“Yeah right, George. Thanks for backing me up. I’ll see ya. You want to go fishin’ tonight?”
“When and where? I’ll be there.”
“I’ll stop by your house after dinner… around seven.” Jonathan pushed away and started up the hill across the bridge over the channel.
“You behave yourself now, Jonathan McKendry,” he heard his friend calling out as he rode away.
A few minutes later, he parked his bike in a small shaded pull-off in the woods leading up to the sand dunes and the beach. He started up the narrow path toward the lake. Shadows from the heavy tree cover dappled the sand path and low brush scratched at his legs. The burning and pain from his crash had subsided and he was thinking now of Catherine, the confrontation pushed to the back of his mind.
Catherine was really the first girl he had ever fallen for. They had played together occasionally as younger children when he had been over at George’s house. It had been just a couple of years ago that he had started seeing her in a new way. She had been the first to start taking more interest in him. First, they went to a few movies together and then a dance at school. Soon, it was a steady thing.
Jonathan wasn’t sure what love was supposed to feel like, but he knew this felt pretty intense. He found himself thinking about Catherine often at night when he was lying awake in bed, fantasies of youth spinning through his head. They had begun to get more intimate with each other lately and Catherine was always playful and eager when they kissed, or lay together on the beach.
At times, he found himself thinking about being with Catherine forever, as his wife and having children and a life together with her. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. She was sixteen, a year younger than he and her brother George. She was a bright girl and Jonathan often asked her to help with his school work. She had the Hansen complexion, smooth skin that tanned quickly and freckles under her eyes and across the bridge of her sunburned nose. Her blonde hair was long, almost half way down her back. She had an easy way with people and had a lot of friends.
But recently, thoughts about Emily Compton kept creeping into his mind. He was usually able to push those thoughts aside and chastise himself for being an ignorant kid who should get his head screwed on straight. He would tell himself there couldn’t be any harm in just thinking about the girl, what it would be like to be with her and to be part of the life she led.
The path widened as he reached the low dunes. The sun was hot and the sand burned at his bare feet. He walked more quickly. There were large cumulus clouds drifting overhead, bright masses moving slowly with the breeze across the summer sky. He heard the shore waves crashing up ahead. He reached the top of the dunes and saw the vast panorama of Lake Michigan spread out before him. Well down to his left were the pier and the channel into Round Lake. Off to his right was the slow curve of North Point with large rocks breaking the water well out into the lake.
Catherine was sitting on a towel down by the water with her back to him, looking out over the water. A small picnic basket sat beside her. She had her new black swimming suit on, he noticed. Jonathan walked up quietly behind her, taking his shirt off as he approached. When he got within range, he threw his shirt and caught her in the back with it.
She turned and gave him a disapproving scowl, then jumped up and ran over to him. She jumped into his arms and hugged him close to her and then she pulled back and looked into his eyes and kissed him.
He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her lips and the closeness of her body. He could feel the press of her breasts against him. He felt himself getting a bit too excited and he pushed her away gently in embarrassment and took her by the hand over to the towel and they sat down together.
She noticed his wounds. “What in the world have you done to yourself now?” she asked.
“I’m fine. I dumped my bike on the way over and got scraped up a little. I’ll be fine.”
She touched the wound on his left knee. He thought again about the run-in with the summer boy. He knew it was just a matter of time until he would face him again.
Emily Compton sat on the front veranda of their house in a white wicker chair. Next to her sat her friend, Louise Kelly. Louise and the Kelly family were from Chicago and in the summer, they lived across the channel, over on the other side of Round Lake. Emily and Louise had become friends as little girls and spent most of their free time together. They had just attended church together with the rest of the Compton family. When they came back to the Compton home, they asked the cook, Ellie, for some lemonade. They sat now on the veranda, enjoying the cool beverage and sharing stories.
“You and Connor were getting quite friendly the other night at the party on the EmmaLee,” Louise said, trying to get her friend to divulge more about her relationship with the handsome Mr. Harris.
Emily blushed with embarrassment and took a sip of the cool lemonade to think about her reply. She swallowed and looked at her friend. “What do you really think of Connor?” she asked. “He can be so nice and charming, then the next minute this dark cloud will come over him, then be gone again in an instant.”
“He’s got a little of a wild side, I hear,” Louise answered. “I think that makes him all the more intriguing.”
“Oh, he is definitely intriguing,” Emily said.
“Has he tried to kiss you?” Louise asked.
Emily laughed and said, “Now if I tell you, I’ll be reading about it in the Charlevoix paper next week.”
“Oh, come on,” Louise pleaded. “We always share.”
“Connor took me for a ride last week in his new car. We went out to the turnaround at North Point and watched the sunset.” She paused.
“Go on. What did he try?” Louise asked with growing excitement.
Emily looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was close enough to hear their conversation.
“It was a beautiful sunset,” she teased.
“Are you going to tell me, or not?” Louise asked.
“Well, by the time we got our clothes back on…”
Louise jumped out her chair. “Emily, what did you do?”
“I’m kidding, Louise. Nothing happened. He put his arm around me. We watched the sun go down.”
“What about when he dropped you off?”
“He walked me up here on the porch and…”
“He kissed you, goodnight, ” Louise said, finishing her friend’s sentence.
“Yes, he kissed me goodnight.”
Louise was obviously enjoying these revelations. “I’ll bet he can really kiss?”
“He’s not bad at it,” Emily said with a giggle.
She saw her father coming out of the front door. She pushed Louise back down into her chair.
Stewart Compton was just past sixty years old. His hair had gone mostly gray and he had been putting on weight steadily for the past twenty years. Still dressed in his suit from church, he moved with the calm confidence of a man of accomplishment and high status.
“What are you girls up to?” he asked.
Louise tried to hide a nervous laugh. Emily answered, “Just discussing the pastor’s message, Daddy.”
The elder Compton laughed. “Oh, I’m sure that’s the case. Hey, I’m having the crew get the EmmaLee ready for a cruise this afternoon. How would you two like to come along? We’re going to head out to Beaver Island, do a little fishing, go swimming and have some dinner.”
“Absolutely,” said Emily. “Can you go?” she asked her friend.
“Let me call my mother.”
Emily’s father headed back into the house, then turned and said, “Get some clothes together and a bathing suit. We’ll be leaving right after lunch. Why don’t you two come in and we’ll have Ellie throw a quick bite together before we go.” He disappeared through the front door.
The girls got up to prepare for the trip. They grabbed their glasses and pushed the chairs back to their proper position.
“Has Connor let you know if he’s going to school this fall in Ann
Arbor with you, yet?” Louise asked.
“He’s been accepted at Northwestern, but he’s talking about taking a year off and traveling before he starts school.”
“That’s probably just as well,” Louise answered. “I’ve heard there are some awfully nice boys down there in Ann Arbor.”
Emily pulled her friend toward to the front door. “Do you ever think of anything else? Let’s go call your mother.”
Jonathan and Catherine were eating sandwiches and other food she had brought. It was spread out before them on towels, along with two bottles of Coca-Cola. The breeze had picked up and was now blowing strongly in their face, coming off the lake. The waves had grown and were crashing loudly on the shore. Occasionally, one large wave would crash up high enough to touch their feet. It was close to 3 o’clock and the sun was falling lower off to the southwest.
Jonathan felt the sun burning his forehead and shoulders, but he didn’t care. He rested back on his elbows and closed his eyes, savoring his Sunday and the time with Catherine. He reached over and laid an arm across her stomach. He moved closer so he could kiss her. She moved into him and they shared a long kiss and embrace.
He tried to move closer and knocked over his drink. They both sat up quickly trying to recover the spilled beverage and keep it from getting all over everything.
“Good timing, McKendry,” she scolded.
Jonathan was helping to clean up the mess when he noticed a large ship coming out through the channel, well down the beach at the pier. He knew at once it was the EmmaLee. The main bridge cabin towered over the top of the pier. Its brilliant white color was set-off in stark contrast to the old gray Lifesaving Station and green tree-covered hills up behind the channel.
Catherine looked to see what had caught her boyfriend’s attention. “Is that the Compton’s boat?” she asked.
Jonathan nodded.
“I’ve heard Mr. Compton has more money than the Rockefellers,” she said, taking Jonathan’s hand in hers.
“I imagine they have enough to get by,” Jonathan said.
The ship made its way out of the channel and they could now see the full length of the hull and its magnificent lines.
“They will never build another ship more beautiful,” Jonathan said in a slow whisper-like voice.
“You are absolutely impossible! Here I am with you on the beach, lying in your arms and you’re more fascinated by an old boat.”
“I’ll bet they’re heading out to Beaver Island from the course they’re taking.”
“Jonathan!”
“What?”
“Forget the boat.”
“Let’s just watch her for a minute.”
Catherine rolled over on her stomach, showing her disgust with her boyfriend’s distraction.
“They say she has ten cabins.”
“Ohmigod!” Catherine wailed. “I don’t care how many cabins, or anything else. Would you come over here?” She turned back over invitingly.
Jonathan looked away from the boat and down at Catherine. She held her arms up for him. He responded finally and moved over to her, even though he was thinking about the EmmaLee. He tried to imagine how many people were onboard and where they were headed. He thought about the captain up on the bridge guiding her through the heavy seas, cutting the big waves easily with the ship’s sleek hull. He tried to keep his mind from drifting to thoughts of the Compton girl.
Yes, they were heading out to Beaver Island.
The captain and crew of the EmmaLee had pulled into Paradise Bay on the northeast side of the island. It was well protected from the heavy wind and waves on this summer afternoon and the big ship rested calmly in the quiet bay.
Beaver Island had been the home of James Jesse Strang who had declared himself King of Beaver Island. Traveling with a group of Mormons in the 1840’s, he had explored the remote island up in the northern reaches of Lake Michigan. The island had seemed a perfect refuge for his band, sitting twenty miles offshore of what was then the early settlement of Charlevoix. He found it to his liking and settled there and soon attracted a large following from the Church of Latter-day Saints. Many Mormons were attracted to the area and lived a strained existence with the “gentiles” who were also trying to settle the land around Charlevoix at that time.
Strang’s controversial reign was abruptly ended when he was assassinated under mysterious circumstances in 1856. The Mormon colony slowly dissolved after his passing and the island now supported a small population of hearty souls and crowds of visitors coming over by ferry and other boats during the summer months.
Emily and Louise stood at the opening in the rail along the starboard side of the boat. They had changed into swimming suits and were trying to muster the courage to jump down into the cool waters of the bay. Emily’s two brothers were already in, splashing and yelling for the girls to join them.
Except for a few local boats tied up at the docks at the end of the inlet, the EmmaLee was the only boat moored out in the bay. She sat motionless in the calm waters with anchor lines securing her. Emily noticed movement and scanned the barren shore. A family of raccoons scampered along the shoreline, a mother and three babies. They paid no attention to the big ship, or the commotion coming from the lake. She watched them scurry over to a fish washed up on the sand. They settled in to make their meal. Overhead, a large brown hawk soared effortlessly, testing the currents and looking below for signs of its next prey.
Emily had always loved these adventures to remote islands on the big ship. She was glad Louise was able to come. Her father and mother came up behind them. They had put on swimming suits and were ready for a refreshing leap into the cool waters.
“Okay girls, let’s not jam up the diving platform here,” said Emily’s father.
“Daddy, it’s just too cold. I know it’s just, too cold,” answered Emily, smiling at her friend.
Stuart Compton put his arm around his daughter’s shoulder, then picked her up suddenly under her legs. Emily squealed in surprise and the next thing she knew, she was flying through the air in her father’s arms, the cold green surface of the lake coming rapidly up to greet them. The shock of the water’s bracing chill and the huge explosion of water from her father’s weight took her breath away. He released her and she felt herself being pulled back to the surface slowly from the air in her lungs. The world was quiet and cold and she watched her air bubbles floating to the surface beside her. She could see the sun above, a muted bright yellow ball of fire on the riffled surface. She burst through, gasping for air, just as her friend landed beside her, sending water in all directions. Her father then came up as well and shook his head, spraying water on her from his hair.
“Daddy, I can’t believe you did that! You’re terrible!”
He laughed and swam over toward his sons. Emily noticed her mother was still up above them at the rail. Her skin was a pale white against the dark royal blue of her suit. She had a white bathing cap on to protect her hair.
“Come on mother, it’s wonderful,” Emily invited.
Her mother seemed to hesitate, then took two steps backward, out of sight from the girls down below. Then they heard a scream and watched as her mother ran and leaped out from the side of the boat. Her arms flapped wildly and she continued to scream until she was swallowed up by the water. She came up moments later, gasping at the cold water twinkling around her pale blue eyes.
Emily swam over to her and gave her a hug. “That was the most beautiful dive, mother.”
“A picture of grace, I’m sure,” her mother answered.
A crew member threw boat cushions over the side for them to float on. Each of the women reached for one and propped themselves up comfortably, bobbing on the surface. Her father swam back over and pulled two cushions under his large frame.
“Emily, I was just telling the boys I think we need to get a new runabout for you. You’re old enough now to have your own boat,” the elder Compton said, slicking his sparse hair back with a free hand.
&
nbsp; “What kind of boat, Daddy?” Emily asked with growing excitement.
“Oh, I think a nice inboard, twenty-five or so feet would be plenty of boat for you. We’ll stop over at the boatyard tomorrow and see what they have available.”
Emily swam over and gave her father a kiss on the cheek.
Later, they had dressed and took a small launch over to a remote beach in the inlet. The staff had arrived earlier and had set up for dinner of fried whitefish over a big roaring beach fire. A table and chairs had been set up with linens and china. The chef poured wine for the adults and the children drank iced tea and helped with the fire.
The Compton family dined together with their guest, the young Miss Kelly, looking out over Paradise Bay and the beauty of Beaver Island and the EmmaLee, just offshore. Music was played just loudly enough on the ship that it provided a soothing backdrop for the meal on the beach. A full moon showed faintly on the horizon in the early evening light. The mosquitoes seemed more interested in the big fire than in the diners. Servants hovered nearby, filling glasses and serving more food.
Emily could hear conversation all around her, but she was lost in thought, thinking about her new boat.
Chapter Seven
Sally woke with a start. She had been dreaming and something had unsettled her. She looked around the bedroom and saw it was a little past six o’clock on the alarm beside her bed. Daylight was just beginning to make its way through the house and the large bedroom that looked out on the back lawn and to the lake. There were sulking gray clouds moving quickly across the sky, tinged reddish orange from the rising sun. She saw Gwen was still asleep beside her.
She tried to remember her dream and, as with most dreams, she was having trouble connecting the random memories of it. Parts of the dream would start to come back to her, then her mind would throw up a gray wall and the fragment would slip away. Then, she remembered she had been on a beach and she was trying to catch up with someone.
The Seasons of the EmmaLee: One grand ship. Two love affairs, decades apart. An idyllic summer resort town torn apart by betrayal, murder and shattered dreams. (The Charlevoix Summer Series Book 1) Page 7