The Seasons of the EmmaLee: One grand ship. Two love affairs, decades apart. An idyllic summer resort town torn apart by betrayal, murder and shattered dreams. (The Charlevoix Summer Series Book 1)

by Michael Lindley

  He started up kind of slow, then at the last minute pushed hard and leaped up off the rail of that bridge. Jonathan and I both turned to watch him and almost fell in ourselves. He tucked his legs up under him just like he had done this a hundred times before. We watched him roll over backwards in a slow, smooth arch and then his legs came out just as he got to the water. He threw his hands up over his head and slid down into that water without hardly making a splash.

  I remember my jaw hanging down like I had just watched Ted Williams hit a grand slam. We stood there watching the hole in the water Luke had disappeared down into, the ring of waves heading out in all directions. He didn’t come up for what seemed like the longest time. We stood there waiting for him to come up. I looked over at Jonathan and he was leaning out as far as he could, trying to see his brother.

  “Holy shit, George!” he said to me, then he yelled out, “Luke! Goddammit, Luke!”

  The water grew calm beneath us. We stood there a few moments longer, trying to see into the depths, trying to hear something. Jonathan grabbed my arm and jumped, pulling me along with him. We fell down through the air screaming at each other. It seemed like we were falling through the air forever. We hit the water with arms and legs flapping. I sunk down deep and my feet squished down into the soft mucky bottom of the lake.

  It felt like I was stuck there and I half expected to see Luke stuck next to me in the mud in the bottom of the lake. I kicked myself free and swam to the surface. Jonathan came up about the same time and we were gasping for air and looking for Luke. We were both spinning around in the water trying to spot him.

  “Luke, goddammit…” I heard Jonathan yelling again.

  Then, we both got quiet and listened, paddling to keep up on the surface. The frogs were going again, but otherwise there were no other sounds. I looked over at Jonathan and saw real fear in his eyes that night for his brother.

  Then, right between the two of us, there was a giant explosion of water that scared the shit out of both of us. I know I damned near crapped my pants when Luke jumped from up on the rail again and crashed down between the two of us. He came up about ten yards away, facing us, the boat anchored out behind him. He just shook his head at us, smiling, like we were two of the biggest chumps he had ever seen.

  Connor Harris regained consciousness at the hospital three days later. He was looking around the room when a nurse stopped by on her rounds. She called in a doctor, then went to call his parents.

  An hour later his room was full of family and friends, including Stewart Compton and his daughter Emily. Connor was awake and aware of people in the room, but he hadn’t spoken, or moved. His left eye was swollen shut, hidden by an ugly bruise the color of an angry sky in a summer storm. He had a puzzled look on his face, as people milled around and talked about him.

  The doctor had told his parents earlier it wasn’t clear whether their son had suffered any permanent brain damage from the blow he had received. He said it would take a few more days to really be sure about his recovery. Emily was standing by her father listening to Mr. Harris describe his son’s condition.

  “That damn drunk nearly killed him, Stewart,” he said. “I don’t know how the boy survived after taking a blow like that. They’ve still got that animal down at the jail. The judge reluctantly granted bail, but nobody’s come forward to post it.”

  “What has the prosecutor’s office told you so far?” Stewart Compton asked.

  “I’m insisting he do whatever’s necessary to put that boy away where he can’t hurt anyone else. They’re talking about aggravated assault. He could get some serious jail time and he deserves every bit of it,” Harris said with a bitter tone. “I brought my lawyer up from Chicago and he’s pressing the court for attempted murder. The fact Connor was in a confrontation with this McKendry kid’s brother will probably prevent that kind of charge.” He stopped and shook his head and looked over at the lifeless form of his son. “You know, it’s one thing for boys to be fighting, and God knows that Connor’s been in his share of them over the years, but it’s another thing for a boy to try to kill someone like that.”

  Emily listened to the men and didn’t know what to think. She hadn’t seen Connor get hit and had come up too late to really see what the altercation was about. She knew Connor had a temper because she had witnessed it on several occasions. She couldn’t get the image of Jonathan McKendry’s face out of her mind and the shock and disbelief she saw on it as he sat there in the grass that night. After Connor had been taken away to the hospital, she tried to talk to Jonathan. He had been too stunned to even reply. His girlfriend, Catherine, had come between them and led him away.

  She found herself thinking about Jonathan and how he was dealing with all of this.

  “The boy’s trying to convince the police it was self-defense and he was only coming to the aid of his brother,” Mr. Harris began again.

  Emily spoke before she realized what she was saying, “There were three of them against Jonathan…”

  “That’s enough, Emily!” her father interrupted. “Nothing justifies what the boy did out there that night.”

  Emily moved away and walked over to the side of Connor’s bed. He noticed her coming up and looked up at her. He looked right into her eyes without the slightest hint of recognition. She took his hand and held it in hers. “Connor, I hope you can hear me. We’re all praying for you to get better.” She smiled at him, but his expression didn’t change.

  Jonathan McKendry had finally gotten permission from his father to go down to the jail and visit his brother. The police officer led him back and placed a chair for him in front of Luke’s cell. The officer moved away a few steps and stood watching the two brothers. Luke was sitting on the bed next to the wall looking down at the floor. He hadn’t acknowledged his brother’s arrival. Jonathan sat looking at him for a few moments.

  Finally, he spoke. “Luke, what you did the other night… what I mean is, I appreciate you trying to help me.” There was no response from his brother. “Those three boys were about to tear into me and I was trying to get that Harris fellow off by himself to make it a fair fight. Then, well… I don’t know what woulda’ happened.”

  Luke didn’t look up, but grumbled in almost a whisper, “Just get out of here, you hear me?”

  Jonathan looked at the guard who didn’t change expressions. He looked back to his brother and pulled the chair closer to the bars. “Luke, I’m tellin’ them the truth… that Harris fellow was trying to start the fight and you were just protecting me from those three guys. Dad’s trying to get a lawyer from up in Petoskey to take your case. We’re gonna get you outta here, Luke.”

  His brother finally looked over at him. He stood up and walked over to the bars. Jonathan stood to face him.

  “What did I just tell you?” Luke asked in the same hushed tone.

  “Luke, you gotta let us help you.”

  “Don’t waste your time.” He turned and went back to his bed.

  The guard touched Jonathan on the sleeve and motioned with his head it was time to leave. “Luke, Dad’s tryin’ to get bail together. We’ll be back to get you outta here.” There was no response. “Luke, I’m sorry you got into this. I coulda taken those boys, then none of this would have happened.”

  Jonathan watched as his brother turned his head slowly sideways to face him. They just looked at each other for a few moments, then Luke shook his head and turned away, lying back on the bed.

  Catherine Hansen was waiting outside the jail when Jonathan came out. The sun was bright after his time in the dark building. He squinted at her through the glare.

  “How’s he doing?” she asked.

  Jonathan just started walking down the sidewalk. She joined him and asked again, “Is he doing okay?”

  “Yeah, just great,” he said with obvious sarcasm.

  “Jonathan, we need to talk about this Compton girl.”

  He didn’t respond. He just kept walking back toward home.

  “You
need to tell me if you have feelings for that girl, Jonathan.”

  His mind was spinning from the visit with his brother and his patience was as thin as December ice. He was in no mood to be challenged about anything. He had tried to put the thought out of his mind, but he couldn’t help but think none of this would have happened if Catherine had just left, as he had told her and not gotten his brother into the middle of it. He stopped and turned to face her. The familiar prettiness of her face softened his mood some and he fought to calm himself. Finally, he said, “We need to be thinking about Luke now, Catherine. There’s no more time for this nonsense about girls. You know how I feel about you.”

  She grabbed him by his arms and made him look at her. “I always thought I knew.”

  He pulled away and started walking. She didn’t follow.

  When he got back to the boatyard he heard someone working in the big building. When he walked in he saw his father up on a ladder sanding the hull of a large cabin cruiser. Jonathan looked around and saw another sanding block and picked it up and went over to the boat next to his father. He started sanding the wood in slow circles, not really paying attention to his work. His father didn’t look down and just kept working.

  “Pop, I’m afraid for Luke. I’m afraid he’s gonna go to prison and it’s really all because of me. If anyone should go to jail, it should be me. I’m the one caused all this.”

  Still no response from his father.

  Jonathan threw the sanding block against the boat’s hull in anger and the crash echoed against the close walls of the boathouse. He looked up the ladder at his father. He never stopped sanding.

  Jonathan turned in disgust and walked up to the house. He went into the kitchen and got a bottle of milk out of the ice box. He was pouring a glass when his mother walked in. She took the milk from him when he was finished pouring and put it away. The curtains in the small kitchen window were pulled back and the hot sun poured in making the room just a little too warm to be comfortable. He went over and sat at the kitchen table and watched as his mother moved about, cleaning up the kitchen.

  “Ma, I just saw Luke.” She stopped and looked over at him. “He’s ah… he’s not doin’ so well. I told him we were all tryin’ to help him. He just chased me away. I can see in his eyes he’s given up, Ma.” Jonathan could feel tears in his eyes and he wiped them away in embarrassment. “We’ve got to help get him outta there, Ma. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I’ve got to help him!”

  “Johnny, you’ve done nothing to be ashamed of and you need to stop this kind of talk. Your father’s doing everything he can now for your brother. In spite of all that’s come between those two, your father loves Luke and he’s gonna do what’s right to help him.” She wiped her hands on a towel and came over and sat at the table with him. “There’s going to be a hearing in the morning and Dad’s got a lawyer coming over tonight to meet with us and to talk to Luke. He’s a good lawyer, son.”

  “What about the bail?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s a lot of money. I know your Dad’s been down to the bank to try to borrow some money on the house, or the business, but he hasn’t got an answer yet.”

  Jonathan watched his mother get up and go back to her work. She had her uniform on from the hotel. He looked at the clock on the wall. She’d be leaving for work soon at the big hotel down at the Belvedere Club. She’d be cooking food for families like the Harris’s and the Comptons. They’d be sitting down to their fine meals and their fine wine, and Luke’s gonna be sitting over in that jail.

  He finished the milk and took the glass over to the sink. He walked out the back door and his mother didn’t say another word.

  He walked down around the boathouse to avoid his father. When he got down to the piers at the waterfront, he turned and headed up towards town, making his way along the water between the boat houses and along the docks. He could see the EmmaLee tied up at the Compton’s dock and he turned and walked up through an alley away from the water. Walking with his head down, watching his feet kick stones and thinking about his brother, he didn’t notice the girl coming down from the road.

  “Jonathan?”

  He looked up to see Emily Compton. She stood there facing him in the alley. He noticed her face looked different. She looked drawn and tired and her hair was all askew. She was dressed simply in black slacks and a red blouse. He stopped and just stared at her.

  “Jonathan….”

  He started to walk on past her and she grabbed gently at his arm. He stopped reluctantly.

  “Jonathan, I can’t believe this has all happened and I’m just so sorry it’s because you and I were together. I never thought anything bad would come from it or I never would have gone near the boat with you that day.”

  He looked into her eyes and felt a flood of emotion he couldn’t sort out. There was a depth in her eyes he struggled to look away from. He hated himself for his feelings about this girl and he started walking again, pulling his arm away.

  She caught up with him and walked alongside. “Connor’s hurt very badly,” she said. “He came back today and regained consciousness, but he doesn’t know where he’s at and he can’t speak.” She waited for a reply and didn’t receive one. “They’re not sure how much he’ll recover from all this. I know he brought this on himself and I’m not standing up for him, Jonathan. It’s just he’s been hurt so badly. I think he almost died.”

  Jonathan finally spoke, “I know he’s a friend. I know you two have feelings and for that I’m sorry about what happened,” he said honestly, sorting out his feelings while he talked. “But in a way, you know he was looking for trouble?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “My brother was just trying to help me. He wasn’t trying to kill anybody. He was just trying to help me,” he said with desperation clear in his voice.

  Emily tried to change the conversation. “My father picked up my boat for me,” she said, almost ashamed to bring it up.

  “I know.”

  “It’s a fine boat Jonathan. You did a beautiful job getting it ready for us. Thank you.”

  He stopped and looked at her again. He couldn’t help but look into those eyes. “I can’t be around you anymore, Emily.” He felt an emptiness in his gut and fought to keep his voice from cracking.

  “Jonathan,” she said, reaching out to take his hand, “Connor and I, well… we’ve been friends for a long time.”

  Jonathan just nodded.

  “We’ve grown up together here in the summers.” She paused. “I want you to know Connor is just a friend.”

  “A friend,” he answered.

  Emily looked at Jonathan and found herself caring, more than she would have imagined, that Jonathan understand.

  He stood there, surprised at her confessions.

  “Jonathan, I know it will be hard for us to spend any more time together.”

  He remembered his father’s warnings and he thought of his brother sitting down in the jail. “Emily, thanks for coming over, but I need to go.” It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew it was the right thing.

  She let go of his hand. “I understand,” she said.

  Jonathan turned and kept walking on toward town without looking back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sally sat across the table from Gwen. They had managed to get a table on the first floor of the restaurant on Bridge Street, even though it was a busy night. It was dark, but warm and welcoming and on this particular evening, packed to capacity. The bar along the wall was two-deep in patrons. The noise from the crowd was continuing to get louder and the two leaned across the table so they could hear each other.

  “We haven’t had a minute to catch up,” said Gwen. “How was your boat ride with the Clarks?”

  Sally had been thinking of little else since returning from the trip the previous night. Talking about the accident and her daughter, Ellen, had been painfully difficult, but as the boat was returning to Charlevoix and she was standing on the dec
k looking out at the waves, she felt a sense of true healing begin again. For so many years there had been this great dark place in her mind, standing between her and some sense of normalcy on the other side. Alex Clark had made it easier, certainly, and it amazed her at how easy it had been to open up to someone she had known for such a short time.

  “The boat ride?” she finally answered.

  “Yes, the boat, the rich guy and his daughter.”

  Sally reached for her wine glass and took a long drink. “We were walking on the beach and somehow we started talking about Ellen and my folks.” She took another swallow. “Gwen, it’s been more than ten years now, hasn’t it?”

  Gwen nodded.

  “So many times, I’ve felt like I’ve put those memories away, then something triggers this flood of emotion and pain all over again.”

  “You know you’ll never truly escape that. The feelings and the love are just too deep. She reached for Sally’s hand. “You’ve been incredibly strong.”

  The waiter came out and set down their plates of grilled whitefish and salads. He asked if their wine glasses needed freshening and they nodded. Sally looked around the old restaurant she had spent so many evenings in during her life. She saw a few local friends here dining and she knew most of the help. It was like every place in this town for her, comfortable and familiar. Year in and year out, the routine just continued to run on with the seasons. She had never been away for any extended period after she’d returned from school. It occurred to her she needed to think seriously about getting away for a while.

  She noticed a look on Gwen’s face she had come to know over the years. Something was bothering her. “Are you upset about the time that I’ve been spending with the Clarks?” Sally asked, then immediately regretted bringing it up.