by Susan Fox
Now Eden made her way toward him, walking slowly across the rough grass. “I’m ready to go,” she said quietly.
Her hair was loose and wavy on her shoulders. He touched a strand, warm and silky between his fingers. “What do you think of the place?”
“It’s peaceful. It’s hard to imagine all the sex, drugs, and rock and roll people keep talking about.” She glanced around, her hair slipping from his fingers. “But I can imagine unhappy or troubled young people wanting to escape to a place like this. I can imagine dreamers and idealists bringing their dreams here.”
“Dreams. Yeah, I guess.” As a child, he’d had dreams. Not ones of a utopian sex-and-drugs-for-all commune but far more conventional: of a happy, loving home. Those dreams sure hadn’t been realized in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, nor with any foster family, and nor when he and Miranda had moved in with their grandparents. At the age of sixteen, he’d realized it was stupid to have dreams that depended on other people. You should only dream about things within your control: like living on Destiny Island and being a pilot. He never dreamed about things going better for Miranda and Ariana; he only tried to be a good brother.
“We should go,” Eden said, her tone brisk now.
“Take off your sunglasses,” he said, needing to see her eyes, their expression. To find out if he’d been right about the gold flecks.
“Why?” But she didn’t wait for his answer, just took them off and held them in one hand.
Her beautiful eyes sparkled up at him, brighter than the stones in her new earrings.
“You dazzle me,” he said, the words jumping out of his mouth. The kind of compliment he’d never before given.
Her eyes widened and then her lips made a tentative curve. “You kind of dazzle me, too, Aaron Gabriel.”
“Then why are you acting different today? It feels like you’re pulling away.” Oh God, he was mouthing girlie, needy shit. Still, he didn’t take it back.
“I . . . Pulling away? What do you mean?”
She’d given him a chance to retreat, but he didn’t take it. “You’re acting different. Not sharing stuff the way you usually do.”
She blinked, gazed down for a long moment, and then looked back up at him. “You’re right.” Another blink, but then she held his gaze. “The truth is, I realized I was coming to . . . well, maybe more than just like you. Even though that’s not what we agreed, or what either of us want. I guess it’s the danger of a rebound relationship.” She pressed her lips together.
So he was just a rebound relationship. She’d have felt the same for any guy she hooked up with. Again, why should that bother him?
Because for him she wasn’t just another fun hookup. Eden was special. Clearly, she didn’t feel the same way about him.
She unpressed her lips. “But then I realized I was being silly. You’re a great guy, but not the type of man I’d be looking for if I wanted a serious relationship.”
Hurt and pissed off, he was about to ask what the hell was wrong with him, and then he remembered he had zero interest in a serious relationship. That must be what she meant. “No, I guess not, eh?” He managed a small laugh.
“I want a man who sees life in more of a serious, responsible way, rather than being all about having a good time. One who’s passionate about things other than the outdoors, flying, and, well, sex. A man who does have depths and is willing to share them with me.”
“Yeah, that’s not me.”
She blinked again and said quietly, almost sadly, “You kept telling me that, and I finally realized I should listen.” Another blink, and she spoke more briskly. “Anyhow, I also thought about how you told me I needed to lighten up and have fun. That’s what this week was supposed to be about. You’ve taken time off work and gone to all the effort of helping me look for my aunt, which I truly appreciate. In return, did I give you fun?”
Being with her had been different. Not as frivolous as times he’d spent with other women, but in truth more fun. He was trying to figure out how to respond when she went on.
“Not so much, right? I was forever dumping family stories and work ones on you. Just as I’d do if I were seriously dating someone. I guess I don’t know how else to act. So I’ve decided to take my cue from you and lighten up on the heavy stuff. I’m not great at it, but I’m trying.”
I liked you the old way. She might say lighten up, but he felt as if she’d erected a barrier between them.
Just as he did, between him and the rest of the world.
“I get it,” he told her. “But don’t stress out over it, okay? I’m not changing for you and I don’t want you changing for me. Relax and be yourself and we’ll have a nice evening.”
A smile bloomed, and again he was dazzled as she said, “Sounds good to me.”
“Then let’s go get a burger. There’s a bistro at the Blue Heron Marina, not too far from here.” He’d noticed she rarely ate red meat, so he added, “They also make terrific crab rolls and popcorn shrimp.”
“I’m hungry already.”
He gave her a light kiss and they headed off to get dinner.
Over the meal—with her choosing a crab roll and them sharing an order of French fries—they speculated about what it would have been like to be a teenager in 1969 and about the good and bad features of communes.
After they’d argued over the bill and he’d finally agreed to splitting it down the middle, Aaron said, “The SkySongs should be coming back next week. How about you email me the photos of Lucy, and I’ll show them to Di and Seal.”
“Thank you. With no one else providing any useful information, I’m not optimistic, but I want to know I’ve exhausted all avenues.” She pulled out her phone, asked for his email address, and tapped away.
“I’ll let you know what they say.” He wasn’t optimistic either, though he’d sure like to be able to help Eden find her aunt.
“Would you ask about Starshine, too? Hopefully, Di SkySong will know how things turned out for her.” She wrinkled her nose. “Call me crazy, but I hate not knowing how a story ends.”
“Sure. I’m curious, too.” If the story ending was an unhappy one, would he tell Eden? Even though she was strong and capable, for some reason she made him feel protective. It was odd; until now he’d only ever felt protective of Miranda and Ariana.
Eden made him feel things. Respect, maybe even some envy. Annoyance sometimes. Frustration. Tenderness. The shell around his heart had never been endangered by any other lover, yet now it had developed a hairline crack and a weird mix of emotions was trickling out. The experience was confusing and disturbing. It was a good thing she was leaving tomorrow.
“Let’s go to the community hall and I’ll teach you the two-step,” he said.
As they left the Blue Heron Bistro, Eden asked, “Am I dressed all right? The woman at the store said it was either a long skirt or jeans, and she suggested fancy cowgirl boots. I couldn’t imagine buying cowgirl boots and besides, I don’t want to do any permanent damage when I stomp all over your feet.”
He chuckled. “You look great, Eden. And hopefully I’m a good enough teacher that there’ll be no stomping.”
On the way to the parking lot, with his arm around her slender waist, he asked, “You ever gonna wear that skirt again when you get back to Ottawa? Or those pretty earrings?”
She reached up to set an earring swinging. “The skirt will be nice for relaxing after work or at my parents’ house. And the earrings if I go out for dinner.”
Who would she be going out with? She’d said her priorities didn’t include dating. He mulled that over as he drove the short distance to the Quail Ridge Community Hall. Music was already throbbing out the open doors of the steepled wooden building, a pioneer church that had been repurposed and expanded after the congregation built a fancier one.
“That’s country music, isn’t it?” Eden asked as they went up the stairs. “I don’t know much about it, but I recognize the twang.”
“Yeah, that one’s c
ountry, but B-B-Zee plays a mix. Country, pop, rock, folk songs. Not much hip hop, rap, or that kind of stuff. A few numbers they wrote themselves.” As he spoke, one song ended and another began, an edgier one, as if to illustrate his point. He cocked his ear. “They sound different tonight. I’m guessing . . .” As he and Eden walked through the door, he gazed toward the stage. “Yeah, they’ve got a third B tonight.”
On stage were three sixtysomething men dressed in faded jeans and casual shirts or, in Forbes’s case, a tie-dyed T-shirt. The fourth man, much younger, wore ripped black jeans and a black tee with a hole in it. A tattoo snaked down one arm. “You know Jonathan Barnes and Forbes Blake,” Aaron said. “The other older guy with the big mustache is Christian Zabec. The younger one with the guitar is Forbes’s son, Julian. He’s a professional musician, making a bit of a name for himself. In Canada, anyhow.” Julian, a couple of years younger than Aaron, had, like him, been a loner in school. And, like Miranda, he’d dropped out and left the island. Now he came back once or twice a year to visit his parents and half brother.
Aaron walked into the room, looking for space at one of the tables edging the dance floor, and then realized Eden hadn’t budged. Turning back, he saw her staring at the stage. “Eden?”
“He looks like a tarnished angel. The tattered black, the tattoo, and that golden hair.”
He stared again at Julian. A tarnished angel? What the hell did that mean? And then it sank in, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Jealousy was such an unaccustomed emotion that at first he didn’t recognize it. “You think he’s hot.”
“Every woman who’s still breathing would think he’s hot.” Eden glanced up at him, mischief dancing in her eyes. “The same as with you, Mr. Gabriel. Though in a different way.”
“The same but in a different way? I’m lost.”
She huffed out air, as if the concept was entirely obvious and he was a dunce for not understanding. “You’re charming, laid-back hot. He’s intense, playing-with-fire hot. Do you know what I mean?”
Julian was the type of man Miranda and their mom went for. “Got it.” Frowning, he said, “I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.”
Her eyes widened. “Of course he’s not. Not in the least. Me, with a musician like that? I don’t think so.” Her lips quirked. “That doesn’t mean I can’t look and enjoy, though.”
More at ease now, Aaron joked, “When men look at pretty women, they get dumped on. How come women are allowed to look?”
“Because on occasion the double standard needs to work in our favor,” she shot back.
Laughing, he laced his fingers through hers and they walked across the big room. Aaron exchanged waves and hellos with a number of islanders and chatted with a few. He introduced Eden to Sonia Russo, Forbes Blake’s wife and stepmother to Julian. She was sitting with her son, Luke Chandler, who’d been a year behind Aaron in high school. The island veterinarian and a widower raising young twin boys, Luke had a life that was pretty much the opposite of Julian’s unattached, on-the-road musician existence.
A tarnished angel. Honestly. Women.
Glory waved from a small table, and he steered Eden in her direction. “Want to sit with us?” Glory asked. “Pull up a couple of chairs. Brent went to get beers.”
“Thanks,” Eden said, as Aaron found chairs and squeezed them in around the table.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked Eden, and then went to the crowded bar to get a glass of wine for her and a light beer for himself.
Waiting for the drinks, he watched the dance floor. Busy already, it held a mix of residents and tourists dressed in everything from shorts and flip-flops to cowboy boots and hats. Ages ranged from twenties to the eightysomething Nelsons, him deftly maneuvering his wheelchair while his petite wife perched in his lap with her arms around his shoulders.
And there it was: the dream. Oh, not being confined to a chair, of course. But that happily-ever-after dream. Someone who loved you, who gave you a home, who stuck by you through thick and thin, who put up with your bad habits just as you put up with theirs.
His mom hadn’t given him that, nor had his grandparents. He and Miranda would always love each other, but she had her own life and wasn’t about to return to Destiny with Ariana and nest build so Uncle Aaron had a ready-made family. In his teens, Aaron had hardened his heart to the idea of ever finding what the Nelsons shared. He’d convinced himself he didn’t want it. So why, now, was he watching them with envy?
The bartender handed him the bottle of beer and glass of wine. Across the room, through the shifting patterns of dancers, Aaron saw Eden with Glory. Brent hadn’t made it back to the table yet and the two women were deep in conversation. The soft smile on Eden’s lips made him guess they were discussing Gertie Montgomery.
The patterns of people and colors shifted and grew hazy, like he’d had too much to drink even though he hadn’t yet touched a drop. Or like he was dreaming. He saw one couple who looked familiar: a tall, dark-haired man and a brown-haired woman, their arms wrapped around each other with long-time familiarity and love. They looked like him and Eden, except both heads were streaked with gray.
A vision of the future? A dream?
He squeezed his eyes shut, raised the bottle to his mouth for a long swallow of beer, and looked again. The room was back to normal. So was his stupid brain. He wasn’t a dreamer. He wasn’t falling in love with a woman who’d made her priorities crystal clear—and they didn’t include him. To wish for a future with Eden would be to set himself up for heartbreak.
As he wove through the crowded tables that lined the dance floor, he realized something. From what Eden had said out at the old commune, she’d gone through this same thought process. She’d thought she might be developing feelings for him but quickly understood that it would be crazy to do so. She had concluded that he wasn’t the kind of man she could ever love.
He figured she was right about that. He also knew he wasn’t the kind of man who could ever allow himself to love.
“Have a drink.” He thrust the wineglass at her. “Then let’s dance the night away.”
She and Glory both stared at him in surprise. That soft, revealing look left Eden’s face and she gave him a bright smile. “Prepare to have your feet stomped on.”
* * *
Saturday morning, Eden woke in her bed at the B and B to the alarm’s insistent beep. Despite the need to shower, dress, and throw the last items in her carry-on, she lay under the covers for one more moment.
Her feet and legs ached. She and Aaron had danced until late, some fast numbers but also some slow, poignant ones during which she’d nestled close to him and felt their bodies move as one. At one point, she’d buried her face against his shoulder to hide the tears in her eyes. The band had been singing a song called “Fly Away With Me,” which they said was written by Matteo Brancaleoni. The lyrics, about honoring your feelings and giving your heart, about flying away together like eagles, touched a chord in her heart.
How foolish to long for a dream that was impossible for so many reasons.
She’d pulled away before the song ended, using the excuse that it was almost eleven. “It’s late, and my flight’s early tomorrow. As you well know, because you’re the pilot.”
“I’d better take you back to the Once,” Aaron had said, “so you can get a decent sleep.”
He hadn’t invited her to his place and she hadn’t suggested it. If they’d made love one last time, she’d have ended up sobbing. Her brain knew it would be crazy to care for him, but her heart seemed to have a mind of its own.
They’d driven without exchanging more than a few words, the top up on his Jeep. After a night of booming music, the comparative silence—just a few rattly vehicle sounds—made her ears ring. When he pulled up in front of the B and B, he’d climbed out and walked her up the steps. At the front door, he put his hands on her shoulders and placed a kiss on the top of her head, then her nose, and finally her lips. Light kisses, yet she felt each
one with an intensity he no doubt didn’t intend.
After their lips brushed, they’d murmured, “Good night,” and she’d gone inside, again battling tears. She’d walked through the lobby, remembering how Bernie had warned her about Aaron that very first morning—and how Eden had blithely asserted that her heart was in no danger.
Upstairs in bed, she’d refused to let the tears fall.
Fortunately, she’d slept soundly until the alarm went off. But now, as she forced herself out of bed, depression slowed her movements. The taste of failure was sour in her mouth. She’d failed to find her aunt and hated to think how disappointed her mom would be. She’d let irrational feelings spoil her enjoyment of her rebound fling and now her memories of lovely times on Destiny would be tinged with sadness.
In the shower, she scrubbed vigorously, trying to rub energy into her body. Tonight, she’d be home in Ottawa. Dad or Kelsey would pick her up at the airport, and then they’d all be sitting around the table at her parents’ house. Even if she wasn’t returning with good news, the people she loved would welcome her with open hearts.
She dressed in comfortable travel clothes and threw the last odds and ends into her bag. The carry-on was lighter than when she’d come because she’d made enough purchases that she had packed a box and shipped it home the day before.
In the breakfast room, she picked up a takeout cup of coffee along with one of Bernie’s delicious raspberry-oat muffins, which she’d eat in Vancouver International Airport while she waited for her flight.
Bernie and Jonathan came into the lobby to say good-bye. Bernie, who hadn’t been at the dance last night, was perky. Jonathan, who’d still been playing the fiddle when Eden and Aaron left, looked worn-out but content. “You’ve been perfect hosts,” Eden told them, “and your B and B is wonderful.”
“I hope we’ll see you back one day,” Bernie said.
“Thanks, but I’m afraid that’s not likely.” Eden didn’t envision holiday time in her future. And if she did take time off work, the last place she’d go was an island filled with memories of Aaron—not to mention the possibility of seeing him with his latest hookup.
