Waterfront Weddings (46 page)

She’d forgotten how crazy the island became on long weekends like Memorial Day. Guess people started the weekend on Thursday. The hum and pulse of activity used to excite her. Now. . .she didn’t know what she thought. A little quiet sounded good.

She glanced up and spied Jonathan on the sidewalk a hundred feet or so in front of her, standing very close to a cute twentysomething. Jaclyn?

Electricity fairly crackled in the space between them. As she watched, Alanna remembered the times Jonathan had eyes only for her. She’d left so much behind all because of that tragic graduation party. Why had everyone been so quick to blame Trevor—and by extension her—when most of the island’s teens had turned out for the celebrationturned-tragedy?

Her phone vibrated against her hip, but she couldn’t pull her gaze from the two. Not as she saw what had been her future play out in front of her.

She turned on her heel and stepped away. Any appetite she’d had disappeared in the vision before her. Who was she kidding? She’d dated other men, one even seriously, since leaving. Jonathan had to do the same.

She’d read too many fairy tales. Too many stories of Prince Charming waiting for the perfect woman. Even hunting for her. Jonathan had certainly never bothered to do that.

One call, that’s all she needed then. She brushed moisture from her cheek as she rushed up the sidewalk toward the white clapboard library and narrow beach behind it. The sun had lowered in the sky, and she told herself she’d watch it set behind the lighthouse.

She stumbled when she hit the rough pebbles of the beach, nothing like the sand beaches near the oceans or even at the Dunes in Indiana. She slowed her pace, extending her arms as if walking a tightrope. That’s what her life had become. Drained from the trial and media assault, she’d driven to the island, braced against the thought of what waited. Now she could add the pain of Jonathan’s nearness to her concerns about the paintings.

What had happened to the simple time in the studio her mother had promised? In and out in a few weeks, a couple of months at most, with no problems. Instead, everywhere she turned she encountered a challenge. She thought she’d prepared for the season, but now she wanted to run as fast as she could, abandoning the island and all it held.

A cool breeze blew off Lake Huron, sending a shiver down her arms and back. She hugged her middle and hunkered down on the beach. Small whitecaps teased the shoreline a few feet away. The last few years had felt quiet, almost docile outside of courtroom tussles. Now she wondered if it only felt that way because she stuffed all her real emotions so far beneath the surface she hadn’t recognized them.

Anger over her brother’s treatment? Ignored.

Fear over returning to Mackinac? Shoved to the side.

Questions about how her family could remain? Oblivious.

For someone who was known for her strength, she’d lived a deluded life. Sheltered in her Grand Rapids condo, working for a hard-driving firm, she could pretend she had everything she needed. After all, she had a handful of girlfriends and the occasional relationship.

Now it all seemed as shallow as the water lapping the shore. She didn’t have a single person she could call to share her concerns. Even her roommate would wonder at the sudden attempt at intimacy. Conversations moving from “It’s your turn to clean the kitchen” to “I think my mother is committing art fraud” didn’t happen every day.

She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She glanced at the sky. Watched as God painted stripes of vibrant color across the clouds. A rich salmon chased magenta, turquoise, and violet. She needed to get up, start moving. If she didn’t, she’d have to find her way home in the dark. She could do it, but with the way her thoughts wandered, it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Her gaze traveled the length of the vista. Sometimes it was hard to believe the God who created such beauty on a cosmic scale cared about the details of her life, but she prayed He did.

If He didn’t, she was lost.

Memorial Day weekend started with ferry loads of tourists. The population on the island exploded with those who needed a dose of relaxation. Alanna spent Friday ringing up orders and answering questions. By the time she biked home, she could hardly move. Her body was used to sitting all day, not the up and down of running a retail shop followed by an uphill bike ride.

All she wanted was to sit down on the dock with a good book until the light got too dim to read. She turned the bike into her drive then slipped off it to park it in the shed. The key dangled in her hand, useless as the shed’s door slid open with ease.

Hadn’t she locked it that morning? She must have, since it was part of her routine. She might have left the big city behind, but she hadn’t abandoned her habits. Even from this remote location, it begged trouble to leave the door unlocked.

She stared into the shadow-encrusted interior. Should she go ahead and push the bike in or run for help?

Don’t overreact
. She’d feel ridiculous if she ran next door only to find nothing wrong. But if she didn’t and something was wrong in that dark space. . .

She shook off the thought. “This is ridiculous.”

Her words filled the silence but didn’t settle the creepy crawlies on her back. A whine that sounded like a cat’s screech came from inside.

Alanna dropped the bike and backed away from the shed. She spun on her heel and hurried toward the house. The broken pansies lining the paving stones that connected the house and shed almost stopped her. What had happened? Someone or something had trampled the flowers and unlocked the shed.

After fumbling to unlock the back door, she rushed into the kitchen and called Jonathan.

“Alanna?”

“Do you have a flashlight?”

“Flashlight?”

“Yes.” She nodded then felt like a fool. “Something’s wrong in my shed.” He yawned, and Alanna wished she hadn’t called. “Never mind.”

“I’m coming. Give me a few minutes.”

Alanna hung up and filled the teakettle. It had started to hum a shrill tune when Jonathan walked in the kitchen. He wore khaki shorts that had more holes than fabric and an oversized Michigan State sweatshirt. His hair looked rumpled and his face tired.

“Did I wake you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I thought I’d get ahead of the weekend. Won’t sleep much between now and the wedding.” He hurried to the stove and picked up the kettle. After setting it on a cold burner, Jonathan turned back to her, his green eyes probing. “What’s wrong?”

Biting her lower lip, Alanna grabbed a couple of mugs from the cabinet. “The shed was unlocked when I got home.”

“Happens.”

“I always lock up.”

“Always? Even here?”

She nodded. “I’ve seen the worst in people. And tonight it’s confirmed. The plants along the path are broken like someone stepped all over them. And the shed. . .”

“There had to be more than it being unlocked.” He studied her like he knew she wouldn’t be that kind of woman. The one who panicked at every sound or event.

“It’s too dark to see what’s in there.”

Jonathan hefted the flashlight and flicked it on. She squinted against its light. “Bright enough to penetrate any dark corner and hefty enough to knock out any lurkers.” His tone was light, yet he didn’t laugh at her concerns. “I’ll go check, and you can wait here.”

“No way. I want to see.”

He shrugged and headed out the door. Alanna flipped on the back-porch light then hurried to catch up. The crickets had started their evening music, filling the night with a sweet melody. Against that backdrop, her earlier fear seemed blown out of proportion. Then a shrieking wail filled the night. She hurried forward and collided with Jonathan. He let out an
uhf
as the flashlight fell from his hand, clattered to the ground, then blinked out.

Jonathan’s arms slipped around her. “Steady there.”

She stilled, a flood of electricity zipping through her. A longing to stay right where she was warred against the need for space—lots of it. Jonathan dropped his hold and stooped to collect the flashlight. He thwumped it against his thigh, and it sputtered to life.

“That’s better.”

She nodded, even though she disagreed. She’d felt safe while he’d shielded her. Now she felt foolish and alone.

Jonathan hurried to the shed and stepped inside, and she watched the light play across the entrance.

“Lanna, stay back.” His words pulled her forward even as his command pressed her back.

“What did you find?”

“Nothing I want you to see. Go back inside.” She hesitated, and he must have seen. “Go.”

“No, this is my home right now. I need to know what’s going on.” She tried to look around him as he stepped from side to side, anticipating her moves. “Let me see.”

“You don’t want this in your mind.”

She hesitated another moment then pushed around him. A trap of some sort had been slid into a back corner. In its clutches writhed a young rabbit, weakly trying to escape. “Who would do something like this?”

“I don’t know. Please go inside.”

Alanna glanced at the rabbit once more then spun on her heel and hurried back to the kitchen. She rummaged through the cupboard for tea bags with shaking hands. Her dad never set traps. He might complain about the rabbits and other animals that chomped at his plants, but he’d never use something like that. So how had it ended up in the shed? Someone must have purposefully placed it there. Why?

Did she want to know even if she could find out?

She shuddered and prayed for peace while waiting for Jonathan to rejoin her. Heaviness weighed his face as he came inside. She handed him a mug of tea.

“Thanks.” He took a sip without looking in the cup and then spewed his mouthful across the table. He swiped a hand across his mouth. “What is this?”

“Mint tea.”

Jonathan set the mug on the table. “No thanks.” Concern shadowed his eyes as he looked at her. “I’ve got a call in to the police. Not sure when they’ll get here. I don’t like this, Lanna.”

“Me neither.”

He slipped around the table and sat next to her. As he placed an arm around her shoulders, she sank into his side. For the first time in a long time, she let someone else be strong for her.

Would he prove worthy of that trust?

As she felt him wrap his other arm around her, she prayed he would.

S
aturday passed in a flood of tourists and long hours, made even longer by the late police visit the prior night. When the chief had finally left, Alanna got the distinct impression he didn’t like her.

“You sure there wasn’t a trap in the shed.”

Alanna had nodded. “Daddy never trapped or hunted.”

“Hmmm. It didn’t just crawl in that shed.” He studied her as if searching for more.

“I’ve never seen it before.”

“I’ll take it back with me.” He looked at the trap with the enthusiasm of a condemned man. “Means a trip off the island in the morning.” He heaved a sigh. “All for something that will have your daddy’s prints on it.”

Alanna had wanted to argue, but fatigue won. Now Saturday passed in a collage of images, none distinct, yet all tied together. The image of tourists morphed into customers that melded with the paintings. When her stomach growled a rousing chorus, she locked up and headed for Main Street. The island would have to endure a closed studio long enough for her to find food.

Fifteen minutes later, she waited in line at the deli. A flock of tourists made slow decisions in front of her. She’d have to remember to call ahead. After waiting awhile, Alanna spun and collided with the person behind her.

“I am so sorry.” Heat flashed up her cheeks as she took in the perfectly groomed woman. Short black hair stood in gelled spikes that gave the woman a funky edge when combined with her artsy earrings and large necklace.

“Alanna Stone. Some things never change. Still head in the clouds.”

Alanna took a step back and tried to smile. “Ginger?”

Ginger Hoffmeister studied her as if waiting for another breakdown. “When I heard you were back, I couldn’t believe it. After all this time? Are things that bad for your dad?”

“It’s still touch and go.” She cocked her head as she studied Ginger. “You’ve changed your look.”

“My daughter dared me to be different. The things a mom will do to make her child happy. I think I let her talk me into something a bit edgier than I should have.” Ginger brushed the hair at the nape of her neck. “Auburn to black. Shoulder length to spikes. What do you think? Should I refuse the next time Kaitlyn talks me into mother-daughter bonding?”

Alanna considered her old friend another minute. “I like it. Reminds me of the girl who wanted a dragon tattoo in high school.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m glad my parents threatened the convent over that one. Can you imagine a tail wrapped around my neck?” Ginger mock shuddered.

“Probably wouldn’t have liked it long.”

Ginger quirked an eyebrow. “You never did anything like that? Even in college?”

“No. Remember I couldn’t even get my ears pierced? I’m such a chicken.”

“I’ll never forget how green you turned simply walking by that store in Cheboygan.”