by Karen Rigley
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.
<
br /> “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.”
Chapter 14
Horrified that Toby had taken Grant’s Cupid heirloom and put it afloat in the toy boat, Jami dashed after him. If the tiny boat capsized, the gold brooch could be lost forever in Frost Lake! Determination accompanied by adrenalin surged through her—she would rescue Cupid and right her son’s wrong.
Two tiny white butterflies dipped and flitted out of the way as Jami reached the lake just behind Toby. At the edge of the water, tears rolling down his freckled face, Toby confessed that he’d taken the Cupid out of Grant’s drawer to use as a captain for his boat.
“I’m sorry,” Toby sniffed, swiping his face on his arm. “I know I shouldn’t take things without asking, but I needed a captain!”
“Where’s your boat?” Jami asked, her stomach plummeting as she scanned the lake, not seeing the handcrafted toy vessel anywhere on the water.
“This way.” Toby took off running along the edge of the shallows down the shore toward the deep sapphire swirling water.
“That’s the off-limits area Grant warned us about,” Jami gasped, frightened that her son had been so close to danger. Ten minutes of a child’s disappearance could mark the difference between life and death, so she felt very blessed that her son was now in her sight, healthy and whole. She offered a silent prayer of thanks for Toby’s safety.
The shoreline grew rough; trees and bushes replaced the sandy beach, with rocks and boulders marring the waterline. Jami stumbled after Toby, grabbing him as he slowed to point at the toy boat that bobbed on the blue lake waters.
“There, Mom. See it?”
“Yes, honey.” Spotting the white hanky sail on the tiny pine boat, she hugged Toby close. “You stay here while I go after it. I can’t watch you and your boat at the same time. Okay?”
“It’s my fault. I want to help get Grant’s little man back.”
Jami pressed a kiss on the child’s hot, damp forehead. “You’re my little man, my only little man. If you want me to get your boat, I can’t be worrying about you getting too deep in the water. Stay here.”
“But, Mom...” Toby protested, his brown eyes pleading.
“No buts.” Jami gazed down at him, making her voice stern and not allowing her apprehension to bleed through. “Stay. That’s an order.”
“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed, rubbing away tears with his fists. “Please try to save the captain, and I promise I’ll be really good.”
Caught in the current, the tiny craft bobbed bravely, spinning this way and that way toward the swirling current, floating farther away from Jami and closer to the sapphire whirlpool. Determined to rectify her son’s mistake and retrieve Grant’s heirloom, Jami didn’t bother to take off her already wet sneakers as she splashed through the shallows.
As soon as the water was deep enough, she glided out, swimming toward the whirling sapphire depths. At first the lake current resisted, buoying and teasing her strokes, but as she neared the boat, she felt the frightening tug of the spinning waters. Shutting out the threat of peril, she focused on the toy’s location each time she took a breath. Thankfully, the boat had not capsiz
ed.
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Toby wading into the shallows. Her movement was momentarily arrested with one arm churning air, the other dipping into water. Should she turn around? Would Toby go too deep?
Just as she began to twirl around and swim back to keep her son out of trouble, Grant crashed out of the woods. Relief flooded Jami, along with a fresh surge of resolve. Grant would keep Toby safe. She had to recover the charm.
“Toby!” Grant called, bursting out of the woods onto the lakeshore.
“Grant?” Toby hollered back.
“What are you doing?” Grant asked in exasperation as he found the six-year-old splashing through the shallows. “Everyone’s searching for you.”
“We gotta get my boat.” The child kept plowing through the water, the lake now up to the pockets of his sodden jeans.
“Get back here.”
“I can’t.” Toby marched deeper, not turning back to Grant.
Grant swore, wading into the water to make his way toward the stubborn child. Toby slipped and came up sputtering. “I’m stuck! Help!” The child went down again.
Heart in his throat, Grant sloshed through the water to grab Toby, who had tangled with driftwood and started to sink. The boy came up choking, water streaming off of the youngster’s head and shoulders.
“Can you breathe? Are you hurt?” He boosted the child up into his arms, water squirting between them.
“I’m okay.” Toby shook his head, his small arms and legs clinging to Grant. “That water tastes yucky.”
“You are okay,” Grant said with a relieved chuckle. “I’m planting you back onshore, and you’d better stay put, slugger.”
“But I have to help Mom save my boat.”
“She’s here?” Grant plopped Toby onto dry ground. “Where?”
“There.” The boy pointed toward the churning, swirling dark blue region of Frost Lake.
