Bound to be Dirty

by Savanna Fox

  She was tempted to e-mail Dax, but what would she say? Today, I took a baby step? No, she’d wait until her feet were firmly planted on a new course. Then she’d tell him she hoped that, rather than being on two parallel paths, they could find a way of making their paths join up.

  Before shutting down her computer, she sent another e-mail—cancelling her appointment with the divorce lawyer.

  Thirty

  Friday, around noon on a drizzly day, Dax set down the Bell 212 on the landing pad at Vancouver Harbour Heliport. He assisted an engineer and an accountant in climbing out. As they walked away, Joe Sparrow, a fit, husky man from the Musqueam First Nation, strode to meet Dax, beaming. They shook hands firmly and exchanged back slaps.

  “Thanks for doing this,” Dax said.

  “Hey man, my pleasure. Like I said, Marie and me have another little one coming and we can sure use the money. That’s damn good pay, flying for a mining company.”

  “Tough on the two of you, though, being apart.” He didn’t want to be responsible for creating problems in Joe and Marie’s marriage.

  “I’m only signing on for three months to start, and I’ll make it home a few days each month. You said there’s Internet, so I can Skype with her and the kids every day.”

  Something Dax and Lily had never set up. No, they’d let their relationship drift apart until a gulf separated them. But they loved each other. Couldn’t love build a bridge? This time, he wouldn’t quit without giving it his best shot.

  He and Joe loaded some supplies and assisted a couple of investors onboard, and then Dax stood back and watched his pilot friend lift the Bell into an overcast sky. A few minutes later, the duffel bag with all his possessions from the mining camp on his shoulder, he stepped aboard the SkyTrain.

  From the Olympic Village stop, he walked to the condo. He hadn’t told Lily he was coming, not wanting to risk having her say no. He’d needed to do this, though: to see her, talk to her, to be here. To show her how strong his love was, to prove he was a man who would be here for her.

  Inside the apartment, he noticed small differences. The fridge had Thai and Indian takeout containers with leftovers. A bowl and coffee cup sat in the dish rack. In the living room, the coffee table was off-center and pulled closer to the couch, as if Lily’d had her feet up on it. The duvet on the bed was a little messy on her side. Tiny things, but the place looked more lived-in than usual—like he could put his own feet up on that coffee table.

  How would Lily react when she came home and saw him?

  At least he could stack the deck in his favor.

  * * *

  As afternoon turned to evening, Dax paced restlessly. He had no idea what time Lily would come home, or whether she’d have eaten. During his shopping trip to Granville Island Public Market, he’d bought picnic food.

  The food was in the fridge, but he’d put place mats, plates, cutlery, and wineglasses on the coffee table. They could snack in front of the fireplace, even though the gas flames were pathetic. With any luck, she’d remember the good times at Whistler, not the horrible ending.

  On the mantel and a side table rested vases filled with bouquets of colorful mixed flowers. There were more flowers in the kitchen and bedroom. Unlit candles were scattered here and there, and he’d hidden a box of designer chocolates in a kitchen cupboard. Flowers, candles, and chocolate. Could he be any more cliché? But he wanted to show her he cared enough to be romantic.

  He was freshly showered and wore the hawk T-shirt she’d given him, over jeans. Maybe he should’ve chosen something more formal, but she’d always said she liked him in jeans.

  The apartment was silent but for the faint hiss of the fire and the occasional squeak of the floor as he paced, barefooted. Flying in a blizzard was less nerve-wracking than waiting for Lily to come home.

  Finally, just after seven, the front door lock clicked. The door opened then closed. This time, he didn’t go to her. He waited. He heard the closet door. She’d have taken off her boots and she walked so quietly he had no idea what she was doing. From the kitchen, he heard a gasp. And then, “Dax?”

  He stepped through to join her. She looked pretty and businesslike in a pale gray pantsuit with a white shirt, accented by the blue and silver scarf they’d bought in Whistler. “Hi, Lily.”

  She gaped at him as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. She glanced from him to the flowers on the kitchen table, then back to him, a smile forming. “Dax!” And she flung herself into his arms.

  Hugely relieved, he caught her tight, never wanting to let go. Their mouths came together quickly, clumsily. She was half laughing, her lips forming words even as she pressed kisses against him. “I can’t believe it. You’re here. Oh my God.”

  “I said I wanted to fight for our marriage, and then I gave up. I’m an idiot. I love you, Lily.”

  Tears slipped down her cheeks, all the way to her smiling lips. “Me too. Oh Dax, there must be a way of working things out. There’s an amazing solution if we work hard enough to find it.”

  “An amazing solution?” He sure hoped so.

  “It’s something Kim said.”

  He stepped back, a little pissed that she’d shared their personal shit. “You told your book club about us?” Then he gave himself a mental kick. She’d been alone, needed someone to talk to. “Sorry, of course you would. They’re your friends.”

  “I didn’t plan to, but I started to cry. In public, at a restaurant. It was so embarrassing.”

  His Lily, who prided herself on her self-control? “Aw, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Then, teasing gently, “More embarrassing than what we did in that restaurant in Whistler?”

  Pink tinged her cheeks. “Kind of. There, we were discreet. But anyhow, I couldn’t help it, Monday night. And I realized how wonderful it is to have girlfriends. They gave advice and support and, Dax, they care about me.”

  “How could they not? You’re special, Lily.” He peered into her light blue eyes. “I’m glad they’re there for you, but I want to be, too. You always handle stuff on your own and you shouldn’t have to. We should be partners.”

  “I know. But over the years, we grew more and more apart.”

  “Yeah, until there was a huge gulf. It was stupid.” He thought of Joe Sparrow and his family, Skyping every day.

  “We should have realized we couldn’t span that gulf in a few days. It’ll take lots of talk, and work. And compromise.” She flicked tears away, beaming. “Oh Dax, I have exciting news.”

  He wanted to hear it. More than that, he wanted to take her to bed and make slow, sweet love. But common sense told him that all the great sex in the world wouldn’t solve their problems. Right now, it was talk that counted. Or, maybe even more than that, listening. “I’d love to hear it. Want to tell me over dinner? Or have you eaten? I bought snacks because I wasn’t sure.”

  She gestured to a brown bag on the counter. “I picked up Chinese on the way home.”

  “I saw the Thai and Indian containers. You’re living on takeout?”

  “Hey, it’s better than what I was doing before: soup, crackers, and cheese, night after night. I’m making some changes.”

  “Let’s put your Chinese and my snacks together and we’ll picnic in front of the fire. Then you can tell me your news and I’ll tell you mine.”

  “Perfect.”

  “A martini, or do you want to go straight to wine?”

  “Wine, I think.”

  He poured two glasses from the bottle of Australian Shiraz that he’d already, optimistically, opened. They raised their glasses and she said, “To finding an amazing solution.”

  He clicked his glass against hers. “We’ll do it, Lily.”

  After they both drank the toast, he asked, “Did you say anything to your parents?”

  “No, only book club. And I made an appointment with a divorce lawyer, but I cancelled it.”

  His body, which had tensed as she spoke, relaxed again. She’d had hope, even before he returned. “Good.” Ey
eing her pantsuit, he said, “D’you want to change into something comfy? I’ll get the food organized.”

  “Good idea. I’ll be back in a minute.” She hurried away.

  He assembled the food on a big tray and took it into the living room where he lit the candles and turned out the light.

  When Lily joined him, she said, “Oh, my, it’s so romantic.”

  “That’s what I was going for. I wanted to show you I still feel, you know, romantic about you.” A poet, he’d never be.

  “Thank you. I love it. And mmm, this looks delicious. A perfect Friday night feast.” She sat on the couch and dished portions of this and that onto a plate.

  She was the feast, in clingy black yoga pants, rose-colored sweater, and the Whistler scarf. He sat beside her and touched her thigh. “You look so pretty, sweetheart.”

  “And you look so handsome. That tee is perfect for you.” She curled into the corner of the couch, her filled plate on her lap.

  Dax helped himself to food. “Kim could make good money if she wanted to design clothes.”

  “I know. She plans to keep making them for friends, but she says so many people are in the clothing design business. She wanted that one unique thing that was hers, and found it with UmbrellaWings.”

  “Finding your unique thing is important.” He took a bite of the Kung Pao chicken she’d brought.

  “I kind of lost track of that. And that’s part of my news. But before we get to that, tell me how you managed to be here. And how long you can stay.”

  “I’m here until we decide that I’ll be somewhere else.”

  She cocked her head. “What do you mean? You didn’t quit, did you? With no notice?”

  He shook his head. “Found a guy to take my place. Good pilot. No burned bridges if I ever want to work for that company again. But I realized I didn’t want to give up on us, and we sure weren’t gonna solve anything if I was way the hell and gone in the bush.”

  Her eyes were warm as she smiled at him. “I planned to try, though, Dax.”

  “Yeah?” He wanted to believe her.

  “I was going to get more organized, so you could see I really meant it.”

  “Uh, meant what?”

  “That I’m making changes at the clinic.” Her smile widened. “I’m so glad you’re here. Maybe you’ll have some suggestions.”

  This was a first: welcoming his opinion about the clinic. “I’m all ears.”

  “I called a brainstorming meeting with every single person who works at the Well Family Clinic. I told them I wanted it to be a team effort and I wanted their ideas for making it a better place to work, as well as providing great care to our patients.”

  “Seriously? You, the one who always needs to be in control?”

  “Do you have any idea how liberating it is to give up being a control freak?”

  He chuckled, but then reflected on her question. “I’m not sure. Guess I’m a bit of one myself. I mean, I do work for employers, but everything about the actual flying’s in my hands.”

  “And maybe it needs to be. Ultimately, being a doctor is in my hands. But running a business doesn’t have to be. I don’t have a degree in business admin, so why should I think I can run a business?”

  “You tell me. I’m not saying that flippantly. I want to know why you thought you had to do that.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I thought that if I single-handedly built one of the most successful practices in the city, my parents would be impressed. But they won’t, so why not do what I want? And that’s to practice family medicine.”

  “You always did, from long before I met you. Maybe I should’ve tried harder to make you see it, when you were bending yourself out of shape trying to impress your parents.”

  “I doubt I’d have listened. You know how they say, with addicts, that they may have to hit bottom before they see the light and want to change?”

  He nodded, having known an addict or two, both in the Forces and out in the bush. Stressful situations preyed on people’s weaknesses. “Are you saying you hit bottom?”

  “I tried to tell myself I was resigned to a divorce and that I could do it and move on. But I felt so achy and empty and lonely. Then at book club we were talking about relationships, and trust, belonging, what it means to love.”

  “Belonging.” He echoed the word slowly. Had he ever felt that way?

  “Yes. And it really sank in, what I was losing. So there I was, having my little breakdown in a restaurant. Kim hung onto my shoulder and George and Marielle each had one of my hands. Like they were afraid I would, I don’t know, fall apart if they didn’t anchor me.” Her eyes misted. “And maybe I would have. But they did anchor me. They’ve kept doing it all week, with phone calls, texts, e-mails.”

  “I’m glad they’ve been there for you, but I feel shitty. I should be your anchor.”

  She reached over to touch his hand. “I’d like it if we could do that for each other. You may be a big, tough guy, but I bet sometimes you need an anchor too.”

  He blinked. “Uh . . . Like I told you, I learned when I was a kid that the only person I could rely on was me. But yeah, when you and I were apart, I always carried the thought of you with me. Your photo, that helicopter pin. When I was in Afghanistan, knowing I had you . . . I guess it kept me sane. It was an anchor, a lifeline, whatever you want to call it.”

  “Oh Dax, I’m so glad. But in the last years . . .”

  “That tie between us was, well, not broken, but . . .”

  “Tenuous. Fraught with mistrust and fear.”

  The corner of his mouth kinked up. “You’re better with words. Good description. So now we need to rebuild it.” He sipped wine and reflected. “This guy who’s filling in for me, he and his wife have kids and she’s expecting another. He’s taking the job for the money. I warned him it could be tough on their relationship but he says he’ll Skype with his family every day.”

  “Like George and Woody, when he’s out of town. Some people are smarter than we were. We got our priorities screwed up.”

  “Speaking of which, you were telling me about the clinic. How did that brainstorming meeting go?” He leaned forward to serve himself seconds of pasta salad and pepper ham, leaving the remaining Kung Pao chicken for Lily.

  “It was wonderful, once they realized I truly did want to hear their ideas and make changes.”

  Dax munched food, sipped wine, and watched Lily do the same as she told him about the ideas the group had tossed around. Changing the hours of the clinic, taking shifts, job sharing. New processes for making decisions. Different ways of organizing every aspect of the work, from patient scheduling to dealing with supplies and files, even the layout of the office.

  “It sounds great,” he said. “Thinking about all the bosses I’ve seen over the years—in the army, the private sector, government—seems to me a good leader’s the one who brings out the best in her people.”

  “Not the one who rules with an iron fist and thinks she knows best about everything?”

  “Your words,” he pointed out.

  “Anyhow, we’ve got loads of work to do. And—feel free to say ‘I told you so’—we agree that the clinic needs a trained, experienced manager.”

  “Makes sense to me.”

  “And, finally, to me.” She frowned. “The only hitch is, Jennifer, a receptionist, is taking courses in health-care administration and would love to step up. I don’t want to discourage her; she’s great, but not ready to take on all the responsibilities.”

  “Hire a manager and make Jennifer her assistant. Maybe half-time reception, half-time assistant. She could keep taking courses and get on-the-job training and experience. And she can give the manager loads of information about the clinic, which will save you time.”

  Lily’s face brightened. “That’s a great idea.”

  “You’ve figured out the financing for all this?”

  “Patient care and a happy, healthy staff take priority over my pride and my p
arents’ opinion. If I need to dip into the trust fund, I think Gran would approve.”

  “I’d bet on it.” He put down his empty plate and reached for Lily’s hand, weaving their fingers together.

  She gazed into his eyes. “This reminds me of that first summer, the way we shared things and helped each other. I talked about wanting to practice family medicine, and you encouraged me to stand up to my parents.”

  “And you suggested that I check out ROTP.”

  “You told me you wanted to go to college, but your marks sucked and you’d never get in, and you said your dream was to be a pilot. I did some research and found out that ROTP would pay for your education and the Forces would teach you to fly.”

  “Want to know a secret?” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  She squeezed back. “Always.”

  “You know why I wanted to go to college?”

  “Uh, because everyone did?”

  “And there, in a nutshell, was the difference between our worlds,” he said ruefully. “In yours, everyone assumed they’d get at least one degree. But neither of my parents had postsecondary education or ever held a decent job. I worked construction, chased girls, and drank beer with guys like me. We talked about the Beavers’ chances of winning the Stanley Cup, whether Coors was better than Molson Canadian beer, which waitress had the biggest tits.”

  “How evolved,” she teased.

  “Yeah, not. I figured that was my future. Best I could hope was that I’d stay out of jail. But then you came along and we got talking about dreams. I’d given up on dreams years back, but you got me dreaming again.” And he’d dreamed big: being a pilot and having a real home with Lily. He’d achieved one dream so why had he let the other one slip through his fingers? He tightened his grip on her hand.

  Blue eyes soft in the candlelight, she said, “You told me you’d always watched helicopters, planes, birds, and you wanted to be up in the sky. Where the world was spread out below and you could fly to wild, beautiful places. Where you could be free.”