by Jenna Mindel
“He did a great job. He’s knowledgeable.” Bree didn’t mention that Darren was also attractive and single. Or that Ed had given him grief.
“Well, good. If it’s successful, we might offer this class every year.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” Would Darren teach it? If so, she’d be sorry to miss it.
Bree definitely thought this class more fun than most of the interest offerings available through the summer season at Bay Willows. Pottery, painting and bridge were only a few. Her mother, as president of the garden club, had organized the wild edibles course months ago.
“Well, I’ve got to run. Stella had just started making dinner when I called her. I left a bowl of cleaned morels in the fridge for you and Dad.”
“Your father will enjoy them.”
She’d split half her bundle with her parents; the other half was going with her. A convenient escape for tonight, but her mother was bound to tell her father the news, and then they’d both sit her down for more information.
Her father would want to know what kind of living she could expect over the next two years. Bree had cashed in her 401(k) to handle incidentals, plus she had a good savings. Room and board were covered in a dorm-like setting as there were other residents working in other areas, but that was pretty much it when it came to compensation.
She had a little over a month up north where troubles melted away in the deep blue waters of Lake Michigan. Only she’d be gone before the lake was warm enough for swimming.
Bree took a deep breath and then let it back out. “Is there anything you need before I go?”
Her mother stared over the rim of her reading glasses and lifted her needlepoint. “I’ve got this to keep me busy, and your father’s outside. I’ll be fine.”
Her father would be around all week before heading back home to his job in Detroit. He’d make the four and a half-hour trek north to the cottage every weekend, though. Bree had grown up that way. Seeing her father only on weekends during the summer months.
Bree headed out the door. From the front porch, she scanned the gorgeous view of Maple Bay and sighed. The dark blue waters of Lake Michigan slapped rhythmically against the shore while birds sang their hearts out. If only she could capture these sounds and turn them into chords and notes. The view always inspired a chorus in her head. Could sight somehow be translated into sound? A good composer used all the senses.
Could she be good?
She’d written oodles of movements with the hope of putting it all together. One day, she’d hear her own piece played. If she was successful in her residency, others would hear it, too, and she’d finally prove herself capable of not only playing but also creating good string music. She’d rise above the title of simple musician to something special. A real artist.
Bree walked the short couple of blocks away from the shoreline to Stella’s cottage, set back against the wooded area. Her stomach dipped when she spotted a big green passenger van with the DNR emblem on the doors. Darren stood on the porch, opening and closing the screen door. Then he went inside.
Bree bit her lip. Maybe he’d only stopped by. And maybe she was acting like a kid with a school yard crush, suddenly afraid to talk to the man. Good grief, she’d see him next week at class and the week after, so what was the big deal?
He was the big deal. Big and strong and attractive, Darren fell on the other side of the bell curve compared to the men she knew. Not that she’d dated all that much before Philip, but she was used to musicians, not strapping outdoorsmen with a chip a mile wide on their broad shoulders.
Walking forward, Bree stepped up onto the screened porch and rapped on the door, then opened it. “Hello?”
Stella hustled down the hallway and waved her in. “Come in the kitchen and you can help me finish dinner.”
Bree heard the sound of water running from upstairs followed by a clinking of metal against metal. Then the running faucet again.
“Darren’s fixing a couple of things for me. And he’s staying for dinner.”
“Oh, then I don’t want to intrude.” Bree backed up a step or two.
“Nonsense.” Stella dropped her voice to a whisper. “I purposely left my purse behind so he’d have to stop by. I wanted you two to get to know each other better.”
“Stella...” Bree followed her friend into the kitchen.
“Oh, come on. Have a little fun.” Stella wiggled her overly penciled eyebrows. “He could use a little female attention.”
“Oh? And why is that?” Bree couldn’t imagine Darren having any trouble getting a date.
“Broken engagement with my granddaughter. She did the breaking.” Stella pursed her lips, obviously not pleased.
“Oh, wow. Darren and Raleigh?” Bree had heard rumors a couple of summers ago about another man. She didn’t know Darren was the one who’d been jilted. Betrayed.
Stella nodded. “Be nice to him. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Stella!” Bree felt for the guy. She really did. It made perfect sense that he’d avoided her. Well, Darren didn’t have to worry. Bree had broken it off with Philip because he’d made her choose between him and her music. She couldn’t risk another romantic entanglement. No way.
Stella handed her a small cutting board. “He’s a good man.”
“I’m sure he is—”
“You cut up the morels,” Stella interrupted. “I’ll get to work on the marsala.”
“Okay.” She was glad she’d changed topics. Bree knew her way around Stella’s kitchen and grabbed a knife. She got to work slicing the rinsed mushrooms, then moved on to making a salad while Stella finished the chicken.
Her thoughts were tied up, trying to remember what she’d heard about Stella’s granddaughter. Bree recalled there had been some sort of scandal, something her mother had once said, but Bree hadn’t ever paid much attention to the Bay Willows grapevine. Too much fodder to take in.
Footsteps sounded on the wide plank floors, and Bree looked up.
“That smells awe-sssome—” Darren’s voice fell away to nothing when he spotted her and frowned.
“Hello.” Bree gave him a sheepish smile, feeling like she’d been caught with her hands in the cookie jar—knowing about him and Raleigh.
“Hey.”
The wild rabbits that ran around Bay Willows looked less twitchy than this man seeing her here.
“Darren, watch the chicken a minute, would you, while I set the dining room table.” Stella exited fast with an arm load of things from the fridge. She was more than a little obvious in leaving them alone.
Bree’s cheeks flushed red-hot. “I’m sorry. She invited me, too.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” Darren stepped close to the stove and stirred the sauce. He turned down the heat. “I hadn’t planned to stay, and—”
Horrified, Bree blurted, “You’re not going to leave because of me, are you?”
He tipped his head and gave her a cool stare. “What I was going to say is that Stella twisted my arm with the promise of dinner if I fixed the faucet upstairs. Stella’s a good cook.”
“Oh.” Bree relaxed. Sort of. “Sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry.”
“Sorr—I mean, okay.” Then she laughed. “It’s a habit.”
“Saying you’re sorry?” Darren didn’t look amused by that.
“When I’m nervous, yes.” Bree’s stomach dropped again. That was a stupid thing to say, but she was used to apologizing to Philip in order to stop an argument before it started.
Darren chuckled. “You’re nervous?”
Yes. Because you’re way too attractive.
Instead of admitting that, Bree squared her shoulders. “Wrong choice of words, perhaps, but I feel like maybe I’m imposing.”
“Trust me, you’re not.”
&n
bsp; Silence settled thick between them until he looked around. “Stella? I think it’s ready.”
“Good. Turn off the heat and put the lid on it.” Stella entered the kitchen and foraged in the fridge once more. “What do you two want to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” Bree said as she ducked out with the salad bowl and set it on the dining room table.
“Same for me.” Darren’s deep voice sounded a little too loud.
“You’re both boring,” Stella chirped as she handed over a pitcher of ice-cold water from the fridge. “Now go sit down. I’ll bring out the chicken.”
Bree remained in the dining room, waiting.
Darren entered and sat down right across from her, leaving the chair at the head of the table for their host. He looked at her.
She looked back.
Be nice to him. Stella’s words roused a nervous laugh Bree choked off before it bubbled out. Darren didn’t look like he wanted nice. Or anything to do with her, for that matter.
Stella set a large covered dish in the middle of the table. Fragrant steam leaked out, teasing Bree’s appetite and stealing her attention.
“Darren, would you mind saying the blessing?” Stella bowed her head.
“Sure.” Darren bowed his, too.
Bree followed suit, curious to hear the man pray.
“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”
“Amen,” Stella echoed.
Bree glanced at Darren. Did he truly believe? A rote prayer wasn’t exactly a blazing emblem of faith, but then she wasn’t exactly the pillar of piety, either. Having only come to salvation through Christ recently, Bree had her moments. She was often wrapped up in her own way instead of seeking God’s will for her life. But not when it came to her upcoming residency. That was an opportunity, a gift she wouldn’t squander.
Darren caught her staring at him and raised his eyebrows in question along with a bowl. “Salad?”
“Yes, please.”
“So, Bree, tell us what you’ve been up to. Darren, did you know she plays the cello?” Stella scooped steaming chicken and sauce-drenched pasta onto her plate. “She used to give me lessons when I played the violin.”
Bree smiled. “Say the word and I will again.”
Stella patted her hand. “You’d make a great teacher, my dear.”
She shook her head. “With adults maybe, but I don’t have the patience for kids or beginners.”
Darren gave her a nod. “I overheard her play just before class. She’s good.”
“I’m heading to Seattle at the beginning of June for a two-year residency with a symphony out there. We’ll find out if I’m any good at composing.”
Stella’s eyes widened. “Really? I had no idea. Joan never mentioned anything.”
“She didn’t know. I just found out, too. I landed this opportunity only because the initial person chosen had a family situation and declined.”
“Well, congratulations.” Stella smiled.
Bree smiled back. “I’m excited about it.”
Darren visibly relaxed. “Two years, huh? Then what?”
Bree shrugged. “I’ll find out then. I hope. Working under a composer is something I’ve dreamed of doing since college. It’s really a gift from God.”
Darren nodded. “He does that.”
That sure sounded like a man of faith talking. “I figured a month up here before leaving might be a good thing. A gift to myself before the hard work begins. Have some fun, you know? Instead of practice, practice, practice.”
“Good for you,” Stella said.
Bree looked at Darren. “I really enjoyed today’s class, by the way. I’ve never gone off the beaten path into the woods like that. I’m already psyched for next week, looking for fiddleheads.”
Darren glanced at Stella.
“See, I told you it was good,” Stella said.
Darren shrugged, but those bright blue eyes of his studied Bree. “There’s much more than just woods to explore up here.”
He’d said that before. “Like blue moonlight?”
“I could show you around some.” He looked surprised by his offer.
She was, too, and glanced at Stella.
Be nice to him.
Stella gave her a confident nod, grinning a little too widely. “He knows this area like the back of his hand. You’ll be safe, dear, that’s for sure.”
Safe.
Bree appreciated safety. Knowing Darren was a man of faith and leery of “female attention,” as Stella put it, reassured that his offer was not a come-on. DNR Darren wasn’t looking for a romantic replacement. Even if he was, Bree already had a position lined up that would take all her energy.
One she wouldn’t miss for the world.
Maybe seeing the countryside would inspire her. Something to look back on when things got hard. An intense music residency was bound to get hard, and Bree might need all the inspiration she could get while locked inside for hours on end. Could hanging out with Darren help in some way? After today’s outing, she knew it’d be fun.
“You know what? I’ll take you up on that offer.” Bree nearly laughed at the brief flash of fear that shone from his eyes.
For a split second, Darren looked like he’d jumped in before measuring the depth of a cold lake.
He was handsome, sure, but he had nothing to fear from her. She was safe, too.
* * *
Darren couldn’t believe he’d just asked this woman out. Maybe not in the conventional sense, but offering to show her what lay off the beaten path might as well have been a date. His grandmother called it courting. He nearly laughed at the thought. He wasn’t the get dressed up and bring flowers kind of guy like his grandmother’s description of the ideal date. Darren didn’t dress up for anyone. Still, Bree surprised him by agreeing to go. He couldn’t exactly backpedal his way out of this one without looking like an idiot.
“Where will you take her first?” Stella asked innocently enough, but there was a determined gleam in her eye. She was barking up the wrong tree if she thought to play matchmaker. Hadn’t Stella heard? Bree would be gone in a month’s time. Gone for two years.
“Not sure.” He stalled, and then it dawned on him. “I’m going smelt dipping Friday night with friends. You could come with me.”
“What’s smelt dipping?” Bree’s pretty brow furrowed. Everything about her was pretty. Even the measured way she ate her food was pretty, making sure her pasta was well covered in sauce before taking a bite. She didn’t hurry. Refined and polite, she ate slowly.
What would she think about the robust way his family wolfed down a meal? Growing up with six brothers and three sisters, all younger but one, he’d learned to grab food quickly—shovel it in and then go back for seconds before the food was wiped out. Not that Bree would ever meet his family, much less have dinner with them.
Chances were good that if Bree went smelt dipping, she wouldn’t like it. Then she might not want to go anywhere else. He’d fulfill his sightseeing offer and that’d be the end of it.
He leaned back in his chair, finished with his dinner. “Smelt are small fish we catch at night with nets. They run into rivers this time of year to spawn.”
Bree wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never fished before.”
Genius! He really was a genius at times. He could tell by the pinched look on her face that she wouldn’t like it. “It’s not real fishing. Not like with a pole, but it’s still a good time.”
“Hmm. When?”
“We’re meeting at the river’s edge at nine o’clock, Friday night.” He waited for Bree to pass on this opportunity. From her expression, he knew she wasn’t interested.
“I’ll give it a try.”
That answer threw him. She must be serious about trying new things. Only Darren didn’t want to be one of those new things. It wasn’t as though Bree flirted. Every time he’d looked at her, she’d looked away. And she wasn’t shy. Bree had talked her fair share over dinner.
“So, where is this river?”
He glanced at Stella, and it dawned on him that it’d waste time for him to backtrack into town to pick up Bree. He didn’t want her getting lost on the way, either, driving by herself. “It’s north, nearly to Mackinaw City. We could meet somewhere in between.”
Stella paused in sopping up the last of her marsala sauce with a crust of bread. “Why don’t you two meet at your house? It’s not hard to find and on the way.”
Stella had been to his house with Raleigh only once, and yet she remembered the location. Her suggestion made sense, but something about Bree in his home made him squirm.
Bree didn’t appear bothered by any of it. She waited for him to respond like it didn’t matter to her one way or another. Bree was moving away in a month. Far away, too. Of course it didn’t matter where she met him. She wasn’t interested in him. He was crazy to think she’d be interested in hanging out with him for some temporary connection before leaving.
“Do you have a piece of paper?” he finally asked.
Stella jumped up and grabbed a notepad and pen, handing it over with a victorious grin.
Darren looked at Bree. She’d finished the last of her salad and then drained her water glass. When she wiped her full-lipped mouth with a napkin, he swallowed hard. A lot could happen in a month.
He concentrated on the paper. “I’ll draw you a map. I’m right off the main road, but back in the woods a few miles.”
“Okay.” Bree tipped her head and watched him. She listened close as he explained when and where to look for his turn off.
He handed her the paper. “My cell is listed there, too.”
“Looks easy enough. Thanks.” Bree reached across and took the pen, then scribbled a number down and ripped it off. “Here’s my number, just in case something comes up between now and then.”
Darren pocketed the note and stood with plate in hand. “Stel, I’m going to take off.”
