In His Eyes. Gail Martin Gaymer

and the warmth of his smile. Shadows lengthened along the channel road, and at the turn, her car skidded toward a ditch until she wrestled her way back to the road, thankful for the blessing.

      Her earlier line to appease Caitlin jumped into her thoughts. I’d love to live on an island. She shook her head. There wasn’t a grain of truth in that statement, but if she’d been wise, tonight she could have stayed. Her stomach gnawed, recalling the aroma of the goulash. The place needed work, but it could be a cozy home for Caitlin, except for the when-things-happen issue.

      How could people live in a location that cut them off from the rest of the world? The questions tossed in her thoughts as she recalled the sunny summer days by the lake, the fresh breeze from the water, the easygoing lifestyle so different from the tensions of her daily life.

      She could picture the moon hanging over the water. More than in well-populated areas, stars filled the sky on the island, winking and blinking with their phantasmal splendor. It spelled romance.

      Romance. She brushed away the thought.

      The ferry dock rose into view as her spirits sank. No cars waiting, only a large sign. Ferry Closed Until Further Notice. She saw a man inside the small building, and she pulled into the ferry driveway. When she stepped from the car, the breeze had whipped into a bitter wind. It was March. Only in Michigan would this weather make sense.

      “Ferry’s closed,” the man called from the building door.

      “For how long?”

      He shrugged and shook his head. “Not tonight, I can guarantee. Tomorrow doesn’t look good, especially if this storm comes in that’s heading this way.” He gave a toss of his head. “It could be longer.”

      Ellene looked into the sky and saw the burdened slate-colored clouds. Winter storm. Just what she needed. Her shoulders sagged with the weight of the news. “Any hotels around here?”

      He chuckled. “Not on the island?”

      “Rooms for rent? Bed and breakfasts?”

      He shook his head. “You can rent cabins in the summer. Not now.”

      Her frustration flared as she climbed back into the car. She smacked the heel of her hand against the steering wheel, then backed out of the driveway and stopped along the edge of the road. She didn’t want to go back and face Connor’s I-told-you-so look. Connor. Even his name caused her pulse to skip. She’d tried forever to push the memories from her mind, but failed. Every man she had dated she’d compared to Connor.

      Now after all these years, he had a daughter, a six-year-old who— She paused, counting on her fingers. They’d dated until nearly eight years ago. Connor truly hadn’t wasted time. He’d dated Ellene forever, it seemed, so how could he fall in love with someone else that fast? She’d heard he’d met someone after only a few months. Gossip was never completely trustworthy, but could he really have loved another woman while Ellene’s emotions burned for months…a year or more?

      A sigh escaped her as she pulled her cell phone from her purse. She wanted to talk with someone, anyone who would understand. Her mother? No. Her father? That would be worse.

      Christine Powers? Ten years older but like a big sister. They’d become friends at a fitness spa. Funny how friendships formed. They’d had dinner together one evening after a workout, talked about a new Tom Hanks movie they both wanted to see, and that was it—a friendship sprang up.

      Ellene flipped through her address book until she found Christine’s number, hoping she’d be home. Saturday night was date night for most single woman.

      She listened to the ring, and when she was about ready to hang up, Christine answered.

      “Guess where I am?” Ellene said, after identifying herself.

      “In Jamaica?”

      “Don’t I wish. Stranded on Harsens Island.”

      “Stranded?”

      Ellene groaned out her story—Connor, Caitlin and the closed ferry. “Connor insisted I stay, but I couldn’t?”

      “You couldn’t? Did you find a hotel?”

      “None. Nothing.”

      “Then where are you?”

      Christine’s voice lifted with her question, and Ellene could picture the look on her face. “Sitting at the closed ferry landing.”

      “Hmm? And you’re too proud to go back to Connor’s.”

      “It’s not that exactly.” The truth flashed in her thoughts. “Okay, so I’m proud, but it’s more than that. I’m still attracted to him, Christine, and I don’t know what to do.”

      Christine’s chuckle bounced from the phone. “Do I need to explain how uncontrollable emotions—”

      “But I don’t want to have feelings for Connor. I told you what happened with him and later Owen doing the same thing.” Owen. Her chest tightened at the mistake she’d made with him. “I can’t handle this now. How can I trust a man who hurt me so badly?”

      “Did you ever wonder if you hurt him, Ellene?”

      Her friend’s question knocked her backward into the seat. “It’s not what I’d planned. You know that. I thought—”

      “Thinking has consequences. People handle rejection in different ways. You withdrew, and Connor rebounded. He found someone who loved him without expectations.”

      She pictured Connor running into the arms of another woman who thought he was perfect. Ellene realized that at one time she’d thought he was perfect. She had analyzed the relationship countless times. He loved her. She loved him, but she’d begun to feel she owned him. She’d wanted him to ignore his buddies to spend time with her. She’d even been upset when he cancelled a date because his mother had an emergency and needed him. Her emotions had swung from one extreme to the other—from deeply frustrated to a longing that defied her upbringing.

      “Are you there?” Christine asked.

      “Sorry. I was thinking.”

      “Are you thinking about the right things?”

      “What do you mean right things?”

      “The good times with Connor. Once you raked him over the coals for a year, I recall you telling me about his tenderness, his charm, his respect for your Christian morals, his uncanny way—”

      “I remember, but that doesn’t make up for—”

      “I liked him. Do you remember those moonlight hayrides you told me about, walks through the woods in autumn, tobogganing in winter, swimming at Kensington Beach, picnics at Bloomer State Park, Franklin Cider Mill.”

      Ellene wanted to scream. She remembered all too well. “I called you to give me moral support, not to—”

      Car lights flashed in her eyes. The vehicle slowed and her heart rose when she realized it was Connor.

      “Connor’s here, Christine.”

      “There, at the ferry landing?”

      Ellene nodded, watching Connor climb from his SUV and head for the passenger side of her car.

      “Ellene?”

      “He’s here, Christine. Thanks for listening. I know you meant well. I suppose I should think about the good times, but it only makes me sad.”

      “It doesn’t have to,” Christine said.

      Connor rapped his knuckles against her locked door.

      “I’ll talk with you later?”

      “Think about what I said. That’s all I ask. You don’t want to be sorry you missed a chance.”

      Missed a chance. A chance for what? Getting hurt again? She pressed the lock release on the door,