Chapter Three

Adaleigh grabbed her cream sweater from her bag and followed David out the front door as he slapped on his flat cap. He’d taken five minutes to change into a collared shirt, dark dress pants, and a gray sweater jacket. He cut as handsome a look as he did in just his shirtsleeves. Not that she was looking.

Outside, stars blinked in the pink sky, and a stiff breeze blew in from the lake. The air, though still warm from the day, had Adaleigh pulling her sweater tighter around her shoulders. For the first time in weeks, she felt … normal, which is why she’d ignored caution and accepted David’s suggestion.

They walked three blocks east and two blocks south before they reached the northern end of the wharf—or boardwalk, as Adaleigh considered it. It stretched half-a-mile south, if she’d judged the distance correctly this afternoon. Bordered by shops, restaurants, and boat docks, it had seemed a tame place by day, but tonight, it pulsed with energy, as David had said it would.

Gas lamps Adaleigh hadn’t noticed before lined the boardwalk, casting a flickering glow that reflected on the pale yellow of her cotton dress. Light also spilled from every doorway, along with music and voices. On the waterside, the docked boats swayed, brightening up the night with song, light, and laughter.

… When sorrows like sea billows roll ... Thou hast taught me to say … it is well with my soul. Horacio Spafford’s hymn danced through Adaleigh’s thoughts, causing hope to whisper for the first time since the fateful day that landed her here.

“Great, isn’t it?” The light reflected in David’s light-brown eyes, making them sparkle.

Adaleigh smiled back, caught up in how relaxed this stranger made her feel. Perhaps it was a connection built from his rescue of her, but perhaps it was something deeper. He made her forget her troubles. Gave her hope that she might be safe again someday. A dream, when hiding meant survival, but she could indulge the daydream for a night. Right?

David directed her down the boardwalk, one hand lightly resting on her back to aid in dodging other pedestrians, the other indicating various points of reference—the police boat dock, the lighthouse at the mouth of the harbor, places his mother would take them as kids to play. People they passed called out a rowdy hello. Most knew David’s name. There was something special about small towns.

Technically, Adaleigh grew up in a small town not far from Chicago. It had possessed the outward charm while lacking substantial reality. With every house a sweeping monolith to wealth, what could a person expect? Every couple weeks, they would attend a party at one of those houses. They’d wear their Paris-designed dresses, their hair perfectly curled, everything elegant and refined. Money created an alluring facade, but pretentiousness drained any essence of a small town. Any kindness.

Tears sprouted and Adaleigh quickly blinked them away.

“You sure you’re up for this?” David rubbed the back of his neck. “I meant what I said. No obligations. I work eighty hours a week, so it is unusual for me—”

Adaleigh took his arm to stop his rambling. “I’m glad you asked me. Honest.”

The bustling boardwalk faded as he studied her, his eyes squinting, gazing into hers before glancing at her hand resting on his muscled forearm, then to her lips, and back to her eyes. She held her breath. Would he really like what he saw if he knew all about her?

“What were you thinking about?” He leaned a shoulder against the gaslight post beside them, his stature casual, but Adaleigh wasn’t fooled by the laid-back air. Nevertheless, the light cocooned them in a world all their own and, heaven help her, she wanted to tell him.

Adaleigh fidgeted with the button on her sweater. “I was thinking about my mom.”

“I know a thing or two about missing a mother. Tell me about yours?”

She raised her head to find David’s expression full of compassion. Gracious, she was going to cry! Adaleigh forced the emotion back and focused on the water lapping at the boardwalk. “She was like a fairy godmother, you know, from the tales? She could turn little ol’ me into someone resembling a princess.” Once she scrubbed off the remnants of tomboy and athlete of course.

“Little ol’ you?”

Adaleigh shrugged. “I wasn’t much for tea and needlepoint. As much as Mom tried, I was usually more comfortable outside.” Following the gardener around or exploring the stables. “But she would cajole me into a lacy dress, especially once I became old enough to attend fancy parties. Those nights were magical.” Designed to introduce her to a prince.

“And yet …” David shook his head. “Not my place to pry.”

“And yet I left. That’s what you were going to say. You’re right.” She couldn’t prevent a tinge of bitterness in her response.

A lively tune sung by occupants of one of the boats behind her dueled with the cacophony of voices from the crowd that suddenly hemmed them in. Adaleigh’s lungs constricted, as if the lake breeze had been swept out to sea, taking the air with it.

She gripped David’s wrist, steeling herself against the rising panic. She couldn’t let it take hold. Not now. Not here. She didn’t want to lose the moment.

It took quick maneuvering, but David broke them free of the cluster of people. Something had scared Leigh. The past or the present, he wasn’t sure. Since she reached out to him for what he guessed was security, he pried his wrist free in order to weave his callused fingers between her smooth ones, and squeezed. She closed her eyes. Raised her face to the cool air.

He couldn’t help noticing she fit perfectly beside him. Though tall in her own right, she stood several inches shorter than him. Long brown hair, mostly held back in a thick braid, wisped across her face as she turned her head.

When was the last time he’d taken a lady on a date? His admission to Leigh was all too true—eighty hours a week was a low estimate of how much he worked. But, honestly, no one had interested him enough to give him reason to take a day off. Until Leigh.

She seemed oblivious to him now, as if she had transported herself to another time and place. Maybe revisiting those magical moments with her mom. He could relate to those wistful memories.

A smile played about her lips. Suddenly, a tear slipped down her cheek and she shuddered. Her eyes popped open, apprehension filling them.

Words caught on his tongue.

“You sure act fast.” Samantha appeared from behind them, wrapping her arms around David’s neck, which heated at her words. Sometimes his sister had no sense. He relinquished Leigh’s hand to grab Samantha’s, twirling her to stand opposite him and Leigh. The girl had on a too-short dress with no sleeves and a low back. When had she changed clothes?

He barely contained a growl. “Does Grandma know you own such scandalous clothing?”

Samantha gave a sarcastic curtsy, but her face quickly turned into a pout. David followed her gaze to a young man with hair splayed in every direction, dressed only in his shirtsleeves, and standing under a nearby lamppost. Sean Green, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Hey.” He sauntered over, looking Samantha up and down.

David stuffed his fists in his pockets instead of using them to end Sean’s perusal of his sister.

“Whatcha doin’?” Sean asked Samantha.

She shrugged her shoulders as she cast a flirty sideways glance at him.

David inhaled a deep breath, caught Leigh’s slight shake of her head, and clamped his mouth shut.

“Have you seen Amy?” Sean’s gaze left Samantha to scan the boardwalk.

“No …” Samantha started, but Sean sauntered away without another word.

David exchanged a look with Leigh, baffled by the young man’s strange behavior. “Sam, don’t you think—”

She glared at him. “I’m an adult, David. I can make my own choices. Stop hovering.”

“I would if you made adult choices.”

“You mean dull choices. Like you. Though tonight is out of character.”

More heat on his neck. He could only hope Leigh didn’t take that the wrong way. Sam was right. He wasn’t the type of man to play with a girl’s emotions. If that made him dull, then so be it.

Leigh nudged him with an elbow. “Samantha?” David followed their gazes again. In the shadows between two buildings, Sean was kissing Amy Littleburg—Matt’s babysitter—right there in the open. Apparently, he’d found who he’d been looking for, and David didn’t regret it wasn’t his sister.

Mouth turning down, Samantha looked between David and Leigh. “I don’t understand why he’s seeing her.”

“Why do you care?” David asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his tone. Obviously, Sean was taken, and Samantha had no right to barge into his relationship with Amy. Even if Sean had eyeballed Sam like a piece of saltwater taffy.

“Amy is so popular.” Samantha sighed. “She’s got the most perfect skin. Big eyes. Every guy wants to be with her and every girl hates her.”

Wants her? Hates her? What? David wasn’t that old, but he felt like a curmudgeon ready to wallop some sense into these kids, er adults.

“So Sean’s not acceptable?” Leigh clasped her hands together at her waist, the picture of calm.

Samantha snorted. “He’s too good for her. He’s not usually the type she goes for. So what is he doing with her?”

Oh God, help. David closed his eyes. How was he supposed to handle this? Samantha wasn’t a child any longer, and he wasn’t her father, but she needed guidance. She needed a mother. Obviously, not even their grandma had managed to assume that role, and it left Samantha floundering.

David met Leigh’s look of understanding. Then she tipped her head back toward Sean and Amy. Amy was making her way through the crowd, leaving Sean trailing after her and Samantha shifting to keep him in her sight, edging away as if she’d forgotten about David and Leigh until she waved to a group of girls and hurried over to join them.

David sighed. Nothing he could do about any of that tonight, not without causing them all too much embarrassment, which would not fix the problem. Best to hope Samantha kept her head about her until he and Grandma could get her alone to talk.

“I have that to look forward to?” A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Silas!” David’s mood lightened instantly. “Good to see you.”

He tipped his cowboy hat toward Leigh. “I’m glad to see you fared all right after your rescue.”

Leigh gave a nod. “You’re the one who got him to cough up the water.”

Silas waved her off. “My nieces are the same age, so I made sure to be prepared for anything.” He glanced over his shoulder toward where Samantha had disappeared. “Except for them growing up.”

David understood exactly. He and Silas had much in common these days. David had lost his mother, Silas, his father and brother. His brother’s death brought him home to help care for his mother, sister-in-law, and two nieces. Speaking of Silas’s nieces … the two young girls dodged through the crowd to fling their arms around Silas’s legs, brown braids flowing out behind them. David shared a smile with Leigh.

“Oh,Soon, thank goodness!” Marian Ward, Silas’s sister-in-law, appeared, hand pressed to her chest. “Girls, you don’t run off like that.”

Silas crouched. “You girls need to listen to your mother.” The girls nodded.

Marian initiated greetings with Leigh before offering an apology. “I wish we could stay to talk more, but it’s getting much too late for the girls.”

“Of course.” Silas tipped his Stenson to Leigh and clapped David on the back with a wink. “Enjoy the night.”

David pushed the embarrassment away, but not in time to speak before Silas, Marian, and the girls disappeared into the crowd. Instead, he gave a gentle nudge to Leigh’s shoulder, and she wrapped a hand around his offered arm. They stayed quiet, walking shoulder to shoulder. Soon the sounds and lights of the dock eased his angst. Comfort between him and Leigh returned, and he found himself watching her. She seemed to relax the farther from the crowds they walked. Her breathing grew even. Her eyes widened with a look of wonder. The tense ridge of her shoulders softened.

What brought this mysterious woman to Crow’s Nest? What caused the fear that seemed to creep in at unexpected times? How come she was the one who jumped into the lake to save Matt when a slew of fishermen were at the dock? He opened his mouth to speak when another voice beat him to it.

“Why, if it isn’t Mann’s sheepdog’s first mate?” Joe Spelding pushed off the wall of the Crow’s Nest Grill—which used to serve alcohol, and probably still did—and blocked their path.

David groaned. He did not want to talk with Spelding, especially with Leigh on his arm.

Adaleigh closed her eyes and grasped at the peace she’d had moments ago. She shouldn’t have let her guard down, but the lake’s magic … how could she tune it out? The sparkle of lights on the water. The quiet music drifting in from the boats and buildings. The lanterns swinging from masts and posts, and in the hands of passersby. The odd mix of prepared food, fish, and dampness. She had entered another dimension—like the Time Traveler in Wells’s The Time Machine—one where she could forget where she had come from and reinvent herself into whoever she wanted to be.

Her sister would never find her in such a small town if Adaleigh kept to herself. Ashley would probably never think to look in a place like Crow’s Nest. A Sirland daughter hoofing it in a backwoods fishing town? Not likely. Not to mention how nice it would be to enjoy the company of a family for a while.

Or so she thought … before the well-dressed man stepped from the shadows and shattered all her illusions. The gaslights from the boardwalk highlighted his suave features. He wore the same tailored suit and red tie he had earlier that day. The darkness made him appear more sinister. She didn’t trust him.

“What do you want, Spelding?” David stopped, planting himself as if in preparation for a gale-force wind, his shoulder just in front of her. Protective, without being overbearing.

“Just making small talk.” Mr. Spelding turned appraising eyes on Adaleigh, just as Sean had done to Samantha. “How’d you attract such a doll? She’s a right fine Sheba.”

Adaleigh had observed that certain personalities had the capability, like that of a sun, to pull people into their gravitational orbit, causing the typically perceptive to lose their senses, if just for a moment. Employing a charisma that charms even while it manipulates. Adaleigh’s father had that ability, especially in the boardroom. People would agree to anything he proposed, no matter how absurd, unwise, or brilliant the idea. His words cast aside apprehension.

In that moment, as Mr. Spelding’s barb flew toward David, Adaleigh recognized it—and him—for what it was. Mr. Spelding wielded an unrefined version of her father’s magnetism mixed with a base flirtation, wrapping crude behavior in a glittering robe. Adaleigh blinked, repelled, seeing through Mr. Spelding’s outward appearance to the real intentions of the man.

“Really?” David’s voice held the same disgust Adaleigh felt. “Is no one going to treat a woman like a human being today?”

Good point.

Mr. Spelding laughed. “I said I think she’s good-looking.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” David’s voice rose. “Women aren’t just playthings for a night, easily discarded the next morning.”

“Ha.” Mr. Spelding crossed his arms. “I was going to call you a homely specimen, but now you’re just pathetic. Only a blue-nose spouts such self-righteous talk. Really … how did you get her to go out with you?”

“David.” Adaleigh pulled him back. As much as she appreciated him standing up for her, this would not dissolve into a profitable argument. Not with someone like Joe Spelding.

David failed to yield, glaring at the interloper. “Just because you’re new to our town doesn’t make you better. We have a fine community here. Good people who know how to treat people right. We don’t need your—”

“David.” Adaleigh interrupted. “May I have a word?”

Spelding smirked. Adaleigh knew that look—the smugness of a man who knows his arrow not only pricked a sore spot, but that its poison had already begun to seep into its victim.

“Take a breath.” Adaleigh took one herself as she pushed David several steps farther away from Mr. Spelding. She spoke softly. “You don’t want to lose your job over the likes of him. He’s only trying to needle you, and you have to deal with him all next week, so don’t make things worse for yourself. He’s a paying customer.”

He muffled a growl. “I just hate it when people try to intimidate others because they think they’re better.”

Adaleigh’s heart cracked open.

The angry light in David’s eyes dimmed. “And then for him to insult you in the process. I’m sorry.”

“I can stand up for myself pretty well.” Adaleigh lowered him onto a bench, steeling herself against the appreciation growing for this man. “But thank you.”

He sank his chin to his chest.

She glanced over her shoulder at Mr. Spelding. “Can you wait here? I need to finish something.”

“Leigh, wait.” David tried to catch her arm, but she dodged him.

“Stay here. Please.” She gave him a smile. “I promise I’ll be right back.”

Joe Spelding might be a detestable worm, but he could also be playing her. Her sister would send someone just like him.

“Nice moves.” Mr. Spelding grinned at Adaleigh upon her return, as if he could melt her into a puddle of water. He held no power over her. She saw him for what he really was, thank God. David, on the other hand …

“Do you know a woman named Ashley?” Adaleigh demanded, watching his eyes for signs of the truth.

“I know lots of women, sweetheart.” Mr. Spelding stepped closer, lust shining clear as the moon above.

Adaleigh didn’t budge. “Do you know my name?”

Mr. Spelding rocked back on his heels. “I don’t need it to have a good time.” The man was as shallow as they came, but it didn’t appear as if he knew anything about her or her sister. She read no deception in his tone, posture, or expression, only arrogance.

“Mr. Spelding, I would suggest learning how to treat people nicely if you’re going to stay in Crow’s Nest. Valuing people matters in a little town like this.”

“Hey, now.” He caught up to her as she turned to leave. “You’re not from here either.”

“So?” Adaleigh forced her hands to remain at her sides. She could’ve bitten off her lower lip after letting that little hint escape.

“Why defend it? You’ve got more to offer than this place will ever appreciate.”

Adaleigh’s suspicion rose. “You do know me.”

He laughed. “I know your type. You come from education, power, and money. It’s obvious. No one says no to you, and you always get your way. That’s why my charms aren’t working on you.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes.

“Fine, then.” He grabbed her hand, forcing Adaleigh to face him. “How about a proper date? Dinner.”

“For heaven’s sake!” Adaleigh yanked her hand from his. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“You’re the one who came back to talk to me,” he called after her as she marched toward David.

“Good night, Mr. Spelding.”

“Don’t ever let me doubt whether you can handle yourself.” David stood now, watching the scene with arms folded, leaning his hip against the bench. “Next time, should I defend you, or would you prefer that I stay out of it?”

“Is your manliness hurt now, too?” she snapped.

“Nah, I’m impressed.” David relaxed, gave her a smile. “Come on, let’s finish our walk. There are less boats this way, so we shouldn’t run into any more trouble.”

Huh. Trouble stood before her, all neat and innocent, with brown hair and a pullover.

Sure, part of her wanted to go back to the Martins’ home, give up on an ill-fated evening, but David intrigued her more and more. He had none of the charisma of a guy like Joe or the authority of a man like her father. No bravado or grandstanding. Just the good-hearted kindness of the boy next door. She’d never met someone like that.

“There’s my boss’s fishing shanty.” David stopped, pointed. He’d spent the last few minutes keeping the atmosphere light. Leigh seemed tightly coiled after her confrontation with Joe Spelding, and David felt no calmer. But he could deal with his emotions later. For now, Leigh deserved a pleasant remainder of the evening, and he aimed to give her that much. If she up and left, he hated the idea of her remembering him with a negative perspective.

“Fishing shanty?” Leigh prompted.

“I’m first mate on the Tuna Mann, but I also manage the three boats that make up Captain Mann’s fishing fleet. So it’s our headquarters, at least. About half of the other independent fishermen use our shanty, too. Out back is a fish-cleaning area. Inside is gear for purchase. I oversee most of that.”

“Your family must be right about you having a heavy workload. Did you mean it when you said eighty hours a week?”

David nodded. “Up before the sun.”

“I like a quiet, early morning.” Leigh ran her fingers over the ropes that hung along the edge of the dock to keep people from falling in by accident. The shadows of night contrasted with her quiet words. “Those are the moments when the world holds the most hope.”

“And mercy.” He stared out at the blackness of the water. It drew him like a soft whisper. Only out there could he find the peace and healing his soul craved. Him and God. He could no more deny its pull than a piece of metal could fight a magnet.

He shook himself and returned to a safer topic. “Most of our fishing captains are all old men who know Lake Michigan better than they know the roads west of here. They usually find the fish.”

“Which makes happy bosses,” she said. “Money makes the world go ’round.”

He cocked his head. “You say that cynically.”

“I’m not convinced money is all that.” She pulled the edges of her sweater closed against the early summer breeze.

“There really isn’t much money in fishing. Boats are expensive to keep up, and weather dictates when we can go out, then if the markets are bad … Do you need my pullover?”

She shook her head, and they continued sauntering, crowds and lights left behind. They should turn back, but David was loath to end the evening, especially after they regained their comfortable footing. It might not be as magical as before, but it was good.

“Is it dangerous?” she asked.

“Fishing? At times. It’s necessary to stay smart, sober, and pay attention to the weather. Not respecting her—Lake Michigan—is the biggest danger. She can give the illusion of tranquility even while harboring deadly riptides and swells. Yet when land disappears and it’s just me sitting in a boat with nothing but water and sky for as far as the eye can see, I feel the most alive. Small and insignificant, sure, but it’s like the boat is the palm of God’s hand. The same God whose voice calmed the wind and sea.”

“Yes,” she whispered, a catch in her voice.

“That’s just me.” He bumped her arm, not sure why he shared so much. “I guess I find it hard to see God on land sometimes.”

She brushed a tear that slipped down her cheek, then spoke before he knew what to say. “Tell me more? About life here.”

“Here in Crow’s Nest, water is our blood. We live in a …” He gestured, attempting to help himself come up with the word. “You know, we live because of each other. My mother used to say it.”

“Symbiotic?”

“That sounds right. Without the water, we cannot make a living. We would have no food, no money, no community. It can feel like we are at her mercy.”

“The weather too?”

“The old captains anticipate the weather better than the weather reports half the time, but, yes, the weather, too. The raw power of the wind and waves, yet God is even more powerful.” David braced himself for the yearning that always overwhelmed him when he thought of God’s strength. So many times, God could have intervened and hadn’t. The only way he kept his faith was on the water.

“Is fishing … fun?”

Fun? “Oh yeah.” David felt himself light up like a little boy at Christmas. “I grew up going out with the old captains. They’d take me along on their boats, teach me everything from how to set a line and clean a fish to where the unspoken fishing territories. Captain Mann said I also have a good head for the business side of fishing, so maybe I’ll be a captain someday.”

“You really do love fishing, don’t you?” She looked up at him with eyes full of wonder.

“Yeah.” He hesitated a moment, but maybe she needed to hear this, too. “It’s the only way I survived losing my mom and managed when our dad left us. I meet God on the water. It’s weird, I suppose, but I couldn’t live without it.” He gave a laugh. “You must think I’m a loon.”

“Not at all. You remind me of The Call of the Wild.“ Leigh’s soft voice soothed the pain in his heart. “Only instead of the arctic life of a wolf drawing you, it’s the call of the water. I may see God’s beautiful handiwork in its waves and colors, but the water brings out something in you the rest of us don’t possess.”

Call of the Water? God’s beautiful handiwork? His pulse pounded in his throat. Only if it had brown hair and hazel eyes, with a voice as magnetic as the sea. When her cheeks reddened, David swallowed. He’d moved within inches of her, and before he did something impulsive, like cup her cheek in his hand, or, even crazier, kiss her, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped back.

He really needed to get his head on straight. They’d just met. He had no business thinking such things about her. It made him no better than a man like Spelding. God, help me protect her, even from myself. Because her presence here alone indicated she needed shelter from something or someone.

Leigh tugged on her sweater sleeves, pulling the fabric over her hands.

“What a long-winded fool I am, keeping you out so late and letting you get chilled.” David yanked off his pullover, leaving him with just his gray shirtsleeves, and draped it over her shoulders. “Let’s head back.”

“I’m okay,” she said, stopped, then opened her mouth as if to speak again when suddenly a sadness he knew all too well doused the light in her eyes and she shivered. “The magic of the evening must be muddling my head.”

“Is that good or bad?” David held his breath. He shouldn’t go there, but her response mattered to him.

Before she could answer, David caught movement beside a nearby building. Fear like he hadn’t known since his mother’s final days overcame him. He stumbled forward. Barely felt Leigh’s steadying hand.

“Shhh.” He put his arm up to keep her behind him.

Next to one of the buildings, a large, dark shape stooped over another shadowy form. David knew that middle-aged man—his rounded belly and brown unkempt hair. The front of his shirt looked wet, as if something had been poured down his chest.

The man staggered to his feet, and the light from the gas lamp behind them illuminated the lump he had been leaning over. It was a woman. Amy Littleburg. And the hilt of a knife rose from her stomach.

Air seeped out of his lungs. “Dad?”