She ducked her head after her statement, prepared to weather another gale of shouting for mentioning Michael’s name.
But it did not come. Several eyebrows rose in surprise, and then all of them, Grey included, frowned at her.
“What do you mean, not quite sane?” Ian asked, curious despite his darkening expression.
“You know. Not right in the head. Given to delusions. Has he ever had an accident that you know of? Or been caught in a thunderstorm? Did something happen to Michael four years ago that would make him think he traveled through time?”
Every fork in every hand fell to the table, clattering with a loudness that echoed like gunfire in the sudden silence of the room. Every face looking at her suddenly paled.
Grace was beginning to suspect the worst. Father Daar had said he couldn’t confide in her because he was bound by his position not to tell what he knew. And now every MacKeage at the table looked guilty as hell.
“You beat him up, didn’t you?” she accused, pointing her fork at them. “Four years ago, you had a confrontation and put Michael in a coma.”
“What are you blathering about, woman?” Callum asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “You’re accusing us of assaulting MacBain?”
“Well, something happened four years ago. Michael told Mary and then me that he’d traveled here eight hundred years from the past. That he’d been in a fight when a terrible storm appeared. And he’d been consumed by a bright light and woke up in modern time.”
“He said that?” Morgan whispered, his face turning slightly green. “To Mary? And you?”
Why were they all acting as if she had just told them ghosts were sitting on their shoulders? Grace looked up the length of the table at Grey. He was sitting stone still, his features drawn, his evergreen eyes unreadable.
She looked down and picked up Baby’s pacifier and stuck it in his mouth. Great. Another dead end.
And that left only Michael MacBain himself. She was going to have to confront him again and not let up until she understood what had happened.
“You will not,” Grey said from the head of the table. “You stay the hell away from him.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken her decision aloud. Grace looked up, making sure he could read in her eyes everything she was thinking.
“I want to know the truth.”
Callum, Morgan, and Ian turned and looked at Grey.
“It’s unimportant,” he said. “MacBain’s sanity is not the issue.”
“Tell me, lass,” Ian interjected, looking back at her. “Was this why Mary went to Virginia?”
“Yes.”
“But she was coming back?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Does that not answer your question, then?” Ian said. “Your sister must have thought him right in the head. And may I ask what difference it makes? Mary’s dead, lass,” he reminded her in a gentle voice, his eyes suddenly softening. “It’s over.”
“But it’s still important to me,” she argued. “I want to know the truth. Mary loved him, and I want to understand why he told her such a story.”
“He’s as sane as we are,” Grey said then, standing up and walking to her end of the table. He took Baby from her and settled him against his chest. He reached down and turned her chin with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“I’m sorry if that only makes things harder for you, Grace, but we will not lie to you. Michael MacBain is no more crazy than I am.”
Chapter Eighteen
Grey, Jonathan, and the MacKeages were standing in the ski-lift shed waiting for Grace to perform her magic on the heavy, ice-burdened gondola cable. And it looked to Grey as if it was about to snap at any minute.
Jonathan stood next to Grace, discussing stress loads, amps, volts, and dead shorts. Jonathan shook his head steadily, saying it didn’t sound feasible. Grace nodded her head and said it should work. Her beautiful features were set in determined lines.
Ian stood between Grace and Jonathan, his head moving back and forth like a child’s swing. He scratched his beard and frowned every time Jonathan said no and mimicked Grace when she nodded.
Callum was fueling up the two snowcats and keeping the generators fueled as well, and Morgan had taken Baby over to the hotel for Ellen Bigelow to watch. Ellen and half the town of Pine Creek, more likely. The kid was going to come back to them spoiled as hell and probably smiled to death.
Grey realized he’d barely dodged the swing of the sword back there in the dining room. He couldn’t believe MacBain had been stupid enough to tell Mary Sutter what had happened four years ago.
And then the idiot had repeated the story to Grace.
Grey had decided that he’d go to his grave with his secret, and Mary’s and Grace’s reactions were exactly the reason why. Mary had fled to her sister in horror, and Grace had labeled Michael MacBain insane.
What other conclusion could anyone draw from such an outrageous story? If he hadn’t actually lived it himself, he would have the same reaction as the Sutter women.
“I’m not an electrician or a lineman,” he heard Grace say to Ian. “I’m only speculating here. If we create a dead short in that lift cable, then send enough amps through it, the ice should simply melt off.”
“Or?” Ian said, giving her a crooked look.
Grace shrugged, tossing her hands up and letting them fall back against her sides. “Or it might blow up,”
she said, darting a look at Grey, then back at Ian. “I don’t know.”
“How do we put power to it?” Ian asked.
“An arc welder would be good, but I don’t know if the one you have is powerful enough. There’s almost two miles of thick cable. It could take days to build up the kind of energy we’re talking about.”
“Our generator is powerful,” Ian suggested. “Would that work?”
“It would,” Grace said, her brows knitted into a frown again. “Is it portable?”
“No. It’s permanently wired into its own shed. There,” Ian said, pointing toward the hotel.
“But there are wires running from it to here,” she observed, looking at the lightbulb glaring over their heads. She frowned again. “We could convert it to two-twenty, but that might create another problem.”
If the sigh he sent through the building was any indication, Ian was getting mighty tired of problems.
“And what would that be, lass?” he asked tiredly.
“We could burn down the shed.”
The old warrior tore off his hat and threw it on the floor. “God’s teeth! It might as well all burn if the cable snaps,” he shouted in frustration. “Just quit talking about it and do the thing, lass.”
Grey walked over to Grace, who was obviously reluctant to blow his business to hell. He took her by the shoulders from behind and whispered into her ear. “If it doesn’t work, Grace, it doesn’t matter. It’s about to collapse on its own.”
She leaned back against his chest and looked up into his eyes. “I made you a promise.”
“Nay. You said only that you would try, and that’s all I’m asking now.”
“The generator might blow up, too, and take half the hotel with it if a fire breaks out.”
She looked so worried he wanted to kiss her. Didn’t she realize that none of it mattered?
“They’re only things, Grace. We’ll make sure no one is in harm’s way, and the rest can take care of itself.”
“It’ll take all day and half the night to make this thing work,” Jonathan said. “What about my disks?”
“Callum can take you into the mountains in the snowcat,” Grey told him. “He knows where the crash site is.”
Jonathan turned his attention to Grace, apparently having learned she was easier to deal with. “You have to come back with me to Virginia the moment I get the disks,” he said. “It’s the only place I can keep you safe.”