Stormcatcher

by Colleen Rhoads

  The yearning expression in his eyes made her eyes prick with moisture. “Maybe,” she said softly as they headed for the water.

  By the time the day had ended, they’d found enough artifacts to convince the most skeptical scientist of the validity of their find. The storm that had shifted the sediment on the bottom had tossed up so much loot she couldn’t believe it. Wynne nearly vibrated with excitement. She knew they had to keep it secret for now, but she longed to tell the world about the discovery.

  But it was Simon’s baby. It had been his vision, his commitment that had brought them to this place. His drive and determination. Once she’d thought him a little obsessed, and now she realized it had been conviction and not obsession.

  The rest of the crew walked slowly off toward the parking lot, their steps dragging from the hard day’s work. Wynne knew she should feel just as exhausted, but she was too wired to feel it.

  Her stomach rumbled. “I heard that,” Simon said. “I’ve got an idea.” He opened the truck door for her then shut it behind her and pulled out his cell phone. She saw him talking as he walked around to his side of the vehicle.

  “What was that all about?”

  “You’ll see.” His smile was smug. “You deserve something nicer than Bob’s Eats tonight.”

  “Surely you jest,” she said in mock horror. “What could be better than greasy hamburgers?”

  “How about lobster with garlic, mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables that are still at the edge of crispness. And follow it all up with a chocolate dessert that I can’t even describe.”

  Her mouth dropped. “And just where are we going to find a meal like that on Eagle Island? Unless you got down and kissed our housekeeper’s feet. Moxie might be able to whip up something like that. The chocolate dessert anyway.”

  “Beep, wrong answer.” His grin widened as he turned onto the drive that led to the grassy airfield.

  She lifted her brows as he stopped at the hangar. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re flying into Marquette for dinner. There’s a wonderful seafood restaurant on the water.”

  “But look at me,” she protested. “I’m in wet jeans, my hair looks like Medusa’s, and I don’t have a stitch of makeup left.”

  “You look beautiful to me,” he said, his glance sliding sideways to linger on her face.

  Heat traveled up her neck to her cheeks. “I can’t go like this, Simon. I’ll be the laughingstock of the town.”

  “Let me make one more call.” He turned away and dialed his cell phone again.

  She tried to listen, but the wind snatched his soft words away. It was sweet of him to want to treat her, but she would be mortified to go into a restaurant looking like this. She glanced at her watch. It was only five o’clock. Maybe he’d give her an hour to run home and get cleaned up.

  He dropped his phone back into his pocket as a beat-up truck pulled up to the hangar. “There’s our pilot.”

  “I’ve got to go home and get changed,” she said firmly.

  “It’s all taken care of at the other end,” he said. His fingers touched her elbow and guided her toward the runway.

  She assumed they were headed for the small plane at the end of the runway, but instead Simon turned toward a helicopter to the right. “You’re kidding, right?” She’d always wanted to ride in a helicopter.

  “Nope.” He helped her aboard.

  She settled into the seat. “Simon, I need to change,” she wailed.

  “I told you—it’s all taken care of. Let me spend a little of my money in celebration. This is a big day—the biggest of my life so far.”

  “I thought the sheriff told you not to leave the island.”

  “He’ll never know. Besides, I think he’s figuring out that I’m not a murderer.”

  The “bird” took off, and they landed in Marquette less than thirty minutes later. Wynne was fascinated by the ride and the sound of the whup-whup of the rotors. The pilot ducked out of the helicopter and came around to open the door.

  Simon helped her out and led her toward a coach limousine. Wynne felt she was in some kind of dream. Or nightmare might be closer to how she felt. She thought the limo driver was sneering as he opened the door.

  “Go ahead, we’ll wait out here while you change,” Simon said.

  “What?” Wynne nearly shrieked the words. She peeked into the coach.

  “There’s a shower in the bathroom. I called Becca and she said you wore a size two. There are three dresses to choose from and shoes in your size in the bathroom along with makeup.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’m not sure the colors are right but you can try them.”

  “I can’t believe this.” She glared at him. “I warned you not to use the famous Lassiter charm on me.” She folded her arms across her chest and willed herself not to cry. If he was expecting her to fall at his feet in admiration, he was going to wait a long time.

  He scowled. “I know my money doesn’t impress you, Wynne. But don’t spoil my fun tonight. We had a great coup today. We can’t announce it to the world yet, but we can celebrate. I couldn’t have done it without you. Let me spoil you just a little.”

  She felt a stab of guilt. Maybe she had overreacted. There had been so much talk of how Amanda had been interested in his money, and she didn’t want to be lumped into the same category with Simon’s ex-fiancée. “Okay,” she said after a long pause. “But don’t try to turn my head after tonight.”

  “I’m not trying to do that.” Simon’s fingers touched her chin. “I want to thank you. Is that so wrong?”

  Maybe not, but the touch of his fingers on her face was affecting her breathing. “I’ll get changed,” she said abruptly.

  All she could do was pray for God to help her keep her heart intact. She bolted for the coach limo and slammed the door behind her. The bathroom had every luxury. She quickly ducked under the showerhead. Drying her hair with the hair dryer that was mounted on the wall, she wrapped it in an elegant French twist.

  She opened the closet door and found three dresses hanging on the rod. The price tags had been removed, foiling her original plan to choose the cheapest one. Touching the fabric of each, she knew no expense had been spared on the dresses. Black shoes in a size four sat on the floor.

  The red dress caught her eye. It had a boatneck collar and shimmered with a subtle shine. She slipped it over her head and turned to examine herself in the full-length mirror. She nearly didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her.

  Perfect. It clung in all the right places and turned at the knee in a becoming flip. She thrust her feet into the shoes and went out to meet Simon.

  Her heart pounded as she opened the door to the outside. Would he think she looked nice? Her palms were sweaty. She took a deep breath and stepped down to the grass.

  Simon turned to meet her. His mouth dropped, and he looked dazed. “W-Wynne?” he stammered.

  “I love the dress, Simon. Thank you,” she said, nearly breathless from the look on his face.

  He stepped forward and touched her cheek. “All I can say is wow,” he said softly. “Am I forgiven yet?”

  “I’ll think about it,” she said as he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “As long as you feed me lobster.”

  He escorted her back into the coach limo and sat her on the overstuffed leather sofa. “Something to drink?” he asked, turning toward the fully equipped bar.

  “Sparkling water?”

  “Got some right here.” He poured it over ice and handed it to her, then grabbed a soda for himself before joining her on the sofa.

  She wanted to press the cold glass against her hot face. Never had she been so aware of a man. She realized she was falling for him quite hopelessly. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man—kind, strong, caring and, most importantly, a Christian. But his wealth bothered her. And she didn’t want to give up her dreams of fame in her field. She’d have to travel to do it.

  She sat stiffly, then Simon slipped his arm acr
oss the back of the sofa. She sagged against him as his bulk shifted her weight. She started to pull away, but his embrace pulled her against his side.

  He dropped a kiss onto her head. “I like how you smell.”

  His breath stirred her hair, and her skin tingled where the warmth lingered. It was all she could do not to turn and wrap her arms around his neck. She curled her fingers into her palms and prayed for strength.

  His fingers ran along the curve of her jaw and lingered at her earlobe. She shivered, a delicious sensation that stretched to her toes. His fingers trailed down to her chin and tilted her face up to meet his. When his lips found hers, she sank into his embrace.

  Her heart hammered against her ribs and drowned out the warnings her mind tried to throw out.

  She loved Simon. It was too late. She was lost—in over her head. And if the emotion in his kiss was any indication, he felt the same way.

  He raised his head and smiled shakily as the coach stopped. Neon lights from the restaurant shone through the windows. “Let’s go to dinner before I forget why we came.”

  “Good idea,” she quavered.

  He stood and helped her to her feet. His hand at her waist felt like the softest touch of velvet, yet she knew he was tough and strong and protective.

  All through dinner they stared into one another’s eyes, and neither had much to say. Wynne knew the ground had shifted under her feet, and she could only hope Simon felt the same way.

  NINETEEN

  The house was dark when Simon got out of the truck. In his imagination, he saw Wynne waiting for him at home, then he dismissed the thought. Amanda had wanted this house, not him. He couldn’t bring Wynne to a place another woman designed.

  What was he thinking? He’d known Wynne Baxter for less than a month. How could he be thinking of marriage already? But he was. He’d recognized something in her that spoke to his soul in a way he’d never experienced. She completed him. He’d never thought of something like that. Always before, he’d analyzed the pros and cons of a woman as with a merger. Assets and liabilities, that’s what he knew best. This wild emotion that made his palms go sweaty was outside his experience.

  He suddenly became aware of a movement to his left and jerked around to meet the danger. His fists dropped when he recognized Sheriff Mitch Rooney. “That’s a good way to get clobbered, Rooney,” he said. “Especially with everything that’s been going on lately.”

  “We raised the yacht today,” Rooney said, his voice deadpan and even.

  “I thought you were going to have Wynne help you.”

  “We managed without her.”

  Rooney was acting weird, Simon thought. His hands dangled at his side as though he was too tired to raise them.

  “Find anything?”

  “Yeah.” Rooney took a step closer. “A big hole blown in the underside.”

  Simon’s attention sharpened. “Not caused by the shipwreck?”

  “No, it was caused by an explosion from the inside. Murder.” Rooney seemed to shake himself. “I think it’s time you told me about the argument with Amanda.”

  “I told you it doesn’t have anything to do with this case.” Simon wanted to stride past the sheriff and gain the safety of the house. He stood his ground.

  “That won’t fly anymore, Simon. If I don’t get a satisfactory answer, I’m going to have to haul you in for questioning. The judge won’t want to be disturbed at this hour, so if you don’t want to spend the night in jail, I suggest you start talking. And know I’m going to take your secretary in for questioning, too. You might as well tell me before she does.”

  He held out his hands. “Looks like you’ll have to take me downtown then.” The clink of the handcuffs startled him, then the sheriff shoved him toward the squad car.

  The moss and leaves under her feet seemed alive as Wynne strode through the forest. Blue spruce and hemlock snatched at her clothing as she followed the path to the folly. She’d forgotten all about this place until Becca had mentioned it last night. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her when she woke at daybreak, and she’d slipped out while everyone slept.

  She needed to think. About Simon and her career—her entire future. It had once seemed so certain. Now she didn’t know if she was right side up or upside down. She followed the twisting path toward the meadow.

  Dawn had quickly yielded to the hot morning sunshine. She stepped from the shelter of the trees into the clearing and surveyed the ruins. The folly had been a favorite place for her and Becca to play when they were small. It was even more decrepit now. And unsafe. She’d best not investigate now, though it was fun to see it again.

  She turned to go back to the house and almost knocked down an Ojibwa woman. About sixty, the woman’s hair was still black and silky with faint wings of white at the temple. Dressed in a calico skirt and red peasant blouse, the buckskin vest she wore over her outfit was stained with berries and other juices Wynne couldn’t identify.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you.” Wynne took a step back.

  The woman didn’t smile or acknowledge Wynne’s apology. Her black eyes bored into Wynne’s.

  Wynne began to feel a sense of unease at the intensity of the woman’s gaze. A crow gave a hoarse caw from the top of a sycamore tree, and the harshness raised the hair on the back of Wynne’s neck.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  The woman took a step closer. “No good will come of disturbing the dead.”

  Wynne assumed the woman was talking about Jerry and Amanda. “You need to talk to the sheriff about that. I have nothing to do with it.”

  “The white men who came to these waters long ago were representatives of the Thunderbird. Let them rest in peace. You have no right to disturb their rest.”

  Wynne realized the woman somehow knew they’d found the remains of the Viking ship. “Who told you about the Viking ship?”

  The woman’s intent stare never wavered. “The Thunderbird will carry you off to feed her young if you continue to disturb the remains. This will be your only warning. Stop before it’s too late.” The woman turned and disappeared into the woods before Wynne could form an answer.

  Wynne stared after her. She wished people could understand how important archaeological discovery was. Everywhere she went, people objected for some reason or another. This was no different.

  In spite of telling herself these were the same objections she’d encountered countless times before, a chill raced down her spine. There had been so much menace in the matter-of-fact way the woman had uttered her warning. Ridiculous.

  She refused to allow the woman’s ramblings to disturb this time alone. A large rock sat in the sunshine, and she settled herself on it. “God, what am I supposed to do?”

  She wished He’d give her a sign, some indication of what path to follow. If she followed her heart, she’d give up her dream. If she followed her dream, her heart would be broken. It was a no-win situation. Only God could figure it out. After fifteen minutes, she decided He wasn’t speaking.

  Wynne rose and hurried back the way she’d come. Maybe Max or Becca would have some idea of who the woman was she’d run into. She burst out of the trees and into the backyard of Windigo Manor. She barreled into Max’s chest.

  He gripped her by the shoulders and steadied her. “Whoa, where’s the fire?”

  “Sorry,” she panted. “There was a woman back there.” Aware she was babbling, she stopped and took a deep, calming breath. “Someone knows we’ve found the Viking boat.” She quickly told him what the Ojibwa woman had said.

  “This isn’t good. If she knows, the word will get out. If everyone knows, Mike Wilson will likely show up next, and we’ll have a fight on our hands.”

  “We’d better get out to the site right away,” Wynne agreed. “Let me change into my suit. You call Simon.” She rushed upstairs and changed into her swimsuit, then pulled shorts and a tank top over it.

  As she stepped into the living room, her gaze wandered to the TV where the an
chorman was giving the weather forecast. She listened, her frown deepening. She and Becca looked at one another.

  “The big storm will be here in two days,” Becca said.

  “We have to work fast,” she agreed. “The storm could bury the remains too deep to retrieve. The woman said the Thunderbird didn’t like it. With this storm blowing in, she would say the Thunderbird was determined to thwart our efforts.”

  Becca looked confused. “What woman?”

  Wynne told her about the Ojibwa woman. A name on the television caught their attention. She turned and listened then looked at her sister. “Simon’s been arrested?” she said in shock. “But how can that be?”

  “You’d better get to the jail,” Becca said. “Max will take you. I’ll get him.” She rushed from the room and left Wynne staring at the television.

  Max burst into the room followed by Becca and Gram. Gram was wringing her hands. “We have to do something, Max. We know Simon is no murderer.”

  “I know, Gram. We’ll get him out,” he said grimly. “Will you watch the kids? I think Wynne might like Becca along.”

  “Of course,” Gram said. She took the baby from Becca.

  Wynne followed Max and Becca to his truck. She stared out the window as Max barreled down the road to town. What possible evidence could the sheriff have that would have caused him to arrest Simon? Could she have been wrong about Simon?”

  “I see that look on your face,” Becca said. “Don’t go there. Simon isn’t guilty. Have a little faith in him, Wynne. I think you love him. I’ve seen it in your eyes the last few days. But love is nothing without trust. This is one of those times you have to step out on faith.”

  “I’m trying,” she said weakly. “How do I get past my doubts?”

  “I think you have to listen, Wynne. Trust the Spirit of God who reveals truth to you. I think sometimes you run things over too much in your mind without asking for God to reveal truth to your heart. Listen for a change and stop the inner dialogue.”