She skidded to a stop at the side of the road. Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t get her lungs to expand. She couldn’t breathe, and the realization terrified her.
She had to leave this place. But her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She stood paralyzed, straddling the bike with the view of waves crashing against rocks along a rugged beach confronting her.
A woman slowed down, concern on her face. Not Ginger Hoffmeister. Not now. Yet there was no doubt the short, slightly rounded figure belonged to her high school friend.
In an instant, she transported back to that day in May.
The sun burned hot on her face as she joined the other high school students. Seniors for one more week. The words tasted as sweet as cherry preserves on her tongue.
In a couple of months, shed head to University of Michigan, but before that a glorious summer of freedom stretched in front of her. She could spend every evening at the dock with Jonathan Covington. By Memorial Day weekend, he’d be back at his grandparents’ for the first of many stays over the summer. She couldn’t wait to see him.
But tonight her classmates celebrated. It had never felt so good to dance in the sunlight.
“Alanna?” Jonathan touched her shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”
“Ready?” She choked on the word. Who could be ready to revisit
the place that changed their lives?
“Alanna Stone?” Ginger approached, her auburn hair inches shorter than the long ponytail she’d worn in high school. Her nose still perked up at the end, but her emerald-colored eyes held concern. “You’re back?”
Alanna sucked in air, trying to force it into her lungs. Black pricked the edges of her vision. She needed oxygen. Now.
“Lean over.” Jonathan pressed against her back until her forehead practically kissed the handlebars. “That better?”
Alanna wanted to scream, “No!” Not while Ginger Hoffmeister stared as she panicked.
“What happened?” Ginger’s soft voice conveyed concern, concern she couldn’t possibly feel or she would have contacted Alanna after her freshman year of college. Three years on the same campus, and Ginger had ended their friendship with her distance.
“Nothing.” She pressed the word past the knot tightening in her throat. Pushing back, she dislodged Jonathan’s hand and straightened.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Ginger studied her. “I heard you were back. Sorry I haven’t stopped by the studio.”
“I didn’t expect you.” Bitterness laced her words even as she gritted her teeth together.
Ginger seemed to absorb Alanna’s indifference and shrunk back. “It’s good to see you.” Ginger pushed off, leaving them behind.
Jonathan studied Alanna. “What was that all about? I thought you were friends.”
“We were.” This was too much. The scene of Grady’s accident and now Ginger. They’d been inseparable growing up. She missed the history they’d shared.
“Ready to get going? We can be at the Grand Hotel in minutes and by the library before you even notice you’ve started riding again.”
He was right. Before the morass of pain and images sucked her under, she jerked from his touch and pushed the pedals. She hadn’t noticed the bicyclers out for a ride in the early morning air, but she’d created a scene. One rider glanced away after making eye contact.
“I have to get away from here.” She stepped forward, thrusting the bike into traffic between two cyclists and hurrying into the fray.
This wasn’t a day to watch the last rays of the sun rising. No, today was a day to bury her head at the Painted Stone and pray for a quick escape. Nothing good happened to her here.
She never looked back on the ride around the perimeter of the island, yet she sensed Jonathan behind her. She didn’t need him shadowing her every move. Discovering every secret she kept hidden. No, she needed to push him away. Keep a safe distance. And get off this island as fast as she could. Tomorrow if possible. The weekend, definitely.
Jonathan slowed down. He should head home and take a shower before slipping into the office. Good thing his first meeting wasn’t until ten. He watched Alanna power around a couple out for an early morning ride.
Why did she run from the past? From him? The real Alanna was far different from the one he’d carried in his memories. Her return highlighted that. Much as he didn’t like it, maybe he needed to see. How else would he move on?
Thirty loomed around the corner. He didn’t want to live alone the rest of his life. He’d always imagined a passel of kids wrestling with him every night after work. Waiting for a mirage wouldn’t make that dream a reality. He loved every moment with Jaclyn’s little boy, Dylan, but he wanted kids of his own, too.
Until she confronted whatever demons chased her, Alanna wouldn’t return to the strong, feisty woman he remembered. She had feisty in spades, but strength eluded her. Instead, she seemed worn down. Weary. Yet drawn to the past like a moth to the bug zapper on his porch.
His legs burned as he pumped home. A quick shower later and he again had dripping hair as he stood in his kitchen. His stomach growled. A protein bar wasn’t going to fill him after that ride, but he didn’t have time to make breakfast. He grabbed a browning banana and peeled it as he exited the small cabin. The cabin hadn’t seemed too small before, but with dreams of Alanna floating in his head, he knew she couldn’t be satisfied with a place like his. No room to make it her own.
He shoved the last bite in his mouth and headed down the hill, eventually taking Fort to Market. He avoided looking in the Painted Stone’s window as he rolled past. The last thing he needed was another dose of Alanna’s poison.
The moment he stepped in the office, the phone rang. He sucked in a deep, steadying breath then picked up the implement. “Mackinac Island Events.”
“Jonathan Covington, just the man I wanted to talk to.” The gruff voice rang with strength.
“Good morning, Mr. Morris.”
“Edward, son. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“A few more to overcome my mother’s training.”
The man’s rich laugh tickled Jonathan’s ear. “This is why I like you. Polite with a deadly sense of humor.” A moment of silence descended, and then Edward cleared his throat. “Bonnie loves all your ideas, like I said the other day, but it’s not enough. Any thoughts on how we can make it bigger? She’s the love of my life for as long as the good Lord lets me keep her. I want to celebrate her in a big way.”
“Well. . .” Jonathan’s mind spun, thoughts engaged by the challenge of creating something client worthy on the fly. “She’s a special lady.”
“That she is.”
“What does she like to do?”
“Mentor young moms. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I come home even now to find her stretched out on the couch and a young mom and her baby sitting next to her. She’s always giving.” Edward cleared his throat.
“Do you want to add something to the events or find something she can take home?”
“It needs to be something that’s a visual reminder of our love. I’m not the best at saying the words. Too much like my dad in that respect. But I don’t want her to ever doubt me.”
“Didn’t you say she liked art? Maybe a painting from the island?” Edward had broached the idea earlier. Jonathan hoped he still liked it.
“Maybe.” Jonathan could imagine the man stroking his chin. “But it needs to be extremely special. She’s always loved art though. Before she got sick, she served on the local art council. I know she misses it.”
“You liked what you saw at the Painted Stone. How about I talk to a local artist about a commission? I can send photos of her art—they’re vibrant pieces, and I bet she could paint something that reflects a love like yours.” Did the silence mean Edward didn’t like the idea? Jonathan scrambled to come up with anything else. “Or we could. . .”
“I like it. E-mail me examples. Bonnie loves color. The more the better.”
Jonathan exhaled. Glad to do it. I’ll stop by this afternoon. Hope there’s enough time to make this work if you like her style.”
“What’s the artist’s name?”
“Rachelle Stone.”
“I’ll Google her. See what I can find. Keep thinking in case this doesn’t work out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Edward’s rich laugh was back. “It’s Edward. Talk to you soon.
Jonathan stared at the phone a minute before replacing it on the cradle. Now he’d done it. He would have to see Alanna. But he’d give it some time. He had a pile of work to tackle on the Lyster wedding first. Beginning with calling the bride. He pulled out the Lyster binder and looked up Theresa’s number. He dialed and said a prayer for patience. The woman rode the emotional waves of wedding planning like an awkward first-time surfer.
The phone rang to the point he expected voice mail. At the last moment, he heard it click.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Lyster?”
“Yes?”
“This is Jonathan Covington.”
“Well, it’s about time. I’m driving to Mackinac right now.”
Jonathan glanced at his desk calendar. Yep, there it was in bright red letters: Theresa Lyster arrives. “It will be great to have you back here.”
“I don’t know how we’ll get everything done in time. The wedding is in four days, and there’s so much to do.”
“That’s where I come in. Remember you hired me to make this a special event without burdening you.”
“It’s a nice theory, but it’s still my wedding. My parents have invited all their hoity-toity friends, and it doesn’t feel like my day anymore.” She inhaled so deeply it sounded like she wanted to suck all the air out of her car and might stand on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Is anyone coming with you?”
“Rebecca Simpson, my maid of honor.”
Perfect. Someone to help anchor the bride while he did the work. “How about I set up a spa session at the Grand Hotel this afternoon for the two of you? I’ll make it right after tea so you can enjoy a relaxing afternoon. I’m checking in with the florist and caterer. Touched base with the party supply company yesterday, and they’re set. Everything is coming together great.”
“What will an afternoon like that cost?”
Jonathan stifled a chuckle at the thought. One didn’t get married on Mackinac Island without a certain disregard for costs. It wasn’t an easy place to reach, and everything had a price.
“Wait. Add it to Daddy’s tab. After all, he’s why I’m stressed.” He heard giggling in the background. Must be the maid of honor. “Come by when you get on the island, and I’ll take care of the details. You relax. Tomorrow we’ll cover what’s left.”
“All right, Jon. You’re a lifesaver. Maybe I’ll survive after all.”
As soon as Theresa hung up, Jonathan dialed Jaclyn. Instead of looking forward to the excuse to talk, he dreaded hearing her voice. If he’d needed any proof he had let things get out of control with Alanna, he had it. Jaclyn had started as his contact at the Grand Hotel’s spa but had grown to be a good friend. More than a friend when he was honest. Then there was Dylan, her two-year-old.
“Grand Hotel Spa.” Jaclyn’s voice held the professional tone of a busy manager.
“Hey, Jaclyn.”
“Jonathan.” Warmth crept into the word. Guess she’d forgiven him. “What’s up?”
He chitchatted a few moments then got back to business. “I need a couple massages for a bride and her maid of honor. I’d like them to start with tea and then come to you. Assign your best masseuse.”
“Sure, Jonathan. When do you need these?”
“Today.”
“Today?” She groaned. He heard the rustle of pages in the background. “I’m not sure I can do that. Not even for you.”
“This bride needs the special treatment, and I need the time to finish the work on her wedding.” He pictured her chewing on the end of her pen as she studied the calendar. How many times had he seen her do that?
The page flipped a few more times. “All right. If you send them up here for the final tea slot, I can squeeze them in with Analise and Nicole. But you’ll have to tip well since they’ll stay late.”
“No problem. It’s going on ‘Daddy’s’ account, and he can afford it.”
“You owe me dinner, too.”
It wouldn’t be the first time by a stretch. They always had a good time, but with Alanna back. . . Jonathan considered saying no. “You’re right. I’ve got the wedding Monday. . . .”
“Jonathan, we miss you. I’d almost believe you have someone else.”
Her words pierced him. “I’ll call later.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to you then.” Jaclyn hung up, and he hoped she didn’t take an eraser to the appointments.
One crisis averted. Now to plan the Standeford wedding proposal and then snap photos of Rachelle Stone’s art. Which meant seeing Alanna. Again.