily forested mountains surrounding the lake, their rolling peaks lined up like sentinels charged with keeping the maddening world at bay.

And Mac understood why Olivia had stayed in Spellbound Falls.

He tried to wrap his mind around his contentment, as
home
for him was the ocean, the very womb that had given him life and now sustained it. And still he’d traveled inland for Henry’s sake, two hundred miles away from the very essence that pulsed through his veins like blood.

Yet the awareness stirring deep inside him, the whispered litany on the breeze, the expansive lake and towering mountains, the familial scene—all of it triggering something deep inside him that he couldn’t describe but desperately wanted to deny. A new and powerful yearning that suddenly scared him far more than having a son did.

“Can I take Henry to go see the falls, Mom?” Sophie asked as Olivia started to open her truck door. But before she could answer, her daughter addressed Mac. “I promise we’ll stay on the bridge and I’ll hold his hand.”

“Or all three of you could go see the falls,” Olivia suggest as she climbed out, “while I go in and return the shanty key to Ezra.”

Mac opened his door and also got out. “Or we could all return the key and then all go see the falls,” he said over the hood of his truck, dropping one of his provocative smiles
on her like a loaded hand grenade. “That way we won’t have to drag you out of some dark corner of the store again.”

“Yes, I do believe Dad and I should go with you, Miss Olivia,” Henry said before she could think of a snappy comeback. Only the boy’s smile was more compassionate than challenging. “I could even hold your hand if you’d like.”

Good Lord, did the child think she needed protecting?

Granted, their first meeting hadn’t been under the best of circumstances, but it did seem to have left him with the impression that she was a damsel in distress. Especially since Sophie had ingenuously announced in the truck this morning that her mother had needed to be rescued from Simon.

“That’s very chivalrous of you, Henry, but I think I can return the key without getting into any trouble. And besides, Ezra’s pretty good at keeping a lookout for me.” She checked for vehicles and started across the road without making eye contact with Mac, not wanting to see his amusement.

“My mama taught me that chivalry is the foundation of a civilized society,” Henry said, catching up and reaching for her hand.

Olivia let him grasp it with a silent sigh; apparently the son had no more intention of taking no for an answer than his father did. “You have a very wise mama, Henry.”

“I told her I was going to be a powerful knight when I grew up,” the boy continued. “But now I guess I’m going to be a theurgist instead.”

Olivia stopped in front of the trading post as Sophie and Mac crossed the road and stopped beside them. “Um… what’s a theurgist?”