She smiled down at him. “Hi, honey, what will it be? The cook has his special pasties coming out of the oven.”
“What’s a pasty?” He had a vague idea what they were because Dana had tried to make them a time or two, but he wanted to keep this pretty young thing around a bit. There was no mistaking the admiration in her glance as she took in his bulging biceps.
White teeth flashed in a seductive smile. “Honey, you’re not from around here, eh? It’s a meat pie usually stuffed with beef, onion, potatoes, and rutabaga. It’s a dish you won’t find much of anywhere in the States except up here in the U.P. It will put hair on your chest.” She leaned close enough for him to catch a whiff of the mint on her breath. “Not that you’d need that. Give it a try.”
Since Dana was being so skittish, he might relieve his stress with this bit of fluff. He gave her a smile. “You talked me into it. What time you get off, beautiful?”
“Midnight, but if the storm comes in, we might close early.” Her full lips curved up. “Where you staying?”
“Nowhere yet. Any hotels around?”
“You passed the only one on the way in, out where Houghton Street starts.”
He nodded. “I saw a No Vacancy sign. Any other towns close by?”
“Ontonagon is about twenty minutes south, and Houghton is on up north about half an hour.” She chewed her lip a moment. “I got room though if you don’t mind the sofa.”
“I don’t mind.” He added another lazy smile to his comment. No way would he be sleeping on the sofa. She was ripe for the picking.
“Let me get you fed, and I’ll see how the evening goes. Smitty might let me off early. I think the weather is going to kill any business.”
“Sounds good.”
He settled in for a leisurely evening of flirting with the server, whose name he still didn’t know, and figuring out this little town. A few customers came in, and their broad Yooper accent made him smirk. Dana had an accent like that once, but she lost it. He planned to make sure she was gone long before it came back. He’d even tried calling Chris, but the jerk hung up on him.
Garret drummed his fingers on the table, then decided to call his grandpa. The old man got lonely in the nursing home, and Garret tried to call a couple times a week. “Hey, Gramps, how’s it going?”
“I thought you’d call today. Wish you were here, boy. I won the chess championship. Got a trophy and everything.” His grandpa’s quavery voice strengthened as he talked.
“Great going, Gramps! I’ll be in Washington in a few weeks so I’ll stop by. See if someone will text me a picture of you with the trophy.”
“Already thought of it.”
Garret’s text-message alert dinged, and he glanced at the picture. His grandpa wore a chambray shirt and baggy jeans. The trophy was a small, cheap one, but there was no missing the old man’s pride as he held it up. “I just got it. Congratulations! Has Mom been by to see you?”
“She was here over the weekend.”
“That’s good.” Garret wasn’t on speaking terms with his mother, but at least she put the booze down long enough to check on her dad once in a while. He chatted a few more minutes with his grandfather who’d helped raise him until he heard the fatigue in his voice. “Love you, Gramps. Gotta go.” The warm feelings ebbed as he sat in the bar by himself. He shouldn’t be alone. Dana should be here.
Its lights still on, the library sat across the street and he watched a few hardy folks enter and exit before the lights finally winked out at nine. A streetlight illuminated a familiar face, and he bit back an expletive. He’d seen dozens of pictures of her and Dana. Bree Matthews, a kid on each side of her and one trailing behind, walked toward a Jeep parked almost directly across from his truck.
His gaze swept back to the library entry. No sign of Dana. Maybe she was waiting in Bree’s vehicle. He waited until Bree opened the driver’s door and the interior light switched on. It was empty.
Would she recognize him if he walked out and confronted her? This was all Bree’s fault. If she hadn’t coaxed Dana away, life would be perfect. Through slitted eyes, he watched her buckle in the younger kids, then climb under the wheel. She took out her cell phone and made a call while the engine idled. Her husband maybe or was she calling Dana? Had she recognized him?
He turned his face away from the plate-glass window and took a sip of his beer. Maybe he should get out of here. For all he knew, she’d called the sheriff who was already on the way to arrest him. He rose and tossed some bills on the table. The server rushed to intercept him.
“I just got the okay to leave.” Her voice was breathless. “I’m parked around back. That’s your truck out front?”
“Sure is.”
“I’m in a blue Chevy Blazer. I’ll pull around and flash the lights. You can follow me home.”
“Honey, I’d follow you anywhere.” He grabbed his coat and slipped it on.
“The name’s Tracie. Tracie Pitt. Just in case you want to know.”
He grinned. “Jarret. Jarret Mannon.” No sense in giving her his real name. He had to go to his job for a few days, but she would be a nice diversion while he figured out what to do about Dana.
She sent a smile up his way, then rushed for the kitchen. When he checked before stepping outside, Bree’s Jeep was gone. He darted to his truck and hopped inside. The snow was light and dry, easily removed by the wipers. In a few minutes, Tracie’s car paused beside his truck, and she waved at him. He waved back and followed her down the street toward a light winking in the distance.
He reached under his seat to make sure his gun was still there. Its cold surface reassured him.
CHAPTER 6
A dirty bulb pushed away the shadows from the third floor. Dana stood at the top of the stairs with her hands on her hips and surveyed the space. The ceiling rose ten feet, then angled down, giving it a cozy feel in spite of the dirty beige walls and dusty wooden floors. She’d expected to find the top floor crammed with old furniture and boxes, but the few items here had been pushed against the walls. Light filtered through the dirty windows from cars and streetlamps, but there wasn’t enough illumination to clearly make out much beyond the size.
Phantom left her side and went to nose around the room’s perimeter. Dana felt along the wall for a switch. When she flipped it on, one lightbulb from a bank of three in the ceiling came on.
“With a little paint this would make an awesome living room area for me,” she told Phantom, who didn’t look up from his sniffing of a cedar chest under one window. “What do you have there, boy?”
She’d seen the chest before in her parents’ room. It had been her grandmother’s and her mom often waxed it lovingly. “I thought this old chest burned up in the fire.”
Kneeling beside her dog, she ran her fingers over the wood. Her pulse sped up as memories flooded over her, visions of her life before everything turned upside down when she was eight. Mom used to keep mementos in this—things like old report cards, picture albums, and the family Bible. A padlock prevented her from lifting the lid, and she made a mental note to ask Chris for a key. What if the many things she thought were lost in the fire still existed? Chris should have told her.
He’d always been protective of her though. Maybe because he tried to live up to the role of a big brother even though they weren’t blood relatives. After her real parents and brother had died in the boating accident, her aunt and uncle adopted her. Chris was her uncle’s stepson, but he had always been there for her. Maybe he’d thought seeing this would hurt, and maybe it would have a few years ago. But the pain of losing her parents had faded enough over the twenty years since they’d died that she could handle it now. She struggled with the lock a bit, then gave up. It wouldn’t budge without a key.
As she rose, she heard a squeak as if someone was coming up the steps. Could Garret have found her already? There, it came again. Her chest squeezed and she looked around for her purse, then remembered she’d left it in the kitchen. Without her fingers
around the reassuring barrel of a can of bear spray, she felt helpless and exposed.
Phantom trotted toward the door with his tail wagging, and a bit of her trepidation lifted. The dog hated Garret. “Who’s there?”
“Hey, Phantom.” A familiar male voice echoed up the steps.
Relief nearly made her light-headed. “Chris? What are you doing here? I didn’t think you were due back from your trip for another week.”
Her brother came into view. His blond hair was in need of a trim, and a swath of it lay on his forehead. He wore a crisp gray suit and white shirt. His blue eyes lit when he saw her. He held out his arms, and she ran to hug him.
She buried her nose in his jacket’s rough texture and inhaled the scent of cold and wool. “You scared the fire out of me. I heard your footsteps on the stairs and thought Garret had found me.”
Chris released her, and his smile vanished. “Garret called me today. I told him to take a hike. I can’t believe how he’s treated you. I hate to say I told you so. I never wanted you to leave and go to a big city. It’s not safe. But you’ll be safe here.”
Chris and Garret had been bunk mates when they both joined the Marines right out of high school. Though they’d come from different parts of the country, they became best friends immediately. Chris had gotten out after six years to work as a college recruiter, and Garret had gotten out right after that. Chris had been livid when she moved to Washington to be with Garret a year ago. He’d been right all along.
It was good to see her older brother again. Since their parents died in a house fire five years ago and she left Rock Harbor, they’d spent three Christmases and a week one summer together. It wasn’t enough.
She gave him another hug, then released him. “What did he say? Does he know I’m with you?” Her hands shook as she tucked a loose strand of hair back into place on top of her head.
“I didn’t tell him if that’s what you mean, but yeah, he suspects. I mean, why wouldn’t he assume you’d run back to your hometown? It makes sense, and he’s not stupid. I told him not to try to find you and if he hurt you again, I’d kill him.”
“You don’t think he’ll come here?”
Chris hesitated before he shook his head.
She studied his expression. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He loosened his tie with a blue stripe. “I heard some background noise that sounded like a waitress. She said, ‘Here’s your beef pasty, love.’”
Dana reached out to touch Phantom’s head and took a calming breath. “So he must be in the U.P.” Up here in Yooper country was about the only place she knew where pasties were commonly sold.
“Maybe.” His smile came back. “But hey, I’m home until Sunday. I’ll be on the lookout for him.” He glanced around. “What do you think of your room?”
“It’s gorgeous, Chris! The touches you had for me on the second floor made me feel right at home. I can’t wait to dig in with paint.”
“Good. It’s your home forever if you want it. I have plenty of room, and I’m not here enough for us to get in each other’s way.”
She pointed to the cedar chest. “I didn’t know that survived the fire. It was my real mom’s.”
The smile seeped from his eyes. “I didn’t want to make you sad.”
“I’m okay now. I’d love to see what’s left. Could I get the key?”
“I don’t have it. I never had the heart to look through it myself. There’s a box of stuff in the basement I saved from the fire. It might be in there. We could look.” He gave a mighty yawn. “I’m starved. Is there anything in the house to eat?”
“Boone brought some food by, and I got a few groceries.” She went toward the stairs. “I’ll fix you some dinner.”
Her loneliness and fear were gone with her brother here. Chris would make sure everything turned out all right. He always did.
Sitting in the kitchen with Chris was like old times. She watched him as he wolfed down a sandwich. He’d taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. They’d often spent evenings like this together, and she was so blessed to have him to herself again. He was incredibly good looking and such a kind man as well.
He lifted a brow her direction. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She couldn’t hold back a small giggle. “Just wondering how you’ve managed to escape the clutches of a wife. You’re everything a woman would want.”
He grinned. “Spoken like a loving sister.” Rising, he carried his plate to the sink, rinsed it, then placed it in the dishwasher.
“Way to avoid the question.” She stretched and yawned. “My furniture is supposed to get here on Monday. That space on the third floor is fabulous too. I might take that for a living room area if you don’t care.”
“I told you that you can have both floors. I have everything I need down here. It’s really too big a house for me, but Dad always talked about how it would be a great building to restore and turn into a home. I couldn’t resist it when it went to auction.” He nudged her shoulder and grinned. “I’m just glad to have you here. I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too. It’s good to be home.” Things between them had been a bit strained since she’d left to follow Garret to Washington. If only she’d listened to Chris right from the beginning.
He held out his hand to help her up. “Want to look for that key in the basement?”
Though she was feeling a little lazy, his suggestion perked her up. “You bet.”
“I’m warning you that there are likely spiders down there. I’ve never gotten around to cleaning out the place. Things are stored down there from when this was a hotel.”
She suppressed a shudder. “My brave knight of a brother can bring the flyswatter. You can go first.”
He grinned and went to the pantry for the flyswatter and a broom, then led her to the basement door on the pantry’s other side. “Let me sweep the cobwebs out of the way first.” Brandishing the broom, he brushed down the ceiling as he descended the stairs. “All clear,” he called up to her.
She sneezed at the basement’s musty odor and kept an eye out for creepy crawlies as she joined Chris at the bottom of the steps. The single bulb overhead cast a sickly light over the space. One room branched off to the right and another to the left. The limestone walls told her the building was old, and the heavy shelves lining the walls were equally old and filled with ancient items like bent and rusting flatware, old linens thick with mildew, broken Christmas tree ornaments, cans of rusty paint, old shoes, and several old paintings.
She blew the dust off a watercolor of a Paris scene. “This is pretty. I might put it in my room.”
“It’s all yours.” Chris’s shoes crunched on grit as he walked off to her right. “I think that stuff I told you about is over here under the stairs.” He stopped to click on another light, and the back area grew brighter.
This area looked more likely to contain spiders, so she gingerly followed him. “Keep that flyswatter handy, Sir Chris.”
His low chuckle rumbled. “Here it is.”
His broad back obscured her view, but the scrape of something on the floor told her he was pulling it out and checking for nasty creatures. She caught a glimpse of a large cardboard box, the kind copier paper came in.
He scooted it around under the light and brushed it off with the broom, then lifted the lid and set it aside on the floor. “Have at it, kiddo.”
The scent of smoke still clung to the contents, and she could hardly force herself to dig into them. “Who packed this stuff?”
“Jane Cork. She said she threw in things she thought we might want someday.”
Jane was their mother’s best friend. She’d lived next door with her husband who owned a marina. The box contained a jumble of things. Dana spied an old Bible, two passports, a Best Teacher trophy with her uncle’s name on it, several books that might be journals, and a mishmash of old jewelry in the bottom.
She sorted through the jewelry. “Here’
s the key.” She lifted it in triumph. “I think I might like to take the Bible and journals to my room if that’s okay.”
“Better off with you than stuck in this old, damp basement.”
She tucked the items under her arm. “Let’s go check out the chest.”
Chris put the lid back on the box and slid it into its hiding space under the stairs. “Lead the way.”
It was like a treasure hunt, an exploration into their past. Did he feel the excitement of it the way she did? She shot him a glance, and his blue eyes held an intent expression too. It was like reconnecting with their former selves.
The third floor held a glimmer of light from the moon outside. She flipped on the lights and went straight to the chest. “I hope this fits it.” She inserted the key and turned it until it clicked. “It’s open!” She struggled to open the lid, so she stepped back and let Chris lift it.
Kneeling in front of it, she removed the contents: old baby pictures of her, her birth certificate, report cards from her early school years, old baby clothes, and several favorite old toys she’d forgotten about long ago.
Chris bent over and picked up a picture of Dana with a little boy and two smiling adults. “This is from when you were little, before you came to us.”
A lump formed in her throat as she took the picture and stared at her first family. She wanted to cling to her few memories of that time, but she didn’t want Chris to see how much it hurt. It would bother him if he thought he wasn’t enough to make up for the loss of her first family. “I sometimes forget you’re really my cousin and not my brother.”
“Since our parents made it legal, I’m your brother in all the ways that count.”
She placed the items back inside the chest, then shut it. “I don’t know what I would have done if it hadn’t been for you.”
“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out.”
Beneath Copper Falls Page 5