Free Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan by Melanie Dobson Page B

water that morning. What if we hadn’t stopped to collect butternuts to roast? What if we had hurried home instead of lingering to enjoy autumn’s bounty?
    When we finally opened the front door, excited to show you our find, you weren’t here. Only Molly was in the lighthouse, asleep in the crib you made for her.
    If it weren’t urgent, you never would have left Molly on her own. You would have taken her with you, wherever you went.
    Why didn’t you leave me a letter? Why didn’t you ring the bell to call me home? If you needed help, I would have come running to you.
    I never should have stayed out for so long.

Chapter Seven

    With her boots clutched in one hand, Elena cracked open her bedroom door with the other. Across the dark corridor, she looked at the hallway door that separated her from her mother’s room, searching for the thread of light that often escaped underneath. It was dark.
    Perhaps Mama had finally gone to sleep.
    She padded down the back staircase in her stockings, past her father’s room at the end of the hallway, and sat on the back step of their cottage. Quickly she laced her boots and then grabbed the dark lantern Claude left for her on a post. Hurrying down the steps, she rushed into the backyard before anyone, including Claude, saw or heard her. Claude might hide the bike for her at the far edge of their yard, but she never wanted to implicate him in her excursions. If Mama found out that he helped her—
    Behind their cottage, a cobblestone pathway wound between Mama’s prized flower and vegetable gardens. Starlight turned the budding irises a steely gray color and washed silver across her path, glittering in the reflecting pool. Her heart leaped at the beauty of it and she moved even faster, trying to be quiet and yet feeling the urgency of her escape.
    At the end of the path, a stone terrace led up into the trees, and she climbed it with ease. The bicycle was exactly where Claude had said he left it, hidden behind a hydrangea bush on the top terrace. She brushed the leaves and dirt off the bicycle and then looped the lantern over one of the handles.
    Spindly arms of pine trees swayed above her and shadows danced around her feet as she unlatched the gate at the back of their property and pushed the bicycle toward the alley that wove behind the cottages.
    A dog barked, and she stopped for a moment, holding her breath. Someone yelled at the dog but no one called out to her, so she hurried forward before the dog began barking again.
    The inland roads along the east side of the island were a mix of rugged wetlands and treed knolls. Sometimes carriages brought tourists during the day, but most Mackinac visitors never ventured far into the forest. And the carriage drivers never navigated the island’s back roads at night.
    Every once in a while she saw a soldier walking away from the fort, sometimes dressed in his uniform and other times in more casual attire. And sometimes a soldier would be accompanied by a young lady. The few times she’d seen the latter, she’d looked the other way without a word, assuming neither he nor his escort wanted her to see them either.
    She put her leg over her bicycle, knotting her dress so it wouldn’t get caught in the spokes, and carefully pedaled up the narrow lane. Once she reached the last cottage on the eastern bluff, the road widened and she pedaled harder, every rotation taking her farther away from Castle Pines.
    Her hair fluttered in the breeze. She was free of hats and pins, free of her bustle and corset and her mother’s critical eye. For a few hours, under the cloak of darkness, she was free to be who God made her to be.
    The morning hours would be hard, no doubt, but it wasn’t like she had to be someplace after breakfast. And if this Mr. Darrington happened to see her tomorrow, perhaps the circles under her eyes would scare him away.
    Elena shook her head, chastising herself for the thought of trying to scare away Mr. Darrington. It was her job