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 she 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.”
Her eyes were huge, intent. “What’s that?”
“That you’ll be honest with me. I love you so much, Iris. I think that, together, we can do anything. If we trust each other and we’re honest.”
“I think so, too.” She smiled up at him. “You are the best birthday present ever.”