by Susan Fox
When Ariana reached into the still water of the pool and tried to catch a sculpin, it was Caleb who said solemnly, “No, don’t do that. It hurts them if we touch them.”
“Hurt fish?” She turned big dark brown eyes on him.
He nodded.
“I pet doggies,” she said.
Luke noticed that Miranda had her phone out, taking pictures.
“Doggies like it,” Brandon said. “Fish don’t.”
“Some doggies don’t like it,” Caleb corrected. “Some bite when they’re mad or hurt. You have to be careful.”
Luke smiled to hear his son parrot his own explanation and warning. “That’s right,” he agreed. “Ariana, you shouldn’t pet a doggy unless you’re with a grown-up who says it’s okay.”
Her face screwed up, perhaps in disappointment but more likely in puzzlement. Adult rules must be so confusing for kids, especially before their brains had the capability for analytical reasoning.
“I wonder if this beach has shells,” Miranda said, stowing her phone in her pocket and shifting to a less complicated topic. “What do you think, sweetie? Want to see if we can find some shells?”
“I find shells,” the girl agreed.
Her mom gave her a boost down from the rocky outcropping and the pair walked along the beach, just up from where the ocean, a dark greenish-indigo under the pale gray sky, lapped the shore. Periodically, one or the other bent to pick up something and show it to the other.
Ariana was a bright, sweet child, Luke thought, a testament to Miranda’s parenting.
He spent some time with his sons, telling them a bit more about the ocean creatures, and then the boys tired of the lesson and ran off to find sticks to throw for the dogs.
Hiking his butt onto a large, smooth log, still damp from the rain, Luke watched the peaceful Sunday afternoon scene and clicked a few shots of his own. If it had been July rather than February, some of his neighbors, along with relatives and friends, would be on the beach, but today his little group had it to themselves. He was truly grateful to Annie and Randall for providing his family with such a wonderful place to live.
Miranda glanced over at him, said a few words to her daughter, and then, leaving Ariana to play in the pebbly sand, came to sit beside Luke. “Islanders are nature folks, aren’t they?” she said. “It’s all about the great outdoors.” Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright—results, he figured, of being in that very outdoors. He wanted to run his finger across one of those flushed cheeks and touch his lips to hers, find out if they were chilly or warm.
“Hard not to be,” he said, “when it really is so great. And so present.”
“There’s nature in Vancouver,” she said mildly. “The mountains, Stanley Park and the other parks, the beaches. Even in the heart of the city, there are flowers and trees.”
“Uh-huh.”
Her lips curved and she ducked her head. “Yes, Destiny’s more outdoorsy. I’m getting used to it. Though . . . promise you won’t tell Aaron this?”
Intrigued, he said, “Promise.”
“I like your place better than his. His is so wildernessy. The cabin’s in a forest, tall trees all around. It’s wilder than here, kind of spooky, especially at night. You’ve got a nice big piece of property, but it’s landscaped. It’s in a neighborhood.” Her gaze rested on her daughter as she spoke. “Aaron’s only neighbor is Lionel, and there’s just a trail through the woods connecting their houses.”
“But Aaron likes it.”
“Loves it. Eden seems to, too. And that’s what matters.”
“Are you and Ariana living there with them?”
She shook her head. “At first, when they were dating long distance. But not when she moved here and they got engaged. They needed their privacy.”
“So where’s home now?”
“A cabin at SkySong.”
“SkySong? Di and Seal’s place? Oh, that’s right, Aaron’s fiancée is related to them, isn’t she?”
“Di is Eden’s mom’s long-lost sister. A hippie runaway who joined the commune on Destiny back in 1969, along with her runaway boyfriend, Seal. Di and Helen—Eden’s mother—hadn’t been in touch since their teens, then Helen found a letter from her sister that their parents had hidden away. It mentioned the commune on Destiny, and Eden came here to follow that clue.”
“Huh. And she not only found Di and Seal, but met Aaron.”
“Now she and her parents and sister have moved here. Her family is living in a cabin at SkySong, and Eden and Aaron are planning their wedding.”
Watching his innocent little boys, Luke vowed to do everything in his power to raise them to be happy and secure, not teens who’d want to run away from home. Still, from what he understood, the sixties had been a kind of magical, if crazy, time in history. Musing, he said, “That old commune must’ve been quite a place. I think my stepdad spent a little time there, though he doesn’t talk much about it.”
“Nor do Di and Seal.” She frowned slightly. “Which seems odd. I guess maybe they’re embarrassed about all the drugs and free love and stuff that must’ve gone on. But I can see the appeal of a place where young people could take their dreams, be free of society’s rules.”
“Still the rebel at heart, are you?” he teased.
She gave her head a quick shake. “Not now, with a daughter to raise.”
That was what he’d figured, and her answer reassured him. Returning to the original topic, he said, “So you’re in one of those cabins at SkySong?”
“Yes. Di and Seal offered and I didn’t feel right about it, but they kind of insisted. Everyone pretty much insisted.”
“Why didn’t you feel right about it?”
“They’re not charging me rent. It’s charity.”
“Is there such a thing as charity within a family?” That wasn’t how things worked in his family. Money, time, and other resources were shared with a generous spirit.
“They’re not my family. They’re Aaron’s.”
“And you and Ariana are his family. His only family?”
“Unless you count grandparents in Florida who we haven’t communicated with in more than a decade.”
“Oh, too bad,” he murmured. Clearly, things hadn’t gone well when Miranda and Aaron’s grandparents had taken them in after their mom’s death. He was getting a better idea why Miranda had hated this island, and it wasn’t all about missing city life.
She shrugged. “It’s better that way.”
He was about to pursue the topic, but she said, “Know what that elaborate structure is?” She pointed to a sandy part of the beach where her daughter was building something out of damp sand, pebbles, and sticks, so self-sufficient in her play this afternoon. The little girl’s lips moved as if she was chattering to invisible companions.
Again, Miranda was changing the subject. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he accepted the distraction and guessed, “A castle?”
“A fairy castle.”
He chuckled. “The boys build castles, too, but the kind with moats and battlements.” Right now, though, the twins were throwing sticks into the ocean for the two dogs. The boys were haphazard pitchers. The dogs had worked things out so Honey chased the sticks that flew for yards into the cold sea, leaving the ones that went only a short distance for tiny, elderly Pigpen.
The dogs faithfully returned each stick to the twins, shaking vigorously so that droplets flew out in a blizzard. Then, panting, tails wagging, they waited for the next toss.
“Those are the happiest dogs in the world,” Miranda said.
“Yeah. Give dogs a beach, a good meal, or a chew toy and they’re in heaven.” He felt a pang of envy. Not that his life was unhappy, but it sure hadn’t turned out the way he’d once believed it would. “Wish it was that easy for us humans,” he said quietly. “I suppose it could be, but we’re too complicated. We make things complicated, don’t we?”
* * *
Miranda gave a wry smile. “Oh yeah, human beings ma
ke things complicated.” She watched her daughter happily chattering away to herself—or to the fairies—as she worked. Life had been easier before Ariana, but she wouldn’t trade her daughter for anything in the world.
She went on. “But it’s not always us making things complicated. It’s the circumstances of life. Like . . .” She pressed her lips together. Should she say what she was thinking? But she’d seen the sadness in Luke’s stunning eyes when he was speaking, and guessed he was already thinking of Candace. “Like losing your wife,” she said quietly. “The boys growing up without a mom. You had no control over that, and you’d have done anything to prevent it.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“I was in love with Ariana’s father.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, it was nothing like you and Candace, kindred spirits from when you were kids. But I gave him my heart and he said he loved me. It turned out to be just words. He was an actor. He used words and body language as tools to get what he wanted.”
“He sounds like a tool,” Luke said.
She gave a surprised laugh. “Yeah, kind of. Anyhow, we used condoms, but something went wrong.” Since then, she’d changed to a more reliable form of birth control, not that she’d had much chance to put it to the test.
Down the shore, Ariana’s pink coat was trailing in the damp, seaweedy sand, but it was washable. Besides, what did dirty clothes matter when her daughter was having fun? “When I found out I was pregnant, I was thrilled. I had these crazy dreams of—” She stopped abruptly. What was it about this man that had her starting to open up about things she never shared? This was why she’d been wary about accepting his invitation. And maybe, if she was completely honest with herself, it was why she’d come. To explore this unusual and compelling bond that might be the beginning of a friendship.
“Dreams of?” he prompted.
“Oh, nothing.” She dipped her head and studied her well-worn red shoes.
“Of love, a home, a family?” The sadness in his voice brought her head up again.
Perhaps that was why she found herself wanting to reveal things to him. Though he made her feel inadequate in comparison—he’d had a happy marriage to his kids’ mom; he had a successful career; he’d always given his children a stable home—they had one thing in common. They’d both suffered. In the grand scheme of things, perhaps his sorrows were in fact bigger ones than hers. How did a dead wife and dead father stack up against an unknown father, a loser mom who OD’d on cocaine, sucky grandparents, and a string of failed romances?
She squared her shoulders and looked Luke straight in the eye. “Yes. That was my dream. That’s always been my dream. I wonder what the Fates have against the two of us, that they didn’t grant us the dream?”
He shook his head. “Beats the hell out of me.”
“We have great kids, though,” she said. “Healthy, happy ones. We do have love, even if it’s not the full package we dreamed of.”
“You’re right.” He stared down the beach.
Her gaze followed his. It was a gray day, still damp and chilly after the rain, but none of the kids minded a bit. Ariana was off in her imaginary fairy world, and the twins and dogs showed no signs of tiring of the stick game.
She brought her focus back to Luke’s face, a handsome one with regular features, made special by his amazing eyes. And by the emotions that so often flickered close to the surface: his love for his kids, his caring for animals, his sorrow over the loss of his wife, and occasionally, as now, a pensiveness, like he was pondering deep issues.
He turned back to her and said, “I’m not the strongest person.”
“What?” His words caught her off guard. “How do you mean?”
“It’s a thing I learned about myself. When I was ten and my dad died, I couldn’t handle it on my own.”
“Your mom . . .”
“Was so shattered herself, she wasn’t there for me. It wasn’t her fault. She just wasn’t strong enough either. Then Forbes came along, and she had their love to put her together again.”
“And you had no one,” she said sympathetically. She, at least, had always had Aaron.
“No, I did. I had Candace. Other friends too, but she was the special one. I could talk to her about anything. I could be sad with her, and I found that I could be happy. She helped me get through it all. My dad’s death, then my mom falling for Forbes. Getting a new family. So many changes, but she was always there. She and her parents. I did homework at their kitchen table, ate Randall’s cookies, listened to Annie’s flights of fancy as she brainstormed video games.”
“I’m glad you had them.” And envious. “A home away from home.”
He smiled affectionately. “I had another of those, too. With Viola.”
“Viola?”
“Viola Cruickshank, the vet before me. I took an injured cat to her, and she basically took me in. She let me help out, and she taught me. I loved the animals. Loved helping heal them. In a way, I love her, too.” He chuckled. “Though she’d hate it if I told her so. She’s not exactly a people person.”
“You became a vet because of her.”
“Her and the animals.” He did a quick visual check of his kids. He did that a lot, just as she did with Ariana.
This time he raised his hand in a wave, and she saw that another couple of adults had come down to the beach, a black-haired man in cargo pants and a Cowichan Indian sweater and a woman in jeans, a black jacket, and a purple hijab. They waved back.
“Neighbors?” she asked.
“Yes. Dr. Shakoor and her husband. I bet you’ll be seeing them in the store soon. They’re expecting their first baby later this year.”
Miranda watched as the couple strolled along the beach, their arms around each other. Though envy nipped her, she truly hoped nothing got in the way of their hopes for the future.
“Diversity,” Luke said.
When she turned to him, he winked.
She rolled her eyes. Yes, she’d realized that he was right, this island was almost as culturally diverse as Vancouver. He didn’t need to keep hammering the point home. “Tell me more about Viola.”
“When I graduated from vet school, she was almost sixty. She wanted to volunteer with Veterinarians Without Borders while she was healthy enough to handle it. So I took over the practice. When she’s not overseas, I sometimes consult with her and she comes in now and then to fill in for me if I have to do kid-related stuff. Feeding her addiction, she calls it.” He grinned, that warm, engaging smile.
Usually it made her want to smile back, but the joking mention of addiction cut too close to home. Forcing away thoughts of her mom, she managed to say lightly, “I can see you doing the same, after you eventually retire.”
“Retire? Who’s planning to retire?” he joked. “But anyhow,” he went on, sounding more serious, “I was saying about how I’m not strong enough to get through stuff on my own. After Candace died, I was shattered, grieving, and I had two babies. I needed help. From my parents, Candace’s parents. From Candace, because, thank God, we’d talked about how we wanted to raise our children. I draw on those memories all the time.”
He glanced at Miranda. “I’m fine with needing help. With not being all that strong and self-sufficient.”
Lucky him, to have always had someone there to ask. What she’d learned was that people went missing. Physically or emotionally. Her mom had, and her grandparents. It wasn’t fair to always keep asking Aaron for help. Besides, what if—horrible thought—one day he wasn’t there either? “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”
He scratched his jaw, fingers rasping against his Sunday stubble. Would that scruff of beard abrade her skin if he kissed her, or would it feel soft?
She gave an internal head-shake. Luke wasn’t her type, so why was she thinking about the slightly abrasive caress of his beard against her face? Or between her legs . . .
Hoping she wasn’t blushing, she tuned in when he finally said, “Partly ’cause you’re easy
to talk to. But also, you have this thing about pride and being independent. I guess I wanted to let you know that I’m more about people supporting one another. Maybe I’m not as strong as you. But that’s who I am.”
“Okay,” she said again. “So we’re different. That’s only one of the many, many ways.”
“But I like you.” He gazed at her, the gold and green flecks bright in his gray eyes. “I’ve enjoyed this afternoon.”
“Me too.” It had felt . . . honest. Except for not sharing her weird little fantasies about sex with him. She only hoped—or did she really?—that he wasn’t also fantasizing about her. That wasn’t what their relationship was supposed to be about. They were seeing if they might be friends. And that was how their conversation had gone. Friendly. Respectful. Luke might disagree with her on some things, but when he told her his opinion it didn’t come across as if he was telling her what to do. They’d talked like equal adults.
Here, on the semiprivate beach adjoining his million-dollar mansion.
She huffed out air in a soft snort. Yeah, like she’d ever be Luke Chandler’s equal.
“I’d invite you to stay for dinner,” he said, “but—”
“No, of course not.” She rose, brushing off the slightly damp backside of her jeans. “We’ve already overstayed our welcome.”
“It’s not that.” He stood up, too, his gaze scanning the beach.
Quickly she pulled out her phone and clicked a shot of him, and then another when he turned to her with an amused smile. She had a feeling that whatever Luke was doing when she aimed a camera at him, the photo would turn out well.
“It’s just,” he said, “that I figured dinner could be a bit, uh, overwhelming. Mom and Forbes are coming over, and Annie and Randall. It’s a Sunday night tradition. I host and provide some of the food, and they bring the rest. But if you’d like to stay—”
“God, no,” she said fervently. “I mean, thanks, but yeah, that’s not . . .” She shook her head. “Besides, we’ve got a Sunday dinner tradition at SkySong, too. And I need to get back to help out. And Ariana needs a nap.” She only hoped her daughter could be persuaded to leave the fairy sandcastle without a major fuss.
