The sun sat poised to rise above the pine trees dotting Jonathan’s property the next morning. A bird’s muted chatter broke the silence surrounding him. He moved around the kitchen as he started a fresh pot of coffee. He rehashed the prior day while he waited for his first cup. Edward had seemed pleased with Jonathan’s suggestions as he took copious notes at their many stops.
When the coffeepot beeped, Jonathan grabbed a mug from the rack beside the sink and filled it. He carried it to the front porch and sank onto the rocking chair his grandfather had made. He blew on the steaming coffee as his gaze searched the spindly pines. Maybe this morning he’d catch a glimpse of the elusive Kirtland’s warbler.
He’d tried hard to keep the cowbirds away but hadn’t seen any activity to suggest the warblers had returned. If Jonathan’s ears didn’t deceive him, maybe this fellow was one. The only problem was the bird could be anywhere in a quarter-mile radius. If he was right, the bird had found a good home in the jack pine habitat.
Chip-chip-che-way-o. That’s how the bird guides described the sound of the yellow-bellied warbler. To Jonathan’s ears, its song rang more melodious in the early morning silence.
Jonathan sipped the strong coffee. There wasn’t a better way to start the morning than sitting on his cabin’s porch surrounded by God’s creation, even the hidden ones. He might not see the warbler yet, but he would.
The alarm on his watch shrieked, wrecking the mornings peace. The trees rustled as birds took flight. He jabbed the buttons on the watch, and it fell silent. So much for a calm start to the day. How could he have forgotten to turn it off when he woke before the alarm? Jonathan shifted against the porch railing, the day’s demands replacing the fleeting peace. Might as well face reality. It promised to be another busy, stress-filled day. Better tackle it head- on instead of wasting another moment worrying about how to land the Standeford wedding account and keep another couple, the Wenzes, happy with their anniversary plans. All the meetings with local hotels and associations to gain new business. His mind spun with the details and ideas. Business looked ready to pick up, but he needed to clone himself if he wanted to keep up.
At times like this, he wondered if he’d ever find a way to add an employee. Maybe if he pulled everything back to his cabin. He could always meet people at local spots like Mike’s. The problem was his cabin was small. It’d be tough to find space for all his supplies. His office might not be huge, but it did provide the extra space and a bit of separation from his home. Still, working with someone as part of a cohesive team sounded great. Then he could work on the events while someone else focused on marketing to prospective clients. Then his business could really grow.
The steady clop of horses’ hooves on the packed road running in front of the cabin invaded his thoughts. People rarely traveled the out-of-the-way road, especially this early.
The taxi passed, containing one passenger, a woman whose short hair turned golden when the sun’s rays reached through the trees to touch it. Only a couple of homes dotted the road beyond his small place. Where was she headed?
He blew on the coffee again then sipped.
“Morning, Jonathan.” The soft words carried across the short distance echoing from his past.
He spewed the coffee. She knew his name? Two words. Yet with them hope and anger spiraled through him.
It couldn’t be Alanna. Not after all this time. Surely not. Would her fathers stroke pull her back to the island when he hadn’t been enough? The coffee churned in his stomach. He dumped the rest of the brew on the lilac standing by the steps. His grandmother had babied that bush, yet it seemed to do okay with his occasional coffee bath. Though it never flowered like it did under his grandmother’s care.
So he didn’t have a green thumb.
Jonathan set the mug on the railing and took a step off the porch. The taxi had disappeared down the narrow lane. Unless he wanted to follow it and risk looking the fool, he’d better stay put. His watch beeped again. He didn’t have time to hunt down an elusive woman who knew his name. Maybe it had been a lucky guess. He snorted. Yeah right.
Jonathan—one of the top three names on the tip of beautiful women’s tongues. Especially when they saw him.
Only one woman had said his name with an inflection that felt like a caress.
He jumped down the steps and hurried to the road. Looked down it. Saw the taxi stop at the path leading to the Stones’ cottage. With a glimpse of a beautiful woman hiding behind Jackie O sunglasses, it hit him he’d run into Alanna yesterday. If she’d arrived then, why hadn’t she come home last night? He hadn’t seen lights when he’d checked the house for the Stones. Maybe that was all the excuse he needed to confirm the woman in the carriage truly was Alanna.
His watch beeped its warning again.
Time to get moving. He’d drop by tonight. See if she had a good explanation for the way she disappeared, cut him out of her life.
He shook his head, trying to free himself of the immediate hold she’d reestablished. What would Jaclyn think? Jaclyn Raeder, the woman who’d worked her way into his life along with that precious little boy. Sure, he’d never felt the flashes of attraction with Jaclyn, but she was a good woman. And she’d been here. Consistently.
He couldn’t go there. Not now, and not after two mere words.
His clients didn’t care about the overpowering desire he had to abandon the day’s agenda and rush to the house, but Jaclyn would. Clients only focused on whether events ran without a hiccup, snag, or noticeable problem. As long as he was the one losing sleep and weight over the details, they’d sign the checks.
The slow clop-clop of the taxi echoed in the quiet. Jonathan smiled when he saw the empty passenger seats. She was back. Now he had to run or he’d miss his first appointment.
Alanna leaned against the door. What had she been thinking? Hello, Jonathan? It was bad enough they’d live next door to each other. She’d prayed he’d moved, but the moment she bumped into him yesterday, she knew he still lived in the small cabin. So she’d been a coward and spent the night in an anonymous bed-and-breakfast. Finding an open room had surprised her—even this early in the season—but it gave her the retreat she’d needed as she formed a plan.
From the moment Mom called with her plea, Alanna’s prayers had included the request for Jonathan Covington to be far removed from Mackinac. That he would be anywhere but here. Why couldn’t God have answered that prayer? It would have simplified her emotionally complicated return. Enough strands existed on the island to capture her in the spiderweb of the past. She didn’t need her heart involved, too.
Not after she’d worked so hard to pretend she never cared for Jonathan. That their relationship had never proceeded past a weak adolescent shadow of love. But as she hid in the B and B, she had to admit she’d fooled herself. It wasn’t the pressure of law school and starting a career that kept her from relationships. She couldn’t even blame the uninteresting men she ran into. Maybe they’d been uninteresting because they weren’t Jonathan.
In the early light of morning, she decided to attack the mess of emotions head-on. After finding a taxi, she headed to the cottage. Home. It hadn’t been that for years. Alanna stood on the porch, bag next to her, key in hand. One jab and twist and she’d fall inside. She hesitated, listening for the sound of heavy footsteps across the lawn. A bird jabbered angrily somewhere near her, but she didn’t hear the sound she anticipated and feared.
Alanna took a steadying breath and twisted the key, opened the door, and pulled her bag into the small sitting area. Dropping the suitcase’s handle, she marched to the kitchen and stood at the window. A dock angled from the backyard into the small pond the house shared with Jonathan’s cabin. Heat curled through her at the thought of the nights she and Jonathan had sat at the end, toes dangling inches above the water, shoulders touching.
Before she got lost in more what-ifs and unfulfilled hopes, she spun on her heel and headed to her small bedroom. As soon as she stepped inside, she groaned. Nothing was as she remembered from high school. Every scrap of pink had transformed into the perfect guest bedroom rather than a teenage girl’s dream escape.
If she hurried, she could shower, change, and hike to town before the studio opened. Tonight she could wallow in the past. Now she had to survive the present.
By noon she couldn’t wait to leave the art studio and join the tourists staring in the fudge shop windows. The four walls had closed in as she answered questions about the island, none leading to sales.
People wanted free tourist advice. Didn’t they understand that if she didn’t sell art, she couldn’t keep the studio open to answer their questions? Maybe she needed to talk to Mom about lower-priced items that were accessible to more checkbooks.
She merged with the melee on Huron. Today several tour groups stood out in the crowds with their matching ball caps or guides wielding umbrellas. She stepped against Doud’s Market’s tan wall to let a group of smiling senior citizens pass. Their guide steered them to Fort Mackinac. One lady teetered on spiky heels that weren’t designed to navigate the steep hill and stairs leading to the fort. Maybe Ste. Anne’s Church would be a better destination for her.
The last tour member smiled as she passed. Alanna nodded at her then continued to the Yankee Rebel. The mix of cleanly painted wood buildings smashed against brick storefronts gave the street a touristy, village feel, her favorite part of the island.
She entered the restaurant and waited for the hostess to acknowledge her.
“Alanna Stone. Over here.”
Alanna longed to disappear as the boisterous voice bellowed. A man her daddy’s age waved at her from the back corner.
“Come join me.”
She glanced around and didn’t notice anyone she recognized, though after eleven years she wasn’t sure she’d recognize many. In fact, the idea he knew who she was after all this time seemed incongruous. Still, the tables had started to fill. Maybe she should join him.
The man stood and headed her way. He took her arm and escorted her to the table. “This way. It’s time you returned, young lady. Sorry it took your daddy’s stroke to get you here. This may be a good that comes from it. Time to return, face the past, and clear the air, so to speak.”
Alanna watched him out of the corner of her eye as they crossed the room.
“Here, let me help you.” He pulled out a chair next to his, waited for her to sit, then scooted her to the table. “Remember me?”
“No.”
“Not surprised. I’ve lost a lot of weight. Had the gastric bypass. Worked like a charm.” He patted his waist then brushed a lock of salt-and-pepper hair out of his eyes. “Gerald Tomkin.”
“Mr. Tomkin?” The principal? No wonder she’d blocked him. The man always acted as if the whole world wanted to hear every word he said, no matter how inconsequential or irrelevant. But swiping the hair out of his face was classic Mr. Tomkin. She’d graduated with his son Brendan, who had seemed destined to follow in his father’s pompous footsteps. After the graduation party accident, he’d been even more unbearable, like he had taken Grady’s death personally.
“Your mom kept me up-to-date on your progress. Impressive, young lady. But I knew you had it in you to change the world.”
Alanna studied her hands, unused to praise from him. “Are you still at the school?”
“No. Retired last year and now working with the island’s foundation. You should get involved. Right up your alley as an attorney. In fact, I have a project to discuss with you. One important to the foundation’s future.”
“I don’t think I’ll be here long enough for a project.”
A waitress stopped by the table.
“We’ll talk more after we order. I’d get the pot roast sandwich. You won’t be disappointed.” He rubbed his stomach.
Still bossy as ever, but it did sound good. “All right.”
The waitress collected their drink orders, and Alanna glanced around. The door opened, and sunlight streamed through the opening.
“Doris, where are you hiding?”
Jonathan Covington—here? Alanna slouched in her chair. She picked up a menu and pretended to study it intently, holding it in front of her face. Footsteps clomped across the wooden floor in her direction. She kept her head buried, refusing to look up.
“Gerald Tomkin. Just the man I wanted to see.”
Alanna stifled a sigh and glanced up. She forced a smile on her face, one that froze when she noticed the funny way he looked at her. He clutched the chair across from Gerald. “Still rent your flower garden for photos?”
“Another wedding?” Gerald gestured at the table. “Why don’t you join us?”
“Of course.” Jonathan took a seat then frowned.
“Flower garden?” Alanna jolted as she felt something on her shoulder. Mr. Tomkin had placed his hand there. She started to scoot her chair away, but that would put her closer to Jonathan.
“I rent it out occasionally for the right event.” Mr. Tomkin grinned. “When it’s in full bloom, it’s a spectacular backdrop.” He looked at Jonathan. “When would you need it?”
“I’m not sure yet. But would like to add it to a wedding proposal.” Jonathan shifted his attention and quirked his head as if trying to decide if it was really her. “Alanna Stone?”
“Hi, Jonathan.”
“What brings you back to the island? Your father’s stroke?” His eyes searched her face, wariness keeping a safe distance between them.
“Yes.” She tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t.
“Is he improving?” Genuine concern lined his voice.
She found his gaze, saw the concern mirrored there. “Not much change. That’s why Mom asked me to come.”
“Aren’t you a high-powered attorney? Can’t imagine you staying here long.” Jonathan played with the napkin-wrapped silverware at his place.
“I can’t. Just long enough to find someone to run the store.
Shouldn’t be too hard.” She hoped. Then she’d run to the ferry as fast as she could.
Mr. Tomkin nodded then turned to Jonathan. “So tell me about this wedding.”
Alanna tuned the two out as they talked details and locations.
“Then you can help me talk Miss Stone into helping with the foundation. As an attorney, she’s exactly what we need to wade through the tangled mess of finances.”
Jonathan shrugged, a shuttered look clouding his face. He served on the board? Another reason for her to avoid it if they pressed her to serve. She couldn’t get involved, not when a legal dispute here could delay her return to Grand Rapids.
The waitress returned and set waters in front of them, somehow knowing to add a third for Jonathan. “What can I get you today?”
They rattled off orders, and the waitress disappeared in the back.
Alanna took a sip of water, watching Jonathan from underneath her eyelashes. His jaw tightened, and then he took a deep breath and seemed to make a decision.
“Maybe we can catch up tonight.”
“Maybe.”
Gerald guffawed. “I see you two still have something between you. Good thing Jaclyn’s not here.” He leaned toward Alanna, like he could get any closer. “That mama wouldn’t be happy. And her little boy is latched on to Jonathan. You’re a regular daddy figure.”
“Gerald.” Jonathan’s frown should have stopped Gerald.
“Let me warn you. . . . Nature Boy here spends his extra time scouring the trails for the Audubon Society. Don’t see the relaxation in that, but to each his own.”
Jonathan shrugged, an easy gesture that didn’t dislodge the distance in his eyes nor the tightness around his mouth. “Not all of us thrive on conflict.”
“Touché.” Gerald laughed, but hardness settled in his eyes.
“Maybe I’m tiring of it. The mess with Hoffmeister is enough to wear anyone down. You know what that’s like. Lots of conflict.” He glanced up, and then a sharp grin twisted his face. “Lookie there. Isn’t that Jaclyn, Jonathan?”
Jonathan glanced toward the door and nodded as the red-haired pixie made her way toward their table. “Sure is.”
Maybe Alanna should be glad Jonathan didn’t bound from his chair to welcome her. Instead, it felt like a load of rocks from the shoreline dropped in Alanna’s stomach. The thought of eating anything left her nauseous.
Jonathan leaned toward her. “You okay?”
His sensitivity only made matters worse. Now tears and regret puddled with the debris from the past. “I’m sorry. I don’t feel well. If you’ll excuse me.”
She bolted from her chair and fled before either man could say anything and before Jaclyn arrived at the table. Alanna didn’t turn back, didn’t glance in the window, didn’t stop as she felt the past waiting to pounce.