“A-and while you’re at it, could you help me figure out if this ache in my chest is because I love Luke more than I fear the magic? Because if that’s what’s making my heart hurt, then I’m afraid you’re also going to have to help me find the courage to do something about it.”

The little transmitter suddenly chirped, and Cam stilled on an indrawn breath. “Where?” she whispered, moving the instrument left and then right.

It chirped again when she started walking toward the front of the cabin, giving a series of beeps that increased in frequency. As she waved it back and forth like a homing device, it eventually led her to the front wall, then started vibrating when she passed it near a dusty old frame hanging at eye level.

It took Cam a moment to realize she was looking at some sort of certificate. She pulled down the sleeve of her sweater, rubbed away the dust, and suddenly frowned.

Roger AuClair was a justice of the peace?

She squinted to read the date, but the ink was smudged by what appeared to be a thumbprint. June something, the year two thousand and . . . something.

She held the transmitter next to the frame, and it started vibrating excitedly again. Cam’s heart thumped madly, and a flurry of butterflies took flight in her belly. “What are you saying?” she whispered.

The cabin door beside her suddenly opened, startling Cam into tossing the transmitter into the air with a gasp of surprise. It bounced off an equally startled Roger, causing Luke to bump into him when the old hermit stopped in midstep. All three of them watched as the transmitter clattered to the floor, rolled up against the leather recliner, and loudly chirped.

Roger walked over and picked it up just as Max tried to grab it. “Dag-nab-it, what are you doing back here, you infernal thing?” he asked the instrument. He held it toward Camry. “You make it stop that blasted noise, Missy MacKeage, or I swear I’m going to take my shotgun to it.”

When Cam only gaped at him, he thrust the transmitter toward Luke. “I thought I’d seen the last of this blasted thing when I gave it to Fiona.”

Luke stopped in midreach. “Did you say Fiona? She was here?”

“Of course she was here.” Roger slapped the transmitter into Luke’s hand. “Who do you think told me to expect you?”

“Fiona Gregor?” Luke glanced uncertainly at Camry. “How old is she?”

Roger’s eyebrows drew together. “Yes, Gregor. And I never know how old she’s going to be when she shows up.” He held his arm out at eye level. “But this time she was in her teens, about yeahigh, with long blond hair and big blue eyes.” He kissed his fingers with a loud smack. “And she bakes the sweetest pies this side of heaven.”

“When was Fiona here?” Camry asked.

“Well, let me see,” Roger murmured, smoothing down his shaggy white beard, then tapping his fingers against it as if counting. “Last time, it was almost three weeks ago.” He nodded toward the transmitter. “I bartered her six apple pies for that thing. But what she didn’t know was that I would have given it to her for free.” He suddenly scowled, pointing at them. “But don’t you go telling her that when you see her, you hear? It would hurt her feelings,” he said with a nod. “She was beside herself happy, thinking she was getting the best end of the bargain, ’cause I didn’t tell her it suddenly starts squawking for no reason. I spent the good part of last summer tearing this cabin apart looking for a mouse before I realized it was that thing making those little noises.”

Camry inched closer to Luke and slipped her hand into his, taking a fortifying breath when he quietly squeezed it. “I noticed you’re a justice of the peace, Mr. AuClair, and I was wondering if you perform weddings?” she asked, squeezing Luke’s hand in return when he stiffened. “And what you might charge for your services.”

“Well now,” Roger said, his eyes glinting in the setting sunlight coming through the open door. “That would depend on what you might have that I’d want.” He arched one bushy brow. “I’d be willing to barter for that big dog of yours, seeing as how I lost my own faithful black friend almost thirteen years ago. He wasn’t half as handsome as your Max, what with his missing part of one ear and his eyes being foggy, but he was all heart, I tell you.” He nodded. “I’d marry you two up for Max, but you can keep Tigger. She’s friendly enough, but she don’t seem all that practical, what with having almost no legs and needing to wear that prissy sweater.”

“I’m sorry, but Max is—”

“Will you please excuse us, Mr. AuClair?” Luke said, cutting Cam off by dragging her out the door. “We’ll just be a moment.”

Luke led her a fair distance from the cabin, then spun around to face her. “Mind telling me what you’re up to?” he asked, a distinct edge in his voice.

“I’m accepting your proposal.”

“Now? You want some crazy old hermit to marry us?” He took hold of her shoulders. “Camry, this isn’t the time or the place. I asked you to marry me only hours ago, and that’s not enough time for you to make that kind of decision.”

Cam’s heart started pounding so hard that her ribs actually hurt. “A-are you having second thoughts?”

“No!” His hands on her shoulders tightened. “But if we’re not legally married, then you won’t believe you’re trumping the universe.”

“But he’s a real justice of the peace. I saw his certificate hanging on the wall.”

“That certificate is probably as old as the cabin.”

“No, it was issued to Roger AuClair by the state of Maine in the year two thousand and something. It’s real. It even has the Maine seal on it.”

“But we don’t have a license. Or witnesses. And I’m not an American citizen. This isn’t a decision you can make in a few hours and then do in two minutes.”

“You young folks needn’t worry about the paperwork,” Roger said, waving some papers as he walked toward them. “You’ll be legally wed. Fiona brought me your license,” Roger continued when Luke spun around in surprise. He handed the papers to him. “She filled out all your information, and she even signed as your witness.”

“That’s impossible.” Luke scanned the page, then flipped over to the next page. “Who in hell is this other witness, Thomas Gregor Smythe?” he asked, turning to Cam when she gasped.

“H-he’s an old hermit who used to live in Pine Creek. And he’s also Winter’s . . . grandson,” she whispered, her heartache turning to dread when Luke took a step back.

She glanced briefly at Roger AuClair, then back at Luke. Only instead of calmly explaining what she finally realized was going on, Cam suddenly threw herself into his arms. “I’ve spent my whole life running from the magic!” she cried. “And instead of hating me for it, the magic gave me you!” She looked up, blinking back tears as she clutched his jacket. “Please, Luke, I need you to love me uncompromisingly, unpretentiously, and . . . and unconditionally,” she ended in a desperate whisper.

Luke took hold of her shoulders and held her away from him. “But the real Fiona Gregor is only five months old. And her mother is younger than you are. Thomas Smythe can’t be Winter’s grandson, because he isn’t even been born yet,” he growled. “None of this is making any sense, Camry.”

“Miracles don’t have to make sense,” Roger interjected, drawing Luke’s attention. “That’s the unconditional part of love, Renoir. It’s what causes a mangy old pound mutt to hold on to a child who would love him forever for nearly an hour, and compels a mother to wait twenty years,” he said, looking at Cam, “letting the secret to ion propulsion orbit the world until her daughter is ready to take ownership of her destiny.” He nodded toward the papers Luke held crushed in his fist. “And it’s opportunities given to those courageous enough to look deep inside themselves, and accept what they see—flaws and all—as the miracles they are.