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Читать книгу: «Making His Way Home»
You Can Go Home Again
The only thing Cole Merrick wants to do with the Mirror Lake property he inherited is sell it. And the sooner the better. The handsome pilot has no attachment to the place where he and Grace Eversea fell in love years ago. He never meant to break his promises—or her heart—when he left town without a word. Now, just in time for Mirror Lake’s 125th birthday celebration, he comes face-to-face with all he left behind, including Grace. And he wonders if he ought to give this town a second chance. If only he can convince Grace to do the same for him....
Mirror Lake: A small town where dreams of finding home come true
“Now you better get on over
to the Redstones’ place before Grace thinks you stood her up.”
“Stood her up?”
“You won her basket at the box social—you’re her date.”
“For the square dance?”
“For everything.” Before Cole had a chance to ask Candy to clarify that cryptic response, she marched to the door, grumbling. “The last thing a woman needs is a guy who won’t step up to the plate and do the right thing.”
The words had continued to cycle through Cole’s mind on his way to the parking lot.
He had done the right thing.
It was the reason he’d left Mirror Lake.
And Grace.
KATHRYN SPRINGER
is a lifelong Wisconsin resident. Growing up in a “newspaper” family, she spent long hours as a child plunking out stories on her mother’s typewriter and hasn’t stopped writing since. She loves to write inspirational romance because it allows her to combine her faith in God with her love of a happy ending.
Making His Way Home
Kathryn Springer
In his heart a man plans his course,
but the Lord determines his steps.
—Proverbs 16:9
To Char
My friend who drives two hours to see me
when I need a sanity break (and brings lunch!)
and laughs at all the right places in my manuscripts. You’re the reason there will always be a
“Faye McAllister” in every story I write. Love you!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
“The dress is adorable, Grace! I knew that shade of yellow would look perfect on you.”
Grace Eversea summoned a smile, trying to match Kate Nichols’s enthusiasm while she maneuvered her ankle-length skirt—and six inches of petticoat—through the narrow gap between the sofa and the coffee table.
Add a bonnet and a pair of button-up shoes, and people just might think she’d stepped down from one of the sepia-toned portraits hanging on the wall of the historical museum.
But then again, Grace acknowledged ruefully, that was kind of the point.
It had been Kate’s idea that everyone who volunteered to help with Mirror Lake’s 125th birthday celebration should dress for the part in clothing authentic to that time period.
Something Grace hadn’t found out until after she’d agreed to act as the official tour guide for the event, transporting people to unique historical landmarks and other points of interest scattered throughout the area. In a horse-drawn wagon.
Which posed a problem that apparently only Grace could see.
“I’m still not sure how I’m supposed to sit down while I’m wearing this...bustle.” And breathe in this corset. “I think every article of clothing they wore in 1887 was designed to pinch, itch or constrict.”
At the same time.
“That could explain why none of the women in those old photographs we found were smiling.” Kate chuckled as she reached for the garment bag draped over the back of a rocking chair. “I better get back to the café. Mayor Dodd wants to go over some last-minute details before the opening ceremony tomorrow. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll—” change clothes! “—take B.C. for a dry run. I’m not sure how long it will take to complete the whole circle. We have to make five stops—”
“Six,” her friend interrupted cheerfully.
Grace blinked. “Six?”
“That’s the other reason I stopped by.” Kate’s clover-green eyes sparkled with excitement. “I sent the letter over a month ago but didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. But then he called yesterday, out of the blue, and gave us permission to add the property to the tour....”
“You lost me.” Grace jumped in when her friend paused to take a breath. “Who called? What are we adding to the tour?”
“Sloan Merrick’s place.”
Grace’s breath snagged in her lungs, and this time she couldn’t blame it on the corset. “I didn’t think that property was still in the family.”
“I wasn’t sure, either. That’s why I went to the courthouse and did a little investigating.” Kate grinned. “Apparently Sloan left the house and land to his oldest grandson when he died.”
An image rose in Grace’s mind, swift and clear, almost as if it had been lingering just below the surface of her memories, waiting for permission to appear.
Shaggy hair the color of a midnight sky. Crooked smile. Eyes the rich, deep green of a fresh cedar bough.
Cole.
“Right.” Kate’s eyes widened and Grace realized she’d said the name out loud. “Anyway, he apologized for not getting back to me sooner. His only stipulation for letting people tour the property is that we check the cabin first to make sure it’s safe. Isn’t that great?”
“Great,” Grace echoed.
“I’m surprised you remember Cole,” Kate went on. “I don’t think he lived in Mirror Lake very long.”
“A summer,” Grace murmured.
And yes, she remembered.
A girl didn’t forget the first time she’d fallen in love.
Or the first time her heart had been broken.
But she didn’t tell Kate that Cole Merrick had been responsible for both.
* * *
“One hour and twenty-six minutes, B.C.”
The old draft horse stomped a platter-size hoof and tossed an aggravated look at Grace.
Okay, so maybe she hadn’t added in the ten minutes the wagon had been parked in front of the gravel road leading up to Sloan Merrick’s house.
Grace closed her eyes.
What was wrong with her?
Her yard bordered the Merrick property. She’d driven past this exact spot hundreds—no, thousands—of times on her way to work and hadn’t thought about Cole.
But over the past few hours, memories had begun to pop up like dandelions. Grace no sooner yanked one out than another one immediately took its place.
She couldn’t blame Kate. No one, not her parents or even her closest friends, knew that she and Cole had formed an unexpected bond when his family had moved in with Sloan the summer before her senior year of high school. At seventeen, Grace had been shy and bookish; Cole grieving his father’s death and angry at the world in general.
They’d come face-to-face one afternoon in Grace’s favorite spot—a boulder roughly the size and shape of a hammock that jutted out over the lake. Anxious to finish the book tucked under her arm, Grace had stumbled upon a boy trying to light one on fire. An English text, which made it even worse because that happened to be Grace’s favorite subject.
She’d rescued the book and ordered him to leave. Not only had Cole refused, but he’d also returned the next day. And the next. After several days of ignoring each other, a tentative friendship had begun to take root. And as the weeks went by, it had blossomed into something more.
They’d talked about their families. Their fears.
Their future.
That’s why Cole’s abrupt departure had come as such a shock. In the days and weeks that followed, Grace waited for the phone to ring. Checked the mailbox every day. Twice. In time, she’d come to the realization that he hadn’t felt the same way about her.
By the time her senior year of high school ended, Grace had stopped waiting for him. Not thinking about Cole had been a little more challenging, but she had managed it.
Most of the time.
“Come on, B.C. Let’s get this over with and go home.” Grace clicked her tongue and the mare obediently plodded forward, right between two rusty No Trespassing signs hammered to the oak trees that flanked the gravel driveway.
The two-story brick house wasn’t visible from the road, so she hadn’t realized how neglected the property had become since Sloan’s death four and a half years ago. The man had been meticulous in maintaining the spacious grounds, but weeds had taken over the raised vegetable gardens and branches from a recent storm littered the yard.
The original homestead, a rustic cabin with a crumbling layer of white chinking between the logs, sat at the edge of a small pond garnished with cattails. Lilac bushes scented the air with a heady, soul-stirring fragrance that rivaled the perfume counter of an exclusive boutique.
No wonder Kate had wanted to add the Merrick place to the tour. Even in its neglected state, there was something appealing about the structure. A simplicity that reflected a time when life had been the same way.
Grace hopped down from the wide plank seat and looped B.C.’s reins around the weathered pole of an old clothesline. She waded through the tall grass and circled the cabin, on the lookout for potential hazards to curious children and petticoats.
As she rounded the corner, her gaze drifted to a narrow opening between two poplar trees. And even though it wasn’t part of her scheduled tour, Grace was drawn down a path that only existed in her memory.
As the wooded area opened to a small clearing along the shoreline, she stopped dead in her tracks.
A man stood on the rock, hands in his pockets, facing the lake.
Apparently she wasn’t the only one who ignored the No Trespassing signs.
Mayor Dodd had warned everyone to prepare for an influx of visitors. Not only had people in the community invited their family and friends to attend the celebration, but Grace’s friend, Jenna, had also mentioned it in the weekly column she wrote for the online edition of Twin City Trends magazine.
As if he sensed Grace’s presence, the stranger turned around to face her, his face shadowed under the brim of a ball cap.
“Sorry.” She took a step back. “I didn’t realize anyone was here—”
“Grace?”
Her breath stuck in her throat.
Either her mind was playing tricks on her...or Cole Merrick was back in Mirror Lake.
* * *
Twelve years disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Cole was seventeen years old again, about to torch a textbook and sprinkle the ashes over the water, when a girl had stumbled into view. Eyes the color of dark chocolate had widened with astonishment when she’d spotted him.
Almost identical to the expression Cole saw on her face now.
Well, he was feeling a little shell-shocked, too, by this unexpected blast from the past.
Grace Eversea. The last person Cole had expected to see.
He automatically took a step toward her.
Grace took another step back.
Cole frowned. He hadn’t changed that much over the years. A few crow’s feet fanning out from his eyes—ones he held Bettina and Travis and Sean, his twin brothers, directly responsible for—but other than that...no tattoos. No piercings. The reflection in the mirror remained pretty much the same.
“It’s me.” He yanked off his cap. “Cole.”
“I know.”
I know?
Those two words might have made Cole feel a little better. If Grace hadn’t tossed a quick look over her shoulder like she was searching for an escape route.
“It’s...been a long time.” Because there’s nothing like stating the obvious, is there, buddy?
“Yes, it has.” Grace finally smiled, but it wasn’t the one Cole remembered. The one that had made him feel like he could conquer the world. This one was distant. Polite. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
It sounded almost like an accusation.
“Kate wrote to me,” Cole explained. “About Mirror Lake’s birthday celebration.”
And if everything went the way he hoped, in twenty-four hours he would be celebrating something else. Phase two of the expansion project for Painted Skies, his private air charter service.
“She mentioned that. Today.” Grace sighed. And glanced over her shoulder again.
Cole took advantage of the momentary silence to study her. At seventeen, Grace had cared more about books than shoes. Other girls their age knew how to flirt; Grace knew how to listen. She’d taught him how to skip rocks and hunt for literary symbolism buried in obscure passages of Shakespeare. A failing grade following his father’s death had sentenced Cole to six weeks of summer school, and Grace had saved him from a D in English Lit.
Who was he kidding?
She’d saved him from a lot of things.
Cole had never known anyone quite like her.
But if the wary expression on Grace’s face was anything to go by, she didn’t feel the same way. The conversation was beginning to feel like an awkward blind date instead of an unexpected reunion between two people who had once been friends.
Close friends.
In fact...Grace happened to be standing in the exact spot where Cole had kissed her for the first time. Right underneath that silver birch...
He heard her quick intake of breath and yanked his wayward thoughts back in line.
Grace pivoted away from him. “It was...nice...to see you again, but I have to get back.”
“Hold on.” The words slipped out before Cole could stop them. “I’ll walk with you.”
He hopped down from the rock and caught up to Grace as she reached the clearing. Her figure was still as slender as the reeds that hemmed the shoreline, but faded Levi’s hugged curves that hadn’t been there in high school.
They fell into step together, but Grace kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. The mane of glossy, sable brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of Grace’s neck, giving Cole an unobstructed view of her delicate profile.
Her steps quickened as the house came into view, as if she couldn’t wait to be on her way.
Cole, on the other hand, suddenly wanted to know more about her.
“Would you like to come inside for a few minutes?”
Grace looked shocked by the impulsive invitation, and Cole mentally smacked himself upside the head. Grace wasn’t the teenaged girl who’d turned his world upside down—and his heart inside out.
Not to mention there was probably someone who would be tempted to punch his lights out for asking.
“I can’t. I have to get B.C. home,” she murmured. “She gets cranky if she doesn’t get her oats at a certain time.”
For the first time, Cole noticed the enormous draft horse hitched to an old-fashioned buckboard.
The mare’s head swung around, and she whinnied a greeting.
Cole grinned.
At least someone looked happy to see him.
Chapter Two
Grace had no choice but to follow as Cole strode over to the wagon.
“Hey, Buttercup,” he crooned, knuckling the mare’s wide velvety nose.
B.C.’s ears twitched in response to the husky rumble of Cole’s voice and Grace’s heart responded with a traitorous twitch of its own.
“I can’t believe you remember her name,” she muttered.
“It’s pretty hard to forget a two-thousand-pound horse named Buttercup.”
But apparently, Grace thought, it wasn’t hard to forget other things. Like plans. And promises.
She fumbled with a strap on the mare’s harness in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the man whose presence had tipped her world off its axis.
For the first time, she noticed a black midsize SUV parked on the other side of the house. If she hadn’t been so distracted by her thoughts, she would have realized someone else was on the property.
But what was Cole doing in Mirror Lake?
Grace had never considered the possibility that Kate’s letter would not only gain permission for her to lead tours of the Merrick property, but also result in a visit from the owner of the property himself.
But here he was, standing less than three feet away from her. It felt almost surreal.
After Cole had left town without a word, Grace had played dozens of different scenarios in her mind, rehearsing what she would say if their paths ever crossed again.
She hadn’t realized that she would find it difficult to say anything at all. Or that Cole would be more attractive at twenty-nine than he’d been at seventeen.
His lanky teenaged frame had shot up another inch or two and filled out. He was still lean in the hips, but his shoulders were broader, his arms more muscular. The unruly strands of ink-black hair that had once brushed the top of his collar had been cropped short. Taken one by one, Cole’s features could almost have been described as ordinary. Deep-set green eyes. Strong cheekbones. Angular jaw. But added together, they packed quite a punch.
The fact that she could hardly breathe was proof.
“How many miles does she get to the gallon?” he asked.
Grace refused to respond to Cole’s teasing smile. “We thought the historical tour would be more fun if we used an authentic mode of transportation.”
“We?”
“I’m on the planning committee.”
“I didn’t realize you were one of the people who’d volunteered to help with the celebration this weekend,” Cole said slowly.
“I’m the only one with a horse and wagon.” Grace untied the reins, a not-so-subtle hint she was ready to leave. “B.C. only comes out of retirement for special occasions now, though, like the Fourth of July parade and Reflection Days in September. The kids love her.”
“So you’ll be leading the tours?” Cole seemed as determined to continue their conversation as she was to end it.
“A journey back in time.” Grace had come up with the name during a brainstorming session with the planning committee and the irony wasn’t lost on her now.
She didn’t want to journey back in time. Not if it meant facing Cole Merrick again.
“So you came back for the weekend?” He rested a tanned forearm on the side of the wagon. “Or do you spend your summers here?”
“I don’t know what you...” The air emptied out of Grace’s lungs, making it impossible to finish the thought.
Cole assumed she’d returned for the celebration.
But why wouldn’t he? She’d confided in him that summer. Trusted him with her dreams.
With her heart.
“I’m not visiting. I live here.”
“In Mirror Lake?” Cole struggled to hide his surprise. As far as he knew, Grace had never planned to make the town her permanent home.
“That’s right.” She wedged the toe of her cowboy boot inside the spoke of the wagon wheel and swung onto the seat before Cole could offer his assistance. “My parents moved to Boston to be closer to my sister, Ruth, and her family a few years ago. They bring my two nephews back for a visit every summer.
“Mom claims it’s to give the boys a taste of country living, but she pulls weeds in the flower beds all day and Dad cuts enough firewood to last all winter. I think they’re the ones who need to spend some time in the outdoors.”
So, not only had Grace made Mirror Lake her home, but she still lived next door.
Had she fallen in love with one of the locals and decided to stay? Cole’s gaze dropped to her left hand. No wedding band or engagement ring.
He couldn’t believe it. Were all the men in town blind, deaf and dumb? Or just dumb?
“Why did you decide to stay?” Cole couldn’t prevent the words from slipping out.
“I love it here.”
Was it his imagination, or had she placed a slight emphasis on the word “I”?
“What do you do? For a living?” Cole knew the sluggish economy had hit the northern Wisconsin counties particularly hard, but Mirror Lake had been struggling for years. He figured the only thing that had kept the town going was an equal mix of love and loyalty, along with a generous dash of stubbornness, in the hearts of the people who called it home.
“I’m a social worker.”
That surprised Cole, too. “I thought for sure you’d be teaching English Lit at some fancy prep school.”
Grace looked away. “Plans change.”
Cole couldn’t argue with that. And sometimes they were simply put on hold, waiting for the right opportunity.
“It was nice of you to let us add the cabin to our tour,” Grace said after a moment, so politely that once again, Cole was reminded that she’d changed, too. “Kate asked me to stop over tonight and make sure there were no safety issues.”
Cole glanced at the cabin. The sun had dissolved into a strip of clouds on the horizon and shadows funneled through the trees and crept into the yard, shrouding the small structure in darkness. “Are there? I haven’t had a chance to look around yet.”
“The grass is pretty tall, but I didn’t see anything that could cause an injury. And the cabin appears sound.”
“No...snakes?” He tried to suppress a shudder.
“No snakes.” Grace’s unexpected smile, the first genuine one he’d seen, sent Cole’s heart crashing against his rib cage.
She was obviously remembering the afternoon they’d explored the tiny cabin and disturbed a pine snake dozing in an old chair. Cole had mistaken it for a coil of rope—until he swept it onto the floor. The thing had glided over his feet on its way to find another hiding place, but Cole had beat it to the door, leaving Grace behind in tears.
Because she’d been laughing so hard.
Truth be told, Cole was beginning to remember a lot of things about the summer he’d met Grace.
But it was the future he needed to focus on.
After he’d discovered Kate’s letter—misfiled in a desk drawer, thanks to Bettina, his absentminded younger sister—Cole had contacted Sullivan and Sullivan, the only law office in Mirror Lake. Not only had the attorney recognized his name, but he’d also claimed he had a copy of Sloan’s will and a key to the house—for Cole.
Until that moment, Cole hadn’t truly believed his grandfather had left him an inheritance. He’d assumed the house and land, along with all of Sloan’s personal possessions, had gone up for sale after his death.
Shaken, Cole had asked the lawyer why he hadn’t been told about his grandfather’s wishes. Sullivan had hemmed and hawed a bit before explaining that Sloan had set a condition—that Cole not be told about the property unless he returned to Mirror Lake on his own.
Cole didn’t believe in coincidences, but he did believe in divine intervention.
This is your time, his secretary, Iola, had said right before Cole had left for Mirror Lake.
His time hadn’t been his own since he was seventeen. But now that his mother had remarried and his younger siblings were starting their own lives, maybe he could finally believe it was true.
And all he had to do to make his dream a reality was to sell the piece of land that had been in the Merrick family for five generations.
* * *
“I’m sorry, but Sully won’t be back in the office until Monday.”
Cole stared at the receptionist—and apparently the other half of Sullivan and Sullivan—in disbelief. Candy Sullivan, a bleach blonde in her mid-fifties, had pointed to a chair by the window when he’d walked into the law office. Then she’d spent the next fifteen minutes chatting on the phone while she painted each fingernail a shade of red that matched the fire hydrant on the curb outside.
Fortunately, her conversation had come to an end about sixty seconds before Cole’s patience.
“I picked up the key from Mr. Sullivan when I got into town yesterday. He didn’t say anything about going away for the weekend.”
“Yesterday Sully didn’t know that Mayor Dodd was going to ask him to judge the square dance competition.” Candy pursed her lips and blew a stream of air on her pinky finger. “He needs a few hours to get ready, so he skipped out early. Matilda Fletcher, she’s the head of the historical society, found him the cutest pair of red suspenders—”
“You mean he’s still in town?”
Penciled-in eyebrows hitched together like boxcars over the narrow track of Candy’s nose. “Where else would he be, honey? A town only turns one hundred and twenty-five years old...” A brief pause. “Once.”
Cole pulled in a breath and held it, trying to cap off his rising frustration. He’d promised Iola he would be back by the end of the day.
His secretary’s husband, Virgil, had taken Cole’s place in the cockpit for the flying lessons Cole had scheduled, but he preferred to be on the ground now, taking care of the shop. A job that had belonged to Cole before he’d bought out the business from Cap Hudson, the flight school’s previous owner.
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“He’s probably at the park right about now. I have to get over there myself.” Candy dropped the tiny brush back into the bottle and aimed a pointed look at the clock.
“You wouldn’t happen to know the name of a local Realtor, would you?”
“There’s only one. Sissy Perkins.”
“Where is her office located?”
“A block off Main. Right behind the bank.”
“Thanks—”
“But Sissy isn’t working today, either.”
“The square dance competition?”
Candy Sullivan’s shield against sarcasm had to be as thick as her bronze foundation because she smiled at him. “The box social. It starts at eleven, by the pavilion.”
Cole glanced at his watch. If he hurried, he might have a few minutes to talk to both his grandfather’s attorney and the Realtor.
Or see Grace again.
He shook away the thought and another one immediately took its place....
Grace sitting on the rock, her bare toes drawing lazy circles in the water while she listened to him recite a passage from his English text. Splashing him if he dared to grumble.
But the Grace he’d encountered the evening before wasn’t the one he remembered. That Grace wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get away from him.
Cole felt a stab of regret for the way things had turned out.
He’d thought about Grace over the years. Pictured her standing in a sunlit classroom against a chalkboard backdrop, the classics fanned out on her desk like a buffet. Each book a sample of a new literary adventure she would encourage reluctant students to try.
He’d never imagined she would become a social worker and continue living in her childhood home. She was the one who’d challenged him to pursue his dreams.
Plans change, she’d said.
But what had changed? Her circumstances? Her goals? She’d told him what she was doing, but not why.
Because it’s none of your business, Cole reminded himself.
And right now, his business was somewhere in the park.
He waited at the corner for a brightly painted ice-cream truck to lumber past before crossing Main Street.
From the looks of it, half the town had already gathered in front of the pavilion. Cole stalked toward the makeshift stage set up in the shade of a towering maple, dodging kids and dogs and several people who looked like extras on the set of Little House on the Prairie.
He paused to look around, trying to find Marty Sullivan’s face in the crowd.
“I think the auction is about to start,” he heard someone say. “Let’s get closer to the stage. I can’t see what I’m bidding on from way back here.”
“Just don’t bid on the one with the pink ribbon tied around the handle. That one’s mine.”
“It’s Grace Eversea’s basket, ain’t it?”
Cole’s head jerked around at the name. He eased around the trunk of the nearest tree so he could eavesdrop—see—better.
Two guys close to his age stood several yards away. One of them was as tall and skinny as a fly rod, with shaggy blond hair and a full beard. The other a businessman of some kind, pale and clean-cut with a smile as tight as the garish purple tie knotted around his neck.
“What if it is?” Purple Tie sounded a wee bit defensive.
“Good luck with that,” Shaggy scoffed.
“You’re just bitter because Grace wouldn’t go to the fireworks with you last Fourth of July.”
“How many times have you struck out?” Shaggy shot back.
“Not as many as you.”
Cole almost smiled. He wasn’t sure why the guy was bragging about it.
“And you think winning her basket is going to make Grace forget the reason she turns down all the guys who ask her out?”
“I know it will. Women love this kind of attention. When I outbid everyone else, she’ll be flattered—”
“And grateful.”
His friend flashed a sly grin. “You got it.”
Cole couldn’t believe it. If he had his way, neither one of them would spend five minutes in Grace’s company. They didn’t deserve her.
“I’ve got twenty dollars.” Purple Tie tapped his back pocket. “Do you think it’ll go for more than that?”
“If it does, I’ve got five I can lend you.”
“Great. Then I’m in.”
Cole dug his wallet from his back pocket and thumbed through the contents as the bidding started.
A slow smile spread across his face.
So was he.
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