Authors: Mariah Stewart
“Just go easy. I’ve already secured them with joint compound but it may still be setting up on the two side windows, so do them last.”
“All right.”
She gathered up the paper towels and the bottle of cleaner and tried to get away from Grace with only a polite exchange. But Grace being Grace, she wanted the details of Sophie’s plans for the restaurant. After promising to meet later in the week for photos and an article for Grace’s paper, Sophie moved on to her task.
Going from one window to the next, she sprayed the panes and rubbed until the glass was clear. When she finished, she picked up the discarded paper towels and tossed them into a trash can just outside the carriage house.
She turned in the doorway to look back at Jason, who was leaning over, pouring pale green paint into a tray. The gray tank top he wore stretched across the muscles of his shoulders and when he stood and raised the paintbrush, his biceps seemed to ripple. She remembered those arms and the way they’d wrapped around her, remembered how those shoulders had felt when she ran her hands over them. The bolt of heat that flashed through her weakened her knees.
Maybe things weren’t so gray after all.
His eyes on his granddaughter, Curtis stepped into the carriage house and followed her line of sight. Ah,
yes. There was Jason. Pleased by what he perceived to be a sign that things were developing nicely between them, as he’d hoped, he called to Sophie.
“There you are.” He walked toward her, leaning heavily on his cane. “How’s your project coming along?”
“It’s … I guess it’s all right.” She seemed surprised—and perhaps not particularly pleased—to see him.
“Good, good.”
“Hey, Curtis,” Jason greeted him. “You sign up to help yet?”
“I doubt anyone would want my help,” Curtis replied. “I just stopped in to see this lamp lens that I’ve been hearing about.”
Jason turned and pointed to the huge glass lens that still sat in the middle of the carriage house floor. “There it is.”
“Well, now, would you look at that? How did that work, do you suppose?” Curtis walked around the lens as if inspecting it.
Jason explained the process to him as he had explained it the weekend before.
“Fancy that.” Curtis looked directly at Sophie, hoping to pull her into the conversation. “I remember when the lighthouse stood out there, almost right on the beach. I remember when a storm back in, oh, I think it might have been ’forty-six, brought it crashing down. Heard it all the way over on Bancock Street.”
“1846?” Jason asked.
Curtis laughed and slapped him on the back good-naturedly.
“Funny guy here, right, Sophie?”
“He’s a riot, Pop.”
Curtis was beginning to pick up a tension between the two of them. Something in the way they pointedly were not looking at each other, smiling with no trace of humor or warmth. Something, Curtis decided, was not right.
He chatted with them for a few more minutes, and failing at his attempts to include both of them in the same conversation, excused himself to chat with Grace, all the while watching his granddaughter and Jason work around each other.
This simply would not do.
Disturbed, Curtis said his goodbyes, kissing Sophie and reminding Jason that he was to stop over later that afternoon to pick up a check for the work he’d been doing. Then, feigning fatigue, he asked Violet, whom he’d accompanied, if they could leave.
“Of course, Curtis.” Violet waved to Sophie, then said goodbye to the group of volunteers she’d been regaling with tales of the previous occupants of Ellie’s house and the fun they’d had when they were younger.
“It always makes me so nostalgic, coming here,” she told Curtis as they walked to her car. “It reminds me of when I was young, and Lilly and Rose were still alive. Such times we had …”
“You were always fun to be around, Violet. I know how close you and Rose, in particular, were all through your school days.”
“That we were, Curtis.”
Violet’s car was parked at the end of Ellie’s driveway, a privilege Violet assumed because of her age.
The pair got into the car and began the drive back to Old St. Mary’s Church Road in silence, Curtis distracted by the apparent coolness between Sophie and Jason, and Violet accustomed to a quiet car.
When they made the turn onto Charles Street, Curtis asked, “Do you suppose it’s true what they say about Grace Sinclair?”
“What on earth are you talking about? What do they say about Grace?” Violet’s eyes narrowed, but she never took them from the road.
“Oh, that she knows … spells, or something like that,” he mumbled.
“They still say that, do they?”
“It used to be the talk of the town, how Grace and Alice Ridgeway and a few others dabbled in … whatever it was they dabbled in …” He sighed. “You know what I mean, Violet.”
“Yes, I certainly do.” Was that a half smile of amusement on her face?
“So, does she?”
“Does she what, dear?”
“Does Grace Sinclair still do that stuff?” He wondered if he sounded as silly as he felt, but it was for a good cause, wasn’t it? “Spells.”
“What kind of spell did you have in mind, Curtis?”
“Something like a … like a …” He lowered his voice. “A love spell.”
At first, Violet appeared not to have heard, but finally, she said, “I’m trying to figure out why a man whose next big birthday will be ninety would be interested in a love spell.”
“It’s certainly not for me.”
“Why, I do believe you’re blushing, Curtis Enright.” Violet seemed to be having a little too much fun with the conversation.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t blush,” he grumbled.
“I’m assuming that if it’s not for you, the spell you have in mind has something to do with Sophie.”
Curtis nodded.
“Don’t you think Sophie is old enough and smart enough to take care of things in her own time?”
“Maybe in her time, but perhaps not in mine. And I want to see the girl settled before my time is up.”
“I see.” Violet slowed as she approached his house and stopped at the curb. “The young man you have in mind would be …?”
“Jason.”
“Of course. I should have guessed.”
“He’s the right one for her, Violet. Rose and I both agreed.”
“And Sophie? How does she feel about Jason?”
“I haven’t asked her.”
“And he …?”
“Haven’t asked him either.”
“Then why on earth would you want to interfere?”
“Because I know what I know, that’s why,” he snapped, then softened. “Sorry, Violet. It’s just that, it’s one of those things you just know.”
She nodded. Apparently there were things she just knew, too.
“So?” he asked pointedly.
“Sometimes it’s best not to meddle,” she said. “Sometimes it’s best to just let nature take its course.”
“This isn’t one of them.”
“All right.” She seemed resigned. “I’ll see what I can do. But don’t blame me if things don’t go well.”
“Thank you, Violet. I thank you, and Rose thanks you.” He touched her arm briefly, then opened the car door. “And someday, Sophie will thank you, too …”
“I certainly hope you’re right,” she said as she drove away.
He stood on the sidewalk while she turned around in his driveway, then raised a hand to wave as she passed by on her way home. He was grateful that not only had she agreed to help him—whatever form that help might take, he hadn’t asked—but that she hadn’t made him feel any more foolish than he already did. He was so grateful that he decided right then and there that he’d never bring up the fact that he knew she’d loaned Sophie the money to open her restaurant.
“Well, I guess we’ll see if there’s any truth to all those stories people used to tell about Grace and Alice and the others,” he said aloud as he unlocked the front door.
He leaned his walking stick next to the hall table and paused as it occurred to him that Violet seemed to know an awful lot about that whole spell thing. Had she said she’d see what
she
could do, or that she’d see what could be done? He couldn’t remember which it had been.
“Rose, you don’t suppose that Violet …” He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Violet was much too sensible a woman to ever be involved in such nonsense.
Of course,
he
thought it was nonsense. But the way things were going, he figured it couldn’t hurt.
Feeling that the situation was under control, Curtis went into his study and plopped in his favorite chair, picked up the new thriller that had arrived in the morning mail, and began to read.
And that was where, several hours later, Jason found him, slumped over the arm of the chair.
Jesse, Brooke, and Sophie sat quietly in the waiting room at Bay Memorial Hospital, where Curtis had been taken following Jason’s call to 911. When a tall, thin doctor stepped into the room and asked, “Enright family?” they all stood at the same time.
“How is he?” three voices asked at once.
“You’re Mr. Enright’s …?”
“Grandchildren.”
“Which one of you is Jason?”
“Ah, none of us. He’s the one who called me,” Jesse said. “Is he here?”
“He was. He followed the ambulance when Mr. Enright was brought in and helped with the admission process. I assumed he was family.”
“He’s a friend of the family,” Jesse told him. “What can you tell us about our grandfather? Is he all right?”
“Can we see him?” Sophie asked.
“Right now, we’re running some tests, and until we have the results, we won’t be able to tell you much of anything. It appears he’s had some sort of spell, but we’re not sure what caused it. He’s still unresponsive.”
The doctor looked up from his notes. “Does anyone know if he has a DNR?”
“What’s a DNR?” Brooke asked.
“Do not resuscitate,” Sophie replied. “Is it that serious?”
“I’m just covering the bases. Do you know if he had a living will?”
“He does,” Jesse said softly. “I saw a copy at the office.”
The doctor nodded. “Why don’t you all go on home. We’ll call you if he comes around, or when we know something definitive.”
“I want to stay,” Jesse said. “I think someone should be here when he wakes up.”
“I’d stay with you, but I need to drop Logan off at Jason’s,” Brooke said as she stood. “It’s Saturday.”
Guys’ night out, Sophie recalled.
“I’ll do it,” Sophie told them. “You guys stay here with Pop, and I’ll go pick up Logan and take him to Jason’s. Besides, we need to thank him for getting Pop to the hospital and for calling Jesse.” She stood and grabbed her bag from the back of the hard plastic chair she’d been seated on. “Call me if there’s a change.”
“Will do. Thanks, Sophie.” Brooke gave her a quick hug. “I’ll call Logan and tell him you’re on your way so he can meet you outside.”
Sophie’s running shoes made an odd muffled squeak on the vinyl tiled floor as she hurried to the elevator, her thoughts jumbled, her prayers disjointed. It was difficult to think rationally, she discovered, in panic mode. The thought of losing her grandfather overrode everything else. He’d become so dear to her,
so important in her life over the past year, that she couldn’t imagine what it would be like without him.
“Please hang on, Pop,” she whispered as she got into her SUV. “Don’t give up.”
She wondered if sometimes one had a choice: stay or go? Given the chance to choose, she was pretty sure which her grandfather would take. How many times had he spoken wistfully of Rose, how much he missed her, how he was only marking time until they could be together again? Was it wrong for her to pray that he not get his wish just yet so they might keep him with them a little longer?
Of course, she knew the outcome wasn’t in her hands. Whatever was to happen was in accordance with a plan of someone else’s design, and they would all have to accept that, whatever it was.
Still, she would miss him. It hurt her heart to think how much.
She stopped at the end of the driveway leading to the Madison farm to compose herself. When she felt she had it together, she parked the car, and she’d just gotten out when she saw Logan headed down the path from the house where he lived with his mother and Jesse on Brooke’s family farm.
“Hi, Sophie!” Logan waved and broke into a trot. “Mom said for me to watch for you, so I did.”
“Good thinking on your mom’s part.” Sophie got back into the car. Had Brooke told Logan about Pop? The boy had gotten pretty close to Curtis and would surely be upset if he thought his great-grandfather by marriage was in peril. Sophie decided not to mention it unless Logan did.
“So what’s on the agenda for tonight?” she asked.
“Pizza!” He chortled. “Uncle Jace said I could pick what kind tonight since it was just him and me. Cody had to go somewhere with his mom and dad, so he can’t come with us. We’re going to go out to a movie.”
“What are you going to see?”
“Uncle Jace said it’s going to be a surprise.” Logan sat with his overnight bag on his lap. “Do you know where my uncle lives?”
“Ahhh … no. Actually, I don’t. What a silly thing for me not to ask.” Sophie felt more than silly, she felt incredibly foolish. Her mind was so focused on her grandfather’s condition that she forgot she hadn’t been to Jason’s home before.