She found a flashlight in the kitchen and started her climb to the attic. As soon as she opened the door, a swirling draft of cold air engulfed her, and Grace closed the top button on Grey’s flannel shirt, which she was wearing.
She had pulled the shirt out of its hiding place under her pillow this morning, feeling like a ninth-grade schoolgirl with a crush. She missed him already, even though he had been here just yesterday, kissing her senseless again.
Would he come back to check on her and Baby today? And kiss her again?
Well, heck. She needed to get a grip here. She had to keep repeating her mantra; Wrong man, wrong time. She couldn’t fall in love with one man while she held the child of another in her heart. Not if those two men hated each other.
There was simply no way that Grace and Baby and Grey and Michael could ever share their lives together.
And if she fell in love with Greylen MacKeage, there was no way she could avoid it. Besides, she had to return to her normal life in Virginia after the Summer Solstice.
Grace turned on the flashlight and closed the attic door behind her to keep the warm air below from escaping. As she shone her light around the expanse of the cold room, she was amazed at the accumulation of junk scattered over the entire attic. Years’ worth of it, broken chairs waiting for repair, boxes of clothes, lamps, pictures, Christmas decorations, and even an old eight-track tape player the size of a couch.
But what really caught her eye was the baby furniture. There was a crib, a cradle, a changing table, and a high chair, all oak, all covered with years of dust.
She had hit pay dirt. Everything she needed for Baby was up there. There were probably even some of her and Mary’s old clothes in some of the boxes.
Grace decided to check the roof first, before hauling her find downstairs. She shone her flashlight onto the ridge pole that ran the length of the attic. Except for the hundred years’ accumulation of dust, it looked as solid and new as the day it had been positioned. She let the light beam trail down the rafters to where they ended at the eaves. They, too, looked fine and as straight as arrows.
A large snap suddenly sent a shiver throughout the house, the force of it powerful enough that articles in the attic rattled around her. Grace flinched but quickly shone her light back up at the rafters.
Nothing had changed.
It was the ice, she realized. The ice on the roof was cracking, not the roof itself. She recognized the sound, now that she thought about it. It was the same sound Pine Lake made on cold winter nights, as its frozen mantle shifted under the building pressure, the ice expanding and contracting as it thickened.
She breathed a sigh of relief. The house was certainly straining under the weight, but it was far from being in any danger of breaking. Satisfied that the roof wouldn’t fall in on her head, Grace grabbed the cradle and changing table and lowered them into the house. The rest could wait until either Grey or Michael returned to visit.
She carried the cradle into the kitchen and washed away the dirt. Then she used a dry cloth to polish it.
That done, she carried the now shining clean cradle into the living room and set it near the fireplace to warm up.
“There you go, Baby. You’re going to sleep in a real bed for a change,” she told the dreaming child. He was making sucking motions with his mouth against his fist, his long eyelashes resting on his warm, pink cheeks. His hair was still a wild mess, but the haphazard style was growing on Grace.
She pulled his blanket back up to his shoulders and looked at her watch to see that it was one in the afternoon. She heard a knock on her kitchen door. Her heart jumped into overdrive at the thought that Grey had returned. She rushed to the door and opened it, only to find two familiar faces that she couldn’t immediately place.
“Oh, Grace,” the woman said, reaching out and enveloping her in a gigantic hug. “We’re so sorry. We just heard about Mary.”
The man, his arms laden with dishes covered in foil, walked past them and set his load on the kitchen table. The woman wouldn’t let her go. She just kept hugging her, rocking Grace back and forth.
“I told Peter we weren’t going to let a little storm stop us from coming,” the woman continued. “We’re here for whatever you need.”
“Ah…thank you,” Grace murmured against a wet, woolly shoulder. She pulled herself out of the embrace and stared at the woman. “I know you,” she said.
The woman laughed. “Of course you do, Gracie. I’m Mavis. And that’s Peter. We’re the Pottses. I used to baby-sit you and your sister when you were just barely toddlers.”
“Oh, yes,” Grace said, taking the woman by both hands and squeezing them affectionately, ashamed of herself for not recognizing them both immediately. “I haven’t set eyes on you in years. It’s good to see you both again.”
Mavis Potts gave her an apologetic smile. “We were in California visiting our son when your parents died, and we couldn’t get back in time for the funeral.”
The woman hugged her again, quickly this time. “We just heard about Mary, honey. What can we do for you? I brought you something to eat,” she said, going over to the table and unwrapping the dishes. Mavis suddenly looked awed, if somewhat abashed, by all the food she found herself unwrapping. “I probably overdid it, but that’s what I do when I hear bad news. I cook.”
“How did you find out about Mary?” Grace asked, walking up to Peter Potts and giving him a warm hug.
“Ellen Bigelow phoned us this morning,” Peter said. “Told us Michael had been out all night and came home this morning with the news.”
“He’s devastated,” Mavis added, holding a heaping, still steaming apple pie in her hand. “He’s not handling it well. He’s locked himself in his room, and Ellen said he hasn’t eaten all day.”
“They were going to get married, you know,” Mavis added in a saddened whisper. She set the apple pie back on the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
Grace could see the seventyish woman’s eyes begin to water. “I just can’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head. “Mary’s dead. When did it happen?”
Grace blew out a tired breath, pulled out another chair, and sat down across from her. The lies were about to begin yet again.
“Six weeks ago,” Grace told her. “She was in an automobile accident.”
“She was down visiting you? Where? Virginia, isn’t it?”
“Yes. She came down because I asked her to. I was pregnant, and I wanted her company.”
Mavis’s eyes widened to saucers. “Pregnant?” she squeaked, looking toward Grace’s stomach.
Grace nodded in the direction of the living room. “I had a son four weeks ago,” she told her.
“Oh, you poor child,” Mavis lamented, getting up and pulling Grace out of her chair so she could hug her again. “Losing your sister now,” she commiserated. “At what should be the happiest time of your life.”
Grace hugged her back, her eyes watering with unshed tears. She was glad the woman had come calling today, even if she did make her cry. Mavis let her go and headed into the living room.
“Grace Sutter, you have this child in an apple crate,” she chided, appalled. “Why isn’t he in his cradle?”
“I just got it down from the attic,” she told her, walking into the living room with Peter trailing behind her.
“I forgot it even existed. The changing table and some clothes are still up there. I’m going to bring them down later. I just got this cleaned up, but I didn’t want to disturb him yet.”
“It’s a boy? What’s his name?” Mavis asked in a hushed tone as she peeked at the sleeping child.
Grace closed her stinging eyes. She liked these people, and she hated to lie to them.
“I’m calling him Baby for now,” she told Mavis. “I haven’t been able to decide on a name yet. What with Mary and everything, I’ve just wanted to wait. I want it to be the right name.”