Sail Away with Me

by Susan Fox

  “Yes, I understand what she saw in him. His voice is appealing, too, and his songs are romantic.” One track ended and Aunt Lily, who knew the album by heart just as Iris did, said, “This next song, she said it was the story of her and my father’s love.”

  The song was titled, “I Will Follow You.” Iris nodded. “It could have been written about them.” Grandmother Rose would have loved Julian’s song, “From Dust, a Rose,” just as much.

  They were both quiet as the singer vowed that he would follow his true love, follow her anywhere. That she was his destiny. As the last notes faded, Aunt Lily uncurled her legs and stood, picking up her half-finished wine. “Please excuse me. There’s something I need to do.”

  “An inspiration for a design?” As with Julian, and probably all creative people, ideas could tease her aunt’s mind at any moment, and Lily didn’t want them to slip away.

  “An inspiration. Yes, that’s right.”

  Iris gazed after her aunt as she walked from the room, so slim, graceful, and lovely. A woman with a brilliant talent and a generous heart, a woman with so much to give. A woman who did just fine without a man, yet who, Iris knew, longed as she did for a loving relationship. Would her aunt find that love in Japan, or was her heart irrevocably bound to the one man she’d ever loved?

  Iris blinked, because of course that question applied to her just as it did to her aunt.

  How could she fall in love again? How would she ever find a man who measured up to Julian? What other man would view her as he did, would care for her as deeply as he did?

  Now she truly understood why her aunt had remained single all these years.

  Like Iris, Lily had been the one to reject the offer of a future. What if . . . Iris rose slowly. Was there any chance Fredrick was now widowed or divorced? A single man who—was it possible?—still held in his heart the memory of the lovely woman he had once asked to share his life?

  Iris grabbed her wineglass and hurried to her bedroom. There, she propped herself on the bed, pillows behind her, computer on her lap. Her aunt hadn’t told her Fredrick’s surname, but the Internet could work magic. Iris held her breath as her fingers flew on the keyboard: Fredrick professor creative writing university of vict . . . As she typed, search results assembled on the screen and by the time she was halfway through typing Victoria, she had him.

  Fredrick Magnusson. Still at UVic, and now the chair of the English Department. She clicked a link and gazed at the picture on his faculty listing. Ooh, Aunt Lily, you have good taste!

  He looked to be around sixty. The poetic type, not unlike Julian. Not as handsome, perhaps, but striking with an aquiline nose, a sensual mouth, and gray eyes that, to Iris, looked intense. Sandy hair, kind of wavy, on the longish side, with lots of silver at the temples. The silver made the gray in his eyes even more dramatic. Though it was a head-and-shoulders shot, so she couldn’t be sure of his build, he looked rangy, on the tall side.

  She imagined this man thirty years ago, gazing with intensity and adoration at her beautiful young aunt. And Lily looking back, losing her shyness in those incredible moments of connection with the man she loved. Oh yes, she could see it.

  Marriage was supposed to be forever, yet the reality was that so many couples, even ones who’d loved each other with all their hearts, grew apart as they got older. Divorce was common. Was it more moral to stay with a wife you no longer loved, and the children you’d created together, or to be honest and seek a new future?

  Fredrick had chosen a new future, but Aunt Lily had denied him that option.

  How had things turned out for him? Now that Iris had identified him, it was easy to track him on the Internet. In ten minutes, she knew that he was divorced and there was no hint of a new spouse or partner. The two children were adults now, and the daughter had a scarily open-to-the-world Facebook profile. There she was in a selfie of herself, Fredrick, and his granddaughter, all three of them grinning widely.

  He was happy. He and his family were close. He was still teaching the subjects he loved. He hadn’t remarried.

  Iris copied the Facebook link and pasted it into an email. She did the same with the faculty listing and a couple of other interesting links. She addressed the email to her aunt and deliberated over the subject line and message.

  A tap sounded on the frame of her open door and her aunt said, “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” Would Aunt Lily be offended if Iris sent this email? Upset? Or might this be the stimulus she needed to take a second chance at being happy with her professor?

  Iris put her computer aside as her aunt seated herself on the side of the bed. She held an envelope with a purple ribbon tied around it. “What’s up?” Iris asked.

  “In an hour, it will be your birthday. So this is an early gift.” When Lily handed over the envelope, Iris noticed a slight tremble in her usually steady artist’s fingers. “You may choose not to use it.”

  Puzzled, Iris slipped off the ribbon. The envelope wasn’t sealed, so it was easy to pull out the contents: two pages of white letter-size paper, folded together in thirds. She unfolded them and found herself staring at an e-ticket for Blue Moon Air, for a flight to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon. Why on earth would she leave Destiny and miss the traditional birthday celebration with her family?

  Her breath caught. Already guessing what the next sheet might be, she turned to it and, yes, found a ticket to the Julian Blake Band’s New Year’s Eve performance at the Commodore Ballroom. An aqua Post-it note was stuck to the page, with Aunt Lily’s beautiful handwriting: Your grandparents’ love story had a happy ending.

  What was that supposed to mean? Mouth open, not knowing what to say, Iris looked up—to see that her aunt had silently left the room.

  Iris thought about her grandparents’ love story. Meeting in an internment camp, being separated and living in different countries for ten years, facing parental opposition, and then her shy granddad traveling by himself to Japan to reunite with the girl he had always loved. And Rose leaving her home and family, leaving everything she knew, to come to Destiny Island—all because of her love for this man. Both of them had been brave enough to risk so much.

  Iris was their granddaughter.

  And Aunt Lily was their daughter. Iris pulled the computer back onto her lap. Her aunt had issued her this challenge and she was going to reciprocate.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  On the afternoon of December thirty-first, Julian and his band were at the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver, working with the venue techs to set up their equipment. They would run through a few numbers, do a sound check and make sure everything was working okay, then have a relaxed dinner before the night’s show.

  The four of them fell into a familiar routine, each knowing his or her tasks, joking back and forth as they moved around the big stage and discussed venue specifics with the tech people. The chatter was a little buzzed because, after all, it was New Year’s Eve. This kind of gig was always special, with the audience in the mood to party. And the Commodore, on the second floor of a lovely old brick building on Granville Street, was a favorite venue: a grand old lady restored to her art deco elegance with her huge arched windows, coffered ceiling, and chandeliers, not to mention her colorful history as a speakeasy during Prohibition.

  Julian was trying to psyche himself into a celebratory mood. So many things in his life were good. Being with these great musicians who’d become close friends in the past weeks. Preparing for an audience that was bound to be upbeat. And, last but most important, coming to terms with the burden of guilt and shame that had weighed him down for so long. Not shedding it, because he couldn’t make up for those years when other boys were abused, but knowing he’d finally done what needed to be done. He was learning, in large part thanks to Iris, to be at peace with that.

  Iris . . .

  If he’d never met her, he wouldn’t feel as if he’d left a chunk of his soul on Destiny Island. Yet he couldn’t regret their time together. He was glad sh
e was in his life—and he wouldn’t let their quarrel ruin that. Eventually, his heart would come to terms with the fact that she would be only a friend, rather than a loving partner. He still carried her green-veined pebble, often sticking his hand in his jeans pocket and running his fingers over its smooth surface, feeling the ache of longing.

  He had phoned her this morning, but she hadn’t answered. Maybe she wasn’t ready to talk to him, or perhaps she was just busy. He’d left a voice mail wishing her a happy twenty-fifth birthday and happy New Year. She had texted back not long after. Texted, not called. Her message had been short:

  I hope you have the best New Year’s ever.

  As if. Didn’t she know she’d peeled back the shell around his heart, captured it for her own, and then shredded it with her graceful fingers? His muse stirred, flagging those words. Maybe he’d found the elusive ending to his song about Iris.

  He and Roy were fiddling with a speaker when his phone rang. He pulled it out, saw Iris’s name, and felt a poignant mix of happiness and regret. “Hey. Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks, Julian. Uh, where are you?” Her voice was higher pitched than usual. Nervous. After all, it was the first time they’d spoken since the heart-shredding.

  “At the Commodore, setting up for tonight’s concert. How about you? At the store?”

  “No, I’m standing on the wharf waiting for Blue Moon Air to load.”

  That made no sense. “Uh, why?”

  “Because I’m booked on the flight over to Vancouver.” Her speech was fast and breathy. “I have a ticket for the concert.”

  “What?”

  Roy was gaping at him, so Julian walked to the side of the stage, phone to his ear. “Seriously? Iris, I’d love to see you, but there’ll be a thousand people here.” He stared out at the huge room with numerous tables, the mezzanine, and mostly the huge dance floor that would, tonight, have hundreds of bodies on it. “I’ll get you a backstage pass. You can watch from there.” His brain was racing; his heart, too. “Wow, you’re coming to the show.” But why? What did this mean? “I’ll pick you up at the seaplane terminal here. We can talk.”

  “You need to set up and rehearse, don’t you?”

  “More than that, I need to see you.” How could he concentrate on anything until he knew what was going on? “I’ll pick you up, we’ll talk, you can watch us rehearse. No, wait a minute. You’re not coming alone, are you?” She wouldn’t travel by herself. She hadn’t even dared go off to university on her own.

  “All alone.” The quiver in her voice told him she was anxious about that.

  “I’m definitely meeting you. When does the flight get in?”

  “Around three. Aaron has a couple of drop-offs and pickups along the way.”

  “I’ll be there. If you get in early, or I get tied up in traffic, wait for me. Will you do that?”

  “Yes, Julian. I’ll wait for you.”

  He couldn’t think straight. His brain kept repeating What does this mean? Earlier, her text had wished him the best New Year’s ever. She must’ve known then that she was coming. Was this a test? Could she actually be considering a life with him, and using tonight’s concert to gauge whether she could handle it? He wished she’d chosen a smaller event, something midweek in a little town.

  “Julian, are you still there?”

  “I, yeah, sorry. I just . . . well, we’ll talk when you get here.”

  “Is it alright that I come? Maybe it’s inconvenient. I don’t want to impose if—”

  “Iris! Goddammit.” He took a breath, calmed himself. “Yes, I want you to come. Get on that plane and I’ll see you in Vancouver.” He ended the call before she could have any further second thoughts.

  As he turned around, shoving his phone back in his pocket with a shaking hand, he was so hyped he felt as if pure caffeine ran through his veins. The venue’s people were still working, but Roy, Camille, and Andi had all stopped and were staring at him. He realized they’d listened to his side of the conversation. Andi spoke first, sounding jazzed. “Iris is coming?”

  He nodded. “I don’t know why, but she’s coming.”

  “Because she loves you,” Camille said with certainty, beaming at him.

  If only it were that easy.

  Julian tried to get back to work, but after a few minutes Roy said, “You’re more hindrance than help. Drive down to the terminal and pace. We’ll do what needs doing here, then go for coffee. Give me a call when you want to come back to rehearse.” He grinned, white teeth flashing between his neatly trimmed ginger mustache and beard. “And if you don’t make it back to rehearse, we’ll still be okay. Just don’t be late for the show.”

  “Thanks, guys.”

  Julian wasn’t sure he was fit to drive, so he was extra careful as he negotiated the downtown streets. He parked near the Vancouver Harbour Flight Centre, and went into the terminal building. The view from the big windows was stunning, of North Van and the North Shore Mountains, the busy harbor, the giant green space of Stanley Park. But rather than wait inside, he strode along the seawall walkway, barely noticing the scenery or the chilly, damp wind blowing in off the ocean. Nerves—and hope—kept him warm.

  What seemed like hours later, but was probably less than an hour, he saw the blue and white de Havilland Beaver sporting the logo of a plane flying across a blue moon. It took its sweet time dropping altitude, landing on the ocean, and then motoring to the dock. Because he wasn’t a ticketed passenger, he wasn’t allowed down on the dock, so he waited impatiently at the gated entrance above it as Aaron jumped out, secured the plane, and opened the passenger door.

  He assisted two older women down the metal stairs, and then a young couple, and finally Iris. Graceful Iris almost stumbled as her feet met the dock. She wasn’t looking where she was going; instead, her gaze scanned the shore. Julian waved madly.

  He loved how her face lit up, a light he could see even from here, like a shaft of pure sunshine on this gloomy, gray afternoon. She waved back and started to walk along the dock. Her hair was loose, black silk tossed by the wind, and she was slim and elegant in a belted beige trench coat and black boots.

  Aaron laughed and said something, which she seemed to ignore as her steps quickened. She was almost running as she came up the skid ramp, and then she was in Julian’s arms.

  His world tilted on its axis and then settled again into a brand-new position, one that felt absolutely right.

  They clung to each other for ages, her face buried in the shoulder of his jacket, his nose deep in her almond-scented hair.

  She pulled back enough so she could look up at him, and when he saw her face he had to kiss her. It was a breathless, laughing kiss, one of sparkling brown eyes and pink-tinged cheeks.

  When they finally came up for air, he said, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Me either. But I am. With a nudge from Aunt Lily.”

  “Really? Tell me.”

  “Not here, with everyone around.”

  The other passengers from the Blue Moon Air flight came up the ramp toting their luggage, and Julian and Iris moved aside. Aaron followed the group, carrying a weekend-sized bag, and said, with a wink and a smile, “Thought you might want this, Iris.”

  “Oh! I forgot my bag.”

  “Understandable.” He passed the bag over to Julian. “Have fun, you two.”

  Julian hoped they would. “Thanks.” To Iris, he said, “How about we put your bag in the van and go park in a lot by the ocean in Stanley Park? I’d take you to my place, but it’s a bit of a drive there and back and—”

  “And you’re supposed to be rehearsing. I didn’t mean to take you away from that. When I called, I only wanted to give you a heads-up that I was coming. And a chance to tell me not to, if you didn’t want me here.”

  “Why would I not want you to come?”

  She did that head-ducking thing. “If you had some other woman attending the show.”

  He caught her chin and raised it. “There is no
other woman. There’s only you. Screw it. Scrap the van, the park. I need to know now. Why did you come, Iris?”

  “Because I love you and I want to be fierce. If I had the guts to stand by you when you told the world about Jelinek, then I can be brave enough to be with you when you perform. And when you go on the road. Just as long as . . .”

  Julian could barely breathe. His heart was pounding in his throat; he was choking on hope. “As long as what?”

  “As long as we can go back to Destiny Island sometimes. So I can rest, recharge my energy. Be with my family. Go to the store, the old commune, go sailing.”

  He needed those things, too. “Yes, Destiny should be our home.” How ironic that the island he’d once hated was now the place he most wanted to be, with Iris at his side. “Close to both our families. I want to sail Windspinner with you. I want to compose music at the old commune and get your input. I want us to make love there in spring, under the apple blossoms. In summer, when there are daisies in the grass. And in autumn, when the nip in the air makes you shiver and cling to me.”

  “Hello again,” an amused male voice said. It was Aaron, carrying luggage down to the dock. Julian and Iris remained silent as a cluster of passengers followed him.

  Then Julian said, “I want us to be together, and I want you to be happy. You have to talk to me, let me know if something’s too much for you, tell me how I can make things easier. We’ll work it out. If we need to spend some time apart, when I’m on the road and you need a Destiny break, then we’ll do it. I won’t ask you to promise me the future. Not now, when you don’t know what that future’s going to be like. But I will ask you to promise one thing.”