Chapter Four
As Miranda drove to the address Luke had given her, on Tsehum Drive which wound along the west side of Blue Moon Harbor, she thought how different everything was from a year ago. Though she’d had a driver’s license when she lived in Vancouver, she’d used it only a few times a year—mostly to drive friends and their cars home when they’d had too much to drink. In the city, transit passes were her friend. She and Ariana traveled everywhere on the bus or SkyTrain: to parks, beaches, street fairs, and bargain shops. Miranda would hold her daughter as they watched city scenery go by outside the window, or read while Ariana snoozed.
Driving on Destiny, she’d initially found the scenery—agricultural fields with crops, sheep, cows, horses, even llamas; patches of forest; a few scattered farmhouses—boring after the cityscapes. It was growing on her, though, or maybe lulling her into an “island time” languidness. Here, the only excitement was when she had to brake suddenly for a squirrel, rabbit, or deer with “suicide by car” tendencies.
This Sunday afternoon, no animals had a death wish, so it was an uneventful twenty-minute drive from SkySong in her old Toyota—the one she’d had no choice but to let Aaron buy for her since public transit here sucked.
The sky was a pale, wintry blue, with a bank of gray clouds moving slowly in from the south. That was one thing this place had in common with Vancouver: it rained a lot. Not that it mattered today, as they’d be inside at a kitchen table.
She wondered what Luke’s house was like, and whether it was the one he’d shared with Candace. Had he hung on to that home and the memories it contained, or had that proved to be too painful? She wouldn’t have bet either way, but did guess that the house would be small, cozy, and cluttered with adult and kid stuff of the male variety.
When she pulled up in front of the address she’d tapped into her phone, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry, because clearly, she’d made a mistake.
“I must’ve input it wrong,” she said to her daughter, who was strapped into her car seat in the back. “Luke can’t live here. Even if he looks after all the bulls, goats, and newts on the island, he can’t possibly make that much money.”
“Luke!” Ariana said brightly. The man had made an impression on her daughter.
The house was what Miranda thought of as West Coast modern. The cedar walls and shake roof blended in with the surroundings, but this was no rustic cottage like the one her brother had built. This spectacular home had unusual angles, huge windows, and several skylights. That style did not come cheaply. Nor did the stretch of waterfront property it sat on.
“This is Tsehum Drive,” she said. “Maybe there’s a Tsehum Road or Street. I could look it up. Or I could call him. Or you and I could go home and play fairy castles.” Which would be the safer choice, and since she’d worked late last night catching up on her online courses, she needn’t feel guilty about spending the afternoon playing with her daughter. But accepting an invitation—though she still wasn’t sure why she had—and failing to show up was rude.
“Luke?” her daughter said doubtfully, and then babbled something Miranda didn’t understand.
The front door of the eye-catching house opened and two dogs bounded out, a big golden-colored one and a small mop of gray and white fur. The larger dog, she noticed as the pair ran toward the car, was missing a hind leg, but its tail wagged vigorously, as did the short, fluffy tail of the mop-dog.
She was about to reassure her daughter that the dogs looked friendly, when Ariana squealed in delight, “Doggies!”
“Sit!” a male voice yelled, and both dogs promptly planted their butts.
Miranda took a long breath and looked away from the dogs toward the door of the house. The moment she’d seen the three-legged dog, she had figured she’d come to the right place. Sure enough, Luke stood in the doorway. Somehow, his faded jeans and gray T-shirt, unprepossessing as they were, matched the house perfectly. Yes, this was his home, even though she had to wonder how he could afford it.
“There he is,” she said. “There’s Luke.”
“Luke! And doggies!”
He came down the steps as Miranda opened the car door and slid out. By the time she’d opened the back door and freed Ariana from her car seat, he was standing beside her. “Want me to take her?” he asked. “I’m guessing you have a bag or two of stuff.”
Ariana reached out to him, again saying his name.
No, this didn’t feel like a date, Miranda thought as she carefully passed her precious daughter into his waiting arms. Dating meant dancing at a club, listening to music, going to a movie, having sex. Two adults; no children. Since her daughter’s birth, she hadn’t dated much. Cash was scarce and better spent on nourishing food and birthday books than on babysitters. In the past three years, she’d only fallen for one guy—and that was her ill-fated relationship with Chef Emile at a restaurant where she’d waitressed. She’d lost not only the man but also a job that paid good tips. That was over a year ago, and since then she’d only had a few casual dates.
Aaron didn’t give her enough credit for having some common sense.
With her purse on one shoulder, a tote bag of supplies over the other, and a baking dish of apple crisp in her hands, she followed Luke to his front door, the two dogs trotting behind.
In the entranceway, still holding Ariana, Luke toe-heeled off the moccasins he wore, leaving him barefooted on a glossy floor of reddish-brown hardwood just a couple of shades lighter than his hair.
“Bare feet in February?” she commented as she put the dessert dish and her purse on a side table, and let the tote slide to the floor. “You must pay a fortune in heating costs.” In cold weather, she always kept the heat on low and bundled herself and Ariana in multiple layers.
“Nope. This house was designed to be energy-efficient.”
She bent to untie the red Converse she’d bought from a thrift store a couple years ago. This close to Luke’s feet, she appreciated how masculine and well shaped they were. Rising, sock-footed now, she cast an eye over the rest of him, confirming what she’d noticed before: the man truly was built. Better built, in fact, than a lot of the guys she’d dated. She tended toward edgy, creative types, lean in build, not healthy-looking men like Luke.
Built he might be, but he was too wholesome for her taste.
A doggy tail brushed her jean-clad legs. Distracted from her perusal of her host, she leaned down again and stretched out a hand to the golden dog. “Hey there.” As a child, she’d wished for a pet but it was never a serious wish. First came things like food, clothes, school supplies, and electricity that didn’t keep getting shut off.
“Doggies!” Ariana demanded, windmilling her arms and legs as she struggled to get free.
“Can I put her down?” Luke asked. “Will she be okay with them?”
“As long as they’re not too enthusiastic. She’s used to Chester, Lionel’s dog.” When she and Ariana had lived in the spare room at Aaron’s cottage, they’d gotten to know Chester. A total sweetheart, the aging dog belonged to Aaron’s neighbor and best friend.
Carefully Luke lowered Ariana to the floor, but held on to her hand. Miranda would have done the same thing, offering her daughter reassurance and security while allowing her the freedom and space to explore. Without even having met his kids, she knew he was a good parent.
“Hi, doggy.” Ariana reached her free hand toward the golden one.
“That’s Honey,” Luke said as the dog pressed its nose into her palm, tail beating a happy rhythm. “She’s a girl. The small one is Pigpen, and he’s a boy.”
“Pig pen?” her daughter said doubtfully.
“He’s named after a cartoon character.”
Peanuts, Miranda realized, watching the dogs closely, reassured that they weren’t the least bit aggressive.
“Honey no leg,” Ariana announced, stroking the dog’s head.
“That’s right,” Luke agreed. “She had an accident and lost one.”
While Ariana got down on the floor to stroke the fluffy, wriggling Pigpen, Luke stepped slightly away from her and murmured to Miranda, “A hit-and-run. Honey was an off-island dog, not chipped or tagged, and the owners never showed up to claim her.”
“And Pigpen?” she asked.
“He’s old and so are his owners. Health issues forced them to move in with their son, whose wife is allergic. It’d be hard to find a home for a dog like Pigpen, so the boys and I took him in. His owners can still drive, so they come visit him. Their dearest wish is that they’ll die before Pigpen, but I don’t think it’ll work out that way.”
Watching her daughter giggle as the little mop-dog licked her face, Miranda whispered, “You took in a dog that’ll die soon? Won’t that be traumatic for your boys?”
“A little, but it’s a life lesson. Every living creature dies one day.” He swallowed. “Sometimes before their time.”
She bit her lip, knowing he was thinking of his wife.
He went on. “Pigpen’s lived a long, happy life and he’s got another year or two to go. He’ll enjoy the boys and Honey, and they’ll enjoy him. I’ll make sure that when the time comes, he goes easily. Painlessly.”
“I guess.” Though she hated to think of a child’s grief, she kind of saw Luke’s point. Loss was a part of life. Maybe it was better to come to terms with that early on. And of course his kids had already suffered one of the hugest losses possible. They’d grown up without a mother, and never even had a chance to know her and experience her love.
Was that better or worse than growing up with a mom who sold her body to feed her cocaine addiction?
Choosing to change the subject, she said, “Where are your kids? For a couple of four-year-old boys, they’re being awfully quiet.”
“They’re in the yard, playing in the fort.”
“Fort?”
“I’m not great with a hammer and nails, but I managed to throw something together. We can make it fancier as they get older and are able to help out.”
Yeah, he was a good parent. She loved the expression on his face when he talked about his sons. There’d been moments when her mom had been functional enough to look at Miranda and Aaron with interest and affection, but those moments had been rare and never lasted.
She shoved away the memories, and commented, “You didn’t shave this morning. Is that a Sunday thing?” A light scruff of brown whiskers covered his jaw and her fingers itched to reach out and feel that intriguing mix of softness and bristle. With a start, she realized that it must’ve been ten or eleven months since she’d stroked a man’s face.
“Yup.” His lips curved. “If I’d shaved, it might’ve given the wrong message. Like I thought this was a date or something.”
She laughed, thinking that she felt comfortable with this man. No, it wasn’t a date. When she dated, she always felt slightly on edge, like with an adrenaline buzz: lust, anticipation, uncertainty, excitement. Something way more thrilling than the desire to feel beard stubble under her fingertips.
“Hey, Ariana,” Luke said, raising his voice. “How about you and your mom come into the kitchen. I’ll call my boys. Then we’ll see if we can find some ice cream in the freezer.”
Ariana looked up from her doggy friend. “Ice cream? I like ice cream.”
Miranda reached for her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Come on, sweetie.” She hooked her purse over her shoulder.
Luke hefted the tote and gestured toward the baking dish. “What’s this?”
“Apple crisp to put in your fridge.” She didn’t believe in accepting hospitality without reciprocating.
“Thanks. What a treat.” He lifted the dish and started down the wide hallway.
Still holding her daughter’s hand, Miranda followed, glancing into the rooms they passed. The architectural design was as spectacular as the outside of the house, but the furniture was comfortable, some of it a little beat-up, and scattered toys and books created a homey ambience. She’d been dead wrong about the type of home Luke lived in, but right about the coziness and clutter.
She also noted a few photographs of Candace, Candace and Luke, Candace with other people. Luke’s wife had always been gorgeous and distinctive with that fiery hair, slightly exotic features, and light gray eyes accentuated by skillfully applied makeup. Clearly, Luke wasn’t avoiding memories of his wife, which made Miranda guess that this probably was the home they’d lived in together.
When she stepped through the door into the kitchen, she gasped. It was huge, efficiently laid out, and her experience working in restaurants told her that the appliances were commercial grade. But, lest she be completely intimidated, there were homey touches here, too: kids’ brightly colored artwork stuck on the walls, photos and lists tacked to the fridge, and a messy stack of papers and envelopes taking up part of the counter. Large windows on two sides provided lots of natural light, and she glimpsed a view of ocean and sky. The table was right by the window, with five chairs around it. One had a booster cushion.
Luke opened the outside door, hollered, “Boys! Ice cream!” and then came back in, leaving the door open a crack. A few moments later, what sounded like a herd of elephants thundered across a wooden porch or deck, the door crashed open, and two children in jeans and fleece jackets raced inside.
“Close the door,” Luke ordered. “Gently.”
“Boys,” Ariana announced, not seeming daunted. She’d spent a fair amount of time with other children, back in Vancouver with their neighbor Mrs. Sharma’s grandchildren, and in the playpen at Blowing Bubbles.
Though Brandon and Caleb were physically identical, cute kids with reddish hair and a light dusting of freckles, one boy’s hair was cropped short and the other’s was longer. Both wore jeans, but one had a brown jacket and the other a blue one. She remembered Luke saying that the kids liked to express their individuality.
When he made the introductions, she learned that the short-haired boy in the blue jacket was Brandon. She said hi to them, and Ariana babbled a greeting. Brandon looked up at Miranda, a challenge in his pale gray eyes. “You went to school with Daddy?”
“Yes, for a little while.”
“Mommy went to school with Daddy.”
“I know. They were high school sweethearts.”
Caleb lined up beside his brother. His eyes looked more soulful and his voice was quieter when he asked, “Why are you here?”
Luke saved her from fumbling for an answer by saying, “I told you earlier. They’re here for ice cream sundaes. Now, who wants ice cream?”
“I do!” Brandon cried, happily distracted, but Caleb gave Miranda another long, questioning gaze before saying in a more subdued tone, “Me too.”
“Ice cream!” Ariana put in.
Miranda raised a hand. “Count me in.” This wasn’t a date and she wasn’t going to try to ingratiate herself with the boys. Better to let the relationship evolve naturally.
She assisted Luke, and it took only a few minutes to get all the supplies onto the kitchen table. They all sat down, Luke at one end of the table, Miranda on his right with Ariana beside her, and the boys across from her. She was facing the window, and through it saw a large wooden deck bordered with glass-paneled fencing. It had started to rain, but through the sprinkles she saw the steely gray ocean.
Luke banished the dogs to a shared basket in a corner of the kitchen and she was impressed that, despite accusing gazes, the animals stayed there. “Your dogs are well behaved.”
“They’re trained in the basic commands,” he said. “It’s for their safety.”
The boys built their own sundaes, with judicious intervention from their dad to make sure they didn’t upend the bottle of chocolate sauce or spray whipped cream at each other. Miranda made her daughter a small sundae of chocolate ice cream, chocolate sauce, a sprinkle of walnuts, and a fizz of whipped cream, and made herself an adult version. Luke was the only one to forgo chocolate ice cream and dig into the other carton on the table.
“Black cherry?” she asked.
“Goes great with chocolate sauce. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“Sorry. I’m a purist. Nothing beats classic chocolate.” She spooned into the decadent treat, loving the rich smell of chocolate and eating small mouthfuls so she could fully savor the taste and make the sundae last. But she was careful not to moan, lick the spoon, or do anything else that Luke might find suggestive.
The kids were engrossed in their own dessert, and she knew there’d be face- and hand-washing to come, but for now she relaxed and enjoyed the moment. “This is an amazing house you’ve got,” she told Luke.
“Isn’t it?” He got the pensive, slightly melancholy expression that suggested he was thinking of Candace, and his words confirmed it. “Best wedding gift ever.”
“Wedding gift?” Her voice squeaked in astonishment. “Someone gave you a house?”
“Candace’s parents. And yeah, they’re rich. Seriously rich. Her mom, Annie Byrne, is a computer genius. In the early eighties she invented one of the first, most popular video games. Clue-Tracer?”
“Wow. That’s still around, right? Isn’t it a crime-solving game for wannabe detectives?” She’d never been into video games herself, preferring to read.
“Yeah, and she still owns it. She updates it with all the latest CSI-type stuff. But anyhow, when she invented it, it was a top seller, up there with Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, and Super Mario Bros. She made millions in the first two or three years. Billions by now. She’s invented other games, too. Not, obviously, because she and Randall need the money but because she loves it.”
“I never knew that, back in high school.” Glancing at the kids, who seemed oblivious to the adult conversation, she lowered her voice. “Though I do remember Candace having some expensive-looking clothes and jewelry.”
He spoke more quietly, too. “Yes, she loved clothes and all the girly stuff, but neither she nor her parents let wealth make them all high and mighty.”
“Her parents are Destiny Islanders?”
“Her dad, Randall Yuen, is a native. He met her mom in Vancouver when she was getting her computer science degree and he was studying photography. He brought her home to meet his parents and kid sister, and she fell in love with the place. After the two of them married, they moved here. He supported her while she got Clue-Tracer going, then when the money started rolling in, they bought property, built a house, he set up a photography studio, and she kept designing games.”
He stirred the remains of his sundae into a soupy pink-and-brown mess. “They were nice to me when I was a kid, and they approved of me and Candace as a couple. They liked that I was following my passion and becoming a vet, even though I’ll never make a lot of money at it. Candace was into cooking. She took courses, worked at restaurants, and then set up a catering business. That’s the reason the kitchen here is so amazing.”
“I still can’t believe they bought you a house. This house. On the harbor.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty incredible. They live half a mile away, wanted us close. Wanted our kids to be able to play on the beach.” He glanced at the boys, who were squirting more whipped cream into their bowls. In a husky murmur, he said, “We figured there’d be more than two kids, and Candace would be here to play with them.”
She nodded sympathetically, thinking about what he’d said. Her brother had a house on the ocean, too. Lionel had subdivided his property and sold Aaron a section of it. Even though the price was reasonable, Aaron would be paying off the mortgage for the foreseeable future. Of course, now there’d be Eden’s income as well, which would really help out.
When Aaron had built his cottage, he’d told Miranda there was a room for her and Ariana. Pride and her dislike of Destiny Island had made her refuse that offer. It wasn’t fair that she’d always been the one to lean on him, especially once she’d grown up. But then last summer she’d faced the cold, hard truth. Unable to put a roof over her child’s head, she’d known she needed a better answer than accepting another loan from her brother. And so she had swallowed her pride and accepted that standing offer, so she could build a better future for her daughter.
Carefully she asked, “You were okay with Candace’s parents giving you a house?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why not? Don’t tell me you believe in that archaic stuff about how the man’s supposed to be the sole provider?”
“No way.” And that was the truth. “I just . . . Look, don’t be offended, okay? This isn’t meant as a criticism. But I’ve always figured, we each need to look out for ourselves.”
He cocked his head, reflecting. “I think we need to be able to do that, as much as we can. But when you marry, you’re a team. Like with Candace’s parents. No one cares that her mom makes way more than her dad. They’re both doing work they love. Same with Candace and me. If she happened to be rich and I wasn’t, why should we turn down a terrific house?”
Because of pride. Something Miranda had always figured was a strength. “No good reason, I guess,” she said, not wanting to insult or argue with the man who’d supplied the delicious sundae ingredients.
Over on the kitchen counter, his phone rang. As he jumped up and hurried over, Brandon looked up from his bowl and said, “Dad-dy,” in a drawn-out, accusatory way.
Luke checked the display, and answered with a lazy “Hey.” He listened a moment, then said, “Sounds good. See you later.” Returning, he said to Brandon, “Relax, it was Grandma Sonia.” He explained to Miranda, “My mom. Not an animal emergency.”
“Oh.” Now she understood Brandon’s whine. “I guess you get those.”
“He does,” Brandon said emphatically.
“He’s the only vet on the island,” Caleb said. “The animals need him.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Luke reached over to ruffle his son’s longish hair.
Seeing their faces side by side, she realized that the boys mostly had their dad’s features, though their eyes were the same striking clear gray as Candace’s rather than the intriguing color mix of Luke’s. They would grow up handsome. She’d bet on that.
Luke was going on. “I have regular clinic hours. And times that I schedule visits, mostly for the large animal work but also for folks who have transportation issues. But animal injuries and illnesses don’t pay heed to schedules. My clients have my cell number.”
“What do you guys do when you get an emergency call?” she asked the boys.
“Sometimes we go with Daddy,” Brandon said.
“Yes, sometimes,” Luke said, smiling at his son. The man really did have an appealing smile. “In a pinch. But mostly we use a sitter.”
“I like Gary,” Brandon said. “Tiffie has too many rules.”
“I like Mrs. Kent,” Caleb contributed.
“Gary and Tiffie are neighborhood teens,” Luke told Miranda. “Responsible ones. Mrs. Kent’s kids and grandkids live off-island and she loves having children to dote on.”
“She makes good cookies,” Brandon said. “So do Grandma Sonia and Granddad Randall.”
“Mommy made good cookies,” Caleb said quietly. “I know she did. She was a really good cook.” He tipped his head toward Miranda. “Are you a good cook?” It came out more as a subtle, solemn challenge than a genuine question.
No way would she try to compete with the mother he’d never met. “I’m an okay cook. Not a really good one.” It was an honest answer. She chose not to mention the apple crisp.
Luke gave her an apologetic glance and stepped in. “Both sets of grandparents help out with the boys, too. They’re happy for any chance to be with them. And like I said, Candace’s parents live half a mile away. Mom and Forbes aren’t far away either.”
Miranda took a paper napkin and started to clean the worst of the chocolate off Ariana’s face. “That’s quite the support network.”
He shrugged. “You know that old saying, it takes a village to raise a child.”
“Uh, no, I don’t think I’ve heard it.”
“Boys,” he said, “you go down the hall and wash up, okay?” After they’d run off, he asked her, “How about you? I guess your village starts with your brother?”
Thinking about Aaron made her smile. “Did you know we’re only half sibs? We have different fathers.”
“No, I didn’t know. But I can see it, him being so much darker than you.”
She nodded. Aaron’s dad had been an indigenous man. “It’s one of those things that on the one hand doesn’t matter in the least but on the other hand is kind of strange. D’you know what I mean?”
“Haven’t a clue,” he said cheerfully. “Go on.”
“If we’d had the same dad—if a guy had stuck with Mom long enough to have two kids—our lives might’ve been different. But that didn’t happen. Mom was, well, already on a bad path by the time she had Aaron. She actually knew who his dad was, even though—”