Three

The next day when Brent got off the ferry, he scanned the shops up one side of the street and down the other. He’d only stepped into a fraction of them yesterday before he thought he’d go crazy. He could not see how women shopped for fun. Just the thought was nauseating.

If that boy he’d seen yesterday by the carriage was Justin, then maybe if he hung out with that carriage driver for a while, he’d get a better glimpse of him and know one way or the other. And what were the chances that an eighteen-year-old boy would be working in one of the shops? That wouldn’t have been his choice fourteen years ago.

Shops or another carriage ride? A compromise was in order. He could loop through the few stores between here and the ticket booth, then hop another carriage ride. If he only scoped out a handful of tourist traps at a time, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. After five places, he stared at how many still stood between him and the carriage-tour ticket booth. As he surveyed the next yawning edifice waiting to swallow him, he rubbed his mouth with his hand, his whiskers scratching his palm, then jogged across the street, dodging two cyclists.

As he approached the tour company, he noticed Haley sitting aboard the next departing carriage. She wore blue jeans and a white T-shirt with her hair pulled back in that claw thing, same as yesterday. He hustled to the ticket window and glanced back at Haley’s carriage. “Are there still seats available on that carriage?”

“Yes, sir.”

Thank You, Lord. “I’ll take one.” He snagged his ticket and went for the carriage. Would she remember him?

As he handed his ticket to Haley, her eyes widened slightly. “Welcome back.”

She did recognize him. That was a positive sign. “Thank you.” He gave her a slight nod and caught a glimpse of her silver necklace, a cross made out of nails. He had a larger version of it on a black leather cord that he’d bought after he’d rededicated his life to the Lord eleven years ago when he was twenty-one. A person wouldn’t wear that style of cross unless he personally knew the Man who bore those nails for him. So chances were excellent that this lovely young tour guide was a Christian. That thought stretched his mouth into a smile. Where was his cross? In his shaving bag? He’d have to look for it.

The first seat was full, so he boarded in the second row. As the tour went from town up to Surrey Hills, he took a few pictures and let Haley’s voice wash over him.

“Gid-up, Winston.” Haley tapped the hind end of a caramel-colored horse with the buggy whip.

So today it was Winston slacking off. Was there always one horse in a pair that tried to get away with it? What would happen if both horses decided to let the other do the pulling? Not much.

As the first row of tourists disembarked at Surrey Hills, he stepped over the seat to the front, leaning forward, and caught Haley’s scent of fresh hay and sunshine. Not that sunshine actually had a smell, but it was clean and warm. She had a piece of hay in her hair. Would she think it weird if he plucked it out? He sat and rested his forearms on his thighs. “I’m not interested in taking the other carriage around. May I just stay on?”

She turned to him with a smile. “People usually get off and look around. Then a line forms over there.”

He jumped down and headed for the invisible line.

Haley guided her team forward, and as the carriage halted, he spread his arms. “No one here but me. Who would have thought that on the first tour of the day everyone would want to see the museum and the other loop of the tour?”

“I rarely have passengers on the first return run.”

He stood straight and gave her a salute. “Permission to come aboard, ma’am?”

“I was going to tell you that you could stay on, but you jumped down too quickly.” She waved him on. “So why no sightseeing today?”

He settled in. “I’m seeing plenty from your carriage. It’s helping me decide where else to go.”

“A tour guidebook would be cheaper.”

“But not nearly as interesting.” He draped his arms on the back of the seat. “And it can’t answer questions.”

She put both reins in her left hand and turned in her seat. “What kind of questions?”

“Like how many people work on the island in the summer?”

“I don’t know.” She rested her free hand on her thigh. “People from all over the world work here. So, hundreds, probably thousands.”

“That many?”

“Between the shops, attractions, hotel staff, drivers, maintenance crews, stable hands, dockworkers, marina employees”—she sucked in a deep breath—“the actors at the fort. . .it goes on and on.”

He was definitely looking for a needle. “Where do all those workers live?”

“Some in dormitories; a lot live above the many shops. Some local residents rent out rooms in their houses.”

The horses stepped forward, and she turned to the front, pulling on the reins. “Whoa, boys.” She turned back to him. “They think it’s time to leave.”

He nodded. “So who feeds all those people?”

“The tour company has a dining hall. Other large island employers feed their own. And for a fee, some of the dining halls will let you buy a meal ticket.”

“So do you know a lot of the people who work on the island?”

She readjusted the reins in her hands. “I guess I know quite a few. Why all the interest? Are you planning to apply for a job next summer?”

It couldn’t be any worse than any of the other things he’d tried. And certainly no worse than his current job. “No, I was just curious. What do you all do in your off time?”

“I sleep or read. But some have favorite hangouts.”

“Yesterday someone asked about churches. Are the workers able to go to church?” That might narrow down this haystack.

“A couple of the churches on the island offer a six a.m. service for those of us who have to work on Sundays. I also help lead a Bible study on Tuesday nights.”

Justin’s aunt, whom he lived with, said Justin was a strong Christian, so he would probably go to early church and a Bible study. Though he wasn’t supposed to ask, he didn’t see how it could hurt if he veiled it. “I met a woman who said her nephew was working on Mackinac Island. Maybe you know him. Justin Mikkelson?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know any Justins here.”

He watched her body language: no dilating pupils, no fidgeting, no reddening of the ears, none of the telltale signs of lying. “Maybe he goes by his initials or a middle name. Any Mikkelsons? I’d really like to tell him hello from his aunt.”

“Sorry. I know a Jason Mitchel. But no Mikkelson.”

Was that a dead end or simply a detour? Maybe he could come at it from a different angle. “So why do people come from all over the world to work on this island?”

“Lots of reasons.”

That was too general of an answer to be any help. But it was an interesting question, and though it had nothing to do with finding Justin, he was curious to know Haley’s reason. “Why did you come to Mackinac Island to work?”

“I ran away from home.”

Just like that. No compunction, no hesitation, no explanation. Did she run away from a husband-and-child family or parents? “Aren’t you a little old to be a runaway?” This island seemed to be a refuge for people who wanted to hide.

“With a family like mine, it was long overdue.”

“Bossy and overbearing?”

She hesitated. “I think I’ve said enough about me.”

“Come on. You can’t make a comment like that and not tell me more. I would really like to know what kind of family would cause you to run away.”

She squinted and moved her mouth back and forth, contemplating him.

“Please.”

Her expression opened up again, and her shoulders relaxed. “Users. Everyone needed something from Haley. Dad, to get back in Grandpa’s good graces. Grandpa doesn’t like anyone in the family except me for some reason. But since running away, I’m probably on his this-no-good-family list, too. Mom, to keep the house running smoothly so she could look good volunteering at every charitable event that came her way. I’ve bailed my sister out of jail three times with the promise not to tell Dad and Mom. And. . .”

He waited a moment. “And what? Or should I say who?”

The tops of her ears reddened. “And the dog would hide under my bed when he was in trouble for chewing Dad’s shoes beyond recognition.”

He sensed a change in subject. “Was that the straw?”

“Straw?”

“The last straw—the reason you left home?”

She gave him a look that told him she didn’t want to admit any more to a stranger. “It all adds up. I got tired of being surrounded by irresponsible people.”

“And one day, you packed your bags and left for no apparent reason.”

She looked toward a shop employee who strode toward her carriage. When she made eye contact with him, he said, “No takers. You can head out.”

She waved an acknowledgment, then turned back to Brent. “Last chance to get off.”

He leaned back and stretched out his legs. He might as well enjoy his solo trip with Haley. For some reason, he still had a feeling Haley knew Justin Mikkelson, but he was equally convinced she didn’t know it. Was Justin using an alias? Jason Mitchel perhaps? Both did have the same initials. That seemed a little too obvious.

Haley turned in her seat. “Since you’ve taken the tour before, do you just want to be driven into town or do you want the spiel?”

He pushed thoughts of Justin from his mind. “What I’d really like is to know more about you.”

“I think I’ve told you enough about me.”

“What time do you get off?”

“If you’re asking me out, the answer is no. I don’t date fudgies.”

Perceptive. And she wasn’t into playing games. No feigned surprise that he was trying to ask her out. Straight and up front. He liked that. Unless she was playing hard to get. He shook that thought away. She didn’t seem the type. “What would a fudgie be?”

She pulled her mouth back in a grimace. “Sorry. I meant to say tourist.”

“So people who work here call tourists ‘fudgies’? Why is that?”

She lifted her shoulder. “Tourists buy thousands of pounds of fudge each summer, hence the affectionate nickname.”

“But what if I haven’t bought any fudge?”

“Guilt by association.”

He snapped his fingers. “What if I quickly got a job here—then would you go out with me?”

She chuckled.

“I know the problem. You don’t know enough about me. I’m devoted to the Lord and look forward to seeing Him in heaven one day. I became an emancipated minor at sixteen after my dad died. I have a great truck with an awesome sound system. And I play electric guitar. I’ve been in the Peace Corps and gone on twelve mission trips with church groups. I’m an all-around great guy, but don’t ask me to cook.” He skipped the part about working at various jobs and not having a permanent home.

“I’m afraid I’m still going to have to say no.”

“How do you do that?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do what?”

“Turn a guy down but still make it sound like a gift.”

“You are something else.” She shook her head. “Do you always lay it on this thick?”

“It’s all your fault. I look at you, and it just comes out.”

Haley laughed. She had a pleasant, soothing laugh. And he was glad he’d said something to evoke it from her. It was worth the rejection.

She pulled back on the reins. “End of the line, bud.”

He looked around surprised they were already back in town. “You have to eat sometime. Lunch?” He didn’t know why he was even asking. To get her to smile again?

She did smile and shook her head. “Go see the island.”

“Thanks for the ride.” He jumped down and held up his camera. “May I take your picture? To remember my trip by.” She nodded and smiled down at him. He clicked the shutter, then gave her a salute and headed for the closest open door. He looped through the shop—no Justin—then stood at the window. Haley was greeting her next group of passengers. Why was he drawn to her?

Lord? Are You trying to tell me something about her? Does she really know Justin but doesn’t realize it? Should I stay close to her? Or is she just an attractive woman who has hit a sweet spot with me?

The longer he was around her, the longer he wanted to be around her. She pulled away for her next tour. He took a deep breath. Back to work.