Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan (24 page)

“You probably never heard of it.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a small town called Brush Park.”

“Brush Park?” She thought for a moment but didn’t remember ever hearing the name before. “Is it in Illinois?”

“No, I’m from Michigan.” He rubbed the dog behind his ears. “Where are you from, Andy?”

“It depends on the season,” she said. “But this lighthouse is my favorite place in the whole world.”

“It’s becoming my favorite place too—if you’re willing to share.”

“I’m willing to share.” She paused. “With Galileo.”

Chase laughed. “Then I’m a bit jealous of this dog.”

“Where is your family?” she dared to ask.

“I only have one sister, and she is like you and me, a bit of a runner.”

“I don’t run.”

He cocked his head.

“Well, I don’t run very far.”

“Your feet may not run far.” He touched his chest. “But I think your heart does.”

He was right. Her heart often ran far from where it was supposed to be, and it wouldn’t get any better, not if she married the society man her mother had chosen for her. Her life would be full of parties and meaningless, endless chatter with the daughters of her mother’s friends.

Perhaps she would steal away on one of the steamers heading north.

“When did you arrive at the fort?”

He tilted his head again. “The fort?”

“Fort Mackinac,” she clarified and then felt silly. There was only one working fort on the island.

His eyebrows arched. “You think I live at the fort?”

She shrugged, not wanting to insult him. “I’ve heard that some of the officers live outside.”

His laughter erupted so suddenly that even Galileo looked concerned.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“You think I’m in the army.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement that he seemed to find terribly humorous.

She wrapped her arms over her chest. “I don’t see what you find so amusing.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I have all the respect in the world for our military.”

She sat up a little taller. “As do I.”

He looked down at his gray trousers and stained shirt. “I’m not wearing any military attire.”

“The soldiers don’t
always
wear their uniforms. Not when they’re playing on the island.”

“And you have experience with this?”

“I’ve seen a few of your men out during the day, yes, but I have no firsthand experience, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“They’re not ‘my men,’ Andy.”

Now she was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not in the army.”

“Then what are you doing on the island?”

He thought for a moment. “I work at the Grand Hotel.”

Her heart sank. A military officer didn’t make much money but the position was respectable, even in her parents’ eyes. If she married an officer, she would be able to afford at least one servant.

But a laborer at the Grand? It didn’t matter what his position. Neither of her parents would think of letting her marry a man who served at a hotel, no matter how much she loved him.

Not that Chase had proposed marriage to her or even hinted at it. She groaned inwardly. Her heart was becoming entangled with a man she didn’t know.

Chase was studying her again, watching for her reaction. She wanted to cry but refused to insult him with her tears. She swallowed hard. “I’m sure it is interesting work.”

“Most interesting,” he replied.

“And respectable.”

“I suppose.” He brushed his hands over his trousers. “If you could do anything you wanted in this life, what would you do?”

She didn’t hesitate this time. “I would fly.”

He laughed again, but this time it didn’t feel like he was insulting her. It sounded like he was delighted with her words. “Perhaps one day you will fly, Andy.”

She smiled at him. They were both crazy.

He eyed her again in that way that made her heart leap. “Do you think you will marry one day?”

Her smile vanished, and she looked down at her hands in her lap. “I know I will.”

The joviality in his voice washed away. “Are you promised to someone?”

“Not promised as much as prepared.”

“Do you want to marry this man?”

She shook her head. “Nor does he want to marry me.”

“So you’re planning to marry a man you don’t love?”

Her father’s words came back to her. Her father thought she should marry for love, but if she loved someone like Chase…he would never agree.

“Sometimes life doesn’t happen the way we want it to, Chase.”

He watched her closely. “Are we still talking about marriage?”

She shrugged.

“Because if we are, you should never marry a man who doesn’t want to spend every moment possible with you. His heart should ache when he’s not with you. And your heart should ache too.”

She stood up. The thunder had quieted, the rain no longer pattering the roof. “I must be getting home.”

“I hope you marry for love, Andy.”

“I—I do too, Chase, but it’s not my choice.”

He stood up beside her. “Will you come back tomorrow night?”

The dance of the season—the Independence Day ball—was Wednesday night. Tomorrow she should be preparing for their tea with Mrs. Darrington and then resting well for the ball.

He studied her face for a moment. “I must leave the island on Thursday.”

Her heart seemed to stop. “Where are you going?”

“Not far,” he said. “But I may be gone for a few days.”

“So you’ll be coming back?”

He leaned toward her, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he breathed into her ear. “Do you want me to return?”

She thought for a moment, not wanting to encourage what could never be. Yet she wanted to be honest with him. They could be friends for the remaining weeks of the summer, couldn’t they? They could look at the stars and read Magdelaine’s diary and rejoice in God’s creation together.

“I believe I do,” she whispered.

He held out his hand to help her stand, and she took it. His touch made her tremble.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said.

“Me too.”

“Will you come back tomorrow night?” he asked again.

“I will,” she whispered before she scrambled out the door.

Her father would probably be waiting out back for her, on the porch, and she hoped he was asleep again. She didn’t think she could constrain the smile on her face.

Elena waited by the window in her nightgown. She couldn’t see the stars with the lights nearby, but it was a clear night. As soon as her mother was asleep, she would leave, and perhaps she could even sneak out before her father stopped her. If he asked why she was going out again, she would tell him the truth—that she wanted to watch the stars.

Someone knocked on the door, and she turned to see Jillian peeking into the room.

“Do you need anything else this evening?” she asked.

Elena pointed to the lounge chair beside her. “I’d love to talk with you.”

Jillian closed the door and sat down.

“How are you doing?” Elena asked.

“I’m well.”

“Parker—he’s quite enthralled with you.”

“He shouldn’t be,” Jillian said with a shake of her head. “Are you going out tonight?”

“As soon as I can,” she whispered.

“You have to be careful at night, out all by yourself.”

Elena eyed the closed door, and for a moment, she wanted to confide in Jillian about Chase. But if someone heard her talking about him, she would never be allowed to see him again.

“I’m very careful.” She leaned forward. “One day, perhaps, you will be Mrs. Parker Randolph.”

Jillian giggled. “And you will be Mrs. Chester Darrington.”

Elena groaned. “If I have to marry that man, you’re not allowed to marry Parker. I’ll need your company every day.”

“I’ll come visit every day…for tea.”

They laughed again.

The doorbell chimed below them, and Elena jumped. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was after eleven.

“Maybe it’s a telegram,” Jillian said.

No visitor—or telegram—coming so late at night could bring good news.

Seconds later, Elena heard a voice below them, a woman’s voice. She sounded angry.

“Wait here,” she told Jillian as she tugged her wrapper with its puffy sleeves and ribbons over her nightgown. Then she opened her door, preparing to go downstairs.

Claude was across from her, knocking on her mother’s door. When Mama opened it, her nightcap rested just below her eyebrows and she clung to the edges of her wrapper. Claude cleared his throat. “Mrs. Randolph is here to see you.”

Mama hugged the wrapper closer to her chest. “It’s almost midnight.”

“She says it’s urgent.”

Mrs. Randolph was in the entryway below, gripping a half dozen or so envelopes in her hands. Dread filled Elena as she followed her mother down the steps. She knew exactly who the letters were from. She’d delivered one herself that very morning.

Mama squinted her eyes like she didn’t recognize the woman. “Francis?”

Mrs. Randolph stepped forward, her gaze shifting between Elena and her mother. “I want to see your maid.”

“Whatever for?” Mama asked, her voice strained but polite.

“It’s a personal matter.”

“Our entire household is asleep,” Mama said with a shake of her head. “Surely this can wait until morning.”

“It most certainly cannot.”

“Jillian is my maid, Francis. I will not wake her without knowing the reason for this disruption.”

Mrs. Randolph waved the envelopes in front of her, and Elena’s fear turned into fury. How could she be so appalled at her son caring for a woman considered beneath him by the world’s standards but every bit his equal in the sight of God?

Mrs. Randolph took another step toward Mama, her nostrils flaring. “I want to know why your maid is writing such atrocious things to my son.”

“Writing—” Mama stopped for a moment, seeming to organize her thoughts. “She’s writing letters to Parker?”

“Almost every day, ever since we’ve been on this island, at least.”

“Surely this is a mistake.”

Elena turned toward her mother. “It’s no mistake, Mama. She cares for Parker.”

Mrs. Randolph glared at her. “This is none of your business.”

“I delivered one of her letters.”

Mama stared at Elena like she didn’t recognize her. “Why would you do that?”

“Because Parker cares for her too.”

“He does no such thing,” the woman insisted.

Elena’s voice quieted. “Did you ask him?”

Mrs. Randolph cleared her throat. “Parker may think he fancies her for the moment, but it’s nothing more than a fascination. He doesn’t know what or who he needs.”

“But what if Jillian is who he needs?”

Elena’s mother stepped up the staircase, calling up to the next level. “Jillian?”

Jillian stepped into the hallway. The electric light made the blotches on her pale face glow. It would have been impossible for her not to hear Mrs. Randolph’s harsh words. The whole house had probably heard them.

“Yes, ma’am.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Mrs. Randolph clutched the banister. “I want you to leave my son alone.”

“But—”

“I don’t care what he’s said.” She waved the envelopes again. “He doesn’t love you—only the idea of you.”

Jillian’s voice strengthened. “The idea of me?”

“Plenty of men pleasure in the conquest of consorting with ladies’ maids and such, but I won’t stand for it in my family.”

Other men might enjoy the pleasure of the conquest, but not Parker.
Elena knew he was a genuine soul.

Elena stepped forward, ready to defend her friend. “Parker isn’t like other men, Mrs. Randolph. He cares about Jillian.”

Mrs. Randolph’s eyes remained on Jillian. “Has he proposed marriage to you?”

“No.” Her voice was still strong.

“Has he made any promises?”

“No.” This time her voice was weaker, and Elena wanted to tell her to fight.

“Nor will he propose, my dear, because he’s already been promised to Miss Grunier.”

Elena gasped. “Trudy?”

Mrs. Randolph glanced at her. “Of course, Trudy.”

“Does Parker know this?”

Mrs. Randolph ignored Elena’s question. How was it that, often in her circle, the last people to find out they were marrying were the bride and groom?

Mrs. Randolph took another step up the staircase. “You will stay away from him.”

Jillian stood a little taller. “Only if he asks me to.”

“Oh, he will,” Mrs. Randolph assured her before she turned. She faced Elena’s mother again. “You know she has to leave.”

Elena felt as though the floor were about to crack under her feet. Her mother couldn’t let Jillian go.

She saw the look of regret in Mama’s when she looked at Jillian. The resignation. Perhaps her mother felt a little sorry for her too. It wasn’t so many years ago that her mother had left her position to marry a wealthy man.

“I have to let her go,” she said to Elena.

“No, you don’t, Mama.”

Mrs. Randolph looked up the steps. “She needs to go tonight.”

Her mother shook her head. “Morning will be soon enough, Francis. Enough damage has been done already.”