The EmmaLee Affairs Read online

  THE EMMALEE AFFAIRS

  One grand ship. Two love affairs decades apart. An idyllic summer resort town torn apart by betrayal and murder.

  An Amazon #1 selection for Historical Fiction Mystery & Suspense.

  A novel by

  MICHAEL LINDLEY

  Sage River Press

  Novels by Michael Lindley

  THE “TROUBLED WATERS” SERIES

  THE EMMALEE AFFAIRS

  (Formerly published as The Seasons of the EmmaLee)

  THE SUMMER TOWN

  BEND TO THE TEMPEST

  (Formerly published as Grayton Winds)

  LIES WE NEVER SEE

  A FOLLOWING SEA

  DEATH ON THE NEW MOON

  Michael Lindley Amazon Author Page

  https://michaellindleynovels.com/

  The EmmaLee on Round Lake in Charlevoix, Michigan

  DEDICATION

  This first novel is dedicated to both my mother who always encouraged my writing and to my father who taught me how to hit a curveball. ML

  “We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.”

  - William Somerset Maugham

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  New Beginnings

  A Note From Michael Lindley

  An Invitation To Share Michael Lindley Novels

  Also By Michael Lindley

  About The Author

  Prologue

  The old man stumbled in the loose gravel as his white dog ran past on the worn trail. He walked slowly, measuring his pace. The cork handles of two fishing poles were familiar and smooth in one hand, a small green tackle box in the other. His grandson walked up ahead, throwing a stick and yelling encouragement when the dog ran after it into the water along the shallows of the bay. They were making their way out to North Point to fish along the quiet inlet off Lake Michigan. The early morning light from the sun coming up through the tall cedars and cottonwoods sent long shadows out over the low flats behind the shore where stagnant water lay calm around the rocks and grasses. The sky was clear and the color of soft shades of blue out across the lake down to the far horizon where a low bank of fog met the water. He could hear the distant crash of waves from the big lake rolling up onshore on the far side of the bay.

  His wife had fussed at him for waking the boy so early to go fishing. She woke to make them breakfast to send them on their way. Her buckwheat pancakes and warm maple syrup had become a tradition when their grandson came to visit, but the boy was only half awake through most of the meal.

  Off to the man’s left, the tall dunes rose up from the lake, covered with heavy cedar forest and scrub. Ahead lay the quiet round bay, cut into the land for a thousand years by weather and ice.

  The green water off across the lake to the north was patterned with rolling white-capped swells. Large boulders were pushed up all along the edges of the bay and the waves washed over them leaving them wet and shining. He knew the fish would hold in along the deep drop-offs by the north shore.

  He called to the boy and pointed to the right where another trail led out to the spot he wanted to fish. The dog heard the call and her ears perked up. She had been out here with the old man for many years and knew where he wanted to go. The boy and the dog came back and ran up the new trail.

  When the old man came out around a stand of low brush, he saw the boy and the dog standing by the shore. The dog was sniffing something lying along the water break on the beach. The boy stood back and watched. As the man approached, he squinted to see what the dog was after.

  “Bobby, what’s she got there?”

  The boy didn’t answer and started backing away. The dog spooked back and was barking, running around with the white fur hackles behind its collar sticking straight up.

  As the old man came closer, he felt an overwhelming sense of fear rush through him and he yelled to the boy, “Bobby, come back over here!”

  His grandson continued to back away slowly and the old man quickened his pace and rushed by the boy to try to reach his dog. As he came nearer, he could see it was the body of a young woman lying pale against the sand and rocks in the shallow water of the bay. Her clothes were lying scattered nearby and her head was face down in the water, the waves pushing her hair in loose swirls as they swept up onto the shore.

  Chapter One

  It was a glorious morning with waves running in slow climbing swells. The wind was quartering gently out of the southwest. The weather radar was clear all the way across Lake Michigan to Wisconsin and the sun, just making its way above the hills onshore, warmed the coming day.

  Alex Clark stood on the bridge of the EmmaLee with his crew captain and twelve-year-old daughter, Megan. They left Mackinaw Island earlier in the morning for the last leg of their journey to Charlevoix, Michigan. Now, just out from the southern point of Little Traverse Bay, they could see the lighthouse on the end of the channel pier leading into the harbor at Charlevoix not more than a mile off in the distance.

  He was dressed comfortably in tan slacks with a white golf shirt all the crew wore. The name of his boat, EmmaLee, was printed on the front. The early traces of gray touched at his brown hair. His skin was darkly tanned from the past few weeks on the boat and his eyes were a soft green, almost the color of the lake in the early morning light. It was a face that had graced many magazine covers over the years as his business continued to grow.

  To the east, the coastline was framed with tall sand dunes spilling down into the deep blue and green water of Lake Michigan. The dunes were crested with scattered pines and cottonwoods set off against the sky and the roofs of a few homes could be seen tucked back in the clearings. Looking out to the west, Alex could see the endless series of white-capped waves rolling relentlessly towards them across a hundred miles of open water.

  Within the past hour a steady procession of boats of all shapes and sizes had come out to greet the Emmalee and accompany them into Charlevoix. They were surrounded now by dozens of boats to each side and to the stern. They could already see a huge crowd milling about up ahead on the piers on both sides of the channel. A flare pistol was fired from the end of the pier and it startled Megan. She grabbed her father’s hand and gripped it firmly. She wore a navy blue sweatshirt with the name EmmaLee printed on the front in bold white letters. The flare was followed by several minutes of fireworks coming from a barge anchored just offshore from the channel.

  Alex looked down at his daughter and smiled. “I guess we’re in the right place.” He squeezed her hand and thought of her mother and how he wished she could be with them. Megan had so many traits from her mother. Her e
yes and hair held the same color and luster, both a deep brown. His wife had been gone nearly three years now. Cancer had taken her from them. It was a time he could remember now as only dark and full of overwhelming fear and he forced those thoughts back deep within himself as he had to do so often.

  “Megan, let’s go up on the bow.” He led her out through the bridge cabin door and along the deck up to the massive bow of the ship. “This is EmmaLee’s old home, honey. She spent her early days here.”

  “I think she’s very happy to be back, Daddy.”

  They stood at the rail at the point of the bow and watched the huge wake push out from the ship’s hull. The accompanying boats started to blow their horns when they saw Alex and Megan moving forward on the ship’s deck and they both waved back enthusiastically.

  “Will the real Emily be here today to welcome us?” the little girl asked.

  “No dear, Emily Compton died many years ago.”

  “Is she in heaven with Mommy?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she is.”

  At the end of the south pier at the base of the tall red lighthouse, George Hansen stood in front of a huge crowd that stretched all the way back along the pier to the drawbridge at Bridge Street in town. He wore a blue sport coat with a Venetian Festival badge on the breast pocket. Wisps of his gray hair blew in the light breeze. Across the channel a similar crowd had gathered on the north break wall. He fired the flare gun out over the lake to signal the start of the welcoming ceremony and the fireworks exploded up from the barge out in the lake. Even in the bright morning light they were spectacular against the deep blue sky. The deafening sound of the bursts above were mixed with boat horns and cheering people.

  George could see the EmmaLee clearly now off to the north of the channel. She was slowing to make her final approach. Even among the many other boats surrounding her, she stood apart not only in size, but also in majesty, he thought. He felt a chill surge within him. What a marvelous day!

  He was joined by family and friends, and thousands of other local residents and visitors who had come out this morning for the special event. There would be parades and other ceremonies and banquets later for the EmmaLee and for the Venetian Festival week, but these first moments of her return were the most anticipated. The ship had last been seen in these waters in the fall of 1952. Now, she was returning over sixty years later, restored to her original splendor. George was anxious to get the ship into the dock in Round Lake and to go aboard and meet her new owner in person. Old memories of the ship came back to him and he thought about the effect it had on so many people he knew and loved.

  Standing at his side was another special guest for the day. He looked at the woman now and saw tears in her eyes. He reached out and took her hand. She turned and smiled at him and whispered, “Thank you.”

  A few minutes later, the captain of the EmmaLee brought her about to the east to guide her into the channel. The many boats alongside her slowly dropped back to follow. As the large white ship first entered the channel, George Hansen saw Alex Clark and his daughter out on the bow, and he saluted them in welcome. Onboard they saw him and waved back with broad smiles.

  “She’s more beautiful than I ever remembered,” George said, more to himself than to those around him. The cheering from the crowd continued to grow and everyone was waving back to the people on the deck of the EmmaLee. The great ship, nearly two hundred feet at the waterline, made her way slowly down the channel towards town. The rest of the ship’s crew stood on the rear deck dressed in their official gear, enjoying the morning’s events and waving to the crowds.

  George motioned to those around him, “Let’s go, we need to get down to the docks.”

  The Captain sounded the EmmaLee ship’s horn to signal the bridge keeper to raise the drawbridge up ahead at the entrance into Round Lake. George saw the massive blue sections of the bridge slowly lift to make way for the ship’s entrance into the harbor. The entire crowd slowly made their way back along the pier trying to keep up with the EmmaLee.

  A special mooring had been reserved for the EmmaLee along the docks where the Coast Guard Cutter Acacia had rested for so many years. A large decorated gangplank stood poised to be lowered to the deck of the ship as it came alongside the dock. Banners hung from each side reading Welcome Home EmmaLee. Lines were thrown to men on the dock and the ship slid gracefully into place along the wooden pier. The lines were secured and the gangplank lowered into place.

  George Hansen and his welcoming party had come down through the dense and cheering crowds. They walked up the gangplank to greet Alex Clark who was standing at the ship’s rail with his daughter.

  George reached out his hand, “Welcome to Charlevoix, Mr. Clark, and welcome to you, young lady. You must be Megan? I’m George Hansen and I have the privilege of being the chairman of the Venetian Festival.” He shook both their hands. “And welcome home to you, Miss EmmaLee,” he said, looking down the long expanse of the ship’s deck.

  The Charlevoix High School marching band began playing America, the Beautiful, their music barely heard above the roar of the crowd.

  Alex Clark returned the handshake, “Thank you, Mr. Hansen. This welcome is overwhelming. I can’t thank you enough for inviting us to bring the EmmaLee back to Charlevoix. Your town is beautiful and all these people, it’s just unbelievable. Come aboard!”

  George came on deck with five other members of the Festival committee who he introduced to the town’s new guests. Then he motioned for one other to join him at the front of the group. A tall and striking woman who looked to be in her forties came up and stood beside him, dressed simply in a blue cotton dress cut just above the knees and sleeveless, exposing long arms and firm shoulders. Her blonde hair was gathered in back and a few loose strands fluttered around her face in the wind.

  “Alex Clark and Megan, I would like you to meet Emily Compton’s daughter, Sally Thomason,” George Hansen said in introduction.

  Alex Clark reached out his hand in greeting to the woman. Her grip was firm, and he found himself a bit off balance. He hesitated a moment, not anticipating meeting any of the past owners’ family. When he had gathered himself, he said, “Sally, it’s nice to meet you. I’m so glad you could come for this homecoming.”

  Sally Thomason released her grip and smiled, “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Alex. My mother told me so many stories about this ship and her love for the EmmaLee.”

  “Did you come far for the Festival?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, laughing. “Just a few blocks actually. I live up on the big lake just north of the channel.”

  “Well, I’m sure you would like to see what we’ve done with the ‘Old Lady’. Did you ever have an opportunity to see her before?”

  “No, I wasn’t born when the EmmaLee left Charlevoix. I knew she was being kept out East, but I just didn’t want to see her in that condition. I was thrilled to hear you were working on restoring her. She looks magnificent. My parents and my grandparents would be very pleased at all you’ve done.”

  She reached down and greeted young Megan, taking her hand. “My mother would have been about your age when she used to cruise on the EmmaLee.”

  “I’m sorry she’s dead and can’t be here today,” the little girl said with stern sincerity. My daddy says she’s in heaven with my Mommy.”

  Alex was embarrassed and began to say something, but Sally answered quickly, “I’m sorry your mother is gone, too. They both would have loved this day, I’m sure, Megan.”

  Alex smiled at his daughter, then at Sally Thomason. “We have a cocktail reception onboard planned for later this afternoon and I know George has invited all of you to attend, but can I take you on a quick tour right now?”

  George spoke first, “Absolutely!”

  Alex led the group up onto the foredeck, speaking as he walked along the rail. “I happened upon the EmmaLee one day when I was down at the boatyard in Newport for the first time. I had moved my
sailboat over from another location and was wandering around to get familiar with the place. The EmmaLee was tied up at an old pier hidden by a dozen old boats up on cradles. I have to say she was in pretty bad shape. Sitting out in the elements for all those years had taken quite a toll on her.”

  He turned to face his guests as they assembled at the front of the ship. Megan stood by his side holding his hand. “I immediately fell in love with her even though she looked like an abandoned shipwreck. In a way, I guess she was. It took a while, but I finally managed to pull all the strings to buy her and arrange for her reconditioning. It was one of the most amazing projects I’ve ever been involved with. We did our best to restore her to her original condition. We saved as much of the wood surfaces and planking as we could, but a lot of dry rot had to be replaced. The interior was a bit easier. The engines were far beyond hope and we’ve given her a new power plant. You’ll notice the instrumentation is also much more advanced than what she had back in the early days. She’s really rigged now to cruise overseas. I’m planning a cruise to the Mediterranean with her next year.”

  George Hansen spoke up, “Why did the past owners leave her abandoned for so long?”

  “I’m told they ran into financial difficulties. The ship needed quite a bit of work at the time and they couldn’t find a buyer willing to take her off their hands and pay for the extensive repairs that were needed. She really should have been scuttled long ago, but fortunately no one wanted to spend the money to dispose of her.”

  Alex continued to lead the tour throughout the ship, pointing out the special work that had been done in many areas. They finished back at the side rail about an hour later. Large crowds were still milling about the docks admiring the ship.