Chapter Twenty-One
Saturday morning, Aaron woke to a familiar haunting sound and let out a groan before remembering he wasn’t alone in bed. When he did remember, he grinned. Some days, fog could be an excellent thing.
Eden, curled on her side with her arm over his chest, stirred and said sleepily, “Aaron?”
He slipped his arm under and around her, pulling her into his embrace. “Hear that?”
“Mmm. That’s eerie. What is it?”
“A foghorn. Which means . . .”
“Ah.” She yawned. “If it’s too foggy, you can’t fly.”
“Until it clears, which may be too late for passengers who had plans for the day.” He squeezed her shoulders, planted a kiss on her forehead, and then shoved himself out of bed. “I have to call Kam and Jillian, check the weather and our flight schedule, and figure out a plan. Go back to sleep, Eden.”
“What time is it?” Her voice was still drowsy.
“Five.”
“Back to sleep. Going.” She rolled over and pulled the covers high on her neck.
“The plus side of fog,” he said to her back, “is that if I can’t fly for a few hours, we can spend that time together.”
“In bed,” she muttered.
“You bet.” She was so cute when she was half-asleep, that high-speed brain slowed down for once.
Once out of bed, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee and took his computer into the kitchen so he wouldn’t disturb her. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and opened his email program to find a message from Kam, copied to Jillian. A couple of minutes later, Jillian was online, too, all of them wakened by the foghorn. Following their standard procedure, they checked the available weather information from the Vancouver and Victoria terminals and towers as well as the Nanaimo flight service station, and they compared notes with other Gulf Island airlines and seaplane docks.
Everyone agreed that the southern Gulf Islands were likely to be socked in until late morning. Kam would notify their passengers by text and email, so as not to wake those who were still asleep. If he didn’t hear back from people within a reasonable time, he’d make phone calls. Some passengers would cancel their flights, others would rebook for another day, and some would still hope to get out today if the weather cleared. Depending on when that clearing occurred, it might or might not be possible to accommodate everyone because the afternoon flights were already almost full. One or more of the seaplane companies located farther north, where the weather was clear enough to fly this morning, might be able to pick up the afternoon overflow.
Grateful for Kam’s efficiency and eagerness, and vowing to give him an extra flight training session this week, Aaron finished his orange juice and went back to the bedroom. Eden lay on her side, her back to the door, exactly as he’d left her. She’d looked so wrung out yesterday, her summer tan not concealing the shadows around her eyes. He loved her so much and was happy about the decisions they’d made last night, but he felt helpless. He wanted to make life easy for her, but, unfortunately, he couldn’t solve her problems.
He took off his clothes and, slowly and silently so as not to wake her, slipped into bed. His cell phone, set to vibrate, went on the pillow beside his head. If the forecast changed and flights could get out this morning, Kam would call. For anything nonurgent, he’d text or email.
When Aaron’s body brushed Eden’s, she stirred, made a small sound, and snuggled into the curve of his body. A soft sigh escaped her lips, but she didn’t wake. Aaron, used to being up before dawn, was wide awake, but he lay motionless, enjoying every moment of being with her and glad she was getting some rest.
The foghorn sounded with reassuring regularity, confirming that the fog hadn’t lifted.
It was a couple of hours before Eden stirred again, coming awake slowly and then wriggling her butt against him. He responded by rubbing his rising erection against that curvy, warm ass, and they made love like that, him slipping between her legs as he spooned her. There were moans of pleasure and breathless sighs, but neither of them spoke until their bodies had merged in climax.
Still inside her, Aaron kissed her shoulder. “Good morning, my love.”
“You’re still here. I like fog.”
“It has its advantages.” Reluctantly, he separated himself from her and got up to dispose of the condom. Returning from the bathroom, he pulled back the curtains. Climbing in beside Eden again, he shoved pillows behind his back so he could sit up and look out. The fog wasn’t a thick blanket but crept in smoky fingers through the trees. “Actually, I do like the fog. Even if it wreaks havoc with the flight schedule.”
“Aside from getting to stay in bed,” she said, shoving herself up to sit beside him, “why do you like it?”
He put his arm around her shoulders, gathering her closer. “There was this poem we had to learn in school, something about the fog creeping on little cat feet.”
“I remember that, too. Carl Sandburg, I think. I loved the image of little cat feet. A small, furry gray cat, I always thought.”
“When I lived in the city, I didn’t pay much attention to the occasional fog. But out here in the forest, I remembered that poem. The cat feet, that’s not how I think of the fog myself. It’s like”—he broke off—“this is going to sound silly.”
She wrapped her arm across his chest, gazing past him out the window. “Tell me.”
“You know I’m not a religious guy, or even spiritual, really. Yet fog makes me think of the spirits of all the creatures, the birds and animals, even maybe the trees and flowers that have died out there.” He felt kind of stupid saying this, and yet he wanted to share his thoughts with the woman he loved. “Some mornings, those spirits feel kind of... not sad, exactly, more like nostalgic. They’re in a quiet, soft gray mood and they come back to visit their favorite places. They reach out with their breath, with their fingers, to caress everything they once loved.”
She turned her gaze from the window to rest on his face. “Aaron, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh. Well . . .”
“You have the soul of a poet.”
He laughed in denial. “No way. I just feel closer to nature than I do to a lot of people.”
She nodded. “My eagle.”
“Yeah sure.” Though in his secret heart he was flattered that she saw him that way.
“It’s getting late, darling. Aunt Di and Uncle Seal invited me for breakfast at SkySong. What are your plans? Could you come, too?”
He found his phone, where it had tumbled to the floor during their lovemaking. Checking email, he said, “Kam says the earliest it’s likely to clear is eleven. Sure, I’d like to come with you.”
They showered and dressed and decided to take separate cars. That way, when he later went to Blue Moon Air, Eden could do whatever she wanted.
The parking lot held ten or so cars. Wisps of fog drifted here and there, offering glimpses of the guest cottages and main building, the native trees that had been left on the property and the flowering ones Di and Seal had planted: lilacs, magnolias, camellias, and rhododendrons. Walking silently on the bark-chip path that led to their house, Aaron and Eden passed the deer-fenced organic vegetable and fruit garden. Three gardeners raised hands in greeting and a few quiet good mornings were exchanged. Di and Seal had a plan for the garden, but they left most of the execution to their guests. Many city dwellers found it rewarding, even therapeutic, to tend and harvest produce.
In the butterfly and hummingbird garden, laden with flowering plants designed to attract those winged creatures, only a couple of hardy hummingbirds sipped from honeysuckle blossoms. On a bench, a figure in a gray hoodie and sweatpants sat in lotus position, blending in with the fog, looking almost like a statue.
Di and Seal’s house was the original farm-style two-story that had sat on the property for over a century, though they’d done some renovating, including making it as green-powered as possible. The wooden building was on a slight rise, giving them a view over the entire retreat and down to the beach where Aaron and Eden had picnicked and made love for the first time.
After mounting the steps, he paused to enjoy the view. “It’s amazing what two former hippies have achieved, isn’t it?” The whimsical fog drifted this way and that, revealing a dozen people on the lawn by the ocean, performing the graceful movements of tai chi.
“If Aunt Di’s anything like Nana, Mom, and me, I’m not at all surprised. I think there’s an organizational gene in our family. Though it may have skipped Kelsey.”
“Or maybe she’s like Di and needs to find the thing she wants to do. When she does, she may turn out to be like the rest of you Blaine women.”
“Maybe so.”
Rather than a conventional doorbell or knocker, an artistically corroded copper bell hung by the front door. Aaron rang it, and a moment later Seal’s voice called, “It’s open.”
The inside of the house, like the outside, wore its age gracefully. The décor was an intriguing mix: bamboo furniture as well as oak; rugs from India and New Mexico; diverse artwork; sculptures made from driftwood and jade. Aaron knew that each piece had a story, though he’d heard only a couple of them.
He and Eden went through to the large kitchen with its white-painted brick walls, white cabinets, brightly colored chairs, and more artwork. Seal, his lanky body clad in faded jeans and a tie-dyed tee, was at the stove. Di, in snug black pants and a colorful woven top that Aaron guessed was Guatemalan, was chopping cilantro.
Everyone exchanged hugs and the usual comments about the weather. In the Pacific Northwest, the changeable weather was always a primary topic of conversation.
The four of them sat down to a breakfast of huevos rancheros, freshly squeezed orange juice, and strong coffee. “A perfect meal for a day like this,” Aaron said, enjoying the bite of chili peppers on his tongue.
“That’s what we thought,” Di said.
As they ate, it seemed to him that Di guided the conversation, keeping it casual and upbeat and avoiding the subject of her sister’s cancer. Seeing Eden and her aunt sitting side by side, he could see the physical resemblance. Although the older woman’s long hair was streaked liberally with silver, the brown strands were the same walnut as her niece’s. Di’s eyes were bright blue like Kelsey’s while Eden’s were amber, yet the shape of their eyes and their jaws was similar. Helen Blaine, he remembered, shared that same firm jaw.
When everyone pronounced themselves full, Di cleared away the breakfast plates and Seal offered refills of juice and coffee. Then he and Di sat down again and exchanged glances. Seal pushed his wire-framed glasses up his nose and gave her a slight nod.
“Eden,” Di said, “it’s always good to see you and I’m so enjoying getting to know you. But there’s another reason I invited you here today. I want to talk about Helen. Her emotional health, especially.”
Eden sighed. “I know. She’s in a bad state of mind. She keeps saying that she may die. We all tell her it’s not going to happen, but she can’t seem to believe that.”
Di, seated to Eden’s right, turned and took her niece’s hand in both of hers. “But it’s true, my dear, lovely niece. Your mother might die.”
Eden’s eyes widened. “No. We can’t let ourselves think that.”
Her aunt gave her a gentle smile. “I know it’s hard, but it’s reality. We’re all going to die one day. An illness as serious as cancer brings that inevitability closer and we need to face it.”
Eden shook her head, a stubborn expression on her face. “No, we need to stay positive. So Mom will be positive and she’ll fight it.”
“That may be what you think you need,” Di said calmly, “but it’s not what Helen needs.”
“What do you mean?” Eden’s forehead scrunched up.
“I believe that you, your father, and your sister force yourselves to be optimistic because you can’t cope with the alternative, that Helen may die.”
Eden tugged her hand free of Di’s and clasped both her hands on the table, so tightly that he could see the tension. “Perhaps,” she said. “But why should any of us think about that possibility? How can it do any good?”
“Because it’s Helen’s reality and she needs you to acknowledge it, not brush off her totally genuine concern.” Di tucked a tendril of hair behind Eden’s ear. “Your mother and I have talked about this at length. When you silence her, it hurts her. She needs to be heard.”
Aaron’s heart ached at the pain reflected on Eden’s tense, shadowy-eyed face. He knew she’d never voluntarily hurt her mom. He glanced at Di, whose gaze was intent on Eden, and then at Seal. The other man, with his nut-brown face, glasses, and ponytailed gray hair, gave him a sympathetic smile. It was obvious the older couple had discussed this beforehand.
Aaron wanted to offer comfort to Eden, to defend her, and yet what Di said made sense to him. If, God forbid, he had some horrible illness, he’d want to be able to discuss it with Eden, not have her deny his reality. Trying to find a middle ground, he said, “Helen has you to talk to, Di. Isn’t that enough for her?”
Di turned her warm gaze on him. “She has me and her cancer support group. Believe me, they talk about death a lot. It’s a presence in the room. Members of that group have died. Helen’s wanted to be able to come home and tell her family about it, to share her grief and the fear that those deaths engender in her. But she knows no one wants to hear about it.”
She gathered Eden’s hands once again, lifted them to her face and pressed a kiss to them, and then returned the bundle of four hands to rest on the table. “Talking to me and the other cancer survivors helps your mom, but it’s not enough. She needs to be able to do it at home, not feel pressured to always put on a brave face and pretend she believes she’ll be okay. When she does that, she’s deceiving you, Eden. You, your dad, and Kelsey. Deceiving you to protect you. Can you imagine how much energy that takes, at a time when she has none to spare?”
“I guess I can,” Eden said quietly. “Because it feels like that for me, as well. Always working hard to put on a cheery face. I’ve seen how it’s affected Dad, too.”
“This is part of the reason Helen was so shattered by the news of the recurrence. Just when she was feeling better, feeling hopeful, she learned that she’d have to find all that energy again. Not just to endure treatment and fight the disease but to put that brave face back on. I bet you and Jim and Kelsey felt like that, too.”
Eden nodded. “It has to be all that much harder for Mom.”
“Exactly.” Di nodded firmly. “You want to give your mother what she most needs. That means learning to face the possibility of her death and to discuss it openly with her, as well as helping her to fight against it.”
Eden bit her lip.
“You all need to be honest,” Di went on. “With yourselves and one another. It won’t always be comfortable and I guarantee you’ll cry. But isn’t it better to cry together than to deceive one another?”
Eden blinked, her lashes damp. “Is it? Aunt Di, I’m lost here. I don’t know anything about this.”
“But I do. It’s part of what Seal and I do here at SkySong. We help people who are going through, or have suffered from, traumas of various sorts. It’s a healing place. We felt it the first time we set foot”—she glanced at Seal and grinned—“trespassed, in fact, on this land. It inspired us and helped us find our own lifework.”
Seal spoke for the first time since the aunt-niece conversation had begun. “It did.” He reached over to rest his hand atop the women’s joined ones. “We’ve helped a lot of people. And we want to help Helen.” He nodded his head at Di, a silent invitation.
She took it up. “We want Helen to come here, Eden. Helen and your dad. We want you to be here as often as you can, and Kelsey during every school break.”
“But . . .” Eden frowned, looking confused. “But everything’s in Ottawa. The oncologist and Mom’s other doctors, the hospital, the cancer support group. Dad’s job. Their house, Mom’s garden, her job when she can go back to it.”
“There are excellent oncologists and hospitals in both Victoria and Vancouver, just a hop away by ferry or”—she smiled at Aaron—“by our excellent local airline. There’s a wonderful cancer support group right here on Destiny. Seal and I help them from time to time with guided meditations and healing exercises.
“As for the house,” Di said, “your parents could rent it out for a while. I know Helen loves to garden and she could do it to her heart’s content here. She’s already on leave from her job. Your father’s job . . . well, maybe he could work something out.”
“Dad would do anything for Mom,” Eden said slowly.
Di glanced at Seal. “We both truly believe it would help Helen to be here. She’ll have our love and support and she’ll be part of a healing community. It’s also a community of honesty, where she can feel absolutely free to share whatever’s on her mind.” She fixed her bright blue gaze on Eden’s face. “If she and your father come, and you and Kelsey also participate when you can, you have to be honest. There’ll be no more pretense, no more denial.”
“I . . . I don’t know.” She tugged her arms back, trying to pull her hands free, but Di and Seal must have tightened their grip because she gave up. “It sounds . . . good, but it would be such a huge change for Mom and Dad. And the honesty part . . . well, I do hear what you’re saying. It makes sense. I’m just not sure that we—that I—can do it.” She turned troubled eyes to Aaron. “What do you think?”
He smiled. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to. I bet that even if being honest about your emotions is painful, it would bring your family even closer together. You know I’ll help in any way I can.” He added his hand to the pile on the table, not even feeling strange that it was resting on Seal’s. It seemed like the four of them were forming a team.
Another idea struck him, with a force that made him jerk in his chair. “Eden, if your parents did do this, what about you? Would your job be enough to hold you in Ottawa?”
She stared at him blankly, and then realization dawned on her face. “Oh my God.” She blinked and then blinked again, and it seemed as if the shadows around her eyes had lifted a little. “No. If you and Mom and Dad, and Aunt Di and Uncle Seal, were all here, I wouldn’t stay in Ottawa. Of course I’d move here.” She gave Aaron a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s not to assume that you and I are, you know, committed for the long haul, but it’d give us a much better chance to find out, wouldn’t it?”
“That it would.” He was pretty sure he already knew the answer, and so would she once the family pressures eased.
Her mouth straightened. “But Mom and Dad have to make the decision. I can’t try to sway them just because it’s in my personal interest that they move here.”
“I’m convinced that it’s in Helen’s interest,” Di said firmly. “And from what I’ve learned about Jim, anything that’s in her interest is in his as well.”
“You’re right,” Eden said. “Their love is . . . well, it’s like yours. It’s right. Seeing them, you just know they belong together.” She smiled at Aaron. “It’s what I think you and I may have one day.”
That was exactly what he thought. Now, if only her parents saw the wisdom of Di’s proposal.