The Mackinac Bride: Secrets of Mackinac Island, #5, page 1
The Mackinac Bride
Secrets of Mackinac Island
Katie Winters
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Coming Next in the Secrets of Mackinac Island
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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Copyright © 2022 by Katie Winters
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Katie Winters holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter One
1987
Mackinac Island, Michigan
Marcy Plymouth was twenty-one years old and on the brink of the rest of her life. There she stood at the edge of the Mackinac Island docks, with legs for days, slender arms, gorgeous dark blond locks, and her eyes locked expectantly on the glittering horizon of the Straits of Mackinac. In only a few minutes, the love of her life, Zane Hamlet, would appear on the steps of the Mackinac Island Shepler’s Ferry. In only a few minutes, he would scoop her into his arms, kiss her with his eyes closed, and remind her, yet again, that she was meant for something more than what she’d ever known. This was the summer of her wildest dreams— June 1987, and it was only just beginning.
“Hey there, Marcy!” Kurt, one of the head ferry operators at Shepler’s, stepped from the mainland onto the dock and waved. As Marcy and Kurt were both islanders through-and-through, they’d known one another since they’d been diaper-wearing toddlers and thought of one another as family.
“There he is.” Marcy extended her arms, wrapping Kurt in a playful hug, then bounced back. “That uniform is really something on you.”
Kurt guffawed, the tops of his cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment. “I thought I looked important in it. Nothing like Marcy Plymouth to knock me down a peg.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Marcy scolded him. “You look like a captain.”
“Yeah, yeah. Tease me all you like.”
“I’m serious, Kurt. You’ve worked hard to get where you are. It’s rare to be named captain at twenty-one. You should be proud.”
Kurt’s blue eyes pierced hers as he palmed the back of his neck. “I guess you’re waiting for Zane?”
It was Marcy’s turn to blush. Her face burned hot with excitement. “I probably look so foolish, waiting here at the dock for him like a golden retriever. But I just can’t wait!” Marcy then extended her hand out to allow the engagement ring on her fourth finger to glint in the penetrating June sunlight. “I just can’t believe that I’ll be Mrs. Hamlet before the end of the summer.”
“It’s the wedding of the season,” Kurt quipped.
“And you’ve already got a date lined up for yourself? I told you that you have a plus one,” Marcy reminded him.
“I’ve got a few options in mind.”
“Kurt!” Marcy whacked him playfully on the upper arm. “You have to stop running girls around.”
Kurt gestured toward his captain’s uniform and wagged his eyebrows. “Babe, haven’t you seen the uniform? I can do whatever I want.”
Marcy rolled her eyes deep into the back of her head, even as a smile played out across her lips. “You’ll never settle down, will you?”
“Why would I? I’ve got my eyes set on a lifetime of adventure,” Kurt continued. “This captain job is only the beginning. I have a hunch that it’ll land me somewhere exciting. Somewhere like the Florida Keys or Hawaii.”
“Somewhere far, far away,” Marcy offered, jutting out her lower lip.
“Don’t pretend like Zane isn’t going to whisk you away,” Kurt said. “The man’s an architect now. He’s probably got his sights on a thousand jobs across the country. For all I know, you’ll be in Paris or Rome by the end of the summer.”
Marcy’s heart performed a backflip. Was it really possible that her life would take on such dimension? All she’d ever known was Mackinac Island, plus a smattering of other Northern Michigan cities, towns, lakes, and fields. Her father, Elliott Plymouth, had owned the Pink Pony Bar and Grill for as long as anyone could remember. Since the age of fourteen, Marcy had worked there as well, often for less pay than the other workers. The job was required of her as a Plymouth. That was just the way things were. “It is what it is” was an expression her father liked to say. Marcy resented this expression, although she understood why Elliott used it so often. His life had not been an easy one.
Perhaps Marcy’s would become easy soon. Or, better yet, perhaps her life would glow with magic.
“There’s the boat!” Kurt pointed out across the water, then adjusted his captain’s hat on his head and explained that he would be driving the boat back across the Straits in fifteen minutes. Already, tourists lined up along the dock, shifting against their suitcases and touching their sunburns tentatively.
Marcy could hardly understand anything Kurt said. The moment the ferry docked and dropped its ramp, her heart burst into her throat, and her ears ceased to hear. All she could do was feel— feel the love that beamed from Zane’s eyes and the hope that brewed between them.
Zane was handsome and had always been handsome, which, Marcy liked to say, was “besides the point.” Yes, he was six foot three, with broad shoulders, thick black hair, and glittering, inky eyes. But beyond that, he was quick-witted, incredibly kind, and intelligent without being boastful. Above all that, of course, he loved her with a passion and a fire that Marcy knew was unparalleled. Her female friends on the island were terribly jealous of her stories. All she could do was thank her lucky stars.
Zane stepped off the boat and did precisely what Marcy had expected him to do. He took her into his arms, kissed her with his eyes closed, and whispered, “This will be the best summer of our lives.” Marcy fell into him like she fell into daydreams. It was hardly possible that he was real.
Zane and Marcy collected Zane’s two suitcases and headed up the dock, piercing through the throng of tourists to get to the main road. Once there, Marcy remembered to turn back to wave to Kurt, who waved from the top of the boat.
“Kurt looks good in the captain uniform,” Zane said with a hearty laugh.
“I think so, too. Each time I compliment him about it, he thinks I’m teasing him,” Marcy offered, turning her head to gaze into Zane’s eyes.
“The man’s just in love with you. That’s all,” Zane returned.
“That’s just stupid,” Marcy returned. “Everyone on this island knows that I gave my heart to you five summers ago.”
“Five? I thought it was six,” Zane quipped.
Marcy stuck out her tongue. “You were all wrapped up with Zoey Carlson six summers ago.”
“Oh, I was not. I had my heart set on you. I just flirted with Zoey to make you jealous.”
Marcy shivered with giggles and again fell into him, closing her eyes as they kissed. Several months ago, when he’d visited during a heinous springtime storm, they’d burrowed up in his parents’ vacation house, eaten snacks, drunk wine, and conspired about their future. It was over that weekend that he’d asked her to marry him, showing her the ring he’d selected at a vintage shop in East Lansing, Michigan. The “yes” had spilled out of her without question. “I love you, Zane Hamlet. I’ve wanted to marry you every single day since I met you.”
As Zane and Marcy turned the corner onto Main Street, Marcy’s heart dropped into her belly. Along the side of the Pink Pony, at least twenty people either waited or sipped drinks, their faces pinched with annoyance at the wait time.
“Wow. The bar’s getting good business these days,” Zane commented.
“Maybe we should go back to your place another way,” Marcy stuttered softly, suddenly frightened. “I told my dad specifically that I needed this day off.”
“And you never take a day off,” Zane reminded her.
“Exactly. He hardly hires new staff because he just relies on me to pick up the slack,” Marcy blurted, then scrunched her nose as she added, “I know that sounds crass. It’s our family business. I have to be there for him. For us.”
“But what’s he going to do when we get out of here?” Zane asked softly, his eyes captivating her with their magic.
Marcy’s own eyes welled with tears. “He’ll have to figure something out.”
“And he will because that’s what people do. They figure something out. They survive.”
At that moment, Elliott Plymouth’s voice boomed out across Main Street. He’d pummelled out of the front door of the Pink Pony, turned his head, and spotted his one and only daughter. “Marcy? If you walk away from this mess, you can forget about receiving your paycheck this week.”
Marcy’s stomach flipped over. Zane cupped her hand tenderly and lifted his chin in greeting. He stepped forward, guiding Marcy toward the bouncing chaos of the Pink Pony.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Plymouth,” Zane said, sounding more like a businessman than anything. “I think Marcy told you that it’s my first day on the island after over a month. I just graduated from Michigan State, and Marcy and I have plans to celebrate.”
This, too, turned Marcy’s stomach. She’d wanted to get time off to visit Zane in East Lansing for his graduation, but her father had refused. “He’ll be up here in no time. And besides, what’s a graduation? It’s just a bunch of pomp and circumstance and people wearing silly hats. I need you at the bar.”
“I’m sure you two can find time to celebrate tomorrow,” Elliott barked. “Marcy, I’ve got a line-up of ten people waiting for their beers. Greg is messing with a busted keg, and I can’t get a hold of that new girl, Stacy.”
Marcy knew that Stacy had quit without bothering to tell anyone. A recent incident with Elliott had been enough to drive Stacy off the island and back to her small town in Illinois. “Your dad is the worst,” Stacy had said.
Marcy felt wordless and helpless. Her father’s eyes were rimmed with red, and his voice was edged with panic. Just a glance at the Pink Pony told her that everyone involved was in over their heads. This was her family’s bar; this was her blood.
On top of it all, very soon, she would abandon this bar for greener pastures with Zane. Maybe if she gave her father a little more time at the bar, he would “bless” her decision to leave. Not that she’d gotten around to telling him that she and Zane planned to leave.
“Just let me get them through this rush,” Marcy blurted to Zane, whose shoulders dropped with sorrow. She squeezed his bicep and winced. “I’m sorry. But you know how it is on the island during tourist season. This is the only time we make real money.”
Zane sniffed, then eyed Elliott. “I’m tired after the drive, anyway.” He said it like he didn’t really mean it. “Why don’t you come up to the house after you get off? Mr. Plymouth, you promise you won’t keep her past nine?”
“You don’t have any say in her schedule until you say, ‘I do,’” Elliott replied coolly.
Marcy’s heart shattered at the clear arrogance in her father’s words. Oh, how she loved him! How she ached for the pain and the darkness in his heart!
“It’s okay,” Marcy pleaded with Zane not to push the matter. “I’ll bring pizza on the way up to your place. We’ll stay up all night if we have to.”
Zane’s eyes were fierce. He glanced at Elliott, then back at Marcy, before he dropped a kiss on her cheek, took the other suitcase from her hand, and said, “Always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Plymouth.” He then walked past him and began his long trek up to the vacation house his family had owned for generations.
Marcy watched him go, telling herself that he understood her predicament. After all, she and Zane were linked forevermore. There was nothing that they couldn’t understand or get through together. Yes, Elliott Plymouth was problematic. But very soon, he would be just a part of their past as they built a fresh future together. She couldn’t wait.
Chapter Two
Present Day
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Elise Darby sat in the second row of business class on the flight from LA to Detroit. There in the cushioned seat (that could extend all the way back into a bed), she enjoyed a glass of sparkling champagne, a platter of fine cheeses and Italian salami, an additional glass of champagne, and an entire movie that had only been released a couple of months before. Exhausted after two weeks hard at work in Los Angeles, she allowed herself the full luxuries of the flight— cozying up in the blanket they’d given her and cracking jokes with the flight attendant who cared for her every need. In just a few weeks, Elise Darby would walk down the aisle as a bride; after all her hard work on the film, it was time to start celebrating.
“A screenwriter? How exciting,” the flight attendant chatted as she searched through the plane’s dessert options and placed a tiramisu on the extended table. “But what brings you to Michigan?”
“I moved there,” Elise replied with a romantic, slightly tipsy sigh. “I have family on Mackinac Island, and while visiting them there, I fell in love.”
“Oh, how romantic!” The flight attendant tilted her head adoringly and looked on the verge of swooning. “Tell me everything about him.”
“Excuse me? Miss?” A woman two rows back demanded the flight attendant’s attention, which she clearly did not want to give. The flight attendant wrinkled her nose and gave Elise a knowing look, as though the two of them were in cahoots. “Hold that thought.”
Elise laughed as she dug her fork into the soft cream of the tiramisu. All summer long and into September, she’d kept up a semi-strict “bride diet” to slip easily into the dress that her half-sister, the ever-fashionable Tracey, had picked out for her. Then again, Elise’s mother had always taught her that travel days weren’t diet days. “It’s better to enjoy your life than whittle yourself away,” Allison Darby had said, her eyes twinkling.
Elise’s mother, Allison, had died a little more than a year ago. Although Elise had lived at least ten lifetimes since then, her world still felt emptier and less sunny. Allison had been Elise’s very best friend and confidant. Now, Elise felt like she lived life without a script, so to speak. Allison was no longer there to guide her or give her advice. All she had left were her memories.
The plane landed in Detroit at seven-thirty that evening. Elise thanked the flight attendant for her extra assistance during the flight, tipping her as she stepped toward the front of the plane. The flight attendant brimmed with happiness, adding, “You tell that handsome man of yours that he’s the luckiest in the world.”
Once off the plane, Elise grabbed a cup of coffee, waited for her suitcases, and then headed to the long-term parking lot to pick up her vehicle. Once there, she loaded her suitcases in the back and sat in the driver’s seat for the better part of five minutes, exhausted after such a long flight, yet overwhelmed with pleasure at everything that had happened so far that month. It was the end of September, and Michigan had rushed full-speed-ahead toward autumn, lining the tree leaves with red, orange, and yellow and adding a welcome crisp to the air. Out in the Midwest, away from the heat and smog of Los Angeles, Elise could breathe properly. She couldn’t wait to return to the island.
The drive from Detroit to Mackinac wasn’t an easy one. Elise decided to grab a hotel room for the night, sleep as long as she pleased, and then take her sweet time up to Mackinac the following day. By the time she reached the Mackinaw City docks to board Shepler’s Ferry, it was five-thirty in the afternoon, only thirty minutes before Wayne’s shift at The Grind Coffee House was due to be finished. Since she’d learned his schedule, it had been her plan to surprise him.
The ride across the Straits to Mackinac Island took approximately sixteen minutes. Although Elise was accustomed to the ferry by now, she still loved to stand in the sweet chill of the top deck and watch the red, orange, and yellow trees of the island swell toward her. As a writer, she was endlessly nostalgic and loved to dive deep into her first memories of Mackinac Island, when she’d arrived as a stranger, was nearly chased off the island by her half-brother, Alex, and eventually found a brand-new family of her own. The story was a whirlwind, one that would be coming to cinemas everywhere the following year. Elise had once joked that the film should be called “My messy, messy life.”
Kurt, the ferry boat captain, stepped out from the captain’s office to greet Elise warmly. He was broad-shouldered and muscular in his captain’s uniform, which he’d told Elise was “a second skin” at that point. Apparently, he’d worked as a Shepler’s captain since the year 1987. When he didn’t work on the ferry, he helped out at the Pink Pony alongside Marcy. Elise was pretty sure the two were approximately the same age. When together, they seemed thick as thieves, with a sort of separate “language” that they used when they spoke to each other. One could say just a couple of words that made no sense to anyone else, and the other would burst into laughter. Their friendship was for the ages.
