“HOW WILL I warm Jules’s bottle?” Grace asked Mica as they finished the tasty cream-of-shrimp-and-leek soup that Mrs. Beabots had made. Grace sat on the floor near the fire and held Jules in her lap. Jules played with a rubber SpongeBob toy.
Though she’d grown up with Chicago’s bitter winters, she didn’t remember any power outages. Once in New York during college there’d been a brownout, but it had lasted one day. And she didn’t have a baby who depended on her. Mica ripped a hunk of bread off the loaf and said, “I’ll get a pan, put some water in it and heat the bottle over the fire.”
“But the bottle is plastic. It will melt.”
“Then we put the formula in the pan, heat it and then pour into that little sack when it’s cooled down a bit. Doable.” He munched his bread and winked at her.
Mrs. Beabots looked up from her bowl. “Would Jules like a bit of my soup? I don’t know what you’ve introduced to him, but he’s got a couple teeth, so...”
“Good idea!” Mica said before Grace could protest.
Mica dipped his spoon into the broth and held it out to Jules, who leaned forward and bit. Half the soup ran down his chin onto his bib, but he swallowed the other half.
Jules smacked his lips and stared at Mica as if considering the taste. Then he squirmed in Grace’s arms and reached for Mica.
“I think he wants another try,” Grace said.
Mica obliged and this time Jules got a piece of soft carrot. He swallowed, looked at Grace and smiled. He clapped his hands. “Da!”
“Great,” Mica moaned. “He probably thinks I made this gourmet concoction and I can barely even microwave pizza.”
Mrs. Beabots clucked her tongue. “If you’re going to be a father, Mica, you’re going to have to acquire a great many new skills.”
“I’m seeing that,” Mica said, sharing two more spoonfuls with Jules before finishing off his soup.
“Here,” Grace said. “You take Jules. I’ll go wash these dishes.”
Grace placed Jules on Mica’s lap and once again, Jules crawled up Mica’s chest like a monkey. Jules picked up his pacifier, which was hooked to his navy blue sweater, and tried to shove it into Mica’s mouth.
“Uh, no thanks, Jules,” Mica said. “Maybe later.”
Mica put the pacifier in Jules’s mouth, but Jules thought it was a game and popped it out again. He giggled and tried to share with Mica.
Grace gathered the bowls and spoons. Only a few feet away from the fire, the chill in the rest of the house made her shiver. In the kitchen, the wind howled against the north-and west-facing windows and seemed to cut right through the glass. She had a mind to go back and get her jacket.
Instead, she put the stopper in the sink and used as little hot water as she needed to wash up.
She looked out the kitchen window and saw candles burning in Sarah’s house next door. Suddenly, she remembered that Sarah had a new baby as well. She glanced up at the chimney and saw that Sarah and Luke had a fire going as well.
She had to admit there was something cozy about this situation. But if the storm kept up, there was no telling how snarled the Chicago airport would be. She remembered winter storms like this when it could take several days to get a flight out. She couldn’t afford to be away from the atelier any longer than she’d planned.
Grace went to the island and pulled up Sarah’s number on her phone. She glanced at her remaining battery. Twenty-seven percent. She hadn’t recharged it all day. She wondered if Mica had much power left, either.
It was all so oddly silent, this cocoon of snow that surrounded them. There was no one out on the street, the plows had not appeared and she hadn’t heard a single car pass.
It was as if there were no people left in the world except the four of them.
“Hello?”
“Sarah, it’s Grace. I’m at Mrs. Beabots’s kitchen window. How are you doing over there?”
“We’re fine. Luke’s got a fire going. The kids are putting a puzzle together and Charlotte has already fallen asleep.”
“Do you know anything about what happening?” Grace asked anxiously.
“Luke has one of those military-issue radios that gives everything from the marine forecast on Lake Michigan to national weather. The good news is that the snow is supposed to end within the hour. He’s pulled every string he can to find out when the power will come on, but there are several transformers out all over town. We just have to wait our turn.”
“How long will that take?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mica said that their power went out for four days once. I can’t lose four days,” Grace said frantically.
“That must have been out at the farm. We’ve never lost it for more than two days here in town.”
“Oh, that’s good news. I’m glad I called. My phone is nearly out of juice and Mrs. Beabots’s landline is dead, so I should go. I think Mica has power on his phone in case you guys need anything.”
“Grace. Don’t worry. We’ll all be fine. We can always walk over to check on each other. Tell Mica I talked to Maddie and she said Nate got home from the hospital before the storm hit. I guess Gina was worried. I haven’t talked to Gabe or Liz. Did Mica?”
“He said they had all left voice mails. He might have answered them.”
“Double-check, okay? I just don’t want Gina or anybody to worry.”
“Do...they do that? Check up on him a lot?”
“Yeah. Ever since...” Sarah stopped. “Uh...”
“I thought that might be the case. I don’t think I’ll say anything. But if you want to pass the word that you and I talked, that wouldn’t step on anyone’s toes...or ego.”
“Gotcha! Take care, Grace.”
Grace hung up.
She chewed her bottom lip. No wonder Mica could be hypersensitive. His family had apparently been treating him with kid gloves since the accident. Though she knew they loved him and wanted the best for him, their coddling probably only exacerbated Mica’s feelings of ineptness.
She rinsed the dishes and then put them in the wood rack to drain.
She thought she now understood how Mica might be feeling. Bit by bit, Rafe was taking over more of Mica’s duties on the farm. As of last night, Gina had remarried, complicating Mica’s sense of pride at being his father’s heir. Even though Sam wouldn’t run the farm, as Gina’s husband, he was a figurehead. And of course, what Mica had found out about Gina’s feelings for Sam and for Angelo had made him question his memory of his father.
And she’d shown up with Jules in the middle of all this.
As she dried her hands, Mica walked in, pulling on his jacket.
“Where are you going?” Grace asked.
He lifted the LED lantern. “I saw some bricks out by the woodpile. Mrs. Beabots is getting cold, even with the extra blanket I put around her shoulders. Then I’m getting more firewood. We’ll need a lot to get us through the night.”
“Why bricks?”
“I’m going to put them in the fire, warm them, wrap them in towels and then put them under her feet. I’ll get one for you, too.”
She smiled. “How Victorian of you.”
“Thanks.” He winked. “I’m feeling a bit like a pioneer.”
“Can I help?” she asked and then stopped. This was just the kind of thing his family would do. They would assume he was helpless. That wasn’t why Grace had offered, but Mica might not see it that way. She held up her palm before he could answer. “On second thought, I’d better change Jules. I want to put a second sweater on him, too.” She pointed to the door. “You take care of the bricks and wood.”
Before he could answer, she walked away.
In the library, Grace saw the fire had waned. Mrs. Beabots was holding Jules.
Jules sneezed.
“Oh, goodness,” Mrs. Beabots said. “I think the house is truly getting a chill.”
Grace reached for Jules and took him in her arms. “It is. And Jules is just getting over something. Listen, I don’t want you going to the kitchen. And maybe you should use the bathroom now before it gets much colder. I talked to Sarah and she said they are fine next door, but there’s no word on when the power will come back on. Several transformers are out.”
Mrs. Beabots stood and pulled the blanket around her. “I’m going to get another pair of socks and my sheepskin slippers. Do you have anything like that, dear?”
“No.”
Mrs. Beabots looked from her dainty feet to Grace’s. “I have an extra pair, but I’m afraid they won’t fit you.”
“It’s okay. Mica is going to warm some bricks in the fire for our feet. We’ll be just fine.”
“Smart boy, that one,” Mrs. Beabots said.
“He really is.” Grace beamed.
Mrs. Beabots walked up to her, touched her cheek and said, “He chose you, didn’t he?”
Mrs. Beabots started to walk away, but before she’d left the room Grace asked, “Why do you keep saying that? Mica and I—we’re an accident. Something that shouldn’t have happened. Jules is—”
Mrs. Beabots whirled around, the blanket falling in a whoosh from her shoulders. “Don’t say it, Grace Railton. Don’t you dare say it. Jules is an angel. A gift to make things right.”
“Make what right?”
“Why, you and Mica, of course. You were meant to be. Any fool can see that.”
Grace stared at her. “You’re wrong. We’re an ocean apart, and not just because I live in Paris. You know how demanding the fashion world can be. How competitive and difficult. Mica lives here in this quiet, peaceful place that I wish I loved enough to give up my life in Paris for. But I can’t. I won’t. I’ve worked too hard. We are so different...” Grace felt the ache in her heart rip through her body. As much as their different lifestyles were an issue, she knew that wasn’t truly what was causing her pain. She loved Mica and he would never love her back. He had a responsibility toward her and that was all.
“I think he’ll come around,” Mrs. Beabots said.
“No. He won’t. He doesn’t want me.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes,” Grace admitted, feeling her blood turn to ice water. “Oh, he asked me to marry him, but not because he loves me. He doesn’t. He wants Jules to have both parents, for us to be a family, but only for practical reasons. Mica believes we should sacrifice for Jules’s sake the way his parents sacrificed for him and his brothers.”
Saying it aloud only made it worse. And terrifyingly real. She realized in that moment that she’d come to Indian Lake because she’d actually thought Mica would confess that he’d loved her since that first kiss in the pool. She wanted to say “yes,” but she also could not live a lie.
“Then I’ve been mistaken,” Mrs. Beabots said. “I’d thought better of him than that.”
* * *
MICA LAY ON the floor with Jules on his belly, throw pillows propped on his left side in case Jules rolled off. Grace had curled next to him and put her head on his chest. With his right arm around Grace, she snuggled closer to him by the hour.
Mrs. Beabots slept on the Victorian sofa behind them, a warm brick at her feet with three blankets and a mink coat over her. She slept soundly.
The fire was nearly out and Mica knew he’d have to disturb both mother and child to throw a few more logs on. Just not yet.
This night had been an idyll he never could have imagined. Not since before the accident had he felt this needed, or that his presence and contributions were necessary to the lives of others. True, their circumstances were not as dire as they could be, but the old Victorian house, with its high ceilings and noninsulated windows, allowed the heat to dissipate in minutes.
It was well past four in the morning when he finally rose to stoke the fire. He checked the wall thermometer Mrs. Beabots had placed in the hall just outside the library. The house was forty-nine degrees. Bone-chilling, but not deadly, as long as he kept the library warm.
Mica continued to heat bricks and rewrap them for Mrs. Beabots and Grace. They stirred in their sleep. Only once did Grace awaken.
All she said was “Come to bed.”
His heart cried out with an unfamiliar yearning.
He slid back under the blankets, pulled Jules onto his warm stomach and held Grace close.
She didn’t say another word.
The accident had turned Mica’s world upside down, and he hadn’t felt like himself since. But tonight, he reveled in a sense of belonging he hadn’t even experienced as a child. The happiest days he could remember had always been tinged with the feeling that he was an outsider. But maybe he simply hadn’t appreciated his parents and brothers as much as he could have back then.
Mica was by no means the misfit of the family. That title went to Nate, who had run away right after high-school graduation to join the navy so he could save up for medical school and pay for it all on his own, without their father footing the bill. Gabe was also headstrong and independent. He had left the farm to become a vintner and marry Liz Crenshaw. Rafe had stayed, yet even his first love was Thoroughbred racing. That and Olivia.
Then there was Mica. He’d only ever belonged to the land and to the machines and engines he repaired. He’d never traveled or extended himself beyond what he knew and loved. And he’d always drifted away from people.
Yet, here tonight, he was part of a family. He was filled with an emotion so strong, he could hardly swallow. Mrs. Beabots had been a friend nearly all his life, but right now, he thought of her as the grandmother he’d never known.
He regretted his knee-jerk reaction when Grace had first shoved his son into his arm. Everything about his baby brought a warmth to his heart he’d never felt before. He loved Jules, and Mica would spend the rest of his life telling and showing his son exactly that. And Grace...
Grace was both integral to this family and an obstacle to keeping it together. Mica didn’t know how he would convince her, but if she wouldn’t marry him, then there had to be another way for them to be together.
Mica would find it because he knew now he was no longer a drifter. He could be the father Jules needed.
He would make it permanent.
With or without Grace.