“What do you mean?”

Things had been strained between her and Jeremy since Sunday, but she needed to talk to someone about Grandma June’s unsettling words.

“She kept talking about how she needed to find someone. How he must be wondering where she was. I asked if she meant Grandpa Rand, and she said yes, but I don’t think that was it.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure.”

Bea paused as they reached the end of Mule Deer Road and looked up. The stars were starting to come out, flickering into view one at a time as the sky darkened.

“I’ve never seen so many stars,” Jeremy said.

She’d missed them. The glare of the city lights had hidden all but the brightest stars and turned the blackness of night into a yellowish haze. Here, she could see every level of intensity, from the piercing light of a neighboring planet to the soft glow of the most distant star. The degrees of light gave the sky both dimension and depth. It reminded a person of how small they were in the grand scheme of things. And how big God was.

Bea stared at the great swirls of distant galaxies and thought of the snow swirling around her and grandma on the mountain. “She kept saying she would never forget.”

Jeremy stood close, his arm touching hers. “Forget what?”

“Her baby? I don’t know, it doesn’t make sense. I tried to get her to tell me about Miner McGee, and she said her baby would’ve liked that story.”

“Do you think she was confused about what year it was? Like her mind had taken her back to when your dad was born? And since there was no baby in her house, she could’ve thought something happened to him.”

“Maybe.”

“That could explain why she took off like that. She was just being a good mom.”

Bea shivered, the cold catching up to her now that they had stopped walking. “What about saying she would never forget him? She sounded so sad.”

“It’s strange all right.” Jeremy lowered his chin so the high collar of his jacket covered his mouth. “Your dad never had any siblings?”

Bea shook her head. “Unless . . .”

“What?”

“I don’t know, maybe she lost a baby once. Like a miscarriage or something.” Her gloved hands found their way to her belly, and she swallowed hard. “A lot of women delivered their babies at home back then. Anything could’ve happened.”

“That would make sense.” His jacket muffled his words. “And it wouldn’t be surprising for her to fixate on a memory that traumatic. Maybe your dad knows something about it.”

“Maybe.”

“We could ask him. Or I could do a little digging online. It’s amazing what you can find out on the internet.”