Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 (28 page)
Read Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 Online
Authors: Cathryn Cade
Then a sibilant rattle, and Melia gasped as Daniel Ho’omalu, the horn blower and another young man, all in the blue-and-sand hues, danced into view with slow, rhythmic movements, flowing forward and then receding—like waves, she realized. The ocean had arrived.
Spying Malu and his followers, the “waves” moved faster, shaking the huge gourds they held and slapping them rhythmically in their hands. Daniel was a fearsome sight, with the barbaric beauty of the tattoos down the side of his face and body exposed by his brief costume.
Kanaloa’s sea faced off with Pele’s fire, as with a great clashing of sticks, Malu turned to face his brother, while the forest circled them, swaying gracefully. Lava and waves danced toward each other, then circled, dueling with their instruments and their fierce, beautiful movements until all of them flung themselves onto their knees and reared back on their haunches, instruments high in a long rattle of sticks, gourds and the drums. The lava flowing into the sea and being consumed.
It was a spectacle Melia knew she would never forget.
When it ended, the dancers sank to their knees, facing their audience, who applauded uproariously. Malu flashed a smile and then rose with a swift surge, holding up his arms for quiet.
He looked around at all of them. “First,
mahalo
,
Ho’omalu
ohana,
for carrying me through my last ordeal. I dance in thanksgiving to you. Your chanting made me strong and healed me. Aloha.”
Hand on his heart, he bowed deeply, to the audience and then to the other dancers. Then he straightened, turning back toward Melia, his eyes on her. Her heart stumbled and began to pound at what she saw there.
“But I was not alone in that fight. At my side was a brave wahine with a true heart, with true aloha. To save me, she followed me into Pele’s fire.”
While the dancers, including his brother and the rest of the family watched, Malu walked toward Melia, strong and proud and graceful, and dropped to one knee before her, holding out his hand.
“Melia, our Creator’s hand brought you to my island and to me. Pele gave us both the gift of new life. I ask you now to stay with me and share it always. Will you marry me?”
Joy and shock whirling inside her, Melia held out her hand, putting it in his, hot and strong and sure.
“Oh, Malu,” she whispered. “Yes.”
How could a woman possibly refuse words like those? It was the most romantic proposal she could ever have dreamt. Tears flooded her eyes and spilled over as he picked her up high in his arms and whirled her around, beaming at her. She threw her arms around his neck and hung on, her face against his. He was trembling against her, or maybe she was the one shaking.
“Au’e,” sighed his mother tearfully. “A bride for our son.”
Dancers and all erupted into applause as Malu held Melia close and kissed her.
Dinner, even kalua pork and a huge luau spread, was anticlimactic, as far as Melia was concerned. She sat beside Malu at one of the long tables on the lanai, surrounded by chatter and laughter and the curious, laughing glances of his family. She ate because he watched to see that she did, but she had no appetite. She felt as if she were in a dream.
“So, Melia, of course we hope you will be married here,” Tina said. “But you and your parents must choose the date and the place and let us know. If you want to be married on the mainland, we will have big luau here in your honor when you return. When are you thinking, in the fall?”
“We can’t wait that long,” Malu said. He was once again clad in shorts and a tropical shirt of beautifully draped silk, this one red with sand-hued leaves.
His mother frowned at him. “David, the bride and her ohana should decide this.”
He reached over and took Melia’s hand. “Mama, we can’t wait too long,” he repeated.
The tables went quiet, all the chatter dying away as everyone turned to look. Melia’s face burned, and even Malu’s cheeks were stained red, although he was beaming like a fool.
“A keiki,” one of the men roared. Then the lawn echoed with hearty shouts of laughter and exclamations of excitement. His brother clapped him on the shoulder, and Tina Ho’omalu’s eyes widened. She leaned over to take Melia’s hand.
“Oh, my dear,” she said. “A keiki? A grandchild, Homu, do you hear?”
“I hear.” Homu reached over to shake his son’s hand and smiled at Melia. “Now you are truly a Ho’omalu, yeah?”
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears again.
“Ah, she cries over everything,” Malu teased, but he reached over to wipe the tears from her cheek with his thumb, smiling at her.
“It’s the hormones,” his mother scolded him. “A new mother has great emotion.”
“It’s being saddled with you,” Daniel said to Malu. “I cried when you were born, but they insisted on keeping you.”
Malu elbowed him in the side, but then they clasped hands, Daniel’s face creasing in a rare smile.
“
Ho’omaika’i
,
kaikaina
,” he said. “Congratulations, brother. You'll be a good father.”
As the sun set in peach-and-saffron splendor, the Ho’omalu men joined each other on the outer edge of the upper lanai.
Malu’s grandfather, stooped with age, shook his head. “I don’t envy you, my
mo’opuna kāne—
my grandsons, with the problems Hawaii faces. In my day, we had fewer of these foul drugs. Even you, Homu and Hilo, did not face such
lā’au ‘ino
.”
His sons and grandsons nodded grimly as they looked down over the mountain. In Kona town below, lights were beginning to twinkle on, and beyond, the sea gleamed silver in the dusk.
“There will always be problems for our island,
Kupuna Kāne
,” David said. “But we Ho’omalus will always be here, watching over her.”
Daniel stood by his side, shoulder to shoulder.
“Those problems will be back very soon,” he predicted, striking his fist against his hard abdomen. “I can feel it here in my gut,
maka’u na’au
.”
His grandfather turned to him. “Perhaps soon it will be your time to join the battle,” he said. “I know you are angry that David faced danger without you.”
Daniel bared his teeth in a fierce smile. “Next time, I’ll be waiting,” he rumbled. “Like Ukanipo, the shark god, I’ll strike before they even see me coming.”
From the doorway of the big house, Melia watched the group of men with admiration and awe. From the outside, she realized, even other Hawaiians saw a big, tightly knit family, prosperous and happy, who lived
‘olu’olu in big houses, and who cared fiercely about their traditions and the well-being of their island.
She was one of the few people on the island, and on the earth, who knew that the Ho’omalus were much, much more.
And now she was one of them, in a way. She still wasn’t sure what the future held for her and Malu. They’d known each other only a week, after all. She knew that, as swiftly and unbelievably as it had happened, she loved him, and he loved her. They still had so much to learn about each other, which was supposed to happen before they got pregnant and married, but it seemed, in their case, things would happen on Pele’s time, not their own.
But if there was one thing Melia had realized, it was this—a woman could trust her heart and soul to a man like David Ho’omalu. After all, she’d watched him give his own life for others. Easy-going and calm, he’d kept the knowledge to himself, but she realized now that Malu had to have known that he might die on that heiau, or at least be horribly wounded. And even though Pele had healed him, he’d still gone willingly through the agony of multiple gunshot wounds and falling into the volcano’s terrible fire.
But to preserve the secrecy of the Ho’omalus and to make sure the drugs were truly destroyed, he’d kept everyone else away. He hadn’t reckoned on her trying to save him, had thought she and Keone were well out of the firefight.
He’d sworn he would never again allow her anywhere near trouble. Melia was sure he’d try, and most of the time, she’d let him have his way. But not all the time, because that just wasn’t good for any man, even a hero.
November 27, Kona Old Town
Melia shifted in her chair, comfortably lazy in the sunshine. Stretching her feet out before her, she tilted her big straw hat to shade her face from the sun and smoothed her other hand over her belly, round and taut under her ocean-blue silk sundress. Around her, tourists chatted and ate at their tables on the café lanai while crowds strolled along the sidewalk a few feet away. Behind her, the café stretched into a row of galleries and shops.
She looked down, smiling as the baby moved. As she stroked her belly, she admired the huge ruby on her finger. It sparkled in the sun, along with the diamonds that surrounded it, sending tiny rainbows of light shivering on the tall glass of herb tea at her elbow. “Pele’s Fire”, Malu had named the ring. He’d designed it himself with the help of a local jeweler. Of course Melia had final approval, but she wouldn’t change a thing. Every time she looked at it, she was reminded of his love and of the island’s patroness, watching over them.
“Melia?” The incredulous male voice brought her out of her contented relaxation. She looked up and blinked at the handsome, sunburned man staring at her from the sidewalk, his mouth hanging open slightly.
“Grant.” Her former boyfriend carried a shopping bag and a buxom brunette hanging on his other arm. She looked familiar. Of course the last time Melia had seen her, she’d been naked. “Here on vacation?” Melia asked politely.
“Uh—yeah,” Grant said. “But what are you doing here?”
She smiled at him, enjoying the moment. “I live here now.” When she’d gone home to pack up her things and say good-bye to her coworkers at Greenwood, she’d realized from their avid expressions everyone had heard about Grant’s new girlfriend. They’d been shocked to hear that Melia not only was not heartbroken, but that she was marrying someone else and moving to Hawaii. She was surprised no one had gotten on the phone to make sure Grant knew.
“Oh, cooking at one of the resorts?” he asked, relaxing into a patronizing smile.
“No. I only cook for my family and friends these days,” she said. “Of course, I’m still a professional too. You may have heard my blog won a national award last month for best new cooking blog.”
She could see by the veiled look in his eyes he had indeed heard. Then his gaze dropped to her belly, and widened. “Ah—you’re—you’re—” He broke off inarticulately, his face red.
“Pregnant?” she asked. “Yes, I am. It’s his.”
She indicated Malu, who had emerged from the gallery next to the restaurant and stood behind her chair, his large, warm hand on her shoulder. She could see from the look on Grant’s face that her husband’s expression was probably not warm and friendly.
“My husband, David Ho’omalu,” she said. Grant stepped back, towing his brunette who looked, predictably, slightly stunned. Melia merely smiled, used to the effect her husband had on women, and to his complete lack of interest. She’d had time now to accept the fact that he was crazy about her and her alone.
“Yeah. Nice to see you, Melia,” Grant mumbled. “Bye.” He strode off, the brunette trotting to keep up.
“Have a nice vacation, you two,” Melia called after them. And she meant it. Grant hadn’t chosen the best way to break up with her, but he wasn’t the scum she’d thought him at first, either. She simply hadn’t been the right woman for him, any more than he’d been the right man for her.
Her husband helped her out of her chair, a proprietary arm around her as they walked along the boardwalk in front of the shops.
“Some old friends? You forgot to introduce me,” he said.
She shrugged. “No one you’d want to know,
kāne nohea
.”
He smiled back at her. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, pua.”
She blinked, saying the words to herself again, and then narrowed her eyes at him. “I called you my handsome husband. That is not dirty talk.”
He looked disappointed. “Oh. I thought you said…” He leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“David!” Her eyes widened in shock. He laughed, giving her a hug before urging her on along the sidewalk.
“Come on, pua, let’s go home and I’ll teach you some more.”
She could hardly wait.
About the Author
Cathryn Cade lives in the Pacific Northwest with her tall, handsome husband and a golden retriever named Buddy. She loves to read and write romance, cook with fresh seafood and take long trips to Hawaii. She has been writing romance since she can remember, and is thrilled that she can now include her favorite islands in her stories.
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