Sail Away with Me Read online

  “This is great!”

  “No motion sickness?”

  “It’s all good.”

  “Then”—her dark eyes sparkled and a strand of hair, escaping her ponytail, flicked a black ribbon across her face—“hang on, I’ll raise the jib.”

  Jib?

  She gave him the wheel and he watched and learned as she raised a triangular sail to the front of the mast. It had two ropes—lines, she said—attached to it, which she adjusted so the jib sail was on the same side of the boat as the mainsail. And yes, the boat was going faster.

  He gripped the edge of his seat. “You promised you wouldn’t try to dunk me.”

  Iris laughed, eyes flashing and teeth gleaming, her usual reserve blown away on the wind. “This is nothing. I’m taking it easy on you, since it’s your first time.”

  That sounded like a challenge, and he found himself laughing, too. Her every move was sure, confident, and he was positive she wasn’t a risk-taker. “Do as you will,” he told her. “I trust you.”

  Chapter Five

  Julian trusted her. What a compliment. Iris couldn’t believe how comfortable she felt with this man. Despite how different they were, they clicked.

  He was grinning, his blue eyes sparkling like the glints of sunshine off the ocean’s surface. Whatever stresses weighed on him, the wind had blown them from his mind.

  Smiling back, she mused that maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised by their connection. She’d felt a similar click when she’d met Eden, and again when she met Miranda, two people who were also quite different from her. Eden had been a confident, successful Ottawa lawyer, and Miranda a woman who’d gone from Goth-girl rebel to a carefree single life in Vancouver and then to being a devoted single mom. Yet qualities of their personalities had resonated with Iris, and vice versa. The same as seemed to be happening with Julian.

  But Eden and Miranda were women. Iris was more comfortable with women. Add to that, Julian was a celebrity, and so darned hot. Not her kind of man, of course. What she hoped for was someone like Luke: an easygoing guy whose life centered on his family, and who loved living on Destiny. Not that she’d ever felt the slightest spark of attraction to Luke, nor, she was sure, vice versa.

  She darted a sideways glance at Julian, clad in jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, his face lifted to the sunshine, his eyes closed, his longish blond hair tousled by the breeze. Oh yes, she felt a spark. The kind that with the slightest encouraging breath might easily start a blaze.

  What a ridiculous thought. Julian had his pick of women, ones far more glamorous and exciting than she was. What he wanted from her was friendship, someone who was easy to be with, no pressure and no prying. Besides, even if the attraction were mutual, what could possibly come of it? His life was on the road, in the public eye, whereas she could never imagine living away from the safe cocoon of her tiny island. She yearned for a loving relationship that led to a lifetime commitment and raising children together, whereas Julian’s “love life,” as documented by social media, consisted of hookups with numerous attractive women.

  Why was she thinking about this now? Better to practice mindfulness and concentrate on this moment, in all its richness.

  She eyed the sleek line of Windspinner’s hull as it drove cleanly through the ruffled edges of small waves. The sight always gave her pleasure, as did the unfurled sails, butterfly wings taking full advantage of the breeze. Spotting a patch of dark water indicating a windier area, she asked Julian, “Would you like to fly faster?”

  His eyes opened, their blue dazzling in the sunshine. “Go for it!”

  “Hang on,” she warned, “and trust the boat. She won’t tip over.” Iris sent the responsive craft into the wind and their side of the hull lifted high out of the water.

  “This is great!” His voice sounded exultant. Free of care.

  He had been in pain, from worry over Forbes or from some other problem, and she’d helped him escape. She knew how to be a good friend, even if she’d only ever had a few friends.

  When they needed to tack, she instructed Julian on how they would “come about,” and he followed her directions, ducking under the boom as he moved to the other side of the boat.

  After trimming both sails, she settled back beside him again.

  “Are we sailing wherever the wind takes us?” he asked.

  They were traveling at a more relaxed pace, not so close into the wind, the hull not heeling over as much. “I have a destination in mind. But because of the way a sailboat works, we have to get there by tacking and jibing back and forth.” His puzzled expression made her clarify. “We can’t sail straight into the wind, so we zigzag, sailing as close to the wind as we can, first one way, then the other.”

  “What’s our destination?”

  “I packed a lunch and thought we’d anchor and have a picnic.”

  “Sounds great, but you should’ve told me. I’d have brought something.”

  “Julian, you have enough to worry about. I have very few responsibilities or concerns other than the store. Putting together a picnic lunch is a simple thing.”

  “You’re a generous woman.” He leaned sideways, his weight on one elbow, studying her.

  His scrutiny made her self-conscious. “What is it?”

  “You’re a competent one, too.”

  “Competent?” Of course she tried to be competent, more than competent in fact, at everything she undertook.

  “Sorry, that’s a pathetic word. Let’s say skilled. Accomplished. In Dreamspinner, I watched you handle that obnoxious teenager and her mom. In fluent French. You selected books for me that I’d never have looked at twice, but they’re making me reflect.”

  “I’m glad of that.”

  “Now, today, I watch you sailing this boat like you’re one with it. You don’t need my assistance, do you? You’d do as well, probably better, on your own.”

  Her lips curved slightly. “I thought you’d like to be involved.”

  “You’re right. Do you often sail Windspinner on your own?”

  “When the weather’s nice. On my free days and summer evenings, I go to the commune if I want to relax with a book, or I sail if I want something more active and energizing.”

  “You do both things alone.”

  “Yes.” Did he guess that, while sometimes she required alone time, at other times she was lonely?

  Neither of them pursued the topic and for the next half hour they were quiet. Having grown up an only child in a family of reflective, self-contained members, Iris didn’t feel the need to continually make conversation. She guessed that Julian, who spun ideas into music, also often chose silence over chatter.

  When they approached their destination, a scenic little bay cradled between two rocky points, she started the engine and dropped the jib, then let Julian help lower the mainsail. When they’d secured both sails, she pointed the boat into the wind, put it in neutral, and went to the bow. She’d anchored here often, knew the depth, and used the winch to lower the anchor and play out the right amount of chain and line. Then, back in the cockpit, she reversed, setting the anchor, and turned off the engine.

  Now the only sound was the cry of a few gulls as she pulled the dinghy closer to the boat and secured the line. Sitting down across from Julian, she said, “What do you think?”

  He’d been gazing around, but now focused on her. “It’s a pretty spot. I don’t think I’ve ever been here before. This is, uh, the northwest end of Destiny?”

  “Yes. Do you know Sunset Cove? There are a few dozen houses, several shops, a pub?”

  “Heard of it, but never been there.”

  “We’re just south of it. This is a Destiny secret, a beach you can’t find on the tourist maps. I’m sure Luke knows it, and brings the boys here.”

  “Isn’t it private property? There are houses.”

  A few homes nestled back among trees along the curve of beach, and out on the points that sheltered the bay. One belonged to Kellan Hawke, the reclusiv
e thriller writer, but that was a secret she wouldn’t share. “Foreshore can’t be privately owned. We could go ashore and walk along the beach, and it would be perfectly legal.” The beach came in two parts: a pebbly, log- and driftwood-strewn arc that framed the bay, and inside it grayish-brown sandy flats that were hidden at high tide. The tide was near its ebb now, and the sandy beach filled much of the bay. “There’s also an unmarked road and a public access path to the shore, for the islanders who know where to look.”

  “Are we going to row ashore?”

  “If you want. Let’s have lunch, and decide afterward.” She rose and took off her PFD. “You can take yours off, if you promise not to fall overboard.”

  As he stood and unfastened the device, she said, “Would you like to see below deck? We have, er, all the facilities, in case you need them.”

  “Good to know. Yeah, I’d like the grand tour.” His teasing wink suggested he didn’t think the small cabin could hold much.

  Smugly, she led the way below, backing down the three-step wooden ladder and telling him to do the same. When they both stood inside, she realized that the cabin was indeed awfully small. Julian, while larger than her slight dad, wasn’t a huge man, but he had such a physical presence, with his rangy shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs, and the contrast of his tanned skin, blond hair, and vivid blue eyes. Awareness tingled across her skin, even stronger than before, perhaps because of the intimacy of the cabin or because sailing had stimulated her senses. She took a deep, centering breath.

  “This is cool,” he said, his attention on the details of the cabin rather than on her.

  “It is, isn’t it? This is the galley, with a small fridge and a propane stovetop. The door behind you leads to the head. There’s a marine toilet and a sink. No shower, sadly. We have to use a handheld shower on the deck.” Mostly, she went for day sails, but occasionally she’d travel farther into the Gulf Islands, anchor, and spend a night or two on the boat. Sometimes one or more of her family came with her—she had wonderful memories of trips with her grandparents—but this was the first time she’d taken a friend out.

  Julian examined everything, including the little dinette that folded down into a short bed, and the front cabin filled with a V-berth double bed. “It’s all so compact and functional. And beautifully maintained. The wood gleams like it’s received lots of loving. Same above deck.”

  “Dad does most of the maintenance. He says it’s like a meditation practice, bringing him serenity as well as a sense of accomplishment. Mom’s the same with her garden.” Iris’s equivalent was tai chi. “Why don’t you go on deck, and I’ll hand things up to you?”

  He complied, and a few minutes later they were sitting in the pale sunlight, drinking sparkling fruit beverages and eating the picnic lunch she’d prepared. Not knowing his taste, she had included sushi, sliced ham and smoked chicken, three cheeses, raw veggies, and a baguette from the bakery as well as her favorite sesame rice crackers. He ate everything with apparent relish as she nibbled on tastes of this and that.

  His body language now, and when they’d been sailing, indicated that this day was achieving its purpose: to help him unwind. Iris was glad she’d heeded the messages on her calendar, sowing the seeds of friendship and sharing happiness.

  After a few minutes, he came up for air. “Sorry, I’m wolfing this down. I was hungry.”

  “Ocean air whets the appetite.”

  “It shouldn’t make me rude, though.” He pulled his sweater over his head and the navy T-shirt beneath it made a determined effort to follow, revealing a tantalizing strip of flat abdomen above the waistband of his jeans. Talk about whetting her appetite.

  He pulled down the tee, leaned back on his elbows, and studied her. “You said your grandparents bought the boat, and that the ocean’s in your family’s blood. Tell me more.”

  She shrugged. “There are more interesting things to talk about than Yakimura family history. Your musical career, for one. It must be exciting, all the travel and performances.” Excitement wasn’t something she sought; however, since this was his life, he must enjoy it.

  “Exciting, exhausting, it’s a lot of things. Which I don’t want to think about now. I want to hear about the Yakimuras and the ocean.”

  “Well, then . . .” If hearing a story would help him de-stress, then she would tell him a true one. “It started with my great-great-great-whatever grandfather, who came to Destiny in the very early days. Coast Salish people lived here, of course, but suddenly people from all corners of the world were discovering the Gulf Islands. My ancestor was a younger son. He sought adventure, and to prove himself, in the New World.”

  Julian nodded, and she went on. “He and a friend came to Victoria and were hired by a Destiny Islander as laborers to clear land and to farm. In Japan, the young men had been fishermen, and, hello”—she gestured past the boat’s railing—“ocean on all sides. Abundant fish and shellfish. The ambitious, energetic young men saved money, bought a boat together, did well as fishers, and sent money home. Their families found wives for them, and the women immigrated here. They raised families, bought a larger boat, and built a successful business.”

  “Good for them.”

  Warm in the sunshine, she pulled her Irish cable-knit sweater over her head, making sure that her long-sleeved blue shirt didn’t go with it. “They also grew produce and sold some of it. A few more Japanese came to the island, so they had a bit of a community, but they also did their best to be good neighbors and good Canadians. They became naturalized citizens.”

  She picked up a celery stick but didn’t bite into it. “There was prejudice in British Columbia. Before the turn of the twentieth century, Japanese Canadians were denied the vote. But here on Destiny, they were accepted as hardworking members of the diverse island community. Then came the First World War.” She bit into the celery, the sharp crunch an outlet for emotion. Tomorrow was Remembrance Day, so her ancestors’ experiences had been weighing on her mind.

  Julian had been grazing on the snacks as she talked, and now he said, “Yes?”

  She suspected that, like many Canadians, he knew little of this part of his country’s history. “Local recruitment offices wouldn’t accept Japanese Canadians, so my great-grandfather’s older brother and another man from Destiny traveled to Alberta and were allowed to enlist. Sadly, the other man died in the war, but my relative returned home, injured but alive.” Although humility was ingrained in her, pride made her add, “He received a medal for bravery.”

  She paused to take a long drink and to collect her emotions, because the next part of the story was even harder to talk about. “Now we get to the Second World War. Pearl Harbor was attacked.” She gazed across at Julian, who had paused with a cheese-laden slice of bread halfway to his mouth, a curious expression on his face. Clearly, he hadn’t figured out where this was going. “Have you heard of the internment of Japanese Canadians during World War Two?”

  Abruptly, he put the bread down again. “Yeah, in general terms. I hadn’t thought that—”

  “That anyone you knew would have been affected?”

  He gave an apologetic frown. “I guess. Sorry, that sounds awful.” Leaning forward, he said, “Tell me, Iris.”

  “The War Measures Act was used to justify the removal of all Japanese Canadians from anywhere around the Pacific coast, on the ridiculous grounds that they posed a threat to national security. Even men who had fought for Canada in the First World War. People who had been honorable, loyal citizens were sent to internment camps in the interior of the province and in the Prairies.”

  “My God.”

  She swallowed against a lump in her throat. “Not only that, but their property was seized. The land, businesses, and homes they had worked so hard for. Businesses that made a contribution to their communities—” She broke off, shaking her head, struggling for composure. Injustice drove her crazy, and this particular injustice felt personal.

  Julian reached across the cockpit of the bo
at and took her hands in his strong, warm ones. “That’s terrible.”

  “Can you imagine the humiliation for my great-grandfather’s brother, a man who’d been injured in service to his country, and received a medal? He and his family and all the other Japanese Canadians were stripped of their possessions, herded together like criminals, and, basically, sent to prison camps.”

  “Humiliation,” Julian echoed in a low voice. “When they did nothing to deserve that treatment.” He swallowed audibly. “No, I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”

  “I can, because my grandfather told me. He was twelve in 1942, when it happened. He grew from a boy to a man in the Tashme internment camp.” She realized that, as she’d been talking, she’d gripped Julian’s hands fiercely, perhaps to get her point across or to ground herself. That disconcerted her because, like her family, she was restrained about touching others. Julian had squeezed her hands in return, hard enough to be painful. Iris gently extracted her hands and sat back.

  Julian glanced down at his hands almost as if he didn’t recognize them, and then spread and stretched his long, graceful fingers. He gazed into her eyes. “I’m so sorry your family went through that. What happened after the war?”

  “The government did their best to deport Japanese Canadians, or at least resettle them east of the Rocky Mountains. My family went to the Prairies, but they missed the ocean. Missed their home. They returned to Destiny. They were one of only two families who did so.”

  “They had to start all over? With no boats, no property?”

  “Not exactly.” Her lips curved. “Destiny Islanders have always had their own way of doing things, and they didn’t like conforming to rules they didn’t believe in.”

  “Forbes says that’s why he fits in so well here. So what happened with your grandfather’s family and the other family?”

  “The Yakimuras had always been such good citizens and generous neighbors, so one of their own neighbors did them a huge, and completely illegal, favor. It only worked because the land title records here were quite disorganized, due to that same antiestablishment thing. Anyhow, when the government seized property, they got my family’s fishing boats, but not the land because the neighbors swore it was theirs, that they had rented it to my ancestors.”