He did learn that she was conducting an environmental study for a man named Mark Collins, whom neither woman appeared to know much about. The majority of the conversation had been about Camry’s work. Ion propulsion was going to put Earth on the cosmic map, apparently, once Camry figured out how to stabilize the stuff.
What must the MacKeage household be like when all seven daughters and their scientist mother got together? Jack was gaining a whole new respect for Greylen MacKeage, considering his own head was still spinning from a conversation that had quite literally been out of this world.
“We should hurry up, Meg. I’ll clear the table and pack the dishwasher,” Camry offered, gathering up the plates. “You go to the baby’s room and decide how you want to arrange it before everyone gets here.”
“You have company coming?” Jack asked, also getting to his feet.
“Just Mom and Elizabeth and Chelsea,” Camry told him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And Daddy.”
Jack froze as he was reached for his crutches.
“Actually, it’s good that you’re here,” she continued, rinsing the plates in the sink. “You can entertain Daddy while we work on the baby’s room.”
Holy hell! “Maybe I should head over to my house. I don’t want to be in the way.”
Camry straightened from putting the plates in the dishwasher. “You won’t be in the way, Jack. Besides, when I ran over to get you some clean clothes, your house was cold. It can’t be more than fifty degrees in there.”
The perfect excuse! “Then I should go start a fire so the pipes don’t freeze.” At the sound of a giggle, Jack turned and found Megan with her hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with amusement. “What?” he snapped, forgetting he was trying to get back in her good graces.
“Nothing,” she said, making a futile attempt to stifle her smile. “I’m just remembering a conversation my family had over Christmas vacation. Your great-grandfather didn’t happen to be a Cree chief, did he?”
“Because our father is probably going to call you Chief,” Camry stated, also laughing at their little joke, which he seemed to be the brunt of. “To show his respect.”
“Grand-père wasn’t a chief,” he growled. “He was a shaman.”
Jack wanted to kick himself the moment he saw Megan’s reaction. She went perfectly still, her face blanching to the color of new snow.
Hell. What woman wouldn’t love hearing the child she was carrying descended from shamans?
“He—he practiced the magic?” Camry squeaked.
Jack turned toward the kitchen and saw that Camry was as pale as her sister. Wonderful. Now they both thought he was weird.
“He was a medicine man,” he growled. “He used herbs and prayers to heal people.”
“Did you, ah…inherit his gift?” Megan asked.
“No.”
“How do you know for sure?” Camry asked.
Jack held his crutches away from his body. “I’m thirty-four years old. Don’t you think I’d know something like that by now, and would heal myself if I could?”
“That’s not how the magic works,” Megan blurted out, then looked just as surprised at what she’d said as he was.
The magic? What was going on here? These two woman—scientists, for Pete’s sake—appeared both fascinated and horrified that his great-grandfather had been a shaman.
“Exactly how does the magic work, then?” he asked. “And what good would it do me, if I can’t heal myself?”
Megan narrowed her eyes, and there went her hands to her hips again. “Could your grandfather heal himself?”
“Great-grandfather,” he reminded her. “He used his medicinal herbs and sweat lodge whenever he was ill. You didn’t answer my question. How does the magic work?”
“How should I know? I’m a biologist, not a wizard.”
Wizard? Where had that come from?
“They’re here!” Camry said, rushing to the door and opening it to look outside.
Jack didn’t hear any vehicle driving in, no car doors shutting, nobody talking.
“Oh, I thought I heard something,” Camry said, closing the door. She then rushed across the room to the stairs. “I’ll be back in a minute. Let them in when they get here, will you, Jack?” she called out.
Jack turned to Megan, but she had disappeared, too. “Guess that ended that conversation,” he muttered to the empty room, only to realize this was his own chance to escape. He tucked his crutches under one arm and limped out onto the porch, then carefully made his way down the shadowed driveway.
A dark Suburban rounded the corner and pulled into the driveway, bathing Jack in blinding light just as he hit a patch of ice and his feet headed in two different directions. He fought to keep his balance for several seconds, realized it wasn’t going to happen, and threw himself toward the nearest snowbank.
His crutches landed on top of him, driving his face into the snow. Jack gave a pained sigh of defeat. He might as well stay here until he froze to death, rather than continue to be beaten up by everyone—including himself.
He could swear he heard Grand-père laughing his head off. For five years, Forest Dreamwalker had tried to persuade Jack that his brother’s gift had passed down to him, always ending each lecture with a warning that the longer Jack continued to deny his calling, the louder it would become.
Apparently destiny had resorted to shouting.
“Are you all right?” came a male voice. “You needn’t have jumped out of the way. I wouldn’t have hit ye.”
Wonderful. Jack couldn’t think of a better first meeting with his future father-in-law. He spit out a mouthful of snow. “I’m fine.”
“Let me help ye up.”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll stay right here for a while.”
“Jack?” Camry said, rushing off the porch and over to them. When she tried to stop, she also slipped on the ice, and skidded into Jack with enough force to make him grunt. She would have landed on top of him if her father hadn’t caught her. “Jack, what are you doing out here?”
“Taking a snow bath.”
“This is Jack Stone?” Greylen MacKeage said in surprise. He reached down, grabbed Jack by the shoulders, and lifted him to his feet. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Chief Stone,” the towering Scot said, grabbing Jack’s right hand and giving it a firm shake. The man looked like he was pushing seventy judging by his graying hair, but he had the grip of a bear. “I am Laird Greylen MacKeage, Megan’s father.”
Laird? Did that title even exist anymore?
“And I’m Grace MacKeage,” a petite, beautiful woman said as she appeared beside her husband. Her eyes shone a startling blue in the porch light. “You gave us a fright, Mr. Stone. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m fine,” he said, taking the hand she extended. “I just slipped on the ice.”
“Are these yours?” another woman said, bending to pick up his crutches. She held them out with a smile, and Jack found himself staring into Megan’s eyes but not Megan’s face. “I’m Chelsea,” she said. “Megan’s twin sister.”
“The lawyer from Bangor,” Jack acknowledged with a nod, taking the crutches from her. “Megan’s told me about you.”
Another woman crowded Chelsea out of the way. “I’m Elizabeth Sprague, Megan’s younger sister. I teach third grade here in town.”
Jack nodded. “I’ve met your husband. Walter, isn’t it? He’s the high school principal?”
“Yes. He mentioned you stopped by his school a few days ago, to speak to him about our pranksters.”
Pranksters was a cute name for the little bastards, Jack supposed. But then, Elizabeth Sprague was a teacher, and no teacher wanted to believe any child was a criminal.
“It’s freezing out here,” Megan called from the door. “What are you all doing standing outside?”