by Cara Putman
“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 hiked 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.
9
Jonathan 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.
Five minutes later, water dripped down his neck as he pulled on khakis, a polo, and a fleece pullover. He shoved a couple of protein bars in a pocket and hopped on his bike. He didn’t see Alanna or her bike as he headed out. The fact he checked made him chuckle. For a guy who didn’t believe in true love, he sure wasted effort keeping tabs on Alanna. He could still catch her. He couldn’t imagine her riding hard enough to glisten before she got to work. Coming home was different than getting there.
He steadied his breath, pumping just to the point of raising his heart rate but letting gravity pull him toward Lake Huron. He hadn’t gone far when he saw a hot-pink shadow on an old bike. Hot pink? Still her color after all these years, though he supposed she called it something fancy like fuchsia now.
He pedaled harder to help gravity’s pull until he reached Alanna’s side. A headband pulled her hair back from her face. The wind had pulled a few strands loose, and they framed her face in a way that left his fingers itching to tuck them behind her ears.
She didn’t even glance at him. “Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Going your way, ma’am.” She must have caught his mocking
tone, because she turned to him and made a face. “I’ll slide around you then.”
“You betcha.” The way she said it with her mouth tipping up in the corner made him laugh.
“You haven’t been gone that long.”
“Feels years longer.” Then she glanced at him with that same ole mischievous glint.
“Uh-oh.”
“You have no idea.”
Next thing Jonathan knew, he trailed a hot-pink streak flying down the road. No way would he let her win. Not when he’d invited himself, creating the race.
He pumped up-down, up-down. Alanna seemed to have a sixth sense—or maybe she had developed a mother’s second set of eyes— because she knew exactly what he planned and slid into his way each time. He grunted as he braked hard, wheels locking to avoid her latest attempt to cut him off.
“You aren’t playing fair.” He gritted his teeth and tried again.
“Just trying to win.” Her voice wasn’t flirtatious or wry, just intense. They reached the point where Scott’s Road intersected with Leslie Road and turned right, but then she surprised him by turning right on British Landing Road, extending the time before they reached the busier roads. Maybe she had eleven years of frustration to take out in one bike race.
But as the trees raced past them on British Landing Road, he wondered if she’d remembered where they’d intersect Lake Shore Drive.
Alanna’s lungs strained to provide the oxygen her muscles demanded.
Who’s crazy idea was it to make an easy ride to work a race across the island?
At this rate she’d need a shower when she reached the studio, despite the May chill in the air. Guess it was a good thing the upstairs apartment stood empty. Who’d have thought forty-five degrees would fail her along with her Secret? Didn’t matter. She was not giving up. If she had any control on the race, she’d win. Plain and simple.
But no matter how many times she swerved or swayed, Jonathan wouldn’t back off. It made her think of the way he kept coming around. She’d only been on the island a few days, but already she’d gotten his message: he didn’t plan to go anywhere.
She bore down and swerved around a fallen limb. The bike didn’t have big enough tires to go over things like that. Not without bumping her off the seat and possibly giving her a flat. More broken branches had her steering in a crazy-eight pattern until she feared losing control. That wouldn’t leave the image she wanted in Jonathan’s mind. She flipped down a gear and hoped it helped. Next thing she knew, her back tire jolted, and she swayed to keep her balance.
An oomph from Jonathan made her want to look over her shoulder, but he bumped into her tire again.
“What are you doing?” Her voice rose, out of her control as adrenaline spiked her system.
“Trying to stay alive,” he huffed. “What’s with the pell-mell dive down the hills?”
“Just trying to get to work.”
“In one piece?”
She snorted. “What other way is there?”
“Slow down, crazy woman.” There was something in his voice that made her want to stop, ask for details. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
“And let you slip past me? I don’t think so.” She leaned forward, pumping harder still.
“Watch out!”
The command in Jonathan’s voice pulled her gaze up in time to see a branch loom in front of her face. It smacked her cheek, knocking her to the side. She fought for balance but couldn’t find it as her bike rocked side to side. She inhaled, trying to tighten her core as her Pilates instructor harped.
Next thing she knew, she lay on the ground, her bike wheels spinning over her head. She made a mental note to tell her instructor that advice didn’t work on bikes. Stinging erupted across her shins and palms where she’d collided with the ground.
Jonathan skidded to a stop and slid off the bike next to her. “Are you okay?”
Alanna touched her cheek, feeling a lump and knowing the pain would kick in soon. “Does it look as bad as it feels?”
“Better.” The concern in his eyes belied his words.
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Do you think you can get up and bike home?”
“Nothing doing. I’ve got to work.” She touched her cheek again. “I’ll stop for ice.”
“Let’s get you up.” He reached down and offered her a hand.
She accepted his help and moaned as he tugged her up.
He stopped instantly. “Did I pull too hard?”
“Nope.” She grinned at him. “Just wanted to make you worry.” He looked like he wanted to drop her hand. “Just kidding.”
“No you aren’t, imp.” He searched her gaze. “I don’t want anything to hurt you.”
She stilled, lost in the intensity of his look. If someone asked her for directions, she knew she wouldn’t know the first place to direct them on the small island that had been her home for nine years. And at the moment, she didn’t care. Being lost in his green eyes seemed like the best thing she’d done in a long time. She inhaled a shallow breath. Would he kiss her? What would it be like after all this time?
He looked down, breaking their connection. He pulled his left wrist in front and showed her his watch face. “We’d better get moving. We can get you ice and still open in time.”
She blinked. Had he caught her staring at his lips? She dragged her gaze to his eyes then over his shoulder to the pine trees towering over the trail. She needed to get away from this. . .thing. . .growing between them. She did not come here to resurrect ancient history.
She wouldn’t sign up for that. Not willingly.
“You’re right.” She pushed her bike upright. “Can’t have anyone thinking I’m not working today. The last thing Mom needs is a call from some helpful soul keeping tabs on me.”
Alanna wobbled onto the bike. Taking a moment to let her equilibrium stabilize, she started pedaling without waiting for Jonathan. He’d catch up. The bottom of the road loomed. As it did, her heart hiccuped.
How could she have forgotten what lay at the end of this road?
10
She skidded to a stop at the side of the road. Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t get her lungs to expand. She couldn’t breathe, and the realization terrified her.
She had to leave this place. But her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She stood paralyzed, straddling the bike with the view of waves crashing against rocks along a rugged beach confronting her.
A woman slowed down, concern on her face. Not Ginger Hoffmeister. Not now. Yet there was no doubt the short, slightly rounded figure belonged to her high school friend.
In an instant, she transported back to that day in May.
The sun burned hot on her face as she joined the other high school students. Seniors for one more week. The words tasted as sweet as cherry preserves on her tongue.
In a couple of months, shed head to University of Michigan, but before that a glorious summer of freedom stretched in front of her. She could spend every evening at the dock with Jonathan Covington. By Memorial Day weekend, he’d be back at his grandparents’ for the first of many stays over the summer. She couldn’t wait to see him.
But tonight her classmates celebrated. It had never felt so good to dance in the sunlight.
“Alanna?” Jonathan touched her shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”
“Ready?” She choked on the word. Who could be ready to revisit
the place that changed their lives?
“Alanna Stone?” Ginger approached, her auburn hair inches shorter than the long ponytail she’d worn in high school. Her nose still perked up at the end, but her emerald-colored eyes held concern. “You’re back?”
Alanna sucked in air, trying to force it into her lungs. Black pricked the edges of her vision. She needed oxygen. Now.
“Lean over.” Jonathan pressed against her back until her forehead practically kissed the handlebars. “That better?”
Alanna wanted to scream, “No!” Not while Ginger
Hoffmeister stared as she panicked.
“What happened?” Ginger’s soft voice conveyed concern, concern she couldn’t possibly feel or she would have contacted Alanna after her freshman year of college. Three years on the same campus, and Ginger had ended their friendship with her distance.
“Nothing.” She pressed the word past the knot tightening in her throat. Pushing back, she dislodged Jonathan’s hand and straightened.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Ginger studied her. “I heard you were back. Sorry I haven’t stopped by the studio.”
“I didn’t expect you.” Bitterness laced her words even as she gritted her teeth together.
Ginger seemed to absorb Alanna’s indifference and shrunk back. “It’s good to see you.” Ginger pushed off, leaving them behind.
Jonathan studied Alanna. “What was that all about? I thought you were friends.”
“We were.” This was too much. The scene of Grady’s accident and now Ginger. They’d been inseparable growing up. She missed the history they’d shared.
“Ready to get going? We can be at the Grand Hotel in minutes and by the library before you even notice you’ve started riding again.”
He was right. Before the morass of pain and images sucked her under, she jerked from his touch and pushed the pedals. She hadn’t noticed the bicyclers out for a ride in the early morning air, but she’d created a scene. One rider glanced away after making eye contact.
“I have to get away from here.” She stepped forward, thrusting the bike into traffic between two cyclists and hurrying into the fray.
This wasn’t a day to watch the last rays of the sun rising. No, today was a day to bury her head at the Painted Stone and pray for a quick escape. Nothing good happened to her here.
She never looked back on the ride around the perimeter of the island, yet she sensed Jonathan behind her. She didn’t need him shadowing her every move. Discovering every secret she kept hidden. No, she needed to push him away. Keep a safe distance. And get off this island as fast as she could. Tomorrow if possible. The weekend, definitely.