“You start by telling Kenzie you can no longer abide by the conditions of his favor, and that if he wants to continue whatever it is the two of you are doing down in the lab every day, then he has to let you tell Jack. If not, then you can’t continue to help him.”
“And the dragon?”
“You stop pussyfooting around that damn thing and tell Jack everything you know about it.”
“But that would be telling him about the magic. And the rule is, Daddy and Robbie have to tell him.”
Grace gave Megan a motherly smile and patted her arm. “The day you gave away your heart, your responsibility to your father transferred to Jack. The men in this family might want to control every situation, but that doesn’t mean we have to let them.” She sighed. “I still say Walter wouldn’t have panicked if Elizabeth had been the one to tell him our family history. It’s much less intimidating for a man to hear something like that from the woman he loves instead of from his future father-in-law—especially when that happens to be Grey.”
“But how do I tell Jack?”
“With love, baby,” she said, patting her arm again. “And timing. You pick the proper time and place, preferably right after he’s eaten. Men are much more agreeable when their bellies are full.”
Megan sighed. “Thanks, Mama. I think I get it now.”
“Do you? Because it’s not as simple as walking up to Jack and reciting a laundry list of all your secrets. You not only have to trust him completely, you’re going to have to make him feel that he can trust you with his secrets.”
Megan scrunched up her face at her mother. “And if he won’t tell me his secrets?”
“Then it’s not really love, is it? That’s how your heart knows it’s the real thing,” Grace said, slipping a strand of Megan’s hair behind her ear. “Along with trust, devotion, and respect, you also need intimacy between you. Those are the four cornerstones your love should stand on.”
“Like you and Daddy. Do you think Jack and I will have what the two of you have thirty-four years from now?”
“Yes,” Grace said, rolling off the bed and standing up. “Why don’t you stay here tonight, rather than going back to your house? You and Camry must be tired from your ride up Bear Mountain last night.”
Megan sat up with a snort. “How does everyone know about that?” Her eyes widened in alarm. “Does Daddy know?”
“Does it matter?” Grace asked, walking to the door. “It’s not your father you must answer to now, but Jack.” She arched one eyebrow when Megan opened her mouth to protest. “Are you about to tell me you wouldn’t mind if Jack snuck off in the middle of the night without telling you?”
“Of course I’d mind.”
Grace nodded. “You’re not seeking permission like a child, Megan—you’re discussing something you feel strongly about. There’s a huge difference between the two, and it goes a long way to creating an equal and honest relationship.”
“I get it. Truly. Go back to the party before the cake’s all gone.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be just peachy,” she said, lying back down and folding her hands over her belly with a smile. “Walker and I are going to lie here and figure out how we’re going to explain the magic to Jack.”
“Walker?”
“I’m having a boy, and we’re naming him after Jack’s brother, Walker.”
Grace rushed back to the bed and gave her a huge hug. “Congratulations! Your father is going to be so excited to have another grandson.”
“Let’s not tell him just yet, okay? Or else he’ll spend the next three months trying to talk Jack into changing his last name to MacKeage.” She shook her head. “Just like he’s tried with every son-in-law who gave him a grandson.”
Grace walked back to the door. “He almost got Walter to change his name,” she said with a laugh. “Until Elizabeth and I sat Walter down and explained that he wouldn’t be turned into a toad if he didn’t.” She opened the door. “Walker. I like that. Walker Stone.” She smiled. “Maybe Walker MacKeage Stone?”
“Maybe. Though I’m leaning more toward Walker Coyote Stone,” Megan said, laughing at her mother’s puzzled look. “I’ll tell you why once I clear it with my future husband.”
After all, her first obligation was to Jack.
Chapter Twenty-four
J ack turned up the volume on the television, then returned to packing his gear as he listened to the news. The Great Discovery, which had happened three days ago, was still making the headlines. Canada certainly was on everyone’s map now.
And Cùram de Gairn was a lot more powerful than Jack had realized, not to mention a genius. There had been a small natural disaster, all right, but it hadn’t been crude oil that had bubbled to the surface. Instead the earthquake had spawned several frothing geysers of the purest, sweetest water ever discovered, from what was being referred to as the largest subterranean aquifer in the world. And the upside was the First Nation People living in that area were scrambling to bottle the clear liquid gold for international export.
Jack buckled his pack shut, then walked over and picked up his rifle. He opened and closed the breech to double-check that the weapon wasn’t loaded, then replaced the regular scope with a night-vision scope. He slipped the rifle into the sheath attached to his pack, then clicked the remote to turn off the television before heading into his bedroom to change.
He wasn’t proud that he’d been avoiding Megan for the last three days, as well as ignoring the three notes she’d left taped to his door asking him to dinner three nights in a row—including tonight. But until this dragon business was settled one way or another, he was in no frame of mind to deal with their relationship.
Assuming there was a relationship to salvage when he got back. Killing the dragon would likely drive the last nail into the coffin of his and Megan’s future, which meant he was about to condemn himself to weekend visits with his son.
Kenzie’s time was up and Jack hadn’t heard anything, though the man had kept his promise that there wouldn’t be any more break-ins. In fact, the police business had been downright slow lately. It might have something to do with the two-foot snowstorm two days ago, or maybe the small army of state police cruisers in town all week investigating Peter Trump’s death had put a damper on crime. Ethel certainly wasn’t complaining. And Simon was back on the job, sporting four stitches on his left cheekbone. He was all but strutting around, having discovered that a facial scar received in the line of duty was a total chick magnet.
Dressed in thin long johns and clothes that afforded him easy movement, Jack grabbed his gear and headed out to his snowmobile. He secured his pack to the rear of his sled, started it up, and raced across the cove toward Bear Mountain, veering north to land well away from Matt and Winter’s cabin.
It was maybe an hour shy of sunset, and Jack wanted to start his trek up the mountain while he still had some daylight left. He reached shore at a point of land where a crooked old cabin was tucked in the pines, and parked between it and an even more rickety shed. Settling his pack on his back, he slipped into his snowshoes, pulled out his rifle and loaded it, then found a trail heading up the mountain on the other side of the shed. The trail looked plenty wide enough for a snowcat to maneuver up. But no one had been here since the snowstorm; the only tracks he saw were from four-legged creatures.
So where, he wondered as he trudged up the mountain, would he choose to live if he were a dragon?
Megan heard the snowmobile start up and immediately ran to the lakeside window, where to her dismay she saw Jack heading onto the lake. She gasped when she noticed what looked like a rifle sticking out of his backpack; she ran out on her deck and uselessly shouted at him as he zoomed away.
“Dammit to hell, Jack,” she cried, watching helplessly as he shot across the cove toward where Talking Tom’s cabin stood empty. “How do you always know exactly where to go?” She rushed back inside and dialed Camry’s cell phone.