Island

by Mary Davis

  She jumped back and sucked in a startled breath. “You scared me.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. I got a little nervous when you disappeared from my truck.”

  “Your friend’s house is so cute. It reminds me of a dollhouse.”

  Cute? Leave it to a woman to call a house cute. “Two bedrooms, kitchen, and living room. All the basics.”

  She pointed toward the garage window. “And studio space. I see you two have quite the setup in there.”

  “You want a closer look?”

  “Sure.”

  He used the house key and opened the outside door to the garage and flipped on the light.

  “What kind of guitar do you have?”

  “A fat Strat.” He motioned toward his sunburst guitar on the stand.

  “Play something.”

  As he picked up his guitar, Haley walked around Dalton’s drum set and sat on the stool. He plugged the cord into the guitar, turned on the tube head amp hooked to a four-by-twelve cabinet, and began playing one of the contemporary Christian songs they had listened to in his truck. After a few bars, Haley joined in humming. She was right on key and pitch.

  He wished he wouldn’t always judge people’s vocal abilities, but he couldn’t help it with having perfect pitch, his blessing and curse. He could know a person was praising God, but if he heard too many wrong notes, it was difficult to listen and hampered his own worship. But when a voice was clear and pure, he felt more drawn into worshipping the Lord. With Michelle, his gift had been a curse. But he sensed not with Haley.

  He transitioned into another contemporary praise song, and Haley continued to hum. He would love to hear her sing. Could he coax her into it?

  He brought that song to a close and moved into a traditional hymn. As he began picking out the notes to “Amazing Grace,” he sang softly, hoping she would join in.

  She closed her eyes and smiled. Then the words began to flow, and she harmonized with him.

  Beautiful. He began the first verse again and stilled his hands on his guitar. He softened his voice. He wanted to stop singing altogether just to listen to her but was afraid if he did she would stop, as well. He could listen to her all day. When the last note faded away, she opened her eyes.

  He gazed at her. “You sing beautifully.”

  “Ten years of vocal lessons.”

  He turned off the amp and unplugged his guitar. “Ten years? Are you a professional singer then?”

  “Hardly. I only sing in church and for fun.”

  He set his guitar back on its stand. “Then why so many years of training?”

  She took a deep breath as if reluctant to answer. “My parents.”

  He sensed her reluctance was that she did not want to bring up her reason for running away. He would leave that subject alone for now. “Your parents wanted you to become a professional singer?”

  “No. My parents wanted me to do other things for them. I learned early that I could get what I wanted with a little negotiation.”

  “You wanted to become a professional singer?”

  She laughed. “It had nothing to do with singing. With my parents pulling me to what they wanted, it was my way of being an individual in a family determined to swallow me up. No one else in the family did anything musical, so it made me unique. It gave me an identity.”

  “Do you play an instrument, as well?”

  “Several. I majored in music in college.”

  He sighed. “Another thing you do better than I do.”

  “Not better. Different. I stuck with the traditional orchestral and band instruments after piano. I know nothing of electric guitar or drums. My parents did have their limits, and I knew just how far I could push. Drums would have been too much for them.”

  That seemed like an opening. “Do you want to learn to play something on them?”

  Her face brightened. “Could I? Your friend wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Pick up the sticks.” He pulled a backless blue wooden chair with paint splatters on it up behind the padded stool she sat on and straddled it behind her. She held a drumstick in each fist. He reached around her and put his hands over hers. “Relax your grip. They aren’t golf clubs.”

  He drew in a deep breath. Hay and sunshine. He hoped he could concentrate enough to teach her at least a basic beat. “That’s the high hat cymbal, and those are the crash and splash cymbals and the ride cymbal. Three tom drums—small, medium, and large—and a snare.” He reached around her and pointed to each piece in turn, his arms touching hers. “At your feet are pedals for the bass drum and high hat. Cross your right hand over to the high hat, your left to the snare, and use your right foot for the bass pedal.”

  “Which one was the snare?”

  “Weren’t you paying attention?”

  “I confess I was a wee bit distracted.”

  So he could affect her, as well. He wrapped his arms around her. She sank back against his chest. He held her for a few moments in silence, then tapped the rim of the snare drum with his fingers. “This one.”

  He covered her hands with his and showed her how to keep a simple four-four beat; then he let go and let her continue the beat while he tapped his foot to help her keep the tempo. Once she seemed to have the hang of that, he showed her a three-four beat. She caught on fast.

  “Do you want to try something a little more complicated?”

  She craned her neck to look back at him. “My throat is really dry. Could I get something to drink first?”

  “Sure. Let’s go inside.” He followed her inside the house through the joining door, crossed to the fridge, and opened it. Pretty pathetic. “We have root beer, cola, and limeade.”

  “I’ll try some limeade.”

  He pulled out the pitcher and took down two glasses. “It’s a little more tart than lemonade.”

  “It sounds good.”

  He poured them each a glass. Dalton couldn’t stand his limeade and preferred sweet soda. He gave one to Haley and motioned her into the living room.

  “Where is your friend now?”

  “He works at the fort here. Did you know the fort was here first, and then they moved it to the island during the American Revolution?”

  She nodded. “We’ve had all sorts of island history drummed into us. Have you been friends long?”

  “Since third grade.”

  She walked around the room. “I sense a feminine touch here and there. Is your friend married?”

  “Used to be. Widowed.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s been three years.” He leaned against the back of the green recliner.

  “How long were they married?”

  “Eight months.”

  “That’s so sad.” She stood by the empty fireplace.

  “Dalton still has a bad day now and then, but he’s mostly doing well.”

  “That’s good.” She sat on the couch, but before he could do the same, the cell phone in his pocket rang. Should he even bother? He pulled it out and wanted to groan when he read the display. He gave a heavy sigh and looked at Haley.

  “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

  “Thank you. I won’t be long.” He answered and stepped back out into the garage. “Mr. Jackson.”

  “Have you found that worthless Mikkelson kid yet?”

  “I’m working on it. Mackinac Island employs thousands of people each summer. I don’t even know if he’s still there.”

  “Hurry up. Time is running out. I want his signature before the child is born.” Mr. Jackson went on to tell him how to do his job, a job he no longer wanted. But he had made a commitment and was determined to follow through until he had no leads left. He looked longingly at the door to the house while only half listening to Mr. Jackson.

  Nine

  Haley blinked her eyes open for a moment, then shut them again. What had she seen? Brent? She opened her eyes.

  Brent’s mouth spread into a smile. “You’re awake.”

  Haley sat up. �
��I must have dozed off for a moment.”

  “A little over an hour.”

  She widened her eyes. “I was asleep for an hour?”

  He nodded.

  “Great. Some date I am.” She had only meant to rest a bit while listening for Brent to come back inside.

  “I can’t say you didn’t warn me.”

  She raked her hands through her hair and yawned. “What? I told you I was going to take a nap?”

  “The other day when I asked you what you did on your day off. The first thing you said was ‘sleep.’ ”

  “I’m really sorry, Brent. Please don’t think I consider you boring or anything. Because you’re not.”

  “It just means you’re comfortable around me and trust me. That’s a compliment.” He slid off the green recliner chair onto one knee in front of her. “But since you feel in debt to me at the moment, I’d like to ask you something.”

  She didn’t like what his position insinuated. She wished he would stand up or something.

  “Will you. . .” He paused to take a breath.

  Haley held hers. He couldn’t be. He was bold but not that bold. She stood and faced him.

  He stood, too.

  That was better.

  “. . .allow me to kiss you?”

  She released her breath. Was that all? “You’ve already kissed me. Why ask now?”

  “That was a stolen kiss. Things stolen are never as rewarding as things freely given.” He stepped closer. “I want to know that you want me to kiss you. Because I want to kiss you.” He put his hand on her cheek. It was warm and comforting.

  The front door opened. “You’re here.” A brown-haired man, who looked to be around Brent’s age, stepped inside with a bag in his arm. “Oops. You’re busy. I’ll come back later.” He turned and walked out.

  “Dalton, wait.” Brent went to the door.

  Was that a “saved by the bell” or a “go away, you’re interrupting”? Her cheek cooled quickly where Brent had touched it.

  Dalton gave a sheepish grin. “I can tell when I’m interrupting something, and I’m soo interrupting.”

  “Get in here.”

  Dalton came back inside.

  “Dalton, this is Haley. Haley, Dalton. This is Dalton’s house.”

  A shock of dark brown hair hung down on Dalton’s forehead. She stepped forward and held out her hand. Dalton shifted the bag and shook her hand.

  He turned to Brent. “I bought chicken and sides, figuring you wouldn’t have eaten. There’s plenty for three, but you probably have other plans.”

  Brent glanced at her.

  She smiled. “The chicken smells great. I’m starved.”

  ❧

  After eating and helping clean up, Haley said to Dalton, “I noticed you have an electronic keyboard out in the garage. Would you mind if I played it?”

  Dalton gave Brent a quizzical look. Brent nodded. Then Dalton said, “Sure.” He led the way out into the garage and turned it on. “It works pretty much like a piano but has many more features.”

  Dalton was cute. He was trying to be gracious but wasn’t sure how to instruct her in using the instrument. “I have the model just before this one.”

  Dalton sighed, and his shoulders relaxed. Should she tell him she had played the drums she knew nothing about? No sense worrying him.

  What should she play? Something she hadn’t felt she could play on the organ in the church on the island. She picked the settings and turned to Brent and Dalton. They both looked at her in anticipation; what was this stranger going to play? “Do you both know ‘The Wonderful Cross’?”

  Dalton smiled and jumped to his seat at the drums, and Brent lifted his guitar strap over his head, plugged the guitar in, and turned on the amplifier.

  Since she was around musicians, she saw no sense in playing alone. She played the opening bars and began singing. Brent jumped in on guitar. She could see Dalton waiting his entrance. She was glad when she reached the chorus and Brent and Dalton joined in. Obviously these two had played the song together many times before. The second time the chorus came up, she closed her eyes and lifted her praise to the Lord. The one drawback to playing an instrument was that she couldn’t raise her hands to the Lord.

  She opened her eyes at the end of the song.

  Dalton looked giddy. “Do you know ‘Every Day’?”

  The three of them obviously had the same taste in music. She nodded and made her selections on the keyboard. “Are you singing lead?”

  Dalton nodded and ripped off the opening beat. She and Brent jumped in. Dalton’s voice was clear and steady despite drumming. She joined in with Brent on the chorus. Toward the end of the song, she backed off on vocals and listened to Brent and Dalton harmonize, then came back in.

  “You two have done that one a lot. Do you play someplace on a regular basis?”

  “Not anymore,” Brent said.

  “Why not?”

  Dalton shrugged. “We grew up?”

  “That’s a shame.” She turned to Brent. “It looks like it’s your turn to pick a song and sing lead.”

  Brent shook his head. “Dalton’s the lead between us.”

  “I heard you earlier. You can sing lead fine. Pick something.”

  He smiled. “Okay.” He turned a knob on his amp and pressed an effects pedal with his foot. “Let’s switch artists. Do you know ‘Shine’?”

  Brent played the opening bars. His guitar had taken on a distinctly distorted sound. Then Haley and Dalton joined in. Haley didn’t know the song well enough to play the melody, so she just filled in with some chords and the low end. Brent’s voice had a rougher edge than when he sang earlier, but it sounded good and fit the song.

  When the song was over, she looked at her watch. Time to go. “As fun as this has been, I have a ferry to catch.”

  “It’s that late already?” Brent looked at his watch, then switched off his amp and unplugged his guitar. As they walked through the house, she could hear Dalton playing a beat on the drums.

  Once outside, she rubbed her upper arms. “The temperature sure cools off after sunset.”

  “Where’s your sweater? In the house?”

  “No, I think I left it in your truck.”

  He opened the passenger door, then held her sweater for her to slip into.

  “Thank you.” She climbed in.

  He stepped in and drove to the dock.

  “We didn’t get to those other sights you wanted to take me to.”

  “I’ll just have to kidnap you for the day again next week.”

  She liked the sound of that. The next six days were going to drag in anticipation.

  At the ferry dock, Brent helped her out of his truck and handed her a ticket. “Thank you for spending the day with me.”

  “I had a great time. Thank you.”

  Brent held her hand as he walked her to the end of the dock where others waited for the last ferry to the island that night. She stopped short of the end of the meager line and faced him. “Yes.”

  He stared at her a moment, then raised both his eyebrows. “Did I miss something? I thought I was paying attention.”

  “My answer is yes.”

  His eyebrows worked together to pinch the skin between them. “Did I ask a question?”

  She tried to hold her smile in check and nodded.

  “I guess my mind drifted. When did I ask this question?”

  “Earlier today.” She wanted him to remember the question on his own.

  He dropped his shoulders and tipped his head sideways. “I must have asked a lot of questions today. But you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  Nope, she wasn’t going to tell him, but she definitely wanted him to get it. “I’ll give you a hint. It was at your friend’s house. . .just before he came home.”

  His confused expression morphed into a pleasant smile. “Just to make sure I understand correctly, I’ll ask again.” He stepped closer and cupped her face in his hands. “May I kiss you?”r />
  Her insides flipped, and she whispered, “Yes.”

  He pressed his lips to hers.

  The blare of the ferry horn startled them apart.

  “I have to go.” She didn’t want to.

  He gazed at her a moment longer. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She put her hands on his and took his hands from her face and squeezed them. “You don’t have to ride in my carriage. I’ll meet you for lunch at the Yankee Rebel. Do you know where that is?”

  “I’ll find it.”

  She reluctantly released his hands and boarded the ferry. She chose a window seat on the first deck and looked for him on the dock. He was quickly walking back its length toward the ticket booth, then disappeared behind the structure. Her heart ached to see him hurrying away. Once out of sight, she untied her sarong, unfolded it, and retied it the long way over her legs to keep them warmer. She sat leaning against the window and stretched her legs out on the bench seat. She looked at her watch. The ferry wouldn’t disembark for another five minutes. Why hadn’t she stayed on the dock with Brent until the last possible moment? It was what he’d done last night. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cold glass. It had been a wonderful day.

  Soon the ferry began to move.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  She popped her eyes open and saw Brent. “The ferry’s pulling out.” She swung her feet to the floor.

  “I know.” He scooted onto the bench next to her.

  What was he doing? “This is the last ferry for the night.”

  “Going to the island. But it’ll be coming back.”

  “You’re riding the ferry over just to stay aboard and ride it back.”

  “That was too sweet a kiss to let it be cut short by the ferry’s horn.” He cupped her cheek and leaned forward.

  She met his lips.

  After a moment, he pulled back. “That was much better.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and settled in beside her. “I wasn’t ready to say good night.”

  She shook her head. “You have sent my head spinning. I can’t believe you are riding the ferry just to be with me.”