Sixteen

Dax pulled the Lexus into the parking lot behind the medical building on Broadway. The weather was on his side, offering up a crisp day and clear skies. Now if only Lily was as cooperative. At least she hadn’t phoned or texted to say no.

He’d taken a risk. But if he’d asked her, she’d have found reasons not to go. She’d been brought up to overanalyze and plan things to death. It had always been a challenge to get her to loosen up. But when she did, it was worth it.

If this weekend worked out, it’d prove they could still have a great time together. Hopefully, they’d relax, have fun, recapture the love they felt before doubts crept in. Then they could restore their marriage to how it used to be. Now that his soul had healed after Afghanistan, he’d be happy to come back to Vancouver more often, perhaps intersperse remote jobs with local ones—if Lily decided that she wanted to make space for him in her life the way she used to.

This was his new strategy. Complaining that she worked too hard and suggesting she handle her clinic differently only got her back up. Instead, he intended to show her the benefits of taking time off to be with him.

The building door opened, letting out a woman with a cane, a young guy carrying a baby, and then Lily. She glanced around, saw the car, and headed over.

Inside the car, she said, “Whistler? We’re really doing this?” Her tone said she hadn’t decided if it was a good or a bad idea.

“Yup. I rented a cabin.” He pulled out of the parking spot.

Her eyebrows lifted. “A cabin? Not a hotel room?”

He’d called contacts at Whistler, mostly other pilots, and located a cabin owned by Vancouver people who used it for weekends and holidays. This Christmas they had a brand-new baby and were staying in Vancouver. Occasionally, they rented out the place, and mutual friends had vouched for Dax. “We needed a cabin.”

“Oh we did, did we? Why’s that?”

He stopped at the parking attendant’s booth and paid, then drove out onto the street. “It’ll be like that Christmas in Moose Jaw.” Snuggling by the fire while the snow came down. Making love. “It’s a log cabin with a real wood fireplace. We can drink rum toddies by the fire. It’s an easy walk to Whistler Village and they have clothing stores, so if I didn’t pack the right stuff for you—”

“Wait a minute. You packed for me?”

“Yeah, so we wouldn’t waste time. For meals, we can pick up groceries and cook, or get takeout, or eat at nice restaurants. Whatever you want.”

“Oh Dax.” She sighed. “You should have talked to me first.”

“And have you run through a whole list of reasons why it couldn’t work?” He glanced at her. “You have admin stuff to work on. You need to look for a locum. What if a patient has an emergency? Am I hitting the main points?”

“Some of them.” She gazed out the windshield then, quietly, added to his list. “What if we don’t get along? What if it’s a disaster?”

He swallowed. Yeah, of course the possibility had occurred to him. “Then we’ll know, Lily. And that’s not such a bad thing, is it?” He eased the Lexus to a stop at a red light, behind several other cars.

Lily turned to him. “It’s better than carrying on the way things have been.” She swallowed. “But you wouldn’t have planned this trip if you thought we had no hope.”

He reached over to squeeze her pant-clad leg. “You got that right.” And she wouldn’t be sitting beside him if she didn’t think so too.

She rested her hand on top of his.

Regretfully, he had to free his hand when the light changed.

She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. “Haven’t had a chance to check messages today.” A moment later, she said, “Kim wants us to break the one-third rule.”

“She’s hooked and wants to finish the book?”

“No, just the scene. Apparently there’s one in a BDSM club?”

“There sure is.”

“Kim says that, purely for the sake of our discussion, it makes sense to finish the scene.”

“Purely for the sake of discussion.”

She tapped the screen. “And Marielle’s response is, no surprise, let’s for once throw out the rules and finish the book.” More taps. “George agrees. She wants to get it over with.”

“You gonna vote for breaking the rule?”

“What do you think?” Her fingers tapped busily away.

“I think your curiosity’s aroused. Right?”

“Right.”

“Curiosity’s a good thing to have aroused, but there are even better th—”

“Dax?” she interrupted. “Where are you going?”

Finished with her phone, she’d looked up and realized that he’d turned off Smithe Street onto Burrard, and crossed West Georgia, which wasn’t the route to Whistler.

When he didn’t answer, she said, “Are we going somewhere before we drive up to Whistler?”

He tossed her a cocky grin, his spirits rising with each block they traveled.

“Wait a minute. You’re wearing your flight jacket. We’re flying up?”

“Why would I drive when I could fly?”

“Oh my gosh, you’re flying me to Whistler!” Her voice rose with excitement. “Dax, you haven’t taken me flying in forever.”

He shrugged. “We’ve both been busy.” He glanced over. “You didn’t say you wanted to go.”

“You didn’t invite me.” She made a snort-like sound. “And isn’t that typical of how things went wrong with us?” She turned toward him. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Thanks for agreeing.” Teasingly, he added, “Finally.”

“Give me long enough to get my head around it,” she responded in the same light tone, “and I can be spontaneous.”

They both chuckled. Light turned to darkness as the road took them under Canada Place. When they came out into the sunshine again, Lily said, “You were always good for me that way. You helped me be more spontaneous. More confident and—”

“Confident? Lily, you’ve always been one of the smartest, strongest, most goal-directed people I’d ever met.” He’d always liked how different she was from his ditzy mom.

“I was going to say, more confident about trusting my instincts. My heart. My passions.” Her tone was solemn.

He pulled into the Vancouver Harbour Heliport parking lot, turned off the engine, and released his seat belt so he could face her. “You mean about the two of us?”

Her eyes, the shade of the pale blue winter sky, were clear and candid. “Yes, and about my career.”

“When I met you, you already knew what you wanted to do.”

“And that my parents would disapprove. I hadn’t told them I wanted to be a plain old family practitioner. You supported me, which gave me the courage to follow my heart.” She made a face. “Even though it meant they’d give me flack about it for the rest of my life.”

He bit back a disparaging comment about her parents, not wanting to get her back up. “Maybe you’re not curing cancer patients like Anthony, but you make a difference every day in your patients’ lives. That seems pretty damned important to me.”

Her eyes softened and went misty. “You always believed in me.”

“And you believed in me.” He touched the gold helicopter pinned to the collar of his flight jacket. Battered now from all the places it had traveled, and from more than a couple of close calls, it was his lucky charm, his symbol of his wife’s belief in him. “You gave me the confidence to go after what I wanted.” Including her, which seemed kind of ironic now.

Her gaze rested on the pin then lifted to his face. She touched his cheek. “How did we lose all of that?”

Her hand was so warm, so gentle. Caring, he hoped. He took it between his and shook his head. “Not being together enough?”

“Each of us being so independent?”

“Could be.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss into her palm, and folded her fingers around it.

When he’d returned to Vancouver last Saturday, he’d believed their marriage was only worth keeping if they could recapture their passion and love. On Sunday, they’d confessed that they weren’t sure they still loved each other, or wanted to save their marriage. Now here they were: struggling through awkward conversations, experimenting with kinky sex, heading off for a weekend in snow country. He grinned at her. “Let’s go fly, sweetheart.” The endearment popped out, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d used it.

“Let’s go fly.”

Her endearment for him had been “my love.” He refused to let the fact that she didn’t use it discourage him. They both had hope, and that was more than they’d had in a long time.

He and Lily climbed out of the car and he opened the trunk. He handed her an overnight bag. “This has jeans, a sweater, and your sheepskin jacket. They’ll be more comfy for the flight.”

“Thanks.”

He hefted his duffel, her suitcase, and a shopping bag with the lunch he’d brought, and they headed for the waiting room.

“Did you arrange this with the company you’ve been flying with this week?”

“Yes, SeaSky.” Automatically, he made an assessing scan of the bright, half-full waiting room that served the companies that flew out of the public heliport. It was the usual mix of businesspeople, students, and tourists. He gave a second look to a slim brunette, twentyish, sitting alone; she looked feverish and was rubbing her head. Sure hoped she didn’t have something contagious. Not that it was his concern today, as he had only one very special passenger.

“I need to do some paperwork and a pre-flight check,” he told Lily, who was gazing out the large windows at the harbor view. “I’ll come get you in fifteen minutes.” He went behind the desk to greet a couple of SeaSky staff and fill out the necessary forms. They’d given him a Bell 206B Jet Ranger turbine engine with seating capacity for four passengers. A classic machine he always enjoyed flying. He carted their luggage out to the waiting helicopter and stowed it, put on his helmet and did his check, then went in to collect Lily.

The passengers stood in a cluster, their backs to him, voices high-pitched, watching something he couldn’t see. People shifted, and between bodies he glimpsed Lily, down on the floor. Heart leaping with anxiety, he rushed forward.

No, thank God, she was okay. The brunette girl he’d noticed earlier lay on the floor, with Lily kneeling beside her. Clad in jeans and a cream cable-knit sweater, his wife looked young and beautiful—but her manner was pure medical authority. She directed rapid-fire questions to a panicky looking girl and boy the same age as her patient, then spoke into her phone. “She’s had the flu. A lot of vomiting over the past week. No doubt dehydrated. Friends report she had a headache and seemed a little disoriented. She obviously wasn’t monitoring her blood sugar.”

Dax checked the girl’s right wrist, saw the medical alert bracelet, and put two and two together. Diabetic coma. He had some paramedic training, but Lily clearly had this under control.

He spread his arms and urged the clustered passengers away. “Move back, folks. Let’s give the doctor room to work.”

As Lily gave the girl’s vital signs, he heard an approaching siren and realized she was conveying information to the ambulance crew. “She needs IV fluids stat,” she said, “and possibly insulin.”

Over by the front door, Jorge, one of the SeaSky staff, stood waving his arms to direct the incoming ambulance. Dax ensured there was a clear path from the door, and seconds later the paramedics rushed in.

He watched proudly as Lily worked with them, and in no time the girl was hooked up to an IV bag and being loaded onto a stretcher.

When Lily stepped back, he went to her side. “Do you need to go with her?”

Her troubled gaze flicked to him, then back to the woman. Could she bring herself to trust the patient to someone else or, as usual, would her job come first?

Shit, he was a selfish bastard. “If you need to go, I understand.”

Slowly, she turned her gaze back to him. “St. Paul’s is only minutes away and the paramedics have it under control.”

Relieved, he caught her hand and squeezed it. “She’s damned lucky you were here. What was she thinking, not taking better care of herself?”

“Kids think they’re invincible. Her friends said they’d had the trip planned and she really wanted to go. She’ll pay more attention next time.”

Thanks to Lily, there’d be a next time. He put his arm around her shoulders. “You did good, Doc.”

She shrugged. “Simple stuff. If I hadn’t been here, the paramedics would have saved her.”

“You gave them a head start so they knew exactly what to do when they arrived.” He pulled her tighter. “What you do is important.” If he told her enough times, would she stop letting her parents disrespect her?

“Thanks.”

“And now your chariot awaits.”

She put on her jacket, he collected her overnight bag, and they walked outside and down the ramp to the helicopter. She gazed at the shiny blue and white machine. “This is exciting.”

No, she was exciting. And impressive. And sexy. “Lily.” He cupped her head between his hands.

“Dax?” Then, as he bent to kiss her, she smiled and rose to meet him.

Her lips were chilly in the cool air, but warmed quickly. He kept the kiss slow and tender, aware that the people in the waiting room could see them.

When their lips parted, her gaze was solemn. “I want this. Us. I want our love back. But it feels like such a big task, trying to fix all the things that have gone wrong. How are we going to do it?”

Like he had magic answers? She was the planner. “One step at a time, I guess. And here’s the first.” He ushered her into the helicopter then took his own seat and they buckled up. A flight was due in from Victoria, and he needed to get this bird in the air.

She touched the clear window beside her. “I remember the first time you took me up. How disconcerting it was, having almost nothing between us and the sky. With the huge windows, it’s so much more immediate than being in a plane.”

“Another reason I prefer helis.”

Lily put on her sunglasses and the headset that would let them talk to each other, and kept quiet as the engine caught, the rotor blades spun, and he got clearance from the air traffic control tower to lift off.

The helicopter vibrated, power gathering. Dax never lost that tiny thrill of anticipation and the leap of his heart when the machine’s skids broke contact with the ground. He took her up and set her on course, scanning the air space and water of Vancouver Harbour, then Coal Harbour, noting the HeliJet flight from Victoria, a seaplane landing, and another taking off. Visibility was great, the sky a clear, chilly blue. After they’d flown over Lions Gate Bridge, he spoke to Lily though their headsets. “Great day for flying.”

“We couldn’t have asked for better weather.”

“There’s a bag beside you. I bought a couple of sandwiches. Egg salad and ham and cheese. Take your pick.”

“Mmm, nice. You remembered I like egg salad.”

Not about to accuse her again of being predictable, he said, “Hoped you still did.”

She opened the lunch bag, handed him the ham sandwich, and started eating the egg one. He’d also included a couple of fruit drinks.

In cruise flight, Dax kept his right hand on the cyclic, balanced the sandwich wrapper on his lap, and moved his left hand away from the collective periodically to take a bite.

When he flew tourists, he had to tell them about the scenery and answer questions, but his preference was to not talk when flying. Up in the sky on a day when the weather was stable, a sense of serenity came over him. Perhaps Lily shared that mood, because she spoke little, only an occasional comment about the world unfurling below them. The pristine whiteness of the snow capping the North Shore mountains; how the view from the gondolas at Grouse Mountain couldn’t compare to the one from the helicopter; how nice it was to cruise above the traffic on the busy Sea to Sky Highway. Dax pointed out the controlled development at Furry Creek, a tug towing a huge log boom, a pair of bald eagles on a tall tree in Brackendale, the abandoned town of Garibaldi.

Too quickly, they arrived at Whistler, and he set the helicopter down at the heliport.

“Thank you,” Lily said as he helped her out. “That was a lovely flight.”

“My pleasure.”

He retrieved their luggage and they went into the office, where he did paperwork, then they climbed into a taxi.

Whistler sparkled with the dazzle of sunshine on snow, a ski village designed to harmonize with the natural environment. The center of town, the tourist area, was too ritzy for Dax’s taste, but he did love the majestic scenery, and most of the residential areas were understated and appealing. That was true of White Gold, where they were staying. Christmas lights and decorations were still displayed at many houses.

When the cab pulled up in front of the rental cabin, Lily said, “How cute. It looks like a gingerbread house.” The peaked roof was covered with snow and icicles hung from the eaves. Shuttered windows looked like sleeping eyes waiting to open.

Dax lugged their stuff to the snow-covered porch. “I’ll get the key.” He found it, as the owners had promised, tucked behind a shutter on a side window. The front door led into a mudroom. On one side, a long rectangular box formed a bench seat, and on the other wall jackets hung on hooks above several pairs of boots. Three pairs of skis and two snowboards—one big, one small—were stacked in a corner.

“Don’t take your jacket off,” he warned. “It’ll be cold inside. We can turn on the heat then walk into the Village and pick up groceries.”

They did both take off their boots before stepping into a living room with log walls and a sizable fireplace made of rough stones, with a basket of logs and kindling beside it. The furniture was casual and suited the room: a couch and sofa done in blue and green upholstery, comfy looking chairs, wooden coffee tables, all a little the worse for wear. Bookcases on either side of the fireplace overflowed with books, DVDs, and games. Framed photographs covered the walls. He moved closer to take a look. “This must be the couple who owns it.”

Lily stepped up beside him and they both studied a photo of a tanned man and woman a little older than them with a boy aged seven or eight. Posed with mountain bikes, they wore shorts and tees and held helmets. The woman had a baby bump.

The people who owned this house had the life he’d once dreamed of: a happy family with easy access to wilderness adventure.

“A nice-looking family,” Lily said with a hint of something—wistfulness?—in her voice. Did she too feel a moment’s regret for a youthful dream they’d both outgrown?

“I like this place,” she said.

“I doubt your mom would think much of their interior decorator.”

She laughed softly, but when she answered, her voice had that same wistful tone. “No, but this is a home.” More of a home than the house she’d grown up in. She didn’t have to say those words; they both knew the truth. As for him, he’d never really had a home, yet gut instinct recognized this as one.