by Savanna Fox
Her gaze rested on the pin then lifted to his face. She touched his cheek. “How did we lose all of that?”
Her hand was so warm, so gentle. Caring, he hoped. He took it between his and shook his head. “Not being together enough?”
“Each of us being so independent?”
“Could be.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss into her palm, and folded her fingers around it.
When he’d returned to Vancouver last Saturday, he’d believed their marriage was only worth keeping if they could recapture their passion and love. On Sunday, they’d confessed that they weren’t sure they still loved each other, or wanted to save their marriage. Now here they were: struggling through awkward conversations, experimenting with kinky sex, heading off for a weekend in snow country. He grinned at her. “Let’s go fly, sweetheart.” The endearment popped out, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d used it.
“Let’s go fly.”
Her endearment for him had been “my love.” He refused to let the fact that she didn’t use it discourage him. They both had hope, and that was more than they’d had in a long time.
He and Lily climbed out of the car and he opened the trunk. He handed her an overnight bag. “This has jeans, a sweater, and your sheepskin jacket. They’ll be more comfy for the flight.”
“Thanks.”
He hefted his duffel, her suitcase, and a shopping bag with the lunch he’d brought, and they headed for the waiting room.
“Did you arrange this with the company you’ve been flying with this week?”
“Yes, SeaSky.” Automatically, he made an assessing scan of the bright, half-full waiting room that served the companies that flew out of the public heliport. It was the usual mix of businesspeople, students, and tourists. He gave a second look to a slim brunette, twentyish, sitting alone; she looked feverish and was rubbing her head. Sure hoped she didn’t have something contagious. Not that it was his concern today, as he had only one very special passenger.
“I need to do some paperwork and a pre-flight check,” he told Lily, who was gazing out the large windows at the harbor view. “I’ll come get you in fifteen minutes.” He went behind the desk to greet a couple of SeaSky staff and fill out the necessary forms. They’d given him a Bell 206B Jet Ranger turbine engine with seating capacity for four passengers. A classic machine he always enjoyed flying. He carted their luggage out to the waiting helicopter and stowed it, put on his helmet and did his check, then went in to collect Lily.
The passengers stood in a cluster, their backs to him, voices high-pitched, watching something he couldn’t see. People shifted, and between bodies he glimpsed Lily, down on the floor. Heart leaping with anxiety, he rushed forward.
No, thank God, she was okay. The brunette girl he’d noticed earlier lay on the floor, with Lily kneeling beside her. Clad in jeans and a cream cable-knit sweater, his wife looked young and beautiful—but her manner was pure medical authority. She directed rapid-fire questions to a panicky looking girl and boy the same age as her patient, then spoke into her phone. “She’s had the flu. A lot of vomiting over the past week. No doubt dehydrated. Friends report she had a headache and seemed a little disoriented. She obviously wasn’t monitoring her blood sugar.”
Dax checked the girl’s right wrist, saw the medical alert bracelet, and put two and two together. Diabetic coma. He had some paramedic training, but Lily clearly had this under control.
He spread his arms and urged the clustered passengers away. “Move back, folks. Let’s give the doctor room to work.”
As Lily gave the girl’s vital signs, he heard an approaching siren and realized she was conveying information to the ambulance crew. “She needs IV fluids stat,” she said, “and possibly insulin.”
Over by the front door, Jorge, one of the SeaSky staff, stood waving his arms to direct the incoming ambulance. Dax ensured there was a clear path from the door, and seconds later the paramedics rushed in.
He watched proudly as Lily worked with them, and in no time the girl was hooked up to an IV bag and being loaded onto a stretcher.
When Lily stepped back, he went to her side. “Do you need to go with her?”
Her troubled gaze flicked to him, then back to the woman. Could she bring herself to trust the patient to someone else or, as usual, would her job come first?
Shit, he was a selfish bastard. “If you need to go, I understand.”
Slowly, she turned her gaze back to him. “St. Paul’s is only minutes away and the paramedics have it under control.”
Relieved, he caught her hand and squeezed it. “She’s damned lucky you were here. What was she thinking, not taking better care of herself?”
“Kids think they’re invincible. Her friends said they’d had the trip planned and she really wanted to go. She’ll pay more attention next time.”
Thanks to Lily, there’d be a next time. He put his arm around her shoulders. “You did good, Doc.”
She shrugged. “Simple stuff. If I hadn’t been here, the paramedics would have saved her.”
“You gave them a head start so they knew exactly what to do when they arrived.” He pulled her tighter. “What you do is important.” If he told her enough times, would she stop letting her parents disrespect her?
“Thanks.”
“And now your chariot awaits.”
She put on her jacket, he collected her overnight bag, and they walked outside and down the ramp to the helicopter. She gazed at the shiny blue and white machine. “This is exciting.”
No, she was exciting. And impressive. And sexy. “Lily.” He cupped her head between his hands.
“Dax?” Then, as he bent to kiss her, she smiled and rose to meet him.
Her lips were chilly in the cool air, but warmed quickly. He kept the kiss slow and tender, aware that the people in the waiting room could see them.
When their lips parted, her gaze was solemn. “I want this. Us. I want our love back. But it feels like such a big task, trying to fix all the things that have gone wrong. How are we going to do it?”
Like he had magic answers? She was the planner. “One step at a time, I guess. And here’s the first.” He ushered her into the helicopter then took his own seat and they buckled up. A flight was due in from Victoria, and he needed to get this bird in the air.
She touched the clear window beside her. “I remember the first time you took me up. How disconcerting it was, having almost nothing between us and the sky. With the huge windows, it’s so much more immediate than being in a plane.”
“Another reason I prefer helis.”
Lily put on her sunglasses and the headset that would let them talk to each other, and kept quiet as the engine caught, the rotor blades spun, and he got clearance from the air traffic control tower to lift off.
The helicopter vibrated, power gathering. Dax never lost that tiny thrill of anticipation and the leap of his heart when the machine’s skids broke contact with the ground. He took her up and set her on course, scanning the air space and water of Vancouver Harbour, then Coal Harbour, noting the HeliJet flight from Victoria, a seaplane landing, and another taking off. Visibility was great, the sky a clear, chilly blue. After they’d flown over Lions Gate Bridge, he spoke to Lily though their headsets. “Great day for flying.”
“We couldn’t have asked for better weather.”
“There’s a bag beside you. I bought a couple of sandwiches. Egg salad and ham and cheese. Take your pick.”
“Mmm, nice. You remembered I like egg salad.”
Not about to accuse her again of being predictable, he said, “Hoped you still did.”
She opened the lunch bag, handed him the ham sandwich, and started eating the egg one. He’d also included a couple of fruit drinks.
In cruise flight, Dax kept his right hand on the cyclic, balanced the sandwich wrapper on his lap, and moved his left hand away from the collective periodically to take a bite.
When he flew tourists, he had to tell them about th
e scenery and answer questions, but his preference was to not talk when flying. Up in the sky on a day when the weather was stable, a sense of serenity came over him. Perhaps Lily shared that mood, because she spoke little, only an occasional comment about the world unfurling below them. The pristine whiteness of the snow capping the North Shore mountains; how the view from the gondolas at Grouse Mountain couldn’t compare to the one from the helicopter; how nice it was to cruise above the traffic on the busy Sea to Sky Highway. Dax pointed out the controlled development at Furry Creek, a tug towing a huge log boom, a pair of bald eagles on a tall tree in Brackendale, the abandoned town of Garibaldi.
Too quickly, they arrived at Whistler, and he set the helicopter down at the heliport.
“Thank you,” Lily said as he helped her out. “That was a lovely flight.”
“My pleasure.”
He retrieved their luggage and they went into the office, where he did paperwork, then they climbed into a taxi.
Whistler sparkled with the dazzle of sunshine on snow, a ski village designed to harmonize with the natural environment. The center of town, the tourist area, was too ritzy for Dax’s taste, but he did love the majestic scenery, and most of the residential areas were understated and appealing. That was true of White Gold, where they were staying. Christmas lights and decorations were still displayed at many houses.
When the cab pulled up in front of the rental cabin, Lily said, “How cute. It looks like a gingerbread house.” The peaked roof was covered with snow and icicles hung from the eaves. Shuttered windows looked like sleeping eyes waiting to open.
Dax lugged their stuff to the snow-covered porch. “I’ll get the key.” He found it, as the owners had promised, tucked behind a shutter on a side window. The front door led into a mudroom. On one side, a long rectangular box formed a bench seat, and on the other wall jackets hung on hooks above several pairs of boots. Three pairs of skis and two snowboards—one big, one small—were stacked in a corner.
“Don’t take your jacket off,” he warned. “It’ll be cold inside. We can turn on the heat then walk into the Village and pick up groceries.”
They did both take off their boots before stepping into a living room with log walls and a sizable fireplace made of rough stones, with a basket of logs and kindling beside it. The furniture was casual and suited the room: a couch and sofa done in blue and green upholstery, comfy looking chairs, wooden coffee tables, all a little the worse for wear. Bookcases on either side of the fireplace overflowed with books, DVDs, and games. Framed photographs covered the walls. He moved closer to take a look. “This must be the couple who owns it.”
Lily stepped up beside him and they both studied a photo of a tanned man and woman a little older than them with a boy aged seven or eight. Posed with mountain bikes, they wore shorts and tees and held helmets. The woman had a baby bump.
The people who owned this house had the life he’d once dreamed of: a happy family with easy access to wilderness adventure.
“A nice-looking family,” Lily said with a hint of something—wistfulness?—in her voice. Did she too feel a moment’s regret for a youthful dream they’d both outgrown?
“I like this place,” she said.
“I doubt your mom would think much of their interior decorator.”
She laughed softly, but when she answered, her voice had that same wistful tone. “No, but this is a home.” More of a home than the house she’d grown up in. She didn’t have to say those words; they both knew the truth. As for him, he’d never really had a home, yet gut instinct recognized this as one.
Seventeen
Lily gazed at her husband, so handsome and rugged in his jeans and flight jacket. Dax fit this room with its big stone fireplace and comfy, if shabby, furniture. He fit here better than in the Vancouver condo.
The room had personality and character; it looked lived in. In her parents’ home, she and Anthony had learned to leave no sign of their presence. An image came into her mind, of Anthony’s and Regina’s living room. Her brother had loosened up since he’d married, and again since they’d had Sophia. But Lily maintained the discipline she’d learned as a child and had trained Dax to tidy up after himself. No wonder he rarely came back to a place that didn’t look like a home.
He reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. “I’ll turn on the heat then let’s go buy food. Do you want to eat in or go out tonight?”
“Let’s eat in. By the fire.” Food, wine, and a crackling fire. Relaxation, if such a thing were possible when so many huge issues hung over their heads. Even if they did rekindle their love for each other and decided they wanted to make their marriage work—which was a huge if—could they ever find a lifestyle that worked for both of them? One that gave Dax the freedom and outdoors life he needed, yet included a real home and the children she yearned for?
“Sounds good,” he said. “Before we go shopping, you should check your bag, see if there’s anything I forgot.”
He’d packed for her—which sort of annoyed her, yet she understood why he’d done it. The take-charge guy she’d fallen for had wanted to kidnap her and give her a romantic surprise. And he’d tried to be considerate: he’d given her egg salad and a spectacular flight, a real fireplace and her choice of dinner options. She wrapped her arms around his waist inside his unzipped jacket, tipped her head back, and gazed up at him. “Thank you, Dax. For all of this.” She swallowed. “For not losing hope.”
“You’re welcome.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and kissed her.
This kiss, like the one they’d shared before leaving Vancouver, started out gentle, but when Dax slipped his tongue between her lips, she met it eagerly. Mmm, if only the house wasn’t icy cold, how lovely it would be to light a fire and make love in front of it.
Reluctantly, she pulled away. “To be continued.”
“Count on it.” He picked up their luggage. “I’ll take these upstairs.”
She followed him up a wooden staircase. The second floor had a large bedroom with an en suite, the little boy’s room, a spare bedroom, and a bathroom. Dax placed her suitcase on the bed in the master bedroom and she checked the contents. He’d done surprisingly well, packing all the necessary toiletries, casual clothes, a dressy pantsuit, and one of her half dozen good dresses, this one tan and conservatively styled. Lingerie and high-heeled shoes but—she shook her head, amused—no panty hose. He had packed the lightweight, rose-colored sweater he’d once given her. Usually, she stuck with beiges and grays, but she got compliments when she wore this sweater.
Dax had also included the butterfly top Kim had given her, which she had yet to wear. It had been a birthday gift two months ago. A birthday Dax hadn’t come home for. He offered, but she figured he didn’t really want to and told him not to bother, she’d be working that day and then there’d be dinner with her parents. How typical of the way their relationship had gone.
Remembering something, she checked inside her cosmetics bag. Yes, her birth control pills were there. When, if ever, would she be able to toss them out?
“How did I do?” Dax’s voice drew her attention.
She tried to banish the regret and focus on the hope. “Amazingly well. But if we go out for dinner and I wear that dress, I’ll need pan-ty hose.”
“Oops.” Then he gave a wicked grin. “Or we could do that thing where you wear a dress and no underwear, and I play with you under the tablecloth until you come.”
“Dax!” They would never dare to do that. Would they? Had he omitted panty hose deliberately? “It’s winter,” she reminded him. “No woman would go out in public bare legged.”
“Garter belt and stockings?”
She huffed. “Let’s go shopping.”
But the idea stayed with her, teasing at the corners of her mind as, clasping gloved hands, they strolled the snowy path from the White Gold neighborhood into Whistler Village. She commented on how pure and crisp the air was. Dax traced a hammering sound to a red-headed woodpecker, and
named the flock of tiny, chittering birds in an evergreen tree as pine siskins. They chuckled over a toddler in a pink snowsuit forming sloppy snowballs and pelting her father.
Entering the Village, they wandered past upscale stores, restaurants, and coffee shops. The town bustled with people dressed in winter wear, some carrying skis or snowboards. Everything was still decorated for Christmas: twinkling lights, holly, wreaths with pinecones, Santa Clauses, and reindeer.
Most of the clothing-store windows featured ski and snow wear but some had party clothes. A dress caught Lily’s eye. In a silky looking blue and gold fabric, it was sleeveless with a deep vee neckline and a belled skirt that ended above the knees. Not as dressy as an evening gown, but prettier and more feminine than her dresses.
“Want to go out for New Year’s Eve dinner tomorrow?” Dax asked.
“That would be nice, but I doubt we’d get in anywhere at this late date.”
“Don’t know until we try. Whistler doesn’t seem like a place where people do a lot of advance planning.”
“Maybe not. That French place we passed looked nice.”
“Let’s go back and see if they can fit us in.”
Lily glanced across the street, where she’d noticed a lingerie store. “Why don’t you do that, and I’ll buy my panty hose?” And perhaps something sexier.
“Sure. Meet you back here.” He gave her a quick kiss then strode away.
She hurried across the street and into the boutique with its display of lacy lingerie. A smiling brunette in a low-cut red sweater greeted her. “Happy New Year. Can I help you find something?”
Lily gazed around. Normally, she bought basic underwear designed for comfort, and Dax had never complained. “I need a pretty, lacy bra in 36B, a garter belt, and stockings. And quickly, before my husband comes back.”
“Come with me. You’ll want a matching thong?”
Lily followed her. “Right.” Of course she wouldn’t go out in public without panties.
