With Christmas In His Heart

Christine Powers clung to the railing of the ferry, chilled to the bone yet hot under the collar, a clicheacute; her father often used. Her father. Her parents. How could she begrudge them an anniversary cruise? Yet while they swayed in the tropic breezes, she had been trapped into this freezing trip to Mackinac Island to care for her grandmother. Important projects were piled on her desk back in Southfield. Her clients' deadlines had been pushed back as much as they could be so she could make the trip that had rankled her from the moment her father had asked. She loved her grandmother. She loved her parents. But she also loved her career, and putting it in jeopardy hadn't sat well with her. The ferry bumped against the pier, giving her a jolt, and Christine watched a crew member toss a line to a dockhand. Her gaze moved up the long wooden pier to the island town. Through the swirling snowflakes she could see Fort Mackinac sitting proudly on a hill, its white concrete walls providing a barricade when, hundreds of years earlier, many nations entered the Michigan waters to take over the island. In the summer, Christine loved Mackinac Island. She loved its history and landscape and the uniqueness that captured tourists from all over. But she didn't love it now--not when she felt mired in the midst of too many projects that needed completion. She had advertising copy to edit, two ad campaigns to finalize and a new client to impress. The Dorset account would make her shine in the eyes of her firm. A ragged sigh escaped, leaving a billow of white breath hanging on the air. She lifted her shoulders and grasped her carry-on bag, determined to get through the next few days. When she heard the clang of the gangway, she maneuvered through the expansive benches toward the front of the boat to disembark. As she neared, she surveyed the prow, where she hoped to see her other bag, but the area stood bare. A crewman flagged her forward, and she stepped onto the slippery ramp, clutching the railing until her feet hit the pier. "Careful," a crewman called. She muttered a thank-you and had taken two steps forward when her foot slipped on the icy planking. She skidded, her arms flailing while her carry-on bag landed on the pier. A hand grasped her arm to steady her, and the crew member who'd warned her gave her a knowing grin. She managed a smile--better than screaming--and retrieved her bag. She took guarded steps toward the ferry exit, where she eyed a workman unloading the luggage. She looked through the feathery flakes, praying hers was there and not left back in Mackinaw City. If she weren't so stressed, the snowfall would be appealing. The soft flakes drifted past her, twirling on the frigid breeze that streamed off the straits. Why would anyone want to live on an island so isolated in the winter? By the beginning of January their only escape would be by air until the ice bridge was ready. A shiver ran through her as she stepped beneath the enclosure and reached the ferry's cargo. Her worry eased when she spotted her suitcase. She set down her small bag and tugged at her luggage beneath the other baggage. "Let me help." Her focus shifted to the stranger who'd stepped beside her. She jumped at his closeness, then was thrown off guard by his wide grin. "Thanks. I have it." She gave another determined tug and settled the suitcase beside her, pulled up the handle and tried to connect the carry-on bag to the larger piece. The man didn't move from the spot. He shook his head as he watched, then gave a chuckle when her carry-on slipped to the ground. If she hadn't been so irked, she would have enjoyed his smile, but his laughter rubbed her the wrong way. "That wasn't funny. My laptop's in there." "Sorry," he said, looking less than sorry with his boyish grin and snapping dark eyes. "I assume you're Christine Powers. I've been waiting for you."[read more]