Chapter 18

Elspeth

The sun was blinding and prevented me from my normally slow awakening. It took me a few moments to get acclimated, which was not entirely unexpected since I had no memory of where I’d been, then two bedrooms in quick succession. This time, however, I smiled as the memories flooded back.

I realized there were thick drapes that could close over the floor to ceiling windows and made a note to remember to close them when I went to bed later that night. I liked to wake up slowly in dim light and never before eight in the morning. I wasn’t sure if that meant that I hadn’t lived on a farm or whether I hated the early morning rituals of farm life. Some things about my inclinations just had to be accepted for what they were, no conclusions drawn.

Evidently, Finn was in the habit of sleeping in, too, for he was nowhere to be found downstairs. I went into the kitchen and the lights, also on sensors, ramped up smoothly on. I liked the effect.

I opened the walk-in refrigerator and found an unimaginable supply of food. I was afraid much of it would go bad before we could eat it. Finn didn’t seem to worry about such things but I did. That was yet another clue.

I decided from that point forward to keep the clues to myself. I didn’t want Finn watching me for reactions to every little thing. It made me feel naked and vulnerable, not to mention that clues were simply that. They weren’t definitions, and my lack of experience could easily misinterpret something.

Arming myself with a carton of eggs and a package of bacon, I found pans neatly arranged in a cupboard near the stove. Soon there were scrambled eggs with bacon, toast with jam, and two hot cups of coffee from the Keurig waiting. Finn must have awakened from the scent of the bacon and timed it perfectly.

“Would you like to eat on the enclosed deck overlooking the lake?” he asked after greeting me good morning.

“I’d love it!” I answered with enthusiasm. We made up two trays and emerged into the mid-morning light of an absolutely gorgeous day.

As we ate, Finn pointed out various landmarks down the coast and we watched a barge headed south, supposedly for the mills in northern Indiana.

“Do they go by all year long?” I asked.

“If the lake doesn’t freeze. It depends on the weather each year, but remember, they’re generally coming from the St. Lawrence or Lake Superior and it definitely freezes up there. So, you rarely see barges in the coldest part of the winter.”

I nodded and began to stack our dishes on the trays.

“I’ll help,” he said and together we cleaned up the kitchen.

“Come with me,” he said when we were done. “I have something to show you.”

I followed him out the front door and he led me to a garage at one end of the house. He pushed a button on a remote and a door opened.

“That’s for you, and no, you won’t pay me back.” He pointed inside the doorway.

I walked inside and found the most adorable red convertible. “Oh, Finn…it’s adorable! I love it! You mean it’s for me?”

“All yours. No repayment, no questions asked. Come and go as you please. And this,” he handed me a thick envelope, “goes with it.”

I looked inside and found a checkbook with my name on it and a thick stack of cash. I shook my head.

He held up his hand. “Don’t bother. It’s a gift and besides, I want to know that you’re safe should you ever find you want to leave me.”

I opened my mouth to protest that it would never happen, but then slammed it shut. I couldn’t promise that until I knew who I was. There was so much mystery that lay ahead for the two of us.

“Do you think you know how to drive?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, I know how,” I answered without hesitation. “But I don’t have a license and since we don’t know who I am, how am I going to get around that?”

“Look back in that packet. There’s a driver’s license in there, along with a debit card. I had a friend of mine…” He paused.

I had a feeling the friend was the same one he’d recently lost because he seemed to get choked up.

“Anyway, he pulled some strings and I hope you don’t mind, but he had a licensed issued to you as Elspeth Tremaine. We thought it made the most sense, under the circumstances.”

He must have seen my face because he instantly added, “You could be my sister or cousin, you know.”

I nodded and felt better.

“Well, you want to take it for a spin?” he asked.

I nodded and we got in. Just as I thought, I had no problem backing it out and even though it was a sports car with a five-speed standard transmission on the floor, I shifted through the gears easily.

“When winter comes, we’ll put this in storage and I’ll give you the Escalade to drive,” he informed me.

I shook my head once again, but he ignored me. I had a feeling that was going to become his standard response for the immediate future. I had to admit, though, that the idea of driving the Escalade appealed to me. I felt very sentimental about it.

Finn guided me to the nearby village and we parked and got out to take a look around. It was a touristy area, rife with small shops that catered to those looking for souvenirs and high-end collectibles from the Great Lakes area. I absolutely adored the atmosphere and promised myself I would come back on my own and look with more leisure.

We stopped at a café and sat at one of the gaily-covered patio tables on the sidewalk inside the winter-time glassed-in enclosure.

The waiter brought us coffees and the fabled Kringle pastries found in Wisconsin. Typically reserved for the holiday season, tourists demanded the jelly-filled, powdered sugar-topped bakery goods all year round. I found it overly sweet and only had a small taste with my coffee. Although the breeze off the water was cold and fresh, the day felt almost magical and being with Finn was the best part of all.

It seemed he was a lover of maritime history. He regaled me with stories of ships that had gone down in the Great Lakes, including the Edmund Fitzgerald, commemorated with its own song. He talked of the barges and the copper and iron they ferried south to the factories. He told me of the year it was so cold that the very deep lake still froze all the way across and if you were so inclined, you could walk from Milwaukee to Muskegon, Michigan over its ice. This made me shiver.

“Wait until summer,” he promised. “You’ll love it here. Even though there are tourists, our place is private, as is our beach. You won’t even know they’re there,” he said.

I wondered at his use of the collective we. Would I still be there at the lake house when the warmer winds arrived? Only time would tell.