Fly Away with Me

by Susan Fox

  “I know. My sister looked a bit like Lucy when she was that age. Hmm . . .” She scrolled back on her phone to find another photo. “That’s Kelsey now, at twenty-one.”

  Aaron rose so he could take a look. Eden’s sister had a slim, smiling face and big blue eyes. Her hair, worn in a spiky style not unlike Bernie’s, at the B and B, was light brown with exaggerated blond streaks. She was pretty enough to make a guy look twice, but he preferred Eden’s looks: an intelligent, serene kind of beauty that grew the more you looked at her.

  “There’s something . . .” Marlise started, and then she said, “An actress, maybe, that she reminds me of. But no, I’m sorry. Do you have a picture of Barry?”

  “No, I don’t.” She went over to Lionel and showed him the three images.

  He studied them, then shook his head. “Sorry, Eden.”

  “It was so long ago,” Marlise said, “and we were all so young.”

  “I know.” Eden’s voice was subdued as she put her phone away. “You don’t happen to have any pictures from those days, do you?”

  “Cameras weren’t allowed in the commune.”

  Eden hung her head for a moment, then said, “Could you tell me a bit about the commune?”

  “At the time,” Marlise said, “we thought it was the ultimate in free expression. No structure, no rules. No jobs or school. But it wasn’t all sex, drugs, and rock and roll. We did grow vegetables and raise animals, trying to live off the land, though we weren’t very efficient.”

  “How did you all survive?” Aaron asked. “I mean, was there a source of money?”

  “Good question,” Marlise said. “Some of us arrived with money in our pockets or bank accounts we could access or relatives who were willing to wire us money. Cash went into the communal pot, which was in the custody of the leader, Merlin. Two or three of the boys went out with a local fisherman, trading labor for seafood.” She frowned slightly. “Looking back, I suspect someone must have been fairly wealthy. One or more of the members, or perhaps Merlin. You had to stay on his good side because he controlled the money and most of the drugs. And oh my, were there drugs. Mary jane, hashish, acid, speed, peyote buttons, magic mushrooms. It was a psychedelic cornucopia.”

  “Controlled by Merlin, the leader of the Enchantery,” Eden said quietly.

  Marlise shot her a surprised glance. “The Enchantery. I haven’t heard that in a long time. It was the name we used inside. How did you hear it?”

  “Azalea let it slip but made like she hadn’t and said it was a big secret. Though I don’t understand why it would be such a big deal.”

  “Because Merlin had his own rules, and a lot of them were about building his power.” Marlise gave a wry laugh. “We kids ran from one kind of structure and external control and ended up with a different one. Neither one was good.”

  “Tell us about Merlin,” Eden said gently.

  “Why do you want to know?” Marlise asked. “He left long, long ago.”

  “I’m just curious. It’s where my aunt lived for some period of time.” Eden pressed her lips together. “Was the commune a cult?”

  “A cult,” the other woman said quietly. “I suppose it was. A cult with a charismatic leader who really did enchant us. Tall, dark, very attractive, with long hair and a beard. He had that thing, that alpha, charismatic thing that made people crave his approval. He also gave out a very sexual vibe. I swear, almost every girl got swept up under his spell.”

  Lionel, coffee cup in hand, snorted.

  Marlise ignored him and went on. “The boys as well, but differently. Merlin made them feel as if they could become like him. Be powerful, have any woman they wanted.” She swallowed. “In retrospect, there was something seriously wrong with Merlin. He may have been a sociopath or had some kind of personality disorder.”

  “I don’t mean to get too personal,” Eden said, “but did those girls go with him—I mean have sex with him—willingly, or did he force them?”

  “Some were happy to have his attention. Others he manipulated, maybe drugged. Some, I’m pretty sure he forced.”

  This time, Lionel made a noise that sounded like a growl.

  Marlise reached over and he met her hand with his. “I never got hurt,” she said. “I was on the fringes of the commune, and not for very long. I realized I didn’t belong there. Though I wasn’t a conventional girl, I didn’t like all the drugs, or the casual sex with anyone and everyone. Although Merlin fascinated me, I didn’t like him. To me, he felt dangerous. Like if I stayed, I might, despite knowing better, find myself falling under his enchantment. So I left.”

  “Merlin didn’t try to keep people from going?” Aaron asked.

  “By persuasion, not by force. And then—this was after I’d left—one day, he was simply gone himself.” Dryly, she added, “He did like drama. His believers said he’d turned himself into a hawk and flown away, deserting them because they didn’t live up to his standards.”

  “No one heard from him again?” Aaron asked.

  “Not that I ever heard about.”

  “What happened to the commune then?” Eden asked.

  “They tried to keep it going. But it had gone from a dictatorship to having no leadership at all, and it disintegrated. A few of the nonislanders stayed on Destiny, building lives for themselves: Azalea, Maury, Di, and Seal. Gwendy at Severn’s Reach. Forbes left the island for a number of years but came back. Then there are those of us who were islanders to start with: me, Tamsyn, Cynnie, and Darnell.”

  “Those names are already on my list,” Eden said. “Can you think of any islanders who weren’t commune members but came in contact with the Enchantery or its members?”

  Marlise and Lionel brainstormed, giving her another couple of possibilities to check out. After that, the conversation turned general again. Aaron liked how well Eden got along with Lionel and Marlise. It was past nine by the time he and Eden rose to go.

  Outside, the air felt cool after the warmth of Lionel’s fireplace. Aaron wrapped his arm around her shoulders, glad to finally be alone with her. “Come see my place.”

  She glanced around. “Now? In the dark? How do you even find it at night?”

  “Motion sensor lights. Powered by solar, like most things at Lionel’s and my houses.”

  “I didn’t see the panels.”

  “They’re on the ocean side, in a clearing that gets sun most of the day. Come on.” He steered her toward the path that led from the shared parking area.

  Lionel had inherited some money and used it to buy a chunk of waterfront back when prices were cheap. Several years ago, he’d told Aaron he had no need for so much property, so he’d subdivided it into two lots. He’d sold the smaller one to Aaron for a very reasonable price, making for affordable mortgage payments. Aaron had paid peanuts for a beat-up little trailer, which he’d lived in on the property. With occasional help from other islanders as part of the barter network, he built a log cabin using trees from his own land. Though his home was small, it met his needs just fine. It even had a bedroom set aside for his sister and niece, in case Miranda ever accepted his invitation. The best part, though, was that he had the same view as Lionel, the sounds of the ocean and nature, and a neighbor who was his closest friend.

  Lights hooked in tall trees came on, dim but sufficient to show the way. As his feet, confident with familiarity, started out on the path, the footing was soft from years of fallen leaves and pine needles, and the scent of pine and ocean filled his nostrils. A piping chorus of the ribbit variety serenaded them. The path was narrow, and Aaron hugged Eden close to his side.

  “What’s that strange sound?” she asked, sounding a little nervous.

  “Tree frogs singing to you.”

  “I feel like I’m Little Red Riding Hood on the path to Grandmother’s house.”

  “All you’ll find at my cabin is me, and I’m exactly what meets the eye. No more, no less.”

  Her hmm made him wonder what she was thinking. The kind of man she’d
be looking for long-term would be a city guy with an important job and a serious outlook on life. Right now, though, this wasn’t about long-term, so Aaron figured that emphasizing all the opposites was a good thing. So he said, “Yup. A guy with a cabin in the woods who’s lucky enough to make a living flying planes in the most beautiful place in the world. No commitments, no strings, just living day by day here in paradise.” There was no need to mention the more serious aspects of his life, like his mortgage or the struggle to keep Blue Moon Air in the black during the off season, much less his always worrisome sister and her little girl.

  “It smells good out here,” Eden said. “There’s a salty tang from the ocean and something green and earthy.”

  “The scent of the woods. Pine needles, arbutus bark, fallen leaves.” He was glad the city girl appreciated it.

  They came out in a clearing by the woodshed. Aaron had installed a switch that activated the porch light on his house, across the clearing. As he reached for that switch, he felt a moment’s anxiety. He was proud of the cabin he’d built, learning as he went, gratefully accepting help from other islanders. The women he’d brought here had called it cute and cozy. But it was small, simple, rustic. What would Eden think of his home?

  * * *

  When Aaron said, “Okay, here it is. Home sweet home,” a light came on some distance away, and it took Eden’s eyes a moment to adjust.

  She saw a log cottage with a porch running the width of the front and large windows on either side of the door. The logs were nowhere near as weathered as the outside of Lionel’s house and there wasn’t a yard. A chimney confirmed that the woodshed served a useful purpose.

  “It’s charming.” In a rugged, outdoorsy way that was foreign to her. “I can’t wait to see inside.” How Aaron had furnished and decorated would tell her a lot about him. He might only be a potential holiday fling, but the man intrigued her and she wanted to know him better.

  They took the steps to the porch and he opened the door and ushered her inside. “I’ll give you the tour, which’ll take all of a minute. It’s only about fifteen hundred square feet.”

  The living area had an open-plan design with a big stone fireplace in the middle rather than on an outside wall. The fireplace opened on one side to a sitting area with a couch and chairs and on the other side to a dining area. The dining area was separated from the kitchen by an island. The bedroom was spacious, with a desk as well as a queen-size bed. Across the hall was a nicely designed bathroom. And down the hall was a guest room, as large as the master bedroom but sparsely furnished with a single bed and a dresser.

  The walls were finished logs and the floors were hardwood. All that wood could have been overwhelming but for the large windows and the open design. The furniture was simple: cinnamon leather for the couch and chairs and light oak for most of the wood furniture; beds that were basic box spring and mattress combinations; in Aaron’s bedroom, a duvet striped in shades of blue including a navy that matched the curtains. The guest room was done in shades of green. There were no paintings, just a few framed photos of ocean scenes, but then, the windows didn’t leave much wall space to hang art.

  The TV wasn’t very large, suggesting he didn’t spend hours watching sports or anything else. A collection of DVDs in a basket gave her the urge to root through them to discover his taste in movies, but she resisted. Plain wooden shelves held a lovely pottery vase and a bowl, some shells, rocks, and pieces of driftwood. “I like it,” she said after they returned to the living room. “I don’t know you well, but it seems to suit you.”

  “How so?”

  “Masculine, simple rather than fussy, interesting, comfortable. Outdoorsy.” It struck her as a more airy, modern version of Lionel’s house—which suggested to her that as a teen and younger man Aaron had felt at home at Lionel’s. She walked to a window on the ocean side and glanced out. He, too, had a deck, and past it she saw the gleam of moonlight reflecting on the dark ocean. It was beautiful, mysterious, and she shivered. “Isn’t it scary, living all alone in the middle of, well, nothing?”

  “The middle of nature.” He stepped up beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.

  She was getting used to that, and to how good it felt to snuggle up against him. He managed to be warm, solid, and reassuring at the same time as raising a sexy awareness in her.

  “Seems to me,” Aaron said, his voice a soft rumble above her head, “that it’s safer to be surrounded by nature than by people.”

  That sounded pretty cynical. She wondered if he was a loner by nature or if something had happened to disillusion him about humankind. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but he was using those strong arms to turn her until she faced him. Without another word or any warning, he dipped his head and kissed her. His confident lips captured her surprise. “Oh!”

  Last night when he’d kissed her, she’d expected the usual rather tentative first kiss, the guy checking to see if it was okay to do this, both of them finding out how mouths matched up, him not wanting to push too far. Not so with Aaron Gabriel. His sensual, knowing kiss had swept her up, banishing any possibility of awkwardness or uncertainty.

  Tonight it was even better. Her lips had been created to shape and reshape themselves against his, to part for him. The moist, secret corners of her mouth had craved the intimate touch of his tongue. And her own tongue had been designed expressly to follow his lead in a dance of passion.

  Aaron’s arms were around her, one high on her back, the other lower, with his hand gripping her butt. Her arms rose to lock around him and her hips thrust forward to press against the hard column of his erection behind the fly of his jeans.

  There might have been words to express what she felt, the surge of heat in her blood, the insistent throbbing of arousal as it pulsed through her, but the only sounds she could make were primitive ones: moans and whimpers that arose from deep within her as the kiss, the embrace, went on endlessly.

  In those endless moments, she became a woman she didn’t recognize—a physical, passionate, needy one who wanted nothing more than sexual gratification in this man’s arms.

  The intensity of her need, of her feelings, suddenly penetrated her brain and she gasped and stepped back, pulling out of his arms. She raised trembling hands to her cheeks, feeling their heat, and then touched her lips, which felt swollen and tender. Vulnerable.

  She felt vulnerable, and it was never a feeling she enjoyed. “Aaron, I . . . I can’t. Not now. It’s too much, too soon. I have to . . .”

  “Have to what?” He sounded a little frustrated but not angry. “Analyze it to death? I thought you already did that and opted in.”

  She was gaining control of her breathing and her thoughts. “I opted in to seeing where this goes. That kiss was . . . well, amazing. But that’s as far as I’m comfortable with tonight. Tomorrow or the next day . . . maybe.” She swallowed. “I don’t mean to be a tease. I just need to go more slowly.”

  He sighed, a sound with a harsh edge. “I get it. Sorry, Eden, I didn’t mean to push. That’s a crappy thing to do.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You weren’t pushing. I was totally into it until I—” What? Came to my senses? Got scared by an intensity I’d never experienced before? “Anyhow, when I called a stop, you stopped.”

  “Okay.” His lips curved tentatively. “So we’re good?”

  “If you’ll drive me back to the B and B and give me a good-night kiss with, oh, let’s say half the, um, vigor of that one, we’ll be good.”

  “Vigor?” He chuckled. “That’s a new one. But okay, let’s get you back.” He looped that big arm around her again and guided her to the front door. “Besides, you need a good night’s sleep. I have plans for you tomorrow.”

  As they went out into the fresh, slightly chilly evening, she said, “Tomorrow? You mean after you finish your flights for the day?”

  “Didn’t you notice me having a second glass of wine? I’m taking the day off. Mondays tend to be slow after the e
arly flight that drops weekenders back in Victoria and Vancouver. Jillian will take that one, and the couple others during the day.”

  They’d reached the woodshed, and the motion sensor lights along the trail came on as they walked. “I don’t want you changing your schedule because of me. There are still three names on the list I can contact myself.” After meeting Azalea and talking to Marlise and Lionel, Eden was understanding the value of having an islander introduce and vouch for her.

  “My schedule’s flexible. Jillian’s happy to pick up as many flights as she can handle.”

  No doubt the other pilot appreciated the income—which didn’t seem to be something that worried Aaron. Eden only hoped the owner of Blue Moon Air was okay with Aaron’s happy-go-lucky approach to his work schedule. A thought struck her. Back in her aunt’s day, would he have been a hippie? He sure seemed to enjoy a carefree, flexible lifestyle. She couldn’t imagine him getting into drugs, though. He struck her as more like Marlise, in being a person who wanted to control his own life, not surrender control to drugs or to another person.

  “No arguing,” he said amiably.

  Oh yeah, he could be amiable and laid-back when things went his way. “All right. Who do you suggest we see tomorrow?”

  “I’m thinking Maury, the Hunts, maybe Sven Svenson.”

  She nodded. Maury’d been at the commune, the reputably reclusive Hunts had lived near it, and Svenson had been a reporter for the Gazette.

  When they reached the Jeep, Aaron took a couple of minutes to raise the soft top and fasten it in place. “I’m not going to put the back windows in. The heater works, if you’re cold.”

  If she got cold, remembering that kiss would heat her up.

  They drove back the way they’d come in, the headlights picking out the road from the surrounding darkness. It was spooky and she was glad not to be doing this alone.

  “I’ll pick you up at nine,” he said. “Figure on being out all day. Bring clothes like you’re wearing now, but wear shorts and a tee and—”

  “What? I know you don’t want me to be all Ottawa formal for these interviews, but that sounds awfully casual.”