Chapter 7
The hair on the back of Harlow’s neck shot straight up. She stood on the edge of Wynn Harbor Inn’s dock, staring out into the water, calling her mother’s name. Mom! Mom!
Thunk. Harlow froze. The sound. Someone was coming. The bushes rustled. They were getting closer. It wasn’t Gwendolyn. Her mother would’ve answered.
“Harlow!” A man called her name. Was it Robert? It didn’t sound like her husband. A bolt of pure adrenaline coursed through her veins. She pivoted and took off running at breakneck speed.
Fast steps closed in. Whoever was chasing her was gaining ground.
So close, she could almost feel their hot, heavy breath. All they had to do was reach out and grab her. And then what? The cottage…she was almost to the cottage. A few more feet and she would be safe at home.
Sharp nails clawed at her neck. Her pursuer grabbed hold of her shirt and yanked her back, nearly lifting her off her feet. Harlow could feel herself falling…falling to the ground.
A splash of water poured over her hand. Warm, sticky water.
Harlow bolted upright in bed, her heart racing. It was a dream. Only a dream. It was the same one she had during periods of extreme duress. Being pursued by an unknown man and always ending abruptly. As soon as her attacker grabbed hold of her, pulling her back, she started to fall and woke up.
She slowly turned her head, coming nose to snout with a fluffy gray and white dog. Tufts of shaggy fur sprouted out on his chin. He stood staring up at her…or more like staring across from he r, considering he was almost eye level. “Did you just lick me?”
The pup sank down on all fours and placed his head on his paws. The fur above his eyes wiggled up and down as he studied her.
Harlow was home. Not Malibu or Palm Beach home, but Mackinac Island home. Her father’s house. “I didn’t know Dad had a dog.” She glanced at the clock, discovering she’d been asleep for almost two hours.
A familiar faint sound echoed from the living room. It was her father, whistling a tune she’d heard many times growing up.
A happy tune, one she knew by heart. Harlow threw back the covers and scooted from the bed to her wheelchair. All the while, the dog watched her like a hawk.
She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing out her tousled locks. After a quick check in the mirror, she wheeled herself into the living room .
Whoo…whoo…who, who, who, whoo…whoo…who. She joined in, whistling the last line of Yankee Doodle along with her father.
He stood near the front window, adjusting the blinds against the setting sun. The tune ended and Harlow broke out into a spontaneous round of applause. “I haven’t heard that song in forever.”
“Probably since the last time we whistled it.” Wynn checked the angle of the blinds, filtering in the light. “How was your nap?”
“Fabulous. I slept like a baby.” Harlow didn’t mention the bad dream, not wanting her dad to think it had something to do with him. The pup trotted over and plopped down beside her. “Is this your dog?”
“I suppose you could say that. Mort showed up on my doorstep one day and never left. Let me guess. He slobbered all over you.”
“Only my hand. Mort, huh?” Harlow playfully ruffled his ears. “I’m shocked you have a dog. You were adamant about not letting me have one growing up, no matter how much I begged.”
“We were too busy back then. Besides…like I said, this is all on Mort. He’s the one who made the first move and found me.” Her father told her he’d checked to see if he was chipped and posted flyers around the island, but no one had claimed him. “I guess you could say we adopted each other.”
“He’s a friendly fella.”
“Mort keeps me company. I have a surprise.” Her father hurried out of the living room, returning moments later cruising in on a brand spanking new bright blue mobility scooter. “You’re going to be riding around in style.”
“It got here fast.”
“I put a rush on the delivery.” He parked the scooter near the door. “While you were sleeping, I built a ramp and figured we could take this baby out for a spin after dinner. I also picked up a shower chair at the hardware store while I was in town.”
Harlow hung her head. She didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve her father’s care and concern after so many years of shunning him. A wave of shame washed over her. Shame over her behavior. “Thank you. I’ll reimburse you.”
“You don’t have to.”
Harlow lifted her hand. “Seriously. I insist. I have more than enough money to pay for what I need.” Having taken a closer look around, she suspected money was tight, which made sense.
The inn was shut down. No inn = no income. In fact, now that she really thought about it, she wondered if her father had ever considered selling the property.
Surely, the local zoning department hadn’t turned a blind eye to the fact some of the inn’s structures were uninhabitable and unsafe. Although most of the fire damage…the lodge, re staurant, reception area, hotel rooms connected to the main structure weren’t visible from the street.
A few of the other cottages, only steps away, had also burned when the billowing flames blew across the road and caught the roofs on fire.
Harlow continued. “I’m more than able to pay for equipment, therapy, and my expenses while I’m here. I already feel guilty knowing I’m imposing.”
“You’re not imposing,” Wynn gruffly replied. “You’re my daughter and I love you.”
So many wasted years blaming her dad for the fire. It still didn’t explain who was behind it, but she was beginning to think she’d been wrong, so very wrong, for blaming him. “I have a lot to apologize for, Dad. When Mom died, I couldn’t…”
Her father cut her off. “We can talk about it later. Our number one priority is to get you up and out of the wheelchair. There will be plenty of time to hash over the past, but not today. ”
He was right. There would be time to have a heart-to-heart. She forced a smile and dusted her hands. “I’m ready to take my fancy new set of wheels for a spin.”
David guided her from the wheelchair to the scooter. He helped lift one leg and then the other onto the footrest. “How does it feel?”
Harlow wiggled her toes. “Weird, but in a good way. Having to move me from one place to the other is going to get old.”
“I’ve done some research. The scooter company also sells an electric transfer chair. It comes apart in the middle and the seat slides under you. It then scoops you up and moves you from one spot to another, although the model I saw was a little pricey.”
She moved her legs, testing their strength. “I won’t need it. I plan on walking soon. In fact, I’m going to contact the therapist today.” Harlow gingerly squeezed the throttle. The scooter lurched forward .
Her father jumped out of the way. “Harlow is on the move.”
Mort scrambled to his feet and skittered off to the side.
She giggled. “This could be fun.”
“Or dangerous.” David motioned to the kitchen. “I have a pot roast in the crock-pot. It won’t be ready for at least another hour, which means we have plenty of time to take this baby out for a test drive.”
“We can right after I set up an appointment with the physical therapist.” Harlow made quick work of calling the specialist Doctor Ashton had recommended. The person on the other end of the line apologized, explaining the woman was booked solid and no longer accepting patients.
“I would be happy to take your name and see if Evelyn recommends someone else if you need therapy right away. ”
“The sooner the better. Thank you.” Harlow rattled off her name and cell phone number.
There was silence on the other end of the line. Harlow thought they’d been disconnected. “Hello?”
“I-I’m here. Did you say your name was Harlow Wynn?”
“Yes. I was involved in a car accident and need physical therapy.”
“The Harlow Wynn?”
Harlow had heard the question multiple times, more times than she could count. “I suppose there could be another Harlow Wynn,” she joked. “As far as I know, there’s only one me.”
“W-well, Doctor Maddox might be able to squeeze you in. Can I put you on hold for a minute?”
“Sure.”
Elevator music ensued.
Her father stood watching. “What’s going on? ”
“The therapist isn’t taking new patients. I think the receptionist is checking to see if she can somehow squeeze me in.”
The receptionist came back on the line. “Ms. Wynn?”
“I’m here.”
“I spoke with the doctor. She said she can meet with you tomorrow morning. It would be early, before her first regularly scheduled appointment at ten.”
“That would be wonderful. Where is your office?”
The woman gave her the address, which was on the mainland, in nearby Mackinaw City. “She can pencil you in for eight thirty.”
“I’ll be there.” Harlow promised the woman she would forward copies of the hospital’s records and thanked her before ending the call. She triumphantly waved her cell phone in the air. “There are times being a household name has its advantages. We have an appointment in Mackinaw City tomorrow morning at eight thirty.”
“I figured once they found out who you were, you wouldn’t have any trouble finding someone.”
“Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough.” Harlow dropped her cell phone in the scooter’s front basket. “I’m ready to roll.”