Chapter Two
With his twin boys’ fourth birthday coming up this weekend, widower Luke Chandler was, for the millionth time, thankful for two particular Blue Moon Harbor businesses. He relied on Blowing Bubbles for stuffed animals, toys, and games, and on Dreamspinner for books.
Now, in the late afternoon of a gray January day, carrying a Dreamspinner-logoed bag with two picture books, he pushed open the door to the kids’ store. Normally, he asked Kara McConachie, the owner, for advice, but a quick scan of the bright space with its cheerfully crowded shelving and displays told him she wasn’t there. In fact, the store seemed deserted but for a stormy-faced little girl in the fenced hexagonal play area. Curly black hair framed a brown-skinned face that would probably be cute when it wasn’t all scrunched up. She looked to be somewhere between two and three. Having suffered through that age with Caleb and Brandon, that storm-cloud face made him wince in anticipation of a howl or shriek.
Hoping to ward it off, he strolled over to the multicolored plastic fence and squatted down to her level, giving a reassuring smile. “Hey there, sunshine. Are you minding the store?”
His veterinary practice clients and staff said he had a magic touch with animals. Sadly, it hadn’t carried over to his own two-year-olds, and apparently, it hadn’t improved since then because the child let out one of those piercing shrieks that could shatter glass.
“Ariana!” a woman’s voice called from the back area, where he guessed the stockroom and office must be. The voice grew closer. “Honestly, I leave you alone for one second and—oh!” The owner of the voice stopped dead and he rose to his feet.
It wasn’t Kara, but an attractive blonde who looked to be a year or two younger than his own twenty-eight. He recalled hearing that Kara had a new part-time employee, but this was the first time he’d run into her.
Her gaze darted from him to the red-faced Ariana, and then back again. With a touch of wariness, she said, “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”
“I don’t think it rang.” He walked over to the door, opened and closed it again, and there was no sound.
“I’ll tell Kara we need to get it fixed.” She reached down and hoisted the wailing child into her arms. The motion seemed effortless even though the woman’s body, revealed by snug-fitting jeans and a pale gray sweater, was slender rather than sturdy.
“Sorry about the, uh, crying,” he said. “She looked kind of thunder-cloudy and I tried to cheer her up, but it backfired. What is she? Two?”
For the first time, a smile lit the woman’s pale face, making her even prettier. Rubbing Ariana’s back as the screeches subsided to snuffles, she said, “Two years, seven months.”
“Five months to go.”
The smile brightened. “You know something about two-year-olds.”
“I had a couple of my own. We survived. Somehow.”
“Gee, thanks, that’s so encouraging.” Huge grayish-blue eyes the shade of well-washed denim danced, tweaking some association from long ago. “I call it the TTTs, the terrible two tantrums,” she said.
“Fitting.”
“Would you give me just a minute, and then I’ll be right with you?”
“Do what you need to. I’ll browse.”
But when he perused the shelves, the sound of the woman’s voice as she soothed the girl distracted him. He peeked through a menagerie of stuffed seals, kittens, puppies, and bears to watch her gently bounce her daughter in her arms. When Ariana settled down and was back in the playpen, offering pretend tea to two cloth dolls, the salesclerk came over to him. “Finding anything? Can I help?” She shoved up the sleeves of her sweater.
His gaze automatically followed the motion, to see a tattoo of a colorful dragon on her left forearm. Lots of women had dragon tattoos, especially since that Swedish bestseller. But this dragon, combined with those denim eyes—and he remembered hearing a rumor that Aaron Gabriel’s sister had returned to Destiny Island a few months earlier. Some of his clients gossiped, but he paid little attention unless their chatter related to the animals he was treating.
He looked up at her face again, trying to recall images from . . . what would it be? A dozen years ago?
“What is it?” she asked, that hint of wariness back in her voice. With her left hand, she brushed her shoulder-length hair away from her face. The gesture revealed a delicate ear, double-pierced with a dangly blue earring in one hole and a small silver heart in the other.
No black hair with fluorescent streaks; no bizarre makeup. No Goth black leather and ripped clothing. No nostril studs or eyebrow piercings. No attitude. But still there was something familiar. And did he see tiny scars where silver studs and rings might once have been? There was also her daughter’s name: Ariana, like a feminine version of Aaron. “You’re not Miranda Gabriel, are you?”
Dark brown lashes flicked down and then up again. As far as he could see—and he knew a bit about makeup, having spent years watching his wife carefully apply hers—this woman wasn’t wearing anything except maybe lip gloss.
“Yes.” She frowned at him. “Did we go to school together or something?”
She’d been a year behind him at Blue Moon High, for the couple of years between the time she moved to the island and the time she dropped out of school and ran away to Vancouver. But he’d sure noticed her. Despite the genuineness of his love for Candace and the fact that he was a total straight arrow, bad-girl Miranda had held a weird kind of allure. Like the way you could crave an ice cream sundae even though you knew it was bad for you. No, that was a poor analogy, because there’d been nothing sweet about Miranda.
Thinking of how the grown woman had cooed to her little girl, he reflected that it was more than her appearance that had changed. “You don’t remember me?” he asked. “Luke Chandler?” Why would she? She’d been a loner, a rebel, much like his stepbrother Julian. Rather than hang out with the local kids, she’d hopped the ferry over to Vancouver on weekends. She’d had nothing good to say about Destiny Island, so he’d pretty much discounted the half-heard rumor that she was back.
“Luke . . .” She scrutinized his face, and did a quick up-down of his body, not that his jeans and winter jacket would have told her much. “Wait a minute. Straight A student, dated that redheaded cheerleader?”
He swallowed at the mention of his wife. “There were a couple of Bs. And yes, I dated Candace Yuen-Byrne.” His best friend had turned into his girlfriend and then the love of his life. They’d planned a bright future but instead he’d lost her in childbirth. Fighting back a surge of melancholy, he said, “You’ve changed some.”
She snorted. “You think?”
“Ariana’s yours? Named after your brother?”
“Yes. He’s the best man I’ve ever known,” she said solemnly, making him wonder about the father who’d given Ariana her dark coloring.
She went on. “And you have two of your own, you said? You and Candace?”
He swallowed. “Yes, but no. She died giving birth, so I’m raising the twins on my own.” Before she could rush in with some platitude, he said, “They’re turning four. Two boys, identical twins. I’m looking for gift ideas.” He and the boys’ grandparents tried hard to make the birthday a day of celebration despite their own sad memories of losing Candace.
Those grayish-blue eyes, sorrowful and sincere, held his as Miranda refused to accept his attempted diversion. “I’m so sorry about Candace. It’s terrible to lose someone you love.”
Though he’d hoped to avoid this conversation, he found that her simple words touched a chord. “Yeah, it is.” He lowered his voice so her daughter wouldn’t hear. “How about you? Ariana’s dad is . . . ?”
“Isn’t. Never was, not since I told him I was pregnant.”
“Asshat.” The word burst out loudly before he could stop it. He cast a quick glance over at the little girl, but she was still happily absorbed with her dolls. “I’m sorry he ran out on you,” he told Miranda quietly.
“Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “Sometimes life sucks, as you well know. Anyhow, the guy might’ve been bad judgment but the result was Ariana, and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“I feel the same about the boys.” For their own sakes, and for the constant reminders of Candace that he saw in their light gray eyes and infectious laughter.
He and Miranda shared a smile. “So,” she said, “identical twins. What’s your approach? The same stuff for each of them so they know you love them equally, or different stuff so they know you see them as individuals?”
“Oh, they’re individuals all right. They insist on different hairstyles, different clothes. I’m not sure if it’s their reaction to looking the same or if it’s their intrinsic personalities. Maybe the latter, because Brandon’s like Candace: outgoing, impulsive, always on the go. Caleb’s more like me. He’s quieter, more reflective, and I think he prefers animals to people.”
She cocked her head, humor dancing in her eyes. “You prefer animals to people? I remember you as being a popular kid.”
He shrugged. “That was the Candace effect. She had such a wide circle of friends, I got drawn in.” He’d valued all those relationships because things at home had been weird. His dad got cancer and died, and after that his mom was kind of lost, deep in her own grief. Then she fell in love again, remarried, and Luke acquired a stepfather and a stepbrother. If it hadn’t been for Candace and her friends, and Viola Cruickshank and the animals at her veterinary clinic, he’d have been one miserable kid—like his stepbrother Julian. “I don’t prefer animals, it’s just that sometimes they’re easier to be around. They’re so straightforward.”
“I don’t know much about animals, but I agree that people are complicated. But that’s what makes them so intriguing.”
“I suppose.”
“Anyhow,” she said, “we keep getting off track. You’re here to buy presents.” She moved closer, gesturing to the shelves of stuffed animals, and a faint scent drifted his way, reminding him of the lily of the valley that bloomed in his mom’s garden in spring. He’d always liked that scent, and the simple, bell-like white flowers. He’d bet that Goth-girl Miranda hadn’t smelled like lily of the valley.
Miranda said, “We should use this window of opportunity before Ms. TTT realizes she’s no longer the center of attention.”
He laughed. It was easy to get distracted, with this new Miranda. Though she looked so conventional compared to the old days, she was even more attractive. And easy to talk to. Back then, they’d had nothing in common. Now, as single parents, they did.
In his entire life, he’d only ever dated one woman. Despite the best efforts of several well-meaning islanders, including his mom and stepdad and even his in-laws, he’d had no interest in dating since Candace died. He’d always suspected he was a one-woman man, and the fact that for four years he’d felt no desire to be anything other than friends with attractive women had confirmed it for him. But now . . .
Oh, man, what was he thinking? Was it just barely possible that he might want to date Miranda Gabriel? That was a big—no, make that gigantic—leap.
But perhaps going for coffee one day . . . Getting to know each other better. He could find out if what he was feeling was just an odd residual attraction from the fascination he’d felt as a teen. Coffee was only a small step. He could do that, couldn’t he?
“Luke? Where did you go?”
He blinked and saw Miranda gazing up at him with puzzlement.
“Sorry,” he said. “What did you say?”
“I asked if Caleb’s into stuffed animals. And, if so, what does he already have?”
“Oh, right.” He’d gotten distracted again. “Is there a man in your life now?” The words blurted out. No wonder, since he’d never done this before. With him and Candace, their relationship had evolved organically.
No surprise that his clumsy approach resulted in the beginnings of a frown. “No,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“There’s no woman in mine.”
Definitely a frown now, sketching lines across her pale forehead. “I don’t date,” she said flatly. “It’s not a good time in my life for that.”
He scrubbed a finger up the bridge of his nose, wishing he had an ounce of finesse. “I’m not sure it’s what I want either. But this is nice. Talking to you. I thought maybe we could, you know, have coffee one day. Keep talking.” And he could keep enjoying those stunning eyes, and hoping to win another of her warm smiles.
She pressed her lips together, the frown lines easing only a little. “I’m really busy. Though I only work part-time here, I’m doing online courses to get a certificate in early childhood education, so I can get a better job when we move back to Vancouver.”
“Cool.” Not the moving back to Vancouver part, though. “I’m a veterinarian, by the way.”
To his astonishment, he got what he’d wanted: one of those smiles. And he hadn’t even been trying.
“Animals rather than people,” she commented.
“Yeah, but I have to deal with the people, too. You almost need a psych degree to cope with owners of pets—or fur babies, or children, or whatever they call their critters. Even owners of livestock can be tricky.”
“You handle livestock as well as pets?”
“I treat every animal on this island, from Mr. Pettigrew’s prize-winning bull to Azalea’s goats to Suzie Jack’s newt.”
“Newt?”
“She says it’s her totem animal. Who am I to argue?”
She smiled again, and he really, really needed to have coffee with her. What the heck was going on with him?