The first two passengers, a married couple from Vancouver who’d spent the holiday on the island, approached, holding hands and smiling. Kam had already brought down their luggage and stowed it in the plane. He came down the ramp behind the couple, carefully supporting Mrs. Perkins, an eighty-something-year-old bundled up in a wool coat and a bright red knitted hat. Over Kam’s shoulder hung a flowered tote bag.
“Good morning, Mrs. Perkins,” Jillian said. “Just a day trip today, I see.” The woman, who was flying to Victoria, was booked to return that afternoon.
“I’m getting another pesky test at the hospital and I’ve an appointment with my ophthalmologist to discuss whether it’s time to get my second cataract done.” The woman tapped the frame of her thick-lensed glasses. “The joys of aging, my dear. It’s not for the faint of heart. But my granddaughter’s off for Christmas break so she’ll drive me around and we’ll have a lovely lunch somewhere.”
While Cole and Michael waited on the wharf, Jillian and Kam got the elderly woman settled in the middle row and the married couple in the back row. “I’ll let you two fight over who sits up front and who keeps Mrs. Perkins company,” Jillian told her son and his father.
Cole, who always wanted to sit beside her, surprised her. “Dad can have the best seat.”
It had taken him a few days to call Michael “Dad.” Jillian felt a poignant tug at her heart every time he did it and every time she saw the resulting glow in Michael’s dark eyes.
Mrs. Perkins’s eyesight might be failing but her hearing proved sharp because, as Michael slid past her to take the seat beside Jillian’s, she said, “You’re Cole’s father? I heard a rumor you were on Destiny Island.”
Of course you did, Jillian thought.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Once seated, he turned to look at the woman. “I’m Michael Dhillon. I came to visit Cole and Jillian for the holidays.”
“He lives in Toronto,” Cole chipped in, slipping into the seat beside Mrs. Perkins. “He’s an architect! He designs all kinds of buildings but he doesn’t actually build them himself.”
“Is that right?” she said.
Jillian took the pilot’s seat, started the engine, and made sure everyone was buckled in. She did the engine run-up and then, assured it was functioning properly, signaled Kam to untie the plane. Scanning the harbor, Jillian taxied away from the dock, giving her passengers the standard safety and flight information.
After completing her preflight checklist, she faced into the wind and increased speed, glad the ocean and the skies were calm. Michael would have a great first flight.
She retracted the water rudders, opened the throttle, and eased back on the steering yoke. The Beaver’s nose rose, which always made her think that the plane was as eager as she to leap into the sky. She moved the stick forward and the seaplane climbed onto the step, the water pressure moving back along the floats. More speed; she felt the plane’s response; and they were free of the ocean.
Behind her, Cole cheered and Mrs. Perkins, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the engine, said, “I never get tired of that moment.”
“Me either,” Jillian said, adjusting the angle of the plane’s nose and setting her course for the Port of Victoria.
She glanced at Michael, very aware of his strong, blue-jeaned thighs and the faint scent of cedar. She really, really hoped he could relate to this magical world of hers. “What do you think?”
Chapter Sixteen
When Michael turned to look at her, his eyes were wide and a grin lit his face. “This is pretty damned—darned—cool.”
“It is.” But for once she didn’t mean flying as much as having him beside her sharing the experience.
He gazed at her hands on the steering yoke, and then at the instrument panel, and he began to ask questions. She gave him the usual “Seaplane Flying 101” lesson she reserved for inquisitive passengers, and Cole eagerly added his perspective.
When she descended into Victoria’s busy, scenic harbor, Cole pointed out the stately Empress Hotel and dignified legislative buildings. Sounding proud of his knowledge, he told Michael that both were the work of the famous architect Francis Rattenbury.
Once she’d docked, Jillian helped Mrs. Perkins deplane and meet up with her granddaughter, and then she took off again, Cole in the window seat the woman had occupied.
Michael asked more questions about the technical aspects of flying as well as about the islands and ocean traffic below them. She was pleased by his interest and happy that the conversation left her little time to muse over how appealing he was. And yet flying was so much about simply being “at one” with the experience—it was a rather Zen-like state, she and Aaron agreed—and she wanted Michael to feel that.
Reaching Vancouver, they flew over English Bay with its usual scattering of tankers and container ships waiting to enter the port. She pointed out the beaches, West End condominiums, and Stanley Park. “This is the First Narrows Bridge,” she said as they approached the elegant structure, “more commonly called Lions Gate.”
Cole pointed out more things of interest: tourists walking the Stanley Park seawall, the huge sulfur pile at a commercial dock, a seaplane taking off below them, a tug towing a ship stacked with multicolored containers looking no bigger than Lego bricks from up here.
Cleared for landing by the air control tower, Jillian took the Beaver down and taxied into the Vancouver Harbour Flight Centre seaplane terminal. Blue Moon Air was one of several companies using the terminal, their logo sign marking their spot on a finger of wharf.
There, she helped the married couple deplane and gave them their luggage. Michael and Cole climbed out to stretch their legs, and followed Jillian up to the terminal. She checked in with Tracy, who worked for Blue Moon Air and several other small, local seaplane businesses.
Jillian then escorted the next group of passengers down the ramp. The single mom and her two-month-old baby were Destiny Islanders returning from a holiday visit with the baby’s grandparents. The other family, a fortyish couple with a boy a year or two older than Cole, said they were tourists spending their winter holiday in the Pacific Northwest. The kid, wide-eyed, said, “These seaplanes are the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! I can’t believe I get to fly in one.”
Cole said, “My mom’s the pilot!”
“That is so super cool!”
Michael came close to murmur to Jillian, “Want to give the boy my seat?”
Did his breath really caress her ear like a warm, erotic touch, or was it imagination that made her shiver? “He’d love it. Thanks.”
When she made the offer, the kid almost levitated with excitement.
Jillian stowed the luggage, then settled the single mom in the two-seat last row, her baby in her arms. The excited boy’s parents went in the three-seat middle row with Cole.
“Michael,” she said, before he climbed in to take the seat beside the single mom, “for this flight, try turning off your brain and being in the moment.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s great that you’re interested in flying, and I’d be happy to answer all your questions some other time. But try just experiencing it. Use all your senses. Mellow out and enjoy.”
Humor twinkled in his eyes. “I won’t need to ask questions this time anyhow.”
What did that mean? Had he already learned everything he wanted to know? This wasn’t the time to ask.
Everyone was bound for Destiny, so the flight could have been an as-the-crow-flies one, but instead, for the sake of the tourists as well as Michael, she made it more scenic, flying west to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island, then down through the scattered islands off the coast. She pointed out some sights and responded to questions from the boy and his parents, with Cole again offering comments.
She was proud of her son. He was smart, a quick learner, personable, and confident. So far, Michael’s unexpected appearance in their lives didn’t seem to have had any adverse effect, and she’d do everything in her powe
r to make sure things stayed that way.
When they landed at Blue Moon Harbor, Kam was waiting on the wharf to tie up the Beaver. “A beautiful day for flying,” he said when Jillian hopped out of the plane. Reading the envy in his brown eyes, she said, “Sorry you haven’t had a chance to get up during the holidays. We’ll make it happen next week, for sure.”
The slim young man, who under Aaron’s supervision handled the business end of Blue Moon Air, was an aspiring pilot. For Christmas, Aaron had given him a gift certificate for a dozen lessons, which meant Jillian handling more flights so Aaron would be free to take Kam up.
After everyone had deplaned, the tourist family, with Kam’s and Cole’s help, toted their luggage up to the office where they would phone for their rental car and collect brochures. Cole promised to tell them about his favorite places and things to do.
Alone on the wharf with Michael, Jillian gazed up at him. “How did you like it? Did you find out what I meant about mellowing out and experiencing it?”
“I did. Being in the back row helped.”
“Really? But the view’s better from the front.”
“It sure as hell is.” The twinkle was back in his eyes.
Unsure what he meant, she said, “So . . .”
The twinkle gave way to something hotter, more intense. “You are so sexy when you fly.”
“Oh,” she breathed as corresponding heat raced through her.
“I wanted so badly to touch you, so I tried to distract myself by asking questions.” He swallowed. “Nothing helps. It’s driving me crazy.”
The wise thing would be to say the attraction was one sided and he needed to get over it. Instead, she admitted, “Me too.” It took all her willpower to not step closer to him. “I’m afraid to touch you,” she said. “Because I want to so much, and I shouldn’t.”
“Being with you is painful, but when I’m not with you all I want is to see you again.”
As he spoke, she nodded in agreement. “Yes.” She shot a glance up to the office at the top of the ramp, to make sure Cole was still inside.
“The attraction’s way more intense than it used to be,” he said.
“I know.” For her, it was because she’d come to know him and to care deeply. Was there any chance he felt the same way?
“Do you think it’s the appeal of the forbidden?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “The what?”
“Like how, with Cole, if you tell him he can’t download a particular app, he gets even more determined to do it. We’ve decided we can’t have sex, so it’s even more appealing. Until it’s this all-consuming desire.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, an automatic reaction to hide the pain they must reflect. No, he didn’t have feelings for her. She was only a taboo lust object. Well, that certainly set things straight. No way should she fantasize about any kind of happy family ending for them. Fighting to keep her voice level, she said, “That’s an interesting theory. I suppose it’s possible. Which means the obsession will fade as soon as the next shiny new thing comes along.”
In other words, when Michael returned to Toronto and dated one of his sleek city women, his desire would transfer to her.
Leaving Jillian here on Destiny Island trying to forget that she’d come close to falling in love with her son’s father. The man who would be in their lives as a permanent fixture.
Chapter Seventeen
On the second to last day of December, Michael sat at the table in Jillian’s dining room alcove, working on his laptop to refine the plans for his parents’ reno. Cole sprawled on the floor using his Young Architect kit to design the kind of house he thought Harry Potter would like to live in.
The door to the apartment opened and Freckles, who’d been dozing near Cole, jumped up with a bark. Jillian’s voice called, “Anyone home?”
“Hi, Mom! We’re in here.”
Michael looked up as she entered the room, her cheeks pink from the cold, pulling a long blue scarf from around her neck and looking too damned beautiful. Remaining “just friends” was sheer hell. “Did the flight go okay?” he asked. Fog had delayed the departure of her morning flight to Vancouver.
“Great. There were only wisps of fog, making the scenery moody and beautiful.”
“We’ve eaten lunch,” he said, “but we left some for you.”
“Chicken and rice soup,” Cole said enthusiastically, “with PB and RJ sandwiches.”
“How did I know that?” Jillian joked.
Michael had been skeptical when Cole introduced him to his favorite lunch, but he’d become a fan. When you dipped a peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwich into chicken and rice soup, culinary magic happened. “And carrots and apples,” Michael added, to let her know he was making sure their son got his veggies and fruit. He glanced at the computer screen, where he’d been right in the middle of something.
“Go back to work,” she said.
“Thanks, I’m just . . .” As he clicked the mouse, he lost track of what he’d been saying.
Engrossed in the design, he was only vaguely aware of Jillian returning to the table to eat her soup and sandwich, then going back to the kitchen and then into the living room. He was also only marginally aware of Cole on the floor, as involved in his project as Michael was in his.
Jillian’s voice broke his focus. “You’re two peas in a pod and not the best company.”
He gazed up at her, where she sat in a recliner with a book. “Sorry. When I’m caught up in something, I can lose track of the world around me.” Although now she was in his field of vision, he wondered how he could ever find anything more fascinating than this woman with her curvy body, bright eyes, and expression of mild annoyance. “You have the afternoon off,” he remembered. “We should all do something. Cole?”
When his son didn’t look up, he raised his voice. “Hey, Cole!”
The boy raised his head. “Huh?”
“You can work on that later.” Outside the window, it was cloudy but not raining. “Let’s go out somewhere.”
Cole tilted his head. “The beach? Freckles loves to chase sticks.”
The dog, who’d seemed to be sleeping, leaped to his feet, tail wagging madly.
Michael grinned at the boy and dog. “Sounds good to me.” He turned to Jillian. “Does that work for you?”
“If the two of you wash the dog when we come back.”
“Sure,” he said, having learned that Freckles didn’t hold back when he explored his environment.
“Sunset Cove?” Cole asked.
“Okay,” Jillian said. “It’s near the northwest end of the island,” she told Michael.
It didn’t take them long to get organized, and soon they were in Jillian’s old minivan with her in the driver’s seat, Michael beside her, and Cole and the dog behind them.
Michael had learned that Destiny Island formed a rough hourglass, the top portion smaller and less populated. Blue Moon Harbor was at the south end. One main road ran roughly up the middle of the island and he’d been on it before, noting how undeveloped Destiny was. The main industry was tourism, followed by agriculture, fishing, and the arts, so they passed a lot of farmland and fields of sheep as well as signs for artisan studios.
Sunset Cove, located on the ocean, consisted of three or four shops, a pub, and roughly three dozen houses. He noted the disparate styles of architecture, always looking for ideas.
Jillian turned left onto a narrow, tree-lined road called Orca Song Drive. Here and there a driveway, most of them unpaved, meandered off into the trees toward what he guessed were waterfront homes. She took a narrow dirt-and-gravel track, and came out not at a house but at a dead end. There was room enough to park three or four cars, but theirs was the only vehicle.
When they’d climbed out, Freckles raced ahead to a trail through the trees. Cole followed, then Jillian and then Michael, single file. Carpeted with soggy leaves and pine needles, the trail came out ten feet above a long stretch of beach that curved gently be
tween two rocky points. Logs were scattered along the shore and most of the beach was made up of rocks and pebbles, but there was also an arc of grayish brown sand. The cloudy sky gave everything a pewter tone Michael found artistically appealing.
“Good,” Jillian said. “It’s low tide.”
“Nice beach. I didn’t see a sign for it.”
“It’s the islanders’ secret one. It’s not on the tourist maps.”
The place was deserted but for a man and a black dog. Freckles had already scampered down the last zigzag of trail to the beach and was racing to greet the other dog. The two barked, tails wagging, and began what looked like a game of tag. Jillian, who’d brought her Nikon, clicked off a couple of shots.
As she and Michael trailed Cole down to the beach, the man raised a hand in greeting and they waved back. But rather than come toward them, he strode away, calling something that got lost on the wind. His dog broke off playing, stared after him, and then trotted in his wake.
“Not very sociable,” Michael commented as Freckles ran back to rejoin them.
“He’s reclusive,” Jillian said. “Some of the islanders are like that. Destiny’s a good place for eccentrics. Don’t tell a soul, but that’s Kellan Hawke, a successful thriller writer.”
Flattered that she’d shared this secret, as well as the islanders’ special beach, he said, “Huh. I saw his books on the local author table at the bookstore.” He’d noted the author’s name, to maybe buy one for his e-reader for the flight home. “They looked—”
“Come on, Dad,” Cole, who’d picked up a sturdy stick, broke in impatiently.
Michael and Jillian followed the boy across the hard-packed sand to the water’s edge, where Cole threw the stick as hard as he could into the ocean. The spotted dog flew after it, splashing into the water and swimming to fetch the stick. When Freckles swam back, Michael would swear he was grinning around his prize. The water must not be as cold as it looked.
It was, though. He found that out when the dog dropped the stick at Cole’s feet and shook energetically, spraying the boy and Michael with icy droplets. Jillian, who’d stepped back a few feet and aimed her camera, laughed. “Don’t know much about dogs, do you, Toronto boy?”
Winter Wishes Page 15
