Page 24 of Lost Memories (Secrets of Mackinac Island 1)

“It’s Mackinac Island,” Elise whispered.

“What? Where’s that?” Penny asked. “Is it out east?”

“Nope. Michigan, apparently,” Elise returned.

“Huh. Well, it’s gorgeous. We should go there,” Penny said.

“You’re right. We should.” Elise felt the heaviness of these words in her heart of hearts.

The heaviness only grew as the movie continued—as both Jane Seymour’s Elise and Christopher Reeves’ Richard fell deeper in love. As they both fell into chaos. As they fell into heartache.

“Wow,” Penny breathed after it was over. “That was heavy. Really heavy.”

Elise tapped her cheeks, mopping up her tears.

“Crazy that she was called Elise. It’s such a rare name to hear in movies,” Penny said.

“Yeah. It’s crazy,” Elise said.And probably not a coincidence,she wanted to add. For whatever reason, she wanted to continue to keep this all to herself.

Was Christopher Reeves, her father?

No. She analyzed his face again on her phone. She had nothing of that big and superhero-worthy chin. She had nothing of his eyes. Brad looked nothing like him, despite his handsomeness.

No. Christopher Reeves’ had genes that were bound to stick around. They didn’t have them.

But who?

Penny soon forgot about Somewhere in Time and changed the film to another chick flick. This left Elise time to dive back into the diary.

We arrived at Mackinac Island this week. I can honestly say it’s more beautiful than California. Seriously. I know it doesn’t keep its summertime glow forever and maybe that’s the reason it’s so loved. Everything about it is fleeting.

I’m staying with Jane in the Grand Hotel, which is this truly old, seemingly-haunted and enormous hotel overlooking the water. A lot of the film will be filmed here, as well, which is funny; it’s almost as though our life is imitating the art, and vice versa.

I had dinner with Jane and Christopher Reeves and his assistant last night. Oh my gosh, his assistant, his hilarious—this handsome guy from East LA. He kept doing these imitations of Christopher Reeves, pretending to be superman. Mr. Reeves thought it was funny. He’s really good-natured.

At this, Elise paused and clenched her eyes tight. She’d forgotten this, but years later, Christopher Reeves was involved in a horrible horseback riding accident. It was strange to feel him behind the pages of her mother’s words. She’d known him before his tragedy, as he and Jane had playfully created a movie about a fictional tragedy.

The island is truly something. I will tell you that. It’s small but so vibrant. In the mornings before Jane needs me, I go hiking alone—to Arch Rock, to the top of the island, down toward the further side which seems relatively uninhabited, and then back around. I feel really active, really alive—and maybe, just maybe, it’s because I’m finally away from California. It’s not like I don’t want to go back. Heck, my career lives and dies by California.

It’s just that, after my parents’ deaths, I think I needed some kind of break.

Elise flicked through several more pages. She felt as though she couldn’t gobble up the words quick enough.

Of course, much of my day is spent on set. It’s not like I want to be anywhere else; as an actress, this arena is where my heart belongs. But days grow so terribly long. I feel that I could tell each and every actor and actress on set what to do or where to go or what to say next. I’m that entrenched in the script.

They hired a staging company for the set. It’s been fun to chat with those guys a bit. Some of them are from the island; some of them were hired from a sister staging company in Chicago and asked to come up here. Every single one of them loves to drink—and they keep little flasks in their pockets and tease one another through the day. The sets are rather elaborate, as we’re meant to be “back in time” to 1910 or thereabouts.

Because there’s a great deal of downtime, I find myself flirting with these strong and artistic guys. They’re around my age, maybe a bit older—and they’re constantly teasing me and asking me why I’m not actually in the film.

When one of these guys actually demanded it of me, Jane heard! I was mortified. Her eyes scanned me up and down. She then walked in this regal, beautiful way toward the casting director, where she whispered in his ear.

Within the hour, they’d asked me to dress in some of the clothing they had set aside for extras. For the rest of the day, I had to walk up and down the same stretch of fake sidewalk, pretending to be a proper lady from 1910. Those boys from the staging company were in absolute stitches! I didn’t know what to do. Of course, I was thankful for the exposure—thankful to them and to Jane—but it was also so boring!

Mid-way through the scene, it was suggested that I need some sort of man to walk alongside me. One of the staging boys was conned into it. He donned a top hat and a gorgeous suit and he drew out his elbow and allowed me to latch my arm around it.

I seriously could have lost my mind. Naturally, they picked the most handsome of all the staging guys. He introduced himself as Dean, apparently one of the guys from Chicago. He had an especially Chicago accent, as well—a bit brash, a bit arrogant, and heart-wrenchingly handsome.

We got to chatting between takes. Of course, we did. I could feel Jane Seymour’s eyes upon us as we teased each other and pretended to be lords and ladies from a different time period altogether.

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