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Chapter Twenty-Three

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Since he’d received a call that the felt underlayment couldn’t be delivered until late that afternoon, Saul had taken the morning off and headed out the hacienda grounds, eager to take a walk around the valley, and also do what he’d promised Winnie he’d do for the tourist booth she was so keen to run in Hopeless. Molly had gone into town to see how the open day plans were coming along, since a dozen of the able-bodied younger men in the valley—along with some of the older, more resilient residents, men and woman—were busy building a dog park and child’s play area.

The air had even more of a storm-brewing cloyingness today. If luck was on his side, that underlayment would definitely get here today so he could make a start. He figured he’d get it up and onto the roof frame by the end of tomorrow. His last day. If not, then he’d stay until it was done since no tiler could tile until that underlayment was in place, along with fixed battens on the steeper section, so the guy had something to fix the lip of the tiles onto. But truth was, he felt it best if he worked hard to get the job done by the end of tomorrow as planned.

She’s not on her own. He reminded himself of that for the hundredth time that morning. The reminder didn’t help. Yeah, she had her family and her people, but he wanted to watch this progression. He wanted to see her green eyes light up when the tiler finished the roof. He wanted to hear her laugh on the day her business opened, and see her smile when she greeted her first clients.

Then what would he do? Leave her? It was unlikely he’d stay, he wasn’t capable of that sort of commitment. Not because he didn’t want to commit but because...

He no longer knew why, but his gut instinct was driving and his gut told him he wasn’t the staying kind.

He took his focus back to the land he was walking. There were plenty of natural tracks in the valley backcountry. Most needed some clearing, but it wouldn’t be too hard a task, especially as they’d begin by keeping them natural. Eventually, when they got enough money—or if they went into some agreement with the state park to allow access to and from the canyon with off-trail exploration, they could create dedicated pathways and include picnic tables and scenic barriers.

He stopped walking on what he’d called Mother Nature Loop in honor of Marie, and pulled out his map and his compass. He hunched down, and on another map—one he was drawing for Winnie and her Calamity Valley tourist booth—he drew a basic topographical configuration of what Mother Nature Loop offered in terms of views, the distance it covered, and what skill sets were needed to walk it.

The loop was divided on the southern end by a trail he’d named Witch’s Walk. He figured Alice would like the pun, since it was a tricky trail to navigate. It would give the grandmothers an extra blast of notoriety.

He wished he’d met Wild Ava and Mad Aurora, but they hadn’t been around Hopeless, and nothing much was said about them. He’d have liked to meet Molly’s cousins too. Although meeting more valley residents only meant he’d have more goodbyes to say.

His hand-drawn map wasn’t detailed, but there was enough for a hiking expert or an experienced park ranger to understand and follow.

He made a few additional notes for Winnie about the flora and fauna expectations, the state of the tracks, what they could be like in the future, then checked his hand drawn map again.

He’d given a number of walks in the valley a name, not that he expected anyone to adhere to his suggestions. It was more his way of showing his appreciation for the people he’d come to know.

The hardest track he’d called Solomon’s Trail, then crossed out his name and just left it untitled. It ran from Hopeless to the hacienda and out toward infinity. He marked it as a probable backpackers trail and noted it needed to be walked by an experienced hiker and navigator before it went up on the tourist route. No-Title Trail was his favourite walk and he’d always think of it as his, even though it wasn’t.

On a whim, he returned to the heading, scribbled out No-Title and called it Wilderness Trail. If they ran with that name, it would always be associated with him. Not that anyone but Saul would know that, but one day he’d have Wilderness Hiking—wherever it would be. Probably Colorado now, because he didn’t want to be in Texas. That would be too close to Molly, and he couldn’t convince himself he’d leave her alone. But with Wilderness Trail here in the valley, he’d know he’d left a little bit of himself in Texas. And with Molly.

He had a lot to thank her for. Unbelievably, she’d shown him the way out. The way forward. Or maybe it was the way back. Back to accepting his family. Whichever, he’d been in his own wilderness when he arrived in the valley, and he would be leaving it a better man for having visited.

His heart warmed as he reviewed his map. Little Hands Picnic Spot—for Winnie. Guard Lookout—for Davie. And one for Molly. The scenic one with plenty of photography and picnic stop-offs. He’d called it Forever Green Trail.

He stood and shoved his paperwork, the map, and his compass into his backpack. You’re getting carried away here, buddy. They’d forget about him in a week.

He retraced his steps down Mother Nature Loop, trying to bury his thoughts about Molly and how much he wanted to hold her. Just hold her. Yeah, the sex act would be amazing, he had no doubt, but he wanted his arms around her. He wanted to know the simple expression of appreciation would reassure her and help settle her nerves about this new business venture, and how it had all gotten way too big too soon because of the developers and the need to get the ball rolling. He’d been wrong when he’d told her to settle down and think. She had done all that, or rather, she’d managed to do it on the run while everything spun out of control around her. With each new and necessary amendment, she’d moved forward, not once taking her eye off the end goal.

It was odd, too, that he hadn’t met the developers. He’d kept a lookout for them, half expecting to come across some paunchy looking little bald man in a shiny suit, poking his nose around the hacienda. But no one from Donaldson’s had turned up. He guessed Marie was keeping them at bay, somehow. Molly had done a lot to stave off their interest, too, with her expansions on the open day, let alone her business.

Still, he had a prickly feeling about Donaldson’s. They’d be back. As soon as they found another avenue to follow in order to tempt the valley residents to sell up.

Molly would undoudtedly be nervous about that, but she needn’t be. She was handling things. She could do this, was doing it. Without his help. But he still wanted to hold her. He wanted to help her. And he could do neither.

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“Listen up, Spark.”

Molly straightened from her kneeling position. “I’ve done it. Stop yelling.” She pulled at the underlayment on the section she’d been nailing into place while Saul dealt with the wood battens up on the steeper section of roof frame. “Look!” she called up to him, pointing at her handiwork. She’d missed a bit earlier, and it had been flapping around, but now she’d fixed it. “It’s all tucked in. It’s overlapped. It’s nailed—two inches from the edge. It’s perpendicular to the lower edge of the roof. Just like all the other ten foot sections I’ve put in place today.” She’d just missed an end piece of one, that was all.

She paused. Her back was sore from bending. Her knees were sore from kneeling on the rough wall and the hard rafters.

Saul unfurled to stand, legs wide, each foot on one of the secured rafters. “Stop being so sparky.”

Easy for him to say. Once the underlayment had arrived late yesterday afternoon, they’d worked until sunset. They’d been up this morning before dawn and as soon as they had enough light, they’d been up on the roof, covering the frame with the waterproof underlayment. Fifteen hours of hard slog, all up, with hardly a break. In this heat—and what was it with this humidity? There were surely laws about this. Health and safety regulations or something. Knowing her luck, someone would discover she’d been working her contractor too hard and take her to court for employer negligence.

“Spark? Something wrong?”

She craned her neck to look up at him and eased down a little from the tension of hard work and intent. He looked glorious. Standing on the steep edge, balanced on the rafters beneath the underlayment. Hot and exhausted-looking, dusty and dirty, and sexier than ten male Hollywood stars put together.

“Be careful up there!” she said. “And don’t call me ‘Spark’.”

“I was just going to say,” he said with exaggerated patience, “it’s done. It’s finished, Molly. You did it.”

Molly let this sink in. She glanced around her, wonder filling her. The roof frame was covered and secured. Saul had calculated the placement of the wood battens up on the steepest section, and she’d helped by handing them to him.

“I can’t believe it,” she said quietly, a mixture of extreme pleasure and exhausting sadness overwhelming her.

Suddenly, the sky turned broody gray all around her and the cloying heat felt damp and heavy, like big hands dragging at her.

“Looks like we’re just in time,” Saul called. “Luck was on our side, for once.”

A chill ran down her spine and all her senses stood on end. Senses she didn’t even know she had. Somewhere in one of those senses, there was a warning.

She furrowed her brow and looked up at the sky as the first fat raindrops hit her face.

“We have to get off here,” she said, her voice pitched low, and as strong as her abrupt fear. She blinked, and looked for Saul. “Be careful!” she called, a hand outstretched. Don’t let him fall.

“What’s up?” he asked.

He made his way down the roof.

“Be careful!” she called again as thunder cracked above them. She looked up at the sky again and slowly but purposefully rose to stand. Don’t do this.

“Molly?” She heard Saul’s voice calling to her but it was a dreamlike echo in her head.

Don’t do this. She stared at the sky. This is crazy. This is not real.

“I don’t believe in you, do you hear me?” she yelled. “You have no power here.”

“Molly—what the hell are you doing?”

“Get lost!” she yelled, louder now. “Leave us alone!”

Alice’s presence filled her just then. Alice’s calmness. Her steadiness. She heard Alice’s voice. Stand firm, Molly.

Molly spread her feet wide enough to brace herself. She had no idea what was going on inside her, but some super force was telling her what to do.

A splintering sound brought her out of her shock and she snapped her head to the right.

“I’m all right,” Saul said. “Just slipped.”

Molly gasped. His foot had gone through a section of the thick underlayment—and he hadn’t slipped.

“See?” he asked, pulling himself upright. “I just slipped.” But the look on his face told Molly everything.

“How many times have you just slipped since you’ve been here?”

He didn’t answer but his features were now set in a fixed, unyielding way as he stared at her.

Lightning struck high above them, creating an electric show in the darkening sky.

“They want you!” she called to him. “They’re going to hurt you, to get at me.”

“Come on.” He made his way toward her, moving steadily and carefully. The rain was already running in rivulets down the underlayment. “We need to get down, Molly.”

He was coming to help her, but she didn’t need it. “Get off the roof. Now.” She wasn’t backing down. No way. Whatever was happening she knew one thing—this was a standoff.

Saul stepped behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Come on. It’s okay. I’ve got hold of you. I won’t let you go. You’re not going to fall.”

She heard the concern in his tone, but he didn’t realize the physical harm was coming to him, not her. She turned to face him, her chest touching his, her chin tipped up as she looked into his eyes. “It’s you they want to hurt.”

“Let’s get you down to the ground and let’s get you down safely.” His eyes bored back into hers, his mouth set in a determined line.

Molly nodded, understanding hitting her. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”

A fleeting change of expression gave her the answer.

“This is the curse,” she said. “They want to hurt us but I won’t let them.”

“This is heavy stuff, Molly.”

“You feel it.”

“Yes,” he admitted, looking reluctant about having agreed with her.

Thunder cracked and Molly shivered. He took a firm hold of her arms.

“I told you we Mackillops were different,” she said, feeling tears sting her eyes and the rain wash them away before they hit her cheeks. “I didn’t want to believe in this curse before but now I have to.”

“We’ll talk about it when we get you down.”

Molly took hold of the T-shirt at his sides and clutched it. “Kiss me,” she told him. “Kiss me now. Here. Up on the roof.”

“Molly—”

It was the only way to show them. Goddamn them. This was a Mackillop place. This house. This roof. This town. This valley.

“It’s real,” she told Saul, her voice entreating him to listen but without a whimper in its tone because she was no longer succumbing to fables and hearsay. “This is real, Saul. They’re around us. They haunt us.” She licked her lips, tasting rain. “I’m not crazy.” Her sensory perceptions hummed and sizzled. In her head, in her psyche.

“You’re not crazy,” Saul said, his tone unwavering but his voice was raised because of the thunder and the pounding rain. “It’s okay, come on. We’re going down. I’m going to get you down.” But she saw his fear and knew it was for her, not for himself.

“No,” she said firmly. “You’re going to kiss me. Now.” She could do it, she could reach up and kiss Saul, but that wouldn’t work. It had to come from him. “I’m going to show them they can’t mess with me or mine.” It didn’t matter that Saul wasn’t hers and never would be, it was the mental synergy between Saul and her that the great-grandfathers would feel. It was the fact that a Mackillop woman wanted a man to stay in the valley. That was what they’d hate.

Stand firm, Molly.

“Now,” she demanded.

His eyes raked over her face, a frown on his brow, then he jolted hard, wincing as his head flew back—as though he’d been socked in the jaw.

She clutched harder at his shirt.

“Jesus,” he said. His body juddered and the tremor shook Molly too.

“Do it!” she told him.

He looked at her, his gaze darting between her eyes. “You scare the pants off me, Mackillop.” He took her in his arms, dragged her closer, lowered his head, and kissed her.

Thunder and heaven arrived at once. A tumultuous beat inside her, like birds soaring, eager to be gone from the cliff edge after being shackled and caged. A white glare from lightning filtered behind her eyelids and the charge of the psychic attack on them faltered, as though it had been flayed with a whip and ripped to shreds. Oh, Alice—is this what you feel? Is this how it happens?

As Saul kissed her, holding her tight, Molly fought hard to keep her mind on the reason for the kiss, and not on the sweet pressure from his mouth and the tough and protective feel of him. Or maybe by allowing appreciation of the man holding her into this new world that had descended upon her, she was using every force within her to fight the badness. Next to Saul like this, embraced by his arms and the strength of purpose he carried so easily and naturally, the vehement possession around them slipped.

She felt the caress of a hand over her head, and although it was Saul’s hand, she also felt the hand of another, soft and caring, gloved in Saul’s. Her great-grandmother.