Cottage by the Creek

by Elizabeth Bromke

  “Yes,” Amelia gushed, falling to the ground with him. “Where did you get this?” she whispered as she marveled at the dainty piece of jewelry, her heart pounding.

  “This was my mother’s wedding ring. And her mother’s before her. And now, I hope it’ll be yours.”

  Amelia frowned. “Michael,” she hissed. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure about what?” He chuckled and slid the ring onto her finger. “The ring or the proposal?”

  She closed her eyes, and her dad came to mind. Or what she could remember of him. A good dad. A good husband.

  And despite that, he still didn’t stay.

  Would Michael?

  “Sure about…” Amelia’s brain turned to mush, and she looked down at the ring again. They had commonalities. They had talked about this very thing. A legal arrangement. A vow.

  And yet—did he really know what he was getting himself into? Did he know that men usually broke up with Amelia? That she was flighty and unmoored?

  “I’m sure about everything, Amelia. I’m sure about this. I’m sure about us. I’m sure we can find your dad if that’s what you want, and you know what else?”

  Tears stung the corners of her eyes. “What?”

  “I’m sure that whatever happened to Wendell, he never meant to leave you and your sisters. Or your mom.”

  “How do you know?” Amelia managed as tears washed down her cheeks.

  Michael pulled her up to her feet and cradled her head in his hands, holding her close and speaking softly. “Because no man in his right mind would ever leave you.” He leaned away from her and stared hard into her eyes. “Amelia, I’m sure about you.”

  And the funny thing was? Maybe Amelia’s dad wasn’t in his right mind. And maybe most of her life, Amelia wasn’t in hers either. But being home and having Michael… it occurred to her that, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t looking for a new role. A better one. A new stage. She had everything she needed right here and now.

  “Michael,” she whispered back. “I’m sure, too.”

  Chapter 37—Clara

  “Where is there to go on Lake Huron?” Clara asked Jake as she settled onto the rubbery bench in the back of his boat.

  Jake grinned and pushed off the dock, untethering them.

  And that’s exactly how Clara felt each time they were alone. Untethered. Before Jake, that feeling had only come after her mother had passed away. The free-floating sensation back then, however, was tainted with a dark void, naturally.

  With Jake, though, the unknown thrilled her. Clara wasn’t certain she wanted to become someone else. But she was certain she wanted to be with someone else.

  “Are you kidding me? Where is there to go on Lake Huron—haven’t you been out on the water?”

  Clara shrugged and gripped the edge of her seat as they propelled off.

  “You’re in for a treat,” he called, speeding up. The wind clouded her hearing, and she squinted into the impending sunset. They didn’t have much time before it was dark, which was just as well. This wasn’t a swimming date or a diving one. Not even dinner on the water, like with the ferry. It was a simple jaunt across the gentle waves. If all went well, maybe they’d extend their evening together.

  He cut straight across and toward Heirloom, and Clara wondered if he wasn’t also taking the opportunity to swing into the bay there, where the girls were enjoying a fun evening of their own. Vivi had invited Mercy and Sarah for a game night with their dates from Homecoming. As it turned out, Sarah declined, having her own plans with other friends.

  This had given Jake a lot of anxiety, he confided in Clara. Yes, he knew that Mercy and Vivi would make good decisions and be safe. But they were only freshmen. A date night near the water made him a little nervous. But then, that’s what being the father of a teenager would mean from there on out—weekend nerves.

  Clara lifted her voice. “Are we swinging by Matt’s?”

  Jake threw his answer over his shoulder. “Nope. Just taking a loop around the Island. There’s something I want you to see on the other side.”

  She smiled to herself and closed her eyes, wrapping her cable-knit blanket more snugly about her shoulders. Cooler temps had fallen across Birch Harbor—early, some would say. But coasting across the water as the sun sank down below the lake was nearly frigid. Or perhaps it was Clara’s body temperature, bracing for some sort of impact.

  They wrapped around the north side of the Island until she lost all sight of Birch Harbor.

  “You must be freezing,” Jake remarked, killing the engine. “Here, I’ll join you.” He made his way down the short distance to the bench.

  Clara stood to move over, her knees weak. A shiver shook her body. Could it be a fever? But once they sank back down together, and he ran his hand up and down her back, warmth returned.

  By now, kissing was an expectation. Clara’s expectation, that was. Jake’s too, it seemed. She leaned into him and wrapped him in her blanket as they drifted loosely yards away from an unfamiliar shoreline. The boat rocked with them, and after some moments, Clara leaned away, studying his features. Was this the face of her boyfriend? A stranger? Someone she would be waking up with years from now? Someone to grow old with? Half of her was certain it was. The other half felt like a silly girl playing with a Magic 8 Ball.

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?” The question fell out of her mouth, and she wished she could pluck it from the air and pop it back inside, swallowing it down until perhaps the fifth or sixth date.

  He smiled and eased his hands onto her lower back, clasping them there and steadying her. He glanced to the Island and drew his hand, indicating a barren space of shoreline. “As a matter of fact, that’s where I see myself.”

  Clara squinted across the water. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I want to build a house on the Island and live there. Tide pooling is great over on this side. I could have a little dock. Mercy can come visit me when she’s in town during her college breaks. It’s my dream.” He looked back at her.

  “So, you want to stay in the area, then? No moving back to the suburbs?” She was pushing her luck, she knew.

  But he shook his head. “No way. I want to be here. On the water. Besides, this is where Mercy and I have made our life. Sure, we miss how things used to be.” His face darkened, and he glanced away.

  Clara’s breath hitched. This was it. This was the fear she had about dating a widower. A single father. He had a life outside of hers. A past. A hole in his heart that the likes of Clara Hannigan could never fill, no matter how fun she made herself or how much mascara she wore or how good a kisser she was.

  She was old enough, though, to have a good answer. The right answer. Something that reassured him and validated him and set a new hope on fire for both of them, perhaps.

  But all she could come up with was, “I miss my mom, too.” As she said it, she cringed inwardly. Losing Nora was a complicated tragedy for Clara. But feeling bad for such an admission was wrong, too, so she just flapped her hands up and down on her thighs, her blanket falling from her shoulders.

  Jake reached around her and pulled it back up. “You and Mercy have that in common, I suppose.”

  She blinked away an errant tear. There was no way it was good for Jake to see her in his daughter, or vice versa. She had to undo that somehow. But how could she? If the fact of the matter was that Clara had something in common with her date’s daughter, she couldn’t simply say No, we are nothing alike. But still, didn’t Clara want to be a woman? A strong woman with a strong heart who was nothing like a teenager? “Well, I guess that’s why we get along so well.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Agreeing was undoubtedly making matters worse.

  “I love that about you, Clara.”

  “What?” She frowned at him.

  He grinned. “I just mean that it’s nice to find someone who doesn’t mind that I have a daughter. That I have a past. That’s one of the hard things about losing Mercy’s mother. I wasn’t
sure if we could find a new way for ourselves, you know? A fresh start that didn’t mean we’d have to pretend like she was never alive to begin with.”

  It was everything she needed to hear and more. Because what Jake said was that it was okay if Clara was close to his daughter. It was okay if she entered their life. And maybe, he even needed someone like her in it. Maybe there was a chance for her to fill part of his heart. Even if that little hole stayed there, it didn’t mean that Clara couldn’t still try to help patch it.

  And maybe, Jake could help patch hers, too. After all, just as Clara could never replace Mercy’s mother or Jake’s wife, neither Jake nor Mercy could replace Nora. Or Kate. Or even the childhood that Clara felt so certain she’d missed.

  He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back in for a long, slow kiss, and when they came back up for air again, Clara wasn’t cold anymore.

  They rocked closer to the shore of the Island as he talked to her about his grand plans for a little beachfront cottage, and Clara smiled at everything he said. She couldn’t imagine leaving her own new home. Not anytime soon, and that took the pressure off.

  “Do you spend a lot of time on Heirloom?” she asked him as he set about driving them back into town.

  He nodded. “I come over a couple of times a week. Sometimes on the ferry and sometimes by myself. I’ve brought Mercy here, too. When we first came to town, I had looked at St. Mary’s for her. I thought it might be safer for a new girl. You know?”

  Clara studied the mass of land. As they skimmed along, she knew they were nearing the peppering of buildings that made up St. Mary’s of the Isle and its schoolrooms. She’d been there once or twice when she was younger. One time for a fundraiser. Another for a First Communion. “Why didn’t you?”

  “Why didn’t I enroll her?” he asked. She nodded. “I thought the teachers were a bit sharp. And Mercy didn’t need that. Not then.”

  Clara let out a breath. “Was Judith Carmichael one of those teachers? Did you meet her at one point?” By now, Jake knew all there was to know about the Hannigan family drama. He knew too much, probably. And there was no good reason for her to bring it back up, but there she was, bringing it back up. “Oh, never mind.”

  He smiled at her. “You know, I don’t think Judith is your woman.”

  Clara frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I can see that Amelia and Michael have pinned their hopes on Judith being involved, but I don’t see it.”

  “Why not?” They crested the far side of the Island, making their way back inland. A whole night lay before them. A night of potential.

  “Let me rephrase,” Jake said, easing off the engine and letting them coast past the landmass and back toward town. They were a hundred yards from the house on the harbor and the dock of Clara’s childhood. The one that wasn’t safe to play on. The one that Nora never used but was now occupied by Matt’s boat and another one. Maybe a friend’s. Maybe a guest’s. “Your sisters and possibly Michael think there was some sort of foul play, right?”

  Clara shrugged. She wasn’t sure what they thought. But yes, it was clearly on their radar that something untoward had happened.

  “But the police didn’t find signs of that, right?” Jake went on.

  “Well, that doesn’t mean anything. It was a long time ago. Maybe we haven’t found all of their reports or—” She stopped dead in the middle of her sentence. Images of the composition book in the bottom of the hope chest floated up to the surface of her mind, and she shook her head. “You’re right.” Swallowing, Clara forced herself to push them down. Not on their fourth date. She refused—outright refused—to derail their evening with a wild goose chase.

  Jake looked over at her. She had moved to the passenger seat, the chill returning as they neared land. “Anyway,” he went on, “whatever happened, it seems like things are settling. The event last night was awesome. Your sisters really know how to pull something like that off. Think they’ll ever host other types of events?”

  Clara dropped her chin to her chest and lifted an eyebrow at him. “What types?” In fact, yes. She had definitely considered the fact that if—and only if—Clara ever fell in love and chose to get married… well, now she had her sisters to help with it. She didn’t have to be afraid of eloping or dealing with an overzealous Nora. She could have a normal, happy occasion.

  “I’d love to put on a big Sweet Sixteen for Mercy one day,” he replied.

  Clara’s heart sank. “Oh, yeah. That would be fun. She might like it.” She shifted in her seat, tugging the blanket tightly around herself. They were closer now to the house on the harbor, so close that Clara could see in through the back kitchen windows. Matt and Kate stood there, their silhouettes ever recognizable in the glow of the sunset.

  When she looked back at Jake, he was frowning. “Oh, maybe I’m wrong. I mean, it’s a year away, of course, but she is shy and—”

  “I know Megan would love to put a party on for Mercy. Or any of the girls.” She tried for reassuring, and she tried to tamp down the notion that Jake would be thinking of a wedding on only their fourth date. This was where her youth and dreams collided into foolishness. She shook the thought and smiled back at him. “I bet we’ll have lots of things to celebrate, and my sisters would love to help.”

  His features softened, and he started to lean across to her.

  But just as their lips were about to brush, a ribbon of cold air cut between them. Clara opened her eyes, and Jake was peering suspiciously past her.

  She turned and looked back at the house. Matt and Kate were gone from the window. “What is it?” she asked, alarmed.

  “That buoy bell,” he replied, pointing into the inky water on the far side of the boat.

  She saw it in the growing dark, bobbing about like a lone ice cube. “What?”

  “Its light is out.”

  Clara squinted at it. “I never knew those things had lights.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll tell the office when we get in. No big deal.”

  Then he leaned back into her, all mundane issues melting back into Lake Huron as Clara and Jake kissed again. A fourth-date kind of a kiss. Familiar and hot, sumptuous. And Clara wondered if the very next event Megan would host wouldn’t be a wedding after all.

  Find out how the Hannigan saga ends. Order Bells on the Bay today.

  Don’t miss a release! Join my newsletter now.

  Also by Elizabeth Bromke

  Birch Harbor:

  House on the Harbor

  Lighthouse on the Lake

  Fireflies in the Field

  Cottage by the Creek

  Bells on the Bay

  Gull’s Landing:

  The Summer Society

  The Garden Guild

  The Country Club

  Hickory Grove:

  The Schoolhouse

  The Christmas House

  The Farmhouse

  The Innkeeper’s House

  The Quilting House

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you so much, Elise Griffin, for your careful eye and clever notes on how to best shape the penultimate story in the series. Sue Soares and Krissy Moran—thank you so much for your oversight and final touches!

  Diane Williams, Cami Williams, and Cyndie Shaffstall: thank you for your expertise on Chapter 23. I hope I’ve done the diving world just a smidge of justice. And if I have, it’s all thanks to you three!

  As always, my family and friends are such a huge support to me. Thank you all.

  My two guys and my sweet Winnie—all for you!

  About the Author

  Elizabeth Bromke writes women’s fiction and contemporary romance. She lives in the northern mountains of Arizona with her husband, son, and their sweet dog, Winnie.

  Learn more about the author by visiting her website at elizabethbromke.com.

 

 
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