When filming finished for the day, Jane suggested that the two of us take one of the old-fashioned cars for a little drive around the island. You see—Mackinac Island normally doesn’t allow cars, but because of the filming, they have these old-fashioned cars. Dean leaped at the chance. He called himself a “car guy.” I insisted upon wearing my old-fashioned dress and feather cap. Dean mockingly helped me into the passenger seat, then rushed around and started the engine.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a more delicious ride.
Dean and I laughed the entire way across to the other side of the island. On either side of us, the water gleamed brightly, reflecting the gorgeous orange sunset. He asked me endless questions about California—saying he’d never been there, but that he hoped his staging career would take him somewhere more glamorous than Chicago. I told him to come out at any time.
And I meant it.
I suddenly felt, in these strange moments, that it was akin to that moment in Somewhere in Time when Christopher Reeves sees Jane Seymour’s old photograph for the first time—and eventually realizes that he has to travel years and years into the past to meet her.
I had this feeling about Dean that he was my past, my present, my future.
He didn’t kiss me that night.
It nearly destroyed me.
Elise’s heart lurched. She slammed the book closed and blinked into the grey light. Penny had fallen asleep beside her, her head across one of her grandmother’s old fluffy pillows.
Dean. Who worked at a staging company on Mackinac Island, by way of Chicago.
Dean.
Who was this guy?
And was it possible that he was Elise’s father?
It all added up. It had to.
Allison had named Elise because of the movie.
But why had Allison left Dean behind?
Why hadn’t Allison ever brought him up, after the life she and Elise had shared?
Why hadn’t she ever mentioned the words, “Mackinac Island”?
Why had it taken her funeral for Elise to hear anything at all?
Elise set her jaw and rose from the couch. She blinked around at the house, which required so much: packing up and cleaning and eventually selling. She remembered the day before, watching as the dirt had crumpled over her mother’s coffin.
Every single portion of Elise’s life felt as though it had come to a close.
She had writer’s block. Her screenplays weren’t selling. Her children were never coming home.
There was strangely nothing for her in California.
She had to do something.
And for reasons she couldn’t fully comprehend, she felt as though she had to go “Somewhere in Time” to understand the events of her mother’s life and the reason Elise’s father had never been around.
She had never felt such fire before. She rushed toward her mother’s computer, plugged in the charger, and immediately booked a flight for Chicago. She’d never stopped short of New York before.
Maybe, her father had returned to Chicago. Regardless if she found him at all, Elise needed to get to Mackinac Island. The glittering waters, the old-world cobblestone streets, the gorgeous trees, the secrets: they beckoned to her.
And in a week, she would be gone.
To be continued...
