Summer Plans and Other Disasters

by Karin Beery

  I thoroughly enjoyed the time spent with Callie and Ryan in this story. I was swept away to the dunes of Lake Michigan, felt the sand between my toes, and laughed at the antics of an accident-prone young woman desperate to plan out her life. The heart-warming relationships between siblings and best friends make this a real page-turner. A wonderful debut novel that I expect will be followed by many more.

  —Pegg Thomas Author of The Great Lakes Lighthouse Brides Collection, The Backcountry Brides Collection, A Bouquet of Brides Collection, and The Pony Express Romance Collection

  Move over Cedar Cove and make room for Traverse City, Michigan. With an engaging style and characters that light up the page, Karin Beery’s debut romance, Summer Plans and Other Disasters, will charm readers in this picturesque and historic town set “up north” among some sweeping Lake Michigan vistas. Through the heroine’s tangle of mishaps and missteps, we are gently reminded of the quagmires that happen when we forget that, despite all our planning, it is the Lord who establishes our steps. There’s a lot of fun and romance in this sweet story that entertains like a delightful Hallmark movie, but a lot to be mindful of in our own Christian walks too.

  —Naomi Musch, author

  Karin Berry’s debut novel, Summer Plans and Other Disasters, is a triumph! Engaging characters, witty dialogue, and a few mishaps and misunderstandings on the way to love will keep you turning the pages on this charming read—perfect for any time of the year!

  —Dori Harrell, author, A Christmas Hallelujah

  Karin Beery’s charming tale of thwarted plans and misplaced love will have readers turning pages as fast as Callie creates another catastrophe. Her summer plans to restart a relationship with an old flame go awry, but will her new plans involve love? Readers will laugh and cry with Callie as she navigates her feelings, her spills and stumbles, and her future. Don’t miss Summer Plans & Other Disasters.

  —Ann Byle, author of Christian Publishing 101: Advice and Inspiration for Christian Writers

  Karin Beery has written a charming debut! The characters, the setting, the humor, the sweetness—everything popped off the page, and I loved every moment. I can’t wait to read her next book . and her next ... and her next!

  —Mikal Dawn, author of Count Me In

  Copyright Notice

  Summer Plans and other disasters

  First edition. Copyright © 2018 by Karin Beery. The information contained in this book is the intellectual property of Karin Beery and is governed by United States and International copyright laws. All rights reserved. No part of this publication, either text or image, may be used for any purpose other than personal use. Therefore, reproduction, modification, storage in a retrieval system, or retransmission, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, for reasons other than personal use, except for brief quotations for reviews or articles and promotions, is strictly prohibited without prior written permission by the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover and Interior Design: Derinda Babcock

  Editor(s): Cristel Phelps, Deb Haggerty

  Author Represented by WordWise Media

  PUBLISHED BY: Elk Lake Publishing, Inc., 35 Dogwood Dr., Plymouth, MA 02360, 2018

  Library Cataloging Data

  Names: Beery, Karin (Karin Beery)

  Summer Plans and other disasters / Karin Beery

  246 p. 23cm × 15cm (9in × 6 in.)

  Description: Elementary school music teacher Callie Stevens thinks she’s finally figured out God’s plan for her life—she even made a list to keep her on track.

  Identifiers: ISBN-13: 978-1-948888-24-0 (trade) | 978-1-948888-25-7 (POD)

  | 978-1-948888-26-4 (e-book.)

  Key Words: romance, contemporary, choices, lighthouse, lost love, beach read, women’s fiction

  LCCN: 2018951166 Fiction

  To Yooper Stewart, my favorite person in the whole, wide world.

  I started my writing journey in 2007. Since then, there have been so many people who have supported, encouraged, and helped me, I couldn’t possibly fit all of their names on one page. There are a few people, though, whom I have to point out.

  First, my agent and his wife, Steve and Ruth Hutson at Word Wise Media. Steve, you could have (and probably should have) given up on me a long time ago. Thanks for ignoring common sense. And Ruth, thanks for your patience in helping me appreciate a novel’s setting. I see it now.

  Deb Haggerty at Elk Lake Publishing Inc. You have literally made my dream come true. Thank you.

  Cristel Phelps, my editor and (now) friend. After working as an editor for a publisher, I found being on the receiving end terrifying! But your encouragement and kindness made editing an enjoyable experience. I hope one day my authors remember working with me as fondly as I’ll remember working with you.

  To everyone at American Christian Fiction Writers, American Christian Writers, and the Christian Editor Network. You’ve helped this extrovert survive and thrive in an isolating profession. I couldn’t have done this without you.

  To Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew, Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield, Kristy Thomas, Claudia Kishi, Mary Anne Spier, and Stacey McGill. You entertained me for hours as a child. My love of novels started with you. Thanks for sharing your adventures with me.

  To my family. You’re so weird. I love that you’re mine. Thanks for always supporting me.

  To my husband. I can’t believe you put up with me. You have done nothing but encourage and support me through this journey. You even learned to unload the dishwasher for me. That’s love. I love you.

  When God called me on this journey eleven years ago, I had stars in my eyes. If I had known how long and difficult the road would be, I don’t think I would have started. I’m so glad He didn’t tell me. The experience has been more about getting to know God and letting Him refine me than it has been about getting a book published. I’m not the same person today that I was in 2007, and for that I’m grateful. This book actually being published is an added bonus.

  “Need a hand, sweetheart?”

  Callie peeked over the top of her sunglasses. A slick-haired young man in a lime green polo shirt stood bent over, grinning at her through her open car window. She flashed him her best Julia Roberts smile as she inwardly groaned, then flicked her left wrist, popping the car door open and into his forehead.

  “Sorry.” She slid out of her car. “My older brother will be here any minute now. He can get some ice for that. Would you like to stick around? I think he went hunting. I could introduce you after he skins something.”

  The tall, tanned pretty boy shook his head and walked toward a group waiting nearby. Callie rolled her eyes.

  “Nice technique.” A familiar baritone voice rumbled.

  She smiled.

  “Lying’s a sin.”

  Callie spun around. “Didn’t you go hunting?”

  Her brother stood twenty feet away with his arms crossed, but he chuckled. “I don’t hunt.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  So was she. Callie launched herself at Jack, aiming for the waist.

  He laughed as he moved, and she shot past him, but he grabbed her belt and pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing until she giggled. “You never would have survived on the football field. You telegraph.”

  She squeezed him back. “It’s so good to see you.”

 
“It’s good to see you too. I hope you’re ready to get dirty this summer.” He dropped Callie back onto the gravel driveway and marched toward her car. “I’ve got less than an hour before I need to do rounds, so let’s get your stuff in the house.”

  As she followed him toward the Cavalier, Callie inspected her brother. His once neatly-trimmed brown hair, now sun-kissed, hung in shaggy waves. His shoulders seemed bigger. Obviously, his job as a park superintendent kept him in shape and also kept him tan.

  He was lucky to be naturally handsome. The filthy boots, ripped shorts, faded t-shirt, and baseball cap did nothing to improve his appearance. Apparently, he was still relying solely on his God-given assets.

  He popped the trunk, but Callie wasn’t interested in unpacking yet. One thing after another caught her eye. To her left, a pebble-covered parking lot surrounded by lush, freshly-trimmed grass that still scented the air. Tourists wandered through the field and parking lot, some stopping at a picnic table to eat.

  In front of her, she noticed that Jack had replaced the rotting log fence with hundreds of feet of white picket planks surrounding the lighthouse, garage, and nearly an acre of private lawn space, including his fire pit and chairs, a rope hammock strung between two giant oak trees, and their own picnic and grill area. Even from yards away, Callie recognized the angles and craftwork of the picnic table as her brother’s work. Obviously, he was still building furniture.

  Off to her right past the garage, and hidden among the leafy green trees, families talked and laughed as they hiked through the trails that filled the park. Eventually, they would come out on the far side of the lighthouse to the same place the picnicking tourists were migrating. Callie’s toes curled as they anticipated a dip in the cool Lake Michigan water.

  “Help me out, Cal.”

  Jack’s voice dragged her back from the shore. She met him at her car and pulled a box from the trunk. They paraded across the driveway, through the open gate and across the yard. As the manicured lawn tickled Callie’s exposed toes, a gentle puff of air tousled her bangs. It whispered in her ears, promising a summer in the sun, a summer to start over. The quiet promise grew louder until she recognized the voice—the rhythm, the tone, the timbre. The beach.

  Jack led Callie into the shadow of her home for the summer. Decades of history creaked beneath their feet as they stepped onto the faded deck of the Old Mission lighthouse.

  She smiled as a long-forgotten peace settled over her. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

  “Can’t believe good, or can’t believe bad?” He propped open the screen door.

  “I’m still deciding, but mostly good I think.”

  She followed Jack into the lighthouse. He walked right in, but she couldn’t help stopping to admire everything she loved about early twentieth-century construction. The outdated but solid oak cupboards in a cozy kitchen that opened into the quaint, window-lined dining room with its corner booth seating and well-used table top.

  Turning right and moving up three stairs, she froze. Gone were the ripped couch cushions and laminated build-them-yourself bookshelves. The wood-burning stove still greeted her at the top of the stairs, but everything else had grown up. The new brown sofa and recliner appeared to be on steroids, but they weren’t what captured her attention. She couldn’t resist the magnetic pull of the built-in entertainment center. Blond wood intricately crafted and carved with a rustic but delicate ivy inlay.

  Through the open archway in the adjoining room, she spotted a matching desk and bookcases. What had once been a bachelor’s sitting room, complete with a splintering Papasan chair and two cracking bean bag chairs, appeared to be Jack’s new office.

  Jack walked up to Callie and grabbed the box from her arms.

  She ran a now-empty hand over the carved ivy leaves trailing along the side of the desk. “You made this, didn’t you?”

  He cringed. “It’s one of my early pieces. It’s rough.”

  “It’s beautiful. I didn’t think you were ever going to get rid of that old furniture.”

  “You harassed me about it every time you visited. After five years, I figured you might have a point, so I decided to go back to these pieces and see if I could make them work.”

  “When did you have time to make it?”

  “I have to do something during the winter.”

  “I thought you tinkered with your truck.”

  “I don’t tinker.” He carried her box to the nearest bedroom, the one connected to the living room.

  “I don’t want that room.” He ignored her and nudged the door open with his foot, then disappeared. He reappeared without her boxes. Callie popped her hands onto her hips. “I don’t want to stay in that room. It’s like a powder blue bomb exploded in there, and the wallpaper is awful.”

  “Sorry.” Jack walked past her and out the front door.

  Callie hustled after him, but the heel of her sandal snagged the carpet and she tumbled down the steps into the dining room. Her elbow smacked the thinly-carpeted cement floor. Pain shot up her arm and shoulder. Grabbing her elbow, she rolled onto her stomach to muffle the moans.

  Two feet appeared out of the corner of her eye. “What are you doing?”

  “Testing my balance.” Callie hissed the words through clenched teeth as she willed the throbbing to stop.

  “Well, get up and help me.” Jack tapped her foot with his heavy work boots as he walked by. Callie pushed herself up with her good arm. She couldn’t let Jack think she couldn’t handle a little pain.

  She grimaced, but not because of her elbow. “Why can’t I have your old office? You obviously aren’t using it. Can’t I turn it into another bedroom?”

  “It’s already a bedroom. Ryan’s staying there.”

  Callie blinked. “Ryan Martin?”

  “Yep.”

  Tall, handsome, off-limits best friend to the big brother? Her heart dipped. Fabulous. “Why?”

  “His roommate decided to get married. Ryan had to move out.” Jack walked past her and out the front door. Never mind that he’d just altered Callie’s entire summer plan. She followed him outside. If she was going to share a bathroom with Ryan for three months, then she needed to know how everyone felt about the arrangement.

  “Does he know that I’m staying all summer?”

  Jack opened a car door and pulled out two suitcases. “Yep.”

  “And he’s okay with that? You’re okay with that?” Callie stepped right up to Jack. At almost six feet tall, she still looked up to her brother.

  “He’s not sharing a house with you. He’s living with me.”

  “Whatever. We’ll be in the same house.”

  Jack looked at her like she’d sprouted horns. “You’ve lived in the same house before. It’s no big deal.” He moved around her and back toward the deck.

  Callie’s heart skipped. “He went on vacation with us and spent the night. This is different.” Jack ignored her as he banged the black luggage into everything on his way inside. He clearly didn’t care about the living arrangements. Well, if Jack didn’t mind, and Ryan didn’t mind, maybe she was overacting.

  Or not.

  Callie slumped against her car. Ryan Martin. The schoolgirl crush that wouldn’t fade. He’d known her since she was ten, and she’d been invisible to him for just as long. Not that she could blame him. She’d been an obnoxious, weird-looking, awkward girl until five years ago.

  Femininity hadn’t hit her until her junior year in college. Make-up, clothes, hair—they suddenly made sense after her roommate explained their subtleties and benefits. Callie had never realized how blue her eyes could look or how the right shirt could flatter her curves instead of amplifying them. People didn’t ignore her anymore. Now they talked to her, and the more people she met, the stronger her confidence. She finally understood how to capitalize on her features and femininity, but Ryan had missed all o
f that.

  Not that he would have cared. Ryan didn’t judge people based on their looks. He’d dated a few women over the years. They’d all been attractive in their own way, but they were also intelligent, kind, godly women.

  Callie sighed. Jack was right. Ryan used to spend the night when they were kids. It wouldn’t be much different now. How much she dressed up or how nice she looked wouldn’t matter. Ryan had always treated her the same way. She would always be Jack’s little sister. Six stupid years between them and she would forever wear the “little” label.

  She could handle the situation. She had to. She hadn’t left her life in Alma so she could hang out with her brother and daydream about his best friend. That was a dead end, and she knew it. She was in Traverse City for Kyle. Only Kyle.

  Kyle Berg. Blood rushed to Callie’s cheeks. Her heart stopped skipping—it thundered.

  “Squirt!”

  Callie cringed. “Do not call me that.”

  Jack laughed. He was already back in the driveway walking toward her. “It got your attention.”

  “So does saying my name.”

  “I said your name. Three times.”

  Her eyebrows popped up. “You did?”

  “I did.” He stopped in front of her, his face crinkled in amusement. “I’ve got to go. Someone called in a complaint from Haserot Park. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

  “Don’t worry. I can get the rest.”

  “Is all of this yours? You’re only here for three months.” Jack frowned as he looked at the remaining boxes.

  Callie hauled a bag out of the back seat. “My landlord knows someone who might need a place this summer, so I agreed to sublet the apartment until August. I didn’t want to leave any personal items behind.”

  Jack shook his head as he walked to his truck. “All I needed was a yes, Cal.” He climbed into the cab of his shiny green, extended cab, heavy duty pick-up. “I have my phone if you need anything.”

  As he drove away, the weight of her situation pressed on Callie. She’d left her home and summer job to follow what she hoped were God’s plans for her summer. Having a room with Jack had worked out easily enough, but not everything was coming together like she’d hoped. Conditions weren’t perfect, and there were a lot of variables. Scenarios played through her mind, pushing up her blood pressure. What if this had all been a mistake? What if, what if, what if—she couldn’t let them suck her in. Only one thing could help her refocus.