Page 59 of Beacon

My face twists, and my body shakes briefly with a deep surge of emotion. “I wish I could.”

“Okay,” he says, sliding his big hand down the length of my hair again. “I didn’t think so. I’ll drive you tomorrow so you get there safely.”

I press a kiss on his chest. “Thank you.”

The following day, Mack and I make it through the border region with only some minor trouble. We have to backtrack and go far around a large group camping out directly on our route, and we have to shoot back at a couple of bad-tempered travelers we encounter. But we make it through, and eventually we’re crossing the rolling hills and pastures that lead to the farming community.

Everyone is supposed to meet up at the Carlsons’ farm by tomorrow.

When we get to the big farmhouse, it looks normal. Obviously most of the others haven’t arrived yet. There are no extra vehicles, and Maria and her crew aren’t camping anywhere nearby.

Hopefully plans haven’t been changed in the past six weeks while Mack and I have been out of touch.

The first people we see are Chloe and Jimmy. Jimmy is working with a long machete-type knife, apparently pruning some trees off to the side in the front yard. Chloe is seated on a big tree stump near him, and she has something in her arms.

“Oh look! She had her baby.” I’m grinning as Mack slows down and turns up the driveway.

Mack angles across the grass toward the couple, and they see us almost immediately.

Chloe jumps to her feet, clearly excited, and Jimmy puts down his machete and wipes his face and beard with his shirt sleeves.

They’re both smiling as Mack puts our vehicle in parkright near them. I jump off and hurry over so I can peer at the baby in Chloe’s arms.

“He’s Samuel. We call him Sammy,” Chloe says, beaming between me and Mack. “He’s twelve days old.”

“He’s amazing.” I want to snatch Sammy so I can cuddle him, but I restrain the impulse. She might not be ready to pass her baby off to just anyone. So I’m almost giddy when Chloe hands him over to me without hesitation. I cradle him. “Look at those chubby cheeks!”

“He’s a big boy and a good eater. Everything went really well with labor and delivery.” Her arms now free, Chloe launches herself at Mack in a hug. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Mack hugs her back, smiling but still slightly withdrawn. “I can never thank you enough for letting me use your grandpa’s cabin.”

“I’m so glad it was there when you needed it.” Chloe glances up at Jimmy, who has been listening to the conversation with interest. He’s a good-looking, competent man with brown hair, brown eyes, and brown beard, and he very clearly believes that Chloe and his new son are the best things to ever exist in the history of the world. “Jimmy and I are happy for you to use it for however long you need it.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

I can’t help but focus down at the baby in my arms. He’s a happy little fellow, gazing up at me with wide eyesand babbling wordlessly. I jiggle him and do some baby talk, delighted when he seems to smile.

After a few minutes, I glance up to discover that everyone is watching me. “Sorry,” I say. “I got distracted. You can have him back.”

“Oh no! He obviously loves you, and I could use a break.”

Jimmy adds, “Y’all must be tired. Come on to the house and see my folks. They’ll get you settled.”

We agree and follow them up toward the farmhouse. When I’m finally brave enough to glance over at Mack, I catch him watching me strangely.

I’m usually pretty good at reading Mack’s feelings, but I have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking right now.

Ben Carlson, Jimmy’s father, is working out back, but his mother, Greta, greets us with her typical friendly efficiency, explaining that we’re the first to arrive today and so we get our choice of their guest bedrooms.

“You two can have the nice one,” she says, striding down the hall of her house without waiting to see if we’re following. I have to hand off Sammy to Chloe quickly so I can catch up. “Unless you’d prefer the bunk rooms for some reason.”

“Oh.” I peer into the pleasant, old-fashioned room with its four-poster bed, big window, and red-and-whitequilt. “This is lovely. But we don’t need the best one. I’m not even sure if Mack is going to?—”

“I’m staying the night,” he mutters gruffly, clearly speaking to me and not Greta. “I wanna hear the plan.”

He meets my eyes, and I understand what he’s implicitly communicating. There’s something protective, almost possessive, in his expression and the set of his shoulders. He’s not intending to participate, but he wants to know the details of the plan so he can ensure that I’m not put into unnecessary danger.

It touches me and makes me anxious at the same time.

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