Rogue's Revenge - By Gail MacMillan Page 0,4

ahead, obscured by the fog, the river thundered past, swollen with the freshet of melting mountain snows. Allison visualized its dangerous, swollen torrent. She remembered another springtime years earlier, when a gangly teenage boy had dared her to canoe its length with him. His challenge had earned her the only dressing down she could ever recall getting from her grandfather.

The tractor’s revving and roaring brought her back to the moment. Allison saw Heath backing its trailer up to a freshly dug grave beside a stone monument. She heaved a sigh. Soon, soon this will be over, and we’ll be on our way back to Toronto.

He parked with the back of the trailer at the lip of the yawning hole, cut the motor, and climbed down as Myra joined him.

“We made it.” Her mother put a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Heath.”

“Thanks aren’t necessary, Mrs. Armstrong,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“Definitely. Allison, come over here, please.”

While the two women stood side by side next to the trailer, Heath released the restraining straps, pulled out a pin to allow the trailer to tilt, and let the coffin slide into the grave. It stopped with a dull bump.

A sharp sob escaped Myra Armstrong, but she waved away Allison’s attempt to put an arm around her. Allison backed off and waited. She knew she’d forever remember the image of her mother, dressed in black, standing beside the open grave, head bent, eyes closed.

Heath, who’d been standing to one side, reached for a shovel stuck in the mound of earth beside the grave.

“Wait…please. I want to say a few words before you…” Allison’s heart ached at her mother’s request.

He nodded and stepped back.

“Come, Allison.” Holding out a hand, Myra Armstrong moved to stand on the brink of the grave. She paused and closed her eyes. Allison saw tears trickle from beneath the closed lids and slide down her mother’s cheeks.

“Join us, Heath,” she startled Allison by requesting as she held out her other hand.

“Yes, ma’am.” Heath pulled off his hat.

“Let us pray.” Holding both their hands, she bowed her head. “Dear Lord, please welcome Jack Adams as he welcomed all those who came to his door. Give him a place in eternity as beautiful as this land he loved, and let him share it with the woman who was his best friend and soul mate. Amen.”

“Amen.” Heath’s voice edging on a croak outraged Allison. Damn, he’s good at pretending he really gives a rat’s behind!

“Dad,” Myra startled her daughter by continuing while she held their hands. “Your wishes will be carried out. I’ll see to it. Rest in peace.”

As if in answer, a robin in a nearby burgeoning birch tree burst into song.

She released their hands and nodded to Heath. “You can begin.”

He pulled off his coat and was about to drop it to the ground with his hat, but Myra reached out to take them.

“Thanks,” he said. Their gazes met. Allison saw an empathy flash between them. What is going on here?

Heath pulled the shovel from the pile of earth beside the grave. The harsh sound of the first clump of dirt hitting the coffin in the misty hush of the meadow cracked the restraint she’d been mastering all day. He was really gone.

“Gramps,” she whispered. “Oh, Grampie.”

“Come along, darling.” Myra put her arm around her shoulders. “We’ll take a walk down to the river and let Heath do his work.”

Allison paused a moment to look at the man shoveling earth into the grave, feet braced, lean muscular body moving mechanically, easily, it appeared, through the heavy task. His lips were hard set in a grim line, a tick worked in his jaw.

Two-faced bum, putting on an act for my mother. Well, he’s not fooling me.

She started around the excavation toward the river. At the granite monument, she stopped.

“Maud Adams. Grandma. I didn’t know she was buried here.”

“She died in December of that year, you’ll remember.” Myra touched the stone. “You, your Dad, and I came for the funeral. The ground was frozen, so burial had to be delayed until spring. When the time arrived, your father had several serious cases he couldn’t leave, and you were deep in some kind of business merger. I came down alone. After cutting through mountains of red tape, Dad and Ethan Jarvis, the undertaker, had arranged for it to be here. At that time your grandfather had the monument erected and arrangements made to be placed beside her when his time came. Now come along,” she