“Give me the child,” Sarah Stone said, also appearing from the swirling light surrounding Jack’s dream. “Grand-père, how could you?”

“I didn’t pinch him! He just started in for no reason.”

The moment Jack’s mother cradled the baby to her bosom, the boy snuggled down with a contented sigh.

Jack looked around in awe. Five generations of Dreamwalkers were present, and his father and brother. How amazing was that?

Shadow Dreamwalker had died before Jack was born, but Jack had gotten to know his grandfather quite well in his dreams. One big happy family; except that they were all over there, and he was over here—alone.

He smiled at his eleven-year-old brother, Walker. It had taken Jack quite a few years to come to terms with feeling responsible for killing his family. It had been Walker who had persuaded him that all siblings engaged in petty fighting, and that their father’s stopping the car and making Jack sit under a tree in a time-out…Well, no one could have seen the accident coming. Fate, Walker had repeatedly assured Jack, did not lie in the hands of a nine-year-old boy.

Still, it was going to take more than a few imaginary conversations with his very dead brother to convince Jack that pacifism wasn’t the better path.

“It’s time to go,” Sarah said, gently rocking her grandson. “Megan is on her way back.” She smiled down at Jack. “I hope you saved her some lunch.”

“When will I see you all again?”

“When you need to.” Mark Stone leaned down and kissed Jack on the cheek. “You’ve found yourself a wonderful woman, son. Do whatever you must to keep her, even if it means getting beaten up a few more times.”

Forest harrumphed and stood up. “Megan MacKeage is leading you on a merry chase, and you’re letting her.”

“She earned that right, wouldn’t you say?” Jack countered. He lay back down on his jacket, laced his hands together behind his head, and gave his father a nod. “I’ll find a way to keep her.” He looked at his mother and winked. “Take good care of my son. You’ll have him to yourselves only for three and a half more months. Then he’s all mine.” He looked at his great-grandfather. “And he’s going to travel a peaceful path if I have to drag him down it myself.”

Forest Dreamwalker swirled his robe around himself with his usual dramatic flair, and vanished into thin air. Everyone else, with waves and cheerful good-byes, slowly turned and walked into the shimmering ether.

Smiling with deep happiness, Jack decided to continue sleeping, hoping to extend the memory of his son’s downy-soft skin pressed against his own.

Huffing and puffing with each step, Megan wondered how she’d gotten so out of shape. She was known for snowshoeing the full ten miles up and down TarStone Mountain in less than six hours, but today two miles in three hours was pretty much doing her in. The twenty-four pounds she’d gained in the last five months was obviously the culprit.

She was suddenly glad Jack had tagged along today; she was cold and tired and so hungry she could eat a horse, and the thought of returning to a cozy camp with a roaring fire and hot food was the only thing keeping her going. Though she knew she’d better not get used to it, that didn’t mean she couldn’t take advantage of Jack’s attentiveness for the time being.

She finally trudged into camp, only to find Jack asleep, the fire out, and the basket of food nearly empty. She bent over and scooped up a handful of snow.

“You throw that, you’d best be prepared for the consequences.”

“You ate all the food!”

“I saved you some,” he said, sitting up with a yawn.

“And you let the fire go out.”

“If you’re cold, I can warm you up,” he offered, patting a spot beside him.

“In your dreams.”

“You might enjoy my dreams,” he said with a chuckle, leaning forward to lace up his boots. “Did you find the deer yard?”

“No.”

“Are you sure this is the right area?” he asked, looking around. “There aren’t any cedar groves here.”

Megan plopped down on the snow and started unlacing her snowshoes. “There’s a large stand of it on the back side of the ridge, but the deer stripped it clean as high as they could reach several years ago. They must have found another yard.”

Jack pushed her hands away and finished taking off her snowshoes for her. He then unlaced her boots and took them off, then stood, scooped her up in his arms and plopped her down on his snowmobile suit. Before she could even yelp in surprise, he was already sitting down and putting on her snowshoes. “There’s a couple of sandwiches left, some crackers, and a full Thermos of hot cocoa,” he told her. “Why don’t you eat and then have a little nap?” He scanned the sky, then looked back at her. “We’ve got a few hours of daylight left. You mind snowmobiling after dark?”

“Why, where are you going?”

“To find your deer yard. You’re in no condition to drive without having a nap.”

Knowing he was right—though loath to admit it—Megan settled down on his jacket and rubbed her belly. “I don’t know what got into the baby a little while ago, but it started kicking something fierce. I actually had to stop and sit down on a log. But just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.”

Jack stilled, a funny expression on his face. “Just a short while ago?”

“Yeah. I swear the kid was doing somersaults.”

Jack crawled over and placed his hand on her belly, his eyes meeting hers. “Maybe he’s going to run away and join the circus when he’s ten.”

“Or she might become a ballerina,” she said, feeling disconcerted to have his hand on her belly.

“Will you mind much if we have a boy?”

“I won’t mind if we have a puppy as long as it’s healthy.”

That made him smile. Megan felt her insides flop—and it wasn’t the baby doing gymnastics this time.

“Then I vote we have a boy. Would you consider naming him Walker, after my brother?”

“You have a brother?”

Jack gave her belly an affectionate pat, then started stirring the fire, putting on twigs and coaxing it back to life. “I used to.”

“What happened to him?”

“It’s a long story, best left for another time.” He stood up. “Look, if you really are that hungry, I can bring back a rabbit.”

Megan stared up at him. Who did he think he was, Nanook of the North? “I’m not loaning you my gun.”

“I don’t need a gun,” he said with a shrug. “Eat your sandwiches, Megan, and drink a whole bottle of water. I’ll be back in less than three hours, I promise. There’s enough firewood to last until then.” He grabbed the blanket beside the pack basket and tossed it to her. “It’ll get chilly as the sun drops. Keep this close.”

“You need your jacket,” she said as he started to leave.

“I’ve got enough layers on. Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he called back with a wave, tromping around a thick stand of alders.

Megan blinked at the spot where he’d disappeared, then dropped her gaze to the food basket. For a man trying to win her back her affections, Jack Stone didn’t have any more of a clue how to go about it than Wayne Ferris had had. He expected her to survive all day on a box of crackers and two sandwiches? She’d packed five!

Megan stuffed her feet in her boots, tromped over to Jack’s sled, and unzipped his tank bag. She pulled out a map, a handheld Global Positioning System receiver, and a mangled candy bar. She pocketed the candy bar and put the other stuff back, then unzipped the right saddlebag.

Four long-neck brown bottles peered up at her, two of them missing their caps and obviously empty. She pulled out a full bottle, and snorted. “Beer. Had yourself quite a little feast, didn’t you?” she muttered, shoving it back in the bag. Something crunched in the bottom.

She reached down beside the bottles and pulled out an unopened bag of curly cheese puffs. “You bring beer and junk snacks, yet eat all the healthy food. I’m the one growing a baby here.” She turned and tossed the cheese curls toward the bed, then looked back in the saddlebag. Stuffed between the bottles to keep them from breaking were a pair of socks, a thick wool hat, and spare mittens.