by Cara Putman
As he dodged foot traffic on the way to Man O’ War, Jonathan whistled a Michael Buble tune—one of Jaclyn’s favorites. When he walked through the restaurant’s door, he scanned the dining room for Jaclyn. Often she arrived first to claim a great table for them, but he didn’t spot her. He approached the hostess.
“How many?” The gal spoke with a slight accent, one he couldn’t place, but she blended with the numerous international students who found summer employment on the island.
“Two.”
“Yes, sir.” Another sign she wasn’t a native, or she’d know his name. “It’ll be fifteen to twenty minutes.”
He gave her his name and accepted a pager. Guess he had a few minutes to wander, though she warned him the pager had a limited range.
He strolled Main Street and watched for Jaclyn. Her tight red curls were the kind that made a man want to tease them with his fingers. Though she’d sent every signal she wouldn’t mind, their relationship tended toward friendly but inched toward romance. Her son accepted him with enthusiasm on picnics and bike rides. That had felt like enough.
Before Alanna returned.
He wasn’t sure how that impacted Jaclyn.
Jaclyn bounced into him. “Hey there, handsome.”
“Jaclyn.”
She lifted her cheek for a kiss. He obliged, wondering why their customary greeting felt odd. He couldn’t let Alanna get to him. It wasn’t fair to Jaclyn or him.
He forced his attention to the beautiful woman in front of him as Jaclyn chattered about her day. When the pager vibrated, he pointed her to the door.
“Sorry I didn’t get here earlier.” She tossed her curls. “It’s a big weekend at the Grand. Everybody wants special treatment. The phone didn’t stop ringing all day.”
“Thanks for squeezing in Theresa.”
“Anything for you, Jonathan. You know that.”
The way she said it with stars in her eyes made him feel small. She gave every indication she’d fallen deep—despite his efforts to proceed cautiously. Where her adoration used to make him feel bigger, stronger, tonight it made him question what kind of man he was. He shouldn’t vacillate. A real man committed for the long haul. One glance at Jaclyn showed she thought he had. Leave it to him to lead a great gal along while his heart remained secretly entrenched with another.
Hie hostess led them to a table under the big plate-glass window. Jonathan pulled out the chair for Jaclyn and then angled his away from the window.
“I’ve filled the air. Your turn. How was your day?” Jaclyn plopped her elbows on the table and then her chin on her hands as she studied him.
“After you helped me with a nervous bride, I worked on her special day and planned another.”
“I’ll never understand how you find so many concepts.”
“Lots of magazine subscriptions.”
“Are you serious?”
He straightened the silverware. “That and files. My mom and dad kept everything. That gives me lots to work from.”
“They’re talking about you at the Grand.” Pride showed in her eyes.
That was great news. Prospects from the hotel could fill his calendar.
She frowned, the expression uncommon. “You don’t seem excited.”
“You didn’t see my smile?” He grinned widely. “That’s really good news. Tell them thanks.”
“You can do it next time you come to see me.” She batted her eyelashes.
“Sure.” He leaned back and glanced around the restaurant. Where was their server? A young man in a white shirt and black pants caught his eye and threaded tables toward them.
“What can I get y’all to drink?” A southern accent tinged his words as he slid a basket of warm sourdough rolls between them.
After taking their drink orders, he disappeared, and Jonathan found himself looking at Jaclyn. Tightness etched around her eyes.
“Was there somewhere else you needed to be tonight?”
Jonathan shook his head. He adjusted his stance in the chair,
leaned toward her, and grabbed a piece of bread from the basket. He tore it into small pieces as he studied her. “Guess I’m distracted.”
“You think?”
“Tell me more about your day.” The meal flowed quickly with the server sliding salads in front of them, soon followed by sandwiches. They waived off dessert and stood to leave.
Jaclyn waited in front of him, a question in her eyes.
Regret pierced him. “Sorry about tonight.”
“At least you paid.” While he could tell she meant it as a joke, there was truth to her statement. He hadn’t given her the attention she deserved, but he’d paid.
“Promise next time I’ll be a better companion.”
“All right. I’ll give you another chance. Join me for a picnic at Arch Rock on Memorial Day.”
“I have a wedding.”
“The day before then.”
He could squeeze in time then. “I thought it was one of your busiest days.”
“Nothing I can’t have someone else cover for a couple hours.” Her expression wavered as she swayed from side to side, her skirt swirling around her knees in a slow dance. “Please? We miss you.”
“All right.” The image of her son with eyes the same color as hers confronted him. It had been awhile since he’d seen Dylan. “We’ll do something Sunday afternoon.”
Jaclyn rolled her eyes, but the smile had returned. “See you then.”
She turned to head up the street toward the Grand Hotel. His gaze followed her until it slammed into Alanna’s. All of a sudden he felt as if she’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t. That was ridiculous. He needed to get her out of his head.
Make that his heart.
He spun on his heel without acknowledging her.
Right now he needed to put distance between them. As quickly as possible. Not an easy feat on the small island with their cottages next door to each other. He stopped when he realized he couldn’t get home this way. He had to pass her if he wanted to sleep in his bed. Muttering under his breath that he was a fool, he reversed direction and headed toward her. He’d cut up the street as soon as he could, but he had to get his bike or it would be a long walk home. A long one that provided too much time to berate his foolish, rebellious heart.
14
Alanna’s thoughts swirled as she strolled Main Street. She should head home, should have hours earlier. Mom’s e-mail had informed her Daddy had taken a turn for the worse, and Alanna had to stay longer. Mom simply couldn’t return to the island without Dad. Each time she’d tried to reach Mom, voice mail was all she heard. Now her thoughts strayed to that awful graduation party while she wandered the streets.
Without Grady’s death, she would have skipped law school. All the years of study she would have invested in something else. Something closer to home. Returning left her wondering whether she had wasted so much time for nothing. She certainly didn’t feel fulfilled. The rush of winning a case wore off much too fast.
Someone bumped into her, and she pulled her attention back to the busy sidewalk. “Brendan?”
“Lookie here. It’s Miss Alanna. Imagine bumping into you twice in one day.”
“How are you? I’m kind of surprised you’re still here. All that talk of leaving.”
“I’m on the mainland. Just came back for the party weekend.” His breath smelled of alcohol as he grinned. He’d had as much to drink as any of the kids at the graduation party. A leer creased his face, one Alanna hoped came from the alcohol. “It’d be great to catch up, but I’m off to see a girl. A pretty one. One you know.’
“Who?”
Brendan ignored her as he moved down the street, looking far steadier than she expected. A mumble reached her. “Enjoy the surprise.”
Must be the alcohol talking. Certainly made no sense, but in her short interactions with him, Brendan didn’t shine in that area. She wondered how he managed to sell any insurance with that surly personality.
She glanced up and spied Jonathan on the sidewalk a hundred feet or so in front of her, standing very close to a cute twenty-something. Jaclyn?
Electricity fairly crackled in the space between them. As she watched, Alanna remembered the times Jonathan had eyes only for her. She’d left so much behind all because of that tragic graduation party. Why had everyone been so quick to blame Trevor—and by extension her—when most of the island’s teens had turned out for the celebration-turned-tragedy?
Her phone vibrated against her hip, but she couldn’t pull her gaze from the two. Not as she saw what had been her future play out in front of her.
She turned on her heel and stepped away. Any appetite she’d had disappeared in the vision before her. Who was she kidding? She’d dated other men, one even seriously, since leaving. Jonathan had to do the same.
She’d read too many fairy tales. Too many stories of Prince Charming waiting for the perfect woman. Even hunting for her. Jonathan had certainly never bothered to do that.
One call, that’s all she needed then. She brushed moisture from her cheek as she rushed up the sidewalk toward the white clapboard library and narrow beach behind it. The sun had lowered in the sky, and she told herself she’d watch it set behind the lighthouse.
She stumbled when she hit the rough pebbles of the beach, nothing like the sand beaches near the oceans or even at the Dunes in Indiana. She slowed her pace, extending her arms as if walking a tightrope. That’s what her life had become. Drained from the trial and media assault, she’d driven to the island, braced against the thought of what waited. Now she could add the pain of Jonathan’s nearness to her concerns about the paintings.
What had happened to the simple time in the studio her mother had promised? In and out in a few weeks, a couple of months at most, with no problems. Instead, everywhere she turned she encountered a challenge. She thought she’d prepared for the season, but now she wanted to run as fast as she could, abandoning the island and all it held.
A cool breeze blew off Lake Huron, sending a shiver down her arms and back. She hugged her middle and hunkered down on the beach. Small whitecaps teased the shoreline a few feet away. The last few years had felt quiet, almost docile outside of courtroom tussles. Now she wondered if it only felt that way because she stuffed all her real emotions so far beneath the surface she hadn’t recognized them.
Anger over her brother’s treatment? Ignored.
Fear over returning to Mackinac? Shoved to the side.
Questions about how her family could remain? Oblivious.
For someone who was known for her strength, shed lived a deluded life. Sheltered in her Grand Rapids condo, working for a hard-driving firm, she could pretend she had everything she needed. After all, she had a handful of girlfriends and the occasional relationship.
Now it all seemed as shallow as the water lapping the shore. She didn’t have a single person she could call to share her concerns. Even her roommate would wonder at the sudden attempt at intimacy. Conversations moving from “It’s your turn to clean the kitchen” to “I think my mother is committing art fraud” didn’t happen every day.
She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She glanced at the sky. Watched as God painted stripes of vibrant color across the clouds. A rich salmon chased magenta, turquoise, and violet. She needed to get up, start moving. If she didn’t, she’d have to find her way home in the dark. She could do it, but with the way her thoughts wandered, it wouldn’t be a good idea.
Her gaze traveled the length of the vista. Sometimes it was hard to believe the God who created such beauty on a cosmic scale cared about the details of her life, but she prayed He did.
If He didn’t, she was lost.
Memorial Day weekend started with ferry loads of tourists. The population on the island exploded with those who needed a dose of relaxation. Alanna spent Friday ringing up orders and answering questions. By the time she hiked home, she could hardly move. Her body was used to sitting all day, not the up and down of running a retail shop followed by an uphill bike ride.
All she wanted was to sit down on the dock with a good book until the light got too dim to read. She turned the bike into her drive then slipped off it to park it in the shed. The key dangled in her hand, useless as the shed’s door slid open with ease.
Hadn’t she locked it that morning? She must have, since it was part of her routine. She might have left the big city behind, but she hadn’t abandoned her habits. Even from this remote location, it begged trouble to leave the door unlocked.
She stared into the shadow-encrusted interior. Should she go ahead and push the bike in or run for help?
Don’t overreact. She’d feel ridiculous if she ran next door only to find nothing wrong. But if she didn’t and something was wrong in that dark space. . .
She shook off the thought. “This is ridiculous.”
Her words filled the silence but didn’t settle the creepy crawlies on her back. A whine that sounded like a cat’s screech came from inside.
Alanna dropped the bike and backed away from the shed. She spun on her heel and hurried toward the house. The broken pansies lining the paving stones that connected the house and shed almost stopped her. What had happened? Someone or something had trampled the flowers and unlocked the shed.
After fumbling to unlock the back door, she rushed into the kitchen and called Jonathan.
“Alanna?”
“Do you have a flashlight?”
“Flashlight?”
“Yes.” She nodded then felt like a fool. “Something’s wrong in my shed.” He yawned, and Alanna wished she hadn’t called. “Never mind.”
“I’m coming. Give me a few minutes.”
Alanna hung up and filled the teakettle. It had started to hum a shrill tune when Jonathan walked in the kitchen. He wore khaki shorts that had more holes than fabric and an oversized Michigan State sweatshirt. His hair looked rumpled and his face tired.
“Did I wake you?”
“Don’t worry about it. I thought I’d get ahead of the weekend. Won’t sleep much between now and the wedding.” He hurried to the stove and picked up the kettle. After setting it on a cold burner, Jonathan turned back to her, his green eyes probing. “What’s wrong?”
Biting her lower lip, Alanna grabbed a couple of mugs from the cabinet. “The shed was unlocked when I got home.”
“Happens.”
“I always lock up.”
“Always? Even here?”
She nodded. “I’ve seen the worst in people. And tonight it’s confirmed. The plants along the path are broken like someone stepped all over them. And the shed. . .”
“There had to be more than it being unlocked.” He studied her like he knew she wouldn’t be that kind of woman. The one who panicked at every sound or event.
“It’s too dark to see what’s in there.”
Jonathan hefted the flashlight and flicked it on. She squinted against its light. “Bright enough to penetrate any dark corner and hefty enough to knock out any lurkers.” His tone was light, yet he didn’t laugh at her concerns. “I’ll go check, and you can wait here.”
“No way. I want to see.”
He shrugged and headed out the door. Alanna flipped on the back-porch light then hurried to catch up. The crickets had started their evening music, filling the night with a sweet melody. Against that backdrop, her earlier fear seemed blown out of proportion. Then a shrieking wail filled the night. She hurried forward and collided with Jonathan. He let out an uhf the flashlight fell from his hand, clattered to the ground, then blinked out.
Jonathan’s arms slipped around her. “Steady there.”
She stilled, a flood of electricity zipping through her. A longing to stay right where she w
as warred against the need for space—lots of it. Jonathan dropped his hold and stooped to collect the flashlight. He thwumped it against his thigh, and it sputtered to life. “That’s better.”
She nodded, even though she disagreed. She’d felt safe while he’d shielded her. Now she felt foolish and alone.
Jonathan hurried to the shed and stepped inside, and she watched the light play across the entrance.
“Lanna, stay back.” His words pulled her forward even as his command pressed her back.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing I want you to see. Go back inside.” She hesitated, and he must have seen. “Go.”
“No, this is my home right now. I need to know what’s going on.” She tried to look around him as he stepped from side to side, anticipating her moves. “Let me see.”
“You don’t want this in your mind.”
She hesitated another moment then pushed around him. A trap of some sort had been slid into a back corner. In its clutches writhed a young rabbit, weakly trying to escape. “Who would do something like this?”
“I don’t know. Please go inside.”
Alanna glanced at the rabbit once more then spun on her heel and hurried back to the kitchen. She rummaged through the cupboard for tea bags with shaking hands. Her dad never set traps. He might complain about the rabbits and other animals that chomped at his plants, but he’d never use something like that. So how had it ended up in the shed? Someone must have purposefully placed it there. Why?
Did she want to know even if she could find out?
She shuddered and prayed for peace while waiting for Jonathan to rejoin her. Heaviness weighed his face as he came inside. She handed him a mug of tea.
“Thanks.” He took a sip without looking in the cup and then spewed his mouthful across the table. He swiped a hand across his mouth. “What is this?”
“Mint tea.”
Jonathan set the mug on the table. “No thanks.” Concern shadowed his eyes as he looked at her. “I’ve got a call in to the police. Not sure when they’ll get here. I don’t like this, Lanna.”
