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Owen

H er eyes were hesitant, but she took my hand, her fingers cool and clammy in mine.

I drank her in like a starving man as she rose to her feet.

The way her golden hair flowed in loose waves over her shoulders, combined with her light makeup, evoked a sense of nostalgia, reminding me of our carefree teenage years.

I saw the young girl I’d secretly crushed on for decades.

At just above my shoulder, she was small enough that I found myself wanting to tuck her under my chin, a protective yearning taking over for a fleeting moment.

As I lingered, not moving to go down the aisle, she fixed her questioning blue eyes on me.

I cast aside the whimsical fantasies of my youth, the visions I'd held for so long that all starred the woman standing before me, and escorted her off the ferry.

I kept her hand locked in mine as we made our way down the pier and into the center of town. Despite the chill in the air, people were everywhere, but that didn’t detract from the quaintness of Mackinac Island.

This island seemed to exist outside of time, blending elements of different eras, making it feel like it belonged to multiple centuries at once.

A timeless place, a place where centuries overlapped and blended together.

The scene was a blend of Victorian charm, with its elegant architecture and horse-drawn carriages, juxtaposed against the bustling modernity of bicycle-filled streets and throngs of tourists.

Before me, the landscape unfurled like a tapestry, blending the familiar with the forgotten.

The burgundy carriage that would take us to the Grand Hotel, drawn by a team of magnificent horses, sat waiting at the edge of the sidewalk.

The frills were a bit much for me, but it was clear that Kat found it utterly charming.

A footman, a figure of formality in his red livery and black top hat, stood at the door of the covered carriage, waiting to assist her inside.

Behind it, a flatbed horse-drawn cart was being loaded with luggage from the multiple ferries that had recently docked. The vehicle would make its way around the island, delivering its load to all types of accommodations, from luxury resorts to small, family-run inns.

The carriage lurched forward, the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on the street filled the air as we passed bustling shops and lively restaurants down Main Street.

As we rattled along, the carriage driver regaled us with a torrent of facts, his voice echoing over the clatter of the wheels.

He introduced the horses, Vern and Judge, Belgian horses who were two of the seven hundred the island housed.

And apparently the manure that many horses produced was their number two export, no pun intended.

The road wound its way uphill, and I noticed a small stone church nestled to the right, its steeple pointing towards the sky, while a school stood on the left, with a playground bustling with children.

Five hundred locals braved the harsh winters and the quieter off-season to call this beautiful island home year round.

During the summer months, the island's residents swelled to five thousand, mostly seasonal employees.

The bustling summer crowds on Mackinac Island might have given the impression of a tourist-only destination, but there was a sense of a strong community, making it feel more like a vibrant village than a fleeting vacation spot.

Finally, we pulled up to one of the last surviving Grand Dames of the Gilded Age.

Built in just ninety-three days, the Grand Hotel had quickly become the preeminent vacation hotspot for midwestern tourists, including elites such as Mark Twain, Thomas Edison, and Presidents Cleveland, Truman, Eisenhower, and both Roosevelt’s.

The place oozed a romantic vibe that was undeniable.

Must be why women still talked about that Christopher Reeve movie that was filmed here in the 1980s.

The sheer size and opulence of the Grand Hotel made its grandeur impossible to ignore.

The long porch, adorned with overflowing planters, stood in contrast to the stately columns proudly displaying American flags.

A green roof added a touch of nature to the elegant facade, and even the red carpet leading up the stairs to the main doors screamed luxury.

As an old Army soldier, I found it difficult to believe that I would be staying in such an upscale place.

As soon as we stepped into the Grand Hotel’s expansive lobby, a piercing, feminine shriek cut through the air, cutting through the hushed atmosphere and causing all heads to turn in the direction of the sound.

“You’re here!” Kat was engulfed in a hug from the overly enthusiastic bride-to-be as her fiancé stood back, watching Tria’s antics with an indulgent smile.

“Hey man,” I said, giving my best friend a hearty handshake and a broad grin.

“Glad you could make it,” Todd replied, a smile tugging at his lips as the women’s excited chatter filled the air.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And I meant that wholeheartedly.

Since that first meeting in kindergarten, Todd and I had been the best of friends, sharing countless memories in the years since.

The majority of memories were good, but some, especially those from our time together in the Army, were marked by the fatigue, stress, and danger we experienced.

After a few moments of conversation, a familiar, grating voice cut through the air, instantly making my jaw clench.

“This place is ridiculous. There are flowers everywhere. Fuck. Even the carpet has flowers.” My gaze lowered to my feet.

It was true, the black carpet was accented with red flowers, matching the red flower boxes outside.

“They’re geraniums,” Tria announced.

“I don’t give a fuck. Why did you choose Mackinac of all places for this fucking wedding?” He questioned without any thought for tact, as was typical for him.

Kat, exasperated, said, “It's pronounced Mackin-aw,” as if explaining it to a child. “Not Mackin-ak.”

“Well, if it isn’t the scaredy Kat.” Scott Chambers’s words, laced with amusement and derision, made his sister, Stephanie, burst into giggles as he mentioned the ridiculous nickname.

Scott and his sister, both as vapid as the other, had been part of our lives since we were children, but our relationship with the siblings was characterized by tension.

We wouldn’t have even considered giving them the time of day if it hadn’t been for our parents all being friends and business associates.

Seeing that duo tormenting Kat always made my blood boil.

They clearly had her marked as an easy target, which I never understood.

Her bold and assertive demeanor during our exchanges left no doubt about her strength of character and her resolute spirit.

No matter what I threw at her, she always met it with grit and determination, never backing down.

The Chambers’ power over her was puzzling; she seemed to shrink under their gaze, her fear a palpable presence. Her vulnerability always triggered a primal instinct in me, making me want to protect her at all costs.

“How was the boat ride over, Kat?” Stephanie's question was laced with a hint of maliciousness, making it more of a taunt than a genuine inquiry. The tone of her voice immediately ignited my protective instincts, making me feel the need to defend shield Kat even though I didn’t understand the underlying tension driving the situation.

“Hope it wasn't too rocky,” Scott said, his words instantly putting me on edge.

I didn’t think it was possible, but Kat seemed to shrink even further, her shoulders slumping and her head drooping like a wilting flower.

Their interrogation appeared to have a visible effect on Kat; compelling her stature to diminish as if she were trying to disappear altogether, and the color drained from her face, leaving it as white as a sheet.

“It was fine,” she answered tersely before turning to Tria. “I’m gonna head up to my room and get ready for dinner.”

"Okay," Tria said, her eyes on her friend, worried. “Want me to come with you?”

“No. I’m just gonna take a long shower. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Kat took hold of the handle of her suitcase and left, the Chambers’ laughter trailing after her like a malicious parting gift.

Tria turned on the pair as soon as Kat was out of sight. “This is my wedding,” she growled at them. “Consider this my one and only warning: if I hear either of you taunting her again, I will not be happy.”

With the unsaid threat hanging in the air, Stephanie huffed. “Whatever. Come on, Scott. Let’s go check out the stores.”

Scott's grin was wide and almost mocking, as if he could sense my confusion and anger. He gave me a two-fingered salute, a mocking grin on his face, and then followed Stephanie out of the lobby.

“What the hell was that all about?” Todd asked, voicing my thoughts exactly.

Tria hedged. “I don’t know.” It was a blatant lie, and we all knew it.

“Tria,” Todd scolded.

A sigh slipped out from between her pursed lips. “I promised I’d never tell.”

“Tell us,” I pleaded. The need to know what put that fear into Kit’s eyes was overwhelming. “We just want to know so that maybe we can help her.”

Her eyes flickered, and I could almost hear the gears clicking as she mulled it over in her mind. Finally, she began to speak, her voice heavy with resignation, and as the story unfolded, a burning anger grew within me.

“I took Kat kayaking once. She’d always wanted to try it and begged me to take her.

She was nervous, but she seemed to be doing well.

We got separated. When I caught sight of her again, Scott and Stephanie were surrounding her, rocking her kayak pretty badly.

God, the fear I could see on her face . . . I’ll never forget it.

“She got flipped upside down and Scott and Stephanie left her like that, laughing as they paddled away. I was too far away to do anything quickly. She was under for so long. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't manage to turn herself the right way up again. It took me forever to reach her. When I did, I thought for sure she was dead. Thankfully, she can hold her breath for a long time. I got her out and back to shore. Ever since then, she’s been afraid of boats.”

“Where were we?” Todd asked. I wondered the same thing. That was the type of activity we’d normally all do together.

“You had already left for the Army.”

“Shit,” Todd growled. “Why didn’t she ever say anything?”

Shaking her head, Tria let out a sigh of frustration. “I think she was embarrassed. You know her. She hates being seen as weak.”

“Too stubborn for her own good,” Todd mumbled.

I had to agree, but I liked that about her.

She didn’t let much defeat her. If she struggled with something, she kept at it until she conquered it.

The fact that this fear of boats was still affecting her proved how frightened she must have been that day.

I wanted to hunt Scott and Stephanie down and give them a taste of their own medicine.

Years had passed, but they continued to taunt her, revealing the depths of their spiteful personalities.

“I was worried the ferry ride with the crappy weather today would have been too much for her.” She put a hand on my arm, her touch light, and said, “But she told me you distracted her. How did you know?”

“I didn’t know about what happened,” I answered. “She looked tense. I’d seen men during my Army days on the verge of panic attacks. She had that same look. Distraction usually helped them, so I figured it’d work on her too.”

“Thanks for that, Owen. If she could manage to get past her embarrassment, I’m sure she would let you know how much she appreciated your help.”

I snorted. My Kit was never one to willingly accept my help for anything.

She’d fight me tooth and nail before she’d ever admit defeat.

I understood her all too well. After all, I’ve put up with her prickly attitude toward me for decades.

And my infatuation with her deepened, fueled by her endearing traits, which I found increasingly captivating.

Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands. I often wondered what she would do if she knew the depth of my feelings for her.

Feeling the weight of Todd's gaze on me, I glanced up and met his knowing eyes, which made me feel like he knew my secret. Though we never talked about it, the way he looked at me, a hint of suspicion in his eyes, made me certain he knew I was drawn to his little sister.