Love Finds You in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin

by Pamela S. Meyers

  Jack’s concerned gaze ran over her face. “I won’t allow that to happen. Remember the proverb. We need to trust God.”

  Meg rolled her eyes. A few weeks ago he didn’t even own a Bible and now he was reminding her of its words. “What should I work on?”

  Jack handed her a file. “I need you to call store owners and then write a report on how recent merchant sales and the banks’ reopening have affected business. I sent Hank out to gather the latest news on the high school baseball season. Use his phone since I’ve got one of the subs at your typewriter.”

  Relieved to be working on something unrelated to her family or the contest, Meg stopped at her desk for her notepad then went to Hank’s station. She’d think about the mess with Dad later. Right now she had a story to research and a letter to mail to California.

  On Thursday morning, the crisp, hot-off-the-press edition of the News-Trib waited for Meg on the polished wood surface of her desk. Her article on the increase in merchants’ sales had been placed on the left above the fold. Feeling like a giddy teenager, she read the story as if she’d never seen it before.

  “I thought you’d like to see the piece as it published.”

  Certain she was glowing like a lightbulb, she faced Jack. “I didn’t realize you’d given it a premium location.”

  “It’s a good story.” He tilted his head. “You’re building quite a portfolio. Have you written to the man at the Examiner?”

  Feeling her smile dissolve, she nodded. “I sent it yesterday.”

  “So why the sad-sack expression?” Jack sat on a corner of her desk.

  Although they were the only two in the office, Meg lowered her voice. “I was counting on asking Dad for my education fund for my move. Now he’s not speaking to me.”

  He gently touched her arm, sending a warm feeling through her body. “Meg, you don’t have to be a part of the investigation.”

  She grimaced. Even if Jack conducted all the research, it wouldn’t stop Dad from kicking her out. “I appreciate your concern, but it’s too late. Dad will forever associate me with the matter.”

  “But it might help if he knows you’ve stepped back.”

  Dad had taught her that the truth had to prevail, no matter the cost. “If I don’t, I’ll never find out what really happened, nor will I clear Dad’s name.”

  He gave her a soft smile. “Only if you’re sure.”

  “I am.”

  “Okay. How about a visit with the jailer when the sheriff isn’t around to influence his answers?”

  Was he asking her to go there alone? How would they feel about a woman coming into the jail unescorted? “Lester’s not back until Monday. I have no way to get there.”

  “I could give you some quick driving lessons.” Jack chuckled and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t look so shocked. I was only kidding. It’s just as well Les isn’t here. The fewer who know about this rabbit trail, the better. I’ll give the jailer a call and see if he’s open to us stopping by this afternoon.”

  The outside door opened, and Emily stepped inside. “What a beautiful day. I think I’ll take my lunch to Flat Iron Park.” She reached for her hat then stared at Jack and Meg. Jack’s hand still rested on Meg’s shoulder. Emily’s eyes gleamed. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Jack pushed off the desk and stood. “Just getting a head start on next week’s edition.” He strode to Mr. Zimmer’s office and closed the door.

  Emily scooted over to Meg, her open coat flapping. “If I’d known you two were here alone, I’d have lingered outside a few more minutes.”

  Meg turned her attention to her article. “There’s nothing between us, so wipe that goofy look off your face.” If only she could convince herself of it.

  “The way his gaze lingers on you whenever you pass by or yours stays with him when his back is turned, you’re not fooling anyone.”

  Heat rushed up Meg’s neck as a memory of the almost-kiss flashed in her mind. She faced Emily’s smug expression. “That’s preposterous. We only work together.”

  The door to Mr. Zimmer’s office opened, and Jack stuck his head out. “Miss Alden, tomorrow morning we have an appointment with the man we spoke about.”

  She inwardly cringed. “Okay.”

  His head disappeared behind his door, and she looked at Emily.

  Emily giggled. “If you ask me, you two aren’t the only ones working early.” She mimed shooting an arrow from a bow. “Sly man, making an interview appointment for both of you, together, alone for a good part of the day. Zing. Cupid strikes again.”

  Meg waved toward the switchboard. “You forget, there’s a third person involved—the interviewee. Get to your station and hush your mouth.”

  “Just don’t forget to invite me to the wedding. Remember what I told you before, when you and Matthew parted ways.” Emily wended her way around the desks.

  “You are a hopeless romantic.” Meg opened her top drawer. She remembered Emily’s words—that someday God would bring her a better man than Matthew. Someone who would be faithful and love only her. Behind Meg, a door clicked shut. She spun toward Jack’s closed door. Had he heard that silly conversation? Heat spread up her neck. If he had, he was probably trying to find a way to wiggle out of that dinner date.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jack skulked back to his desk. Out the window, Fred Newman’s pickup truck rumbled past with bags of grain loaded in the back.

  Emily’s words rang in his hears. “Invite me to the wedding.” “You and Matthew.” Was Matthew this Mattie person Meg always talked about? Was he the real reason she wanted to move to California? Jack had heard it with his own ears. He should be focusing on the investigation, but how could he, when his heart felt as if it had been run over by a locomotive?

  An image of Meg’s face, full of excitement over anything involved with news reporting, tumbled into his thoughts, followed by memories of the dreamy expression on her pretty face when they almost kissed. The moment her mom went back in the house, he should have followed through and planted one on those gorgeous red lips of hers—make her think twice about returning to the cad who’d left her for California.

  He dropped into his chair. How serious was she about the guy, anyway? Maybe she was going merely on the hope that he’d welcome her back into his life. If he had already proposed, she wouldn’t be so indecisive. If she really loved the guy, would she be holding Jack’s hand or acting like she wanted him to kiss her?

  None of her family had mentioned a wedding, but if her intent was to reconcile with Matthew, maybe she hadn’t told them. They probably didn’t think so highly of the man after he broke off the relationship. Now there was a presumption. Maybe she had broken it off and was now having second thoughts.

  Well, it was a good thing Jack had learned this before getting more involved with her. He’d sworn off women before coming here. Too bad he hadn’t stuck to the plan.

  The following morning, Meg shifted against the cloth seat of Jack’s Ford and stared at the plowed fields whizzing past the window. Next to her, Jack gripped the wheel, his jaw set and lips pressed together as though they’d been sewn shut.

  He hadn’t stopped by her desk for their usual chat that morning, but she’d presumed he wanted to clear his desk before they left for the interview. Was she ever wrong.

  Another mile passed. “Got your questions ready for the jailer?” he asked evenly.

  “Of course.” Meg opened her notebook and skimmed her notes. “Do you think we can do this without the sheriff knowing?”

  Silence passed as they entered Elkhorn’s city limits. Jack shifted into a lower gear as they came to a stop sign. “The jailer told me to come to the back entrance. Let’s hope we’re not seen.”

  At the jail, a woman wearing a starched blouse, a navy skirt, and a severe bun in her hair led them to a dank room in the basement.

  Meg sat on one of the four wooden chairs around a small table, the only furniture in the cell-like space. She rubbed her arm
s against the chill. “This must be the jailer’s idea of keeping out of the sheriff’s sight.”

  Jack leaned against the stone wall. “I wonder if they use this for interrogations. An hour in here, and the most innocent man might be led to confess.” He sniffed. “It smells like something is rotting. Did you notice those two cells we passed?”

  Meg nodded, relieved that Jack’s bad mood seemed to have lifted. “Easy places to secretly jail someone and forget they’re here.”

  The door creaked open and a jowly man stepped in, his uniform shirt straining at the buttons. He held out a pudgy hand to Jack. “Deputy Munson.”

  “Jack Wallace.” The men shook, and Jack nodded at Meg. “This is Meg Alden.”

  The deputy stared at her, his eyes so dark she couldn’t discern his pupils. His brown brows lifted. “Don’t get many lady reporters in here. I hope this isn’t gonna take long.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from Meg.

  Jack took a seat and flipped his notebook open. “I don’t think it will. Sheriff O’Brien asked you a few days ago whether you recalled a man being jailed several years back without going through the proper channels. Have you had any new recollections?”

  The man’s face reddened. “Our office clerk seemed to think this was a report on how we need a new jailhouse. I brought you down here so you can see where we bring overflow prisoners. If something that crazy ever happened in the twenty-five years I’ve been here, I’d remember.”

  Meg tapped her pencil on her pad. “Perhaps the imprisonment was done without your knowledge. Maybe in one of those cells out there.” She indicated the door with her thumb.

  The deputy narrowed his eyes. “Nothing happens here without my knowing. Now, if you two don’t have any other questions, I have work to do.” He pushed back his chair on the dirt floor and stood. His trousers caught on a splinter and he yanked his leg away, sending the chair to the floor. He uttered an oath and glared at Jack. “There’s a reason I don’t come down to this dungeon.” He set the chair upright.

  Jack exchanged a look with Meg. “Thank you for your time, Deputy. We’ll find our way out.” He caught her eye and nodded toward the door.

  She gathered her belongings and scrambled to her feet. As she passed in front of Jack, relief and frustration stirred in her gut. If Munson wasn’t talking, they couldn’t print the article. But if he never went into the basement, Fred could have been held there on the sly.

  Jack got the car started and faced Meg. “Fred could have been in that dungeon a couple of days without Munson’s knowledge. Maybe the sheriff tended to Fred’s needs and then let him go in the dark of night.” He backed up and pointed the car toward Lake Geneva. “If we never get proof of this incident happening and can’t run the story, maybe things will calm for you at home and you’ll have the money to move.”

  Meg nodded. “I thought of that. Mattie is already searching for the perfect apartment for us.” She peered out the window at the rolling hills occasionally broken up by a barn or herd of grazing cattle.

  As they neared Lake Geneva, Meg stole a glance Jack’s way. The sewn-shut lips were back. Maybe over tonight’s dinner date he’d become the talkative Jack she enjoyed being around.

  “About tonight,” he said. “I should have said something earlier, but something has come up. Do you mind a rain check?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Meg scanned the clusters of people greeting each other at the front of the church before Sunday’s service. Her lackluster spirits nosedived. But did she really expect Jack to be standing in his usual place after his stony attitude on Friday? She trudged toward the steps. Let Mom and Laura wait for Dad. He wasn’t speaking to her either. Maybe before the others came she’d have a moment of quiet prayer and reacquaint herself with the One who’d promised to never leave her or forsake her.

  She stepped into the sanctuary and peered down the aisle at the family pew. Someone sat there, hunched over as if in prayer. Likely a visitor unaware of the “unofficial” seating arrangements. She approached, taking care to not let her heels clack on the wood floor. “Excuse me.”

  Jack raised his head and grinned. “Morning. I arrived early and decided I’d wait here.”

  She gaped at him. So he now took for granted that he could sit with her family? Meg chided herself. Wasn’t that what she’d done earlier, expecting him to be waiting at the curb? Why wouldn’t he presume to sit in their pew? “Slide over. The others will be here soon.”

  The family arrived a few minutes later, and Meg and Jack moved down. She turned her attention to the bulletin, trying unsuccessfully to ignore his citrusy scent—the same fragrance that had nearly caused her to let him kiss her. She glanced past her sister and mother to her father. Good thing the three Alden women sat between the men, given Dad’s hard-hearted expression. She flipped open her Bible to Proverbs and silently prayed that God would unlock His voice.

  By the time the Reverend Hellman began his sermon, Meg had ceased waiting for God to speak to her, and her thoughts drifted to California. Would their apartment be near the ocean? Hollywood appeared to be a distance from the Pacific, but Santa Monica, where Mattie lived, was near the beach. The large daily papers were probably located downtown. If they wanted to live near their jobs, she supposed they could take a bus to the beach on weekends. The beaches were probably twice the size of Lake—

  “We all need to trust God with our whole hearts.”

  At the preacher’s raised voice, Meg looked to the pulpit.

  Reverend Hellman stood in front of the lectern with a wide grin on his face. “We’ll conclude our series on trusting God by issuing a challenge. Ask yourself what parts of your life you have not wholeheartedly trusted God for and pray about surrendering those areas to Him. The last sermon in this series will occur on Mother’s Day. What an appropriate time to rededicate your whole life to God.”

  Meg traced a ketchup stain on her cast with her finger. It didn’t take a college degree to figure out her problem areas, but how could she trust God when He had turned His back on her? She shut her eyes.

  Lord, I want to trust You, but You stopped listening to me.

  She set aside her Bible and stood with the congregation. Maybe in her new home she’d hear God’s voice again.

  Mom shielded her eyes to block the late-morning sun. “Are you joining us for Sunday dinner this afternoon, Jack?”

  Meg stared at Mom. Dad hadn’t acknowledged Jack all morning. How could the man feel welcome with the head of the household holding him in disdain?

  Jack stuck his hands into his pockets and studied the ground. “I hate to decline one of your good meals, Mrs. Alden, but I think I’ll head to the office and then grab something later.” He shifted his eyes to Meg. “See you tomorrow.” His hands still in his trouser pockets, he headed down the sidewalk.

  “I hope all the rumor business hasn’t affected your friendship with Jack.” Mom came alongside Meg and touched her elbow. “I’d hoped his joining us today would return some normalcy to our lives.”

  “We’re okay. We’ve both got other things on our minds.” Meg stepped over to the curb to wait for her father. It felt like nothing would ever be normal again.

  “Hey, are you tied up with Jack?” Helen asked when she called later that afternoon.

  Meg curled the phone cord around her index finger. “He decided to work after church.”

  “I know how your father feels about Sundays being family days, but I have a yearning for pie à la mode, and I heard the Geneva Grill is now open on Sundays from four to nine.”

  Meg checked her watch. “I doubt Dad will miss me, since we aren’t speaking. Laura is at another play practice, and my father’s been in his study since dinner. I’ll meet you there at four fifteen.”

  Meg stabbed her fork into a cherry and dragged it through the melting vanilla ice cream. She lifted it to her mouth, and the sweet frozen dessert mingled on her tongue with the tart cherry filling. She closed her eyes. A little piece of heaven.

>   “Are you ready to talk moving plans?”

  Meg’s eyes popped open. No, she wasn’t ready. She wanted to savor her dessert a moment longer, not think about her lack of moving money. “Sure.”

  Helen set her coffee cup on the checked tablecloth. “Beatrice spent yesterday with Mom and me and finally agreed to take my place in the shop.” A broad grin split her face. “She’ll live with Mom, and that settled it for me.”

  “What about your mom’s health setback?”

  “She’s fine now, but her arthritis does have a nasty habit of coming and going. I was leery of moving so far away, but with Mom’s encouragement and Beatrice’s moving in, there’s nothing to keep me here. How does boarding the California Express on May thirty-first sound?”

  Meg scrunched her nose. “Something is nagging me about that day. And I haven’t yet heard from Mr. Gibbons about the job at the Examiner. As for the funds—”

  The outside door at the front of the restaurant opened, and Meg glanced over. Her nerves snapped to attention. Where is all that work he had to do? She ducked her head and forked a large piece of pie, stuffing it into her mouth.

  “Well, fancy meeting you ladies here.”

  At Jack’s comment, Meg lifted her head and ran her eyes over Ginny’s pale-green knit dress and matching cardigan. Meg caught Jack’s gaze then swallowed her half-chewed pie and forced a smile. With a shaking voice, she said, “Long time no see.”

  He frowned. “I guess it was just a few hours ago.”

  Ginny’s red lips formed a perfect O. “And what were you two doing together on a Sunday morning? I hope not working.”

  “We attended church.” Jack glanced at the half-eaten desserts. “Looks like you’re at the end of your meal, or we’d join you.”

  Helen pushed out one of the two empty chairs and offered a smile that would have stopped cameras from rolling, if there’d been any around. “Forgive our manners. We should have asked. We’d love to visit while you eat.”