Fly Away with Me Read online

  Ever since she’d agreed to undertake this mission for her mother, she’d been focused on practicalities, but now a tingle of excitement quickened her pulse. She was in a new place, a ruggedly scenic setting, and something about the vista of ocean and mountains invigorated her. Adventure might not be her middle name, but it seemed she was on one, and right now it didn’t feel half bad.

  Something had drawn Lucy, the aunt Eden had never even known about until a week before, to Destiny Island. What had Lucy experienced there—and what lay in store for Eden?

  Chapter Two

  Aaron was multitasking. Every sense was alert to the sky and attuned to the de Havilland Beaver, the plane’s nonverbal language more familiar to him than that of any human being in his life, even his complicated, frustrating, and much-loved half sister.

  That didn’t stop him from giving his standard tourist spiel, providing his passengers with information about Lighthouse Park, Bowen Island, and the Sunshine Coast. He was also, inevitably, very aware of the slim, brown-haired woman in the seat beside him.

  His first impression of Eden Blaine had been twofold: beautiful in a sneaks-up-on-you way and stressed-out. Feeling upset and guilty over arriving late and more than a little terrified about flying in a seaplane. He’d been afraid she’d be a white-knuckle flyer or, even worse, a puker, but instead the magic had captured her. Her body had relaxed and she’d lost that strained expression, gazing bright-eyed at the scenery and joining the other passengers in asking him questions.

  It made him happy when passengers related to the allure of flying in this beautiful part of the world. He especially liked it when the passenger was a woman he was attracted to. Eden’s enthusiasm made her even prettier. When she glanced at him, those bright eyes were the amber of dark maple syrup. They went perfectly with the glossy walnut-brown hair that was trying to escape the clasp that held it in a low ponytail. Her complexion was pale and creamy, the opposite of his own skin, darkened by his biological father’s First Nations blood and by many hours spent outdoors. Either Eden had a heavy hand with the sunscreen or she hadn’t been outside much recently.

  Her ring finger was bare.

  At twenty-eight, Aaron was a sworn bachelor and didn’t figure his views on the subject of commitment would ever change. So he was careful about who he got involved with. He didn’t want to disappoint or hurt a woman who was looking for something more than he’d ever be able to give.

  Why was Eden traveling to Destiny Island? As the owner of Blue Moon Air, he reviewed the bookings regularly and knew she was scheduled to fly back in a week’s time. An Ottawa woman wouldn’t likely come to Destiny on holiday by herself, and her blazer, briefcase, and initial stress level conveyed a business-trip aura. What kind of business could occupy her for a week? Destiny was small and relatively undeveloped, which was a big part of its charm. Oh well; he had time to learn more about Eden before the flight ended, because she was the final passenger.

  “We’re five minutes out from Texada,” he announced. He glanced over his shoulder at the two women who were traveling together. “Have you been to Sylvan Retreat before?”

  “Yes,” the older one responded, leaning forward so her voice would carry over the engine noise. “We go two or three times a year. Marg’s a painter and I’m an author, and it’s a wonderful place for recharging our creativity.”

  “Creativity?” one of the fishers said, his tone making it clear he didn’t relate.

  “Yes,” the younger of the two women, Marg, said firmly. “In the morning, we do yoga, meditation, and creativity exercises. In the afternoon, we each work on our own projects. In the evening, everyone gathers to share what we’ve done and, more importantly, what we’ve learned.”

  “Meditation?” the same fisherman said. “Well, if that’s what turns your crank.”

  Not liking the guy’s disparaging tone, Aaron said, “I’ve heard some fishers say that fishing can be kind of a Zen thing. There’s just you, the ocean, the fish.”

  The older woman took up his theme. “Really, it’s the possibility of fish. You know they exist in that ocean around you, but will they take your hook? You wait, you’re in the moment but part of something bigger, something timeless. And then it changes in an instant when a fish bites. Nothing else exists but that primal battle. Isn’t that what it’s like?”

  “It is,” one of the other fishers responded, sounding surprised. “That’s exactly what it’s like. It can be the most peaceful thing in the world, or the most exciting.”

  “It’s not meditation,” the first guy said stubbornly.

  “Because real men don’t meditate?” Eden asked in a pseudoinnocent tone.

  Everyone but the stubborn fisher chuckled. The guy’s friend said, “She’s got you there, Fred.”

  “Real men,” said Marg, “have the self-esteem to not feel threatened by terms like meditation and Zen.”

  Aaron agreed, but he didn’t want ill will in his plane. “There’s Sylvan Retreat,” he announced, squinting behind his dark glasses as he flew over the small V-shaped harbor, checking the glittering ocean surface. He noted a powerboat heading out and a pair of kayakers hugging the shore, as well as a tall figure on the dock, waving. “Harold Janks is waiting for us.” The white-haired man and his wife owned the retreat. Aaron had been flying in this region since he was a teen and knew many of the locals.

  Choosing his approach, he set the Beaver down to skim the waves, then the plane settled into them with a gentle bump and swish. At the dock, Harold helped him tie up. Aaron assisted his two passengers down the steps to the wharf, where they hugged Harold.

  “Thank you for a lovely flight,” the older woman said as Aaron set their bags on the wharf. “We appreciated the information you gave and your willingness to answer questions.”

  “Usually,” her friend Marg said, “we feel as if we’re just more baggage in the back of the plane, for all the attention the pilot pays us. Are all Blue Moon Air pilots as personable as you?”

  “There’s only me and Jillian flying for Blue Moon.” He raised his sunglasses to wink at the women. “Hate to admit it, but she’s even more personable than me.”

  As they laughed and turned away, he untied the mooring lines. Being personable was something he’d had to learn. When Lionel Williams had taught him to fly—an antiestablishment, middle-aged man and a teenaged rebel doing it by themselves without giving a damn for legalities—Aaron had loved flying immediately. Sitting in that cockpit up in the sky, he’d felt like he belonged for the first time in his life. Flying was what he was born to do. Besides, it was daring, a challenge, and it let him escape from real life. Once he’d become comfortable as a pilot, it had become a Zenlike experience, and he had no problem admitting that. He was always alert, yet he and the plane felt like a single being, as much a part of the sky as the soaring gulls.

  Years later, after he’d done his formal training and started Blue Moon Air, he’d realized that passengers disturbed that Zenlike feeling. So be it. If they paid him good money and enabled him to make a living doing what he loved, he would be grateful and give them as much as he could in return. Fortunately, as he’d grown up and made a good life for himself, he’d become a happier man. One who didn’t carry resentment, hurt, and anger. It didn’t take all that much effort for a contented guy to be friendly to folks. Especially to folks who had chosen, even if only for a visit, to be in this special corner of the world.

  Back in the Beaver, he steered out of the harbor and took off, the light breeze serving as a tail wind. As they gained altitude, he set a course northwest to Campbell River on Vancouver Island. Painter’s Lodge was renowned for salmon fishing; people came from all over the world. “How long are you guys staying at Painter’s?” he asked.

  “We booked ten days,” Fred said. “We’ll see how the fishing is. If they’re not biting, we’ll go somewhere else.”

  The Zen one said, “We haven’t arranged our flight back because we’re not sure where we’ll be. Okay if we
give you a call when we know?”

  “You bet. You can tell me about the ones you caught and the ones that got away.”

  “Deal,” the man said.

  “Last time we were here,” Fred said, “it was in the fall and we fished the Tyee Pool. You know about that? Where there’s no engines and you have to use a rowboat?”

  Aaron did know, but Fred was already telling him how he’d caught a forty-five pounder, making it sound like an epic battle. Aaron glanced at Eden, who gave him a hint of an eye roll, and he grinned. Fishers and their tall tales were an everyday experience in these parts.

  He was looking forward to dropping the three men and having Eden alone in the cockpit. In the meantime, as he flew across the Strait of Georgia, he saw her gaze out intently, seeming intrigued by the ocean traffic: a couple of white BC Ferries, a tug towing a log boom, tankers and container ships moving from port to port, sailboats with colorful spinnakers unfurled, and powerboats of all shapes and sizes. He guessed this was a new world for the city girl.

  When he finally unloaded the men and their luggage, Fred took off along the dock, the Zen one thanked Aaron, and the man who’d never spoken gave a nod of acknowledgment.

  When Aaron climbed back into the Beaver, the cockpit felt smaller. Alone with Eden, he was even more aware of her, her presence almost like a soft touch arousing his senses. “First visit to this part of the world?”

  She turned to him with a smile. “Yes. I’ve actually never traveled outside southern Ontario and Quebec before, which is embarrassing to admit for a woman who’s almost thirty.”

  “I’ve never been outside British Columbia and Washington State, so we can be embarrassed together. So, what brings you all the way over to the West Coast?”

  “I’m trying to track a long-lost relative.”

  “Wow. Haven’t heard that story before.”

  “Do you know much about Destiny Island?”

  “I’ve lived there since I was sixteen.”

  “Really? I assumed you lived in Vancouver.”

  “Nope. Blue Moon Air is based on Destiny. Tell me about this relative. Maybe I can help.”

  “Thank you. I really hope you can. It’s very important to me and my family to find her.”

  When he glanced her way, he saw she was dead serious. He wanted to bring a smile back to those soft lips. “Tell me about her.”

  “She’s my mother’s sister, Lucy Nelson. She came to Destiny Island in 1969 and joined a commune. She was with a boy named Barry. I don’t know his last name.”

  “I know there used to be a commune back in hippie days. That was so long ago, no one talks much about it.” He reflected. “The only Nelsons on the island are a married couple in their eighties, and her name’s Jane.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be her.” She sighed. “Lucy and Barry may well have split up. She could have married and changed her surname.”

  “The only Lucy I can think of is Lucy Smolenski. She’d be, oh, midforties? She probably wasn’t even born in ’69. And I don’t know any guy named Barry on the island.”

  “Could Ms. Smolenski be older than that? Mom’s sixty and her sister was—is—five years older. She was seventeen when she ran away from home with her boyfriend and came to Destiny Island.”

  Aaron had been one year younger than that when he and his half sister came to Destiny, after their mom overdosed and her parents grudgingly took them in. Forcing away the bad memories, he told Eden, “I’m almost sure Lucy Smolenski isn’t that old. She has a son in elementary school and I don’t think he’s adopted. But we can ask.”

  “We?” She cocked her head and studied him.

  “I’d like to help.” That was the truth. He’d also like to see more of her, find out if the attraction was mutual.

  “That’s nice of you.” Eden’s voice had gone formal. “But I can handle it. I’m a lawyer. I’m used to tracking people down and interviewing them.”

  He thought about that and then said, “In Ottawa?”

  “Yes, and the surrounding area.”

  “What kind of people?”

  “I’m program counsel with a foundation that funds charities and nonprofits. Mostly, I work with the boards and the staff of the organizations we fund, and with applicants for funding. Why?”

  “Do you know anything about Destiny Island?”

  “Not much. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “People who live on Destiny tend to be, shall we say, a touch eccentric. They’re characters. Independent, often bloody-minded. They’ll bicker fiercely among themselves, then close ranks against outsiders. Tourists are tolerated more than appreciated. Even though they’re responsible for a sizable chunk of the island’s economy.”

  “What are you saying? The residents won’t talk to me?”

  Glancing over, he saw her forehead was scrunched up. “Some will but others likely won’t.” People like Lionel, an American who’d come to the island as a Vietnam War draft dodger. “It’d help if a local person smooths the way.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sure.”

  The scrunchy knot was still there. “That’s very generous, but why would you help me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? We’d have to work it around my flight schedule, but I’m generally only flying five or six hours a day.”

  “I do appreciate the offer, but I’m on a tight schedule. I took a week off work and I can’t stay longer. My assistant is good, but he’s quite new. I don’t want to dump too much on his shoulders. Even more important, I hate leaving my mom.” She cleared her throat. “She’s a breast cancer survivor. She had surgery and chemotherapy and just finished six weeks of daily radiation.”

  “Oh man, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. It’s taken a lot out of her and she depends on Dad and me. My younger sister’s home from university for the summer, but she’s not, well, the most reliable person.”

  The more Eden spoke, the more she revealed about herself. “You have a strong sense of duty.” Plus, she didn’t think her assistant or her sister would do as good a job as she.

  “Duty?” She sounded offended. “I love my job, I’m paid to do it, and of course I feel responsible. As for my mom, it’s not duty to care for her, to help her find her sister. It’s what I want to do. Why can’t people understand that?”

  That sure wasn’t how things had gone in his family. Not with his cocaine-addicted mother. Not with the grandparents who’d taken in him and Miranda after their mom overdosed—and never let a day go by without making it clear how harshly or unfairly treated they felt. Even with Miranda and her two-year-old, Ariana, the only people in the world he loved, the relationship was more stressful than rewarding. But those were subjects he didn’t talk about. “People?” he asked.

  “My boyfriend didn’t get it. He said he supported my close relationship with my family, but that’s not how he acted. Can you believe he almost seemed jealous of my mom? He resented that I spent so much of my free time helping her rather than hanging out with him. But what could I do? Dad and I had to handle everything: getting her to medical appointments and support group meetings, doing the housework and grocery shopping. And, most important of all, giving her emotional support, encouraging her to fight, trying to help her recover her optimism.”

  “That sounds hard.”

  “On top of that, Dad and I had to sort out my grandmother’s estate. She died just before Mom was diagnosed.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” This woman had had one hell of a year. Destiny, with its lovely natural setting and laid-back vibe, would be good for her.

  “And yes, all those things meant that I couldn’t give as much to my job or to Ray, and I really, really hated that, but it’s not like I had a choice. He should’ve been more understanding, and he could’ve helped out more himself.”

  It wasn’t fair to judge a relationship from the outside, but all the same, Aaron said, “He sounds kind of needy.”

  “I know, right? When we met in law sch
ool, I thought we were a perfect match. Everything came so easily. But over this past winter, I realized I didn’t really know him.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m glad I found out when I did.” Gazing out the windshield, she said, “There are a lot of islands here. Is one of those Destiny?”

  “It’s farther south. And yeah, there are lots of islands. Salt Spring’s the biggest, with a population of nine or ten thousand. That’s the north end of Salt Spring over there.” He pointed to the forested shore. “The other islands range in size from a quarter or a third the size of Salt Spring down to specks that are uninhabited.”

  “There’s a tiny island down there with a single house on it. Do those people actually own their own island?”

  “Yeah. It happens.”

  “I can’t imagine. You’d be so cut off from the world.”

  “Some folks like it that way.” At one time, Aaron might have chosen that life himself, before Lionel and others showed him the benefits of community.

  “Not me. I need to be close to my family. And I like having colleagues to talk to.”

  “I gather you broke up with the needy boyfriend?” In other words, was she available and maybe interested in blowing off some rebound steam with him?

  “We certainly did. It was mutual, after a big fight brought everything to a head. He said I didn’t have the time or emotional energy to be in a relationship, and I said he didn’t have the commitment and generosity of spirit to be in one.”

  Aaron winced. “Sounds nasty. How long were you together?”

  “We dated for two years and then lived together for another two.” Her voice lowered so he could barely hear. “I thought we’d end up getting married and having children.”

  Whoa. That was major. “That’s a long time.” And a significant commitment. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.” If that was the kind of relationship she was looking for, so much for any hookup potential. She wouldn’t be interested in a week of casual, and he didn’t have anything more than that to offer.