by Cara Putman
Earl Matthews pivoted from the grill. “Hey, girl. Still like them medium well?”
“Yes, sir. No mooing please.”
He grinned and pulled the last burger off. After a prayer, they settled down and ate. When they finished, Earl scooped up the plates. “I’ll leave you to catch up.”
“I didn’t mean to chase you away.”
Patience made a brushing motion. “Don’t worry. He has some DVD he wants to watch. One of those macho adventure movies.” Patience grabbed the lemonade and refilled their cups. “So tell me what’s worrying you.”
“Have you seen Mom painting?”
“Lately? No, she’s been gone.” Patience looked at her with lines between her eyes.
That’s not. . .’ Alanna tried again. “Has she done much painting around the island? You know, hauling all her paints and things around like she used to.”
“Some, but she also said she didn’t need to see it anymore since she’s painted so much. I think her arthritis has bothered her, too. Must make holding a paintbrush challenging.”
“Didn’t she worry about capturing the light?” Mom had prided herself on following in the Impressionist line of chasing the light and capturing the ways it played.
“I’m no artist. That falls to your mom and brother.”
“Right.” Alanna took a sip of her lemonade, the tartness puckering her lips even as it cooled her throat. “Does anyone talk about. . .”
“That day?”
Heat climbed Alanna’s throat. “Yes.”
“Only occasionally. Days like the anniversary. Guess you missed that, huh?” When Alanna nodded, stomach tightening at the thought, Patience slid her chair closer. “You could have stayed. Everyone else did.” She sighed. “You aren’t the only one that day impacted. We all hurt. You can’t have a tight-knit community like this without a death—especially tragic—impacting everyone. We’ve moved on. Even the Cadieuxs understand it was an accident. Exactly what happens when young men go crazy. They haven’t figured out yet that life isn’t guaranteed. The stunts I’ve seen.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, that one didn’t end well.”
The truth echoed through Patience’s words. Running hadn’t solved anything. Instead, all the emotions of that day exploded inside with each new turn or person confronted.
As she rode home, she prayed. She needed to find the truth, whether or not it was what she remembered.
It was time to let the truth set her free.
Alanna spent Tuesday morning evaluating how many paintings she’d sold during the weekend. If sales continued at this steady pace, the Painted Stone needed more large art.
Alanna hated the idea her mother would ship more paintings while Alanna continued to believe they were frauds. The only alternative was bare walls, and that wouldn’t pay her father’s medical bills.
Several times she had picked up the phone to call, only to be interrupted by customers. This morning she sat in the shop with her e-mail application open trying to form the words for an e-mail.
Maybe that would make the tough questions easier to ask. At least then she wouldn’t have to hear the hurt in Mom’s voice when she took it as an accusation.
Mom, business has picked up. People have bought several paintings since I arrived. Which leads me to a question. . .
Alanna stared at the words. They would only make Mom defensive. She rubbed her temples as she considered how to rephrase the note.
The phone rang, and Alanna snatched it up. “The Painted Stone Studio.”
“This is Gerald Tomkin.”
She sighed and pushed back the thought that she should have let his call go to voice mail. “Good morning.”
“Now that the holiday weekend is behind us, I hope you’ve had a chance to consider joining the foundation board.”
The pounding in her temples intensified. “I’m honored. But I’m an attorney. Wouldn’t a CPA be more helpful?”
“You understand the island and its history. You’ll understand what we’re trying to do with the foundation better than some outsider who might have the right piece of paper. After all, you can’t get into law school without brain power.”
She bit back the urge to correct that fallacy. “I really don’t plan to be here long.”
“Mackinac will work its magic. I’m betting you stay.” His cajoling wore down her defenses. It wasn’t like she couldn’t continue via e-mail and teleconferencing after she left. If she wanted.
“You’re persistent.”
“Part of my charm.”
This sounded more like the man she remembered from school, convinced he was always right. . .and usually correct in that assumption. “All right. I’m happy to do what I can while I’m here.”
As for the rest, she’d wait and see how the meetings went.
“That’s all I ask. See you tonight at seven thirty.”
“What?”
He hung up before answering.
After the long weekend, the last thing she wanted was to spend the evening sitting at a table with people she barely knew and discuss business she didn’t care about. No, she’d imagined a night with quiet music, a bit of candlelight, and a heaping bubble bath—lilac scented to match the flowers emerging across the island.
A ding from her computer pulled her attention from the burgeoning pity party. “Let this be good news.” She crossed her fingers and moved the mouse to click on the envelope.
An e-mail from Trevor popped up, subject line reading Ready for more?
Increased ability to tell people no? Sure.
Added chances for true love? Certainly.
More peace and hope in her life? Absolutely.
But as she opened the e-mail, Alanna knew Trevor didn’t mean any of those.
Hey, sis. Mom mentioned this weekend the studio might be low on paintings. Especially if you’ve sold more. You have, haven’t you? I’ll get some up there ASAP. I’ve got three or four medium-sized canvasses ready to ship as it is. And with a bit of nose to the grindstone this week could have another three ready to go. TTYS. Trevor.
She read and reread the words, a heavy sensation cloaking her.
The words confirmed in black and white Jonathan’s accusations and her fears. What it didn’t do was explain why. Dread shrouded her at the thought. Could she fix this?
Alanna looked out the window, wondering when Mom stopped and Trevor started painting. No wonder something felt different. He would have the feel for Mackinac, but his perspective would differ from Mom’s. That would also explain the lack of geraniums. A guy wouldn’t notice that detail. No matter how much he trained himself to copy her style, he wouldn’t achieve perfection.
Jonathan walked by, and Alanna swiveled on her heel, hand to her face, and ducked beneath the counter. Maybe he hadn’t seen her. The last thing she could handle at this moment was talking to him. He’d see right through her when he asked how she was. He always could.
After the three-day weekend, she didn’t have the reserves to pretend this latest twist didn’t upset her. The rest of her family might not follow Christ, but she did—one good thing that came from leaving the island and heading south for college. She’d looked for friendship wherever she could find it, even in campus ministries. She hadn’t expected to find Christ at the same time. How could she reconcile what they were doing? Was it even possible? Her gut told her it wasn’t, which meant she’d have to confront them and figure out how to get them to understand why it mattered.
Alanna waited another moment. Surely Jonathan had continued on his way. After all, he’d had a busy weekend, too, with that wedding.
For years she’d imagined she’d marry long before her thirtieth birthday. Now she just avoided weddings. That was easier than seeing how close she’d inched to the date without even a boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
She puffed hair off her forehead with a breath. What a ridiculous word after a certain age. Namely anytime after college. Really, couldn’t someone come up with anything bett
er?
And who said thirty made her an old maid? She needed to get her nose out of a book and into the real world. A world where women married later and later. She deflated. It might work for them, but she’d imagined life with someone to share it with before adding a couple of kids to their union. In fact, that someone had been the man on the other side of the window for too long. But like it or not, he was taken—it was time to slay that vision permanently.
Maybe then she could move on and find her Prince Charming.
And maybe one day he would stop looking like Jonathan Covington each time she pictured him on his white horse.
Alanna’s calf muscles tightened, and she groaned. Hiding here all day wouldn’t work.
She inched her way up until she could see over the top of the counter. Her gaze locked with Jonathan’s, where he stood looking in the window. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she sank back down.
Could things get worse?
17
A hint of warmth touched the day as Jonathan headed down Market Street. The clock said it was time for lunch, and his stomach agreed. He ignored the fact he could have reached restaurants faster if he’d taken Main.
His path had nothing to do with passing the Painted Stone. Yeah right. He shook his head but didn’t alter course. If he happened to glance in that large window as he passed, it didn’t mean anything.
Other than the fact he had a divided heart. He’d spent part of Sunday evening with Jaclyn and Dylan, and when his thoughts hadn’t strayed to Alanna, he’d enjoyed it. But his mind wandered more as the picnic wore on.
He sidestepped a bike and frowned at the kid riding it. The sidewalks weren’t the place for those. At least the island had emptied at the close of the long weekend. He had a couple of weeks until his next event, giving him plenty of time to plan and dream up business. If he could maintain focus. . .a big “if” right now.
Maybe he should find a replacement for Alanna and usher her to the ferry and off his island home. His peace had abandoned him the morning she showed up at the cottage. He didn’t like being poised for any sound from her side of the tree line. Took all the relaxation out of being home. In fact, he might as well move down to a Main Street apartment.
He slowed at the studio, hands in his pockets, and looked inside. A blur of motion by the counter caught his eye. He glanced around but didn’t notice anyone in the Painted Stone. Maybe he should make sure Alanna was okay.
“Jonathan. Just the man I wanted to find.”
“Hello, Gerald. Headed to lunch?”
The man patted his trim stomach. “In a bit. First, I need a favor.” Jonathan eyed him. What would it be this time? “If I can.”
“Escort Alanna Stone to tonight’s meeting.” He eyed Jonathan like an eagle spies its prey. He must have found what he was looking for in Jonathan’s expression. “I knew you wouldn’t mind.”
“There’s a meeting tonight?” Jonathan scrambled for any plausible excuse to get out of going. Alanna wouldn’t agree to anything Gerald asked. After all, she’d spent hours during the summers bemoaning what an awful teacher and principal he was.
“Got to finalize some plans for the lilac festival if we hope to raise any money. If we want to use your plan for the swing festival, we’ll try out the process during the lilac festival.”
Sounded like another way to get free services. Too bad he didn’t have an out since he sat on the board. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I knew you would. See you tonight.”
Jonathan bit back the impulse to say, “Yes, sir,” and turned back to the window. As he did, Alanna’s blond head peeked above the counter. Had she hidden there this whole time?
He bit back a smirk. She must feel something, even if he merely annoyed her. It gave him a place to start.
He set his chin at a cocky angle and sauntered into the studio. All he missed was the fedora to pull off the Humphrey Bogart air she’d always loved in those old black-and-white movies.
As the bell jingled, she stood and brushed the front of her shirt. Now that he looked more closely, she seemed to have adopted the style of one of those classic actresses. Boatneck T-shirt and pedal pushers, or whatever they called those short pants.
“Jonathan, you can’t tell me you came here this often when my parents ran the studio.” She crossed her arms, and a soft swipe of color lit her cheeks from the inside.
“Gerald asked me to escort you to tonight’s foundation meeting.”
“You don’t need to do that.” The color leeched from her cheeks.
“It’s no problem.” He leaned an elbow on the counter and invaded her personal space.
“Really, I’ll be there without someone playing babysitter.”
“Doesn’t matter. I always keep my promises.” He stood. He hadn’t meant the jab that accompanied the words, yet by her stiffening, she’d caught it all the same. “I’ll come at seven.”
“But the studio is open until then.”
“Not tonight.” He shrugged as he moved toward the door. “You know how it is. Gerald snaps his fingers and gets what he wants.”
Jonathan didn’t have to look back as he left to feel the heat of her gaze.
After a full afternoon plotting with the manager at a local B&B that couldn’t afford its own event planner, he scrubbed his face and then swiped his teeth with a toothbrush. The effort wasn’t for Alanna. He needed to look his best if he wanted the foundation to hire him. And as he looked at his calendar, he needed the business to fill out his late summer. Otherwise it had the makings of a slim year. Unless he started working out of his cabin, he didn’t have places left to cut back. Like it or not, Alanna had to come with him to the foundation. He couldn’t afford annoying Gerald Tomkin.
He hurried down the stairs and onto the street. He needed to get to the studio before she left. Knowing her, she’d try to escape before he arrived.
The studio’s lights flashed off as he approached. He waited in front, and a moment later Alanna opened the door and turned to lock it. She spun around then jumped back with a squeak.
“Jonathan!” She pressed a hand over her heart then reached out and smacked him. “Are you trying to scare me?”
He rubbed his chest and frowned. “No.”
She sighed, and a bit of the stiffness eased from her shoulders. “Well you did. I really don’t need you to babysit me.”
He offered his arm. “I won’t bite.”
Alanna eyed his arm then decided it would be okay for the short walk. She filled the space with small talk as they walked to the foundation building. A few bikes lined the rack in front.
“How many people serve on the board?” Alanna licked her lips as she examined the bikes.
“Eight. The tried-and-true island lovers.”
“So they’ll all know me.”
He heard the unsaid “and my history” and wanted to throttle her. “Someday you have to shed that, Alanna.”
“Sure. As soon as men like Gerald Tomkin don’t look at me with knowing in their eyes. You have no idea what that’s like. I’ve decided to find the truth so I can put that day behind me. It’s time.”
“More than time.”
“I’ve heard you each time you’ve said that.” She removed her hand from his arm and studied the building. “Might as well get this over with. Guess I have ‘fool’ stamped on my forehead.”
“What?”
“There’s no other reason I’d do this.” She marched up the stairs, her flat slippers echoing against the wood.
“What about your heart to help anytime you can? You always jumped in to causes.”
“I guess that hasn’t changed.” She said it with an eye roll, but he was glad. That was the part of her he’d first fallen in love with. Well, after her long legs and beautiful smile.
The moment she stepped through the door, Alanna knew she should leave. This wasn’t where she wanted to be. Not now. Not with Jonathan next to her. They’d look like a couple to all the people who’d known her as
a teen. But some things couldn’t begin again, and she couldn’t erase the past.
Instead of a reception area, there was a thin desk with a laptop and phone. In front of it sat two folding chairs. A short hallway fed off that room, and a light shone from a doorway.
“It’s this way.”
“I know.” She brushed past Jonathan, only mildly regretting taking out her anxiety on him. He might not deserve it at the moment, but give him a few minutes, and he’d say or do something that would make her forget he could still be sweet.
As she entered the hall, the soft murmur of voices filtered toward her. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. Help me do this, Lord.
Steps approached the doorway, and a moment later Gerald Tomkin stepped in front of her. “There you are. I was about to call the cavalry.”
“No worries. Jonathan ensured I got here.”
“Even though she didn’t need me.” Jonathan stuck out his hand, and Mr. Tomkin gave it a quick pump.
“Come in, come in.” He clapped his hands together as soon as they were in the room, and the conversations around the table ceased. “You remember Alanna Stone. She’s agreed to fill her dad’s spot on the board until he returns.”
A few folks had the courtesy to wear pasted-on smiles, but Alanna sensed they wanted her here even less than she wanted to join them. She studied Mr. Tomkins profile. Why would he insist?
She glanced around the table and smiled when she reached Mr. Hoffmeister. “I didn’t know you were on the board.”
“From time to time.” He patted the vacant chair next to him. “I do my part.”
Alanna squeezed around the oak table and slid into the chair. “Thanks.”
“You need to come back by the shop.”
“Maybe now that the weekend’s over. Bet you sold lots of fudge.”
“Enough.” He pointed his chin at Mr. Tomkin standing at the head of the table. “He’ll keep us here all night if we aren’t vigilant.”