Tiny flakes of snow blew into the car as she drove. Why couldn’t Dad be supportive of what Jeremy was trying to do? And why did he have to keep pestering her about college? There was a baby growing inside her. An actual human child. She had a lot more important things to worry about than higher education. How dare he insinuate she married Jeremy because . . . what? She was sad about Mom and desperate for comfort? Is that what he thought?

That couldn’t be true.

She swallowed.

Could it?

When she reached the turnoff that would take her to her grandparents’ house, she hesitated. It should’ve been a no-brainer to head in their direction if she was seeking solace. In the past, Grandma June would know exactly how to make Bea feel better. A cup of hot cocoa. A sympathetic ear. An offer of a trail ride, maybe. But what would Bea find if she visited today? She didn’t know if she could handle being called Caroline or being asked to leave.

She stayed on Pass Creek Road. What would she say to Grandma and Grandpa anyway? She could never explain why she was so upset. Her hormones were raging out of control. Sobs welled up in her throat, only to be followed by laughter.

She was going crazy.

The flakes flying into the car grew thicker. She rolled up her window and glanced around. She’d been driving with her eyes pinned straight ahead, caring only about the road in front of her and the memories behind. Now she fixed a wary eye on the sky. Those clouds were heavy with snow. What was already falling was only the beginning. Not another soul was on the road. She checked her phone. No service.

This was foolish. She was nuts. Jeremy would be worried sick when he got home from church in—she consulted the clock on the dash—twenty minutes to find her gone. But she wasn’t ready to go back. She pulled up in front of the Pass Creek schoolhouse and put the Toyota into park. She needed to get ahold of herself.

She leaned her head back against the seat and took a deep breath. In through her nose, out through her mouth. And again.

What if Dad was right?

A figure passed by the passenger window, and she snapped upright. No one should be out walking right now. She leaned forward and peered out the windshield at the back of a wiry, elderly person marching resolutely forward as if late for work. It looked like . . . was that . . . ?

She flung open her door and scrambled from the car. “Grandma.”

The woman did not stop.

Bea raised her voice. “Grandma June.”

Grandma paused for a moment and cocked her head, then continued on. Bea dashed after her, cold snow stinging her face.

It was just her, Grandma, and the mountain.

TWENTY-FOUR