Evening Stars (33 page)

Kyle grinned at her. “Trust me.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

He covered her hand with his. “This is easy. I was flying these before I had a driver’s license. Now, if you want to feel power, you should come up in my jet.”

“No, thanks.”

He motioned to the headset hanging by her door. “It’s going to get loud. Put those on and we won’t have to yell. You can also hear me talking to the tower.”

“Am I supposed to talk to the tower?”

“It would be best if you didn’t. Ready?”

No! She wasn’t ready. She would never be ready. She’d never thought much about flying, nor did she do it much. But this was different. This was a tiny flea of a plane, and it was all that was between her and a long plummet to hard and unforgiving earth.

“What if I have to throw up?” she asked.

Kyle laughed, then put on his headset. She reluctantly did the same, thinking she hadn’t really been joking.

He checked both sides of the plane, shouted, “Clear,” then started the engine. Noise and vibration filled the cockpit. Nina looked around frantically and realized that, yes, there really was only the one engine, so if it went out, it was all over for both of them.

“Should we have on parachutes?” she asked loudly, not sure the built-in microphone could work over the noise.

Kyle shook his head. “You’ll be fine. These are safe little planes.”

Little
being the operative word, she thought.

Kyle moved a bunch of knobs and dials and the plane started to move forward. Far too soon, they were heading down a runway. The plane went faster and faster. Nina tried to believe it was enough. That somehow, magically, they would take flight and not crash into a fireball of—

The plane lifted off. She couldn’t say how or why, but suddenly the ground was falling away, and they were climbing into the bright blue sky.

The private airport was on the mainland. After a few minutes they began to turn and head over the water. She saw the twinkling blue of the Sound beneath. The Strait of Juan de Fuca stretched out, and beyond that was the Pacific. It was beautiful—like a living painting. They were free and soaring, like birds.

“Want to violate Canadian airspace?”

The question came through the headset. Nina nodded eagerly. She stared out the side window, straining to see the first glimpse of Victoria Island.

They headed north. Kyle pointed out the various islands in the Sound, then they circled by Victoria. She heard him talking to someone and changing course to stay out of airport airspace. They went east, and he showed her the planes lining up to land in Vancouver, then he dropped lower as they turned south.

The little plane moved smoothly through the afternoon. The engine was steady, and Kyle flew with a confidence that allowed Nina to relax. They buzzed a couple of the tiny uninhabited islands, then flew over Friday Harbor.

“I’ve saved the best for last,” he told her. “Let’s take a look at Blackberry Island from the sky.”

She watched up ahead until the outline of the island came into view. The loopy, slightly comma shape was familiar, but what startled her most about where she’d spent most of her life was the size. Blackberry Island was small.

Kyle circled the island, showed her the bridge to the mainland and they flew over Blackberry Bay. It all took less than a minute. From up here, the few square miles looked more like a handkerchief than a place anyone could live.

“Can you see your house?” he asked.

She nodded because it was easier than saying she didn’t want to.

So small.

The words repeated over and over in her head. She’d lived and laughed, worried and fought, all in a place the size of a postage stamp. Except for a couple of years at college, she’d never lived anywhere else, had never much explored beyond the natural barriers of surf and sea.

He pointed out the Three Sisters, the Queen Anne houses on the hill, then showed her the ferry heading from the island to Seattle. All the while, Nina pressed her hand to her stomach to hold in all the feelings flooding her.

It was like looking in the mirror for the first time. You could imagine what you looked like, get an image in your head, but until you actually saw, you didn’t know.

She hadn’t known. Hadn’t realized how tiny she’d allowed her circle to become. She was supposed to have gone out and done something with her life. Instead she’d stayed stuck. No one had trapped her, she thought. She’d done that to herself.

They landed as smoothly as they’d taken off. Nina climbed out of the cockpit and looked around at the airport. She wanted to walk into the office and find a plane going anywhere that wasn’t here. She wanted to go home and get in her car and drive until she’d reached the East Coast. Then she would get on a boat and let it take her to some foreign port. The where didn’t matter, she thought. She had to keep moving.

But even as she wondered where her passport was and how much she could pack in a single bag, common sense took over. Was she really going to disappear with no warning? She had responsibilities. She was upset. This wasn’t the time to make an important decision.

“What’d you think?” Kyle asked as he put his arm around her.

“You promised to change my life and you did.”

He kissed the top of her head. “You didn’t even throw up. I’m proud of you.”

They walked to the rental office, and he gave the guy the keys. They talked about the plane for a few minutes, before returning to Kyle’s car and heading back for the island.

The drive wouldn’t take long, Nina thought grimly. They didn’t have far to go.

* * *

After dinner, Nina asked Kyle to take her home. She’d been distracted all through their meal, so convincing him she wasn’t feeling great hadn’t taken much. He’d left her shortly before eight and had promised to call her in the morning.

When he’d left, she started for the house only to turn around and hurry to her car. She got inside and backed out of the driveway.

But once she got to the center of town, she didn’t know where to go. The signs for the bridge to the mainland were clearly marked. She could do what she’d thought about earlier. Just drive. Only she wasn’t the kind of person who simply walked away without warning. She started to turn left, then went straight and somehow found herself by the marina. After parking, she got out and walked to a familiar condo building.

The concierge recognized her and called up without being asked. Nina had a brief thought that Dylan could simply refuse to see her. She couldn’t really blame him if he did. But instead of turning her away, the concierge waved her toward the elevators.

Nina rode to the top floor, then stepped out. She saw Dylan standing in his doorway.

The sun was still high enough in the sky to spill into his unit. He was in silhouette, and she couldn’t make out his features. But the second she saw him, something inside of her shattered and tears filled her eyes. She hurried toward him, then stepped inside when he moved out of her way.

She stopped in the middle of the living room and faced him. His expression was tight, his gaze hard.

“Are you crying about him?” he asked.

She shook her head, then sank down onto the black leather sofa. She covered her face with her hands and started to sob.

The cries came from deep inside of her. She felt herself shaking and knew she should probably try to get control, only she didn’t care enough. How had this happened? When had she lost sight of everything that was important?

Time passed, and eventually the tears slowed. She sniffed, then opened her eyes and saw a box of tissues in front of her. She reached for a couple and wiped her face, then blew her nose.

Dylan walked in from the kitchen. He had an open bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. He poured and handed her one.

He took a seat across from her. He wore jeans and a T-shirt. His feet were bare. It was late enough in the day that he had a little stubble on his jaw, which made him look surprisingly sexy.

She sniffed again and wadded up the tissues, then picked up the glass of wine.

“I’m sorry,” she said before taking a sip. “I’m a complete mess.”

“What happened?”

“Everything. Nothing.” She sniffed again. “I can’t keep control of all of it. My mother and the painting. You know that’s going to be a disaster. Odds are she’s going to be swindled out of the whole thing and end up owing Ambrose for his work and the bank for storage.”

“Bertie’s there to steady her, and despite how she acts, your mom respects your opinion.”

“No, she blames me for being the grown-up in the relationship.” She took another sip. “I was at the store today. It’s doing really well. I mean, better than any of us ever dreamed. Cindy has organized the inventory. Mom and Bertie do have a good eye for things.”

She leaned back against the soft cushions. “My first thought was this was great. We can get the roof fixed and the two of them can take a salary and I can finally start saving money and thinking about...”

She pressed her lips together as her eyes filled with tears. “It’s not any of that,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not Averil being an idiot about her marriage or my mom or the roof. It’s the island.”

Dylan frowned. “What about the island?”

“It’s so small. I never knew that. Or I forgot. I’ve been trapped on something the size of a postage stamp. I thought I had a real life here, but I don’t. Look at me. I’m thirty and I still live with my mother. I try to control everyone around me, and it doesn’t work. No one listens. I gave up everything for nothing and now I’m stuck.”

She stood and moved to the sliding glass door. It was partially open, and she closed her eyes against the gentle breeze. The truth was right there, within reach. If only she was willing to admit it.

“Stuck is wrong,” she whispered. “I’m not stuck. I’m afraid. I’ve always been afraid. Of change, of possibilities. I’ve told myself I can’t leave. At first it was about money. Averil needed to go to UCLA and someone had to pay for that. Then there was my mom. She wasn’t ready to be on her own. What if she and Bertie broke up? What if...”

She risked looking at him and found he was watching her, but she had no idea what he was thinking. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe the point of this was to say the words, not get a response.

“You got away,” she continued. “You did what you said. You became a doctor and came back because you’d promised you would. I never did any of that. I’ve been fooling myself. I thought I didn’t have a choice, but I always did. I was too afraid to take it.”

She walked over to the coffee table and put down her wine. Dylan continued to watch her without speaking.

“I’m sorry about the party,” she said. “I won’t apologize for seeing Kyle because I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I never meant to make you uncomfortable. You and I aren’t dating or anything romantic. You’ve been there for me and I appreciate your help. I thought we were friends. You never said you wanted anything more.”

He stood. “You’re right. I didn’t. Who is he?”

“He’s a fighter pilot for the Navy. I used to babysit his little sister. He showed up a few weeks ago.” She swallowed the rest of the words. Dylan didn’t need to know how Kyle had claimed she was his fantasy.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Are you talking about my life or Kyle?”

“Both.”

“I have no idea,” she admitted. “I just figured out I’ve been fooling myself for years. Pretending a self-importance that didn’t exist. I’ve been so busy thinking I was taking care of everyone that I never bothered to notice I was carefully trapping myself so I would have the perfect excuse not to leave my comfort zone.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know. I thought about simply leaving, but that’s hardly the mature response. I don’t want to change things for the sake of it. I need to live with the revelation for a while. Right now I’m still in shock.”

Not to mention battered, she thought. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been, how blind. A ridiculous figure.

“Hey.”

She looked at Dylan, only to find he’d opened his arms. As if inviting her in. Without thinking about the consequences, she walked into his embrace. She wrapped both arms around him and hung on tight.

Chapter Twenty-Three

AVERIL STEPPED OUT of the shower and reached for her towel. She’d gotten up later than usual, mostly because she’d stayed awake until nearly two in the morning, working on her book.

She was making progress, she thought as she dried off, then reached for her lotion. Real progress. She loved the story, loved the characters and had a rough outline for the whole second half. She’d written more in the past three weeks than at any time in her life. Not counting her articles, of course.

She loved the energy she felt, the excitement. Kevin had been reading her pages every night, and he’d offered an insightful, encouraging critique.

This is what she was meant to do. Nothing angsty or literary. Just fun, flirty stories for the teens who read the magazine. She understood them, adored them and connected with them.

She knew she probably wouldn’t sell her first book. Most authors didn’t. But that was okay. She would keep on trying until she found an editor who understood her and her work.

She dressed, then wrapped the towel around her hair. After digging through her cosmetics bag, she pulled out her moisturizer and sunscreen, then her birth control pills. She dropped a single pill on her palm and came to a stop.

What was she doing? Averil looked up and stared at herself in the mirror. What was she doing? Why was she working in an antique store rather than at her job? Why was she cooking for her mother and Bertie and Nina instead of Kevin? Why was she talking to him on the phone instead of in person? Why was she still on Blackberry Island? Why hadn’t she gone home?

She’d been faithfully taking her birth control pills every morning and for what purpose? To not have a child? But she wanted kids—she wanted kids with Kevin. Fierce longing swept through her as she thought about being with him. Not just making love, but having dinner together, seeing him. Being in the rhythm of their life.