Chapter Seven
Seeing the disappointment on Eden’s face, Aaron set down his empty dessert bowl and put his arm around her slumped shoulders. “Marlise,” he said, “what about Lucy’s boyfriend, a guy named Barry, last name unknown?”
Eden’s shoulders straightened and she shot him a grateful look. “Yes, Barry. They’d have arrived in the spring or summer of 1969. Lucy was from Ottawa, and probably Barry was, too, though I’m not positive.”
“I didn’t join the commune until a bit later.” Marlise pressed her lips together. “Eden, you need to understand what it was like. I was a Destiny Islander, but other members of the commune came from all over the place. Many were escaping things, like war or dysfunctional families or societal mores that didn’t make sense to them. Some were really just into the drugs, the free love, the seductive music. But most of us were actually seeking something better, a new, free, more natural, less judgmental way of life.”
“That fits with what I know about Lucy.”
“We lived in the moment,” Marlise said. “We rarely talked about the past, about homes, families, schools, old friends. Lucy and Barry might never have mentioned that they came from Ottawa. We didn’t use surnames. Some of the kids didn’t even use their real names. They rechristened themselves.”
“Like Azalea,” she said.
“Yes. And when they had babies, they gave them hippie names.” Her lips curved. “I always wondered how the little boy named Blueberry Rainbow made out, and whether he changed his name when he got older.”
Aaron snorted with laughter at the name, but Eden had that scrunchy frown again. “So you’re saying that Lucy . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“She could’ve been there but called herself Sunrise or Willow.”
“Show her the photos, Eden,” Aaron prompted.
She rose, and his arm felt cold without her inside its curve. She went out to the kitchen, where she’d left her bag. Returning, she pulled out her phone. “My grandparents tried to destroy all trace of Lucy, but Mom managed to hang on to a few things. This is a school picture, but Lucy was three years younger than when she left.”
“Ah,” Marlise said, “the old Patty Duke hairstyle. She wouldn’t have been wearing her hair that way at the commune. Hmm. I’m trying to imagine her older, likely with long, straight hair parted in the middle. Either that or supershort like Twiggy, the model.”
Aaron didn’t know the women she was talking about but did know that hairstyles could dramatically change a woman’s appearance.
“And this is a picture of the two of them together,” Eden told Marlise, “but the girl facing the camera is Mom, not Lucy. You can only see Lucy’s profile.”
Marlise looked at the second photo, then at Eden. “You favor your mother.”
“I know. My sister looked a bit like Lucy when she was that age. Hmm . . .” She scrolled back on her phone to find another photo. “That’s Kelsey now, at twenty-one.”
Aaron rose so he could take a look. Eden’s sister had a slim, smiling face and big blue eyes. Her hair, worn in a spiky style not unlike Bernie’s, at the B and B, was light brown with exaggerated blond streaks. She was pretty enough to make a guy look twice, but he preferred Eden’s looks: an intelligent, serene kind of beauty that grew the more you looked at her.
“There’s something . . .” Marlise started, and then she said, “An actress, maybe, that she reminds me of. But no, I’m sorry. Do you have a picture of Barry?”
“No, I don’t.” She went over to Lionel and showed him the three images.
He studied them, then shook his head. “Sorry, Eden.”
“It was so long ago,” Marlise said, “and we were all so young.”
“I know.” Eden’s voice was subdued as she put her phone away. “You don’t happen to have any pictures from those days, do you?”
“Cameras weren’t allowed in the commune.”
Eden hung her head for a moment, then said, “Could you tell me a bit about the commune?”
“At the time,” Marlise said, “we thought it was the ultimate in free expression. No structure, no rules. No jobs or school. But it wasn’t all sex, drugs, and rock and roll. We did grow vegetables and raise animals, trying to live off the land, though we weren’t very efficient.”
“How did you all survive?” Aaron asked. “I mean, was there a source of money?”
“Good question,” Marlise said. “Some of us arrived with money in our pockets or bank accounts we could access or relatives who were willing to wire us money. Cash went into the communal pot, which was in the custody of the leader, Merlin. Two or three of the boys went out with a local fisherman, trading labor for seafood.” She frowned slightly. “Looking back, I suspect someone must have been fairly wealthy. One or more of the members, or perhaps Merlin. You had to stay on his good side because he controlled the money and most of the drugs. And oh my, were there drugs. Mary jane, hashish, acid, speed, peyote buttons, magic mushrooms. It was a psychedelic cornucopia.”
“Controlled by Merlin, the leader of the Enchantery,” Eden said quietly.
Marlise shot her a surprised glance. “The Enchantery. I haven’t heard that in a long time. It was the name we used inside. How did you hear it?”
“Azalea let it slip but made like she hadn’t and said it was a big secret. Though I don’t understand why it would be such a big deal.”
“Because Merlin had his own rules, and a lot of them were about building his power.” Marlise gave a wry laugh. “We kids ran from one kind of structure and external control and ended up with a different one. Neither one was good.”
“Tell us about Merlin,” Eden said gently.
“Why do you want to know?” Marlise asked. “He left long, long ago.”
“I’m just curious. It’s where my aunt lived for some period of time.” Eden pressed her lips together. “Was the commune a cult?”
“A cult,” the other woman said quietly. “I suppose it was. A cult with a charismatic leader who really did enchant us. Tall, dark, very attractive, with long hair and a beard. He had that thing, that alpha, charismatic thing that made people crave his approval. He also gave out a very sexual vibe. I swear, almost every girl got swept up under his spell.”
Lionel, coffee cup in hand, snorted.
Marlise ignored him and went on. “The boys as well, but differently. Merlin made them feel as if they could become like him. Be powerful, have any woman they wanted.” She swallowed. “In retrospect, there was something seriously wrong with Merlin. He may have been a sociopath or had some kind of personality disorder.”
“I don’t mean to get too personal,” Eden said, “but did those girls go with him—I mean have sex with him—willingly, or did he force them?”
“Some were happy to have his attention. Others he manipulated, maybe drugged. Some, I’m pretty sure he forced.”
This time, Lionel made a noise that sounded like a growl.
Marlise reached over and he met her hand with his. “I never got hurt,” she said. “I was on the fringes of the commune, and not for very long. I realized I didn’t belong there. Though I wasn’t a conventional girl, I didn’t like all the drugs, or the casual sex with anyone and everyone. Although Merlin fascinated me, I didn’t like him. To me, he felt dangerous. Like if I stayed, I might, despite knowing better, find myself falling under his enchantment. So I left.”
“Merlin didn’t try to keep people from going?” Aaron asked.
“By persuasion, not by force. And then—this was after I’d left—one day, he was simply gone himself.” Dryly, she added, “He did like drama. His believers said he’d turned himself into a hawk and flown away, deserting them because they didn’t live up to his standards.”
“No one heard from him again?” Aaron asked.
“Not that I ever heard about.”
“What happened to the commune then?” Eden asked.
“They tried to keep it going. But it had gone from a dictatorship to having no leadership at all, and it disintegrated. A few of the nonislanders stayed on Destiny, building lives for themselves: Azalea, Maury, Di, and Seal. Gwendy at Severn’s Reach. Forbes left the island for a number of years but came back. Then there are those of us who were islanders to start with: me, Tamsyn, Cynnie, and Darnell.”
“Those names are already on my list,” Eden said. “Can you think of any islanders who weren’t commune members but came in contact with the Enchantery or its members?”
Marlise and Lionel brainstormed, giving her another couple of possibilities to check out. After that, the conversation turned general again. Aaron liked how well Eden got along with Lionel and Marlise. It was past nine by the time he and Eden rose to go.
Outside, the air felt cool after the warmth of Lionel’s fireplace. Aaron wrapped his arm around her shoulders, glad to finally be alone with her. “Come see my place.”
She glanced around. “Now? In the dark? How do you even find it at night?”
“Motion sensor lights. Powered by solar, like most things at Lionel’s and my houses.”
“I didn’t see the panels.”
“They’re on the ocean side, in a clearing that gets sun most of the day. Come on.” He steered her toward the path that led from the shared parking area.
Lionel had inherited some money and used it to buy a chunk of waterfront back when prices were cheap. Several years ago, he’d told Aaron he had no need for so much property, so he’d subdivided it into two lots. He’d sold the smaller one to Aaron for a very reasonable price, making for affordable mortgage payments. Aaron had paid peanuts for a beat-up little trailer, which he’d lived in on the property. With occasional help from other islanders as part of the barter network, he built a log cabin using trees from his own land. Though his home was small, it met his needs just fine. It even had a bedroom set aside for his sister and niece, in case Miranda ever accepted his invitation. The best part, though, was that he had the same view as Lionel, the sounds of the ocean and nature, and a neighbor who was his closest friend.
Lights hooked in tall trees came on, dim but sufficient to show the way. As his feet, confident with familiarity, started out on the path, the footing was soft from years of fallen leaves and pine needles, and the scent of pine and ocean filled his nostrils. A piping chorus of the ribbit variety serenaded them. The path was narrow, and Aaron hugged Eden close to his side.
“What’s that strange sound?” she asked, sounding a little nervous.
“Tree frogs singing to you.”
“I feel like I’m Little Red Riding Hood on the path to Grandmother’s house.”
“All you’ll find at my cabin is me, and I’m exactly what meets the eye. No more, no less.”
Her hmm made him wonder what she was thinking. The kind of man she’d be looking for long-term would be a city guy with an important job and a serious outlook on life. Right now, though, this wasn’t about long-term, so Aaron figured that emphasizing all the opposites was a good thing. So he said, “Yup. A guy with a cabin in the woods who’s lucky enough to make a living flying planes in the most beautiful place in the world. No commitments, no strings, just living day by day here in paradise.” There was no need to mention the more serious aspects of his life, like his mortgage or the struggle to keep Blue Moon Air in the black during the off season, much less his always worrisome sister and her little girl.
“It smells good out here,” Eden said. “There’s a salty tang from the ocean and something green and earthy.”
“The scent of the woods. Pine needles, arbutus bark, fallen leaves.” He was glad the city girl appreciated it.
They came out in a clearing by the woodshed. Aaron had installed a switch that activated the porch light on his house, across the clearing. As he reached for that switch, he felt a moment’s anxiety. He was proud of the cabin he’d built, learning as he went, gratefully accepting help from other islanders. The women he’d brought here had called it cute and cozy. But it was small, simple, rustic. What would Eden think of his home?
* * *
When Aaron said, “Okay, here it is. Home sweet home,” a light came on some distance away, and it took Eden’s eyes a moment to adjust.
She saw a log cottage with a porch running the width of the front and large windows on either side of the door. The logs were nowhere near as weathered as the outside of Lionel’s house and there wasn’t a yard. A chimney confirmed that the woodshed served a useful purpose.
“It’s charming.” In a rugged, outdoorsy way that was foreign to her. “I can’t wait to see inside.” How Aaron had furnished and decorated would tell her a lot about him. He might only be a potential holiday fling, but the man intrigued her and she wanted to know him better.
They took the steps to the porch and he opened the door and ushered her inside. “I’ll give you the tour, which’ll take all of a minute. It’s only about fifteen hundred square feet.”
The living area had an open-plan design with a big stone fireplace in the middle rather than on an outside wall. The fireplace opened on one side to a sitting area with a couch and chairs and on the other side to a dining area. The dining area was separated from the kitchen by an island. The bedroom was spacious, with a desk as well as a queen-size bed. Across the hall was a nicely designed bathroom. And down the hall was a guest room, as large as the master bedroom but sparsely furnished with a single bed and a dresser.
The walls were finished logs and the floors were hardwood. All that wood could have been overwhelming but for the large windows and the open design. The furniture was simple: cinnamon leather for the couch and chairs and light oak for most of the wood furniture; beds that were basic box spring and mattress combinations; in Aaron’s bedroom, a duvet striped in shades of blue including a navy that matched the curtains. The guest room was done in shades of green. There were no paintings, just a few framed photos of ocean scenes, but then, the windows didn’t leave much wall space to hang art.
The TV wasn’t very large, suggesting he didn’t spend hours watching sports or anything else. A collection of DVDs in a basket gave her the urge to root through them to discover his taste in movies, but she resisted. Plain wooden shelves held a lovely pottery vase and a bowl, some shells, rocks, and pieces of driftwood. “I like it,” she said after they returned to the living room. “I don’t know you well, but it seems to suit you.”
“How so?”
“Masculine, simple rather than fussy, interesting, comfortable. Outdoorsy.” It struck her as a more airy, modern version of Lionel’s house—which suggested to her that as a teen and younger man Aaron had felt at home at Lionel’s. She walked to a window on the ocean side and glanced out. He, too, had a deck, and past it she saw the gleam of moonlight reflecting on the dark ocean. It was beautiful, mysterious, and she shivered. “Isn’t it scary, living all alone in the middle of, well, nothing?”
“The middle of nature.” He stepped up beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.
She was getting used to that, and to how good it felt to snuggle up against him. He managed to be warm, solid, and reassuring at the same time as raising a sexy awareness in her.
“Seems to me,” Aaron said, his voice a soft rumble above her head, “that it’s safer to be surrounded by nature than by people.”
That sounded pretty cynical. She wondered if he was a loner by nature or if something had happened to disillusion him about humankind. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but he was using those strong arms to turn her until she faced him. Without another word or any warning, he dipped his head and kissed her. His confident lips captured her surprise. “Oh!”
Last night when he’d kissed her, she’d expected the usual rather tentative first kiss, the guy checking to see if it was okay to do this, both of them finding out how mouths matched up, him not wanting to push too far. Not so with Aaron Gabriel. His sensual, knowing kiss had swept her up, banishing any possibility of awkwardness or uncertainty.
Tonight it was even better. Her lips had been created to shape and reshape themselves against his, to part for him. The moist, secret corners of her mouth had craved the intimate touch of his tongue. And her own tongue had been designed expressly to follow his lead in a dance of passion.
Aaron’s arms were around her, one high on her back, the other lower, with his hand gripping her butt. Her arms rose to lock around him and her hips thrust forward to press against the hard column of his erection behind the fly of his jeans.
There might have been words to express what she felt, the surge of heat in her blood, the insistent throbbing of arousal as it pulsed through her, but the only sounds she could make were primitive ones: moans and whimpers that arose from deep within her as the kiss, the embrace, went on endlessly.
In those endless moments, she became a woman she didn’t recognize—a physical, passionate, needy one who wanted nothing more than sexual gratification in this man’s arms.
The intensity of her need, of her feelings, suddenly penetrated her brain and she gasped and stepped back, pulling out of his arms. She raised trembling hands to her cheeks, feeling their heat, and then touched her lips, which felt swollen and tender. Vulnerable.
She felt vulnerable, and it was never a feeling she enjoyed. “Aaron, I . . . I can’t. Not now. It’s too much, too soon. I have to . . .”
“Have to what?” He sounded a little frustrated but not angry. “Analyze it to death? I thought you already did that and opted in.”
She was gaining control of her breathing and her thoughts. “I opted in to seeing where this goes. That kiss was . . . well, amazing. But that’s as far as I’m comfortable with tonight. Tomorrow or the next day . . . maybe.” She swallowed. “I don’t mean to be a tease. I just need to go more slowly.”
He sighed, a sound with a harsh edge. “I get it. Sorry, Eden, I didn’t mean to push. That’s a crappy thing to do.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You weren’t pushing. I was totally into it until I—” What? Came to my senses? Got scared by an intensity I’d never experienced before? “Anyhow, when I called a stop, you stopped.”
“Okay.” His lips curved tentatively. “So we’re good?”
“If you’ll drive me back to the B and B and give me a good-night kiss with, oh, let’s say half the, um, vigor of that one, we’ll be good.”
“Vigor?” He chuckled. “That’s a new one. But okay, let’s get you back.” He looped that big arm around her again and guided her to the front door. “Besides, you need a good night’s sleep. I have plans for you tomorrow.”
As they went out into the fresh, slightly chilly evening, she said, “Tomorrow? You mean after you finish your flights for the day?”
“Didn’t you notice me having a second glass of wine? I’m taking the day off. Mondays tend to be slow after the early flight that drops weekenders back in Victoria and Vancouver. Jillian will take that one, and the couple others during the day.”
They’d reached the woodshed, and the motion sensor lights along the trail came on as they walked. “I don’t want you changing your schedule because of me. There are still three names on the list I can contact myself.” After meeting Azalea and talking to Marlise and Lionel, Eden was understanding the value of having an islander introduce and vouch for her.
“My schedule’s flexible. Jillian’s happy to pick up as many flights as she can handle.”
No doubt the other pilot appreciated the income—which didn’t seem to be something that worried Aaron. Eden only hoped the owner of Blue Moon Air was okay with Aaron’s happy-go-lucky approach to his work schedule. A thought struck her. Back in her aunt’s day, would he have been a hippie? He sure seemed to enjoy a carefree, flexible lifestyle. She couldn’t imagine him getting into drugs, though. He struck her as more like Marlise, in being a person who wanted to control his own life, not surrender control to drugs or to another person.
“No arguing,” he said amiably.
Oh yeah, he could be amiable and laid-back when things went his way. “All right. Who do you suggest we see tomorrow?”
“I’m thinking Maury, the Hunts, maybe Sven Svenson.”
She nodded. Maury’d been at the commune, the reputably reclusive Hunts had lived near it, and Svenson had been a reporter for the Gazette.
When they reached the Jeep, Aaron took a couple of minutes to raise the soft top and fasten it in place. “I’m not going to put the back windows in. The heater works, if you’re cold.”
If she got cold, remembering that kiss would heat her up.
They drove back the way they’d come in, the headlights picking out the road from the surrounding darkness. It was spooky and she was glad not to be doing this alone.
“I’ll pick you up at nine,” he said. “Figure on being out all day. Bring clothes like you’re wearing now, but wear shorts and a tee and—”
“What? I know you don’t want me to be all Ottawa formal for these interviews, but that sounds awfully casual.”
“That’s not for the interviews. We’ll start with some play time.”
“Aaron, I—”
“No arguing,” he repeated. “Shorts and a tee, with a bathing suit underneath.”
“A bathing suit?” She hadn’t brought one with her. “I am not going swimming. That’s the ocean out there. It’s freezing cold.” Although she didn’t actually know that. “Isn’t it?”
“Says she who lives in the city, where the snow’s piled deep all winter. But yeah, it’s chilly if you’re not used to it. We’ll see how you feel about that after we go kayaking.”
“Kayaking? Aaron, I’m no athlete. Besides, you know my priority is finding my aunt. Kayaking isn’t going to help in the least.”
He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Eden, I respect that priority. I get how important it is to you to do this for your mom. But I have to wonder, does your conscience whack you upside the head every time you contemplate taking a little time to just enjoy life?”
Her mouth opened in a silent oh. Now that she thought about it . . . “I guess it kind of does,” she admitted.
“A balanced life is a healthier one.”
Her lips quirked. “That’s your fancy way of saying ‘all work and no play makes Eden a dull girl’?”
“I didn’t say dull.”
Not in actual words, no. And he did have a point about balance. “Okay, I’ll try to relax a bit more. As long as I get to interview every single person on that list and any other relevant names that come up.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She rolled her eyes.
“As for not being an athlete,” he said, “kayaking’s a snap. You’ll love it.”
Had there ever been a physical activity she’d loved or been any good at? She’d always been the scholarly type. Neither of her parents were in to sports or the outdoorsy type, unless you counted her mom’s garden. But maybe it was time to stick a toe out of her rut and try something different.
Kissing Aaron had certainly been different. The strength of her passion had caught her off guard and scared her. But tomorrow was a new day. An entire day she’d spend with him. A day to get to know him, a day to come to terms with the attraction she felt. A day to decide exactly how far she wanted to go with him.
* * *
Even though Jillian was piloting the early morning flight on Monday, it was habit for Aaron to rise when the birds began to chatter and sing. He was enjoying a mug of steaming coffee out on the deck, his bare feet up on the railing, letting the rising sun dazzle him with all its shades of yellow and gold, when his cell phone rang.
He went inside to scoop it out of the battery charger in the kitchen, hoping Jillian wasn’t calling in sick. Instead, it was his sister.
As usual, that simple, “Hey, Aaron,” tied a knot in his gut. Much as he loved Miranda and was always glad to hear from her, they so often butted heads.
“Hey, Sis,” he said.
“Is it okay I called now? You’re not leaving on a flight right away?”
“No, it’s fine. How are you? How’s Ariana?”
“We’re good. She’s sleeping. I’m in the bathroom so I won’t wake her.” Miranda had a studio apartment with a pullout couch that made up into a bed and a crib he’d bought for Ariana. “When she’s awake, she babbles away like she thinks she’s making real sentences.” He heard the smile, the love in his sister’s voice, and it made him smile, too. “Except some of the words aren’t real ones.”
His niece was almost two. “You did that, too, when you were her age. Couldn’t shut you up.” He’d been four and had already realized he needed to look after his sister. Much of the time their mom wasn’t around or capable of looking after anyone.
He took the phone back out to the deck and resumed his seat. “I haven’t seen you guys for over a month. Let’s find a time next week when I’m in Vancouver and you’re not working.”
“Well . . .” Now her voice was strained. “Uh, here’s the thing, Aaron.”
Warily, he asked, “What is it?”
“You know I’ve had two waitressing jobs, right? And Mrs. Sharma down the hall has looked after Ariana when I’m working nights?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, poor old Mrs. Sharma broke her hip, and she’s staying with her daughter’s family until she gets better. Or forever, if her daughter has her way. So I had to give up my night job and it earned the best tips and so, well . . .”
He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “You need money.”
“I’m overdue on the June rent.”
“Jesus, Miranda. You should’ve called me earlier. The landlord could evict you.”
“I thought I could work it out. You know I hate asking. You shouldn’t have to support me.” She sounded exhausted, and he guessed she’d been up most of the night trying to come up with an alternative. He pictured her now, sitting slump-shouldered on the closed toilet seat, wearing her old purple bathrobe, her honey-blond hair pulled up into a messy knot, shadows tinting the pale skin under her bluish-gray eyes. Those eyes were the only thing they had in common, the one physical attribute inherited from their mom. Miranda’s dad had clearly been a white guy. Ariana’s, on the other hand, was black. Aaron’s niece, with her dark hair and mocha skin, looked more like Aaron, with his First Nations blood, than like her mother.
“Ariana’s father should be paying child support.” How many times had he said that?
“I loved him, but he made it clear he didn’t want me or our child.”
“I know.” Why couldn’t Miranda be sensible about relationships? Instead, she took after their mom, searching constantly for that one true love—and searching in all the wrong places. At least his sister had the sense not to use drugs—and, he really hoped, never to sell her body.
“Even if he offered, I wouldn’t take money from him. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
She had pride. Not much in the way of education or common sense, but she did have pride. “It’s the law, Sis. A father is supposed to provide financial support for his child.” If his own father’d done that, maybe his mom could have made a better life for her and her kids.
“And you and I’ve always had so much respect for the law.”
Her retort gave him his second smile, though it was a wry one. When your parent didn’t put food in the cupboards or buy school supplies, much less candy, you figured out how to survive. He and Miranda had been damned good shoplifters, pickpockets, and experts at finding unlocked windows. Those habits were ingrained, so that even when they moved to Destiny Island they’d continued to steal. In Aaron’s case, until Lionel took him under his wing.
Aaron watched two hummingbirds yammer and posture at each other, squabbling over the favored perch on the feeder that hung from the eave. Cautiously, he asked, “You’re not still shoplifting, are you?”
There was a long pause and then she said defensively, “I can’t let Ariana go hungry.”
Of course she couldn’t. Whatever his sister’s flaws, she loved her daughter deeply and tried to be a good mom. He just wished she wouldn’t let pride get in her way. “Jesus. What if you got caught? If you go to jail . . .”
That had happened to their drug addict mother more than once. Then social services would come around, the same as when a neighbor reported that their mom had abandoned her kids for days on end or when the family was homeless. Because their mother’s parents had washed their hands of her and her kids—at least until the day she finally OD’ed on cocaine in an alley in the Downtown Eastside—Aaron and Miranda had been sent to foster homes. Occasionally those homes were nice; more often the foster parents were callous and sometimes they were abusive. Even worse, the siblings sometimes got sent to different homes, which drove him crazy. Who was going to look after his kid sister if he wasn’t there?
“I won’t get caught,” she asserted.
Knowing he was wasting his breath, he still had to say it. “Come back to Destiny. Live with me. You know I built the spare room with you and Ariana in mind. I’ll look after the two of you while you take some courses online. You can get your GED and some training so you can find a real job.” She’d dropped out of high school in eleventh grade, and Aaron blamed himself. After he graduated, his passion for flying took him to Victoria for training, leaving Miranda alone with their grandparents. She’d soon followed her own passion: chasing love in the arms of bad boys. On a visit to Vancouver, she’d fallen for a musician in a small-time band and a few weeks later she’d left Destiny to be with him. Their grandparents hadn’t even tried to get her to return. They’d jumped at the opportunity to be free of both their unwanted grandchildren and move to Florida.
“You’re sweet, but I can’t impose. Besides, you know I hated that island from day one.”
“Like the Downtown Eastside was better?”
“It was because it’s part of Vancouver, and Vancouver’s interesting, exciting. Destiny’s the boonies, the sticks, the people are hicks—hey, that rhymes—and I wouldn’t fit in any better there now than I did then. I still don’t get why you like it so much.”
The sunrise over the ocean, unique every morning. The whir of hummingbird wings, the flash of their emerald backs and ruby throats in the sun. The scent of pine, arbutus, and ocean. The endless fascination of the ocean. How could she hate it here? He suspected it wasn’t so much about the island itself as the circumstances of their arrival as teens. When their grandparents cold-shouldered them, they broke Miranda’s too-soft heart. She went all tough girl and never gave the place, or the kids at school, a chance. She seemed determined to hate everything about Destiny and had never changed her mind. Unlike him, who had, despite their grandparents, found peace and acceptance here.
“I like the outdoors,” he said, “and I like that people here have that whole live-and-let-live philosophy.”
“Oh yeah, our grandparents were so live and let live,” she said mockingly.
“Okay, aside from them. And they’re out of our lives. It’s nice here, Miranda. Honestly.”
“Look,” his sister said huffily, “if you won’t loan me the money, just say so. I’ll figure out some other way.”
He sighed. If only Miranda’d had a Lionel in her life at a critical time to talk some sense into her. Sadly, her big brother’s advice seemed to count for less than nothing with her.
“Yes, I’ll send you the money.” He refused to say loan because there was no way she’d be able to pay him back. “I’ll transfer it right now. How much do you need? And make sure you include enough to feed you and Ariana without having to resort to petty crime.”
“Five hundred will get us through. I hate this. You know I do.”
He did, too. He hated everything about it except for one thing. At least Miranda still loved and trusted him enough to come to him when she was in trouble. If they ever lost that closeness—or if anything ever happened to her or Ariana—it would kill him. If he could have one wish in the world, it would be for his niece to have the happy, secure, loving childhood that was denied to him and his sister. But Miranda was Ariana’s mom and she got the final say. All he could do was help in whatever ways she allowed. “Any chance my niece is awake now?”
“No. Want me to wake her?”
He’d love to hear that innocent childish babble but wouldn’t be so selfish. “No, but call me sometime when she’s awake, okay? And I mean it about getting together next week.”
“I’d like that. Now that I’ve come clean and told you the truth.”
After they hung up, he went online and sent an e-Transfer of funds, including a couple hundred dollars more than she’d requested.
And then he shoved aside his concern and looked forward to the day with Eden.