Newbie (25 page)

“What did you say?”

“I never think about her.”

“Before that.”

“The phone went dead. I was trying to explain. I was telling you I hadn’t thought about her in years when I noticed the call had dropped. I tried calling you back, but it went straight to voice mail. Sophie, I’m not interested in her at all, I promise you. The one time you met her, you met the real her.”

“The call dropped?”

Liam nods and I ask, “You didn’t hear anything else after I asked if you were going to tell me about her?”

“No.”

The smallest gleam of hope splits my darkness, but it feels like happiness carved with a knife’s edge. I reach my hand across the space, my fingers just touching the top of his. “Why was she at your house?” I can’t look at him.

“Paul couldn’t come with Elise so Meg volunteered to come and help her with the boys. I’m sure she had other motives though, she always does.”

“I thought … Well, I thought you were sleeping together.” My eyes finally meet his.

Liam slides across the distance between us. His expression is sincere and tentative as he takes my hand in both of his. “She meant for you to, Sophie. Everything she says is sort of true, but always twisted in a way to serve her.”

Tears rim my eyes as relief swells in me. “I’m sorry you had to come here. I should have listened, or I should have talked to you before I left.” Or anytime since then.

“I’m glad I came.” He kisses my temple. “I’ll have one less day to miss you.” His hand cups my jaw as his thumb caresses my cheek. Then he kisses my opposite cheek and whispers close to my ear, “Sophie, I love you. Just you.” Then he kisses my jaw repeating, “I love you.” He pulls me into a tight hug and kisses my lips.

I tip my face up, looking into his eyes. They’re smoldering and intense. “I love you, Liam.” He kisses me, or I kiss him, or we’re taking turns. Make up kisses are even better than good-bye ones.

“I found a room. It’s quite a ways from here, and I doubt it’s this nice, but I think I’d better go check in before they give it away. Maybe we can have breakfast or lunch with your mom tomorrow.” He looks at his watch. “Or today, rather. I haven’t met her yet. I have a day to stay so we could go to the beach or hiking or catch a luau. My flight back to the mainland isn’t until just before noon the following morning.”

His face finally moves into a smile. “I didn’t have luggage—just this backpack. So I was frisked and searched at every checkpoint. I guess I have that to look forward to on the return trip too. After all, it’s kind of suspicious—who goes to Hawaii on Christmas Break with one change of clothes and swimming trunks?”

“And no surfboard.” I chuckle. Oh, that feels good.

“Exactly.”

“Breakfast.” Then we’ll have the day together. “Will you come for breakfast at about nine?”

“I’ll be here,” he promises, kisses me again, then leaves.

He loves me. I love him. We said it, and it shifts my world.

I
had visions of a garage sale, but it’s more like a mall with no roof or walls. The shops are laid out in concentric circles around the Aloha Stadium parking lot. We decide to start in the middle and work our way out.

Mom makes the first purchase—little carvings of animals from mango wood. Liam is next, purchasing leis, draping the first around Mom’s neck and kissing her cheek. “Aloha.” Then he slips one around my neck and repositions my hair, then he kisses my lips. “Aloha au la ‘oe.” The words are breathy along my cheekbone.

Maybe the best purchase of the day is when Liam finds a wheeled carry-on. He wants to avoid a repeat of all the friendly and very personal contact he had with the Transportation Security Agents on the trip out. That’s really the tipping point for shopping fun as we search for unique things to fill it, since we’re pretty sure an empty suitcase would raise just as much suspicion as the backpack did.

We stop at a shrimp truck for lunch and hit the booths again. For an afternoon break, we order shaved ice served in a hollowed-out pineapple. First, ice cream is scooped in and the whole thing is topped with a mountain of pillowy-soft shaved ice. Pineapple syrup is drizzled over the shaved ice, then it’s sprinkled with azuki beans. Okay, my initial thought was to skip the beans, but the girl I stood next to when ordering suggested I get them for the “real” experience. I figured I could flick them off if they’re disgusting.

I flick.

The shop next door has clothing. Who can come to Hawaii and not go home with a floral print shirt? Liam is helping Mom choose one for her friend Bill when I wander off. I’m debating the virtues of a blue button-down with white and yellow plumeria flowers versus a simple pink T-shirt with O’ahu written on it in floral font, when I see intimate apparel on a shelf near the back.

There are floral-patterned bras and panties. Even on the coldest days of winter, I could wear those and think about my vacation. I would be lucky to wear the button-up once a year, the T-shirt a bit more, and the sari next to never. I sneak away from Liam and Mom to make my purchase. I go ahead and buy the sari as well as an excuse for having the shopping bag like, “Oh, I bought a sari. It will make a great beach cover up.” Good diversion.

Liam’s luggage purchase seems brilliant. We push all our bags into the suitcase and zip it up, and Liam drags it around. At three o’clock, the whole thing folds up for another week.

On the way back to the hotel, we make plans to go swimming in the resort pools and try out the water slide. As we get ready, Mom excuses herself, saying she doesn’t know if she is tired from all the walking today or if she’s having a hard time adjusting to the time change or if it’s here age, but she is going to stay in and watch TV or read a book then go to bed early. Do you know how you can tell when a first-grader is lying? They give way too much information and won’t look you in the eye. Apparently mothers do too.

I whisper, “Thanks, Mom.”

After dinner, Liam and I take a walk on the beach.

“Let’s watch,” Liam says, guiding me along a flagstone path away from the resort.

The surf isn’t exceptionally high, but plenty of surfers are enjoying it. The water is clear, light and dark blue with frothy whitecaps riding into shore. There isn’t much room between the path and the rocky border of the ocean where Liam pulls me in front of him to sit, laying against his chest as he leans against a towering palm conveniently planted by the path. The wind blows with the sweet smells of a floral shop, but there’s a background hit of stink, probably from the water. I try not to imagine that it comes from eons of fish pee concentrated in the ocean.

Stop—I’m on a beach with Liam’s arms around me. His arms. His chest. That’s much better to think about. I brush my fingers down his arms as they circle me, and lay them over his hands.

A surfer stands on his board, then twists and bounces along the wave. As the water flattens out, he pivots his board back toward the open ocean and begins to swim back out. Several others fall early and some make it further, but they all ditch into the water before they reach the rocky shore. Much farther off shore, someone on a Jet Ski is towing surfers to waves they can ride, then picks them up and takes them out again.

The waves lap a gentle rhythmic swish against the rocks. Little sprays of water jet up between the rocks with each wave. Now and again, a white bird flits between the trees. We watch in silence for a moment until Liam begins kissing my neck. Mm, it was brilliant to pull my hair into a ponytail for swimming—or this. His warm breath sends chills rippling through me. I drop my head to the side a bit to encourage him to continue. His arms tighten around my waist and I’m definitely not watching the surfers anymore.

“We’re not the only couple talking on the beach tonight.” Liam points farther down the path to where a sandy horseshoe strip of beach widens and a gray-haired couple is cuddling. Soon they stand and begin folding their blanket. The husband leans over and pecks his wife on the cheek—they’re so cute! The man holds his wife’s waist as they begin to walk back to the resort, moving together slowly. Then his hand drops to his wife’s behind and she lays her head on his shoulder. Whoa—get a room. Oh, exactly.

I giggle and turn toward Liam. He smiles, his eyes gleaming. Can he see us growing old together? I wonder what’s going through his thoughts and smile softly in return. “Is that what we look like?” I ask.

“Maybe in thirty years or so.”

“In thirty years? You would still play soccer, but in slow motion, and I’d whistle at you when you shuffle by.”

“Do we have children?” Liam asks as he raises my hand and begins tracing along the lines in my palm. Then he lifts it to his lips.

“Yes, and grandchildren. They play soccer too.” This sounds so serious and I say, “You know, maybe. Someday.” Someday. My stomach sparkles, and I feel like snuggling in tighter. My voice is just a whisper. “Thirty years.”

“I don’t see it.” But before my happy-bubble pops he adds, “I can’t imagine you looking any different than you do right now. To me, you probably always will.”

As the sky darkens, so does the water, now gray, blue, and turquoise. It ripples toward the shore as if it were silk blown by a fan. The clouds flame brilliant yellow and florescent gold as the sun sinks into the ocean while we walk back. Before we reenter the resort, Liam points to the thin windbreak of trees beside the path.

“There’s a legend that if you stand in the shadows of the ironwood trees in a full moon, the trees will tell you the future.”

I tighten my arm around Liam’s waist and he hugs mine in return. If I’m lucky, gray-haired couples on the beach do, too.

Liam left for the airport after breakfast, so Mom and I go to the market district in Waimea. We mostly just look—after our day at the stadium yesterday, there is little left to tempt us. But it’s enjoyable to walk and talk and wander with nowhere we have be. After lunch, we have appointments at the hotel’s spa. The warm scent of coconut milk from my footbath mingles with the scents of flowers and ocean. I wonder how long you have to be in Hawaii before you no longer notice the air is always fragranced.

The massage therapist has moved from the top of my head and is now massaging my lower head and neck. This is sooo good. I no longer desire to open my eyes, and now and again I stop thinking in words as colors float and whirl behind my eyelids. Her thumbs push and smooth the muscles of my shoulders in easy rhythm; push and smooth, push and smoo. . .

Crap! I sit bolt upright. My underwear. We left our shopping bags in Liam’s suitcase to take back for us, including my cute plumeria-print underwear. Take a breath—it’s okay. He probably won’t unpack. He’s going straight to Vail to be with his family … unless he uses that suitcase. Of course he will—it would save time not having to find another one.

“Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” The masseuse’s hands stop momentarily.

“No. Not at all. I’m fine.” I’m an idiot. “Really. Fine.” Chagrin is apparent in my voice. It’s just underwear—not a big deal. He has a sister—it’s probably nothing to him (probably). Just forget it. But I can’t and don’t. It feels so personal. The rest of the massage and pedicure doesn’t blunt the edge of embarrassment I imagine I’ll have when I retrieve my shopping bags from Liam.