My Way Home (St.Gabriel Series Book 1) (St. Gabriel Series)

by Cynthia Lee Cartier

  “I don’t understand what you see in her,” I said to him one night when he was helping me clean up the kitchen.

  Frank lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows.

  “Besides that.” I shook my head.

  “She’s fun.”

  “I bet.”

  “Look, Cam, we’re just hanging out.”

  “You’re forty-one years old, Frank, a little too old to be hanging out, don’t you think?”

  “No, I don’t,” he said and snapped me with a wet towel.

  While Frank and Dawn were sneaking off, Race and I noticed Janie was disappearing from time to time. Back in the kitchen again, Janie was helping me with breakfast and I asked her, “Is Jeremy working at The Willows Inn this summer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you been keeping in touch?”

  “Yes. It’s not serious or anything. We’re just friends.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  Janie took my face in her hands and I thought, Uh oh, what now?

  “I need to tell you something,” she said.

  “Okay, tell me.”

  She went back to chopping pecans and didn’t look at me when she let the cat out of the bag. “I’ve been seeing David.”

  Oh, boy.

  “He got a job in New York.” She stopped chopping and looked at me. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how could I get back with someone who cheated on me?”

  “You’re back together or just dating?”

  “Just dating.” She put down the knife and leaned against the counter. “Mom, please tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking I hope he doesn’t hurt you again.”

  “He’s apologized. You forgave Daddy. Doesn’t David deserve a second chance too?”

  I pulled out one of the chairs at the big kitchen table. “Okay, Janie Marie, sit down.” And I turned another chair to face her and sat down, knee to knee. I took both of her hands and told her, “Your dad and I had been married for twenty-five years when he left. He had been a good husband and a good father until that happened. When he wanted to make things right, I did give him a second chance because I felt the years we had been together earned him that. But Janie, if a man can’t get out of the gate without wandering, the chances that he’ll get through the rough times in a long term relationship are not very good.”

  “But, Mom, I still love him.”

  “Love isn’t enough, baby.

  Later that night I told Race about my conversation with Janie, and we both began to root for Jeremy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  A Good Pair

  Robert Browning said, “Youth is good, that middle age is better, and that old age is best.” I think Mr. Browning was a very smart man. Race and I walked into the lodge dining room and heard a chorus of “Surprise!”

  The room was filled with not only our family and friends who were visiting but our new family and friends from the island. Joel Morrison was there with his wife Julie and their three girls, as were Lisle and Kurt and Larry Meaks Jr. and his parents, and the whole Cummings clan. In the corner George was standing just feet away from Celia Alexander, who was standing next to her son James, who was next to Marni. Standing next to Janie was Jeremy from The Willows Inn.

  Hmm.

  They were all there to celebrate my fiftieth birthday a few weeks early. And at the front of the crowd, my best present of the evening, Sara Strauss. Standing in the dining room of our haunted lodge was my German soul sister.

  “When did you get back?”

  “Two days ago. Celia’s been hiding me at her place, Happy Birthday!” She gave me one of her swaying Sara hugs and then asked, “So when do I start work?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Completely.”

  I was overjoyed to have Sara back but when I saw Frank giving her more than polite attention, I was wishing she had come home a week later or that Dawn hadn’t had to leave the day before for a last-minute audition. Where was Dawn when you needed her?

  While dancing with Race, I was watching Janie and Jeremy who were sitting at a table with Race’s parents. And I had my eye on my charming brother Frank who was twirling my adorable friend Sara across the center of the dining room.

  Race whispered in my ear, “I feel your body in my arms but your mind is someplace else.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Let it go, mama bear.”

  “What?”

  “Frank and Sara, they’re just dancing.”

  “For now.”

  Sara is an eye gal and a bicep gal. Frank has big dark blue eyes and works out. Frank has a foot fetish. Although Sara’s toenails are sometimes wildly painted, she has very pretty feet. Fortunately, she wasn’t wearing sandals. But Frank is also an eye man, and Sara’s light-blue eyes are bewitching.

  This could be bad.

  I nodded toward our daughter and her friend Jeremy and asked Race, “That was your idea, wasn’t it?”

  “I told her she could invite him if she wanted to.”

  Jeremy fit right in. But I could tell he was more taken with Janie than she was with him and hoped that we weren’t setting him up for a fall. Later in the evening, Frank got to talking with James about flying and that kept him pretty occupied. A good ol’ pilot yabberbash, with two pilots in the room it was bound to happen.

  The next day we moved another bed and Sara into Rhubarb Cottage with Marni. Sara stepped right up to the plate and baked up a storm to the delight of our guests.

  “Oh my gosh! Sara, what is this?” asked Janie at breakfast.

  And I said to Janie, “Hey, what am I here, chopped liver? I’ve been slaving for over a week for this rabble and I haven’t heard one, ‘Oh my gosh!’ ”

  Sara looked across the table at me and grinned. “Sorry, friend, it’s a gift.”

  I thought we were going to finish out the week without any more Frank-and-Sara concerns. Then I walked out to the front porch of the lodge one night and saw the two of them walking up from the beach and over to Rhubarb Cottage. Sara was carrying her shoes and walking barefoot.

  Oh, no.

  I ran to the back of the lodge and to the kitchen window in time to see Frank say goodnight to her before Sara went inside. When Frank came up the stairs to go to his room, I was sitting in a chair on the landing, waiting for him.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean, Frank. What do you think you’re doing with Sara? And don’t tell me, hanging out.”

  “She’s a big girl, Cammy. I think she’s old enough to decide who she wants to spend time with.”

  “Frank, I love you. And in every way I think you’re a great guy, except when it comes to women. Please, don’t get involved with Sara.”

  “Cammy, I know you’re probably not going to believe me, but I really do like her.”

  “And this is something new? You like Dawn too, right?”

  “It’s not the same. I told you we were—”

  “I know, don’t say it, just hanging out. Does Dawn know that, Frank?”

  “Of course she does. It’s Dawn.”

  “I’m asking you, as a favor to me, don’t okay? Promise me.”

  “I can’t do that, Cam.”

  Our first guests checked out of The Lake Lodge and we loaded their luggage in the dray. Marni was waiting down at the front gate with the surrey. Frank was leaving and I was relieved, which made me feel guilty and sad. I hated saying goodbye to Paul and Janie, and Race’s mom was crying. Sara Strauss has it right, never say goodbye.

  As Loretta was about to step up into the surrey, she turned around and pulled me aside. “Cammy, I’m sorry for what I said to you, and you were right about what I was thinking, and I’m sorry about that too. It’s amazing what you’ve done here. I respect you as much as anyone I know. I think I get so wrapped up in what measures success in my life, I forget what
’s really important. I’ve never seen Marni so happy or you. Will you forgive me?”

  “I already had.” I gave her a hug. “I love you, Loretta Lee Scott.”

  “I love you, Camellia Lee Coleman.”

  That lifted some of the weight that was bringing me down. And then, as they pulled away, they all sang “Happy Trails” at the top of their lungs. Those people make me smile.

  It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours when Sara got a phone call from Frank, and I decided it may be time to do some more meddling. I found Sara standing in the middle of the cellar.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her.

  “I came down to get some flour.”

  “Sara, I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “I love my brother, but he’s not someone you want to get involved with.”

  She just stared at me.

  “He’s not a commitment kind of guy.”

  “You think I’m a commitment kind of girl?”

  “Sara, I don’t want him to hurt you. If you take whatever’s going on between you seriously, he probably will.”

  “How ‘bout I promise not to take it seriously. And you quit worrying.”

  “Fat chance.”

  “I know. But let’s just pretend you’re not going to, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I followed Sara back upstairs to the kitchen and I saw a new bag of flour on the counter.

  “You said you were in the cellar to get flour. What are you making a house of sponge cake?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Sara, what were you doing down there?”

  “Listening.”

  “For the ghosts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Cammy, you’re going to think I’m nuts, more nuts.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “My dad wrote me a letter before he died, but I didn’t read it until after he was gone. I hadn’t spoken to him for ten years. You and Race both heard something, if there’s any kind of…”

  “Sara, are you trying to talk to your father? Is that why you’re here? Why you’re living and working here?”

  “I know it sounds crazy. And I’m not saying I think I’m actually going to talk to him. But after he died… I’ve never lost anybody, Cammy. I was angry at my dad for a long time, but I loved him and I waited too long to tell him. Death feels so much more personal now and it doesn’t scare me anymore. Being here doesn’t scare me. When I was flying home, I was thinking about the Haustermans selling the bakery and then my dad dying. Maybe I was meant to be here. Do you think I’m nuts?”

  “Absolutely, but I’m the one who heard the voices. So we make a good pair, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Surprised

  My whole life had been in preparation for running The Lake Lodge—I believe that. There was nothing about the job I didn’t love.

  I loved meeting new people and having something to do with them leaving with another memory to add to their lives. Our guests were like family. We took them to the Independence Day fireworks and the parade, which was only a seven that year. It was following a pretty tough act though. We sat with them on the porch, eating homemade ice cream and talking about the island and the history of the lodge.

  I loved answering questions about St. Gabe, recommending places to see, and listening to the excitement of guests who came back from a long day of exploration. We took all of their pictures before they left and added them to our scrapbook. I could fill volumes with stories about our guests.

  I loved standing behind the front desk, checking in The Lake Lodge visitors and telling them what time breakfast would be served in the morning. I loved planning the meals and cooking for a crowd.

  Race had set up a computer system for guest bookings, but we still kept an old fashioned paper register that guests signed when they checked in. It was the same register with Cammy and Race Coleman, St. Gabriel Island, written on the first line of the first page. I loved looking at that register and reading the names and where our guests had traveled from to stay with us.

  I even liked making up the beds and getting the rooms ready for the next check-in. When clean towels were hung and the pillows fluffed, I would stand in the doorway and imagine how the guests would feel when they walked into the room for the first time.

  And I loved answering the phone and saying, “The Lake Lodge on St. Gabriel Island, how can I help you?” Booking another room for another date on our calendar filled me with a sense of accomplishment and anticipation. But as much as I loved wearing all my hats, our trial two weeks with our family made it clear we needed more help.

  I had advertised for a front desk clerk, but none of the respondents wanted to come for an interview when they found out where The Lake Lodge was. The college-age young people wanted to be downtown where the action was, and the older workers didn’t want to walk or ride a bike five miles to get to work every day.

  We did eventually get a call from a man who said he’d be right out for an interview. He showed up drunk, crashed a rented bike into the front gate, and then peed on the roses before he staggered up the hill toward the lodge. Race saw him from his study window and cut him off at the pass. We did not offer him the position.

  So Marni, Sara, Race and I managed the front desk from eight in the morning until eight at night. The rest of the time, we put out a sign with a phone number for emergencies. It was fun being the boss and making the rules. And the rule at The Lake Lodge was, This is not brain surgery. We’re just running a lodge, so let’s all try to relax and enjoy life. Most of our guests understood the rule completely.

  Another call did come in inquiring about the job. It was from Jeremy. He came out to the lodge and Race planned to sit in on the interview. I told Jeremy to take a seat at one of the tables in the library and we’d be right in. When I had Race alone, I reminded him, “This has nothing to do with our daughter.”

  “Sure it doesn’t,” Race said and grinned.

  I took Race’s hand and we joined Jeremy at the table.

  “You already have a job, Jeremy, why do you want to work for us?” I asked.

  “I’m ready for a change. And I like it out here.”

  Race smirked at me and then he asked Jeremy, “Have you thought about what The Willows Inn is going to do without you?”

  “There are plenty of people who want that job. Plus, I have seniority and the best shifts. The other employees will snap up my hours. I’m not going to leave them in a lurch.”

  “What about the ride out here?” I asked.

  “I live in an apartment in the center of the island. It’s almost the same distance it was for me to ride downtown.”

  It was really a formality. I had liked Jeremy the moment I first met him at The Willows Inn, and I had seen him in action. And just between you and me, I had thought about trying to recruit him before we opened. But I knew I couldn’t do that without it appearing that I was meddling. And clearly, I am a woman who tries not to meddle.

  Jeremy was perfect for the job. He knew how to run a front desk and brought some young blood to the place. Hiring him gave us all some time back, for more work mostly but also for some sunsets and some yabberbashing. The best part was that we found Jeremy and Race shared a love of books. I would find them both in the library and Race was doing what he does best, teaching.

  When I first met Sara and she was describing summers on the island, she said, “There’s a lot of coming and going.” And once it was reopened that was the case as well at The Lake Lodge. The north side of St. Gabriel Island must have been a little bit in shock.

  More guests came and went and our eight rooms were booked for most of the summer. Frank flew in from Alaska in his Cessna and took Sara to Chicago for three days. When she came home, I could see in her face she was breaking her promise. And our Gabey friends, who would rarely have ventured out to the north side of the island befo
re the restoration, stopped by often as did Celia and James Alexander.

  Our lives were full and, despite the sometimes hectic pace, Race and I were closer than we had ever been—we were in it together. We both got up early each morning so that he could write and I could get to the business of running the lodge. Sara and I baked and made breakfast for the guests, then I helped Leah make up the rooms and worked in the garden.

  The goal was to still have time each day to enjoy summer on the island. That was the goal. More often than not, Race would end up watching the front desk on Jeremy’s day off and running into town or to the mainland to do errands. I didn’t usually finish with the cooking and cleaning until the afternoon, and the garden was still waiting.

  We did go into town and stayed at a bed and breakfast for my birthday. It was fun to be tourists for a couple of days. Race gave me another framed picture. It was one of me with Cat and the girls, and it was in an antique frame he bought at Harper’s Antiques.

  That night I was brushing my teeth and thinking about what Mr. Browning said, “…old age is best.” I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “Look at you. You’re fifty, you’ve been blessed with tremendous family and friends, you’re in love with your husband, you own a lodge and you live in one of the most beautiful places on earth. You’re a blessed woman, Cammy Coleman.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Race asked from the bedroom.

  I walked out of the bathroom and dove onto the bed next to him and said, “Not a ghost.”

  We laughed, and I had a moment of contentment that was so intense I can still remember how it felt.

  When we got back from our jaunt into town, Sara and Marni were waiting for me.

  “Welcome back. Tomorrow it’s our turn. Race said he and Jeremy would hold down the fort and we can have you for the day,” announced Sara.

  “Have me for what?”

  “Girl fun,” answered Marni.

  And it was fun. We went shopping and then to Meaks Deli. Lila Meaks had prepared us a picnic lunch, which we took up to Grayson’s Meadow where we spent the afternoon painting.

  Marni had never painted before and we discovered her artistic base is that of a colorist. She used the paint as though it was an extension of her hand, no, her eye. Most people are timid to put the first stroke on a clean canvas, not Marni. There was no hesitation. She slapped the paint on like a child whose vision hadn’t yet been ruined by someone telling them a tree should always look like a tree when you draw it. But as you took in her abstract interpretation of the meadow, you could see in her bands and dots of brilliant, fluid color what she was seeing, and you could tell exactly what part of the landscape she was looking at.