Authors: Sieni A.M.
“I can pay for my own food, Chase,” she whispered.
“Call me old fashioned, but I find it rude if I let you pay,” he whispered back.
She secretly liked that he was behaving like a gentleman—chivalry wasn’t dead after all—but she wasn’t going to admit it out loud. She pinched her lips together instead.
“Fine. But I’m buying dessert.”
“Deal.” He smiled and let her go.
The lady swiped the card and handed it back to him.
“Thank you,” she said when they settled at a table that was covered with a tropical floral cloth, a shell used as a vase with red hibiscus flowers centered in the middle next to the salt and pepper shakers. Grains of rice were mixed with the salt to keep it from sticking together in the balmy heat. Their table was sequestered from the crowd, hidden from view behind tall potted plants, the fairy lights that wrapped around the posts surrounding them in a bright glow.
Alana looked over at Chase and smiled. “Did you eat at this place a couple months’ ago?”
“I did. I also spent some time driving around the island to get myself reacquainted. There has obviously been a lot of development since the 1900s—new buildings, tar sealed roads, a lot more people.”
Their drinks and a plate of sashimi was brought over by the waiter and placed on the table. Alana picked up a toothpick and poked a strip of sliced tuna, dipped it into the wasabi soya sauce, and popped it in her mouth. Spiciness shot up her nose and tears pricked her eyes.
“Argh!” She grabbed her nose breathing in deeply and reached for her drink, gulping hard.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I always do that,” she said in a strangled voice, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. “The first bite is always a killer, but then it gets good.” She coughed.
Chase suppressed a smile then dipped his strip of fish and ate it. She watched him closely for a similar reaction. Nothing.
“I’m curious…if you could go back in history, which time period would you choose and why?” he asked.
Alana picked another strip, dipped, chewed, and swallowed. “In any country?”
“Sure.”
She thought long and hard about her answer. “There are so many women I would have loved to meet…their struggles, fears, courage, and their willpower to carry on is beyond imagining. I would want to sit down and talk to Mary Jemison, the woman who witnessed the deaths of her family in the hands of American Indians and was then taken captive by them, married a Seneca warrior, who cared for her deeply and she in turn loved, and had his children. I can’t even imagine what she must have gone through when she embraced her new life, new language, and new culture, but I admire her for it. Here was a woman whose life changed drastically but who went on living and loving despite tragedy and hardship.”
She wanted to live her life the same way
, Alana thought to herself. But she knew she had a long way to go. She paused and took a sip of her drink. “Mother Teresa.” She smiled softly. “I love her. To me she epitomized a life of giving and serving freely. What she said to encourage others mirrored what she did, and so much of what she spoke about has always struck me.” Chase smiled warmly at her, acknowledging a woman who in her own way was a healer. “Then there’s Margaret Mead. Boy, would I have loved to be a fly on the wall when she interviewed those girls in Ta’u for her
Coming of Age
book.” Alana fiddled with the straw of her drink. “Queen Salamasina—Samoa’s very own royalty and one and only queen. A woman who held the four most prestigious titles in the land, united all of Samoa, and reigned without warfare. I want to know how she did it. What was she like? What was her personality like? Did she have a plan, goals, aspirations? What did she fear? What did she even look like?”
“If I could tell you, I would. But that was before my time,” he said with a grin.
“Well, shucks. You only missed her by a century.” She smiled in return and shook her head. Taking another piece of raw tuna, she ate it, and continued. “Fanny Van de Grift—Robert Louis Stevenson’s wife.” Chase nodded contemplatively. “Did you know she was married and had children before she met Stevenson?” she asked. “Her first marriage was a rocky one, and when she divorced him, Stevenson pursued and married her. She became overly protective of him and was criticized by his friends for estranging him from them. His family didn’t like her at first but grew to accept her.”
“Why would you want to meet her?” he asked.
“Because she wasn’t this perfect person married to a famous writer. She was moody and critical of his work, always pushing him. Their marriage was far from ideal. They argued as any married couple would, but still she traveled the world with him looking for the perfect place to settle down that would be conducive to his poor health. She came here, built a home together, raised their children. He loved her as evident in the poem he wrote for her entitled
My Wife
. They took quiet walks together around their garden, and she cared for him when he was ill. It’s the small things that can make a difference, and in this case, he got to live fourteen more years of his life.”
The waiter returned with their food. Alana picked up her burger and took a big bite out of it and moaned. Chase dipped a fried shrimp in ketchup and popped it in his mouth.
“I met him,” he said, licking the pad of his thumb, his eyes on her.
“Who?”
“Robert Louis Stevenson.”
“What?” She dropped her mouth in awe.
“You might want to close that, Alana, before the flies go in and eat your food.”
She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed. “You met him?” she whispered in bewilderment. “When? Where?”
He smiled and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “In the Hawaiian Islands. For almost three years, he traveled throughout the Pacific before he settled in Samoa. He and I both had a mutual friend—King Kalakaua.”
Baffled, Alana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What was he like?” she asked curiously.
“He was a brilliant man. Complex. Intelligent. Gravely ill. A smoker.”
“So, were you one of the friends Fanny disapproved of?”
Chase grinned. “No, she liked me.”
Alana couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you…living this life, meeting people, witnessing the changes throughout the centuries. It’s unbelievable.”
“It’s definitely had its moments. Both high and low.”
Alana took another bite out of her burger, and Chase stole a few of her fries. They talked some more about his past—his favorite decade, extensive travels, his homes that were in the Tahitian mountains, Vietnamese coast, near the Gulf of Alaska, and the South Island of New Zealand. She asked him how he earned all his money, and he answered by investing in land and collecting priceless items throughout the years. He asked her what her most cherished memory was; she asked him about the single best decision he ever made in his life; he asked her what her favorite movie was and she said
Pearl Harbor
. Chase arched an eyebrow in response.
“What? I’m a sucker for historical romance and Ben Affleck,” she defended.
“That period of time was far from romantic, Alana,” he said dryly.
“Let me guess. You were there?”
“Yes, and it was an unpredictable, terrifying, and a gruesome war.”
Way to burst her movie bubble.
She asked him what his favorite place in the world was; he wanted to know what she looked forward to the most in life. Alana sat back and wiped her mouth with her fingers as she thought about his question.
“I have to think about this.”
Up to her graduation, she had always had that day to look forward to, to strive for. The apogee of all her hard work. Now what? What did she have to look forward to next? She panicked a little on the inside when she couldn’t think of anything tangible. Had her life become so routine that she didn’t know where to go next?
“I don’t know,” she finally said.
Chase smiled. “Don’t sweat it. It may come to you later.” He popped a shrimp in his mouth. “Best advice you ever got?” he continued.
Alana smiled. “Never wear purple eyeliner?” She answered with the first thing that popped in her head.
“Seriously.”
She paused. “Well, I don’t know if this is the
best
advice I’ve ever received but something about it has resonated with me—just don’t roll your eyes, okay?” She looked at Chase, he nodded encouragingly, and she continued. “It’s something my sister told me once. ‘Don’t look for the one. Become the one.’ I know, I know. It’s the most cliché of the cliché, but I’ve given it some thought, and I believe there’s truth to it.”
“And what’s that?”
“Well, if everyone just focused on other people’s qualities and faults and not their own, then there wouldn’t be any growth within us, right? So the traits I admire and want in my significant other, I need to concentrate on working and developing within myself at the same time.” She half shrugged, occupying herself with the rest of her food.
“And what traits might those be?” he asked.
“Well, I admire people who are honest, trustworthy, selfless.”
Chase nodded contemplatively. “I
have
noticed that you’re working on your honesty.”
Alana scrunched up her nose and gave him a face before he laughed. “So, tell me. Do healers hook up? Get married? Wait, are there even girl healers?”
He chuckled. “Yes, there are girl healers. Healers generally find companionship with each other, but very rarely with non-healers.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“Because it’s discouraged. For a mortal to get involved with a healer, it would upset a very precarious balance. The general public isn’t aware of our existence, except for the people we rescue and heal, but we usually find them in a daze that there is little if any memory of their experience.”
“Oh.” She breathed.
“The furthest healers are encouraged to go with humans is friendship alone.”
So that’s what she was. A definite friend. Why did that suddenly come across as disappointing? Alana’s head was spinning. “Are you in a relationship now?”
“Not at the present moment, no,” he answered as he picked up a fry and ate it.
That surely meant there had been someone in the past. Of course there must have been. He was four hundred years old and counting! She couldn’t expect someone in his shoes or with that face to remain single forever. Or celibate for that matter. Her face flushed at the thought, and she thanked the heavens he was busy looking down at his plate and didn’t notice. She wondered who she was and why it had ended. They ate in silence, Alana taking tentative sips of her drink, the breeze from the harbor cooling her hot cheeks. She needed to change the subject.
“Is there anything you fear?” she asked him. Chase furrowed his eyebrows at her question. She lowered her voice. “I mean, can you die? You’re immortal, but do you have a weakness? Can you get hurt?”
“We don’t bleed, if that’s what you mean. Our healing capabilities enable us to heal quickly on our own. In saying that, healers live by a certain code of laws. Break them or alter them and we pay the consequences. Live by them and the rewards are immense.”
His answer intrigued her, and Alana wanted to learn more, push for more, but Chase was already distracted by something on his plate. What laws were those? And what happened when one was broken? She mulled this over in her head as the waiter approached and took away their empty plates and cups. Chase leaned back in his chair, and they sat in silence for several heart beats. Alana bit the inside of her lip.
“So, who are you fighting?” she finally asked.
“Fighting?” He raised his brows.