A look of consternation crossed the old priest’s expression. He opened his mouth, then suddenly snapped it shut and glared at her. Grace was getting a little frustrated herself.
“Well? Did you know Michael seven years ago?” she finally asked. “When the incident with Maura happened?”
“Why?” he asked back, sounding defensive.
She wanted to strangle him. Wasn’t he listening to her? “Because,” she said with as much patience as she could muster, “if you’ve known Michael that long, you can tell me if anything happened to him that would explain why he believes what he does?”
“I have to finish my Novena,” he suddenly said, standing up.
Grace stood up also. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“I’m a priest,” he said, walking away from her. He stopped and looked back. “I’ve taken a vow not to repeat what I hear. If you’re wanting to know anything about MacBain, you’d best be asking the MacKeage. He’s not under any such restriction.”
That said, Father Daar left as silently as he had arrived, the thump of his cane swallowed up by the rug.
Grace stared at the door where he disappeared. Well, that had been productive. She was no closer to finding the answers she needed about Michael than when she had arrived in Pine Creek.
She didn’t want to ask Grey. Or the others, either. But what other choice was there? She had to justify her actions if she intended to keep Baby. Grace walked over to his cradle and watched him sleep.
What was she going to do?
Grey helped the last of the older women out of the snowcat and took her arm as they walked into the resort hotel. That meant sixteen of the twenty rooms that were finished were already full. And people from town were still coming in, now that the word seemed to be out.
It had been Morgan’s idea that they offer up their hotel to anyone needing a warm, comfortable place to weather the storm now that the power had failed. Morgan had gone into the Bigelow house for a drink of water and discovered an aging Ellen Bigelow dressed in layers of clothes, filling pots with ice to melt on the woodstove in her living room.
Morgan had approached Grey with his idea to fire up their hotel generator and make the older people and women with young children in town more comfortable at TarStone Mountain Resort.
It had been a good idea, but implementing it was easier said than done. The people of Pine Creek were an independent lot, especially the older ones. They didn’t want to leave their homes. Grey was blue in the face from talking before he was able to convince John and Ellen Bigelow that it was the practical thing to do. And that was all it took, it seemed, for someone to make the first move. If the Bigelows thought it was a smart decision, the others quickly followed suit.
It had taken both snowcats to transport everyone. As soon as Grey or Morgan brought someone to the hotel, someone else thought of others who needed rescuing. Callum and Morgan and Grey had spent all evening shuttling women, children, and old people from all over town.
The storm had taken a turn for the worse, and it was now sleeting at a rate of an inch an hour. If it kept up, Grey wouldn’t even need the snow-making equipment to cover MacBain’s trees.
Grey might not care for the man they had helped tonight, but he had to admire Grace’s ingenious yet very simple plan to save MacBain from ruin. Instead of trying to fight Mother Nature, they were using snow to protect the young trees by burying them. It was working beautifully.
But what surprised him even more was the fact that Morgan and eventually Callum had helped. He didn’t fault Ian for wanting to remain stubborn; given a choice, he would have also.
Grey was not about to face Grace Sutter, however, when this was over and MacBain was ruined and he was not. Giving into her ultimatum may not be the wisest way to begin their relationship, with Grace thinking she had that kind of control over him, but it was better than having no relationship at all.
Besides, something good was coming from their efforts. The townspeople were responding to their offer of help. For the last four years, the four men and the priest, Daar, had kept to themselves, isolated from the rest of the world, seeking the sanctuary of their mountain forest while they came to terms with the new life they had been so violently thrown into.
The isolation was over now, and it seemed they had inherited themselves a community. The fact that half the town was suddenly living in their resort now was probably the best example of just how far Grey and his men had come. Community was still the best means of survival.
They had simply forgotten that truth—until today.
Word had gotten out within an hour of their starting to set up their equipment at the Christmas tree farm.
Eight able-bodied men had arrived to work beside them, and they had completed the job in half the time.
All without the help of the bastard MacBain. He had disappeared before Grey and Morgan had arrived.
According to John Bigelow, MacBain was in the habit of heading off into the mountains every so often, whenever he took to brooding and wanted to be alone. John felt that MacBain was probably trying to come to terms with Mary’s death.
Which was fine with Grey, although it was ironic that they were trying to save MacBain’s future and the man wasn’t even present. But Grey had found himself looking up toward the mountains, wondering how he would feel, how he would react, if something happened to Grace. He, too, would probably head into the wilderness. He just wasn’t sure he would return. Not without Grace to come back to.
“I never imagined I’d ever see the inside of this place,” the woman he was helping said, gawking around at the two-story lobby. “And now I’m staying here.”
“We’ve been planning an open house for the people of Pine Creek,” Grey lied, suddenly deciding he’d make it a truth.
“A real party, with dancing?” she asked, looking up at him with sparkling, excited brown eyes.
“And gondola rides to the top,” he added, smiling at her, hoping they still had a gondola lift come spring.
The woman stopped and grabbed her chest with a gasp that nearly knocked her over, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. “I’ve always wanted to ride on one of those lifts. But I don’t ski,” the eightyish woman said. “You’re going to run it in the summer?”
“Yes. You can see the whole of Pine Lake from the top,” he told her. “And there will be a restaurant at the summit.”
“How do you get the food up there?” she wanted to know, eyeing him suspiciously.
“We use the snowcat you just rode in.”
“Oh, of course. Thank you, young man,” she said, patting his arm. “I see Mavis over there. I want to tell her I’m here. She’s probably worried sick about me.” She attempted to straighten her time-bent frame as she smoothed the front of her coat. “Mavis thinks I need looking after like a child, just because I’m old,”
she told Grey in a co-conspirator’s voice. “I don’t, but I haven’t the heart tell her. She needs to be helpful.”
And you do need looking after, Grey said to himself. He didn’t even know her name, but he did know about pride and independence.
He was in love with a woman who had buckets of both.
He watched as the old lady made her way over to the woman who must be Mavis and smiled when Mavis immediately began mothering her.
Grey headed back out into the sleet, pulling up the collar of his coat as he let his tired feet carry him up the path to Gu Bràth. He was nearly finished. All that was left to do before he found his bed was ensure that he had a gondola come spring.
Grey let himself in quietly and stood in the doorway to the living room, watching Grace and Baby sleeping together in the chair by the fire. Baby was snuggled under her chin, and Grace had her arms wrapped securely around him as they both slept. An empty bottle of formula lay on the floor beside the chair, and a discarded diaper was rolled up beside it.