Turnagain Love (Sisters of Spirit #1)

by Nancy Radke

  He was grinning smugly and with sudden insight, she asked, “What were you doing when you fell in?”

  His hazel eyes twinkled, his entire face changed as the dancing smile darted across it. “The first time? Trying to untangle my fishing line. The second? Trying to catch my boat before it drifted away.”

  “Well, stay dry this time. That water’s cold.”

  He chuckled softly and went out on the deck.

  What a change a smile could make. Now that he was being hospitable and no longer putting her in her place, he was extremely attractive. She had to force herself to remember his earlier caustic remarks.

  Don’t be deceived, she reminded herself severely. He hasn’t given in...he just thinks you’ve given up. The battle had barely begun.

  A quick wash made her feel better and two peanut butter sandwiches stopped the worst of the hunger. If they continued to eat in the boat, they should bring some groceries back from the house.

  She went out on the deck to watch the pale glitter of the moon upon the quiet water. There was tidal action here, but the ocean breakers were blocked by Vancouver Island.

  The evening was lovely. Both sky and water stayed light as the land began to darken. Nearby, a large cormorant sat on a piling, watching him fish, its long black, snake-like neck crooked, its wings slightly outspread.

  Jennel settled on the chair beside Brutus, out of Zack’s way. Neither spoke, enjoying the stillness of the evening. Soon a crisp wind developed, making it too cold to sit out, so she went inside. Zack followed, having caught nothing of importance.

  He put his pole away, turned on the cabin lights and got out a chess set, asking if she played. Jennel had been a chess champion in high school, but didn’t bother telling him.

  The game quickly became intense. Used to easy wins, Jennel didn’t give it her full attention at first, watching the smooth movement of his strong fingers as he placed the pieces upon the board, dreamily enjoying the pleasant interlude of companionship. He made two strategic moves, and she woke up fast. He knew what he was doing and would wind this game up in three more moves unless she gathered her thoughts and attacked.

  A quick glance caught him eyeing her with speculative challenge, as if to say, “What are you going to do about that?”

  Blinking to take her focus off him, she studied the board. To save her queen, she had to sacrifice a knight. She moved and saw him nod with approval. Again their glances met, and the battle was joined.

  Resting his chin on his hands, he frowned down at the board while she tried to quiet the rapid thrum of her heart, set off by his unspoken praise. She realized it was going to be extremely hard to keep her mind on the game. He had two cowlicks she hadn’t noticed before, creating a swirl of hair near the crown of his head. The tips of his ears—

  “Your turn.” His glance flicked upward, and she recoiled slightly with embarrassment. What move had he made?

  Since she thought better with her hands active, she unconsciously released her braid as she stared at her small army, debating a counter-move.

  “Do you have to do that?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he muttered, but he looked uncomfortable, shifting in his chair.

  “I didn’t realize I was doing anything.”

  “Forget it.”

  Well, if he wasn’t going to tell her what was bothering him...! She was no mind reader. Her fingers slowly worked through the strands, separating them, and she realized he was watching the slow, almost hypnotic, movements. Turning her hands slightly, she glanced at them and then at him, in question. In response, he left the table and fixed some coffee.

  Jennel had learned chess from her father as a lesson in strategy. He applied military tactics, and one of them included breaking the “enemy’s” concentration. If her hair bothered Zack, she would leave it down. Two moves later she had his queen.

  He tried every which way to beat her, playing as ruthlessly as if in a major tournament, until only a king and knight remained to each...and it was nearing midnight.

  “Let’s call this a stalemate,” Zack said after staring quietly at the board for five minutes. “You don’t know when to quit, and I don’t either. We could keep chasing each other around ’til daybreak.”

  “I agree. You’re very good.”

  “You, too. Something tells me you’ve played more than just the odd game here and there. Were you in any tournaments?”

  “Yes. In high school and college.”

  His eyebrow flicked upward. “Chess champion?”

  “In high school.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “Were you in any? Tournaments, I mean.”

  “No.” He shook his head, grinned, and said, “I had a good teacher.”

  “Who?”

  “Clyde.”

  “Clyde?”

  “Yes. He loves the game. He’d take me fishing and after it got dark, we’d play chess. Sometimes I think he took me as much for the game as for the fishing.”

  “Clyde doesn’t look like the chess type.”

  “Don’t let that charter captain exterior fool you. That ‘old home boy’ act is just for the tourists.”

  “I see.” He had played the role to perfection, making her think he’d forgotten to tell her about the house. But maybe he hadn’t. If not, why not? And why had Clyde agreed so easily to stay away? She had to ask him next time she got him alone.

  “Clyde’s sharp. Sneaky, too. He plays a lot like you do. I thought I had you a time or two, but you got away from me.” He leaned back and stretched, and she rose to put their coffee cups in the sink.

  She was not the tidiest of individuals, preferring to do her dishes twice a week and the rest of her housework, excluding laundry, two or three times a month. But she had made a determined effort, in Zack’s ship-shape boat, to pick up and put away all her things. Therefore, she washed, rinsed and dried the cups and put them in their place on the shelf. Too bad Zack didn’t notice the extra pains she took for him.

  “It hurts when you lose your queen,” she sympathized. If that hadn’t happened, he would have beaten her. He had captured her queen when she sacrificed it to save her king. They were very evenly matched.

  “I was careless,” he grumbled, picking up the board and pieces and putting them away.

  “Same here.”

  “One of my foremen likes the game. We play whenever I visit the site where he’s working. He’s fairly easy to beat, so I’ve been getting slack.”

  If they played again, she was going to go all out to win from the start. He didn’t strike her as one who had been defeated very often, at least not lately. It would do him good. It was one place where his size and strength didn’t count.

  Jennel thought that many people blessed with a lot of strength seemed to think that being physically strong automatically made them the leader in any situation. It might’ve been true in the old days when might made right, but in a cultured society, strong people were apt to be a colossal pain.

  She removed the bandages, finding the tiny cuts healed. Zack insisted on checking, one large hand encompassing her ankle while he gently ran a thumb over the healed area. His touch sent the pulse leaping in her throat, a tensing of muscles and breath, and she involuntarily jerked back.

  “Sorry. Does it tickle?”

  “It’s...it’s okay. Just a little.” Better that than him thinking she was reacting to his touch. She wanted him to continue, to savor the feel of his gentle hands on her skin, but she didn’t want him to know it.

  She was becoming more and more attracted to him, and that wasn’t good. Not if she was going to keep her business intact. She had to keep her mind clear, unclouded with emotion, ready to do battle.

  “They’re in good shape,” Zack said, holding her foot for a moment longer, his fingers gently massaging the smooth skin.

  It sent Jennel’s pulse racing faster, and finally, in self-defense, she pulled her foot away. “Yes. That smelly ointment works.”


  Their second night was a repeat of the first. Zack asleep almost instantly, Jennel lying awake for awhile because of her nap, conscious of him lying beside her.

  It had been fun playing chess with him. More fun than with her father, who was a poor loser and played like he was in World War III. Zack groaned when she captured a piece he had overlooked, but did so with a smile.

  He was independent, self-reliant; a talented professional. He also had a bulldog tenacity to hang on to what he had. A characteristic she liked in a man, but which would give her problems in keeping her job here.

  Despite wanting to be near Zack, despite the comforts of the boat, she would fix up a bed in the house. She really ought to do that...tomorrow.

  Tomorrow she must finish her sketches and do the color boards, then mail them to New York. When Mrs. Van Chattan saw them, she’d insist Jennel stay as her designer. Then Zack would have to stop trying to make her leave.

  Next morning Jennel had a big breakfast of fruit and oatmeal. The ocean air made her hungry. Zack ate with her, but fixed himself three eggs and toast.

  “Don’t forget now,” he called back as he went out to join his crew. “Be ready when Clyde comes.”

  “I will,” she promised easily, since Clyde wasn’t coming.

  After Zack left, she tidied the boat and put her luggage down with her sleeping bag. Satisfied that all her things were neatly stowed away, she took her water colors and blank color boards, and worked her way through the trees. On the northeast side of the island, she found a secluded nook overlooking a small cove.

  There she could look across at Mount Baker. Clyde had pointed the dormant volcano out to her, explaining how geologists thought it might be the next to erupt. It was completely covered with snow, its round top dominating the scenery.

  She was going to have to come back with her camera and take some pictures, otherwise her friends would never believe her. They had all urged her to take the job, especially her last boyfriend, reminding her that “absence makes the heart grow fonder.” It wasn’t true. She hadn’t thought of him since she’d arrived.

  Instead, Zack dominated her thoughts. He was made handsome by his personality more than his picture-perfect looks. He reminded her somewhat of the New England fishermen, strong and rugged and self-possessed. When he wasn’t mad at her, he was quite something.

  Blessed with a vivid visual recall, Jennel picked up her sketchpad and did several faces, catching the snap of his eyes, alight and animated under jutting brows. Rumpled hair, square jaw, mobile lips about to twitch into laughter.

  Her heart beat stronger as she gazed at the shape of his lips on the last sketch. They were so expressive. What would they feel like in a kiss? Would they be as firm and masterful as she had drawn them? Sighing, for she probably would never find out, she shaded in the shadow beneath the lower lip.

  A touch of pride was strongly evident in all her sketches of him, and she eyed them ruefully. If only he’d give a little and accept her! That pride made her feel unnecessary in spite of her excellent designs.

  She stared down at her sketches and tenderly traced her finger along his jawline. She had made him better looking than he was. Yet that was how she saw him. At least she was able to see Zack as a man apart and not as a composite of all the dominating men she’d run into—primarily her father.

  She’d done that at first, but his sense of humor, his quick temper that instantly disappeared, plus his kindness even when he was angry with her, all helped her realize that he was unique—steel under velvet. A strong man, but not against her.

  At least not her personally. He didn’t want her interfering. He didn’t want her re- designing anything of his plans. But as a woman, he seemed to have accepted her. Was that enough? She mulled over the thought for a long time. All this time they’d been together, he’d never mentioned her designs. It was as if she’d never created them. Evidently he had closed his mind to them, once he had given his ultimatum.

  Clamping down on her turbulent thoughts, she closed her notebook and picked up the first of the color boards, then paused to soak in the peace of the island.

  Sitting beside a tall cedar, she was rewarded by the sight of a killdeer and his mate, twitting and bobbing along, inspecting the area near the water’s edge. A soaring osprey dove for fish and came up with one flapping helplessly, while a Grebe did a sinking submarine act for its food.

  There were other birds, many and varied and all paying no attention as Jennel finished her sketches and began to add color.

  For her interiors she used the muted greens of the Douglas firs, the silver blues of the water, the soft apricot pink of lichen on a nearby rock, a gray from some driftwood, the beige of marsh grass—all toned down into light washes that endued her delicate line drawings with a subtle kiss of color.

  Once she spotted two whales, their bodies clear in the water as they passed beyond the cove: a gray whale and her darker calf. Jennel was close enough to hear the short explosive sighs as the mammoth creatures vented air, yet high enough to see their entire length. If only Zack was here to see them, too. Then her joy would be complete.

  It was as if the islands themselves were welcoming her presence. She found herself rapidly falling in love with them.

  By late afternoon, she laid the final board down to dry. Done. A harmony for two people of opposite tastes. She had been confident she could do it, but until the finished designs had been illustrated, she had not actually known.

  The completion of such a difficult task gave her even more confidence and a warm glow of satisfaction. If only she could show them to Zack, share this part of her life with him, knowing he would approve and be pleased with the results. It would make her achievement even more rewarding. As it was, she felt cheated out of part of the joy she should have experienced over her achievement.

  Stretching out her cramped muscles, Jennel looked again at her boards, propped around her. They were very good. There was no way Zack would be able to deny it, unless he had such a fragile ego that he couldn’t admit when the competition was good.

  No. The chess game had proved that. But would he allow her designs in his final plans?

  Her eyes drooped sleepily, and she dozed in the sun.

  Zack watched the dock on Turnagain Island approach, searching illogically for Jennel’s figure. He couldn’t help himself, even though he knew Clyde planned to pick her up this morning. Clyde had a reputation for being dependable. When he said he’d do a thing, he did it.

  “Almost there.” The youth steering the boat cut the engine. “You want any of us to come in with the helicopter?”

  “Yes. Send Mike over with it. You did a full day’s work today. I think it’s time for a raise.”

  “Really? Thanks Zack.”

  “You’ve earned it. So long.”

  “Bye.”

  Zack stepped onto the float and watched the boat leave. He enjoyed solitude, never feeling lonely while in the San Juans. That was why he had arranged to be here for these few days while his main group of workers finished a previous job.

  So why did the dock area seem so empty?

  Brutus barked, making Zack smile. “Here, boy,” he called, slapping his hands on his knees. “Good dog.”

  He fended off the big dog’s exuberant greeting and climbed aboard his boat. Feeling deserted and very low, he looked around for something to keep him busy.

  He could do some paperwork, that always needed doing. No. He didn’t think he could settle to that. Perhaps he should unload some more equipment.

  Straightening, he looked with disgust at the island. When had it lost its magic?

  “Get down, Brutus.” He pushed the dog away and sat in the captain’s chair, brooding.

  “This isn’t getting me anywhere,” he told the sorrowful-eyed animal. “I think I’ll cut down those tall firs this afternoon, instead of in the morning. That way they’ll be done before the ’copter comes.”

  Tying Brutus on the deck, he picked up his chain saw and
started along the trail. Some hard work should snap him out of the doldrums. It was only five o’clock, leaving plenty of daylight remaining.

  Jennel opened her eyes wide, startled by the loud thrum of a hummingbird investigating the red patch on her scarf. When she painted, she usually got paint all over everything, so she had dressed in old jeans and a black blouse, topped with a brightly colored scarf. The bird hovered for a few more seconds, then darted away in a series of swift moves interspersed with slow hoverings.

  Such a lovely creature! Such a lovely place. She just had to stay longer. If a person lived here, he’d never have to go on vacation.

  If only Zack wasn’t so determined to get rid of her.

  Wide awake once more, she packed her case and started back, walking with care to avoid stepping in the hundreds of rabbit holes dotting the area.

  At the crest of the island, Jennel took one long look back. Mt. Baker was glowing gold in the late afternoon sun, the land below it lost in haze, the nearer islands sharp and clear. Magnificent! Her artist’s mind was caught and held.

  Then an annoying whine, a buzzing sound that rose and fell in volume, demanded her attention, and she looked curiously around for the source.

  A motor, perhaps a small motor boat, but that didn’t sound quite right. A weed cutter? That was more like it. Had Zack come back already?

  It sounded like it was near the house, and she walked more rapidly, curious. It ran for a while, then died down to a low put-put.

  As she entered the more heavily forested side of the island near the house, the knee-high undergrowth made walking difficult. As she fought her way through a particularly dense section, the motor started again, a long continuous sound, rocking in volume.

  It stopped as she stepped out in a small clearing.

  Zack stood several yards away at the base of a large fir. His gaze was directed upward, toward the top of the tree. He hadn’t seen her.

  She followed his gaze. The top made a small circle, as if stirred by a wind coming from several directions.

  She heard a metallic clank, and looked back towards Zack to see him pounding something into the trunk. Metal upon metal. The sound rang through the clear air like harsh music.