Where Your Heart Is (Lilac Bay Book 1)

by Rachel Schurig

  “Well, if we have a little extra time,” he murmured, his hands sliding lower on my back.

  I laughed, surprised to hear the sound come from my throat after the last hour. “No way, mister,” I told him, pulling back. “You said you wanted to show me something.”

  “Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “I was about to leave to come get you, anyhow.” He grabbed a folded blanket from the back of a recliner and handed it to me before picking up the basket.

  “Whatcha got in there?” I asked, trying to peek.

  “Sandwiches, lemonade, and cookies.”

  “So this is a real grownup date, huh?”

  He pushed my arm lightly as we made our way outside. “Hush up.”

  If David could sense I was preoccupied, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he told me about his day tending bar at Cora’s. Apparently, several of the Libbies had shown up and spent a full hour dropping things in front of the bar for him to pick up.

  “Poor thing.” I gave him a squeeze. “Want me to beat them up for picking on you?”

  He affected a long-suffering sigh. “That’s okay. I can manage.”

  We were nearing the marina, so I could guess what was about to happen. “You okay if we take the boat?” he asked lightly.

  No! I wanted to shout. I’m tired of facing my fears. Can’t we just stay on dry land for once? But I didn’t say any of that. “Sure,” I said, hoping my voice sounded casual. David dropped a kiss to the top of my head, and I felt a little better.

  Once David had the boat out of the harbor, he headed in the direction of the mainland, away from Blackbeard’s Cove. “Are we going into town?” I asked.

  “Nope. Other side of the island.” When I shot him a questioning look, he merely smiled. “You’ll see.”

  But when we pulled up to an old dock ten minutes later, I still didn’t see at all. We were on the far western part of the island, the area I knew it was hard to reach from town. It was rocky over here, the terrain hard to traverse on foot. “Come on, don’t forget the blanket,” he said, expertly tying the boat up.

  “Asking questions is pointless, I assume.”

  “You assume correctly.” David helped me from the boat and didn’t drop my hand. He led the way from the dock into the woods. The trail was overgrown, and it was dark out of the sun. “Is this safe?” I asked, my voice a little shaky.

  “Of course it is. Besides, you’re with me.”

  “And I can push you out in front of me for the bears to eat first?”

  He laughed. “There are no bears on the island, Iris. Not many big mammals at all. We get some deer coming across the ice bridge in the winter and a coyote or two, but we’re a small animal kind of place.”

  “Well, that’s encouraging,” I mumbled as he led me deeper into the woods. I realized that we were walking up an incline, one that was getting progressively steeper. We walked for about five minutes, my breathing getting more and more labored the higher up we got. David, of course, seemed completely unaffected. I guess that’s what happens when you spend your entire life walking around this rock without a car.

  Just when I was about to start to complain, the pine trees began to thin out a little bit. Suddenly, the trees cut off entirely, and we were standing at the top of a grassy ridge, high above the water. The view was incredible, a rocky cliff wall tumbling down into the water, the entire bay stretched out before us, the mainland glinting in the distance. Just up ahead, before the forest started up again, there was a riot of color. Purple.

  “Lilacs,” I murmured.

  “Yup,” David said happily. “The first on the island.”

  There were at least a dozen lilac trees here, their color deep and beautiful. I could already catch their scent on the breeze. “In the next few days, the other trees will start to bloom,” he explained. “Pretty soon, this whole ridge will be painted purple.”

  “Just in time for the festival.”

  “Exactly. I don’t know why, but these bushes always flower first. I was coming in from the mainland yesterday and saw some purple. I had a hunch if we came up today, we’d get a treat.”

  “These are really beautiful,” I told him, reaching forward to touch one of the little blossoms.

  “Just wait until the rest of them flower. You can see the purple from way out on the water.” He pointed at the ground. “Good spot to eat?”

  So I spread out the blanket, and David unpacked the basket. While we ate, he told me the story of the lilacs, the legend that had given the island its name.

  “So in the days of yore—”

  “Yore?”

  “It means a long time ago.”

  “Then why didn’t you say that?”

  “Are you going to let me tell this story or not?” I giggled and leaned in closer to his chest. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “So in the days of yore, there was this princess, the prettiest in the land. And her father, the king, was very protective of her.”

  “What kind of princess are we talking about here?” I asked. “’Cause I wasn’t aware there was a history of royalty in Michigan.”

  “This was before people, Iris. They were like, gods, or something. Spirits.”

  I sighed. “I am so going to have to ask my grandmother for the real story when I get home.”

  “Anyhow,” he continued, grabbing a slice of orange and sticking it in my mouth so I would shut up. “The princess fell in love with a commoner, which her dad was totally not down with. When she refused to give up her love, he built this island as a prison for her.”

  “He built it? How do you build an island?”

  “He used his ancient powers.”

  “Sounds legit. Continue.”

  David cleared his throat, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh. “He imprisoned his daughter on the island, away from everyone. She was so sad and missed her lover so much that she would wander up and down this very ridge all day and night, crying.”

  “Poor girl.”

  “And the spirits, feeling bad for her, turned those tears into the most beautiful flowers to cheer her up.”

  “So these trees represent a prisoner’s heart-broken tears? That’s kind of messed up, David.”

  “That’s not even the half of it. Her father got pissed that the spirits were interfering, and he sent his men to cut down all the lilacs.”

  “Wow. Way harsh.”

  “They had only had a chance to flower for a few weeks. That’s why even today, the lilac trees only blossom for a short time. And that’s why we always have our festival when they’re blooming.”

  I turned to face him. “David, that’s a horrible, depressing story.”

  He scowled at me, looking like he had that first week. It was kind of cute, now that I knew he didn’t hate me. “If you’d let me finish, you’d hear that it’s actually a very nice story.”

  “Sorry, I’ll be good.”

  “So the spirits were very mad that the king interfered with their gift. So mad that they froze the entire bay so the princess could make her escape. She went across the ice bridge and found her love, and they escaped together into the forest where they were happy forever and ever, blah blah blah.”

  “Blah, blah, blah? I thought this was an important story.”

  He ignored me. “And then the spirits brought the lilacs back every year at the same time to remind everyone of the power of true love.”

  “Aw. That is kind of sweet.”

  “So to celebrate, we throw a party in the square and drink mulled wine and eat hot dogs.”

  I laughed. “Sounds very much like Lilac Bay.”

  “Finish your lunch and stop insulting my island, woman.”

  I chewed on my sandwich, feeling much happier than I had at the beginning of our date. It was kind of a stupid story; probably the kind of B.S. people had made up to entice the tourists. But there was something to be said for sitting under a lilac tree looking out over the bay with David telling me stories about true love.

  My
phone rang, spoiling the moment, and I sighed, thinking of the restaurant. “I should probably make sure it’s not Eddie or Zane.”

  But a quick glance at the screen told me it was my mother. I hit ignore with more force than was probably necessary before sliding the phone back into my purse.

  “Hey, Iris?” David asked a moment later. “Did you get in a fight with your mom today?”

  I gaped at him. “How’d you know that?”

  He shrugged. “There was something on your face when you showed up. It gave me déjà vu. And I just saw it again when you looked at the phone.”

  I looked down at the blanket, not wanting to meet his eyes for some reason. “Yeah, I did.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “That day you came to see me,” he finally said. I didn’t have to ask him what day he was talking about. “You wouldn’t go on the boat when I asked you. It was because you were scared, wasn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  “I should have known something was going on. I’m sorry, Iris.”

  I finally looked up at him. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “It was easier to believe my friends,” he said. “To think you were just being a snob. Then to try and figure out what was really going on. I’m sorry for that.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for not telling you.”

  He rubbed his thumb across my cheek, his eyes searching my face. “I wonder what would have happened if you had.”

  My phone rang again and I sighed. “I guess she doesn’t want to give up.” But it wasn’t my mother on the other end. It was Posey.

  “It’s Pops,” she said, her voice tight and high with fear. “He’s had another heart attack. It’s bad, Iris.”

  Chapter 17

  My grandfather died on a Friday afternoon in his favorite chair in the living room of Lilac Ridge, the home he had lived in for more than seventy years. Mimi was there with him and told us later that he had been sleeping, that he seemed peaceful.

  I didn’t see her cry at all that first day. At the hospital, she was stoic and busy, making arrangements, taking calls. When we finally got her back to Lilac Ridge that evening, her main concern was her family. I watched as she hugged her great-grandchildren, Greg and Sage’s kids, as she accepted the hugs and condolences of countless neighbors and friends. No matter what she was doing or who she was talking to, if one of her grandkids passed, she would reach out to touch them. A pat on the shoulder, a squeeze of the hand. She even comforted Jasper, who was moping around the house, staring at everyone with his wide, sad brown eyes, as if some dog sense had already informed him that his master wasn’t coming home this time.

  More than once, I watched as someone collapsed against her in grief. Posey. My Aunt Deen. Andrew. She stood tall in that regal way of hers, wiping tears, making them laugh. She was the strongest person I’d ever seen.

  I stood apart from my family, separate from their grief. They had a right to it. They’d been here with him as he recovered from his first heart attack. As he battled the effects of the stroke. They’d been here for everything, all of the good and the bad over the years. I was the one who never came back, not even when they might have needed me. I didn’t deserve Mimi’s comfort.

  “How you holding up?” David asked me on Saturday. The house was still filled with people, more and more coming every hour. They brought food and stories about Mimi and Pops. “He would have liked this,” I said, ignoring his question. “All these people. Everyone eating.”

  “You’re right.” David took my hand, squeezing tight. “There was nothing he loved more than people gathered in his house, eating.” There was a twinge to his voice, a pain that I had never heard before, and I squeezed his hand.

  Even David had been a better friend to him, I reminded myself. David, who he had taught to cook.

  “Your grandmother is amazing,” he said softly as we watched her greeting some friends.

  It was an understatement. Her strength radiated through the house, somehow making it easier for all of us. It should have been the other way around.

  The one time she seemed close to breaking was when Eddie mentioned postponing the restaurant opening.

  “But you can’t do that,” she murmured, her eyes filling with tears. “You’ve all worked so hard.”

  “There’s still too much to do, Mimi,” he explained, slipping an arm around her shoulder.

  “So get back to work!”

  “Rose.” Zane took her hand. “We’re not all going to leave you. We want to be here. Together.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Mimi whispered to Edward, her voice shaking.

  “Don’t worry.” He kissed the side of her head. “We’re not giving up on that restaurant. Someday soon, we’ll open. And we’ll do it in honor of Pops.” His voice broke, and she pulled him into a tight hug, her own tears fading as she moved swiftly back into comforting mode.

  “I’ll go make the calls,” I murmured, a wave of disappointment managing to break through the steady thrum of pain in my chest. Eddie was absolutely right. Opening the restaurant on time would require a massive amount of work. There was still painting to be done, an entire wall to be drywalled, light fixtures to go up. We hadn’t even started to hang pictures or do any of the little décor-related things that would make the restaurant look worthy of the name Rose’s. It would be a tough slog to get it all done, and there wasn’t a single one of us up to it. Not now.

  But the thought of canceling all of our plans…. all of the journalists I had enticed to come out, all of the publicity I had carefully orchestrated. It hurt my stomach just thinking about it. It would have been such a great opening. Our grandparents would have been so proud.

  “Why don’t you let me handle it?” David said, pulling me away from the little knot of people surrounding Mimi. “I was going to head into town anyhow to check in on the café. I can stop at the restaurant and make the calls.”

  “How will you know who to call?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You really expect me to believe that you didn’t keep detailed lists of every person you invited to this thing? I’ve seen that ridiculous planner you carry around.”

  “It’s called being organized,” I argued, and he pulled me in toward him so he could kiss the top of my head.

  “I know. And your exemplary organizational skills will make it easy for me to handle this. You stay with your family.”

  I wanted to argue. He was already doing so much for us. But the thought of dealing with the business side of things, of going back to the still-shuttered restaurant, was dizzying. “Thank you, David.”

  “It’s not a problem,” he said simply, kissing my head once more before going to say goodbye to the family, asking if anyone needed anything.

  “Handsome and helpful,” Zane murmured in my ear as we watched him go. “He’s pretty good to have around, isn’t he?”

  “You have no idea.”

  As each day passed, a dull numbness settled over me. It didn’t seem real that my grandfather could be gone. When I first arrived on the island, he’d been at the rehab facility, but his presence had still surrounded me. It was in the food Mimi cooked and the way everyone talked about him all the time, eager to hear about his recovery, certain he would be coming home soon. He was still the primary topic of conversation, but never before had I been more aware of the fact that a person was absent.

  As we planned for the funeral, we saw less and less of David at Lilac Ridge. He called to let me know that Mike was sick, making him short staffed at the café, so he was trying to fill the shifts. I knew that there was nothing he could do at the house and that he was helping my grandmother a lot more by keeping the café open, but I couldn’t help missing him. Just seeing his face in the living room made me feel more calm, took away some of the terrible pain and fear that seeped through every one of us.

  The funeral was on Wednesday in the little white-shingled church in town. The entire population of Lilac Bay seemed to be in attendance. Several of
the stores on Main Street were closed in honor of the occasion, a fact that made Mimi well up when she heard it from Andrew. It was a simple service—the reverend knew my grandparents since birth, having grown up on the island with them, and told stories of their love and commitment, of the family they had raised, of the businesses to which they had devoted their energy and commitment. He talked of their love for Lilac Bay, for all of their friends. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

  The congregation gathered in the cemetery behind the church. I hated that part. Hated the finality of it, hated the way Mimi somehow still managed to stand so tall. She deserved to let her guard down, deserved to cry or wail or whatever else she needed to do. But she would never break, not with the town and the family around.

  I looked everywhere except at the hole in the ground. Across from me, I saw my mother reach for her sister, an action Posey mimicked with me a few seconds later, turning away from Paul to throw her arms around me. I felt like an imposter holding her. She had been so devoted to our grandparents our entire lives. A huge part of her life was going into that hole with the coffin. I had never even come home for Christmas.

  The next two days were a blur. Posey and I stayed with Mimi twenty-four seven, refusing to let her out of our sight. I was sure the stress and emotion of the past week was going to catch up with her at any moment, and I didn’t want her to be alone when that happened. Lilac Ridge was finally quieting down, though Mimi was still getting the occasional visitor. Flowers kept arriving at the house, big showy arrangements and more humble bouquets that had clearly been picked from people’s own gardens. Those got to me the most. Everyone knew how much my grandmother loved flowers, and to send her blossoms from their own homes seemed like the most personal and touching tribute.

  On Friday, the night the restaurant was supposed to open, Uncle Frank arrived at the house. “Mama, we’re going out for a meal,” he announced. “Lindsey is holding a table for us.”

  “Oh, Frank, I’m tired, dear—”

  “No arguments.” He pulled her from the kitchen table where she was addressing thank you cards. “You’ve had dinner with Pops every Friday night for the past sixty years,” he told her, his voice soft. “What kind of son would I be if I left you alone tonight?”