A Kingsbury Collection

by Karen Kingsbury

  Today there would be only Jake.

  That same morning, a thousand miles away, Leslie Maple was studying Paul’s words in the book of Romans, but she couldn’t get Ellen out of her mind. She had wrestled with whether to call Ellen or not. Years had passed since they had talked last, and Ellen might not feel like talking so soon after her father’s death. Especially to someone she hadn’t heard from in so long. Leslie wasn’t even sure she had Ellen’s Miami phone number.

  She tried reading the Scripture before her again but it was no use. All right, all right, God, I’ll do it. It’s been a long time, but I need to call her. Maybe this afternoon. She felt a sense of urgency at the thought. Then again, maybe right now.

  Leslie shut her Bible, found her address book, and thumbed through it. She remembered that, because of her position as reporter, Ellen still used her maiden name. She found the B section and scanned the page. There it was. Ellen’s number in Miami. She was probably already gone, back home in Petoskey for her dad’s funeral. Leslie thought of how Ellen and Jane had sometimes fought. If she were already gone, then she would be dealing with more than her father’s death.

  Poor Ellen. Leslie’s fingers flew over the buttons. Please let me catch her, Lord. Let me pray with her before she goes to face her family.

  Mike was on his way out the door when the phone rang. He lunged for the receiver. “Hello?”

  A woman’s voice responded, “Oh, I’m so glad I caught you in time.”

  Mike frowned. What on earth? “Who is this?”

  “Leslie Maple, Ellen’s friend from high school. I just heard about Ellen’s dad the other day and I’m so glad I caught you before you left for Petoskey. Can I talk to her? Is she there?”

  Mike glanced at his watch and knew he had to leave. He had only stopped home between assignments to change clothes. “Ellen left a few days ago. You can reach her at her parents’ house. I can get the number for you if you’d like.”

  Silence. Then, “She went by herself?”

  Mike’s gaze drifted to the kitchen table and the unopened Bible lying there. Guilt seemed to be coming at him from all directions. “Yeah. Hey, listen, I’ve got to get going. Did you need that number?”

  “No. No, that’s all right. I have it. I was just hoping to pray with her before she left. How was she? Before she left, I mean? Did you guys get a chance to pray together?”

  Mike sighed. The questions couldn’t have been more probing if God himself had called. “No, not really. It all happened kind of fast, I guess.”

  There was a short silence. “When are you leaving, to join her?”

  “The funeral’s Saturday, if that’s what you mean. I have to work this weekend so the plans are kind of up in the air.”

  Silence again. Apparently Leslie thought as much of that as Ellen had.

  “Well, then. I guess I’ll try to catch her at her parents’ house. Thanks.”

  “Sure thing,” Mike said. “Thanks for calling.”

  Leslie hung up the phone and took a moment to consider all she had just learned. Ellen’s father’s death had been sudden, no doubt leaving Ellen grief stricken. In the wake of the shock, she and her husband had neither prayed together nor taken the same plane to Michigan.

  Which meant Ellen was back in Petoskey surrounded by her siblings, frustrated by her husband, and without a friend in the world.

  Years may have passed since Leslie had last seen Ellen but some things did not change, and she knew that if things got too painful, too tense between Ellen and her family, too lonely without Mike, there was only one person she would turn to.

  “No,” she whispered aloud. “She wouldn’t think of calling him. That was years ago.”

  Out of nowhere Ellen’s heartfelt prayer that Sunday afternoon so long ago came back to her. “Jake is my strongest weakness, Leslie. Pray for me. Pray that we stay away from each other.”

  Suddenly she knew what she had to do. She picked up the telephone and dialed a local number. “Hello Martha, this is Leslie.” She drew a calming breath. “I have an urgent request for the prayer chain.”

  20

  Jake and Ellen parked in the lot at Shepler’s Ferry and blended with a throng or tourists headed for the dock. People from all over the country came to Northern Michigan to see Mackinac Islands seventeen hundred acres and eight miles of shoreline. Ellen had always appreciated the islands historical background. She and Jake picked up a brochure as they boarded the boat.

  “I didn’t know Mackinac was founded in 1715,” Jake said idly. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the boat filled quickly with tourists headed toward the island.

  They continued to read. Mackinac had at different times served as a fur-trading station, a military post, and a summer home for the East Coast elite. Cars were not permitted and travel was done one of three ways: on foot, by horse, or by bicycle. As they read, Jake strained to see over Ellen’s shoulder. Occasionally, their elbows would touch and one of them would pull slightly away.

  They sat on the boat’s upper deck and laughed as the wind pulled at their hair and stung their eyes. The ride was exhilarating, and fifteen minutes later the boat docked along Mackinac Island’s main thoroughfare.

  Dozens of fudge shops and other specialty stores lined Main Street. At the end of the busy strip stood the famous Fort Mackinac, where an 1880s unit of American Soldiers once guarded the straits of Mackinac from enemy forces. The buildings had been restored to look as they had a century earlier, and authentic shooting demonstrations took place throughout the day on the quad.

  Most of the tourists stayed on the main stretch, browsing through shops, eating fudge, and touring the fort. The remaining seven miles of island shoreline was relatively free of people. Jake and Ellen rented two bicycles and set off toward the quiet side of the island.

  “Remember that time we were riding this path and that kid walked out in front of you,” Ellen turned sparkling eyes toward Jake. They were out of the city and, other than an occasional cyclist, there was no one else around.

  “He didn’t even look. Just crossed the path right in front of me.”

  Instead of running over the child, Jake had ridden off the path and tumbled down a rocky embankment toward the water. His knee was skinned raw in the resulting fall.

  “Still have the scar?” Ellen locked her elbows, enjoying the wind in her face as she steered her bicycle around a pack of tourists.

  “Yup. It’s faded, but it’s still there. My battle with a bicycle.”

  They laughed and rode on, side by side leaving the tourists behind them. The deep blue water spread out a few feet to their right and a forest of evergreens towered to their left. It was easy to feel at least a little of what the early settlers must have felt: like they were the only people in the world.

  “Life must have been hard for the people who lived here a hundred years ago.”

  “They didn’t have fudge shops, that’s for sure.” Jake raised a teasing eyebrow and Ellen’s heart soared.

  On the heels of that elation came a Scripture verse flashing across her mind. Proverbs 4: “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.… Make level paths for your feet and take only ways that are firm. Do not swerve to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil.”

  Ellen swallowed hard. She stared at her feet and the firm, level path before her. Somehow she didn’t think that was what the Lord meant by those words. I’m not doing anything wrong, she protested silently. After all I’ve been through I deserve at least this.

  They rode nearly three miles, then pulled into an alcove and parked their bikes. A stretch of sandy beach lay just in front of them, hidden from the bike path by a thicket. Jake cast a questioning look toward Ellen.

  “Ready for some sun?”

  “If you don’t laugh.” She brushed her fingers quickly over his tanned arm. “Some of us work too hard to have much of a tan.”

  “Ellen! I’m surprised at you,” Jake teased. “Living in Miami and missing
out on the beach life. Maybe you need a vacation.”

  It was not yet ten, still too early for anyone else to have discovered the private beach. They found a spot near the shore and lay their towels side by side.

  “It’s beautiful here.” Jake walked back toward the bicycles. He wore red swim trunks and as he walked he stretched and slipped off his T-shirt. Next he grabbed a miniature ice chest from his bike basket and carried it down near their towels.

  He smiled, tossing her a bottle of suntan lotion.

  “Do my back?” He turned around and positioned himself in front of her.

  Ellen snagged the lotion and stared down at it. What am I doing here? Alone on an island beach with Jake Sadler, about to rub suntan lotion onto his back?

  She drew a deep breath and slowly released it. Don’t let your paranoia run wild, she chided herself. It’s just a day with an old friend. She squeezed a handful of cool, creamy lotion into her palms and rubbed them together. Then, like a hundred times before, she rubbed it across the width of Jake’s shoulders.

  “Mmmmm,” he said. “That feels good.”

  Ellen blushed. She wrestled with her emotions and she was thankful they were on a public beach in broad daylight, even if there wasn’t another soul in sight. She continued to rub in the lotion, moving her hands in tight circles down the center of his back and toward his waist. His muscles flexed beneath her touch and Ellen noticed chill-bumps along the base of his neck.

  He turned around then and his gaze caught hers. For a moment their eyes spoke a hundred things that neither of them was ready to say. He cleared his throat and took the lotion from Ellen’s hands.

  “Your turn.”

  Ellen stared at him, then looked down at the lotion in his hand. An image of those hands rubbing the lotion into her skin swam before her mind’s eye … and those warning bells that she’d managed to ignore for the last day or so were suddenly clanging so loud she thought she’d go deaf.

  Okay, okay, Lord. I get it. She gave a quick shake of her head.

  “No, thanks. I’m … uh, I’m not ready to take my shirt off yet.” Something akin to disappointment sparked in his eyes, but he just nodded and put the lotion away.

  They lay down on their individual towels, but Ellen couldn’t help being keenly aware of Jake’s nearness. Five minutes passed and Jake shifted. As he did so, his elbow ended up touching hers. Had he moved that way on purpose? And were his senses, like hers, completely focused on the spot where their skin touched?

  She closed her eyes and tried to listen to the gentle surf, tried to find a voice of reason within her. But there was no getting around the one pervasive thought that filled her mind: the chemistry was back, as powerful as ever, working on her heart and mind and soul. She tried desperately to think about Mike, but he seemed part of another life. The sun was warm, the breeze soothing. In all the world there was only her and Jake, side by side on a sandy, secluded beach on the distant shores of Mackinac Island.

  An hour passed and suddenly there was something freezing cold against her neck. She jumped and Jake grinned. In his hand he held a wet can of soda he had taken from the ice chest.

  “Come on, sleepy head. Get up,” he teased. “You’ll get sunburned. Especially with that working-woman white skin of yours.”

  “Ooooh!” Ellen stood up and adjusted her T-shirt. She grabbed a handful of ice cubes from the chest and ran after him. “I’ll get you, Jake Sadler!”

  She chased him toward the water and caught him just as he reached the shore. Grabbing his arm she rubbed the ice on his back and laughed when he arched from the chill.

  “Got you!” She grinned.

  He pulled away easily and she chased him again. Then suddenly he turned on her, picked her up by the legs, and moved unceremoniously into the water.

  “Jake! Don’t! It’s freezing.”

  He continued deeper into the lake, still holding her around her thighs, until the chilly water was up to her knees. She placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.

  “Tell me I’m the nicest guy who ever walked the earth,” he shouted into the breeze.

  “Ha! Name, rank, and serial number. That’s all you’ll ever get from me!” She was laughing so hard her words barely made sense.

  “What’s that? Does the prisoner dare speak against her captor?” He swung her precariously near the waves, threatening to drop her.

  “Jake, put me down!”

  “You got it.” He let go and she fell directly into the lake. When she came up her shorts and T-shirt were drenched and she was intent on revenge.

  “That’s it, you’ve had it!” She spit water and brushed her wet hair off her face. She reached down, cupped her hands in the waves, and splashed Jake as fiercely as she could until he, too, was soaked.

  “Now you’re gonna get it!” He retaliated, and the game was on. With an almost reckless abandon, they chased each other along the shoreline, teasing and splashing—and all the while Ellen kept desperately reminding herself that they were no longer young and in love.

  When they were exhausted and breathless, they lumbered through the warm sand and headed for their towels.

  “I’m freezing.” Ellen picked her towel up off the ground and wrapped her body tightly. They sat down together, and she tried to catch her breath.

  “Wimp.”

  Ellen kicked a bit of sand at him. “Not.”

  For several minutes they were silent, enjoying the sun as it soaked through their freezing bodies. A group of noisy cyclists passed by on the path above them and then disappeared into the distance. There were dozens of small private beaches lining the shores of Mackinac Island and the one they’d chosen remained empty otherwise.

  “Makes me wish we had a blanket and a backgammon game.” Jake pushed his bangs off his forehead, pulled his knees up to his chest, and turned to face Ellen. He dropped his head onto his arm and stared at her.

  “We had fun, didn’t we?” She turned and gazed at the horizon as she tousled her hair and pushed it off her face. She refused to look at him, afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

  “More than fun.”

  She nodded absently, busying herself by searching for the suntan lotion and reapplying it to her pale arms and face. He watched her the entire time.

  “Good idea. I could use some of that.” He reached for the bottle and touched her hand instead.

  She nearly gasped. “Jake, I—”

  He gave her a bland look. “I just want you to rub some more lotion on my back.”

  She nodded, feeling foolish for making more of his actions than he intended. She did as he asked, this time as quickly as possible. When she finished she handed him the bottle.

  “Okay, Barren, get yourself up and let’s play a little Frisbee.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a white plastic disc.

  Ellen was thankful for the distraction, thankful they hadn’t discussed the feelings she knew had come alive again between them. She stood up and ran down the shore until she was positioned just right.

  Jake tossed the Frisbee in her direction and she snagged it expertly, returning it to him in a single motion.

  “You haven’t lost your touch,” he shouted. “Try this one.”

  He flung it into the air so that it hung on the breeze and floated gently toward her. She ran forward, concentrating on her timing. Then, just as she was about to pull it from the air, Jake picked her up around her thighs and threatened to dump her in the water again.

  “Jake Sadler! Come on. I’m still cold from last time.”

  “Tell me I’m king of the beach!” He laughed and swung her precariously near the water.

  “Not on your life!” She flailed at him, jabbing him beneath his upper ribs and trying to push herself free.

  “Tell me I’m the handsomest man in the world!” He spun her around in the shallow surf, and she could feel the cold water on her feet.

  “Get real!” She struggled harder, laughing at the same time.

 
Suddenly he stopped. With deliberate slowness, he lowered her in front of him. He placed his hands tenderly on either side of her face and his voice was soft when he spoke again. “Tell me you still have feelings for me, Ellen.” His eyes searched hers and he wove his fingers into her hair.

  “Jake … ” She was having trouble breathing, and tears filled her eyes as she looked into his. Breaking the connection, she hung her head, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “Jake, I can’t.”

  There was silence for a moment, then Jake stepped back from her. “I know. I’m sorry.” Ellen saw from the look in his eyes that the apology was sincere. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Sometimes I think you know me better than anyone,” she said, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “What do you see when you look into my eyes?”

  He spoke quietly, studying her face. “You still feel. For me.”

  She nodded. “A part of me will always love you. But that doesn’t change the facts, Jake. I’m married. It’s wrong for us … for me.”

  “Don’t say it, Ellen. I understand. I was wrong to push it.” He reached out as though to touch her cheek, then let his hand fall to his side, a crooked smile on his face.

  Ellen fought a sob. “I love my husband, Jake.” At his steady look, she shook her head. “I know, I know. I called you. I agreed to come here with you. I … I don’t know why. I wanted to find something, to feel something.” She met his gaze again. “But I can’t have some cheap affair on the beach while Mike thinks I’m here mourning my father’s death.” She moved away from him, angry with herself as she trudged toward her towel. He followed and they sat together in silence.

  “Okay, then,” Jake sighed and his sad smile nearly broke Ellen’s heart. “Tell me about Mike.”

  Ellen drew a deep breath and stared at the endless deep, blue waters of Lake Michigan. It was colder and more intense looking than the Atlantic, and Ellen realized how much she had missed it. The breeze was stronger than before and clouds had formed in the west, blocking the sun.