Chapter Ten
Aaron had fueled the four-seater Cessna 180 and checked the floats and water rudders. Now, standing on the dock Tuesday afternoon, he checked his watch again. It wasn’t yet one-thirty, the time he’d asked Eden to meet him, but he was impatient to see her. During his morning flights, his mind had kept turning to her. Yesterday had been one fine day. His only regret was that she hadn’t slept over. They had only a few days together and he wanted to make the most of them.
When he looked up, she was standing at the top of the ramp, pretty in navy cotton capris and a short-sleeved blue blouse. Though she was mostly covered up, he remembered what she’d looked like naked on the beach, flushed from lovemaking.
She waved and he waved back, gesturing her to come down to the dock. Battling an erection, he went to meet her. “Hey you,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and dropping a kiss on her lips.
She returned the kiss. “Hey back.” Her hair, pulled into a low ponytail, framed her face, and a hint of tan colored her skin.
He opened the Cessna’s door. “Hop in.”
“We’re flying? I didn’t realize that.”
“We’re going to see Gwendy, the former commune member. She lives on her own island along with—”
“Island?” she broke in. “Didn’t you say she lives at a place called Severn’s Reach?”
“Which is an island.”
“I didn’t realize.” She eyed the plane doubtfully. “Is it far?”
“A hop, a skip, and a jump in the Cessna.”
“That’s a really small plane.”
“And a really safe one. Jillian and I fly it two or three times a day.”
“Oh. Well . . .” She gave a soft laugh. “Sorry, it’s not that I don’t trust your pilot skills. I guess if I can go kayaking, I can fly in a miniature plane.” Glancing toward the Blue Moon Air office, she said, “Should I go up and pay for the flight now or wait until we get back?”
“You’re not paying.” He helped her into the plane. “The Cessna wasn’t booked. It was just going to sit here doing nothing.”
“But the fuel,” she protested as she belted herself in. “And there must be maintenance costs and whatever else is included in the cost of a flight.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She frowned but kept quiet.
Five minutes later, they were up in the air. “How was your morning?” he asked.
“Frustrating, except for a nice chat with Iris Yakimura at Dreamspinner. I met with Bart Jelinek, but he didn’t know anything. I phoned Cynnie Smithson, who refused to meet with me. She said her stint at the commune was a misguided little adventure and she remembered nothing about it. It was like she wanted to brush it all under the carpet and pretend it never happened.”
He pictured the woman, with her neatly styled and dyed hair and boring clothes. “Yeah, Cynnie and her husband aren’t exactly free spirits. He’s a retired accountant and she was a stay-at-home mom.”
“And a grandmother now, she told me proudly.”
“Guess she doesn’t tell her kids and grandkids about her days of long hair, tie-dye, and joint smoking.”
She laughed. “Guess not.” Then she went on. “I also talked to the friend of Rachelle’s father, the man who took a few of the commune boys out fishing occasionally. They told him they wanted to learn and to catch food for the commune, and that they’d haul nets and so on for him in exchange. He said most of them were useless, but there were a couple of decent ones. He’s actually still friends with one of them, Seal SkySong. He doesn’t remember anyone named Barry. And he said that whenever he asked questions about the commune, the boys would giggle and say they were sworn to secrecy. He thought it was all pretty adolescent.”
“I’m sorry you haven’t had more luck with your hunt for your aunt.”
“Me too.” She sighed. “I spoke to my mom this morning. At first she sounded good, but when I told her there was no news, she got discouraged. She’s always been able to count on me. I hate that I’m letting her down.”
He reached over to briefly touch her arm. “Eden, you’re doing everything you can. Don’t beat yourself up.”
She gave him a flicker of a smile. “Thanks.” The smile widened. “Hey, I told my sister about us. She said you’re good for me. I think she’s right.”
“That’s nice to hear.” It gave him a warm feeling that went all the way through him.
For a few minutes, they were both quiet, and then Eden said, “I see the shadow of the plane slipping across the ocean.” She glanced his way. “It seems as if it should be totally silent up here and yet the engine’s so noisy.”
“I know.” He’d gotten used to engine noise, so attuned to it that he barely noticed unless there was a strange sound that might signal a problem.
“You said this plane used to be Lionel’s? How old is it?”
“Built in 1970.”
Her hands gripped her seat belt. “That’s really old.”
“Planes have a long life if they’re well maintained. This baby has always been cared for. Give her a try.” The plane had dual steering yokes, and he gestured to the one in front of Eden.
She raised her hands in a gesture of protest. “I can’t fly a plane.”
“Just rest your hands there, see what it feels like.”
Gingerly, she obeyed. “It doesn’t feel so different from a car steering wheel. Okay, what do I do?”
He took his hands off his own yoke. “Gently pull straight back and we’ll gain altitude. Shove down a little and that’s where we’ll go. And like with a car, the plane will go left or right if you turn the yoke that way. Keep all your motions slow and easy.”
With excruciating slowness, she experimented. “Wow. But there’s more to it than this.”
“One or two things. See this dial?” He pointed to the instrument panel. “That’s the altimeter. We’re eight hundred feet above sea level. See how the needle responds when you pull up or push down on the yoke?”
Trying it out, she nodded.
“This is the compass, which comes in handy when you’re flying over open ocean with no landmarks below to guide you.”
She watched the instrument panel as she moved the yoke this way and that.
“There are other things a pilot pays attention to,” he said. “I won’t overwhelm you with all of them. There’s just one more thing you need to think about right now.”
“What’s that?”
“Other air traffic.”
“Oh my gosh!” She jerked her gaze to the windows. “I’d completely forgotten that there could be other planes out there.”
“And birds. A flock of gulls . . . well, let’s just say that’s best avoided. We fly VFR, Visual Flight Rules. That means you need sufficient visibility—you can’t fly in heavy fog, for example—and you rely on your eyes rather than on instruments.”
She gripped the yoke tighter, peering out the windshield. “I was right. Flying is scary.”
“So’s driving a car. It’s a matter of learning how to do it and putting in many, many hours of practice until it becomes almost instinctive.”
“I suppose.”
“Drop altitude slowly,” he said. “Just keep taking her down.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s Severn’s Reach down below.”
She jerked her hands off the yoke. “No way am I landing this.”
Laughing, he put his hands on his own steering yoke. “No, you’re not. Sit back and relax.” Then he said casually, “There’s something I didn’t mention about Gwendy. She lives with her partners, Sandra and Peter.”
Eden glanced at him, blinked, and said, “But Sandra and Peter weren’t at the commune?”
“No. They all got together later.” He waited a moment, and when she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “It doesn’t bother you? Them being a threesome?”
She shrugged. “Why should it? Do you think I’m naïve or prejudiced or something?” She stiffened. “Does their relationship bother you?”
“God no. That’s the joy of Destiny. You can be yourself.”
“I wish the whole world was like that. If people aren’t hurting anyone, why should it matter how they live their lives? If Gwendy, Sandra, and Peter have found love together, then they’re lucky.”
Luckier than he’d ever be, he figured.
* * *
Aaron barely watched the sunset, though it was a spectacular one viewed from the rustic deck at the Sunset Cove pub. Every shade of red, orange, and gold lit the sky, cast reflections in the still ocean, and painted ever-changing patterns over the half-dozen boats at the small dock below. But his attention was on Eden’s face. It was there he tracked the progress of the setting sun, from subtle to fiery and then fading to mellow. The colors stroked her face, but even better was the fascination in her eyes and the soft curve of her lips.
She was too caught up in the experience to speak, though she occasionally reached out and absentmindedly had a sip of wine or snagged one of the tempura zucchini and yam rounds from the appetizer plate in the center of the table. When their waitress brought a thick candle in a wind-resistant holder, Eden didn’t notice. Aaron wondered if she was ever like this in Ottawa, totally in the moment and at peace.
For the twenty minutes, it took for the sun to drop into the ocean, he sipped his craft beer from Blue Moonshine, munched on tempura, and reveled in her enjoyment.
Finally, she turned to him with a sigh and glazed eyes. “That was incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her eyes widened and she groaned. “Why didn’t I take a picture? Why didn’t I think to pull out my phone?”
“Because you were living in the moment.”
“That’s not like me,” she said, sounding puzzled and a little displeased.
He fought back a grin. Wait for it . . . Yeah, there’s that scrunchy forehead.
She frowned at her empty wineglass. “I finished my wine and didn’t even notice.” Her forehead scrunched tighter as she gazed across at him. “Aaron, I’m organized. I don’t live in the moment, I plan for the future. I’m a lawyer, right? It’s all about analyzing the goal, the tasks required to complete it, and the time frame and resources that are available. Like, even with this glass of wine, I’d normally have made it last through dinner. And we haven’t even ordered yet.”
She sounded so puzzled and grumpy that he had to laugh. “There’s more wine where that came from.”
“But then I’ll end up drinking too much.”
“I’m driving, so don’t worry about it.”
Seeing she was about to argue the point, he quickly said, “And you’ll have more photo ops tonight. Sometimes the sky’s even prettier after the sun has sunk below the horizon.”
She took her phone from her bag and put it on the table. “Don’t let me forget this time.”
“You could always set the alarm for ten minutes,” he teased.
When she reached for it again, he groaned. “I was joking.”
“It’s a good idea.” She fiddled with the phone and then put it down again.
She wore her hair loose tonight and her earrings sparkled in the candlelight, making him think of sunlight or starlight bouncing off waves. “Those earrings suit you.” Until today, she’d worn little gold thingies that were barely noticeable. Her new ones, made by Tamsyn, a jeweler who’d once belonged to the Enchantery, were abstract silver ones with sparkly stones that looked like diamonds but couldn’t be since the earrings had cost only thirty-five dollars.
After the pleasant but unproductive visit to Severn’s Reach, he and Eden had driven to Tamsyn’s place, talking to her in the studio that adjoined her house. As with most of the local artists, the studio also served as a storefront showcasing her work. The jeweler had been closemouthed about her commune days but happy to talk about her craft. She portrayed natural subjects and tried to capture their essence. Aaron and Eden had both admired her work.
Eden gave her head a flick, making the earrings dance. “They’re not my usual style, but they spoke to me. I hope Mom and Kelsey like the ones I bought for them.”
For her mother, she’d chosen hummingbirds with red-jeweled heads, saying her mom had two hummingbird feeders hanging outside the kitchen window. Her sister was getting feather-and-bead earrings, Eden commenting wryly that Kelsey was like a bird that never settled in one place for long.
Eden spoke often of her family. She was straightforward, which he respected, and it made it easy to get to know her. It was clear she was passionate about not only her family but her job. She had strong values and beliefs, set her goals based on them, then used her considerable energy and organizational ability to pursue those goals. He’d learned she was a bit of a control freak and liked to do things her way, though she could be flexible when necessary.
In that way—both the taking-charge part and the flexibility—they were similar. Other than that, they were pretty much opposites.
He had learned early on not to share information about his personal life, much less his feelings. Now he never talked about his shitty past or his troubled sister. That stuff was no one’s business but his.
Eden organized her life in terms of achieving goals. He’d only had three goals as an adult. Two, he’d already achieved: to live on Destiny and fly in this scenic area. The third—to ensure his sister and niece’s safety and security—wasn’t within his control. Other than that, he was a laid-back guy, content to enjoy his small corner of the world with the wonders of nature and the entertaining eccentricities of neighbors who accepted him just as he was.
Eden had been toying with an earring, looking reflective. “I’ll be taking home souvenirs from this trip, and memories. But Aaron, I’m halfway through my time here, and so far, I don’t have a single lead that will help me find Lucy.”
He’d hoped she wouldn’t think about that tonight. He wanted Eden to be happy. For some reason that mattered more to him each day. He knew all the sunset dinners and kayaking-with-seals adventures in the world couldn’t give her the same happiness as being able to tell her mom she’d located her long-lost sister, and that Lucy was well and happy.
Aaron was doing all he could, yet he felt frustrated and inadequate because he hadn’t been able to produce the results Eden wanted. Trying to encourage both of them, he put his hand over hers where it rested next to her empty glass. “There are still several names on the list. Don’t give up hope. I don’t think that’s like you, right? I see you as a power-of-positive-thinking person.”
She turned her hand over and wrapped her fingers around his. “True. Okay, I’ll remain positive. And right now, I have a goal I’m very positive about. I’m hungry. Let’s order dinner.”
Their waitress was going around the deck lighting outdoor heaters because the air had cooled off with the sun’s setting. Aaron beckoned her over just as the cell phone alarm went off. Eden clicked photos of the mellow afterglow of the sunset, all pinks, golds, and purples this evening. Aaron gave the waitress their order: a lamb burger for him, a blackened tuna salad for Eden, a Coke for him, and another glass of wine for her.
When the colors in the sky faded, Eden put her phone away. “That was beautiful.” She touched one of the bright flowers in the small vase on the table. “So are these. Everything here seems so natural.”
“How d’you mean?”
“The flowers came from a garden, not a florist. The fish came out of that very ocean.”
“And the lamb—”
“No!” She held up a hand, stopping him. “I refuse to think that the lamb came from one of those cute, fluffy little creatures we saw in the fields we drove past. I’m going to believe it originated in a grocery store, covered in plastic wrap.”
He grinned at her. “Whatever makes you happy.” It didn’t make sense to him that she’d happily eat fish from the ocean yet be squeamish about grass-fed lamb. But women could be weird that way.
The waiter delivered the second round of drinks and Eden took a small sip of her pinot gris. “Even if the old commune members haven’t been able to help me in my search, it’s been interesting talking to them.”
“I’m glad you don’t feel like it’s been a waste of time.”
She cocked her head. “Well, in terms of achieving my goal, it has. But you know, talking to these people makes me think of Mom. Of how she used to be, anyhow. Before the cancer.”
“How so?”
“She’s all about personal growth. As a teacher, it fascinates her how people change from their teen years to adulthood. She tries to help her students figure out whether their dreams are pure fantasy or may be achievable, and to develop concrete ways of achieving their goals, which may be through education, travel, apprenticeships, or whatever.”
He nodded, thinking of how Lionel and flying had changed a sullen, rebellious teen into a responsible adult.
“What I’ve been seeing here is a special group of people,” Eden mused. “Who at a unique time in history had their own individual reasons for joining the Enchantery. They were hippie kids and now they’re in their sixties and seventies. The bulk of their lives is behind them, and it’s fascinating to see what they’ve done with those lives. And how the commune influenced them.”
He’d never thought about it in such an analytical way. Intrigued, he said, “Go on.”
“Admittedly, it’s a small sample, and they’re all people who chose to live on Destiny, but it seems to me they’ve found happy lives. Less conventional lives—well, except for Cynnie—than many people their age. Their lives suit them, whether they live a marginal existence like Azalea or they’re fairly well off like Marlise and Cynnie. They’re being true to themselves: raising chickens and marijuana, being a social worker, making jewelry, enjoying grandkids, and so on. Married, single, partnered, or friends with benefits—as it suits them, not because of what society tells them to do.”
“Maybe what the commune—and the times—taught them was to think for themselves.”
“That’s not what Merlin wanted. He wanted them to obey him. And I’m sure a number of them did, at least for a time. But somehow, sometime, they did learn to think for themselves.” She smiled across the table at him. “My mom would approve.”
What a concept: a mom’s approval. Not something he or Miranda had ever known. He swallowed the last mouthful of beer, wishing his second drink was another beer rather than a Coke.
“Aaron, are you okay?”
“Sure. Why?”
“You just looked . . . sad or something for a moment.”
He’d be a hell of a lot sadder if he told her the story of his childhood and teens—and she’d get depressed, maybe feel sorry for him. He forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m sad that dinner hasn’t arrived. My stomach’s growling. I hope they didn’t have to go catch my lamb.”
“Stop it!” She raised her hands to her ears, laughing. “I don’t hear a word you’re saying.”
With relief, Aaron saw their waitress approaching with their meals. “Ah, in answer to my prayers.” In more ways than Eden knew.
As they started to eat, he asked her to tell him about a few of the programs her Foundation had funded. Not only did that shift attention from him but he enjoyed hearing about her work and the pride she took in it. When she turned the focus back on him, he managed, as usual, to stick to topics like his favorite places to fly and stories about the island’s colorful history and quirky residents.
When they’d finished eating, Aaron reached across the table for her hand. She looked so lovely, her face lit by the candle on the table and the silvery moon. Her amber eyes sparkled, as did her earrings. “Dessert here or at my place?” He hoped she was ready for some private time.
Her lips curved knowingly. “What’s on the menu for dessert at your place?”
“Because you watch calories”—he winked—“we could go with something tasty and fat-free.”
“Do tell.” She leaned forward, her elbow on the table and her chin cupped in her hand.
“Your lips would be a good start, followed by perhaps a nibble of an earlobe. Then I’d like to spend some time savoring your breasts and—”
“Shh,” she said quickly. A smile bloomed and she said, so quietly he could barely hear it, “That’s your dessert. What do I get?”
He gave her his best wicked grin. “Anything your little heart desires.”
A strange expression crossed her face, or maybe it was just a flicker of candlelight, because it was gone in a second. “How can I turn down an offer like that?”