North Country Man
Some call him hermit Others call him hero Noah Saari is a North Country ManA few years ago, Noah left the woods of Michigan, ready to make a difference in the world. After a tragic accident, he came back–blamed by some, pitied by others, misunderstood by all. Now the only thing he wants is to be left alone.Then one night, Claire Levander stumbles across his path. Claire's not made for the backwoods–she's a businesswoman whose idea of the perfect vacation spot is a well-stocked resort. And although he doesn't know it, she has a plan that could change the lives of the few people in his hometown he still cares about. Even worse is the fact that she just might change his.
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Alouette, Michigan. Located high on the Upper Peninsula.
Home to strong men, stalwart women and lots and lots of trees. If you come, bring your camera—you won’t believe the number of stars in our skies or the color of our sunsets. And if you’re lucky, you might just meet a cute critter or two. But remember: The U.P. is not like anywhere else. We even have our own language. Don’t worry, though. It’s easy to learn. Here are a couple of pointers:
YOOPER: resident of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula (aka the U.P.)
FOURTH OF JULY: Yooper summer.
HOLY WAH!: Yooper exclamation.
TROLL: resident of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula (below the Mackinac Bridge).
FINNISH TERMS:
MUMMU: grandmother
PIKKU: little (girl)
RIIESKA: half bread, half biscuit—all good
SISU: character, grit, spunk—Finnish-style
SAUNA: steam bath (aka Finnish religion)
VIHTA: switch made of birch branches
Dear Reader,
This book was a long time in coming. Ever since I began writing for Harlequin, I’ve intended to set a book in my hometown area, the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. But it had to be the right story, the right setting and the right characters….
Noah and Claire are it—big and bold and brave. And Bay House is it, so real to me on the cliff overlooking Lake Superior that I just might try to check in. As for the town of Alouette and the supporting cast—well, they’re completely fictional, but also entirely familiar. I hope you recognize a little bit of your own hometown in them.
Please look for my forthcoming Superromance stories about the people of Alouette. If you’d like to know more, visit my new Web site at www.carriealexander.com, where you can get the inside scoop and secret family recipes for lumberjack cookies and riieska.
Forever a Yooper,
Carrie Alexander
To the gang at the RFF:
For the laughs, the names, the trouble, the chats (pass the peanuts), the witty banter, the randy Viking, the tales of the TBR. For everything—even the thwacker!
CONTENTS
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 ONE
“YEAH, I WANTED to get away from it all,” Claire Levander said to herself as the rental car bumpety-bumped along the ridges of the lonely two-lane country road. The blacktop had buckled like cardboard left out in the rain. “But I didn’t expect to be sent to the ends of the earth.”
Suddenly a pickup truck with a gun rack in its rear window roared by on the left. Her lungs seized as she jerked the steering wheel to the right, then fought to control her instinctive need to get away. The truck was too close.
Claire didn’t draw a proper breath until the vehicle had swung into the proper lane. The eggbeater rattle of its engine was shockingly loud with no other traffic around. She was accustomed to the efficient hum of the airport shuttles that were her normal mode of transportation to a new job.
Truthfully, it was the entire situation that had shaken her. Although she’d practically begged Drake for an easy assignment, she’d been thinking deluxe accommodations, not unrelenting rusticity. For her, country meant friendly folks, humble cottages, open farmland and a freeway to the city.
Not this—this barely civilized wilderness.
The pickup sped away, blatting stinky blue smoke from its tailpipe. The rust-eaten muffler drooped dangerously low, hanging on by a few wires.
Claire imagined that these backwoods roads were constantly littered with mufflers, tailpipes and oil pans. The country was supposed to be safe, but the odds of her getting stranded with car trouble out here in the boondocks were probably worse than being mugged on a subway.
“Drat that Drake. This is not what I need right now.” Claire clenched her fingers on the wheel and slowly eased her rental car’s tires away from the crumbling edge of the blacktop. She did not want to wind up in the ditch.
A dense, tangled forest met in a canopy over the narrow road, screening all but the ambient light of the setting sun. The snatches of sky visible through the interlaced treetops looked bruised—purple and dusky blue, faintly tinged with yellow. If she’d known her journey to the hinterlands would end like this, she’d have forgone her habit of arriving the day before a meeting and booked a morning flight. Instead, efficient as ever, she’d chosen to be early. To get the lay of the land.
Never had the phrase been so appropriate. Thus far, it was a wild, rugged, alarmingly unpopulated land. She’d driven a half hour from the airport before she’d reached a town of any consequence, then realized that she still had farther to go. Since Marquette, signs of civilization had diminished. There were no roadside conveniences. Little traffic. No habitation, either, except for the occasional driveways—if such overgrown paths could be called driveways—that led off through the woods.
“To the ends of the earth,” Claire muttered, wishing she hadn’t been quite so open with Drake about her dilemma.
