Where Your Heart Is (Lilac Bay Book 1)

by Rachel Schurig

  “You think so, huh?”

  He smirked at me. “I’m obviously an excellent teacher.”

  I laughed, the sound cutting off abruptly when he jokingly bumped my shoulder with his. God, he was so solid next to me. Phillip hadn’t been solid like that. Had any of the boys on my skimpy list of exes? Most of them had been the slick, overly styled type so prevalent in the real estate circuit. I couldn’t imagine a single one of them doing something like this—devoting countless hours to teach me how to swim. Which didn’t even include all of the work he was doing for my grandparents.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, voice soft near my ear. “You were laughing, and then you went a little still.”

  I felt my cheeks redden. I couldn’t exactly tell him that I’d been thinking about how he still, twelve years after we’d broken up, out-measured every other guy I’d ever dated.

  I was saved from coming up with an answer by the sounds of a Van Halen ringtone coming from David’s cargo shorts, currently slung over the back of his seat. “Better grab that,” he said, standing. It was funny, the way I could immediately feel the absence of his presence. It must just be his body heat, I told myself, trying to keep it together.

  “Dad,” David said into the phone, his voice cheery. “How’s it going?”

  Whatever his dad said made David laugh. “That good, huh?”

  They talked for a few minutes while I tried, and failed, not to listen in. It sounded like his dad needed help with some repairs at the house, which David, of course, agreed to assist him with. I wondered where in the world he found the time to keep up with all he was doing. His shifts at the café, Cora’s pub, The Elks. Helping out at Rose’s. These lessons. Did he ever say no to anyone?

  Was that all this was? Yet another example of the way David Jenkins was a stand-up guy, helping everyone out, no matter their problem.

  “Sorry,” he said joining me again. “Dad needs the gutters cleaned out.”

  “How’s he doing?” I asked. I had liked David’s dad when we were teenagers. In fact, we spent quite a lot of time at the Jenkins’ house back then. I was so angry with my mother, getting away from Lilac Ridge was a necessity. I remembered Mr. Jenkins as an older version of David—tall, broad, and kind.

  “He’s okay,” David said, but there was an edge to his voice that told me I wasn’t getting the whole story.

  “Still working at the lumberyard?”

  David didn’t answer for a moment, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. “Nah. He’s on disability now.”

  “Was he injured?” I asked, thinking of power saws and whatever other dangerous implements they used at lumberyards.

  “He messed up his back a few years ago.” Again the sense that he was leaving something out. But then he sighed. “Honestly, things have been rough for him for a while. The back injury was just…well, more of an excuse, I guess.”

  “An excuse?”

  “To give up.” There was so much bitterness in his voice, it made me feel chilled. Suddenly, he looked an awful lot like the David Jenkins who had saved me from falling into the bay all those weeks ago.

  “David—”

  “My mom left him,” he said, the bitterness even stronger. “Just ran off. Said she didn’t want to be married anymore. After twenty-five years.”

  “Shit,” I said, reaching for his hand without thinking. To my surprise, he let me take it, though he held my fingers limply in his own.

  “It really broke him up. I’ve never seen him… Anyhow, he was different after that. Sad. Drinking all the time. When he hurt his back…” David shrugged. “He pretty much just hangs out at the Elks now. Or Cora’s.”

  Cora’s and the Elks. Both places where David worked. Was that a coincidence? Or had he taken those low-paying, part-time jobs that in no way matched up with his talents to keep an eye on his dad? A sudden thought struck me, making my throat go dry.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Five years ago.”

  Five years. In other words, when David left Chicago. So his mom had left, he’d had some seemingly traumatic breakup with his college girlfriend, and then his dad had gotten hurt. I remembered Posey’s words from all those weeks ago. He’s been through a lot.

  “That’s why you came home.”

  It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t deny it.

  “You gave up being a chef to come back here and look after your dad?”

  His head snapped over in my direction. “Of course I did. That’s what you do, Iris. For family.”

  I swallowed, feeling chastised even though his voice hadn’t been judgmental.

  “Hey.” He squeezed my hand, his voice a lot more light now. “It’s not so bad. Don’t you go feeling sorry for me.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for you,” I said quickly. Too quickly. Of course I did. What a sad story. His mom leaving; his dad reacting so badly. And David giving up a promising career to come back here to this island.

  “Iris.” There was laughter in his voice now, such a change from the bitterness of a few moments ago. “I’m happy here, you know.”

  “You are?” I blurted out the words without thinking, my disbelief evident in my voice, but David only laughed.

  “You don’t have to sound so shocked. I am. I like it here. I like my friends. I like being close to my dad. I like the work I do. Being a part of the community here. It means a lot to me.”

  That old frustration rose sharply in my chest. David must have read something of it on my face. “What?”

  “Do you know that I’ve been hearing that since I was a toddler?” I asked, my voice tight. I had to look away from him, certain he would see the anger coloring my cheeks. “All my family talks about is home. What it means to them. How important it is. My grandparents feel that way. Posey feels that way—she could have done anything after college, you know? She’s so smart and has so much energy and drive. But she came home. Just like you did.” I swallowed, feeling like I was saying too much but unable to stop myself. “I’m the only one I know who doesn’t feel that. Who doesn’t have that sense of place. Not anywhere.” I turned back to him, my frustration too strong to try to hide it. “What’s wrong with me that I’ve never had that, David?”

  I thought he might look at me in that disdainful way he had that first week. That look that told me exactly what he thought of my relationship to the island, to my family. But instead, he smiled. And reached for my hands. “Iris, you do have that.”

  I snorted. “Give me a break. You know how I feel about the island. And Chicago never felt like home, not after my mom—” I broke off, not wanting to finish that sentence, and something softened in his eyes.

  “Iris, home doesn’t have to be a place. Your family doesn’t love it here just because of the island. Sure, they love the town and the land and the water and everything we have here. But it’s about so much more than that.” He squeezed my hands. “It’s about the people. Their friends. And their family. That most of all. Their kids and their grandkids and each other. I’m sure it’s the same way for your Aunt Deen and Uncle Frank and all your cousins. It’s the people that draw them back here. Their family.” He ducked his head so he was on my level, looking right into my eyes. “I’m sure it was the same for your mother.”

  There was a lump in my throat, and my eyes burned. “I’ve never been a part of it, David. You said it yourself—I was never here.”

  “That doesn’t mean you weren’t a part of it. They were always waiting for you, Iris. Ready to welcome you back. And when things got shitty in your life, you came here. For the exact same reasons that they stayed here. For the same reasons I came back here. Because it’s where your family is.”

  A tear slipped down my cheek, and I cursed under my breath. I hated crying, especially in front of other people. But David didn’t say a word about it. He merely brushed it away with the pad of his thumb and leaned in a little closer. Immediately, all thoughts of crying ceased. Because I could see the flecks of blue i
n his grey eyes, could make out every golden lash. And his lips were right there, inches away. This boy who had befriended me all those years ago when I was alone and afraid. The boy who’d given me my first kiss. Who had taken my heart.

  The boy who seemed ready to take it all over again.

  I leaned into him, his eyes flitting down to my lips, and I felt a surge of triumph in my chest. He wanted to kiss me, too, I knew he did, and in just a second—

  David froze, his eyes widening, terror clear in his face.

  “What?” I asked, immediately pulling away to look around, half expecting to see a marauding band of pirates invading the cove from the level of fear in his eyes.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered though clenched teeth, gripping my hands tighter.

  “David, what’s the matter?”

  “There’s a spider,” he said, his jaw barely moving, his face rigid.

  “Where?” I turned my head, left and right, trying to locate the spider, and David groaned a little.

  “In you hair.”

  I reached up. Now that he mentioned it, I did feel something on my forehead. I brushed it aside and David screamed—he actually screamed, out loud, the sound shockingly high pitched and close to my ear.

  “God, David,” I said, rubbing my ear with my other hand. The spider, a pretty minuscule black thing, had climbed onto my thumb when I touched my forehead, so I moved to brush him off.

  “In the water!” David squealed. “Knock it in the water!”

  “I’m not going to drown him,” I argued, completely bewildered by his behavior. Was he trying to be funny? “It’s just a tiny little spider, it’s no big—” I held out my hand to show him how small it was. Big mistake. David scurried backward, crab style, with seemingly inhuman speed, knocking his bottle of water into the bay.

  “I don’t want to see it!”

  “Okay!” I stood very slowly, hoping not to spook him. He had anchored the boat near the shoreline, right under a birch tree, so I reached up for the branch above my head—probably where the thing had come from, come to think of it—and carefully placed the spider on one of the leaves. “There. All gone.”

  “It’s not gone!” He covered his head with his hands and ran to the opposite side of the boat. “It’s up there!”

  “David, what’s your deal?” I felt a sudden thrill of fear. Maybe this was one of those things I wasn’t getting because I was a mainlander. “Is it poisonous?”

  “How would I know?” he shouted, sounding half hysterical.

  Okay, he was really freaking out. “David—”

  “Oh God, what if there are more?” he moaned, running his hands along his arms and legs. “We were sitting under that tree for hours.”

  “We were under the tree for twenty minutes—”

  But it was no use. Certain there were still spiders hiding on him, David took a deep breath and jumped from the front of the boat into the water. “David!”

  He ducked under the water, running his hands through his hair, then repeated the action. And again. And again. “Do you think I got them all?”

  “There are no other spiders!” I called out. “What are you doing? Get back in the boat!”

  “I’m not getting back on there. What if they’re on you?”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, swinging over the rail at the front of the boat so I could jump down and join him. I found my footing on the bottom and dunked my shoulders down under the water. “There. Better?”

  “It was in your hair.”

  “Fine!” Without thinking about much of anything except for the panic on his face, I ducked my whole head under the water. It actually felt pretty good, all things considered, the water cool against my face, my hair floating out around my head. When I surfaced, David had come a few feet closer.

  “Maybe do that one more time,” he said, his voice slightly more calm. I sighed and repeated the motion, twice, for good measure. When I surfaced the second time, I wiped the water from my face. “Better?”

  “Yeah.” He sounded very sheepish. Pretty embarrassed, actually.

  “David, what was that?”

  “I uh, was just, you know, trying to get you to put your face under. Consider it a ninja teaching move.” But he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Was he blushing?

  “David.”

  “Fine.” He blew out a deep breath. “I might be slightly afraid of spiders.”

  “Slightly?”

  He grimaced. “I’m fucking terrified, okay?”

  I slapped a hand over my mouth, determined not to laugh at him. After all, he hadn’t laughed when I told him about my phobia. But he looked so darn cute, his face red, fists clenched in embarrassment or the remains of fear. I thought of the high-pitched scream he’d let out a few minutes before and had to bite my lip.

  But he was still talking, getting more and more agitated, apparently. “Spiders are to me what water was to you three weeks ago. Okay? Happy now? David Jenkins is a giant baby and you can go and tell all of the ladies of the Libbies and let them laugh and—”

  David’s rant was cut off abruptly. That’s what happens when someone throws her arms around your neck and starts kissing you. To his credit, his shock only seemed to last a moment. Then he was kissing me right back, his lips warm and insistent against mine, his hands immediately going up into my hair.

  “What’s that for?” he murmured against my mouth.

  “You’re really cute, David Jenkins,” I whispered back.

  “Because I’m scared of spiders?”

  “Because you’re you.” I could feel his lips stretch into a grin against mine, and then he was kissing me again, pulling me close, the waters of Lilac Bay lapping gently around us.

  Chapter 14

  “I just want to know where he’s taking you,” Sherry said. “That’s all, then I’ll leave you alone.”

  “I don’t know where he’s taking me,” I replied, with as much patience as I could manage. Okay, so telling the Libbies that I had a date with David had been a mistake. But it was hardly my fault. At the last meeting, the recipe had been for pudding shots. Since everyone was too impatient to let them set, we’d ended up drinking the concoction of pudding mix, milk, and vodka like milkshakes. Needless to say, I was laughing about David Jenkins’ amazing ass with the rest of them after only a few sips. And the whole “We made out in Blackbeard’s Cove, and now we have a date” part had just kind of followed. Damn pudding-shot milkshakes.

  They were also responsible for my attendance behind the Libbies’ lemonade stand at the Flower Festival the night of said date. There was no way I would have agreed to this sober.

  “I just can’t believe he’s actually taking you on a date,” Riley sighed. “He never takes anyone out. On a date! A real date!”

  “We’re staying on the island,” I pointed out. “It’s hardly going to be five-star entertainment.”

  “Are you complaining?” Libby asked, aghast. “In ten minutes, David Jenkins is going to show up here to pick you up and take you out for an evening of staring at his gorgeous biceps. At the end of which, he might stick his tongue down your throat. And you’re complaining?”

  “Nope,” I said quickly. When she put it that way, a little time at the Flower Festival didn’t seem like that big of a deal. I was definitely the luckiest girl in Town Square that night.

  “Ugh,” Cora muttered, pushing on my arm. “There’s that look again. I liked it better when you were complaining.”

  “What look?”

  “That mooning, I-know-what-David-Jenkins’-make-out-game-is-like look. It’s not fair.”

  “Sorry,” I said quickly, doing my best to wipe the smile off my face. Luckily, a good-looking, very male tourist approached our booth for some lemonade, distracting the ladies as they fell over each other to help him. Until his wife appeared at his side, at which point, they all lost interest. “There’s your change,” Libby muttered morosely, handing him a quarter.

  “So what’s the deal with this,�
�� I asked, looking around the square. “I thought the Lilac Festival didn’t start for two weeks.” I should know the date. Zane was absolutely obsessed with us getting the restaurant open by then. A soft open, only for dinner and a very limited menu. But open all the same. Everyone knew the festival was one of the biggest tourist draws of the whole season, second only to the Cherry Festival in July. If we wanted to turn a profit that summer, opening for the Lilac Festival was pretty vital.

  I followed up my question with a sip of lemonade, so it took me a moment to realize that they were all staring at me in horror. “This isn’t the Lilac festival,” Sherry finally stuttered.

  “I thought you said it—”

  “It’s the Flower Festival.”

  I looked around at their incredulous faces. “You mean they’re not the same thing?”

  “No!” They chorused.

  “Well, what’s the difference?” I asked, feeling more than a little defensive about the way they were gaping at me in horror.

  “The Lilac Festival is the most important week of the year,” Libby explained.

  “I thought the Cherry Festival—”

  “The Cherry Festival is bigger,” Sherry said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But that’s focused over in Traverse City. That’s where most of the orchards are. We only have the two and—,” she stopped herself, as if she could sense my growing disinterest. How many festivals did these people need, anyhow?

  “The cherries bring in more tourists,” Libby explained. “And it’s very fun and good for the economy of the whole area. But the Lilac Festival is all ours.”

  “Because of the name of the island?”

  “Well, duh!” Riley cries. “Haven’t you ever heard the legend of the island? Seriously, Iris, how don’t you know about the lilacs?”

  I felt my heart sink, certain I was about to get a long lesson on the legend and history of the lilac flowers. I wasn’t sure I could take it.

  “Oh, Iris,” a warm, very masculine voice murmured behind me. “You don’t even know about the lilacs?”

  I spun around, all negative thoughts fleeing, to see David standing outside our booth, looking down at me with a grave expression. But his eyes seemed to be dancing in the light of the lanterns strung up in the trees around us, and I felt a little thrill in my chest. I wished he would kiss me.