Midsummer nights, p.1
Midsummer Nights, page 1
Midsummer Nights
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
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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
Cindy and Tracey Swartz crept along a Mackinac Island sailing dock, their feet bare against the harsh wood. Before them, a soft pink sunrise swelled along the horizon. They’d just returned from a four-mile run, their legs stretched out as they silently crept along, welcoming the brand-new day with open arms.
“Are you sure about this?” Cindy whispered, turning to look at Tracey.
“Am I ever sure about anything?” Tracey asked, a soft smile creeping toward her ear.
“You’re always sure. It’s the ‘being right’ thing that you’re not so good at,” Cindy muttered back, chuckling softly.
Tracey’s heart surged in her chest, transparent with hope. It was the first day of summer— June 21 and around them, Mackinac Island had sprung to life, its lilacs screaming with purple blooms, its trees dewy and green. With a spontaneous rush of adrenaline, she pulled off her running shirt and shorts and stood in only her sports bra and underwear. Cindy followed suit.
“If anyone sees us out here…” Cindy began.
“What?” Tracey asked, hands on her hips, a look of defiance marring her face. “What are they going to do?”
“It’s not every day that two forty-something women go skinny-dipping.”
“Forty-something?” Tracey tossed her hands in the air with exaggeration and eyed her elder sister. “What did we say about being ageist toward ourselves? Besides. This is my last morning on the island for a while.”
“Like ten days,” Cindy pointed out.
“Ten days! Off the island! Do you remember the last time you spent ten days off the island, Cindy?” Tracey demanded. “Celebrate this next part of my life with me, won’t you?”
“Does it have to be this way?” Cindy asked, cocking her head.
Oh, but Tracey knew that Cindy couldn’t deny how delicious the water looked. It lapped coolly against the side of the docks and tipped the sailboats into one another.
“I’m going in, whether you want to or not,” Tracey shot out. “But know that I’ll remember this moment as the time my older sister let me down.”
Cindy groaned. As Tracey swung her sports bra over her shoulders and smacked it across the dock, Cindy cried, “Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”
Tracey waited with bated breath as her older sister got completely undressed. She felt like a teenager again, long before their tremendous heartache— before Cindy’s boyfriend, Jeremy, passed away; before Tracey had learned she was accidentally pregnant; before their mother had died.
After a moment of silence, they latched hands and locked eyes.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three!”
Together, they leaped from the dock, their limbs flailing just before they crashed into the pink-tinged waves. Tracey collapsed deep beneath the blue, her eyes closed. Lake water threatened to fill her nose, but she breathed out as hard as she could. Bubbles pummelled to the surface.
The water felt so fresh against her sweaty skin. Beneath the water, the weight of her limbs and the aching of her joints retreated. It was just Tracey, as she’d always been— renewed through the nourishing beauty of a Mackinac summertime.
Tracey erupted from the surface, whipping her hair back. Around her, the water remained quiet, frothing against the dock.
“Cindy?” Tracey called. Her voice echoed across the sailboats and surrounding docks. “Hey, Cindy? Where are you?” Tracey’s heartbeat escalated. Fear mounted. Why hadn’t her sister come to the surface yet? Where on earth could she be?
“I’m here.” Cindy half-wailed from the dock, where she hid behind a thick wooden log. She grimaced with her arms wrapped around the log. “I thought I saw someone walking on the dock and totally panicked.”
Tracey cackled. “You’re a chicken.”
“You can call me whatever you want.”
“Feels pretty good, though. Doesn’t it?” Tracey asked. She combed her fingers through her hair, her grin widening. “Nothing better than a sunrise swim after a run.”
Cindy grimaced. “How am I going to get out without the entire island seeing me? Oh, this was stupid. This was so stupid. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
Tracey groaned and frog-kicked her legs to swim closer to the dock. As she prepared a plan to get Cindy out of the water without being noticed, a voice rose out from the docks.
“What on earth has gotten into you girls?”
Cindy’s eyes widened in shock at the first sound. She looked just as frightened as she had back in elementary school when she’d decided to sneak the pet hamster into class to show off to her friends. (Tracey still teased Cindy about this, as it was one of Cindy’s finest acts of recklessness. Naturally, Cindy had gotten into heaps of trouble at the time.)
“Hello?” Tracey called back, unafraid.
A woman in her fifties, wearing running pants and a tank top, crept along the dock, peering out across the water.
“Marcy! What the heck are you doing around here so early?” Tracey’s heart lifted at the sight of the long-time bartender at the Pink Pony, a woman who knew the ins and outs of all island gossip.
“You think I keep this figure just pouring beer and liquor at the bar?” Marcy shot back. “I’m up and ready to go every morning at five. Planning on a six-miler this morning.”
“You’re Wonder Woman, Marcy,” Tracey called, cackling. “You want to join my sister and I for a swim?”
Cindy swatted the water toward Tracey, clearly annoyed that Tracey had given Cindy’s name away.
“Don’t you worry yourself, Cindy,” Marcy said, clucking her tongue. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, let me tell you.”
Tracey’s stomach seized with laughter. Cindy looked absolutely mortified. With an exasperated sigh, Tracey finally said, “Marcy? Could you do us a favor, please?”
“I suppose that you girls think that I’m always at your beck and call,” Marcy replied. “But as you can see, I’m not behind the bar right now.”
“Marcy! After everything we’ve been through? You won’t help us out?” Cindy demanded.
Marcy tapped her chin with a delicate finger. “All right. I’ll hear you out. What do you need?”
“Cindy’s a bit nervous about the public seeing her in this sensitive position,” Tracey explained. “Could you shield her as she gets her clothes back on?”
“Never should have gone along with this,” Cindy groaned.
Marcy was clearly enjoying herself. She paused for a moment, pretending to give this some real thought. After a dramatic pause, she turned and spread her arms out wide, blocking off a bit of space for Cindy to leap up and hide behind her. With rushed motions, she draped herself with her running clothes and then stood, panting. Water trickled from her hair.
But after a split second, Cindy locked eyes with Tracey again, and the two sisters howled with laughter. Marcy leaped away from Cindy, her tank top sopping wet at the bottom. Quickly, Tracey joined her sister on the dock, taking her time to get herself back into her t-shirt.
“Cindy, there’s nobody around,” Tracey said, gesturing out across the empty walkway toward Fort Mackinac and the Island House Hotel. “It’s a ghost town.”
Cindy grumbled. “Marcy was around.”
“And I’m glad I was,” Marcy said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You’ve given me something to laugh about. That’s about all this old lady needs to get through the day.”
“Marcy, you do know you’re only about seven or eight years older than me, right?” Cindy asked mischievously.
Marcy waved a hand. “Don’t you give me that. I watched you grow up from that bar counter.” She then turned back to catch both Tracey and Cindy’s eyes. Hers glittered knowingly. “I know that you’ve both been through a great deal over the years. Seeing you leap off that dock this morning… It reminded me that we’re all just kids who had to pretend to grow up.”
And with that, Marcy lifted her tennis shoes and bounded down the dock, beginning her six-mile run. She left Tracey and Cindy drenched with lake water, their hearts pumping with gladness.
It would be a gorgeous summer.
Chapter Two
The screen door screeched open. Tracey froze over the top of her suitcase, still in just a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Her hair was wrapped in a fluffy bath towel, and the suitcase was only half-filled— proof that she was still far from ready.
“Mom?” There it was, Tracey’s daughter, Emma’s sweet voice. “Are you here?”
“In here, honey!” Tracey shoved several pairs of underwear into the corner of her suitcase, annoyed with herself. She’d spent the better part of the morning cackling with Cindy on the front porch, talking about the good old times as the lake water had dried from their hair.
Emma stopped in the doorway and giggled. “You haven’t finished packing yet?”
Tracey scrunched her nose. “Want to help?”
Emma dropped on the edge of Tracey’s bed and eyed the large stack of pants, shirts, and dresses. “We aren’t moving to California, Mom. Just visiting.”
“I know. I know.” Tracey whipped the towel from her hair. Her hair smacked her back. “But I’m working in costuming, Emma. Fashion! I can’t just wander around Los Angeles in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.”
“Not that you ever wear that here,” Emma pointed out.
“What did you pack?” Tracey asked, exasperated.
Emma pointed down the hallway, where a medium-sized suitcase sat upright. It was probably a third of the size of Tracey’s. Tracey hung her head in shame.
“You’re right, though,” Emma said, dropping down to lay across her bed. “Megan and I have no plans out in LA besides shopping and lying on the beach. You’ve got a job to do, and you need the clothes to do it.”
Tracey grimaced and lay down beside her daughter, clutching her hand. Her heart beat in double time. She half-considered telling her daughter that her Aunt Cindy had skinny-dipped that morning and been caught by the bartender, Marcy, but soon thought better of it.
“I’m just so nervous that I’m not right for this position,” Tracey breathed, mostly to the ceiling.
“Mom. Listen to yourself.” Emma popped back up to lock eyes with her mother. “That boutique you’ve had downtown has been profitable for years, and it’s all because of your killer fashion sense. Besides, Elise wouldn’t have recommended you for this position if she didn’t believe you were right for it. She’s in the movie business already.”
On the dresser, Tracey’s phone began to vibrate. Everything else on the dresser— the hand mirror, the foundation, the creams, shivered along with it. Tracey leaped up to grab it.
“Hi, Elise!” Tracey sounded overly excited, like a teenager on the way to prom.
“Hey there. Penny and I are about to step out the door.” Elise sounded as cool as ever. But Elise was only a half-sister, born and raised in Los Angeles. She’d been born cool.
“Oh!” Tracey gaped at her half-filled suitcase. “That should be just fine. Emma and I will meet you on the porch in five minutes.”
“Great. And Megan?”
“She’ll meet us at the docks,” Tracey explained.
Tracey got off the phone as quickly as she could, threw her phone across the bedspread, and began to throw all she could into the rest of her suitcase. She then snapped it closed and sat on the top like she’d seen other stressed women do in movies. Emma laughed and said, “Lift your legs.” As Tracey sat on top, Emma slowly zipped the suitcase up.
“Ta-da!” Emma said.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Tracey replied with an exasperated sigh.
“Do you remember what you packed?” Emma asked.
“Absolutely not.”
Emma cackled as Tracey pulled the enormous suitcase from the bed, placing the wheels on the ground first. She tugged it across the carpet and rolled it through the foyer. Just as she reached the doorway, however, Emma called out, “Mom? Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Tracey dropped her eyebrows low. “What are you…”
But Emma’s smile told her everything she needed to know. With a frustrated groan, Tracey dropped her gaze to her shorts and t-shirt combo, complete with still-damp hair and no makeup.
With that, Tracey flung into action. She buttoned up a light-yellow summer dress, tugged a comb through her hair, moussed it to highlight her curls, and applied foundation, eyeliner, mascara, and a soft coral-colored lipstick. When she emerged from the house seven minutes later, Penny and Elise had only just begun their march up the porch steps.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Elise said, her arms coming out to wrap Tracey in a hug.
Shepler’s Ferry buzzed at the docks expectantly, painted blue and white with a little cockpit at the top, where the captain sat. A dock worker grabbed their suitcases, tagged them, and placed them on a long rack for safekeeping. When he lifted Tracey’s suitcase, he winced with pain.
As Tracey prepared to apologize, however, Elise interjected.
“You’re a costume designer, Tracey. It was smart to bring several outfit options. Any other professional would have done the same.”
Tracey wasn’t entirely sure if this was the truth. Still, she was grateful for the words of comfort and lifted her hand to squeeze Elise’s elbow gently. Elise had been a miracle, coming into the lives of the Swartz family at precisely the right time. Tracey still remembered the first time she’d met her at her clothing boutique. At the time, Elise had seemed so frightened, like a fish out of water. Tracey had felt an immediate kinship with her, something that gave her a sense of family. There was no other explanation. A part of her had known she would love her one day.
Tracey sat on the top deck of the ferry. Emma and Megan perched together toward the front, their long hair whipping in the wind. Elise and Penny sat in front of Tracey, chatting about what they planned to eat first in Los Angeles.
“I miss good Asian food,” Elise groaned.
“And I miss good bagels!” Penny quipped.
Tracey reached into her purse and grabbed her notebook, which she’d recently purchased as a means to get more organized about her new job. Within, she’d compiled a list of “things to think about” when it came to Mackinac Island fashion in the seventies.
The film itself was based on Elise’s screenplay, which she’d written during her first months on the island. Back then, Elise hadn’t had a clue who her father was. Through tremendous research, Elise had learned that her mother, Allison Darby, had had an affair with Tracey’s father, Dean, while they both worked for the cinematic masterpiece, Somewhere in Time. Somewhere in Time, starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour, had been filmed on Mackinac Island back in the late seventies, when Tracey, Cindy, and their very sick little brother, Alex, had been too young to sense their father’s extramarital affair.
It was all in the past, now. If anything, Tracey often felt guilty that Elise had had to grow up without much of a family at all, while Tracey, Cindy, and Alex had had both a mother and a father on the beautiful island of Mackinac.
“Elise, I finished reading the screenplay,” Tracey heard herself say, surprising herself.
Elise turned her head. “I’m terrified of what you think.”
Tracey’s laughter was musical. “I couldn’t believe how you brought it all together. You and your mother’s story plus the Swartz story. You change from the seventies to the modern times and back again easily, with very emotional results. It’s tremendous.”
Elise’s eyes dampened.
“And the fact that you found a way to honor my mother…” Tracey trailed off, unsure of how to say this.
Elise pressed a hand over Tracey’s knee, nodding knowingly. “She was a strong and powerful woman. She slept at Alex’s side at the hospital for months. Dean knew he had to stay by her side, while my mother knew that she could go on without him. It’s an essential part of the story.”
