Stranded in Paradise (8 page)

Sun glared down on her and she felt perspiration running down her neck. Her wrapped ankle throbbed. Gum was stuck tight as an eight
-
day clock. She could remove the shoe, but walking barefoot on the warm pavement didn't interest her—not when she had to shuffle anyway. She'd have to make it back to the car and get rid of the sandal.

With a goal fixed in mind, she limped down the concrete, trailing a long gooey slick of pink bubble gum on the hot pavement.

This vacation was going nowhere but to the dogs.

With her health care needs dealt with, Tess decided to walk to Beeg's gallery near the historical Baldwin Missionary Home. She crossed the street and stopped to gawk at the Banyon tree in the middle of a small park where craft vendors peddled their wares. The tree branches spread for blocks.

“Something, isn't it?” a voice said.

She turned to see a nicely dressed woman sitting on a bench, smiling at her
.
She wore her iron gray hair braided and looped in a coronet. Even sitting on a rustic bench, her posture and the way she held her head appeared almost queenly. Her eyes, blue as Hawaiian skies, were warm and alert, expressing a friendly interest. A native woven basket containing cut Plumeria and Birds of Paradise sat next to a shopping bag. Tess glanced at a loaf of fresh baked bread and a carton of milk in the shopping bag.

“The tree was planted by the sheriff of Maui in 1873 and is now the largest in the state,” the woman offered.

“It is amazing.” She turned back to study the tourist attraction. Where the tree's roots thickened, they formed a series of columns like tendons in the tree's neck to support the ever-lengthening branches.

“Ficus benghalensis,” the lady said in explanation. “The tree now stands nearly sixty feet tall and covers more than two-thirds of an acre.” Her timeless features softened as she stared up at the sun filtering lacey fingers through the branches. “One of God's many marvels.”

Tess smiled and moved on.
God's marvels.

She'd never thought of it that way.

Trekking by ocean-front stores, she spotted the Lopsided Easel half a block away. The small upstairs gallery looked inviting with its colorful array of watercolors decorating the window. She paused to read the list of artists represented there; of course Beeg as well as other talents like Don Jusko, Michael Krahan, and Jim Kingwell, who was noted for his watercolors of local scenes.

She entered the store, alive with color, space, and movement, and smiled at the pretty young Polynesian girl behind the counter. “Hi,” she said. “Tell Bee Gee her past has come back to haunt her.”

New York City.

Bee Gee had gone to the Mainland for an art showing and she'd be gone two weeks! She vaguely remembered Beeg saying something about New York. She wanted to pull her hair in sheer frustration. But she knew with the state her hair was in that it wouldn't be wise. The clerk at the gallery had given her the Marriott number where Beeg was staying, but what good would it do to call? Beeg was in New York and she was in Maui.

After she'd left the Lopsided Easel, she had aimlessly wandered the streets of Lahaina, trying to gain control of her emotions. A cacophony of tropical bird calls and Don Ho's voice blared from street corner vendors' stereos.

Now what? Should she book the next flight back to Denver or stay in Hawaii and force herself to enjoy her time off?

She needed aspirin.

Depressed, she drove back to the Mynah Nest. The foul odor of rotten eggs met her again. Well, Tess decided, the least she could do was find a nicer place to stay. She drove to the Pioneer Inn where the clerk assured her there were now open rooms.

When the clerk gave her the key to her room she smiled and made her way up. This room was markedly cleaner and smelled fresh. Still, Beeg was gone. She had no one to share her time with. She hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door and then did exactly what she promised herself she wouldn't: she called home to check her messages. She had a three o'clock dental appointment on Monday that she'd forgotten to cancel. The jewelry store had the broken locket fixed. She could pick it up anytime.

She downed two aspirins and went to bed.

5

In spite of the pending tropical storm which, according to the weather bureau, had just kicked up another notch, she was determined to start her vacation. The travel brochure she had picked up in the Pioneer Inn lobby claimed that there was nowhere on earth more beautiful to witness at sunrise than the summit of Mount Haleakala. Her ankle was stronger this morning so she rented a car, purchased a latte, and made the two-hour drive to the crater and the short hobble to the summit. As she watched, the blazing ball eased up over the dormant volcano crater radiant light gradually spreading until it infused the sky with brilliant golds and yellows. It was the most glorious thing she had ever seen. On her drive home, she was still affected by it, almost as if it were a religious experience, as if she'd somehow seen a bit of God in that sunrise.

She knew she was far from spiritual. She thought about the times her grandmother had taken her to Mass when she was a child. It held the same sense of reverence and hushed awe. Mom, of course, didn't like priests, or the church.

“Religion gives outgoing folks something to do on Sunday mornings. But really—God? You're smarter than that, Tess.”

“But Mom,” Tess had said. “The nice woman in the black robe and funny-looking thing on her head—that ‘Sister'— she says there is a God, and that He loves little children.”

“And there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!”

Tess hadn't known what to think. She'd wanted to believe in a God who cared about her, but as she'd grown older she'd seen too little of such kindness, especially with people like Len Connor. She felt more and more certain that her mother was right.

As Tess drove into Maui she felt as though she was marooned on the moon.

Restless now, she decided to ignore her smarting ankle and do
something.
Food. She needed a decent meal to put events in perspective, to put her life into perspective. When she asked where she could find a good meal, the concierge suggested a luau—the Old Lahaina Luau located within easy walking distance of Pioneer Inn. She had been thinking more along the lines of swordfish and salad at the grill below the hotel, but maybe a little entertainment would jumpstart the vacation mode.

Returning upstairs, she dressed in a pair of white walking shorts and a butter-yellow T-shirt and pulled her hair atop her head and stuffed it into her hat. Slipping on a pair of sandals, which looked awful with the injured ankle wrapped, she went back downstairs and exited the hotel.

The air outside was scented with tuberose and jasmine—or so she tried to imagine—after all this was “paradise.” Actually the scent of hamburger from that cheeseburger joint a couple blocks away accompanied her as she took her time walking to the luau. Gusty winds had slackened to a nice breeze though the evening was slightly overcast.

The luau grounds were typical native Hawaiian. Palm trees, grass huts, and steel guitars blended to create an authentic setting. A handsome Polynesian young man wearing a brightly flowered
tupenu
smiled as he looped an orchid lei over her head. Her mood lightened as she accepted a glass of fruit punch with a fresh orchid floating in it. Demonstrations of lei making, coconut cutting, and Ti leaf shirt weaving lined the walkways. She wandered the grounds, sipping her drink.

After posing for the required souvenir picture with said Polynesian hunk, Tess was directed to her seat. As she approached her chair, she did a quick double take. Sitting at the same table, binoculars lifted as he studied the bobbing boats in the harbor, sat none other than Carter McConnell. When he lifted his eyes and saw her, disbelief crossed his face. She set her drink on the table and sat down. “Now who's stalking whom?”

“Nice to see you again, too.”

She glanced at the binoculars as he held them aloft. “Thirty-nine fifty. Hilo Hattie's,” he said in explanation. “Want to look?” He held them up for her.

“No,” she said as a gust of wind lifted her hat. She quickly pulled it back down, shoving it tightly onto her head.

A pair of lovely Polynesian girls came by, grass skirts rustling. “Would you two like a hula lesson?”

She looked over at Carter's face
,
which had turned a dark shade of pink. “Uh,” he stammered. “No thanks.” One of the girls wiggled her hips and made a waving motion in front of herself with her arms. “It's not hard,” she encouraged. “I bet your wife would love to get a picture of you doing it.”

Now it was her turn to blush. She felt the heat rise up her cheeks.

The second girl pulled Carter to his feet and positioned his hands in front of him, showing him the foot movement.

“This is the Ami'ami,” she explained. “Now move your hips back and forth.” Carter jerked around like a marionette on a string. “No, it's a smaller movement, a little jiggle like this.” She demonstrated. Tess swallowed back her amusement as he let the girls make a fool of out him.

When Carter spotted Tess's growing jollity, he leaned over and said something to one of the women. Smiling, they hula-ed over, hips gyrating wildly as they drew a protesting Tess into the act.

“My ankle,” she objected
.

Carter grinned.
“
If you can walk on it, you can dance. Come on, give it a try.”

The women positioned her next to Carter, draped a grass shirt around her trim hips, and showed her the proper movements. At first she felt conspicuous, but soon she was gyrating along with the others. The four
Akalewa
swayed their hips from side to side, in a graceful interpretation of the native art,
Ha'a.
Tess figured the hand movements were beyond her, but she could swing a grass skirt with the best of them.

“A new talent to wow the homefolks,” Carter said.

“I can just imagine doing this at a board meeting.” She laughed and tried to mimic the hand movements, which looked easy and graceful, but somehow didn't translate well when she tried them.

”Just what a flight controller needs: hula proficiency.” He exaggerated a gyration. “I'll add it to my resume.”

The crowd watched, laughing at the playful antics. Before Tess realized it she was actually having fun.

By the time they made their way back to the table she was glad for the reprieve. “I haven't moved like that since my last junior high dance,” Carter said.

“What about senior high?” she teased.

“I gave up dancing.” There was a twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't noticed before. “What about you?” he said.

“I did the ballet thing for a while. At least until my ballet teacher told me to take up football. I never caught on.” They shared a chuckle.

“It looks like they're pulling the pig out of the pit,” Carter said. “Want to go watch?”

They stood side by side as the animal with the apple in its mouth was lifted onto the main serving table.