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
