She sat on the plaid love seat along the wall near Grandma’s rocker. It was the color of wild roses and amber sunsets. She watched Grandma rock back and forth, white spots appearing on the knuckles of her hands as she gripped the arms of her chair.

“Do you want to go to the kitchen for some lunch?” Bea asked.

Grandma rocked. Bea stuck her hands under her legs to keep from fidgeting.

“It’s almost Christmas,” Bea tried again. “Uncle Ken’s coming to visit, remember?”

Nothing. Bea studied her closely. It wasn’t that she seemed sad necessarily. People with dementia often suffered from depression, but Grandma was just . . . somewhere else.

“I know you’re in there,” Bea whispered.

Her heart felt the sting of loss—there’d been a lot of that the last few years—but she didn’t sink into it. Wishing couldn’t change what she had or didn’t have. Grandma had taught her that. So she didn’t wish her mother were here. Didn’t wish Grandma would speak to her. Recognize her. She just sat and tried to be thankful Grandma seemed content.

After a few quiet minutes, Bea leaned over to look outside, too. To see what Grandma was seeing. The Bridger Mountains crowded the window, somehow still startling in their immensity and closeness even after twenty-one years of looking at them. Did Grandma miss her old house? Did she wonder what had happened to her? Did she recognize the mountains even when her brain held no memory of Bea’s face?

Another twinge, the tiniest of movements deep in her core, caused Bea to sit up straighter. There was no mistaking it this time. Warmth flooded her chest and spread.

She was going to be a mom.

“Once upon a time, there was a man named Miner McGee,” Bea said.

Grandma stopped rocking. Bea licked her lips. She hadn’t meant to do it, but the story came tumbling out.

“He’d spent his life traveling the country, searching for treasure, but never struck it rich. And that’s what he wanted more than anything. To strike it rich. Eventually, his travels brought him to Moose Creek on the first day of winter. The same day the town was buzzing with a fantastical rumor.”

Bea would never be able to tell the story like Grandma, but she couldn’t help giving extra emphasis to Grandma’s favorite word. Grandma still wouldn’t look at her, but Bea swore she leaned a little closer.

“The rumor told of the enormous Big Sky Diamond hidden away on the mountain,” Bea continued. “Miner McGee couldn’t believe his ears. He’d waited his whole life to find a treasure like that. So he stocked up on supplies, strapped on his headlamp, and headed up the mountain.”

The hair on Bea’s arms stood up. Grandma was looking now. Peering intently into Bea’s face.