by Susan Fox
Iris, who had no appetite, didn’t open the menu, sipping water while the others perused theirs. Their server, Jonah, a university-student cousin of Rachelle’s, came over. Iris ordered the mushroom soup and so did Eden. Miranda stifled a yawn and ordered a crab-and-cheese-melt panini, along with a salad. And a C-Shell cocktail.
After Jonah had gone, Eden said, “Miranda, that’s a lot of food. Did you skip breakfast?”
“No, I just seem to be starving all the time these days.” She yawned again.
Eden studied her intently. “You aren’t pregnant, are you?”
Iris watched curiously as Miranda frowned and said, “I just got married.”
Eden snorted. “And the relevance of that is . . . ?”
“Uh, yeah, you’re right. But . . . pregnant . . . I mean, we’ll probably have another kid or two. We’ve talked about it but figured we’d wait awhile.”
“Birth control?” Eden asked.
“I have an implant.”
“No method’s one hundred percent reliable,” Eden said. “Except, of course, no fooling around at all, which I know doesn’t apply to you and Luke.”
“Things have been so crazy this month,” Miranda said. “I lost track of when my period’s due.” She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “No, wait . . . When we picked the wedding date, I calculated timing so my period would be over by then, but I never got that period. So I’m overdue by almost two weeks.” Her blue eyes widened. “Oh, wow. I could be pregnant.”
A pang of envy made Iris wince. What must it feel like to be in a secure, loving relationship and have a baby on the way? Would she ever have that experience?
Julian had mentioned having children . . .
“Are you okay with that?” Eden asked.
Iris jerked in her seat, and then realized Eden’s gaze was on her sister-in-law’s face.
“Yeah.” A grin took over Miranda’s mouth, bit by bit. “Yeah, definitely. Luke will be, too, if it’s true. I’ll buy a test at the pharmacy.”
Jonah arrived and placed a frothy peach-colored cocktail in front of Miranda. She gazed longingly at it and then, after he left, shoved it away. “Eden, Iris?”
Eden raised both hands. “Wish I could, but I’m driving.”
“Iris, please? Let me at least enjoy watching someone drink it.”
Iris pretty much only ever drank wine. But today... “Why not?” She raised the martini glass and took a sip. “Wow, I see why you like these.” Mostly, the drink tasted of mixed fruit juices, but there was an herbal undertone and a subtle alcoholic bite that warmed her tummy.
“If I’m not pregnant, I’m so going to regret that,” Miranda said. “Okay, now I don’t want to think about it anymore, not until I know one way or the other.” Another yawn had her raising her hand to cover her mouth. “Change of subject,” she said. “It’s nice to see Island Realty shut down. I sure hope Jelinek confesses and gets sent to jail for life.”
“I talked to the Crown Prosecutor,” Eden said. “She’s committed to getting justice. She thinks Jelinek’s lawyer will advise him to plea bargain. If so, this could all be over soon. She said she’ll insist on at least five years in prison, which—”
“Five years?” Iris broke in. “That’s not long enough.”
“It sure isn’t!” Miranda said.
“I know,” Eden agreed. “But it’s in line with sentences for similar offenses.”
They all sighed. Then Eden said, “If there’s a plea bargain, the victims won’t have to testify. And they won’t have this hanging over their heads for months, if not years. So there’s the bright side.”
“True,” Miranda said. “Though I’d liked to have seen Jelinek take the stand and try to explain how he thought that abusing boys was an act of love.”
Iris grimaced, and Eden said, “The strange thing is, he seems so normal.”
“Which is how he got away with it all these years,” Iris said. “That and his stellar reputation and influential position in the community.”
“I know,” Eden said. “He actually has done a lot of good for the island. He was the driving force behind a number of initiatives, like the medical clinic, new equipment for the fire department, bringing the Al-Khouris here from Syria. I guess it’s rare to find a person who’s totally evil.”
“Yes, he’s leaving a mixed legacy,” Iris said. “A number of good things, but also horrendous damage to the boys he chose as his victims. And their families.” She pressed her lips together. “He’ll be a model prisoner. He’ll start up some great programs among the inmates. He’ll get out early, for good behavior. And the first thing he’ll do is look for some innocent, vulnerable boy.” She grabbed her glass and took a healthy slug of the cocktail.
“Crap,” Miranda said. “I’m afraid you’re right.”
Eden said, “Bear in mind, he’ll be on the National Sex Offender Registry, so he’ll be required to report regularly to the police.”
“Where he’ll snow them with his charm,” Iris said cynically. “There’s never a happy ending to a situation like this, is there?”
“If he’s declared a high-risk sex offender,” Eden said, “one who’s likely to reoffend, then a public warning may be issued. And there’ll be restrictions on his release, like not being allowed near places where kids hang out.”
“Someone should just castrate the bastard,” Miranda said. “Hey, maybe that’ll happen in prison.”
They stared glumly at each other until Jonah brought their meals and wished them bon appétit.
Eden picked up her soupspoon. “On a happier note, Glory’s been getting loads of feedback on the book club, Iris. The first meeting was such a big hit, a lot more seniors want to sign up. Glory wanted me to ask if you can handle another half dozen.”
Iris tried to summon the energy to be happy about this development. “Sure. I think that’ll work. If we get too much bigger, though, we might need to break it into two separate groups.”
“They do know,” Miranda said, pausing in attacking her crab melt, “that Julian won’t be there, right?” Before Eden could answer, she went on. “And speaking of Julian—”
Iris broke in before she could finish the thought. “How’s Glory? Did she have a good Christmas?” She’d enjoyed working with Glory and getting to know her a bit better.
Eden exchanged a meaningful glance with Miranda and said, “She’s okay. Going through a bit of a post-Christmas letdown, though.”
“That’s too bad.” Obviously, her friends knew something that she didn’t, and she respected that they’d guard Glory’s privacy. She was concerned, though. Maybe one day she’d invite Glory for coffee, or offer to babysit Gala so Glory and Brent could have a date night.
“Speaking of letdown,” Miranda said, “how are you feeling, Iris? With Julian back in Vancouver?”
It wasn’t nosiness; it was concern, just like Iris felt for Glory. So yes, she’d tell her friends. She could use a little commiseration and a couple of sympathy hugs.
“I miss him already, but I knew that would happen. What really bothers me is that we parted on a sour note, after a disagreement. So I’m not sure how things will go, from here on.”
“A disagreement?” Eden said.
“Well, first we confessed that we love each other”—a fact that still amazed her, but evoked knowing expressions from her two friends—“and then Julian said he’d like us to be together. Really together. But I can’t. I’m not strong enough to handle the lifestyle that being with Julian would entail.”
Miranda stopped eating but didn’t put down her fork. “You know the title of the song Julian dedicated to me? ‘You’re Better than You Think’? Well, in my not-so-humble opinion, you’re stronger than you think, Iris.”
“When you and I first got to know each other,” Iris said, “I remember telling you how brave I thought you were. You said that when I fell in love, I’d find out I was braver than I think. But you were wrong, Miranda. I’m still a pathetic mess of quivering n
erves.”
“Sure.”
Her quick agreement raised Iris’s brows. “Then I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“I mean that we’re all, sometimes, a pathetic mess of quivering nerves. Like Eden said about that mock trial thing in law school.”
Eden put down her soupspoon. “Yes. And with Mom’s cancer. Every time she sees the doctor and gets blood tests, I’m terrified. But whatever happens, we’ll face it as a family. We’ll be weak together and strong together and we’ll get through it.”
“Which is what courage is really about,” Miranda said. “It’s not about being fearless, it’s about sucking it up and dealing.”
“You know that Tao of Pooh book we read for the book club?” Eden asked. “There was something in it about courage that stuck with me. That it comes from caring and compassion.”
“I know,” Iris whispered.
“That fits perfectly, with my family,” Eden said. “And for you, too, Iris, standing up for Julian when he told the truth about Jelinek. Miranda’s right, you sucked up your fear because you cared for Julian. And you cared about what might happen to other boys.”
“So if you want to be with him, then go for it,” Miranda said. “And if you don’t, well, you need to do what feels right for you.”
“I agree,” Iris said. “And that’s what I’m doing.”
“Really? It feels right to be separated from Julian?” Eden queried. “When Aaron and I fell for each other, and I was in Ottawa and he was here, it felt all wrong to be apart.”
Nothing felt right today. This morning, Dreamspinner’d been a bright and happy place with tons of customers, but Iris had felt removed from it, like she was going through the motions. The store might be cheery and wrapped in festive trappings, but her mind and heart were smothered by a fog of melancholy. Even this lunch with her girlfriends, something she’d normally revel in, felt like another task she needed to get through before she could eventually go to bed and dream of Julian.
She was trying to follow the December advice on her calendar and keep her mind even, but in fact she felt seriously out of balance. More so than ever before, even in the stressful years at UVic.
Staring down at her barely touched soup, she said, “I was always content with who I was. I would read my romance novels and believe that one day a man would come along who saw me as I see myself, not perfect but special in my own way, and he’d fall in love with that person.”
Flicking a glance upward she saw her friends watching her intently. Their expressions told her there were things they wanted to say, but they were holding back, giving her an opportunity to go on. So she did. “Julian did that. To my amazement.”
Miranda’s firm nod almost made her smile, but her lips didn’t have the energy. “In a good romance story,” Iris said, “each lover faces almost insurmountable challenges. Challenges that test them, that make them examine their fears and frailties. They find courage they’d never known they possessed and they forge ahead, they grow into stronger, better people. People who deserve and win love. Eden, Miranda, that’s what happened in your relationships, isn’t it?”
Miranda nodded, and Eden said, “Yes, but isn’t that also what’s happened with you and Julian? I can’t think of a much bigger challenge than him coming to terms with the abuse he suffered, and bringing Jelinek’s crimes to light.”
Iris nodded emphatically. “Exactly. Julian had to be strong to survive, and then he had to be strong again when he ripped the scar off the old wounds and told the world that a highly respected man was in fact a pedophile. Julian has faced the challenges life’s thrown him, and grown stronger.” She closed her eyes for a moment. He had overcome his deep-seated mistrust and learned to love, and look how she’d responded. “He’s a hero and he needs a true heroine, not a wimp who’s scared to talk to strangers.”
“You are his heroine,” Miranda said. “Have you seen that video of you?”
Iris shook her head. “You see? I don’t even have the guts to watch it.”
“Watch it,” Eden said. “See yourself the way others see you.”
Iris narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what they meant.
“You’re fierce,” Miranda said. “In a totally classy way. Fierce and strong. You should have your own dragon tattoo.”
The very notion of having her body inked brought another almost-smile.
“Not a dragon,” Eden said. “An iris. A flower that looks delicate, but in fact stands bravely on its narrow stalk, maybe bending with the wind but not breaking, always showing that lovely, serene face to the world.”
Miranda nodded.
Iris was flattered that they saw her this way. But they were wrong. Weren’t they?
* * *
“Before I forget,” Aunt Lily said that night, “your mother is working on next year’s calendar for the store.” Lily, in yoga pants and a long-sleeved tee, was curled up in a chair in the living room of their apartment, her feet tucked up under her. Iris, dressed similarly, was on the couch, her bare feet up on the coffee table.
Lily had worked the evening shift, and now they were relaxing with a glass of wine. Music played softly, Grandmother Rose’s favorite old LP on the turntable: Ricky Nelson, a singer who’d been a teen heartthrob in the late 1950s and early ’60s.
“She wants to book our trip to Japan,” Aunt Lily went on, “so she can schedule around it. Not during spring break or over a holiday weekend, of course.”
“Right.” Iris’s voice came out flat, which was exactly how she felt about life in general. Flat, gray, too apathetic to focus on the positive. Definitely too flat to be enthusiastic about a trip she’d once hoped might lead her to repeat her dad and grandfather’s experience of finding love there at the age of twenty-five. She’d already found love, for all the good it had done her.
Iris knew she should look forward to the opportunity to visit her mom’s parents, meet other relatives in person, and enjoy the scenery and culture of Japan. She also should be glad, right now, to be in this serene apartment, enjoying the loving, undemanding company of her aunt. And she was, except that the two of them had spent, and would spend, too many evenings this way. Two lonely old maids.
No, two self-sufficient, well-rounded single women. She had to view it that way. And be positive about the upcoming trip. “Sure. Let’s sit down tomorrow with a calendar.”
“Fine.” Lily sounded no more excited than she did. “How was your lunch outing?”
“Good.” Iris took a deep breath and forced herself to be more upbeat. “I’ll tell you a secret if you promise not to share it, not even with Mom and Dad.”
“I always enjoy a good secret.” She picked up her wineglass.
“Miranda’s pregnant.” Her friend had texted to say she’d bought a pregnancy test and taken it as soon as she got home. “She just found out.”
“Oh my. That’s sooner than she and Luke intended, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but she’s thrilled. I know he will be, too.”
“I’m sure he will.” Aunt Lily smiled. “I’m so happy for them.” Her smile softened at the edges, becoming reflective, wistful even. “She’s so alive, your friend Miranda.”
“Alive?”
“She lives her life, really lives it. Remember when she first came into the store, newly arrived on the island to stay with Aaron? So unhappy, depressed even, yet she was depressed in such an animated way. I saw her browsing through the board books with Ariana, and then Miranda gave this huge, exasperated huff and muttered, ‘I can’t even afford a book for my precious little girl. I’m so freaking pathetic!’”
Iris smiled fondly. “That sounds like Miranda. She’s certainly not pathetic now.”
“No. And I knew, when I heard her that day, that she wouldn’t remain pathetic for long. She loved her daughter too much, and she had too much spirit.”
“She’s fierce like her dragon.”
Aunt Lily nodded. Head lowered, gazing at her wineglass, she said, “You wer
e alive like that, Iris. When you were with Julian. You were fierce in supporting him. Now you’re subdued.”
“I’m sad he’s gone. I miss him. But I knew it would happen. I’ll bounce back.” Especially if she and Julian got over this awkward patch and resumed their friendship.
“But will you ever be fierce again?” Her aunt was still staring at the ruby-red wine.
“I doubt it. Not unless there’s another situation where a friend needs me to be fierce.”
“You think Julian no longer needs you to be fierce?”
Iris squeezed her eyes shut. “I can force myself to do it short term, but I can’t live that way.”
Her aunt didn’t speak for a long moment, as Ricky Nelson sang about being a poor little fool for falling for a girl who lied to him. Then Lily said, “Perhaps not. Only you can know that.”
“I feel as if I let him down,” Iris confessed, thinking about that teasing, deceiving girl in the song. “Not intentionally, of course. But somehow I must have given him the impression that I was, well, a person he could let himself fall in love with.”
“Iris, you don’t let yourself fall in love. It happens, regardless of whether or not you want it to.” She sighed, and then asked, almost too quietly to be heard over the music, “Perhaps the question to ask is whether you feel that you’ve let yourself down.”
Iris remembered the conversation she’d had with Julian on Windspinner, when she’d confessed to becoming complacent. She had then forced herself out of her comfort zone and had facilitated the seniors’ book club, and despite some anxiety she’d had a good time. She’d enjoyed the seniors’ stories and wisdom, had loved seeing them become so animated, and had believed that some of them had even gone away with helpful insights.
But an occasional book club get-together with some engaging, easily entertained older people was a far different thing from being part of Julian’s musician life.
Her aunt didn’t press her for a response and the two of them were quiet for a while, listening to the music.
“You remember what my mother said about Ricky Nelson?” Aunt Lily asked.
Glad of the change of subject, Iris replied, “Grandmother Rose said that when she came to Canada as a bride in 1955, she devoured all those family-oriented American TV shows. She said she learned from them, tried to model her behavior after Donna Reed, Margaret Anderson on Father Knows Best, and Harriet Nelson. She loved the Nelson family on The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and when Ricky Nelson grew up, picked up the guitar, and began to sing, all dreamy eyed, she said he was”—Iris smiled, remembering—“a dreamboat. I have to admit, he is pretty sexy on the album cover.”