Family in His Heart (2 page)

“No family. I knew the Baileys who live in Hessel. It was years ago, when I was a kid, and I always had good memories of the Les Cheneaux area.”

“When you were a kid?”

He studied her as if wondering why it had taken her so long to return to the area. At thirty-nine, she was far from a kid.

His jaw twitched as his eyebrows raised. “You mean Sam and Shirley Bailey?”

She nodded.

“Sam died last year, but Shirley’s still in the same place.”

Sam died. She remembered the friendly man who had been Janie’s grandfather.

“You’re only just visitin’ then.”

Now Rona shuffled her feet as uncertainty winged its way into her thoughts, but she’d made a life change and she would honor her plans. “I’m staying.”

“You did a good job today pinch-hittin’ like that.” He shuffled his feet again. “Lookin’ for work?”

His question raised her spirits. She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Actually, yes, but—”

“I’d like you to stay on. You worked hard and I respect that.” He smiled a toothy grin. “Plus, you surprised me making that offer to help and I surprised myself by accepting it. I don’t know you from Adam.”

She couldn’t help but grin back. “I saw you were in a bind.”

“I can give you six dollars an hour plus your tips,” he said, shifting closer and keeping his volume just above a whisper. “I know that’s not a fortune, but we have good tippers around here. For good service, that is.”

She pictured Nick’s five dollar tip. Six dollars an hour. Good tips. She remembered working for two-seventy-five plus tips. Rona did a quick calculation. Not a bad wage until she found something better. “I can give it a try.” She paused knowing she had to be honest. “But if something better comes along, I make no guarantees.”

He pondered her comment, probably knowing that not much else was available around the area. “You got yourself a deal.” He stuck out his hand and gave hers a shake.

Bernie held up a finger. “I’ll get you an application.” He strode into the storage room and out again with the forms. “You can sit at a table and fill these out and, while you’re at it, grab a bite to eat. I imagine you’re hungry.” He handed her the papers.

Sit at a table.
So much for her back-door escape, and by now she didn’t want to. She was hungry and a free meal sounded good. She ordered a whitefish sandwich—Nick’s had looked good earlier in the day—then poured herself a cup of coffee and headed into the dining room.

Her gaze drifted to Nick, who had once again focused on the newspaper, sipping a cup of coffee that Mandy must have brought to him. He was leaning his shoulder against the wall and she guessed he was waiting for her. She still hadn’t figured out the reason he wanted to talk to her. She eyed him, then decided she might as well get it over with.

Rona bit her lips, knowing she was lying to herself. Getting it over with had nothing to do with her motivation. The man had captured her interest. Still she didn’t want the guy to get the wrong idea.

Grasping the application and her coffee mug, she ambled to his table vacillating between interest and indecision. “Sorry.” She waved the forms toward him and motioned to an empty seat. “Bernie asked me to fill out these forms so I’ll sit—”

“You can fill them out here.” He patted the space across from him. “I don’t bite.”

Her old uneasiness soared into her chest. He said he didn’t bite, but she was too gullible. Even her own brother had conned her into making a decision she lived to regret. She knew her brother, but what did she know about Nick? Wavering with indecision, Rona could feel the stress in her face.

“Please,” he said, his tone warm and genial.

She slid her cup onto the table and placed the application farther away, fearing she would stain them with her coffee. Her hands felt unsteady as she settled onto the chair.

“Fish sandwich’s ready.”

Hearing the voice, she turned and saw Bernie slide her dinner under the warmer. She halted Nick with her index finger and hurried to the serving window for her sandwich.

When she’d settled back on the chair, Nick gave the bun a coy grin. “Looks familiar.”

His lighthearted tone brightened her spirit. “You had one earlier, I know. It looked good.”

“It was.” He gazed at her and she felt heat rise up her neck. Get a grip, she told herself, embarrassed that she’d allowed this stranger to wheedle his way into her life. She’d been duped before and though he said he wasn’t thinking anything, how could she trust him? Maybe he was trying to pick her up. What kind of woman did he think she was? She’d always been too trusting, too unsuspecting, and it was time to change. She steadied herself and peered into his eyes. “I don’t understand why you want to talk with me.”

“I don’t, either,” he said, the same crooked grin spreading to his lips. “I’m curious, I guess.”

“Curious?” His words skittered up her spine. “About what?”

“About you. What made you volunteer to wait tables? I’ve seen waitresses blow their corks and dart off, but I’ve never seen a customer stand up and take over.”

“I’ve worked as a waitress.” She felt the heat in her cheeks deepen. “Are you telling me you came back here because you were curious?”

His gaze drifted out the window, then back to her. “My son has track practice and I’m waiting for him.”

Son.
Then he was married. Embarrassed at her presumption, she lowered her eyes to his left hand. No ring. Did lumberjacks wear rings?

“You’re a good dad to pick up your son from school.”

Nick’s mouth twisted.

She’d never had her dad pick her up from anywhere, but then she’d been grateful he didn’t. So often he was drunk.

“He doesn’t have his runabout today and we live on the island.” He tilted his head toward the window.

She followed his nod toward the island across the lake, filled with lovely houses bordered by acres of thickly wooded land. Privacy. Elegance.

“I was at a contractor’s meeting in town and it was convenient.” He gazed out the window toward the water and the look on his face made her wonder.

Convenient? She sensed he was dismissing her “good father” comment. “It’s still nice.” Rona pulled her gaze from the window back to him, her memory drifting back to an earlier comment. “You had a contractor’s meeting. Then, you’re in construction?”

He fingered his coffee mug. “Yes, and I own a resort on Drummond Island, up the road a few miles.”

Construction, owns a resort—the man had to be wealthy. Her earlier lumberjack image vanished and she winced at her simplistic perception.

Her focus lowered to the table and the job application. For some reason she felt guilty. “I guessed you for a lumberjack.”

He chuckled. “No, but my family once owned a logging company years ago.” He offered her his hand. “My name’s Nick Thornton.”

Thornton.
She felt another grin settle on her face. So much for Bunyan. She grasped his fingers. “I’m Rona Meyers.”

He studied her face while she waited for him to say something. Anything.

Finally he gestured to the forms she’d pushed against the wall. “Job application?” His expression had changed so quickly to a frown.

She studied him without responding. His smile didn’t return. “I need a job and Bernie offered. I figured I’d take it until something else comes along.”

He drew back, his scowl deepening.

The look threw her. What did he care? “I was honest with Bernie. I told him no guarantee. He still offered me work as long as I want. I don’t suppose I’ll find much else in a small town like this, anyway.”

He shifted her application form with his index finger. “There’s work if you know where to look.”

She studied his face, waiting for him to continue.

Silence fell between them again until she felt forced to speak. “Where should I look?”

“At me.”

“At you?” She enjoyed looking at him. He had a great smile, good looks and a playful personality—if she felt like playing games, which she didn’t right now. “What does that mean?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s too late. You’ve found your own job.” He lifted a newspaper from the chair beside him and slid it on the table, glanced at his watch and rose. “Gary’s probably waiting. I’d better get.”

He dropped two dollars on the table and took a step away before pivoting to face her again. “Nice to meet you, Rona,” he said, walking backward.

She watched him swing through the front door and felt very alone. He appeared outside the window, crossed the street and headed along the sidewalk beside the marina. Then he vanished from her sight.

The application lay beside her hand, and she eyed it while her mind soared back to her situation in Eastpointe when she’d been so naive. She’d had a number of bad relationships and now, with maturity, she was trying to decipher why she’d had such poor judgment. She trusted people too easily—that had been her discovery. The memory edged against her heart and the loneliness grew. She’d come here, knowing no one, really. Shirley Bailey probably wouldn’t remember her.

Her coffee had cooled, but she took a last drink, trying to focus on her new life here in Les Cheneaux area—in Hessel. When the desolate feeling passed, she shifted her attention from the application to the newspaper.

Drawing it closer, she turned it to face her. Odd. Nick had left it open to employment ads. She skimmed the list until she spotted Nick’s name. Her pulse tripped as she read the ad.

Transportation provided? With no bridge or ferry, that made sense. She studied his telephone number while her heart sank. Room and board. Good pay and an island. She’d be safer there.

But she didn’t know Nick Thornton. Could she trust him? She’d be alone on an island with a man she didn’t know. She rubbed her temples, then grinned. Could she trust herself?

N
ick pulled alongside the high school and watched the building. He liked to be on time. Gary had little patience and he tried not to stir up any more animosity than was necessary.

Kids were like that. They hated their parents once they reached their teens. Nick often wished he could ship Gary away to a farm and then bring him back when he’d become an adult and learned civility, patience and hopefully some love.

Fighting his son to live his Christian morals and values had gone by the wayside. Lately, Nick struggled to communicate about anything with Gary. He wondered if his wife hadn’t died would Gary be different? Jill. Her image flashed through his mind along with guilt-laden memories. He stifled the vision before it got hold of him again.

The May sun beat against the window and Nick rolled down the pane to let the breeze drift in. The earth smelled pungent as if the winter’s debris had revitalized the soil, making everything ready to grow. How often had he wished he could be revitalized that simply.

Revitalized. He pictured Rona, the woman at the restaurant. Now that was energy. She darted from one station to the next, pouring coffee, bussing tables and taking orders without a hitch—a bundle of the cutest energy he’d ever seen.

He could see her straight honey-colored hair bouncing against her shoulders, the sweep of the wave that tucked beneath her chin when she tilted her head. And those eyes, as gray as a stormy sky but with a hint of sunshine behind the clouds.

Nick snorted at his flowery rumination. What was he doing thinking of a stranger at the Harbor Inn? He needed a woman muddling his mind like he needed another belligerent son in his life. What he really needed was a housekeeper. Had he known she was looking for work he’d have told her about the job right away, stranger or not. He was desperate.

A breeze drifted in, bringing the scent of freshly mowed grass. He turned toward the school again and saw Gary meandering around the back of the building, his arm wrapped around a girl encased in the tightest jeans Nick had ever seen and a knit top that exposed more than it covered.

He shook his head, disgusted and saddened with today’s morals. As if he hadn’t noticed him, Gary leaned against a tree, nestled the girl into his arms and planted a kiss against her mouth. Nick tooted the car horn, hoping to end the public display.

At first, Gary didn’t move, then finally rolled his shoulders from the tree trunk, eased away from the young woman and ambled toward the SUV.

Nick rested his arm against the window frame and watched him amble nearer. “I’ve been waiting.”

“I’m not going home. I forgot to tell you.”

The young woman adhered to his side like a static-charged balloon. “Hi, Mr. Thornton,” she murmured.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a glance but not remembering her name—if he’d ever known it. “Gary, you should have told me. I’ve been hanging around town waiting for you. Better yet, you should have asked. What’s up?”

Gary’s face twisted to a sneer. “I’m going to Phil’s. We have some things to do.”

“What kind of things?”

“Dad, get off my back. Things.”

Nick’s body stiffened. “Please be more respectful, Gary. What kind of things? Studying?”

“Yah, studying.”

The girl snickered and nestled closer against his side.

Studying held about as much reality as cleaning his room. “It’s a school night and I’m not coming back to pick you up.”

“Phil’ll bring me home or I can spend the night.”

“No, you can’t. I want you home.”

Gary slapped the car roof. “Come on, Dad. I’m not six anymore. I’m sixteen.”

“That’s right, and when you’re twenty-one and earning your own living, you can stay out as long as you want.” Nick’s jaw tightened. “You’ll be home by nine.”

Gary scowled. “Ten.”

“Okay, ten, but no later.”

Gary drew back, lifted a hand and walked away.

Nick pondered the gesture as his son strode away from the SUV. Had it been a goodbye wave or an I-don’t-want-to-hear-this-anymore gesture.

Nick fell back against the seat, feeling the warm breeze but forgetting the fresh scent and hopeful sense of something new he’d had earlier. He and Gary had become an old argument for the past two years. The first year after Jill’s death had been one of silence. The last two had been years when silence would have been a gift.

His shoulders slumped as he pulled away. If he didn’t love his son so much, he wouldn’t care, but Gary was all he had now, his purpose for waking in the morning. With Jill gone—the word made him cringe—life had changed, and despite their rough times, his life had not just faded but died with her. He woke in the morning, ran his businesses, arrived home to be with his distant son and went to bed, wishing they’d never gone waterskiing that ill-fated day, wishing he’d never looked back at Jill.

The sunlight blurred against the hood of his SUV and he brushed the tears away with the back of his hand. He’d lost the sense of family. He’d become alienated from his son. Time to make changes. He needed to do something about his relationship with Gary. What, he didn’t know, but he hoped the Lord would guide him. He and Gary had to come to an understanding, at least a tolerable existence, and Nick knew he had to live again.

A voice sounded in his head—Rona Meyers, a feminine powerhouse. Maybe he could learn something about life from her. He’d seen those stormy eyes tinged with the hint of sunny hope. He needed hope and he definitely needed energy.

The late afternoon sun streaked across the lake as Rona exited the Harbor Inn the way she’d come in that afternoon.

She headed for her car, then stopped and looked back at the brick-red clapboard building with wide windows, letting reality sink in. She worked here.

The difference between Harbor Inn and the last café she’d worked struck her. Walking on the plank floor all day at Harbor Inn had been easier than the typical city-diner slab floor covered by tile or cheap carpet. Harbor Inn had a homey feeling. People knew people. They talked and joked. And if she needed anything right now, it was a sense of home.

She ambled past her car, drawn by the lulling roll of the lake. Small fishing boats lined the harbor along with private speedboats to carry passengers from the mainland to their homes on the islands—thirty-six islands, she’d learned from Bernie when he’d accepted her application and taken a minute to talk.

Pausing a moment, Nick Thornton’s image settled over her. He lived on the large island across the stretch of water. The distant homes looked lovely, large rambling houses with large boathouses, many two stories with rooms for guests. This kind of life she’d never experienced and never would.

She grasped her shoulder bag and crossed the street, heading toward the white building near the water, the marina’s office, where people could gather information and perhaps book a fishing trip. Beyond the office, a white gazebo stood in a small patch of grass closer to the water, too small for a bandstand, but it added charm to the landscape.

Lake water and fish scented the air, a vital smell that made her feel alive. Rona leaned against the gazebo and drew in a deep breath as she regrouped her courage and reminded herself why she came to this town in a little hook of land in the upper peninsula.

Wondering what life might be like across the rolling blue water, she turned back and headed for her small sedan, but before she opened her car door, she noticed a grocery store across from the Harbor Inn. Her cabin didn’t have a kitchen, but she could use some cereal and she could store milk in her cooler until she found something more permanent.

She veered across the street and headed inside. She gazed around the store sizing up what they had to offer. Cereal and milk for breakfast, a bag of chips and a six-pack of orange pop would serve her for now. She’d had a good meal at the inn and tomorrow she’d make more definite plans.

Rona paid the clerk, then stepped outside. Pressing the remote, she heard the comforting click of the locks. She shoved the grocery bag inside, then gave the lake a final look.

Her heart jigged a moment when she saw a broad-shouldered man with wind-tossed hair drive past her. His bristled jaw and solid features assured her. Nick. Rona followed his SUV with her eyes. When the road ended at the harbor, he turned left along the piers and boathouses.

Though feeling like a stalker, Rona climbed into her car and followed, curious as to where he was headed. Holding back, she saw him slow up and turn into a grassy area. She waited and soon he strutted from behind the cabins and crossed the street.

She rolled forward, seeing him march along the pier and stop in front of a good-size speedboat.

Nick untied the front ropes, then stepped into the craft and removed the back moorings. He vanished inside the cabin, and in a moment, she heard the motor hum and saw the boat head into the lake.

Her curiosity growing, Rona rolled closer to the pier and put her sedan in Park. She followed the wake of the bow as Nick headed to the big island. Nick steered along the shoreline, then rounded the bend. Marquette Island. It had to be.

She could picture his home, like him, manly and sturdy, but the image caused her to pause. He hadn’t worn a ring but he could still be married. He had a son. She lowered her gaze, mortified that she’d been ogling a man who might very possibly have a wife.

Rona shifted into gear, turned around in the nearest driveway and headed back to Highway M-134, determined to keep her curiosity under control.

The motel appeared ahead. Hardly a place to call home, but she would make the best of it until she had the chance to find a rental she could afford. The job offer at Harbor Inn had been a gift from God.

God. She and God had been estranged for a long time. All her life she’d believed that the Lord guided her steps, but the day her brother duped her into giving him a ride had been the day she figured God might guide other people’s plans but He’d allowed Satan to guide hers. Where had her fortress and shield been that day?

The remembrance shot through her and she didn’t want any part of the recollection. Her life had nearly ended that day, and instead of struggling with it, she preferred to pretend it hadn’t happened. That’s why she’d moved away.

She pulled in front of her log cabin and dug into her bag for the key. Logs seemed to be the popular building material in the area. It made sense; Nick had mentioned his family were loggers and she realized logging still provided jobs for many workers. Too bad she wasn’t a strong, outdoorswoman. Logging could provide her with a good income.

Nick had been on her mind since she’d met him. When he’d slid the newspaper in front of her, she decided at first it had been because he knew she wanted a better job than being a waitress, but when she saw the housekeeper ad, she wondered if he’d been interested in hiring her.

She questioned her good sense. The man didn’t know her. She could be a thief or an addict…anything. Why would he consider her?

She couldn’t imagine living in a house on an island, a big house with lovely furniture and at least some luxuries. Housekeeper? Could she handle a job like that. Why not? She’d cleaned many houses—her parents, her own when she’d been married, and then the variety of apartments she’d called home for short periods of time. Housekeeping as a job would hardly pay better than the waitress job. Still, it offered a room. Wondering why she’d let her mind wander to the ridiculous, she stopped herself from second-guessing.

A long, lonely evening lay ahead of her when she stepped inside the single square bedroom with a small bathroom. One glaring overhead bulb hung from the ceiling and a single lamp sat on the nightstand where she placed her purse and room key. She pulled open the brown-and-green plaid curtains to let in the five o’clock light. Night still came early in the north and she longed for long summer evenings.

She tossed the potato chips on the dresser along with the box of cereal, then checked her cooler for ice. Low. She’d need to add some cubes from the motel’s stash until she could buy a bag.

Sinking into the only easy chair, Rona looked around the room with its dark walls, mass-produced paintings and thread-worn towels beside the sink. What would it be like to live in one of those lovely homes on Marquette Island or any island for that matter?

She twiddled her thumbs, wishing she’d picked up a magazine and the newspaper. She needed to find a place to live. The TV remote lay on the nightstand. She pointed it at the TV. Snowlike fuzz dotted the screen. She pressed another button and a news program brightened the room. The newscasters appeared to have orange-colored skin.

Forcing herself to watch, she sank back into the chair, but the distorted colors and unfamiliar names and places left her feeling even more alone.

Why had she come here? She could have lost herself in a big city somewhere else. She’d had reasons to run away. They made sense to her, but making the move had been harder than she realized. At home she had a couple of friends and a father who’d spent most of his lifetime drunk. It hardly seemed worth sticking around the Detroit area and dealing with her brother again for them. Her brother had hurt her—disappointed her—too many times.

Yet she loved him. They were kin and she knew that should mean something. To him, it meant someone to rip off and manipulate. At least being home meant memories of her mother and the familiar, as bad as it had been sometimes.