Waterfront Weddings (41 page)

Alanna watched Jonathan pedal down the street. He looked over his shoulder once, and she waved. She didn’t need him acting like a burr attached to her side. She turned to I’m Not Sharing Fudge Shop. Maybe Mr. Hoffmeister still worked evenings. He’d always insisted that was his favorite time to man the shop since he could observe everyone pass by.

Maybe he knew something about what happened to Grady. How could she have forgotten his cottage faced the area they’d chosen for the bonfire and festivities? Between that and whatever Ginger knew, she needed to talk to him.

An electronic ding announced her arrival. The old man hunched over a paperback as he sat on a stool behind the cash register. He marked his page and then glanced up. A grin split his face, revealing stained teeth. “Alanna! I wondered when you’d stop by. Need some fudge?”

“Yes, sir. I haven’t missed much but your fudge. Someday you’ll have to share your special ingredient.”

“No can do. If I did, nobody would need me anymore. Can’t have that.” He grabbed a piece of wax paper and a knife. “Now what would you like to sample?” He pointed at a couple of blocks. “How about the mint chocolate? Or the peanut butter? But if I know you after all these years, I’m thinking the peppermint tickles your taste buds.”

“Sounds great.” As soon as he handed her a thin slice, she broke off a corner and slipped it in her mouth. The sweetness melted against her tongue, and she moaned. “This is so good. I’d better take a pound and be grateful I bike and walk everywhere.”

“I knew you’d like it.” He sliced off a bigger chunk and wrapped it in a one-pound box. “What else can I do for you?”

He sidled back to the cash register and rang up her order while she considered how to proceed.

“I wanted to ask what you remember.”

“About that day?”

“Yes, sir.”

He slipped her money into the cash drawer then sank to the stool. “That was a long time ago, kid. You have to let go.”

“You must have talked to Jonathan.”

“Jonathan?”

“Covington. He told me the same thing.”

“Haven’t talked to him, but we’re of the same mind. What good comes of stirring up that hornet’s nest?”

Alanna clutched the box as if gripping a lifeline. “Because I want the world to know Trevor wasn’t involved.”

“Everybody there was.”

That stung. She’d been there. To this day she wondered if there was something she could have—should have—done to avert the tragedy.

“Look, you can carry this burden the rest of your life, let it color every day and everything you do. Or you can release it and trust those around here to move on with grace. You might try it yourself.” He glanced at his watch and stood. “Time for me to close up.”

“What’s this about you and Mr. Tomkin?”

He frowned. “Nothing for you to worry about. He just wants to build a monstrosity next to my house. Seems shocked I think he should follow all the building rules.”

“Being neighbors can be hard on a friendship.”

“It certainly can.” He glanced at his watch. “Suppose I should start working on closing duties.”

Alanna nodded. She’d be back, but he’d made it clear he didn’t want to talk—not now. His words about grace echoed in her mind as she left.

Grace wasn’t a new concept, not after all the sermons she’d heard on the topic. But applying it to this situation? That seemed impossible. Not when she had an island’s worth of people to forgive. Forgetting and moving on came easier, until her parents needed her to return.

The door clanged shut behind her, and she turned to watch him hit a light switch. She couldn’t imagine how many times he’d closed the shop in his lifetime. Through all kinds of events on the island, he stayed. Thought she should have done the same.

It wasn’t that easy. Never had been.

Her streak of justice ran too deep to ignore, especially when it involved family. Someday she wanted a family of her own, but not if what happened to Trevor could repeat. She needed to right this. Then she could pursue a family. Maybe she was stubborn, but now that she had returned, she needed to find the truth. See if there was any way to clear her brother.

She straddled her bike and looked up then startled. Talk about stubborn. There stood Jonathan Covington leaning against the wall of Doud’s. “What are you doing? I saw you leave.”

“Making sure you make it home.” A thread of challenge rang through his words. Just like when they were teens and he insisted she let him do something—usually something completely unnecessary.

“Go home, Jonathan.”

“That’s exactly what I plan to do.” He lifted the Coke bottle he held. “Needed something to drink.”

She tucked her slab of fudge in the bike basket. “Sure you did. Come on, since I can’t shake you.”

He chuckled. “That’s right. I’m going to watch out for you.”

Her back stiffened, and she pushed down on the pedals. “I’m not a young teenager anymore. I am fully capable of taking care of myself. Especially in such a small,
safe
place.”

“I’ll sleep better knowing I didn’t leave you to find your way in the dark.”

“I think the Coke’ll keep you up.” No point mentioning the hundreds of times she’d biked these same roads and trails. She might have left eleven years ago, but that didn’t erase a childhood spent exploring every inch of this island.

Silence fell as they biked through neighborhoods and into the woods. Alanna felt her lungs burn as she fought to keep up with Jonathan. He didn’t break a sweat as she gulped oxygen. She pumped harder, refusing to let him stay ahead. Not after all the times they’d raced up and down the roads. Then he rarely bested her. She couldn’t let him start now, no matter how much her body screamed in protest.

The trees acquired shadows as the sun sank beneath them. The shadows changed the way everything looked. She hadn’t noticed the new houses and lanes on her couple of trips to the studio. Without Jonathan, she might have gotten turned around, but she wouldn’t give him that gem to use against her the next time he insisted she allow him along.

He stopped at her driveway, and she skidded to a halt next to him. “You all right from here?”

“What? Your mama didn’t tell you to walk the girl to her door? Isn’t this the equivalent of honking the horn?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me any closer.” He reached out and caressed her cheek.

“I. . .don’t.”

He leaned toward her, closing the space between them. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I don’t need you.”

“Don’t believe you. I know you better.” A strange expression flashed across his face at the words.

“You know the girl I was.”

“I see the woman hiding in the shadows.”

Her heart stilled as he stared into her eyes. Then his gaze traveled to her lips, his eyes hidden by the shadows. She clutched the handlebars but couldn’t move. Years of history zinged between them. She had to break away. He had a girl, possibly a child, though she struggled to reconcile the Jonathan she’d known with a child out-of-wedlock. She couldn’t interfere in that. She didn’t want a reason to stay on the island one day more than necessary.

She slid her bike back and forced a smile. “Good night, Jonathan.”

As she biked up the lane, it took all her willpower not to look back and see if he still watched her. She didn’t need this attraction between them. Not now.

She parked her bike and then slipped inside the front door. She couldn’t trust herself with any man, let alone Jonathan. Not after how easily she’d handed her heart to Spencer. The way he’d callously thrown it back proved she didn’t know men and couldn’t make a good decision. Not when in a couple of short days she was ready to jump back into Jonathan’s arms after an eleven-year absence.

Only a fool relinquished her heart that quickly.

J
onathan settled at his kitchen table, laptop open and loading spreadsheets while he scanned his calendar. The picnic basket sat unpacked at his feet. Alanna might fight him, but tonight had illustrated how much remained between them. Now to decide if he could retreat to friendship.

His phone rang. He looked at the display and grimaced. Jaclyn. How could he so easily think about Alanna when Jaclyn had remained constant? Would Jaclyn fight to keep up with him as he pumped his bike up the roads? She worked at the Grand Hotel for a reason. She liked things a certain way. A way he couldn’t afford.

He flicked the phone. “Hey, Jaclyn.”

“What’re you doing?” Her sweet voice had a sultry edge to it, one that usually made him clear his calendar.

“Work.”

“Now?”

“It never goes away.”

She sighed. “Don’t I know. When can we get together?”

No mention of this morning? Jonathan cleared his throat. He didn’t want to clutter his calendar. Not right now. “Let me check some things tomorrow.” Coward. That’s what he was.

“Fine. Good night.” Jaclyn hung up before he could say anything. He’d smooth things over tomorrow.

Tonight he had to get some work done or he’d have unhappy clients. And while he might look like his professional life was well established, he had bigger plans for his tiny firm. He loved how God always provided, but he’d like to implement some of his ideas for growing. Before he could hire an employee or two, he had to buckle down and find the time to make his current clients’ visions reality while finding new clients.

He nursed the half-empty Coke and berated himself. He really hadn’t had time for Alanna. Not when she acted as elusive as the Kirtland’s warbler.

From the first moment he saw her the summer before his freshman year, he’d known she was special. The girls at his high school on the mainland didn’t interest him after a summer exploring Mackinac Island with Alanna. Each summer he returned, and the bond grew. He’d thought she felt the same, but then she’d left. He could have pursued her, but why chase someone who never called or wrote?

Now she’d returned.

And he had Jaclyn. The thought made his shoulders tighten. Until yesterday, he liked the idea of more days with Jaclyn. Now he felt a churning, uprooted sensation.

Maybe it indicated he had a chance to see if he’d imagined everything and expanded on it during the intervening years. Or a chance to shatter a good woman’s heart while another woman broke his. Jaclyn was a kind woman, one he should be happy to spend his life with. But now that Alanna had arrived. . . He’d never imagined one day around Alanna after all this time would reignite what they’d had. He couldn’t begin to imagine how to explain to Jaclyn. What if she’d walked by the studio, glanced in, and seen the picnic? How could he explain that what looked intimate wasn’t? The worst part came from the realization he didn’t want to explain it away.

One fact remained uncontradicted: Jaclyn didn’t match the standard Alanna set. With her love of life and drive, Alanna had set the bar too high for anyone else to hurdle. And that wasn’t because absence made the memories sweeter.

The computer dinged. Guess he had e-mail.

Time to get back to work and get those revised ideas ready for Tomkin.

The next morning, Jonathan took a few minutes on his back patio to listen for the Kirtland’s warbler while he inhaled his coffee. No brew existed rich enough and caffeinated enough to get him through the day. He might as well set up an IV drip and drag it behind him.

The morning was pretty quiet. He couldn’t hear the warbler, let alone scan for it with the binoculars that rested at his side. Maybe this weekend he could claim the time to stalk the little, impossible-to-find bird.

If he did that, he wouldn’t have time between events to sit at home wondering what Alanna was doing next door. Though if she hadn’t found an assistant by then, she’d be down at the studio. Her family couldn’t afford missed income on what was usually the busiest day of the week.

Add in Memorial Day, and the weekend should hop with tourists taking advantage of package deals at the Grand Hotel and bed-and-breakfasts. Then he had a wedding to coordinate on Monday. Any peace he’d pulled around him evaporated at the thought. For someone who loved event planning, weddings weren’t his thing. They paid the bills, but a part of him felt like he stole from the couples when he encouraged their vision of happily ever after.

Having Alanna back on Mackinac didn’t change his position. Especially as they struggled to find footing as friends.

His mama had raised him to treasure one woman. The problem came when that woman walked away without a backward glance. Then she returned bearing scars. Oh yeah, he was ready to go plan the final details on someone’s forever commitment. Could he pretend?
Help me, Lord
.

This wedding he hadn’t prayed about first. Mistake number one.

Then the bride changed her mind every other minute, and he didn’t say anything. Mistake number two.

Not answering her call last night? Mistake number three.

He’d have to talk her off the ledge today. An emotional bridezilla.

The sound of the door opening next door filtered across the space, jarring him from his downward-spiraling thoughts. Time to act rather than think. And if he happened to catch Alanna on the trail, all the better.