Chapter Nine
Tuesday morning, Eden woke in her bed at the Once in a Blue Moon, stretched, and felt a host of unusual sensations. Her skin, especially over her cheeks and nose, was taut, a little dry. Despite sunscreen, several hours of sunshine combined with a slight ocean breeze had taken their toll. Muscles unused to exercise ached but not unpleasantly—through her shoulders from kayaking and also her thighs. She pressed her thighs together, feeling the pull of muscles and the tenderness between her legs. Not from kayaking but from sex. Sex on the beach with her handsome lover and then, later, in the rosy reflected glow of the sunset, in Aaron’s bed.
What an incredible day. She’d been out on the ocean for the first time in her life, paddling a tiny craft, both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. She’d felt the hint of a oneness with the seals around her. Maybe she’d also begun to understand why Aaron was so bonded to this special place.
She had also made love in an uninhibited, passionate, yet also teasing and tender way. In the past, sex had been more of a . . . routine wasn’t exactly the right word, but it came close. Routines were often pleasant, like savoring that first cup of coffee in the morning and feeling energy tingle through her veins. Sex had been like that: enjoyable but not mind-blowing. Yesterday had been mind-blowing.
“Mind-blowing,” she said, and laughed. The aging hippies were having an influence on her. The word had never been in Eden’s vocabulary, and until yesterday, she hadn’t experienced anything that merited that description.
It had been a lot, too much to process. After a simple dinner of barbecued burgers and salad on Aaron’s deck as they watched the full moon rise, she had turned down his invitation to spend the night and asked him to drive her back to the B and B. There, she’d taken a long shower, smoothed lotion into her parched skin, and slipped into her cotton pajamas. Refocusing on her mission, she’d typed notes from the day’s unproductive interviews: Maury, Mr. and Mrs. Hunt, and Sven Svenson. She’d reread those notes, looking for possible clues and additional questions she might have asked, feeling frustrated that she was no further ahead in her quest.
She also couldn’t help but wonder whether Merlin had been a cultlike and abusive leader, and why he’d suddenly disappeared. Might those questions be relevant to her search for Lucy? Even if not, Eden’s practical, analytical mind didn’t like unanswered questions. Oh well, today was a fresh day. She had set up a couple of interviews for this morning, and this afternoon Aaron was taking her to another.
The alarm on her cell phone went off, telling her it was seven. After silencing it, she propped herself up on pillows and phoned the family home. It was ten in Ottawa, so her mom should be up and dressed.
It was Kelsey who answered, with a bright, “Hey, Sis.”
“Hi, Kelsey. How’s everything going there?”
“Not bad. Hang on a minute.”
Eden waited, and then Kelsey said, “I’m in my room and wanted to close the door so Mom can’t overhear if she comes upstairs. Eden, it’s so hard seeing her like this. She used to be so upbeat, you know? Now she barely even smiles.”
“I know. Was she any better after the cancer support group meeting yesterday?”
“We didn’t go.”
“What? Kels, I know she may say she’s too tired to go, but don’t let her manipulate you.”
“It wasn’t that. I got a call from a university friend who was in town for the day and—”
“You ditched Mom’s cancer group to go out with a friend? I don’t believe it.” When Kelsey had said she’d stay home for the summer to help out rather than get a summer job, Eden and her dad had hoped she’d finally grown up. It didn’t look as if that was true.
Her sister’s tone was hostile when she said, “Whatever.”
“Are you at least making sure she takes her meds?” Eden climbed out of bed and went over to pull back the curtains. Aaron had told her he had an early flight.
“Meds? Oh, are you talking about all those little colored pills you set out in that seven-day plastic container thingy? I seem to recall seeing it somewhere around the place.”
Eden was almost sure her sister was kidding, so she didn’t press the point. Gazing out at the still-quiet village of Blue Moon Harbor, she asked, “Is Dad around?”
“He left early for work. Since Mom doesn’t get up until nine or so and I’m here and can help her, he goes in at some godawful hour. That way, he can put in a crazy-long day and still be home for supper and spend the evening with Mom. He tries to be all cheery, but he looks tired.”
“I worry about him. He’s sixty-six. The past year’s been really hard on him.”
“They’re both looking a lot older, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, they are.” Eden and her sister were both quiet for a moment, and she felt the warmth of the bond between them. They might often rub each other the wrong way, but underneath the bickering was a solid core of love. “I’m glad you’re there with them,” Eden said. Watching a few people head toward the coffee shop at Dreamspinner bookstore and looking forward to her own B and B breakfast and day on Destiny Island, she felt sympathy for her sister. “I’m sure it’s not the most fun way to spend your summer.”
“Despite what you may think of me,” Kelsey said huffily, “I’m not just about having fun. I did offer to skip university this past year and stay home to help out.”
“I know.” Eden and her parents had been afraid that, because discipline wasn’t Kelsey’s forte, she might simply drop out of school and never return. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. Just that it’s tough looking after a sick person when you could be going to an interesting job or taking holiday time.”
“She isn’t just a sick person, she’s Mom.” The huffiness had gone, replaced by sadness.
“Yes. And in many ways that makes it tougher, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it does.” Kelsey sniffled. “Remember when we were little, how much fun the summers were?”
Because their mom was a teacher, she’d had the same summer vacation as her daughters. She’d made the days interesting, fun, even educational. There’d been lots of laughter. “I do.” Eden cleared the huskiness of emotion from her throat. “Mom’s going to get better. Things will get back to normal.”
“You bet she will. Nothing’s going to get the better of our mom.” Kelsey sounded upbeat again. Just as Eden tried to be whenever she thought about her mother’s future. The power of positive thinking.
A seaplane—the same one she’d flown in on—was leaving the dock and motoring across the harbor. It looked so bright and pretty with its white-and-blue paint job, and she thought of Aaron’s skilled hands on the steering yoke. She respected how he’d turned away from the juvenile delinquent path to finish school and become a pilot. She also had to give him points for having created a way of life that suited him perfectly—even if her ideal kind of man was quite different: responsible rather than carefree, committed to relationships rather than a loner whose only relationships were casual and short-term.
Even though she was benefitting from the latter fact. Who better to tell than her sister? For once she’d done something Kelsey was likely to approve of. Her sister might even have a useful perspective to offer. “So, Kels, you know that rebound-fling advice you gave me?”
There was a pause, then an ear-shattering whoop. “You’re screwing someone!”
Eden winced. “I wouldn’t put it quite that crudely, but yes, I’ve met someone. Totally casual, just for this week, no strings attached.”
“Excellent! OMG, I never thought you had it in you, Sis.”
“Nor did I,” Eden confessed. “But then I met Aaron.” The seaplane was lifting up from the ocean’s surface and Eden held her breath, thinking how amazing it was to defy gravity.
“Eden and Aaron, sitting in a tree—”
“Oh, shut up,” Eden said, laughing. “And it wasn’t a tree, it was a beach, if you must know. A deserted beach.” The plane had gained altitude and was rapidly turning into a mere dot in the sky.
“Wow. I like this guy.”
“I like him, too.” He was charming, considerate, and wonderful company, as well as being an amazing lover. If she’d met him back home in Ottawa, at a time when her life wasn’t so stressed with commitments . . . No, what was she thinking? Quickly, she clarified, “As a hookup. He has zero long-term potential, which is exactly what I’m looking for.” Had she been too emphatic? Surely she wasn’t trying to persuade herself.
Her life was full and stressed, and her priorities left no room for a romantic relationship. Besides, the very thought of Aaron in Ottawa, in a suit striding down Wellington Street, was absurd. He belonged on Destiny Island, just like Lionel and Marlise, Azalea, and the various other residents she’d met.
And then there was the fact that he insisted he didn’t want a serious relationship—not ever. It wasn’t just that he said so; his obvious self-sufficiency and contentment with his single life reinforced the point. As far as she could see, Aaron didn’t want to be serious about much of anything. That would certainly rule him out as boyfriend material, had she been in the market for a boyfriend. She needed a man with a strong sense of responsibility, one who wanted more out of life than to coast through it one day at a time.
“So Aaron’s perfect.”
“Pretty much.” For fling purposes. “He’s a seaplane pilot, working for the little local airline, he’s super-fit, really gorgeous. Lots of fun to be with.” And that was pretty much all she knew about him. The only really personal thing he’d told her was about his delinquent teens and how Lionel had helped him turn his life around. Since then, whenever she asked him about anything that went deeper than superficial, he somehow managed to deflect and change the subject. Last night, she’d succumbed to temptation and searched the Internet, but he seemed to have zero social media presence.
“Smart? You only like smart guys.”
Eden hadn’t really thought about that, but Kelsey was right. If Aaron had come across as less than smart, she would have been turned off. “Smart enough to learn all the stuff required to be a pilot. That’s got to be as complicated as law school.”
“And sexy goes without saying,” Kelsey said. “Except, hey, let’s say it anyway. Aaron is . . .” She paused dramatically.
Eden, smothering a laugh, finished in tandem with her. “Sexy!”
“He’s good for you,” Kelsey said.
“You know, I think he is. I feel . . . lighter. Younger.” Eden turned away from the window and sat at the desk. “Don’t tell Mom, okay?”
“Don’t want her to know you’re a slut like me?” her sister joked. Kelsey was as casual about relationships as she was about school, part-time jobs, and everything else—bouncing from one to the next on whim.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Eden teased back. “More like I don’t want her to worry.”
“I hear you. No problem.”
“Thanks. Is she around? Can I talk to her?”
“She was downstairs finishing breakfast. Hang on, I’ll go find her.”
Eden heard the sound of bare feet thumping down the stairs, and then, “Hey, Mom, it’s Eden.” And then her mother’s voice said, “Eden. Good morning, dear.”
“Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Pretty good on the whole.”
Her voice was stronger than usual, which made Eden smile. “That’s great.” She was about to gently remind her mom that missing cancer support group wasn’t a good idea, but her mother spoke first.
“How are things going? Have you found anyone who remembers Lucy?”
Eden had dreaded this part of the conversation. “I’ve talked to a number of people, including members of the old commune. But so far, no one remembers Lucy or Barry.” She didn’t mention that each time she went to interview a woman who’d once belonged to the commune, she felt a flutter of anticipation, wondering if the woman might be her aunt—and each time, her hopes were dashed.
“Oh, Eden. I’m so disappointed.”
“I’m sorry.” She rotated her shoulders, which had tightened up. “A lot of people at the commune were pretty stoned back then, and it was a long time ago. Memories are foggy. Also, it seems some of the kids changed their names, choosing hippie ones. Do you think that’s something Lucy might have done?”
After a moment’s silence, her mother said, “She might have. If she was mad enough at our parents and wanted to leave the past behind and become a new person . . . Oh my, this isn’t at all encouraging, is it?” Her voice had lost its energy now and sounded thin and tired.
“I still have more people to see. Don’t give up hope, Mom.”
“Of course not. If my Eden’s on the job, I know it’ll get done as thoroughly as possible.”
“I’ll do my best.” She always had. Eight years older than Kelsey, Eden had carried the weight of her parents’ expectations—maybe even more so after her sister was born and proved to be so happy-go-lucky.
“If there’s anything to find, you’ll find it, dear.”
Eden was determined to do exactly that and not let her mother down. But what if there truly was nothing to find? Her mom would be devastated. But at least that news would be better than learning Lucy had died.
After hanging up, Eden signed into her Butterworth Foundation account. She scanned through her emails and frowned. Navdeep hadn’t reported on his meeting yesterday with the prospective applicant. She needed that information to advise him on the next steps to take. She fired off an email requesting an update and also reminding him to start pulling together figures for the board meeting next week.
She might not be able to fix her mom’s illness or state of mind, or maybe even track down Lucy, but at least with her job she could be competent and in control.
* * *
Midmorning, Eden stepped into Dreamspinner. She had an appointment for an interview in the coffee shop in half an hour and had come early, planning to browse the bookshelves. She’d always loved reading—legal suspense and mysteries in particular—though in the past year her reading time hadn’t amounted to much more than fifteen minutes in bed at night.
The store wasn’t huge like the chain bookstores in Ottawa, but it was a true bookstore: shelves of hardcovers, paperbacks, audiobooks, and magazines; comfy chairs dotted here and there; and not a sign of fancy housewares, toys, candles, or candy. Eden breathed a sigh of anticipation.
Inside the door, a table with a “Local Authors” sign caught her attention. It held a dozen or more books. Three hardcovers by an author named Kellan Hawke had the gritty covers that denoted thrillers. She was about to reach for one when her gaze caught on several paperbacks, the kind her mom typically enjoyed. The covers had attractive scenes, each with a man and woman holding hands or embracing. She had just picked one up when a soft female voice said, “Looking for a good romance?”
Eden looked up to see an attractive woman in her midtwenties with long, sleek black hair framing an oval face with fine features. She wore a short-sleeved green blouse over tan capris and had a lovely silk-screened scarf around her neck. On her pocket was a name tag with the store name and “Iris Yakimura.”
“In fiction or in real life?” Eden joked.
A smile quirked perfect, untinted lips. “I’m afraid fiction is all we have to offer. You’re a fan of romance novels, too?”
“Actually, I’m not. The few I’ve readjust made my own relationships look pale in comparison.” She’d also thought the sex scenes were overdone, but that was before Aaron.
“Ah. That’s too bad, though I understand. I like these books because they give me hope. I want to believe that women who have their own flaws and problems still deserve love and have a chance of finding it.”
“That’s an interesting perspective.” Eden tilted her head, studying the other woman. It seemed this lovely Japanese-Canadian woman had been no more successful in the dating world than she had.
“So, if not a romance, what can I help you find today?” the bookseller asked.
“Actually, I think I will get one of these. My mom loves them.” She smiled at Iris. “My parents did find love and it’s lasted more than thirty years.”
“I’m so happy for them.”
“So am I.” Iris had an aura of serenity and genuineness that led Eden to go on. “Without Dad and their love, I don’t know how Mom would have survived the past year. She had breast cancer and it’s been a rough time.”
The other woman’s dark eyes softened with compassion. “I’m so sorry. An illness like that is so hard on everyone. When my grandmother had ALS, I would have done anything to help her feel better. I felt so powerless.”
“Yes.” Oh, yes! Eden felt the ridiculous urge to cry on this stranger’s shoulder. She did feel powerless. She could give her mom rides to appointments, make sure she took her meds, do chores for her, and try to keep her spirits up, but she couldn’t heal her. “I hate feeling powerless,” she admitted.
Iris pressed her lips together and then said slowly, “Mostly, we find the areas in life where we can have at least some control, where we feel more comfortable. When we’re unable to do that, when we’re forced into situations where we feel powerless, it’s hard to cope.”
Feeling as if she’d met an unexpected soul mate, Eden asked, “Your grandmother. Is she . . . ?”
Iris’s long lashes lowered. “I’m afraid she passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
Iris nodded. “Death comes. It’s inevitable, after all. And when it claimed my grandmother, it was a blessing because she was in such distress.”
Not wanting to think about death, Eden asked the question she’d been tossing out in every place of business she entered. “Are you and your family Destiny Island natives?”
“On my father’s side, from the very beginning of settlement. They were fishers, and later farmers. Dad and my aunt opened this bookstore and Mom later added the coffee shop.”
“This is your family’s store? It’s wonderful.”
She nodded proudly. “Thank you.”
“Iris,” Eden started, then broke off. “By the way, my name’s Eden. I’m from Ottawa and I’m trying to track down my missing aunt. She joined the commune back in 1969. Do you think your parents or aunt might have any knowledge of her?”
The young woman laughed quickly. “I doubt it. My family is quite conventional. Very industrious. Communes and hippies are definitely not their thing. But I’ll ask, if you like, just to be sure. How can I get in touch with you?”
“I’d appreciate it.” Eden gave her a business card. “I’ll probably be back in the store again if I have any spare time. I’d love to browse some more.” She gazed at Iris and found herself saying, “And perhaps to chat some more as well.” If the bookseller lived in Ottawa, Eden had a feeling they might turn into friends.
Iris’s smile touched her dark eyes. “I’d like that.”
“But now I’d better choose a book and pay for it. I’m meeting someone for coffee.”
“Here.” Iris handed her a book titled Island Magic. “This is the first in the series.”
After they completed the transaction, Eden asked if it would be all right to put up a poster on the notice board in the coffee shop. Iris readily agreed, taking the one Eden pulled from a folder in her bag and saying she’d do it herself.
Together, they went into the coffee shop area. It was an attractive place, with plants, artwork, racks of magazines and newspapers, and the bulletin board Eden had noticed on a previous visit. Every one of the eight or so tables was full and a lineup waited at the counter.
As Iris went to pin up the poster, Eden glanced around at the customers and recognized Bart Jelinek from his photo on the Destiny Island Realty ads. From the Gazette, she’d learned he owned one of the two real estate agencies and was also president of the Rotary. He was seated at a table by the window, a coffee mug in front of him, engaged in animated conversation with a man who stood beside him, takeout cup and paper bag in hand. Jelinek was a tallish man with graying blond hair. A pair of tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses gave him a rather distinguished air, while his short-sleeved, blue-and-white-striped shirt and slightly askew blue tie made him look approachable.
On the phone, he had confirmed that his family had lived beside the commune. His parents were deceased and he was an only child, so he was the only person she could talk to.
Not wanting to interrupt his conversation, Eden joined the lineup. A few minutes later, she claimed a low-fat cappuccino. Mr. Jelinek was now talking to a pair of middle-aged women. Tentatively, she approached his table.
He glanced up, smiled, and said, “Eden Blaine?”
“That’s me. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No, no.” He rose, a hand extended. “Eden, I’m Bart Jelinek.”
His handshake was hearty but not overpowering, and she got the impression he was probably a pretty successful salesman.
He turned to the two women. “Ladies, I’m afraid I have an appointment. But I do appreciate your kind words. I admit I’m seriously tempted to run when Walter Franklin’s term ends.”
“You’d be the perfect representative for Destiny,” one of the women gushed. “You do so much for this island.”
The other nodded enthusiastically, and the two of them went to join the coffee lineup.
“Sorry, Eden,” Jelinek said. “Island politics.”
“You’re considering running for office?”
“In a manner of speaking. We have a unique kind of governance here: federal, provincial, the Capital Regional District, and the Islands Trust. But I won’t bore you with that. You said you’re looking for information about the old commune?”
She repeated the story she’d told so many times in the past few days.
“I was just a little kid,” he said as Eden sipped her coffee, which was delicious. “It was fascinating to me, all those long-haired boys and girls in their hippie clothes, the loud music, the drugs. My parents hated having the commune there and tried to get them kicked off the land but never had any luck.”
“Someone had given them permission to be there? They weren’t squatters?”
“Maybe; maybe not. When I got into real estate, I checked it out. Originally, the land was owned by an elderly man from Germany who was quite a hermit. He died intestate, unmarried, childless, and without siblings. The leader of the commune, who called himself Merlin, claimed to be related. If his legal name was Otto Kruger, that claim was true. Kruger, a fairly distant relative of the deceased, turned out to be the next of kin. But by the time that was determined, Merlin had moved on and the commune had shut down. Another relative was located, Kruger was eventually presumed dead, and that relative inherited. Unfortunately, she put the land into a trust for her kids.”
“Unfortunately?”
He leaned forward, his eyes bright. “That’s a great piece of land. Subdivided into large, nicely landscaped lots, in keeping with the ambience of the island, it’d be worth a fortune.”
“Of course.” The Realtor would no doubt love to get his hands on it. “You said Merlin was legally presumed dead. Was his actual death ever confirmed, or did anyone find out where he’d gone after leaving Destiny Island?”
“No. It seems he was another one like your aunt.” He frowned. “I’m sorry, but . . .”
When he paused, Eden guessed he was thinking that Lucy, like Merlin, was most probably dead.
But he didn’t say that. Instead, he finished, “You do realize how difficult it is to find someone who’s been off the radar for half a century?”
She firmed her jaw. “I do. But I’ll keep trying. What do you remember about the commune, Mr. Jelinek?”
“Please, it’s Bart. Nothing that will help, I’m afraid. I admit I defied my parents and snuck over there to spy on the hippies. That was sure an education for an impressionable boy, I’ll tell you.” He gave a hearty laugh. “But I didn’t know the names of any of the members.”
“Might you recognize a face?”
“No, I wasn’t close enough.”
So much for that. Eden sighed. “Did you get any impression that something was off?”
“Off?”
She was about to clarify when a smartly dressed young man stopped at the table to ask Bart a question about a meeting the next night. After he’d gone, Eden said, “Sexual abuse.”
“Abuse?” Bart’s voice croaked, and behind the horn-rims, his pale gray eyes widened.
“By Merlin. Of the women.”
He blinked. “No. But as I said, I was a child. Less than ten years old. I saw . . .” He swallowed. “I saw sex in all forms. Including, uh, rough sex. But I imagine it was consensual. Weren’t the hippies all about free love? Love, not . . .” Another swallow. “Abuse.” It seemed the congenial Realtor had delicate sensibilities.
“Maybe Merlin used some women’s love for him to manipulate and abuse them.”
He picked up his mug. “Well, that would be awful, of course.” His brows pulled together. “Are you saying your aunt might have been abused and so she ran away again?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted, discouraged.
He gave her a sympathetic smile as he put his mug down again. “It sounds like a disheartening mission you’re on. I do wish you luck.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope you’re liking Destiny Island, though.”
“Very much. It’s lovely.”
He beamed. “It’s our own little corner of paradise. And you know, there’s always work for a lawyer.”
Her spirits lifted a little. “You’re trying to sell me a house, aren’t you?”
“And here I thought I was being subtle.”