Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan

by Melanie Dobson

  She hadn’t wanted to be intrigued by him in the least, only in his telescope. But the more he spoke, the more he interested her as well. He was a handsome man, to be sure, and maybe a little too charming. The girls in the village must swoon every time he came to town.

  She wished she could have been honest with him, even if she only shared her first name, but she couldn’t possibly tell him who she was. If her fall on the pier had crippled her reputation, meeting a soldier at the lighthouse—at night—would ruin it. Even if nothing inappropriate happened between them, her mother’s friends would assume that she was just like Hilga, and her indiscretion could cost her and her family dearly.

  No one could know about tonight, not even Jillian. She trusted Jillian completely, but sometimes it seemed like the walls in her house had ears. She wouldn’t do anything, intentionally at least, to harm her family’s reputation.

  She might never see Chase again, but she would never forget this night. Nor would she forget him. The man liked the stars, and he had even liked her sketches. When she left tonight, she’d hidden her sketchbook in a different place, but the next time he came, if he looked hard enough, he could find it.

  If he ever came back—

  She shook her head. She didn’t want Chase to come back to her light-house… or, at least, she shouldn’t want him to return.

  For six summers now, it had been her private escape to meet with God and enjoy His creation even as she created with Him. This man had done nothing to harm her, but she should still feel violated. Or angry at him, at the very least, for invading her privacy.

  Yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. She liked the thought of him returning to the lighthouse, of seeing him again.

  She groaned as she pedaled down the lane to her home.

  She couldn’t possibly think anything more of Chase than a friendly acquaintance during a chance meeting. She was destined to marry someone of connection and wealth for her family’s sake, and she wouldn’t forsake her role in helping her family.

  Even so, she’d enjoyed the moments of his company the way she hadn’t with any other man. He teased her as Parker did, and yet he appreciated her sketches. Art, he’d called them.

  She’d never thought of herself as an artist before.

  As she drew close to her back gate, she extinguished her lantern and hid her bicycle behind the hydrangea bush. She tiptoed down the stone steps and heard the dog barking again from their neighbor’s house. The exhaustion after the masquerade party, the irritation at Mr. Darrington’s words, had disappeared. Her heart felt as if it were soaring like an osprey above the water.

  She hurried as quietly as possible down the pathway to the back porch.

  Stepping onto the porch, she heard a low rumble behind her. Her heart stopped for a moment, and she turned slowly.

  It sounded as if her neighbor’s dog was growling at her.

  She scanned the moonlit yard, but nothing moved. The groaning sound grew louder.

  She listened closely in the shadows, but the noise no longer sounded like a growl. It sounded more like a…snore.

  Was someone sleeping in their backyard?

  She tiptoed across the patio and grass. The sound seemed to be coming from one of their lawn chairs. Often she’d seen people sleeping on the streets of Chicago or in a park, but she’d never known of anyone spending the night in their yard, either here or at home.

  She moved around the chair quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeper. If he were a stranger, she’d get Claude or someone else to help.

  But he wasn’t a stranger at all. Instead, her father sat partially upright on the chair, sound asleep.

  What was he doing outside?

  She nudged his shoulder, whispering to him. “Papa?”

  Startled, he leaped to his feet, staring at her for an instant before seeming to realize where he was. He sighed as he sat down again. “When did you get home?”

  She blinked and then watched him for a moment. “How did you know I was gone?”

  He chuckled softly, running his fingers over hair that had begun to turn silver in the past months. “I always know when you go to the lighthouse.”

  “Lighthouse?” The question sprayed from her lips. She’d thought Claude, Jillian, and Parker were the only ones who knew her secret.

  “Do you really think Claude would let you go out at night without telling me?”

  She clutched her hands together, the question ringing in her mind. After Claude had told her about the lighthouse, she’d sworn him to secrecy along with the others, but she should have known he wouldn’t keep the secret from her father—Claude was much too loyal to him and much too protective of her.

  Part of her wanted to be irritated at him for sharing her secret, but she couldn’t muster any anger—not at Claude for sharing her secret or at Chase for stealing it.

  “At first, I followed you every night you went. Every night I thought it would be your last time, thinking you would get bored with the place.”

  She shook her head. “I could never be bored with it.”

  “I figured that out after the second or third year.” He sighed. “I followed you for three years, but then my knee started to go bad on me. The year after you turned sixteen, I finally determined that you were old enough to go on your own.”

  She leaned back against a tree. “So you wait out here for me?”

  He nodded. “Every time.”

  All those nights she had returned from her bike ride, at two or three or sometimes even four in the morning, tiptoeing back to the house so she wouldn’t waken anyone…all those nights she’d been so careful to sneak out of the house so no one would hear, thinking she was alone, when all along her father was following her.

  “But you were sleeping, Papa. How would you know when I return?”

  “I don’t always fall asleep,” he said. “But if I do, I just go look for your bicycle when I wake up.”

  Her heart softened. She was glad he still worried about her. “You don’t have to keep waiting up for me.”

  “Maybe so, but it makes me feel better to know when you’re home.”

  She stepped forward and sat in the chair next to him. The breeze fluttered across her skirt and ruffled her hair, but she didn’t care the least what it did tonight.

  “Does Mama know?” she asked.

  He leaned back in the chair, looking up at the sky with her. “What do you think?”

  “She’d never let me go if she knew.”

  “Your mother—she loves you very much.”

  Elena edged her knees up to her chest, putting her arms around her legs like she had when she was a girl. “I know.”

  “She wants what is best for you, Elena—your safety and your health and a husband who can take much better care of you than I can.”

  She reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’ve always taken good care of me, Papa.”

  “But not good enough, at least not lately.”

  She pulled her legs even closer to her. “It doesn’t matter to me if we lose our house or our money. As long as our family is together.”

  He took a long breath. “You may think that now, Elena, but you don’t know what it is like to be poor. You know how your mama grew up—she doesn’t want the same thing for you.”

  Elena put her chin on her knees. Mama rarely talked about her childhood, but the bits she did talk about, like the piecework Elena’s grandmother took into her home to supply their family with basic food and shelter, made Elena sad.

  Mama had slaved endlessly alongside her mother to make pretty clothing, and as she sewed, she was very deliberate in pleasing the right women, those who could help her escape the chains that kept her bound to the working class. She studied these society ladies as a young woman, mimicking their style and manners. One of them invited her to her home for a special fitting, and during tea, she met a young businessman named Arthur Bissette—a man following his father’s legacy as a successful factory owner and real-estate mogul.


  Arthur was looking for a wife who could help him manage his household. An elegant woman who could also attend society functions with him and put their guests at ease. When Arthur proposed the idea of marriage, she never seemed to look back. They married, and the role of socialite fitted her like the perfect glove. Thirty years later, she remained stalwart in this role.

  “Did you love Mama when you married?”

  He hesitated before he answered. “I don’t regret marrying her.”

  “But did you love her?”

  “We grew to appreciate each other over the years.”

  She blinked. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

  “There’s no reason to feel sorry for me,” he said. “Your mother has been an excellent mother to you and a good wife to me. She’s worked tirelessly to help our family’s business and reputation.”

  “But she’s practically killed herself while doing it.”

  “She only wants what is best for you, Elena.”

  She wanted to tell her father about the soldier she’d met tonight, of the pattering in her heart, but no matter what she said, she wouldn’t be able to convince him that Chase was a good man. That someone like Chase might be best for her.

  “I know that.” She wiggled in her seat. She should be exhausted, but the night had exhilarated her. “But she wants me to marry a man I’ve never met before.”

  “She wants you to marry someone who will provide well for you.”

  “Is that what you want, Papa?”

  “I want—” He paused. “I want you to marry someone you love.”

  She turned toward him quickly. “Are you certain?”

  He nodded. “Someone you love and someone who loves you.”

  She mulled over this information. Neither of her parents had ever talked about marrying for love.

  “But what if he isn’t wealthy?”

  “It will be hard, Elena. You’ll have little time for leisure, but I know you can learn how to care well for a home.”

  She glanced back at the dark cottage behind them, towering among the trees. Could she take care of a house by herself? She’d been groomed her entire life to manage a household, but she’d never learned how to cook or launder clothes or even clean. If she married someone with a lower income, someone with the military even, could she do the household tasks without much—or any—help?

  If she married a soldier like Chase, her home wouldn’t be nearly as large as this cottage, but no matter where she went, Jillian would surely go with her. Jillian could teach her what she needed to know, even as they worked alongside each other.

  Oh, it would be worth the work to marry a man who loved her. To marry a man she wanted to welcome home every night instead of feeling like wanting to run away from their home. Or perhaps they could even run away together and look at the night sky, like she and Chase had done tonight.

  Her mind wandered back to the hour or so at the lighthouse, marveling at the skies with Chase. Instead of critiquing her or coddling her, he had treated her like an equal, and not once did she dream of being someplace else. If someone like Chase loved her, if she loved him, then it would be a privilege to care for him and their small home.

  Papa leaned forward. “Are you asleep?”

  She shook her head. “If God gives me a husband who wants to marry me for love instead of position, I think I could learn to care for our home on my own.”

  He studied her face for a moment in the dim light before he spoke again. “I’m proud of you, Elena.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  “I will pray with you that God will bless you with a man who loves you…and a man who can provide well for you.”

  “Mama thinks Mr. Darrington is the best man for me.”

  “Perhaps your mother is right.”

  She shuddered. “I can’t marry a man I don’t know.”

  “Would you like me to invite Chester Darrington over for dinner?”

  She wiggled her toes in her boots. Did she really want to meet this Chester Darrington, after what he’d said about her?

  It was inevitable, she supposed, that they would have to meet, but when it happened, she hoped it would be at one of the balls or another public setting. A place she could easily flee.

  “I don’t know,” she replied honestly.

  Papa scratched his chin. “I think I’ll wait before I invite him to our home, then. Whenever you are ready.”

  Relief flooded through her as she thanked him again.

  He stood up and brushed off his pant legs as faint rays of sunlight stole over the top of their house. Then he reached for his cane, pointing it toward the house. “I suppose we should try to sleep a few hours before breakfast.”

  She agreed even though she didn’t know if she could sleep with all the thoughts racing through her mind.

  They crept up the back staircase silently in the darkness, not wanting to wake Mama—but when Elena reached for her doorknob, her mother’s door opened. Her hair was hidden under her nightcap, and a candle made her emerald wrapper and face glow.

  She looked back and forth between them. “What are you two doing?”

  Papa cleared his throat. “We were both awake, so we decided to get some fresh air.”

  Mama looked back into her room, at the clock on the mantel. “It’s barely five o’clock.”

  He yawned. “We couldn’t sleep.”

  Her eyes traveled down Elena’s old dress. “What are you wearing?”

  Before she answered, Papa spoke. “I think Elena and I both need a bit more rest before we start our day.”

  “But—”

  He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “We’re sorry for waking you.”

  Mama didn’t move. “I’m afraid we’ve ruined our chances to meet Mr. Darrington.”

  He leaned back against the doorpost, looking down at Elena. “I believe Mr. Darrington might have ruined his chances to meet Elena.”

  She smiled.

  He nudged Mama toward her room. “You need to get some more sleep, Deborah.”

  Before Mama said anything else, Elena slipped inside her bedroom.

  After she changed into her nightgown and climbed under her covers, Chase’s handsome eyes danced in her mind.

  She didn’t know when she would see him again, but she knew that she must.

  She turned over, trying to rest, yet the thought of this man robbed her sleep. Her mother would tell her not to be too anxious to see him again. If she encouraged him too much, he might run.

  As she closed her eyes, sunlight streamed softly through the window, warming her face.

  Neither of her parents could know about him, at least not right now, but if her father was telling her the truth, if he really did want her to marry for love, perhaps there was hope for her and a man like Chase.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dozens of people stood on Mackinac’s pier, waiting to board the Manitou before it embarked for Chicago. Chase scanned their heads just as he’d found himself searching faces on his carriage ride to town, looking for her.

  He’d stayed for another fifteen minutes at the lighthouse last night, not wanting to frighten Andy by following her. Even though he’d promised her he was a gentleman, he was keenly aware that not all men kept their promises.

  Andy’s presence lingered in the lighthouse after she was gone, and then she’d stolen into his dreams during his few hours of sleep. He’d awakened late this morning with his heart pounding in fear, afraid he would never see her again.

  One of the women on the pier wore light brown ringlets that cascaded down her shoulders, and Chase elbowed his way through the crowd, his eyes on the woman’s hair as he tried to reach her.

  He had lifted his hand to tap the woman’s shoulder when someone clutched his arm. Chase was tall compared to most men, but when he turned, the man who squeezed his arm was at least an inch taller. And his face was beet red.

  The man’s nostrils flared. “What do you want?”

  “I—”

  �
�Leave my wife alone.”

  His chest burned for a moment until the woman turned, her blue eyes narrowed at him. She wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Andy, nor was she smiling as Andy had done last night.

  “I’m sorry.” Chase backed away. “I thought you— I thought she was someone else.”

  The man released his grip and turned to quiz his wife. Chase sighed as he walked to the other side of the pier. He hadn’t meant to scare the woman or worry her husband. He only wanted to find Andy.

  Why hadn’t he persisted like his mother would have done and discovered Andy’s real name?

  Mackinac wasn’t that big of an island. Surely if he asked enough people, someone could tell him where to find her. But then again, what was he supposed to say? If he told people about a beautiful girl spending her night hours drawing at the lighthouse, he might embarrass her like he had the woman across the pier—or even destroy her reputation.

  He would have to harbor her secret, just as she’d promised to harbor his. They would have to trust one another…until they met again.

  The steamer to his left pushed away from its berth as another ship waited behind it with new tourists to explore the island. His parents’ yacht should arrive in the next hour.

  He sat down on a bench, watching the steamer cruise across the strait.

  What if Andy left Mackinac before he was able to find her?

  He couldn’t allow himself to think about her leaving, not without seeing her again.

  * * * * *

  Elena hummed over her family’s late breakfast. The warm biscuits and fresh strawberry jam and poached eggs tasted so extraordinary that she asked Claude to give Nell her compliments.

  Her mother eyed her warily. None of them ever complimented their cook at breakfast. “Are you feeling ill again?”

  “I haven’t been ill, Mama. In fact, I feel fantastic.”

  Her mother nodded at Papa’s empty chair. “I thought you would stay in bed a couple of hours longer as well.”

  “I wasn’t tired.”

  She’d tried to rest during the hours before breakfast, but even though she’d been up all night, she hadn’t been able to sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes, Chase appeared in her mind, and the sight of him made her smile. It was childish, she knew, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.