by Susan Fox
She sounded so puzzled and grumpy that he had to laugh. “There’s more wine where that came from.”
“But then I’ll end up drinking too much.”
“I’m driving, so don’t worry about it.”
Seeing she was about to argue the point, he quickly said, “And you’ll have more photo ops tonight. Sometimes the sky’s even prettier after the sun has sunk below the horizon.”
She took her phone from her bag and put it on the table. “Don’t let me forget this time.”
“You could always set the alarm for ten minutes,” he teased.
When she reached for it again, he groaned. “I was joking.”
“It’s a good idea.” She fiddled with the phone and then put it down again.
She wore her hair loose tonight and her earrings sparkled in the candlelight, making him think of sunlight or starlight bouncing off waves. “Those earrings suit you.” Until today, she’d worn little gold thingies that were barely noticeable. Her new ones, made by Tamsyn, a jeweler who’d once belonged to the Enchantery, were abstract silver ones with sparkly stones that looked like diamonds but couldn’t be since the earrings had cost only thirty-five dollars.
After the pleasant but unproductive visit to Severn’s Reach, he and Eden had driven to Tamsyn’s place, talking to her in the studio that adjoined her house. As with most of the local artists, the studio also served as a storefront showcasing her work. The jeweler had been closemouthed about her commune days but happy to talk about her craft. She portrayed natural subjects and tried to capture their essence. Aaron and Eden had both admired her work.
Eden gave her head a flick, making the earrings dance. “They’re not my usual style, but they spoke to me. I hope Mom and Kelsey like the ones I bought for them.”
For her mother, she’d chosen hummingbirds with red-jeweled heads, saying her mom had two hummingbird feeders hanging outside the kitchen window. Her sister was getting feather-and-bead earrings, Eden commenting wryly that Kelsey was like a bird that never settled in one place for long.
Eden spoke often of her family. She was straightforward, which he respected, and it made it easy to get to know her. It was clear she was passionate about not only her family but her job. She had strong values and beliefs, set her goals based on them, then used her considerable energy and organizational ability to pursue those goals. He’d learned she was a bit of a control freak and liked to do things her way, though she could be flexible when necessary.
In that way—both the taking-charge part and the flexibility—they were similar. Other than that, they were pretty much opposites.
He had learned early on not to share information about his personal life, much less his feelings. Now he never talked about his shitty past or his troubled sister. That stuff was no one’s business but his.
Eden organized her life in terms of achieving goals. He’d only had three goals as an adult. Two, he’d already achieved: to live on Destiny and fly in this scenic area. The third—to ensure his sister and niece’s safety and security—wasn’t within his control. Other than that, he was a laid-back guy, content to enjoy his small corner of the world with the wonders of nature and the entertaining eccentricities of neighbors who accepted him just as he was.
Eden had been toying with an earring, looking reflective. “I’ll be taking home souvenirs from this trip, and memories. But Aaron, I’m halfway through my time here, and so far, I don’t have a single lead that will help me find Lucy.”
He’d hoped she wouldn’t think about that tonight. He wanted Eden to be happy. For some reason that mattered more to him each day. He knew all the sunset dinners and kayaking-with-seals adventures in the world couldn’t give her the same happiness as being able to tell her mom she’d located her long-lost sister, and that Lucy was well and happy.
Aaron was doing all he could, yet he felt frustrated and inadequate because he hadn’t been able to produce the results Eden wanted. Trying to encourage both of them, he put his hand over hers where it rested next to her empty glass. “There are still several names on the list. Don’t give up hope. I don’t think that’s like you, right? I see you as a power-of-positive-thinking person.”
She turned her hand over and wrapped her fingers around his. “True. Okay, I’ll remain positive. And right now, I have a goal I’m very positive about. I’m hungry. Let’s order dinner.”
Their waitress was going around the deck lighting outdoor heaters because the air had cooled off with the sun’s setting. Aaron beckoned her over just as the cell phone alarm went off. Eden clicked photos of the mellow afterglow of the sunset, all pinks, golds, and purples this evening. Aaron gave the waitress their order: a lamb burger for him, a blackened tuna salad for Eden, a Coke for him, and another glass of wine for her.
When the colors in the sky faded, Eden put her phone away. “That was beautiful.” She touched one of the bright flowers in the small vase on the table. “So are these. Everything here seems so natural.”
“How d’you mean?”
“The flowers came from a garden, not a florist. The fish came out of that very ocean.”
“And the lamb—”
“No!” She held up a hand, stopping him. “I refuse to think that the lamb came from one of those cute, fluffy little creatures we saw in the fields we drove past. I’m going to believe it originated in a grocery store, covered in plastic wrap.”
He grinned at her. “Whatever makes you happy.” It didn’t make sense to him that she’d happily eat fish from the ocean yet be squeamish about grass-fed lamb. But women could be weird that way.
The waiter delivered the second round of drinks and Eden took a small sip of her pinot gris. “Even if the old commune members haven’t been able to help me in my search, it’s been interesting talking to them.”
“I’m glad you don’t feel like it’s been a waste of time.”
She cocked her head. “Well, in terms of achieving my goal, it has. But you know, talking to these people makes me think of Mom. Of how she used to be, anyhow. Before the cancer.”
“How so?”
“She’s all about personal growth. As a teacher, it fascinates her how people change from their teen years to adulthood. She tries to help her students figure out whether their dreams are pure fantasy or may be achievable, and to develop concrete ways of achieving their goals, which may be through education, travel, apprenticeships, or whatever.”
He nodded, thinking of how Lionel and flying had changed a sullen, rebellious teen into a responsible adult.
“What I’ve been seeing here is a special group of people,” Eden mused. “Who at a unique time in history had their own individual reasons for joining the Enchantery. They were hippie kids and now they’re in their sixties and seventies. The bulk of their lives is behind them, and it’s fascinating to see what they’ve done with those lives. And how the commune influenced them.”
He’d never thought about it in such an analytical way. Intrigued, he said, “Go on.”
“Admittedly, it’s a small sample, and they’re all people who chose to live on Destiny, but it seems to me they’ve found happy lives. Less conventional lives—well, except for Cynnie—than many people their age. Their lives suit them, whether they live a marginal existence like Azalea or they’re fairly well off like Marlise and Cynnie. They’re being true to themselves: raising chickens and marijuana, being a social worker, making jewelry, enjoying grandkids, and so on. Married, single, partnered, or friends with benefits—as it suits them, not because of what society tells them to do.”
“Maybe what the commune—and the times—taught them was to think for themselves.”
“That’s not what Merlin wanted. He wanted them to obey him. And I’m sure a number of them did, at least for a time. But somehow, sometime, they did learn to think for themselves.” She smiled across the table at him. “My mom would approve.”
What a concept: a mom’s approval. Not something he or Miranda had ever known. He swallowed the last mouthful of b
eer, wishing his second drink was another beer rather than a Coke.
“Aaron, are you okay?”
“Sure. Why?”
“You just looked . . . sad or something for a moment.”
He’d be a hell of a lot sadder if he told her the story of his childhood and teens—and she’d get depressed, maybe feel sorry for him. He forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m sad that dinner hasn’t arrived. My stomach’s growling. I hope they didn’t have to go catch my lamb.”
“Stop it!” She raised her hands to her ears, laughing. “I don’t hear a word you’re saying.”
With relief, Aaron saw their waitress approaching with their meals. “Ah, in answer to my prayers.” In more ways than Eden knew.
As they started to eat, he asked her to tell him about a few of the programs her Foundation had funded. Not only did that shift attention from him but he enjoyed hearing about her work and the pride she took in it. When she turned the focus back on him, he managed, as usual, to stick to topics like his favorite places to fly and stories about the island’s colorful history and quirky residents.
When they’d finished eating, Aaron reached across the table for her hand. She looked so lovely, her face lit by the candle on the table and the silvery moon. Her amber eyes sparkled, as did her earrings. “Dessert here or at my place?” He hoped she was ready for some private time.
Her lips curved knowingly. “What’s on the menu for dessert at your place?”
“Because you watch calories”—he winked—“we could go with something tasty and fat-free.”
“Do tell.” She leaned forward, her elbow on the table and her chin cupped in her hand.
“Your lips would be a good start, followed by perhaps a nibble of an earlobe. Then I’d like to spend some time savoring your breasts and—”
“Shh,” she said quickly. A smile bloomed and she said, so quietly he could barely hear it, “That’s your dessert. What do I get?”
He gave her his best wicked grin. “Anything your little heart desires.”
A strange expression crossed her face, or maybe it was just a flicker of candlelight, because it was gone in a second. “How can I turn down an offer like that?”
Chapter Eleven
Two days later, on Thursday afternoon, Eden was following Aaron’s eminently watchable butt and legs, clad in shorts, as he hiked up a narrow trail ahead of her. They were at Spirit Bluff, the island’s largest park. Aaron said it hadn’t been developed except for picnic areas along the beach near the parking lot, but trails crisscrossed it. He’d led her along one of those trails, through heavily treed forest, rocky stretches, and fields with wild grasses. She’d stopped more than once to snap photos, stroke the smooth orange curves of arbutus trees, or gasp as an eagle soared overhead, its white head and tail gleaming in the sun.
The first half hour had been relatively easy walking, but for the last ten or fifteen minutes they’d pretty much been going up. The incline wasn’t all that steep. A pair of women with gray hair, small backpacks, and hiking staffs had passed them a few minutes earlier. Still, Eden and her gray Skechers were used to flat, paved ground and walks lasting no longer than half an hour.
Aaron, with his own large backpack, had obviously slowed his natural stride to accommodate her, but all the same she was puffing. When she got back to Ottawa, she should find a way to fit regular exercise into her weekly routine. Sadly, working out in a fitness club wouldn’t be the same as kayaking or hiking in a spectacular wilderness setting.
She was about to fake another I-want-to-take-a-picture stop when the trail widened and stopped climbing. Aaron waited for her to catch up and took her hand. “How are you doing?”
Trying not to wheeze, she said, “Just fine.”
Voices sounded from lower down on the trail, and they stepped aside as a group of six or seven teens rushed past them.
“This is a popular spot,” Eden commented.
“Yeah. With locals and with tourists.” Aaron tugged her hand. “Come on, if you’ve caught your breath. I know a private spot for our picnic.”
“How can there be a private spot in this park?”
“Pilots know all the best places. We see what people can’t from the ground.”
As they resumed their hike, she tried to match her stride to his. Her shorts-clad legs were so pale and thin compared to his strong brown ones. Her size-six feet looked like city feet in her Skechers and no-show socks; his were so masculine and outdoorsy in the heavy, Velcro-strapped sandals he called Tevas.
How many other women had he brought here? Probably every single one had been more fit than she was—and that was her own damned fault. As for how many other lovers he’d had, why should she care? What was wrong with her? Was she starting to have feelings for Aaron?
He let go of her hand as he branched off onto an even narrower, rougher trail. The green-leafed shrub he’d identified as salal almost obscured the path and scratched at her bare legs. Where on earth was this man leading her?
In more ways than just on this hike. Where was their relationship headed?
Last night, when they’d been joking about dessert at his place, he’d said she could have anything her heart desired. And for one moment, her heart had desired him. Not just his sexy body and skilled lovemaking but Aaron himself. His heart. His love.
And that was ridiculous. It wasn’t what she really wanted and it wasn’t what he was offering. Maybe she truly was incapable of relaxing and having a fling.
Or maybe . . . was it possible this really might be something more? She hadn’t intended it to be, nor had he. But she was experiencing disconcerting emotions, like maybe she could really care for Aaron—if he had a deeper, more serious side. He must, mustn’t he, even if it sometimes seemed he diverted her more probing questions? And if he did have hidden depths, might it be possible he had feelings for her?
She clambered over roots and rocks, trying to match her footsteps to where Aaron, with his longer stride, had walked. Panting, she struggled to suck in enough air.
Reality check: Time for the con side of the list. Even if they did come to care for each other, surely there was no future in it. She couldn’t leave her parents, and her job was very important to her, too. Aaron was a pilot and presumably could find a job anywhere, but it was hard to imagine him ever leaving Destiny. He seemed as tied to the island as Azalea, Lionel, Marlise, Tamsyn, and the others she’d talked to. He belonged here, like the seals and the eagles.
“This way,” Aaron said. He ducked through some bushes. As far as she could see, there was no trail. Or if there was, it belonged to woodland creatures like deer, not to humans. But she followed gamely, trying to ignore the scratch of foliage against her bare legs and arms.
Ten minutes later, after dodging and ducking branches and prickles, stubbing her toes on rocks, tripping over an arbutus root, and getting increasingly sweaty, she was losing patience. But then, on Aaron’s heels, she came out at a clearing. Daisies and clover sprinkled the shaggy grass. Gazing around, she saw the disintegrating ruins of what looked to have been a wooden cabin, several rambling old apple trees, and a stream. “Someone lived here once?”
“Must have done. Probably more than a century ago, before this land was made into a park. Running water. Land to grow fruit and vegetables. Likely had a cow or two, chickens, maybe sheep. Horses for transportation.”
Such an isolated life. “I wonder what happened to them.”
“I could probably find out if I asked around, but I haven’t mentioned this place to anyone. If folks have forgotten about it, that works fine for me.”
She walked over to a cluster of bushes with simple but lovely pink flowers and leaned in to sniff a blossom. The scent was heady and familiar. “It’s some kind of rose.”
“Wild rose.”
She was enjoying another long sniff when Aaron stepped up behind her. He put his hands on her waist and turned her to face him. “Was the climb worth it?”
Muscles she hadn’t even known she posse
ssed were protesting. But there were wild roses and daisies and, glancing past him, she saw he’d spread a big striped towel over a patch of grass. “The jury’s still out,” she teased.
“You’re a tough sell.”
Laughing softly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and swayed against him. “Ah, but I happen to know you can be persuasive.”
He dipped his head and kissed her, long and slow, as lazy as the hum of bees exploring the clover. Her body was doing some humming of its own, and she murmured approval.
Aaron put his arm around her and led her over to stand beside the towel. He knelt and removed her shoes and socks. Careful to avoid bees, she plunged her feet into the rough grass and wriggled her toes among the warm, springy blades.
He rose and, starting at the top, button by button, undid her short-sleeved blouse. He tugged the tails free from the belted waistband of her walking shorts and then slid the blouse off her shoulders and arms.
She fought the impulse to cross her arms over her chest as he undid her shorts and pushed them to the ground, leaving her clad in only a white lace-trimmed bra and matching bikini panties. He stepped back and gazed at her.
She had two options. If she worried about someone coming along, she’d ruin what promised to be another special time with Aaron. And so, as she’d done on the beach at SkySong, she chose to believe him that this spot was private. That decision, coupled with the gleam of attraction in his eyes, gave her the confidence to straighten her shoulders and stand tall, letting him look his fill.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said.
Ray had said the same words, but they’d never made her skin tingle. In four whole years with her ex, she’d never felt as sexy and uninhibited as she did now. Part of it might be the grass under her toes, the sunny air on her skin, and the scent of roses that drifted from the blossom-laden bushes, but mostly it was Aaron.
