Книга - Family in His Heart

Family in His Heart
Gail Gaymer Martin


A Random Act of KindnessBusinessman Nick Thornton couldn't help being impulsive. But he had no misgivings about hiring away the fesity new waitress at his favorite diner. After all, he could spot a person in need, and Rona Meyers needed a protector.Yet, as he got to know her, he was humbled by her caring and no-nonsense attitude. Maybe he was the one in need–after all those long years he'd been struggling to keep his faith. With his sense of family shattered, Nick couldn't stop wondering if God wanted him to have a new beginning. And a new chance at love.












Family in His Heart

Gail Gaymer Martin










Dedication and Acknowledgments


To my sister, Jan Hoffman,

who was my research companion for this book.

Thank to Capt. James Shutt of Dream Seaker Chapters who agreed to a spur of the moment three-hour tour of the Les Cheneaux Islands and provided me with tremendous information. If I erred or distorted facts, accept it as an author’s prerogative.

Thanks also to Officer Troy Johnston of the Mackinac County Sheriff’s Department in St. Ignace for his assistance.

I am very grateful to the booksellers at Safe Harbor Books and The Book Nook for welcoming me, and to the Les Cheneaux Community Library and to Betty Bailey and her husband at the Drummond Island Tourism Association information center.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen




Chapter One


“Oh, no!”

The cry jarred Rona Meyers from her contemplation too late to escape the hot liquid that seeped through her pant leg as the waitress hit the floor along with the silverware. With customers’ exclamations ringing in her ears, Rona scooted from the bench to help with the mess, but a man in a nearby booth had scrambled up first.

Of all the men present, he’d been the only one to come to the waitress’s rescue and Rona admired the man’s gallantry. The more she looked, the more she admired him. His rugged handsomeness, his tanned face and his brawny stature caused him to stand out among the others present.

With his help, the waitress rose, her face glowing the color of a ripening apple while she still clutched the empty tray. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she ran behind the counter and through the door into the kitchen, leaving behind the mess of broken china and uneaten food.

Feeling distress for the young woman, Rona watched the intriguing man return to his booth before focusing on the dark spots soiling her otherwise clean beige pants. She grasped a paper napkin and daubed the stain, grateful the coffee had only been hot and not scalding.

When she looked up, the gentleman was eyeing her as if to acknowledge she’d tried to help the waitress, too. Rona gave him a feeble grin and looked away, uneasy with his obvious attention and hoping he hadn’t noticed her gaping at him.

The kitchen door remained closed and Rona watched it to see what would happen now. Would the young woman regain her composure and return to clean up the mess, or would she sulk for a while in the back room?

Rona had experienced the same feelings. Being a waitress wasn’t easy. The recollection settled into her mind—the hard work, low wages and the sometimes tip-less tables that she’d found so discouraging.

Ridding herself of the memory, Rona gazed out the window at the sun glinting against Lake Huron on Michigan’s north shore. The muted silvery gold streak rippled like the yellow line on the highway through the rain—or through tears.

A short distance across the lake one of the Les Cheneaux Islands rose above the water, its shoreline thick with trees and dotted by an occasional home—large homes with elaborate two-storied boathouses. She’d noticed the island on trips to the area with her friend Janie, who’d come to Hessel to visit her aunt. The memory had remained and had drawn her back here now when she needed to get away from her disturbing life.

Distant voices came from the kitchen; Rona watched the door, but the voices only grew louder. She looked away and noticed the stranger watching her again. He sent her a wide smile that made his eyes crinkle. His hair looked tousled. If he’d stop looking at her, she would enjoy looking at him.

Finally the kitchen voices silenced. The door swung open and a tall, lanky man charged behind the counter pulling meals from the serving window and scanning the crowded tables. He studied the tickets, then gave a nod as if he’d discovered his answer and slid the dishes up his arm and headed to a table across the room. He wore an apron, so she assumed he was a cook. This appearance brought an obvious question into her head. Where was the waitress?

Rona followed the man’s journey with her eyes, watching him hand over the dishes with skill, then head back toward the kitchen. As he passed, the good-looking man’s hand shot out and nabbed the cook.

Curious, she leaned closer, hoping to hear the conversation, but his soft voice didn’t carry.

The cook’s did.

“She quit, Nick,” he said, his arm swinging toward the kitchen door. “Walked out the back door screaming that she hated the job. Now I’m really shorthanded. No busboy today, either.”

Shorthanded. The word skittered down Rona’s spine, worked its way into her head. Her throat tightened with the words that formed in her mind.

Nick gave the cook’s arm a pat along with what appeared to be a look of encouragement, then his gaze captured hers again and her stomach twisted.

Nick reminded her of a lumberjack. She could picture his broad shoulders and wide chest pivoting as his powerful arms swung an ax. She couldn’t help but think of Michigan’s legendary lumberman Paul Bunyan. The name Nick “Bunyan” came to mind and she grinned.

When she focused, Nick Bunyan was smiling back at her. She wanted to sink into her seat. Instead, she turned her eyes on the cook as he headed her way.

“Sir,” she said, keeping her voice low while hoping he heard her.

The cook glanced at her without really looking. “I’ll get your bill in a minute. I’m short a waitress.”

Though she’d tried to hold them back, her need caused words to fly from her mouth. “I’ve done waitressing.”

Her comment jerked him to a stop. “You what?”

“I’ve been a waitress. If you need someone, I’ll give you a hand.”

His surprised look shrunk to a frown. “You’re willing to fill in for Gerri? You’re pulling my leg.”

“No. I’m new in town and need a job. One day’s work is better than nothing.” Her heart rose to her throat.

His jaw sagged as he seemed to contemplate what she’d said.

Looking at his expression, she wondered why she’d opened her mouth. Waitressing wasn’t her favorite work, but if he liked her, it could mean a start in the new town. She’d look for something more suitable after she had settled. Her meager bank account wouldn’t last forever.

“Butcher,” he said.

“Butcher?”

“My name. Bernie Butcher. Quite a mouthful, don’t you think?” He motioned for her to follow without giving her a moment to introduce herself.

Rona grabbed her shoulder bag, rose and dropped the paper napkin on the table. She stepped around the mess on the floor, not wanting to find herself flattened against the abandoned burger and ketchup-laden fries.

The kitchen door had begun to swing close, but she caught it and stepped inside, assailed by the odor of grease and heat from the griddle and frier.

Bernie—Mr. Butcher—gestured her across the room to a doorway. He followed, pushing open the door of a small storage area. “Put your belongings in here and grab an apron.”

She tucked her handbag into a niche and pulled an apron from a hook, then tied it around her waist. As she turned back and reached for the doorknob, she spotted a floor plan of the Harbor Inn’s seating arrangement and table stations. She studied it a moment, hoping she could remember which table was which.

While pride railed her for offering to help, common sense led her to the cook rather than following Gerri’s path and escaping out the door. “By the way, my name’s—”

“Food’s up for table six.” He pointed to the dishes lining the warming window.

Her head whirling, she read the ticket, recalled the floor plan and carried the food to the table she hoped was number six. As she approached, the diners’ expressions let her know she’d made a good guess.

“Here you go,” she said, balancing the plates as she removed them from her arm. “I’m sorry for the wait.” She eyed their near empty cups. “I’ll be right back with fresh coffee and some ketchup.”

The customers nodded and dove into their food while she scurried away to bring back the items. Her waitress skills popped into her consciousness. She refreshed their coffee, then put on a new pot and headed for two new arrivals.

When she placed their order, she grabbed the next ticket. Table three. The floor plan shot into her mind. Nick Bunyan. She gazed at the whitefish sandwich with a dollop of slaw on the side. Healthier than fries or a greasy burger. She pictured him swinging the ax as her unsteady hand grasped the plate.

Rona avoided his gaze as she crossed the floor to him, realizing someone had cleaned up the fallen mess. She slid the plate in front of him. “I’ll bring you a refill. Decaf or regular?”

“Regular, and nice job.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen.

His comment caught her off guard. “Thanks,” she said, trying to avoid his eyes. But he touched her arm and she had to look.

He gave her a faint smile. “Black.”

Black? The word hung in the air until she remembered the coffee. “I’ll be right back.” His grin unsettled her, though she knew she was being silly. Most people in a small town recognized a stranger and she was a stranger.

After filling his cup, she took other orders and refreshed drinks, avoiding him; but drawn by curiosity, she couldn’t help but glance his way. She saw him sipping the coffee and scanning a newspaper.

His gaze lifted from the paper to hers.

He’d caught her gaping again. Rona looked away as if she hadn’t noticed. She’d come to Michigan’s upper peninsula to get away from her past and keep a low profile, but she hadn’t done a very good job today. She’d lived so much on the edge of stress, tension knotted in her again.

Foolish. He was a good-looking man, a kind man, she reminded herself. He meant nothing by his stare. New in town, she was a curiosity.

She concentrated on her work, took orders and bussed tables, wondering why Butcher or Bernie, whatever she was supposed to call him, hadn’t hired more help. She would certainly earn her wage today—whatever it was. She’d forgotten to ask.

Rona zipped past Nick and pushed a utility cart filled with dirty dishes through the kitchen door. The lunch crowd had slowed and she stood a moment to get her bearings.

Bernie pulled out a basket of fries to drain and headed her way. “You’re a lifesaver.” He wiped his hand on his apron and stuck it out toward her. “And a good one.”

“Thank you.” She grinned at his overdone welcome. “I’m Rona Meyers, in case you want to know who’s worked here for the last two hours.”

“Sorry.” He lowered his head as if realizing what he’d done. “I own the place and when things go wrong, I lose my cool. My busboy called in sick and then Gerri quit. What I need is good steady help.”

She could be good steady help, but he didn’t know her and she was certain he wouldn’t hire a stranger. She only nodded at his complaints.

“Mandy should be here in another hour, and Jimmy’ll bus.”

“Then I’ll keep going until someone shows up.”

He’d turned away, and she was left feeling empty again. For two hours she’d had a purpose, even if it was only waitressing, but it appeared that in a couple of hours, it would be over. She’d find work somewhere.

Rona snatched an empty cart, pulled it into the dining room and parked it beside the counter, then grabbed the coffeepot. When she turned, she felt her heart sink a little. Nick’s table was empty, but he’d left her a five dollar tip—more than she deserved.

What did she care except he’d added a little excitement to her life. She grimaced, recalling excitement was what she wanted to escape.

The next hour flew past, and when a cute blond woman came in through the back door, Rona assumed she was Mandy. The woman gave her a strange look as if to ask what was she doing in the kitchen.

“Gerri quit,” Bernie said, apparently noticing her questioning look.

“Oh.” She moved closer. “You’re the new waitress?”

She wished. “I’m Rona. Just filling in.”

Her scowl turned to a smile as she extended her hand. “I’m Mandy.”

Rona shook her hand, then glanced at the clock. “Guess I can get on my way.” She eyed Bernie, waiting for him to offer to pay her.

Instead, he pointed toward the warmer. “Can you catch that?”

She scooted back through the door, grabbed the two fish platters, then stopped in her tracks. After only an hour, Nick had returned. Rona veered in the other direction and set the plates in front of two men deep in conversation.

Before she took another step, Nick flagged her to his table. “Mandy will catch your order. She’ll be out in a moment.”

“I’d like to talk with you for a minute if you don’t mind.”

A frown tightened her forehead. “Me?” She poked her index finger against her chest, sensing he was coming on to her.

He nodded. “When you’re finished.”

She eyed him a moment. “If you think—”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

He grinned and her concern eased, but it didn’t stop her questions. What did he want? Why had he come back?

His good looks melded with her curiosity and she realized she’d assumed the negative without using good sense. She’d come here to escape her unhappy life and now she realized she’d brought the fears along with her.

Without answering him, Rona shot back into the kitchen, longing to know what the man wanted, but thinking it might be best to leave through the back door. Before Bernie asked her to do anything else, she slipped off her apron, strode to the storage room and hung it on the hook where she’d found it. She pulled her shoulder bag from the niche and drew in a deep breath.

Gaining composure, Rona walked back into the kitchen. “I’m leaving,” she said, waiting for Bernie to acknowledge her.

He finally glanced at the wall clock, then turned his head to look at her. “We’re still short help. Why don’t you stick around until five.”

“Until five?” If staying meant the possibility of being offered the job, she needed to use wisdom. “Okay.”

“Family here?” He shuffled his feet as if he were hedging.

“No family. I knew the Baileys who live in Hessel. It was years ago, when I was a kid, and I always had good memories of the Les Cheneaux area.”

“When you were a kid?”

He studied her as if wondering why it had taken her so long to return to the area. At thirty-nine, she was far from a kid.

His jaw twitched as his eyebrows raised. “You mean Sam and Shirley Bailey?”

She nodded.

“Sam died last year, but Shirley’s still in the same place.”

Sam died. She remembered the friendly man who had been Janie’s grandfather.

“You’re only just visitin’ then.”

Now Rona shuffled her feet as uncertainty winged its way into her thoughts, but she’d made a life change and she would honor her plans. “I’m staying.”

“You did a good job today pinch-hittin’ like that.” He shuffled his feet again. “Lookin’ for work?”

His question raised her spirits. She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Actually, yes, but—”

“I’d like you to stay on. You worked hard and I respect that.” He smiled a toothy grin. “Plus, you surprised me making that offer to help and I surprised myself by accepting it. I don’t know you from Adam.”

She couldn’t help but grin back. “I saw you were in a bind.”

“I can give you six dollars an hour plus your tips,” he said, shifting closer and keeping his volume just above a whisper. “I know that’s not a fortune, but we have good tippers around here. For good service, that is.”

She pictured Nick’s five dollar tip. Six dollars an hour. Good tips. She remembered working for two-seventy-five plus tips. Rona did a quick calculation. Not a bad wage until she found something better. “I can give it a try.” She paused knowing she had to be honest. “But if something better comes along, I make no guarantees.”

He pondered her comment, probably knowing that not much else was available around the area. “You got yourself a deal.” He stuck out his hand and gave hers a shake.

Bernie held up a finger. “I’ll get you an application.” He strode into the storage room and out again with the forms. “You can sit at a table and fill these out and, while you’re at it, grab a bite to eat. I imagine you’re hungry.” He handed her the papers.

Sit at a table. So much for her back-door escape, and by now she didn’t want to. She was hungry and a free meal sounded good. She ordered a whitefish sandwich—Nick’s had looked good earlier in the day—then poured herself a cup of coffee and headed into the dining room.

Her gaze drifted to Nick, who had once again focused on the newspaper, sipping a cup of coffee that Mandy must have brought to him. He was leaning his shoulder against the wall and she guessed he was waiting for her. She still hadn’t figured out the reason he wanted to talk to her. She eyed him, then decided she might as well get it over with.

Rona bit her lips, knowing she was lying to herself. Getting it over with had nothing to do with her motivation. The man had captured her interest. Still she didn’t want the guy to get the wrong idea.

Grasping the application and her coffee mug, she ambled to his table vacillating between interest and indecision. “Sorry.” She waved the forms toward him and motioned to an empty seat. “Bernie asked me to fill out these forms so I’ll sit—”

“You can fill them out here.” He patted the space across from him. “I don’t bite.”

Her old uneasiness soared into her chest. He said he didn’t bite, but she was too gullible. Even her own brother had conned her into making a decision she lived to regret. She knew her brother, but what did she know about Nick? Wavering with indecision, Rona could feel the stress in her face.

“Please,” he said, his tone warm and genial.

She slid her cup onto the table and placed the application farther away, fearing she would stain them with her coffee. Her hands felt unsteady as she settled onto the chair.

“Fish sandwich’s ready.”

Hearing the voice, she turned and saw Bernie slide her dinner under the warmer. She halted Nick with her index finger and hurried to the serving window for her sandwich.

When she’d settled back on the chair, Nick gave the bun a coy grin. “Looks familiar.”

His lighthearted tone brightened her spirit. “You had one earlier, I know. It looked good.”

“It was.” He gazed at her and she felt heat rise up her neck. Get a grip, she told herself, embarrassed that she’d allowed this stranger to wheedle his way into her life. She’d been duped before and though he said he wasn’t thinking anything, how could she trust him? Maybe he was trying to pick her up. What kind of woman did he think she was? She’d always been too trusting, too unsuspecting, and it was time to change. She steadied herself and peered into his eyes. “I don’t understand why you want to talk with me.”

“I don’t, either,” he said, the same crooked grin spreading to his lips. “I’m curious, I guess.”

“Curious?” His words skittered up her spine. “About what?”

“About you. What made you volunteer to wait tables? I’ve seen waitresses blow their corks and dart off, but I’ve never seen a customer stand up and take over.”

“I’ve worked as a waitress.” She felt the heat in her cheeks deepen. “Are you telling me you came back here because you were curious?”

His gaze drifted out the window, then back to her. “My son has track practice and I’m waiting for him.”

Son. Then he was married. Embarrassed at her presumption, she lowered her eyes to his left hand. No ring. Did lumberjacks wear rings?

“You’re a good dad to pick up your son from school.”

Nick’s mouth twisted.

She’d never had her dad pick her up from anywhere, but then she’d been grateful he didn’t. So often he was drunk.

“He doesn’t have his runabout today and we live on the island.” He tilted his head toward the window.

She followed his nod toward the island across the lake, filled with lovely houses bordered by acres of thickly wooded land. Privacy. Elegance.

“I was at a contractor’s meeting in town and it was convenient.” He gazed out the window toward the water and the look on his face made her wonder.

Convenient? She sensed he was dismissing her “good father” comment. “It’s still nice.” Rona pulled her gaze from the window back to him, her memory drifting back to an earlier comment. “You had a contractor’s meeting. Then, you’re in construction?”

He fingered his coffee mug. “Yes, and I own a resort on Drummond Island, up the road a few miles.”

Construction, owns a resort—the man had to be wealthy. Her earlier lumberjack image vanished and she winced at her simplistic perception.

Her focus lowered to the table and the job application. For some reason she felt guilty. “I guessed you for a lumberjack.”

He chuckled. “No, but my family once owned a logging company years ago.” He offered her his hand. “My name’s Nick Thornton.”

Thornton. She felt another grin settle on her face. So much for Bunyan. She grasped his fingers. “I’m Rona Meyers.”

He studied her face while she waited for him to say something. Anything.

Finally he gestured to the forms she’d pushed against the wall. “Job application?” His expression had changed so quickly to a frown.

She studied him without responding. His smile didn’t return. “I need a job and Bernie offered. I figured I’d take it until something else comes along.”

He drew back, his scowl deepening.

The look threw her. What did he care? “I was honest with Bernie. I told him no guarantee. He still offered me work as long as I want. I don’t suppose I’ll find much else in a small town like this, anyway.”

He shifted her application form with his index finger. “There’s work if you know where to look.”

She studied his face, waiting for him to continue.

Silence fell between them again until she felt forced to speak. “Where should I look?”

“At me.”

“At you?” She enjoyed looking at him. He had a great smile, good looks and a playful personality—if she felt like playing games, which she didn’t right now. “What does that mean?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s too late. You’ve found your own job.” He lifted a newspaper from the chair beside him and slid it on the table, glanced at his watch and rose. “Gary’s probably waiting. I’d better get.”

He dropped two dollars on the table and took a step away before pivoting to face her again. “Nice to meet you, Rona,” he said, walking backward.

She watched him swing through the front door and felt very alone. He appeared outside the window, crossed the street and headed along the sidewalk beside the marina. Then he vanished from her sight.

The application lay beside her hand, and she eyed it while her mind soared back to her situation in Eastpointe when she’d been so naive. She’d had a number of bad relationships and now, with maturity, she was trying to decipher why she’d had such poor judgment. She trusted people too easily—that had been her discovery. The memory edged against her heart and the loneliness grew. She’d come here, knowing no one, really. Shirley Bailey probably wouldn’t remember her.

Her coffee had cooled, but she took a last drink, trying to focus on her new life here in Les Cheneaux area—in Hessel. When the desolate feeling passed, she shifted her attention from the application to the newspaper.

Drawing it closer, she turned it to face her. Odd. Nick had left it open to employment ads. She skimmed the list until she spotted Nick’s name. Her pulse tripped as she read the ad.

Housekeeper needed on Marquette Island.

Transportation provided. Good pay.

Room and board.

Contact Nick Thornton.

Transportation provided? With no bridge or ferry, that made sense. She studied his telephone number while her heart sank. Room and board. Good pay and an island. She’d be safer there.

But she didn’t know Nick Thornton. Could she trust him? She’d be alone on an island with a man she didn’t know. She rubbed her temples, then grinned. Could she trust herself?




Chapter Two


Nick pulled alongside the high school and watched the building. He liked to be on time. Gary had little patience and he tried not to stir up any more animosity than was necessary.

Kids were like that. They hated their parents once they reached their teens. Nick often wished he could ship Gary away to a farm and then bring him back when he’d become an adult and learned civility, patience and hopefully some love.

Fighting his son to live his Christian morals and values had gone by the wayside. Lately, Nick struggled to communicate about anything with Gary. He wondered if his wife hadn’t died would Gary be different? Jill. Her image flashed through his mind along with guilt-laden memories. He stifled the vision before it got hold of him again.

The May sun beat against the window and Nick rolled down the pane to let the breeze drift in. The earth smelled pungent as if the winter’s debris had revitalized the soil, making everything ready to grow. How often had he wished he could be revitalized that simply.

Revitalized. He pictured Rona, the woman at the restaurant. Now that was energy. She darted from one station to the next, pouring coffee, bussing tables and taking orders without a hitch—a bundle of the cutest energy he’d ever seen.

He could see her straight honey-colored hair bouncing against her shoulders, the sweep of the wave that tucked beneath her chin when she tilted her head. And those eyes, as gray as a stormy sky but with a hint of sunshine behind the clouds.

Nick snorted at his flowery rumination. What was he doing thinking of a stranger at the Harbor Inn? He needed a woman muddling his mind like he needed another belligerent son in his life. What he really needed was a housekeeper. Had he known she was looking for work he’d have told her about the job right away, stranger or not. He was desperate.

A breeze drifted in, bringing the scent of freshly mowed grass. He turned toward the school again and saw Gary meandering around the back of the building, his arm wrapped around a girl encased in the tightest jeans Nick had ever seen and a knit top that exposed more than it covered.

He shook his head, disgusted and saddened with today’s morals. As if he hadn’t noticed him, Gary leaned against a tree, nestled the girl into his arms and planted a kiss against her mouth. Nick tooted the car horn, hoping to end the public display.

At first, Gary didn’t move, then finally rolled his shoulders from the tree trunk, eased away from the young woman and ambled toward the SUV.

Nick rested his arm against the window frame and watched him amble nearer. “I’ve been waiting.”

“I’m not going home. I forgot to tell you.”

The young woman adhered to his side like a static-charged balloon. “Hi, Mr. Thornton,” she murmured.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a glance but not remembering her name—if he’d ever known it. “Gary, you should have told me. I’ve been hanging around town waiting for you. Better yet, you should have asked. What’s up?”

Gary’s face twisted to a sneer. “I’m going to Phil’s. We have some things to do.”

“What kind of things?”

“Dad, get off my back. Things.”

Nick’s body stiffened. “Please be more respectful, Gary. What kind of things? Studying?”

“Yah, studying.”

The girl snickered and nestled closer against his side.

Studying held about as much reality as cleaning his room. “It’s a school night and I’m not coming back to pick you up.”

“Phil’ll bring me home or I can spend the night.”

“No, you can’t. I want you home.”

Gary slapped the car roof. “Come on, Dad. I’m not six anymore. I’m sixteen.”

“That’s right, and when you’re twenty-one and earning your own living, you can stay out as long as you want.” Nick’s jaw tightened. “You’ll be home by nine.”

Gary scowled. “Ten.”

“Okay, ten, but no later.”

Gary drew back, lifted a hand and walked away.

Nick pondered the gesture as his son strode away from the SUV. Had it been a goodbye wave or an I-don’t-want-to-hear-this-anymore gesture.

Nick fell back against the seat, feeling the warm breeze but forgetting the fresh scent and hopeful sense of something new he’d had earlier. He and Gary had become an old argument for the past two years. The first year after Jill’s death had been one of silence. The last two had been years when silence would have been a gift.

His shoulders slumped as he pulled away. If he didn’t love his son so much, he wouldn’t care, but Gary was all he had now, his purpose for waking in the morning. With Jill gone—the word made him cringe—life had changed, and despite their rough times, his life had not just faded but died with her. He woke in the morning, ran his businesses, arrived home to be with his distant son and went to bed, wishing they’d never gone waterskiing that ill-fated day, wishing he’d never looked back at Jill.

The sunlight blurred against the hood of his SUV and he brushed the tears away with the back of his hand. He’d lost the sense of family. He’d become alienated from his son. Time to make changes. He needed to do something about his relationship with Gary. What, he didn’t know, but he hoped the Lord would guide him. He and Gary had to come to an understanding, at least a tolerable existence, and Nick knew he had to live again.

A voice sounded in his head—Rona Meyers, a feminine powerhouse. Maybe he could learn something about life from her. He’d seen those stormy eyes tinged with the hint of sunny hope. He needed hope and he definitely needed energy.



The late afternoon sun streaked across the lake as Rona exited the Harbor Inn the way she’d come in that afternoon.

She headed for her car, then stopped and looked back at the brick-red clapboard building with wide windows, letting reality sink in. She worked here.

The difference between Harbor Inn and the last café she’d worked struck her. Walking on the plank floor all day at Harbor Inn had been easier than the typical city-diner slab floor covered by tile or cheap carpet. Harbor Inn had a homey feeling. People knew people. They talked and joked. And if she needed anything right now, it was a sense of home.

She ambled past her car, drawn by the lulling roll of the lake. Small fishing boats lined the harbor along with private speedboats to carry passengers from the mainland to their homes on the islands—thirty-six islands, she’d learned from Bernie when he’d accepted her application and taken a minute to talk.

Pausing a moment, Nick Thornton’s image settled over her. He lived on the large island across the stretch of water. The distant homes looked lovely, large rambling houses with large boathouses, many two stories with rooms for guests. This kind of life she’d never experienced and never would.

She grasped her shoulder bag and crossed the street, heading toward the white building near the water, the marina’s office, where people could gather information and perhaps book a fishing trip. Beyond the office, a white gazebo stood in a small patch of grass closer to the water, too small for a bandstand, but it added charm to the landscape.

Lake water and fish scented the air, a vital smell that made her feel alive. Rona leaned against the gazebo and drew in a deep breath as she regrouped her courage and reminded herself why she came to this town in a little hook of land in the upper peninsula.

Wondering what life might be like across the rolling blue water, she turned back and headed for her small sedan, but before she opened her car door, she noticed a grocery store across from the Harbor Inn. Her cabin didn’t have a kitchen, but she could use some cereal and she could store milk in her cooler until she found something more permanent.

She veered across the street and headed inside. She gazed around the store sizing up what they had to offer. Cereal and milk for breakfast, a bag of chips and a six-pack of orange pop would serve her for now. She’d had a good meal at the inn and tomorrow she’d make more definite plans.

Rona paid the clerk, then stepped outside. Pressing the remote, she heard the comforting click of the locks. She shoved the grocery bag inside, then gave the lake a final look.

Her heart jigged a moment when she saw a broad-shouldered man with wind-tossed hair drive past her. His bristled jaw and solid features assured her. Nick. Rona followed his SUV with her eyes. When the road ended at the harbor, he turned left along the piers and boathouses.

Though feeling like a stalker, Rona climbed into her car and followed, curious as to where he was headed. Holding back, she saw him slow up and turn into a grassy area. She waited and soon he strutted from behind the cabins and crossed the street.

She rolled forward, seeing him march along the pier and stop in front of a good-size speedboat.

Nick untied the front ropes, then stepped into the craft and removed the back moorings. He vanished inside the cabin, and in a moment, she heard the motor hum and saw the boat head into the lake.

Her curiosity growing, Rona rolled closer to the pier and put her sedan in Park. She followed the wake of the bow as Nick headed to the big island. Nick steered along the shoreline, then rounded the bend. Marquette Island. It had to be.

She could picture his home, like him, manly and sturdy, but the image caused her to pause. He hadn’t worn a ring but he could still be married. He had a son. She lowered her gaze, mortified that she’d been ogling a man who might very possibly have a wife.

Rona shifted into gear, turned around in the nearest driveway and headed back to Highway M-134, determined to keep her curiosity under control.

The motel appeared ahead. Hardly a place to call home, but she would make the best of it until she had the chance to find a rental she could afford. The job offer at Harbor Inn had been a gift from God.

God. She and God had been estranged for a long time. All her life she’d believed that the Lord guided her steps, but the day her brother duped her into giving him a ride had been the day she figured God might guide other people’s plans but He’d allowed Satan to guide hers. Where had her fortress and shield been that day?

The remembrance shot through her and she didn’t want any part of the recollection. Her life had nearly ended that day, and instead of struggling with it, she preferred to pretend it hadn’t happened. That’s why she’d moved away.

She pulled in front of her log cabin and dug into her bag for the key. Logs seemed to be the popular building material in the area. It made sense; Nick had mentioned his family were loggers and she realized logging still provided jobs for many workers. Too bad she wasn’t a strong, outdoorswoman. Logging could provide her with a good income.

Nick had been on her mind since she’d met him. When he’d slid the newspaper in front of her, she decided at first it had been because he knew she wanted a better job than being a waitress, but when she saw the housekeeper ad, she wondered if he’d been interested in hiring her.

She questioned her good sense. The man didn’t know her. She could be a thief or an addict…anything. Why would he consider her?

She couldn’t imagine living in a house on an island, a big house with lovely furniture and at least some luxuries. Housekeeper? Could she handle a job like that. Why not? She’d cleaned many houses—her parents, her own when she’d been married, and then the variety of apartments she’d called home for short periods of time. Housekeeping as a job would hardly pay better than the waitress job. Still, it offered a room. Wondering why she’d let her mind wander to the ridiculous, she stopped herself from second-guessing.

A long, lonely evening lay ahead of her when she stepped inside the single square bedroom with a small bathroom. One glaring overhead bulb hung from the ceiling and a single lamp sat on the nightstand where she placed her purse and room key. She pulled open the brown-and-green plaid curtains to let in the five o’clock light. Night still came early in the north and she longed for long summer evenings.

She tossed the potato chips on the dresser along with the box of cereal, then checked her cooler for ice. Low. She’d need to add some cubes from the motel’s stash until she could buy a bag.

Sinking into the only easy chair, Rona looked around the room with its dark walls, mass-produced paintings and thread-worn towels beside the sink. What would it be like to live in one of those lovely homes on Marquette Island or any island for that matter?

She twiddled her thumbs, wishing she’d picked up a magazine and the newspaper. She needed to find a place to live. The TV remote lay on the nightstand. She pointed it at the TV. Snowlike fuzz dotted the screen. She pressed another button and a news program brightened the room. The newscasters appeared to have orange-colored skin.

Forcing herself to watch, she sank back into the chair, but the distorted colors and unfamiliar names and places left her feeling even more alone.

Why had she come here? She could have lost herself in a big city somewhere else. She’d had reasons to run away. They made sense to her, but making the move had been harder than she realized. At home she had a couple of friends and a father who’d spent most of his lifetime drunk. It hardly seemed worth sticking around the Detroit area and dealing with her brother again for them. Her brother had hurt her—disappointed her—too many times.

Yet she loved him. They were kin and she knew that should mean something. To him, it meant someone to rip off and manipulate. At least being home meant memories of her mother and the familiar, as bad as it had been sometimes.

She snapped the off button and picked up the ice bucket. Outside, she located the motel’s ice supply, filled the container and returned to her room.

What would people who lived on the island be doing? She couldn’t see the water from the highway motel, but she tried to imagine. Nick was probably sitting in front of the TV watching sports or the news while waiting for his wife to prepare dinner. She glanced at her watch. Maybe they’d eaten already. She pictured a cozy nook with a white tablecloth, the family chatting over dinner.

Maybe Nick wasn’t married. He needed a housekeeper, so possibly he was single, raising a son alone. Did he cook dinner or live on frozen meals as she so often did?

Enough. She shot from the chair. She’d rather work the night shift at the restaurant than spend the evenings alone. She paced the room, looking outside at the occasional car that shot along the highway. Goaded by her boredom, Rona thought of Shirley Bailey and tried to remember where she lived. She couldn’t just drop by without calling.

With a purpose in mind, Rona headed to the motel office. The woman she’d seen earlier greeted her as she entered.

Rona smiled and leaned against the counter. “Do you have a local telephone book I could use?”

“Certainly.” The woman reached into a niche below the desk and brought up a scrawny book that caused Rona to grin.

“Thanks,” she said, opening the cover. This time Rona couldn’t control her quiet chuckle. The book covered not only Hessel, but Cedarville, Rockport and other small cities nearby. She located the Hessel section and scanned the B’s. Bailey. Samuel Bailey. Shirley still used her husband’s name in the directory. Rona had tried to forget her husband’s name as soon as she could.

She dug into her purse for a pen and paper and jotted the number on the back of her grocery receipt. With thanks, she slid the book toward the woman and stepped outside.

Heading for her car, she pulled the cell phone from her shoulder bag, then leaned against the sedan and pressed in the Bailey phone number.



Nick stepped onto his dock and moored the boat. He looked up the incline to the house—the lonely house. Though he and Gary seemed like strangers, his son made noise and sometimes had breakfast or dinner with him. He wished he knew how to talk with Gary. They were like two islands connected by a drawbridge that had risen and never came down again.

He wondered if all parents of teenagers felt like he did. He barely knew Gary’s friends anymore. He didn’t bring them home and avoided talking about them, and the ones he knew from church had faded from Gary’s life. Nick didn’t even know the girl his son had wrapped in his arms at the school.

Facing that things had to change, Nick drew in a breath and headed inside. The pervading trees blocked the lowering sun except for the living room and the dining room. He snapped on a light to brighten the gloom that surrounded him.

The kitchen sink still held their cereal bowls from the morning. Nick rinsed them and slipped the bowls into the dishwasher. He drained coffee from the carafe, cleaned the used grounds and made a fresh pot. The silence pressed against his ears except for the soft groan of the water warming in the coffeemaker.

He sank onto a kitchen chair, his mind drifted to the sunny diner in Hessel and the intriguing woman he’d met. Nick had seen more sparkle in her eyes than he’d seen in years.

Yet beneath the glint of curiosity and humor, she’d been wary. He sensed it. But why wouldn’t she be? He’d been a stranger who invited her to sit with him and then talked in circles.

Nick should have asked her if she’d consider a housekeeping job. He called it that, but he needed someone in the house for more than housekeeping. Nick longed for someone to bring life to his home as well as keep the dust bunnies from multiplying and taking over. Most of all he wanted someone to keep an eye on Gary.

His past housekeeper, Angie, had decided to move to a big city, as she’d called it. He chuckled. If she thought St. Ignace was a big city, wait until she laid her eyes on Bay City or Saginaw.

Rona, he guessed, had come from the city. Maybe even Detroit. She had that look about her, and he heard concern in her voice about finding work and getting settled in the small town. Hessel’s population was even smaller than Cedarville where Gary’s high school was located.

The thought reminded him of his difficulties with Gary. Cedarville, that was the problem. He knew people in Hessel, but not as many in Cedarville. He didn’t have as many connections there. Maybe he could get involved in some way. The idea rattled in his head. He had so little time. How could he get involved?

The scent of coffee aroused his senses. He rose and filled his favorite cup, then ambled into the living room where he could look out at the lake. Shades of gold spread across the water; he watched the changing sky for a moment, then headed for the family room and caved into the recliner. He leaned his head against the cushion and looked through one of the windows beside the fireplace. The flowering trees and the darkening leaves reminded him that summer was almost here.

He looked away from the pleasant view as his mind headed toward his problems. What could he do to make a difference in his and Gary’s lives? He couldn’t go on like this. He had businesses to run, responsibilities to handle and now a son who appeared to hate him. He closed his eyes, hoping God would send him a message, anything to give him a hint of where he’d gone wrong.

When he opened his eyes, he saw her picture on the mantle. Jill. Her face laughing into the camera. He’d lived with the other side of Jill as well, the brooding side. Studying the photo he noticed Gary looked like her. He only had Nick’s light brown hair and maybe a similar smile, the smile he hadn’t seen much lately.

Nick rose and lifted the framed photograph. Each time he saw it, guilt knifed his heart. He slid it into the small secretary desk drawer. He didn’t need to be reminded of what he’d done. Life had moved on and Jill was in heaven, happier than she could have ever been on earth. He knew that for sure.

The sun had faded and Nick snapped on the light and ambled to the kitchen. Too weary to make dinner, he tossed lunch meat on two pieces of bread, took a big bite and headed back to the recliner.

By the time he’d settled back and tilted the chair, the sandwich had vanished. With a final sip of coffee, Nick closed his eyes, mulling over possibilities. He had batted zero finding a housekeeper. He just needed to be direct and see if Rona would be interested. At least he’d have one thing off his mind if she accepted.



Rona shifted in the comfy chair, feeling good to be here again in the Bailey’s cozy home.

“For a minute there, I didn’t recognize your name when you called.” The elderly woman grinned. “But then I remembered you were the little blond girl with straight hair and bangs.”

Straight hair and bangs. Memories swept over Rona. “That was me.” Her mind flew back to her skinny legs and scrawny body. She’d hated it then, but she looked at her rounder figure now and wished she had a little of that thinness today.

“You visited a few times with Janie, I remember.”

A few times. Yes, and the trips had always been such a wonderful reprieve from her difficult childhood. The Bailey house brimmed with sunshine, smiles and a cozy comfort she’d never known at home. Her mother tried, but her father had dashed all attempts to the ground.

“At least that’s what I recall,” Mrs. Bailey said as if questioning her own recollections.

Rona swallowed her memories. “You’re right, Mrs. Bailey. I visited numerous times. I haven’t seen Janie in years. I hope she’s well.”

“She’s fine. Lives in California with her husband and three children. Sweet kids.”

Husband and three kids. California. “That’s great.” Envy prickled along Rona’s neck, thinking of friends happily married with kids. Kids she’d never have.

“I’m so glad you called tonight. There’s nothing good on TV on Mondays.”

Rona held back a laugh. “I’m not sure any night is good, especially trying to watch anything on the motel’s TV.”

Mrs. Bailey leaned closer. “Where are you staying?”

“Up the road. Some small cabins.”

She nodded.

Rona wondered if she had heard her. “Just up the road,” she said, raising her volume.

“Those small cabins?”

“That’s right.” She’d wondered why sometimes the woman had given her a blank look. Now she knew.

“How long are you visiting?”

She’d told her earlier. Rona cranked up her volume. “I’m planning to stay for a while. Settle down here, I think.”

Her eyes brightened. “Really?” She cocked her head as if thinking. “You’ll have to drop by now and again. I don’t have lots of visitors nowadays since Sam’s gone.”

“I was sorry to hear about his passing.”

Greeted by another blank stare, Rona repeated herself, this time, louder.

“Yes, it’s been a little over a year since Sam died.” She looked across the room a moment and Rona followed her gaze but didn’t see anything particular that had drawn her attention. “Hard to believe he’s gone, except it’s lonely.”

Lonely. Rona knew that word well. “I’m sure it is. I’d be happy to stop by when I can.”

Mrs. Bailey perked up. “Good. I’ll make cookies.”

Sadness swept over Rona. She’d felt lonely when her mother died, but she’d built up a wall to protect herself. But recently that protection had failed and the same hollow feeling seemed to overwhelm her again at times.

“Are you retired?” She leaned back, her mind seeming to drift.

Don’t I wish. But when the question struck Rona, she closed her jaw and wondered if she looked that old. “I’m too young to retire. I found—”

The elderly woman’s eyes widened. “What was I thinking?” She shook her head. “I know you’re a young woman. Sometimes my mouth doesn’t check in with my brain.”

This time Rona laughed out loud. “That’s okay. Mine doesn’t either. I found a job in Hessel this afternoon at the Harbor Inn.” She told the woman what had happened.

“Doesn’t the Lord provide when we need Him?”

The Lord? Rona figured it had been her quick decision and downright luck.

“Do you have friends here?”

Friends. Rona’s shoulders lifted in a sigh. “Not really. I met another waitress today named Mandy, but she’s rather young.” Nick’s image sprang to her mind. “And I talked with a man named Nick.”

“Nick? The only Nick I know around here is Nick Thornton.”

Rona’s pulse tripped. “You know him?”

“Everyone knows Nick Thornton. He owns some big businesses around here. Even ran for city council before his wife died. Such a tragedy.”

Relief washed over her, then backlashed and the sensation rocked her. What did she have to be relieved about?

“He’s a good Christian man. If you get tired of working at Harbor Inn, you might ask him about a job. I’m sure he knows what’s happening in town.”

Her mind flew back to the restaurant. She could see Nick’s deep scowl when he said there was work if you knew where to look. They’d become silent while she waited for him to say more, but he hadn’t. “Where should I look?” she’d asked, and his answer had set her back. “At me.”

At him? Had that been what he meant, only that he knew where there were jobs? She’d hoped he’d been referring to his housekeeper position. She eyed her watch. “I suppose I should get back to the motel before I can’t find my way home in the dark.”

“Too late.” Mrs. Bailey swung her arm toward the window. “It’s already dark. You’re welcome to spend the night.”

“Thanks, but I need to get back. Anyway, I’ve been in the dark before.” Rona heard the unintentional irony of her statement.

She’d been in the dark too long, but not anymore. Never again.




Chapter Three


“Gary. You’ll be late for school.”

Nick listened and heard nothing.

“Gary!”

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. He didn’t want to play the silent game with his son. That’s what he’d received this past year. He’d tried everything to no avail and his frustration had grown to bitterness.

“Gary!” His voice boomed up the staircase.

No sound.

Gary hadn’t awakened him last night when he arrived home. The recliner had been Nick’s downfall. He’d fallen so sound asleep he hadn’t heard Gary come in. When he woke, he’d checked his watch—midnight—turned off the TV and hurried upstairs to check on Gary.

When he peeked in his room, it was dark, but he’d seen Gary’s bumpy form and felt relieved. He’d actually gotten home. Still he’d been tempted to wake Gary and find out what time he’d come in, but doing so would have been antagonistic. The situation had taught him a lesson. Nick realized he needed to stay awake if wanted to be a good father—his definition, not Gary’s. To Gary a good father was one who doled out money, said yes to everything and never asked anything of him.

Nick gave another yell up the staircase, then shook his head, grabbed the banister and took the steps two at a time to the top. He charged down the hallway and blasted his fist against his son’s bedroom door. “Gary!”

When he heard no sound, his pulse lurched. What was wrong? Tragedy happened in the blink of an eye. He’d experience it with Jill. The memory flooded him. God wouldn’t let something happen to his son. Please, he whispered. He pushed the door open, his pulse throbbing in his temple.

In the muted light, Nick saw the tangled blankets and same lump. His pulse escalated and he felt weak.

“Gary.” He stepped over shoes and clothing in clumps on the floor and grasped the blanket. He pulled it back. Empty. A pillow and twisted blankets created the form he’d seen. Intentional? He had no idea, but the possibility stabbed him and he prayed the lump had only been caused by Gary’s usual messy treatment of his room.

Nick’s stomach churned, but as he stepped back, he gathered his wits and strained to listen for the shower. Gary always took a shower in the morning. He darted to the bathroom farther down the hall. The door stood open. Struck by reality, Nick knew Gary hadn’t come home last night.

He slammed his fist against the bathroom door-jamb. He felt as if he and Gary lived in two different worlds and nothing could unlock the door. At the same time, fear spiked his anger and his pulse kicked in again. A boating accident? Car accident?

Nick charged to the staircase and at the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and got a grip on himself. Yesterday Gary had mentioned Phil. Nick knew Phil. He even knew the boy’s dad. He released a ragged breath, pulled up his shoulders and headed for the phone.

After finding the number in the phonebook, he punched it in, then waited as the telephone rang. No answer. His hope faded until he eyed his watch again. Phil’s dad had probably left for work and his wife had perhaps driven the boys to school. When the answering machine clicked on, he started to hang up, then heard a hello.

“This is Gary Thornton’s father. I—”

“The boys left for school already, Mr. Thornton.”

“Then Gary did—” He stopped himself, ashamed to admit he hadn’t known that his son had spent the night. “Thanks. I’ll catch him later.”

What kind of a father didn’t know where his kid was? He gripped the receiver, wanting to throw it through the wall, then hung it up, knowing he was angry at himself as much as Gary.

Whose fault was their rotten relationship? Maybe his. He should ask for names and phone numbers of all his son’s friends. He sank onto a kitchen stool and lowered his face in his hands. Lord, give me direction. Help me be the father I should be. I don’t know what to say to Gary or what to do that won’t bring a sneer.

Nick rubbed his face, his appetite gone though he’d eaten little the night before. He pushed away the coffee he’d made, turned off the pot and headed outside. He’d have to deal with the situation the only way he knew how.

Walking down to the boathouse, Nick drew in the spring air, wishing he felt as filled with fresh expectation. Things were growing around him, but his life seemed to have died in a stagnant pool of regret. He could see shades of green burst from the trees after the starkness of winter and he longed to have his life fresh again. He yearned for hope of something new and shining in his life.

Instead, he faced an angry son and an empty bed. Jill had been gone for three years and though their marriage had its bad moments, Nick had prayed they would stick it out and bring their relationship back to life. Since her death his loneliness had never faded, the deep empty space in his heart filled with regret.

Turning the key, Nick heard the motor purr. He steered to the shoreline and docked in Hessel. He located his SUV behind Lindberg Cottages and as he pulled away, he let his attention settle on the Harbor Inn and on the pretty woman with the long, golden-streaked hair. Rona. A pretty name for a pretty lady.

He’d thought of her last night, sitting alone in the quiet house. Why had he been drawn to her? Maybe her generous offer to help Bernie had triggered his admiration. She’d captured his interest and it unsettled him. No woman had cut through his anguish until yesterday and Rona had done it without trying.

Heading for Cedarville and the school, Nick’s mind darkened to his situation with Gary. Being a good business man, he wondered why he couldn’t transfer the talent to raising a son. Each situation took control, planning and wisdom. He’d been trained in the business world. He knew it backward and forward, but he had no training to be a father.

Everything took training and talent. Rona had mentioned she’d been a waitress. She knew the job. That had been obvious.

As he watched her work, he saw she had spirit. He recalled Jill’s lackadaisical approach to life. She wanted him to be more laid-back, but he’d been too honed to a structured work ethic. Now he realized he needed to change.

He had yesterday, sitting around Harbor Inn as if he had scads of time. Nick wondered what drove Rona. The look of concern in her eye when he’d first spoken to her had interested him, because it contrasted to her confidence as she worked.

The thought lingered as he pulled up in front of the school. He turned off the motor and headed inside to the front office. A secretary looked up from her computer. “Can I help you?”

“Attendance. Would you check to see if my son is in school?”

She rose and flagged him behind the counter. “Our attendance lady is down here. She might have the absence slips for this hour.”

He followed her down the hall, then stood beside the desk and waited until the clerk looked up.

“And you are…?” the woman asked, her eyes questioning him.

“Gary Thornton’s dad. I want to make sure he’s in school today.”

She nodded. “I saw him this morning.” She turned to the computer, apparently typing in his name. “He’s in history this hour.” She shuffled through the pink slips and nodded. “He’s not on the absence list, so he must be here. Do you want to speak with him?”

Nick struggled a moment for the answer. “If I could.”

She wrote the room number on a slip of paper and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said, clasping the paper and stepping through a door to the hallway. He glanced at the note and grinned. A hall pass. He hadn’t seen one of those since he was in school. He headed to the end of the corridor. H Hall the metal placard said on the wall. Gary was in H109.

Nick eyed the numbers above the doorway. H105. H107. He faltered outside of H109. What now? He could see the teacher pacing in the front of the room through the glass slit in the door. A hum of voices came through the transom. He straightened his back and knocked.

The hum quieted, then raised in volume and he could hear the teacher’s shushing. He watched her head his way and the door opened. She appeared to be surprised to see an adult.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m Gary’s dad. Gary Thornton. Could I speak to him a minute.”

“He’s reviewing for a test, but he can have a minute.”

The door surged closed and Nick felt his heartbeat kick. When the door sprang open again, Gary’s scowl faced him.

“Dad!”

Nick waved to him to close the door, then motioned him to step away from the window. “Where were you last night?”

“Phil’s. He couldn’t get the car to bring me home.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

Gary’s face twisted. “I’m not a child.”

“As long as you live under my roof, you’ll follow my rules, Gary.”

“I can move out.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Oh, so I’m bound to you like a slave.”

Nick’s stomach knotted and he saw he had headed into a direction he hadn’t meant to go. “Gary, look. I don’t want a slave and I don’t want a prisoner. I want a son. I care about you. I was worried until I called Phil’s.”

Gary drew back. “You called Phil’s?”

“Yes. His mother said you’d left for school.”

“Great.” Gary jammed his hands into his pockets. “I suppose you told her I hadn’t gotten permission to stay.”

Nick looked into his eyes. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t want to ruin the trust you have with Phil’s parents.”

Gary’s gaze flickered, as if weighing what Nick had said. Trust. The whole mess was about trust. Nick wanted to trust his son and maybe that’s what he needed. They both needed to earn each other’s trust.

“We can talk later. You’re taking a test. I’m glad you’re in school and I’m glad you’re safe. I lost your—” He shook his head, biting back his words. Nick had lost his wife, but how could he forget Gary had lost a mother. “I lost my temper.”

Gary’s face softened and he lowered his head.

“Go back inside. I’ll see you at home.”

Gary put his hand on the knob, then glanced over his shoulder as he stepped back into the classroom. “Thanks.”

His single word had nearly been lost by the students’ noise inside the classroom, but Nick heard it. He stood a moment in thought, then turned and strode outside, thanking God that he’d found words that had made a difference. He hadn’t heard a thank-you from Gary in more than a year.

Nick climbed into the SUV, struggling with what to do about the situation. He could ground him until—until what? He promised to be a good boy? Until he promised to show respect. That would work for a beginning, but at the moment the thank-you had salved Nick’s frustration and he let the question drop.

When he arrived at the marina, Nick started down toward his boat, but changed his mind and ambled toward the restaurant. Maybe he should eat a late breakfast, then get back to his paperwork.

Breakfast. Who was he kidding?

When he stepped inside, the aroma of coffee and bacon danced around him. He scanned the room. No Rona. Then the kitchen door swung open and she came out wheeling a cart into the dining room.

“Have a seat anywhere,” Bernie called through the serving window.

Nick gave him a wave and noted the direction Rona had moved in to clear tables. He found a window spot along the front and watched her.

Rona stacked dishes, tossed silverware into a plastic container and piled the soiled dinnerware into the cart. She wiped off the table and spun around before she saw Nick.

Her face flickered from surprise to an uneasy smile. She raised her hand in a hello and continued to the next table. She placed a cup and spoon on the cart, swiped the table clean, and parked the cart beside the counter before approaching him with her order pad. “Hi.” She gave him a questioning look. “Can I help you?”

He needed help, but he wasn’t sure anyone could solve his problems except the Lord. “How about a coffee and toast.”

She tilted her head and frowned. “That’s not much for a lumberjack.”

It took a minute for her comment to register, then he felt his tension ease. “Okay, then add some scrambled eggs with cheese.”

“And a side order of bacon?” She tapped the eraser end of the pencil against the pad.

He remembered the aroma that first struck him when he entered; his stomach gave a hungry gnaw. “And bacon.”

“Coming right up,” she said, her face relaxing to an easy smile.

Realizing he’d forgotten to pick up the morning paper, Nick rose and headed toward the door, but before going outside to the box, he spotted an abandoned edition folded at the end of the counter with no one around. He motioned toward the paper. “Anyone own this?”

A woman sitting nearby shrugged. “Looks like it’s yours.”

When he returned to his table he noticed the steaming coffee cup already waiting. She was fast. His gaze drifted toward the kitchen door. He shouldn’t have walked off so quickly.

Sometimes he yearned for friendly conversation—different from business talk or a casual “nice weather” to the postman. He longed for a conversation about meaningful things, life and faith, even disciplining children.

He’d notice Rona’s ring finger absent of a wedding ring and his speculation launched again.

His food appeared in the serving window. He knew it was his because no one else seemed to be waiting for an order. In a moment, Rona came out front, balanced the dishes along her left arm and headed his way.

“Here you go.” She set the eggs and bacon in front of him followed by a plate of toast. She scooted the jelly dish closer. “I’ll be back with a warm-up.” She stepped away, then stopped. “Anything else before I go on break?”

The sun came through the window and highlighted the strands of gold in her shiny hair that curled upward just below her shoulders. “Some company.”

“Sure thing.” She lifted her chin as if to nod, then stopped. “Did you say company?”

He patted the table across from him. “I need some advice.”

A frown returned to her face. “From me?” She pressed the flat of her hand against her chest. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all.”

She turned away and returned to refresh his drink, then left. She surprised him by her abruptness. He knew he’d been presumptuous, but he really wanted to talk. He felt drawn to her for some reason.

Nick looked out the window, heavenward. God knew he had needs. Maybe God had guided him to someone like Rona. Maybe she had wisdom to offer him.

Glancing back at the kitchen door, he wished he’d taken a different tack. He’d pushed a friendship too quickly. It wasn’t like him at all. Nick had never flirted, not even a playful innuendo, while he’d been married and never since Jill died. But in the past two days he’d been doing something and he wasn’t sure whether it had been flirting or not.

A whish of sound drew him back as Rona settled across from him with a cup of coffee and a muffin. She pulled a paper napkin from the holder, took a sip of coffee, then leaned back. “I’m the worst person in the world to give advice.”

“Why?”

She dropped her gaze and tore off a hunk of her muffin.

He watched her consume the bite, lick her lips and sip the coffee before she focused on him.

“I’ve never given myself good advice, so I don’t expect to have wisdom for anyone else.” She lifted her eyebrows as if to punctuate what she’d said.

“Do you have kids?”

“No. I was married once, but never had a child. It was best.”

Her comment piqued his interest, but he’d learned his lesson and kept his mouth closed before he scared her away. “I have a son.”

“Gary.”

His eyes widened until he recalled yesterday. “You remembered.”

She nodded, lifting her mug.

“He’s sixteen.”

Her concerned look changed to a chuckle. “Then you’re lost and so am I when it comes to advice. Sixteen is a bad age.”

“I know. He didn’t come home last night.”

Her smile faded. “Did you call the police?”

“I located him. He’s okay. He stayed with a friend.” Nick startled himself telling his personal problems to a woman he didn’t know. “I don’t suppose you want to hear this.”

“It’s tough raising a kid alone.”

She looked uneasy and he glanced down at his left hand wondering if she’d surmised he was single from the lack of a ring. Better yet, from his presumptuous behavior.

Rona fingered her cup, then tilted her head as if to give him the answer to his unspoken question. “I heard your wife died a couple years ago.”

She’d heard from who? Bernie? His shoulders knotted. What had Bernie told her? “It was three years ago.”

“Three. That’s still not very long. My husband’s been gone for ten.”

“Ten.” He studied her interesting face, her well-shaped mouth and compelling eyes. “You never remarried?”

She shook her head and looked away.

From her reaction, he decided he’d asked enough about that subject, but his interest didn’t falter. “Bernie told you about Jill?”

Rona inched her gaze toward him. Jill?

“My wife.”

“No. It was Shirley Bailey.”

Bailey? He shrugged.

“She lives on Island View Road. She’s my childhood friend’s grandmother. I dropped by last night to say hello.” She gave him a halfhearted disconcerted look. “I hadn’t seen her in years and wasn’t even sure she’d remember me.”

The last comment intrigued him, but he let it slide. “I don’t think I know her.”

Rona gave a half-smile. “She said everyone knows Nick Thornton.” She bit off a hunk of muffin. “She told me about your wife’s death.”

He searched her face, wondering if that had been all the woman had said, because he didn’t want to go there.

“It was very sudden.” He grasped the handle of his coffee mug and took a sip, hoping the pause would allow the topic to fade away. “Are you renting a place?”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Not yet.” She evaded his gaze.

He swallowed his next question, knowing it was too soon to ask and definitely bad timing.

“I need to find a place to stay. Do you know anyone who has a flat around here? Shirley told me you knew what was happening in town.” Her questioning expression turned him upside down.

Had she read about his job in the paper? If so, she’d certainly mention it. The image of his boathouse apartment flashed in his eyes and he bit his tongue to control the offer, sensing it was a bad idea. He’d already come on too fast. “Not offhand, but I’ll keep my ears open.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

He fiddled with his paper napkin, hounded by the desire to be honest about his job opening with room and board, but if she said no, then he would wish he had waited. She’d just started the job with Bernie and he really didn’t know her at all. He liked her, that was true, but could she handle Gary? He wanted to do what was best for his son. He’d be wise to give himself time to know her better.

When Nick refocused, Rona eyed her watch.

“Time’s up.” She looked disappointed as she slipped her mug onto the empty muffin plate. “I’d better get back to work before Bernie fires me on my second day.”

Nick managed a grin, but had to fight from praying for that exact thing to happen.



Rona settled into the easy chair, snapped on her bedside lamp and pulled the newspaper from the table. She needed to find a place to rent. This motel situation would drive her mad. The past four days these cramped quarters had felt like a jail cell. The thought prickled up her arms.

Jail. Prisoner. The words jarred her and she thought of her brother. Would Don find her? He would be paroled some time this month, and though he was her brother, she wanted no part of him. He’d nearly ruined her life.

She spread the newspaper on her lap, but before she could focus, the alien jangle of her cell phone jarred her. The cell had been meant for emergencies. She hadn’t given the number to her father, only a friend who promised to let her know if anything went wrong at home.

Rona closed the paper and dug into her bag. The irritating jingle continued as she gazed at the number without recognition. She said hello, and as soon as she heard the voice, she remembered. She’d given her number to Mrs. Bailey.

“I baked cookies today. Chocolate chip and peanut butter. I wanted to make sure I had something you’d like.”

“I love them both, Mrs. Bailey,” Rona said, hearing pleasure in the elderly woman’s voice.

“Would you like to come over for a visit? I’d love your company.”

Again? She’d only been there last night. She eyed the newspaper, feeling guilty, but knowing she didn’t want to give the older woman false hope of being a constant companion. Though she was pushing forty, Rona wanted to live a little before ending her social life.

“I have some things to do tonight, but how about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

Rona heard disappointment in the woman’s voice.

“All right, then.” She paused as if grasping for another comment. “I’ll make tea tomorrow.”

“Tea sound wonderful, and I know the cookies will be as good tomorrow as today.”

She heard hesitation in Mrs. Bailey’s voice, but she must have accepted her excuse. “I’ll be waiting,” the woman said, her cheery voice zapping Rona with sadness as they said goodbye.

Rona fell back against the chair, wishing she didn’t feel so guilty. That could be me one day, she thought. Lonely. Alone. Mrs. Bailey and she had that in common. Yet the older woman had enjoyed a full life with a husband she loved. Rona had life to look forward to if she could stop running and settle somewhere safe, somewhere she felt free.

Pulling herself from her reverie, Rona unfolded the small newspaper again and flipped through the pages until she found the rental ads. She read the few entries, disappointed. Most of them offered cabins by the month or week. The only other ad she saw wasn’t what she wanted. She had no desire to rent a house. A flat or apartment would serve her purpose well.

She turned the paper over to the Help Wanted ads and scanned the page. She didn’t see Nick’s ad for a housekeeper. Why hadn’t he asked her? She’d given him every opportunity. He’d probably found a woman already. The possibility weighted her shoulders. Living on an island would have been wonderful—a beautiful setting, room and board, and a paycheck. What more could she want?

And, best of all, Don would have a difficult time finding her, or at least getting to her. He loved to ride into her life like a knight with all kinds of promises and then leave her eating dust.

Dust. Rona licked her dry lips and realized she needed something to drink. She rose and reached for the cooler, pulled out an orange pop and nabbed the potato chip bag.

When she settled back, she picked up the newspaper again to read the local news. She wanted to become familiar with the town she’d chosen to live in. As she placed her thumb on the edge of the daily paper to turn the page, Nick’s ad lay just below her finger. How had she missed it earlier? Her pulse rose as did her hopes. Maybe Nick thought she wouldn’t be interested so he hadn’t offered her the job. Rather than second-guessing, she could just apply and get it over with. If he said no, she would just have to deal with it.

Then reality smacked her between the eyes. Nick knew she wanted a better job. He knew she needed a place to stay, but he hadn’t offered her the position. He could have asked. Nothing had stopped him, except his own choice.

Nick hadn’t given her a thought.




Chapter Four


Nick closed his car door and stood outside waiting to hit the remote while Gary sulked inside the SUV. Last night Gary had mentioned he might get home late from school again today, and, certain that his son planned to get away with something else, Nick had met him at the end of the school day, and this time insisted he go home with him.

Yesterday, he’d tried to control his frustration and broached the subject about Gary’s overnight stay at Phil’s and set down some rules. Gary only shrugged and blew him off. Rather than fight, Nick decided to give the situation thought and prayer. Today, he hoped to move a mountain.

“You can play the silent game with me,” Nick said when Gary finally dragged himself from the passenger seat, “but we really need to talk.”

With a half glance, Gary slammed the door and strutted past him. “Talk.”

“I have been. Now it’s your turn.”

Gary dug his hands into his pockets and kicked at the tufts of broad-leaved grass as they headed toward the lake. The progress they’d made earlier that morning had faded.

Disappointed, Nick looked at the stretch of water and knew talking was impossible over the roar of the motor, anyway, he needed to focus on steering the boat, not dealing with Gary. He looked down the sidewalk toward Harbor Inn, drawn there by the need for dinner he didn’t want to cook and at the thought of seeing Rona. This would give him a chance to introduce Rona to Gary.

He tilted his head toward the restaurant. “Let’s catch dinner in town.”

Gary stopped on the sidewalk without looking up.

“Aren’t you hungry? I don’t feel like cooking tonight.” He motioned again toward the inn. “Harbor Inn has good food.”

Gary lifted his shoulders in an I-don’t-care attitude and followed.

Nick knew there was little purpose in talking to Gary when he was in a bad mood, but maybe in the quiet atmosphere he could steer the conversation toward something that would relieve the tension. He wished they had someplace neutral where they could relax and be father and son.





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