by Susan Fox
“She’s got a good heart.”
He sliced the bread and they carried it and the salad, plates and cutlery, and a bottle of pinot gris and glasses out to the deck. Eden went back to the bedroom to get her sweater. The air held a nip, warning that September was around the corner.
She rejoined Aaron as he dished out the food. Rather than sit at the table, they both settled into lounge chairs. They’d spent so long making love that the sun had set. The dim light from a nearly full moon and bright stars lent intimacy.
They ate in peaceful silence for a while. Aaron topped up her wineglass but didn’t add any more wine to his. She knew he had a morning flight.
“How’s your mother holding up?” he asked.
Eden had kept him up to date via Skype. He knew her mom had had a second surgery, to remove a tumor in the lymph nodes in her armpit. She wouldn’t be receiving more radiation but was in for another round of chemotherapy—using a different medicine than before—and also antiestrogen hormonal therapy. “Not well,” she told him sadly. “She says it’s worse than the first time. Then, all the treatments didn’t rid her of cancer, and now she has to go through it all again with no assurance that she’ll be okay. She’s angry, depressed, discouraged.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She ate a few more bites and then put down her plate and lifted her wineglass. Her right hand shook, so she cupped the bowl of the glass between both hands as she lifted it to her lips. Lowering it, she said, “She’s afraid she’s going to die. We keep telling her no, she’s strong, she’ll fight it and come out on the other side. This is a temporary setback.”
“I sure hope so.”
“I won’t let myself think of any other possibility.” She took another sip. “I feel guilty for being here.”
“You shouldn’t—”
She cut him off. “I know. I’m trying not to. But she’s so needy right now, Aaron. Kelsey was supposed to leave for McGill this week, but she stayed a few extra days so I could get away. In fact, she said she’d postpone school entirely, but Mom and Dad don’t want that. They’re afraid she’ll never go back and they really want her to get her degree.”
Her throat was dry and she raised her glass for another sip. “When I said I was coming to see you, Mom got upset. She said she might be going to die, so how could she bear to lose her daughter? I told her neither thing was going to happen, but she’s in no state of mind to listen.”
“You know I don’t want to come between you. I want you to be happy, Eden.”
“I can’t be happy as long as she’s so sick.” She put down her glass and reached across the folding table between them, seeking his hand. When he wove his fingers between hers, she said, “The happiest I am is when I’m with you. I need this time. It’ll give me the courage to go back and be strong for Mom and Dad.”
Aaron let go of her hand, rose from his chair, and came to sit on the deck beside her chair. He reached for her hand again, and she threaded her fingers through his.
Gazing at the moon rather than at him, she confessed, “When she was diagnosed initially, I was terrified. Panicked. But I don’t know how to deal with panic, so I did everything I could to control the situation. I made sure Mom got to all her appointments and took all her meds and I encouraged her to be as positive as possible. Dad did the same, and I know it was because he was terrified, too. But, like me, he never admitted it. I saw him damp-eyed, but I never saw him cry.”
She licked her dry lips and swallowed. “Two nights ago, I was at the house for dinner. Mom went to bed and Kelsey was up in her room. Dad and I were alone in the kitchen, talking about Mom’s worries about me leaving Ottawa.”
She swallowed again. “He broke down. My dad, who’s always been a brick, fell apart and cried. He said he couldn’t do it without me. Not just to help with appointments and chores; he said he relies on my strength and my positive attitude to help him get through it all.”
“That’s a lot to put on you, Eden.”
“I guess, but it’s not like I have a choice. If he’s going to fall apart, I can’t. Right?”
“You can with me. If it’d help.”
The temptation was there, almost tangible in the air of this starlit night. “I don’t think it would. If I broke down, how would I gather up the pieces and go on? What does help, though, is being able to talk to you. To be honest. To admit that I’m not always as strong as I pretend to be when I’m with my family. To have you take care of me like you’ve done today.”
Reality struck again, and she took a shuddering breath. “But that’s not going to happen after this weekend, or at least not in person. Kelsey will be back at school. I can’t leave Mom and Dad again, at least not until Thanksgiving weekend, when Kelsey can come home. As for you visiting Ottawa, that would stress out my parents, which is the last thing we need right now.”
“What you need counts, too.”
“And so does what you need.” She shook her head, a wave of exhaustion and depression hitting her. “I don’t see how this is going to work, Aaron.”
“Short-term, we’ll have to be satisfied with Skype, talking on the phone, email, texts.” His voice trailed off and she could hear how dissatisfying he found that prospect, as did she. “Long-term, hopefully your mom will get better again and be more open to the idea of you moving. Or, when Miranda’s back on her feet, I could move to Ottawa.”
“You’re gritting your teeth as you say that.”
A pause in the darkness, and then he said, “Damn. Heard that, did you? Sorry. I could be happy in Ottawa with you, really. It’s just that before your mom got sick again, it was seeming like maybe you’d move here.”
“It was.” She sighed and admitted, “I’m discouraged. Mom’s right that none of this is fair. It almost makes me want to trade in my life for a different one.”
“One without a sick mom?”
She considered. “I’d never trade Mom or Dad or Kelsey, but yes, I’d want a healthy, happy mother. My old one back. That’s it. I want to go back two years and change the future so my mom never gets cancer.”
“You’d probably still be with Ray. You wouldn’t come to Destiny. You wouldn’t meet me.”
She groaned. “See? Life isn’t fair.”
“No. But it’s what we’ve got, so it’s up to us to figure out what to do with it.” He let go of her hand and shifted position on the deck so that he sat with his back against the wall. “This is too hard on you. You’re torn in two directions: your family in Ottawa and me here.”
“That’s exactly it.” She left her lounge chair and came to sit beside him on the deck, close but not touching. She didn’t reach for his hand.
“It’s like a tug-of-war,” he said. “I’m afraid that if we pull any harder on your emotions, you’re going to break.”
Sadly, hating to admit the truth, hating to admit to weakness, hating the implications of her words, she said, “It does feel like that sometimes. I love you all so much, but I’m not seeing a way for those loves to be compatible.” Knees up, clasped hands resting on them, she gazed up at the stars. The night sky was so vast and so mysterious. As lovely and as remote as the possibility of a happy ending for her and Aaron.
It was time to face the truth. She had failed again. Right now, she was failing at both being a good daughter and being a good girlfriend. Thank God for Navdeep, carrying more than his fair share, or she’d be failing at work, too.
Her mom had given her life, been the best mother imaginable, and her needs had to come first. It was time to free Aaron so he could get on with his life. She was fighting back tears and trying to find a steady voice to tell him so, when he spoke.
“I don’t want to cause you more stress and pain.” He gave a ragged laugh. “Hell, what do I know about relationships? I should’ve known I’d only screw things up.”
“No!” She turned to him, alarmed. “Aaron, don’t think that. You haven’t done anything wrong. My mom’s cancer isn’t your fault. It’s not your fault tha
t Miranda’s going through a bad time and has finally admitted she needs your help. It’s not your fault that you’re an eagle and—”
“An eagle?”
“An eagle,” she confirmed. “You need to fly, you need the ocean and open spaces, the wilderness. Those things aren’t your fault, Aaron, they’re part of who you are. They’re among the many reasons I love you so much.” Now the tears did slip from her eyes, tracking down her cheeks. No point in brushing them away; more were piling up behind them. Voice breaking, she said, “I have to let you go. We can’t keep doing this.”
He sucked in a breath but didn’t speak. Nor did she. It was so quiet, no breeze to rustle the tree branches, the birds all nestled somewhere for the night. And yet, as she’d learned, it was rarely entirely silent here. Tonight, even though the air was so calm, she could hear the ocean breathing in soft sighs against the rocky shore below. It ebbed and flowed, not pausing for one moment to acknowledge that her heart was breaking.
A rough, “Damn it!” from Aaron broke the stillness.
“I know. I hate the idea of breaking up.” But how could they continue like this when they were both in pain?
“I love you too much to give up on us.” Tension crackled from his body, but still he didn’t touch her. “If it’s what you really, truly want—not now when you’re exhausted and emotional, but in the cold light of day—then I’ll agree. But you’ll have to tell me that you see absolutely no hope for us. Because if there’s hope, I’m hanging on. And so will you.”
“I . . .” Her heart fluttered like the wings of a newborn butterfly. Tentative, wanting to believe that if those wings kept beating, she’d be able to fly. But honestly, how could she? “I want to hope, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this.”
“You’re the strongest person I know.” He swung around to sit in front of her and cradled her clasped hands in his. “No, that’s not expectation or pressure. It doesn’t mean you can’t show weakness, scream, cry, sleep for two days straight. Whatever you need, Eden. Let me help you. Let me love you and lend you my strength. Your dad leans on you and you can lean on me. We’ll get through this somehow, even if it’s just a text every now and then throughout the day to keep our connection strong.”
She imagined being back home, sitting in the waiting room at her mom’s doctor’s office, and seeing a text from Aaron: I love you. Hang in there. Yes, that would warm her heart and strengthen her resolve. “Could I give you enough back?” She hadn’t, with Ray. “It’s so one-sided. You need a real lover, a woman in your bed at night. Someone to kayak with.”
He used a finger to wipe tear tracks from her cheeks. “I need a woman who loves me. I need someone I can talk to about Miranda, someone to send photos of Fairy-ana to.”
“I love it when you do those things.” The pictures always made her smile, and the discussions about his sister made Eden feel trusted, part of his life.
“And then there’s the phone sex.”
Which was frustratingly inadequate. Yet his tone had lightened, and the wings in her heart were beating more strongly. Had she and Aaron really survived this crisis and come out on the other side? “When Ray and I had problems, we quit rather than try to work out a solution. We didn’t love each other enough to try. So is it possible that all these issues that are messing up our lives aren’t a sign that we don’t belong together but a test of our commitment?”
The starlight reflected in his eyes as he gazed at her. “That makes sense. If our love’s strong enough to survive everything that’s going on now, we’ve got a slam dunk on the future.”
She smiled a little. “That’s a, what, basketball term? I take it that it’s a good thing?”
“A very good thing.” His teeth gleamed as he smiled back. “To switch to baseball, we’re going to knock this one right out of the park.”
The butterfly in her heart was flying high now, up there with Aaron’s eagle. “I didn’t know you were a sports fan.”
“It’s a guilty secret I’ve been hiding from you. Now confess one of yours.”
She thought a moment. “Breyers Heavenly Hash ice cream in the middle of the night.”
“Damn, even your guilty secrets are fun ones.” His smile ebbed to a serious expression, but the glow in his eyes warmed the night. “I’m not going to quit on us, Eden Blaine.”
She believed him. He might question his ability to build a healthy long-term relationship but she didn’t. He’d hung in there with his sister over the years, even when the going was rough.
“We’ve been thinking we need to find a perfect solution,” she said slowly. “But didn’t I once say that people aren’t perfect and relationships aren’t perfect? We love each other. That’s worth everything. I’m not quitting on us either, Aaron Gabriel.”
“Good.” It was a single word, but his utter sincerity resonated in her heart. “So here’s a thought: While I want you to be able to share all your worries about your mom’s health, and I still want to whine about Miranda, when it comes to our relationship, let’s focus on the positive.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“Like, when we Skype, we won’t complain about not being together, we’ll be happy for the opportunity to talk.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Glass half-full? That makes so much sense. How come you’re so smart and I’m so dumb?”
He returned the laugh. “You’re overeducated, lawyer lady. It gets in the way of your common sense.”
“It probably still will,” she warned. “You’ll have to remind me on occasion.”
“I can do that.”
“And we can do this.” A full-body shiver of happiness rippled through her, filling her with energy and hope. “Oh, Aaron, I feel so much better. I was on the verge of letting our problems destroy our relationship, when in fact you’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. We can do this. We can love our families and honor our bonds to them and still love each other and keep building our relationship. It’s going to take work, and also patience and flexibility—which maybe aren’t my strongest qualities, though I’m learning—but we have enough love between us to do it.”
“I believe that. And now, to focus on the positive, here we are together in an empty cabin with the rest of the night ahead of us. I can think of only one thing that would be even better.”
“Let me guess. Being naked together?”
“You read my mind. Come, my love. Let’s go to bed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Saturday morning, Aaron woke to a familiar haunting sound and let out a groan before remembering he wasn’t alone in bed. When he did remember, he grinned. Some days, fog could be an excellent thing.
Eden, curled on her side with her arm over his chest, stirred and said sleepily, “Aaron?”
He slipped his arm under and around her, pulling her into his embrace. “Hear that?”
“Mmm. That’s eerie. What is it?”
“A foghorn. Which means . . .”
“Ah.” She yawned. “If it’s too foggy, you can’t fly.”
“Until it clears, which may be too late for passengers who had plans for the day.” He squeezed her shoulders, planted a kiss on her forehead, and then shoved himself out of bed. “I have to call Kam and Jillian, check the weather and our flight schedule, and figure out a plan. Go back to sleep, Eden.”
“What time is it?” Her voice was still drowsy.
“Five.”
“Back to sleep. Going.” She rolled over and pulled the covers high on her neck.
“The plus side of fog,” he said to her back, “is that if I can’t fly for a few hours, we can spend that time together.”
“In bed,” she muttered.
“You bet.” She was so cute when she was half-asleep, that high-speed brain slowed down for once.
Once out of bed, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee and took his computer into the kitchen so he wouldn’t disturb her. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and opened h
is email program to find a message from Kam, copied to Jillian. A couple of minutes later, Jillian was online, too, all of them wakened by the foghorn. Following their standard procedure, they checked the available weather information from the Vancouver and Victoria terminals and towers as well as the Nanaimo flight service station, and they compared notes with other Gulf Island airlines and seaplane docks.
Everyone agreed that the southern Gulf Islands were likely to be socked in until late morning. Kam would notify their passengers by text and email, so as not to wake those who were still asleep. If he didn’t hear back from people within a reasonable time, he’d make phone calls. Some passengers would cancel their flights, others would rebook for another day, and some would still hope to get out today if the weather cleared. Depending on when that clearing occurred, it might or might not be possible to accommodate everyone because the afternoon flights were already almost full. One or more of the seaplane companies located farther north, where the weather was clear enough to fly this morning, might be able to pick up the afternoon overflow.
Grateful for Kam’s efficiency and eagerness, and vowing to give him an extra flight training session this week, Aaron finished his orange juice and went back to the bedroom. Eden lay on her side, her back to the door, exactly as he’d left her. She’d looked so wrung out yesterday, her summer tan not concealing the shadows around her eyes. He loved her so much and was happy about the decisions they’d made last night, but he felt helpless. He wanted to make life easy for her, but, unfortunately, he couldn’t solve her problems.
He took off his clothes and, slowly and silently so as not to wake her, slipped into bed. His cell phone, set to vibrate, went on the pillow beside his head. If the forecast changed and flights could get out this morning, Kam would call. For anything nonurgent, he’d text or email.
When Aaron’s body brushed Eden’s, she stirred, made a small sound, and snuggled into the curve of his body. A soft sigh escaped her lips, but she didn’t wake. Aaron, used to being up before dawn, was wide awake, but he lay motionless, enjoying every moment of being with her and glad she was getting some rest.