Next Comes Love

by Helen Brenna

  “You sit tight. The cops on this case are good men and good detectives.”

  “I want to come home, Teddy. I need to find Marie.”

  “That’s a bad idea. You come back and he’ll take Jason away from you.”

  “But I—”

  “Erica, there’s nothing you can do here.” He paused. “I’m sticking with this until the end. Okay? I promise.”

  “Thanks.” As Erica hung up the phone the little hope she’d been harboring that Marie might still be alive dwindled to near nothing. She slumped against the wall in the hallway of her apartment and cried.

  “Erica.” Suddenly Garrett was there, steadying her. “What happened?”

  Another place, another time, another man, and she would’ve rubbed her eyes dry and stood on her own two feet. So far she’d handled everything life had thrown in her face, and this was no different. Except that Garrett was different. Except that she was more frightened than she’d ever been in her life.

  One look into her eyes and he pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried. Held her without a word, without question, and she completely let go. Finally exhausted, she drew in a shaky breath and leaned back. “I’m sorry.” She touched the big wet spot she’d left on his shirt.

  He grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly. “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t do that. It’s not safe.”

  “You can trust me. You know it.”

  She shook her head and rubbed her cheeks dry.

  “Erica Corelli,” he whispered her real name.

  She stared at him. He had known. “What do you want from me?”

  “The truth.”

  “You won’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  “There’s too much at risk, Garrett.”

  “I’ve known who you are for weeks now. You don’t start talking and I’ll be putting in a call to the Chicago PD.”

  Still, she didn’t say anything.

  He grabbed her arms. “Tell me the truth, Erica, or I’ll be making that call.”

  “If I tell you everything, what then? You’re a cop. I’m a person of interest.”

  “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

  She yanked away from him.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

  “No!” She put her hand over his and pushed the phone down. “Okay. The truth.” She paced back and forth, calculating, measuring, looking for any possible escape. There wasn’t one.

  “I’m all you got, Erica. You have nothing to lose by telling me the truth and everything to gain.”

  “My name is Erica Corelli.” Relief in letting go washed over her in great waves. Until now, she hadn’t realized the toll all the lying and withholding of information had been taking. As tears trailed down her cheeks, she told him everything from the very beginning. The truth.

  “You never went back to your apartment?”

  “No. As soon as I got Marie’s message I went to Jason’s school. When she didn’t meet us at the restaurant, I left town with Jason.”

  He had his cop face on. Brusquely, he wiped her tears away. “Do you know where she is now? Marie?”

  “No. She’d call my cell if she could.”

  “Not necessarily. Cops can get those records. Billy could potentially see your in and outgoing calls.”

  “Can he find me here?”

  “If you’ve used your cell phone.” He nodded. “Have you?”

  “No.”

  “Where is she? What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know, but there are bad cops, you know.”

  He was silent a moment. “Yeah, I know.”

  “What if she’s dead?”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I’m starting to feel it. In here.” She tapped her chest. “I might’ve been able to do something. If I’d gone to their house, if I’d stayed and confronted him. She needed me and I didn’t do anything.”

  “You did what she asked. You protected Jason.”

  She rubbed her face dry. “You going to call the Chicago PD?”

  He nodded.

  “You can’t! I trusted you—”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her still. “I need to find out what the detectives on the case know. If you’re telling me the truth, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ERICA LAY IN BED, LETTING the morning breeze from the open window blow over her bare arms. Lynn had made her take the day off, claiming that next week, the first week of July, would be the busiest of the entire summer and she wanted Erica fresh and revived.

  She glanced over at Jason, sleeping soundly on his side with his mouth wide-open. As she pulled the covers up and over his shoulders, she wondered if he was ever going to be comfortable sleeping alone in his own bed before they had to leave Mirabelle. The thought of having to pull up stakes and move depressed her more than she’d expected.

  Rolling out of bed, she tiptoed down the hall and snuck into the kitchen. After starting a pot of coffee, she jotted down another one of her recipes in a notebook she’d started for Lynn. After all Lynn had done, the least Erica could do is make sure business at the pub wouldn’t be interrupted if Erica had to leave quickly.

  She cracked open the kitchen window and glanced out at the view of the water, letting her sleepy mind wander. It was early, the sun barely rising over that big water, but she could hear a boat motoring around the marina. Most likely, it was the ex-police chief, Jim Bennett, who apparently wintered in Florida and ran a charter fishing operation during the summer months. Nice life.

  Waves rolling ashore, boat motors and gulls cawing, the marina sounds were so different from the drone of traffic, horns honking and sirens wailing. A city the size of Chicago was never quiet, and it was a lonely place. So many people, but no one Erica had called friend. Not once had she really missed the big city, the clubs, nightlife or restaurants.

  The realization that she might actually like living here on Mirabelle shocked her. This island’s slow pace, the peace and quiet and, more than anything, the people, everything seemed to have come together to create an experience Erica hadn’t expected. She’d imagined the islanders would be close-knit and exclusionary, but instead of shutting her out, each and every one of the people she’d met had welcomed her with open arms. Except for Garrett.

  Her sense of tranquility dissolved at the thought of him. Cop. But it wasn’t that simple. He’d promised to help her, and although a part of her was wary, a bigger part of her was beginning to trust him. And that, more than anything, scared her.

  Her feelings toward Garrett were a jumble of conflicting emotions. One minute she felt like smacking his arm and the next she wanted to smack his lips. Without saying a word, he managed to rattle something deep inside her, roused something primal and visceral. Could that be all there was to it? Sex? Could it be as simple as getting laid and then all would be well? Unfortunately, there was only one man on this island in whom she was interested.

  “Erica?” The soft and sleepy voice came from behind, interrupting her thoughts. Jason.

  “Hey, there.” She lifted him up and set him on the counter. “How you doing this morning?”

  “Okay.”

  “Guess what? I have the day off.”

  “Can I still play with Brian?”

  “I don’t think so.” Sarah’s parents had come to help out with Brian since Sarah had three weddings this weekend. This was the first time Erica had Jason to herself for an entire day since they’d come to the island. “He’s doing something with his grandparents.”

  From the frown on Jason’s face, he wasn’t as excited about spending the day with her as she was about time with him. “Ah, come on.” Erica nudged his arm. “It’s my first day off in a long time and I want to do something with you.”

  “All right.” That was a lackluster response if she’d ever heard one. He
jumped down from the counter, wandered into the living room and picked up his video game.

  “So what should we do? Jason?”

  Not bothering to look up, he said, “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, come on. You must have something in mind.”

  At that, he glanced at her, looking angry. “Why do you want to do something with me anyway?”

  “Because…well, because I like you.”

  He went back to the game. “You’re stuck with me, that’s all.”

  “Hey.”

  “It’s true.” Without taking his fingers off the handheld device, or his gaze off the small screen, he kept talking. “The minute Mom comes to get me I won’t see you again. Just like I didn’t see you before. You don’t want me. You’d rather work.”

  Some of what he’d said was right, the perceptive little stinker, but she’d been getting better at this mothering thing. She sat down on the coffee table in front of him. “Can you put the game away for a minute, so we can talk?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  She waited.

  Finally, he set it aside and stared at her.

  “You’re right. I have been working a lot. We needed the money.”

  Jason picked at the sofa cushion.

  “Okay, I’ll be honest. I wasn’t sure what to do with you. How to act. How to be. What to say, do, not do. I’m not a mom.”

  “Is that why you never came to my house in Chicago?”

  Erica had purposefully steered clear of bad-mouthing Billy, but—Billy be damned—the record needed some straightening. “The reason I didn’t see you much back home didn’t have anything to do with me not wanting to.”

  He looked away.

  “I’m going to be straight with you.” She paused. “I came to the hospital when you were born. Your dad took my gift and told me you and your mom were sleeping. I didn’t get it at the time, but that was the beginning of your dad keeping me away from you and your mom.

  “I’d call Marie and suggest for us to get together for holidays or weekends here and there, but your dad usually had a reason why it wouldn’t work. I always called on your birthdays. Did you know that?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Your dad always had an excuse why I couldn’t talk to you,” she said. “I sent cards and gifts, but I’m going to guess you didn’t know that, did you?”

  This time he shook his head.

  She tapped the video game device he’d been playing. “I gave you this for your last birthday.”

  “My dad gave it to me.”

  “The wrapping paper. Did it have all different kinds of balls on it?”

  “I don’t—” He stopped, thinking. “Yeah. It did.”

  “I picked that paper because I didn’t know your favorite sport.”

  “I remember.” He looked up. As understanding dawned, tears glistened in his eyes. “It had footballs and soccer balls. Basketballs and baseballs.”

  She nodded. “I tried, Jason. I did.”

  “My dad is mean.”

  She let him come to his own conclusions.

  “He hits my mom.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore, okay?” She pulled him into a hug. “From now on, no matter what happens, nothing and no one will keep me away from you. I promise.”

  She’d do anything and everything possible to keep Billy away from Jason. Along with that realization came another. The day was going to come when she would have to leave Mirabelle. She’d miss it, the island, the people. She’d miss Garrett.

  She let Jason go and smiled. “So what do you want to do today?”

  He thought for a moment and then grinned up at her. “I’ve never gone horseback riding.”

  “There’s a first time for everything!”

  GARRETT HAD RETURNED Mrs. Gilbert’s rolltop desk many weeks ago, only to have her drag out an old cedar chest in dire need of refinishing. She said she wanted it for one of the guest rooms and there was absolutely no hurry, and he hadn’t the heart to refuse. Refinishing was a nice change from building or repairing, and the hand-carved scrollwork on the front of the chest had intrigued him.

  Working from top to bottom, it’d taken him a few days to strip the entire piece and he was now sanding it, working from bottom to top. Pulling the sanding block away, he blew at the wood dust and ran his fingertips along the dry surface. Smooth as a baby’s bottom. The finish was as good as it was going to get. He vacuumed up all the wood particles on the chest and the floor around him, and then went about rubbing on a light stain over the entire surface of the chest.

  This was his favorite part, bringing out the grain on a good piece of wood. Slowly, with every stroke the chest morphed from pale nondescript chunks of wood into a work of art. The only thing he liked better was designing his own pieces with exactly the right types of wood. He’d been stockpiling some cherry, hoping to design something worthy of the fine wood.

  When he finished staining Mrs. Gilbert’s chest, he stood back and examined every square inch. All was even. He cleaned up and decided to head into the house for something to eat. As he stepped out of his workshop and into his yard, he heard voices coming up his drive.

  “I want to see where this road goes.” It was a child. A boy. “Come on. Please.”

  “I’m sure it’s private.” That was Erica.

  Jason must be with her.

  Garrett peered through the thickly leaved trees and discovered them on horseback. Walking to the top of the drive, he called out, “Hey, there.”

  “Garrett!” Jason and his old gray appaloosa trotted into the yard. “Is this where you live?”

  “Yep. This is it.” Garrett nodded, feeling a surprising sense of pride. His ten acres, loaded with a variety of thick old pines and hardwoods, was located on the outskirts of town and away from the typical tourist track. Although he’d paid a pretty penny for the place, by Chicago standards it’d been a steal. He wondered what they—Erica in particular—would think of it.

  “We’re exploring the island,” Jason said.

  “Well, it’s about time.”

  Erica directed her horse, a chestnut mare with a white stripe down the center of its face and white stockings, next to Jason’s. “Garrett. I’m sorry—”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” He waved it off. “Sally McGregor’s place is about the only property on the island you have to worry about trespassing on. Except for maybe one of the houses on the uninhabited side of the island. I’ve heard that guy gets prickly about visitors, but you two won’t be making it all the way down there.”

  He grabbed the reins and held the horses still. “So Arlo let you take the horses out alone, huh?” he said, trying for some normalcy.

  “I’ve been helping him in the stables, so the horses know me,” Jason said. “We promised not to gallop.”

  “I was a little leery, but Arlo said these two are as gentle as they come.” Erica grinned. “And know their own way home in case we fall off.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.”

  Erica looked over his yard and home. “This is beautiful. I saw a painting once of a big log cabin just like your house at a store in the mall. You know, one of those places with bird feeders and cheesy mailboxes that look like fish?”

  He nodded. “Do you want to come inside? Get a snack or something?” He glanced up at her. “Lord knows you’ve fed me enough.”

  She looked hesitant, as if entering his home would be too personal, as if it might change things between them. She was probably right. Things between them had changed enough already. A woman couldn’t cry on a man’s shoulder for damned close to a half an hour without things changing.

  “You don’t have to come in,” he offered quickly. “That is, if you don’t want. I can bring something outside. Something to drink?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “I’m thirsty,” Jason said.

  “The least I can do is get you some water or a soda.”

  “All right.”<
br />
  They dismounted and Garrett tied the horse’s reins to a tree branch in the shade near the edge of the yard. “I’ll be right back.” He went into the house, grabbed some water and a couple cans of soda and headed back outside. Erica was sitting on the porch steps and Jason was climbing onto an A-framed wooden patio swing Garrett had made for the Rock Point Lodge.

  “Is it okay if he swings on that?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He held out his selection of beverages. “He can test it out for me.”

  She grabbed a bottle of water. “You made it?”

  He nodded. “Carl Andersen ordered ten of them for his hotel. That’s one of the last two.” He brought a can of soda to Jason and returned to sit next to Erica on the steps.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s okay. A little too rustic for my tastes.”

  “You live in a log cabin.”

  “I’m a city boy, remember?”

  She laughed. “So what are the winters like on Mirabelle? For a city boy?”

  “Quiet. Peaceful. No traffic sounds. No trains.” He looked away, remembering. “You can step outside your front door and hear the snow falling on the ground.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “It’s better than nice. It’s like heaven.”

  “Heaven.” An emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on passed over her features. “You don’t mind the cold?”

  “It’s colder longer than in Chicago, but, no, I don’t mind. Why? You thinking of staying past summer?”

  She looked away. “I don’t think so.”

  Strange, how the thought of her leaving didn’t set well. Not anymore.

  “Did you call the Chicago police?” she asked.

  Although Garrett hadn’t talked directly to Dave Hatcher or Gary Gable—two seasoned cops he’d collaborated with on a couple cases—he’d breathed a long sigh of relief when he’d found out several weeks ago the powers that be had put these two very smart and honest cops on the case.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And?”

  “I’ve left a couple messages. We’re playing phone tag.”

  “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that. You have enough on your mind.”