New Honey in Town

by Cathryn Cade

  "You own your own business," Daniel said. "That's good. This partner, he Hawaiian?"

  Moke nearly choked on a mouthful of beer. He managed to swallow, and grinned at the thought of his outsize partner and friend, with his wild ginger hair and beard, and freckled skin. "Nope, T-Bear's 'bout as Caucasian as you get. But we're brothers, in every way that counts."

  "Build your own kind of family there, yeah?"

  "Yeah. Solid, too. Twenty-odd brothers, and their women and kids."

  "I knew it," Daniel said, his eyes narrowed. "You're a biker, right?"

  "Yeah," Moke said, lowering his bottle after a last drink. "How'd you know?"

  Daniel got up and grabbed him another beer from the cooler. He handed it over with a satisfied look. "The way you handled yourself with those two squatters today. You were ready for any kine trouble, like no matter what those two came up with, you'd deal. And you'd win."

  David winked behind his brother's back. "Also, Lele may have shown us some pictures of you on her phone. You and your brahs on bikes."

  "Instagram," Daniel admitted. "Some of your brahs' wahines like it a lot. They put pictures of you on there. Our wahines like it too, so they saw you...and there you go."

  Moke shook his head. Good thing he wasn't hiding out from anyone. Hard to stay anonymous with phone cameras in every hand. The Flyers’ old ladies were always snapping photos and video.

  "Yeah, I like that shot of you all bad-ass on your bike with shades and black leathers," David said, his eyes twinkling madly. "My wahine would love it if I got some leathers, but... too hot for da islands, you know?"

  "Fuck off," Moke advised and took another drink of beer.

  The brothers laughed, and David's little boy chose that moment to let out a babble of delight, flinging sand out in a spray from his chubby little hands. The three men looked to him, and Isaac grinned at them, revealing a few tiny, pearly teeth.

  "You rascal," Daniel said, making a horrible face at his nephew. "You get sand in my beer, you in big trouble."

  Isaac didn't look too worried. He giggled, and Moke had to chuckle. Hard to resist a happy baby.

  "Ugly as you Ho'omalu are, you make cute babies," he said.

  "Dat's because we marry gorgeous wahines," David said. "Our keikis get their looks—and their brains."

  "What'd your kids get from you?"

  "Our sweet, gentle personalities," Daniel said. "Right, Isaac?"

  The toddler scrunched up his face and shook his head. "Nah-na!"

  "You're right," Moke said. "He's one smart keiki."

  Soon after, they were joined by the brothers' wives, who were indeed fine looking. Daniel's tall, blonde wife Claire was also very pregnant, and grouchy, which Moke got 'cause he'd be pissy too, if he had to pack a belly that size around with him, especially in this humid heat.

  She set a toddler about the same size as Isaac, although with darker hair, on his feet beside Daniel, and rubbed the small of her back. Daniel frowned up at her, one big hand steadying his little boy, who clutched his papa's braids for support. "You should've hollered, I would have carried Matthew."

  "He's not the heavy one," she grumbled, her other hand supporting her belly. "I swear this baby is going to be born the size of a ten-year-old."

  Then she grinned at Moke. "Sorry, I could at least say hello before I start bitching, right? I'm Claire, and you must be Moke. Welcome to Nawea."

  "I am. Good to be here."

  Without ceremony, Claire dropped her blue pareo on a chair, revealing a bikini, and walked straight into the water, dragging a float ring with her. She lay back with a huff of relief, her tanned belly rising from the water like a balloon. "I can still hear you and talk," she called. "But now I can do it in comfort. I may stay in here until this baby is born."

  David's wife Melia had light brown hair, a crop of freckles and a friendly smile. She handed off the sleeping baby in her arms to her husband, and sat in the lounger nearest him, smoothing down her red and white flowered pareo over her knees. "It's great to meet you, Moke," she said. "How long are you here?"

  Moke jigged his knee. "Don't know exactly. Got some family business to take care of."

  She nodded. "Well, I'm glad you could be here this evening, since we're all leaving tomorrow morning."

  "The voyage of the Ho'omalus," Claire said. "A production nearly as complex as the first voyages here from Tahiti."

  David smiled down at the baby in his arms. "We do seem to need a lot of supplies these days, just to island hop. And most of it is for you keikis."

  "That's 'cause they mess up their clothes five times a day," Daniel proclaimed, gathering his son and nephew in one big arm. "You two are a lotta trouble."

  "Da!" said one little boy. "Ba-dah!" the other agreed.

  "You got cute kids," Moke said to Melia, because he knew women loved to hear that. And they were cute, wriggling out of Daniel's lax grip to crawl over his and David's legs, babbling away to each other.

  She beamed. "They are pretty adorable, huh?"

  "You need to find a sweet wahine and settle down," David said to Moke. "Then you can have some of these."

  Moke reared back, holding up one hand. "No, no. That's okay for you guys, but me... no."

  He might want a woman of his own, one of these days, but kids? Hell no. He liked to be quiet, not in the thick of things with kids depending on him, demanding his attention every minute.

  Anyway, the men in his family didn't do fatherhood well. One of his earliest memories was of being out fishing with his pop, of Timo throwing up his hands in exasperation and saying. 'Why you gotta ask so many questions, boy? I can't even think straight—and I sure as hell can't fish.'

  At that moment, one of the toddlers staggered near Moke and did a dive face-first toward the sand. Moke dropped his empty beer bottle and scooped the little guy up. "Whoa," he said, making a funny face to distract the kid hanging wide-eyed in his big hands. "Yeah, you okay."

  The toddler laughed and reached for Moke. Moke brought him nearer, and one chubby little hand smacked Moke on the lip. Moke grimaced and turned his head to spit out sand, making everyone laugh.

  "See, you a natural," David said.

  Melia reached for her son, and Moke handed the little guy over. "If you want to stay single, be careful here," she teased Moke as she wiped off her son's hands with the hem of her pareo. "Nawea Bay has a way of working Pele's magic on you."

  "That's for sure," David agreed. "Both of us, and our cousins met our mates here."

  An odd chill ran down the back of Moke's neck. Not that he was honestly gonna worry about some kind of match-making mojo around here, but still...whoa. That was a lotta bangin' by the bay. He might take home some coffee, maybe some mac nuts—but a woman? Hell no!

  Clare rubbed her round belly. "And the next thing a girl knows, she's knocked up and barefoot in the kitchen."

  Daniel tried to look guilty and failed. David and Moke shared an amused look.

  "Well, it's almost sunset," Melia announced. "Time for supper."

  Moke rose. "Put me to work." He could haul stuff as well as anyone.

  "Thank you," Claire called. "That means I can sit and watch the babies while you all haul stuff down here. I owe you one, island boy."

  He grinned at her. "Nah, least I can do, since you folks are feeding me."

  He followed the others up to the house and into the big kitchen, which was now full of mouth-watering smells.

  "We're having pulled pork made the lazy way, in the multi-cooker," Melia announced. "David, you take that. Daniel, if you'll take the tray with the salads, and Moke, you can bring the pasta bake, and the little cooler. I'll bring the bread and the condiments."

  With the ease of what was clearly long custom, supper was served under the palms. Daniel and David each ate with a toddler on their laps, feeding them small bites of food off their plates while consuming large amounts themselves.

  Moke did his part too—the food was the best he'd had since he arrived
. The pork melted in his mouth, the coleslaw was crunchy and studded with fresh pineapple, the rice warm and savory, and the bread so good he nearly groaned aloud. "This is amazing."

  Melia flushed with pleasure. "Mahalo. I used to be a chef."

  "You still are," David reminded her. "Your blog got what, a hundred thousand hits last month?"

  "That was this pineapple coleslaw," Claire said, nodding. "Ninety-five thousand views. Almost as big as your beach picnic spread."

  Talk turned to the eruptions of Kilauea volcano, up on the south-east side of the island.

  "Lost an entire sub-division over there," David said.

  "They shouldn't have built there in the first place," Daniel put in, scowling. "Right on the fault lines, what'd they expect?"

  "We're all optimists, living here," David put in peaceably. "Hoping for the best. Hadn't been activity there in many years. They even built the energy plant up there."

  "Yeah, and barely got their stored fuel out before the place burned down."

  "Well, one thing is for certain, the tourists are getting their money's worth, right?" Claire put in. "It gives me chills and thrills to see the live flow from the helicopter. And one of the tour boats got too close—the passengers were hit by flying hot rock!"

  Melia nodded. "Definitely reminds us we're living on islands created by Pele's fire."

  "You get any laze over here on this side?" Moke asked. The toxic cloud of volcanic fog was one of the by-products of an eruption. The trade winds could blow it farther onto land.

  Daniel shook his head. "Not down here, no worries. Nawea's protected. Not too sure about Paleo town, though. They're far enough south-east, might get some."

  "Daniel said you had to run off some squatters from your dad's property," Claire said to Moke. "I hope they didn't steal anything. Your dad's out fishing, right?"

  Moke's mood darkened. "Not much to steal, so no." What he wanted, what he'd come for, no one could steal outright.

  "We've had some problems down here too," David said. "Trash and mess." He jerked his head toward the northern end of the little bay.

  "These squatters are so clueless," Claire said, stabbing at her coleslaw with her fork. "Do they think reality is suspended here, or what?

  Moke nodded grimly. He understood the urges behind the squatters arrival on this island paradise, and the living loose and free. The stealing, and the trashing others' property? Hell no. Both were inexcusable.

  "Hey, where you staying?" Daniel asked Moke.

  "Motel in Kona," Moke said. A place to lie down at night. It was right on a main road, so it was noisy, and the air conditioning didn't work right, so it was hot. But he wasn't planning to be here long. "Thought I might buy some cheap gear and camp up at the place, but..." he grimaced. It was too damned dirty.

  David and Daniel exchanged a look. David nodded, and Daniel looked to Moke again. "How 'bout you stay here, house sit while we're on Maui for the art festival?"

  Claire and Melia looked at Moke too.

  With four expectant gazes on him, he tensed warily.

  "Please say yes." Melia tipped her head and gave him a look he recognized all too well. It was the way his Flyer brothers' women looked at their men when they wanted something...and from what he'd seen they usually got it. Made him want to back away, hands up.

  "Yeah, it's quiet, and you can swim, snorkel, just hang out," Claire coaxed, giving him an identical look. "The fridge is full of food. You'd be doing us a really big favor."

  Moke started to sweat. "Uh, I dunno. I been gone a long time, practically a stranger now. How you know you can trust me to take care of the place?"

  David and Daniel gave him looks of disbelief, then both started to speak. Daniel over-rode his little brother with his deep, rough voice. "You kidding, or what? We've known you most of your life. I remember you walking six miles to return Auntie Meme's purse she dropped at the grocery store. And how you looked out for your pop when he was—under the weather."

  David nodded. "So enough of that talk, you big kanaka. You got other plans, just say."

  Heat rolled up under Moke's cheeks. He shook his head. "No other plans. Sure, I can watch the place for you."

  "And, if you're going to be around for a while," David said. "Got a motorcycle in the back of our garage. Honda VTX1300—nice big bike, but don’t know what's wrong with it. Just has a death wobble, you know? Vibration. Either need to get it running right or get rid of it."

  "I'll take a look at it for you," Moke said. "I've worked on Hondas before. Might be the steering head bearings, real touchy. That’s a heavy bike, big motor. Not too much for you?"

  "Nah," David said, grinning. "I’m a big kanaka. Tell you, though. You get it running, feel free to ride it while you're here."

  "And maybe you could slip it in your bag and take it home with you, because I don't want David on it," Melia said. "Those things are so dangerous."

  David and Daniel both looked to Moke, their eyes twinkling. He wisely chose not to argue with his hostess, or mention how much of his life he spent on his big Harley.

  Daniel tapped the table. "That's settled then. We'll exchange phone numbers, let you know where we're gonna be. And if you need to spend time with your pop, you know, we can call Lenny Liho’o to keep an eye on the place."

  "He still live up mauka, on the mountain?" Moke asked, tipping his head toward Mauna Loa looming behind the house. "He must be eighty by now."

  David grinned. "No idea how old he is, and I ain't gonna ask. And you should ask him about your dad, too—anybody knows where Timo might be, it would be Lenny."

  Daniel nodded. "He knows things, for sure."

  "Okay, keikis," Melia said. "Time for bed. You guys stay and talk."

  "I'll take Isaac up," David said. "Come back down."

  Daniel rose, his sleepy little boy draped on his shoulder, and reached out a hand to his wife. "I'll bring Matty. C'mon, pikake, up."

  The Ho'omalus trooped up the lawn to the house. Moke followed, loaded with as many dishes as he could carry. He set the things down on the kitchen counter and went back for another load.

  By the time Daniel came back downstairs, Moke had found the plastic wrap, and was storing food in one of the big side-by-side refrigerators.

  "Thanks," Daniel said, moving to begin loading the dishwasher. "Like Claire said, plenty food in there. Eat it up, 'cause Leilani gets back next week, and she'll be cooking up a storm for another dive group."

  He wiped his hands on a towel and lifted a hand to stop Moke's protests. "C'mon back to the beach. We'll have another beer and enjoy the evening."

  Back on the beach, as twilight fell over them with velvet coolness, David started a small camp-fire. Moke sat and listened to the soft sound of waves swishing on the sand, the occasional call of seabirds, and the crackle of the fire. The little fire flickered cheerily.

  "You want us to put the word out, let you know if anyone sights Timo?" David asked.

  "Sure." Moke kept his gaze on the far horizon, a flat band of silver sea under a line of clouds turning purple under the violet sky. Went against his every instinct to ask, but he didn't have unlimited time here. And he wasn't going home without confronting Timo.

  "Hear your mama is still up on the church plantation," Daniel said. "You gonna see her while you're here?"

  Moke snorted. "Nope." The woman hadn't wanted to see him while he lived here, so why the hell would he want to see her now?

  Daniel rumbled his assent.

  "You wanna talk, anytime, we're just a phone call or text away." David sat quiet on his other side. The offer was out there, but his tone and his body language said that was it, he wouldn't push.

  Moke appreciated that, but he guessed he owed them at least something for their hospitality. For the friendship that had been extended as if no gap of fifteen-odd years separated the last time they'd seen each other. He sighed heavily. "The land the homestead is on...it's half mine. Came down through my mother." They knew she was an Ahuelo cous
in, no need to say it.

  David whistled. "Holy hells."

  Moke rubbed his tired eyes. "Timo doesn't wanna take care of it, doesn't even live there most of the time."

  "But he's stubborn as a goat fish," Daniel guessed. "Doesn't want to give it up."

  Moke nodded. "So, he lets his latest drinking buddies camp there, treat the place like a latrine, and lives off his boat, instead of being a caretaker of the land, as we're meant to do."

  "So whatchu gonna do?"

  Moke sighed heavily. "Don't have a choice. I'd love to tell him I'm taking the place over, evict him if I have to."

  And wasn't that just a fun prospect? Throwing his own father off the place where he'd lived for thirty-some years. Although lately, Timo seemed to have been living elsewhere. "But instead, I gotta try and talk him into letting me sell the place. He could use his share to... I dunno, buy a bigger boat. At least have money to live on when he's old."

  "That's rough. Listen, we'll be gone four, maybe five days. But you need help, call. Daniel needs to stay close to Claire, but I can fly back here, take your back."

  "No, no." Moke shook his head. "You been great. Appreciate staying here, eating your grinds, sleeping in a nice bed. But this business with Timo—that's mine. I've gotta handle it."

  He no longer had a choice.

  T-Bear was a great guy, and his brother for life, but the man had never saved a penny. If he and Moke were going to buy JJ's Auto, and become business owners, they needed the money that the sale of the Ahuelo land would bring.

  Moke woke to the quiet bustle of David, Melia and their little ones preparing to leave.

  He sat up, shoving his hair out of his face, and slid off the bed. Most comfortable bed he'd slept in for a while, and the sheets were pure cotton, soft and smooth. Good thing, in this humidity, as his skin was damp with sweat where he'd lain.

  In the small private bathroom connected to his room, he used the toilet, splashed water on his face, combed back his hair and bundled it into a knot off his neck. An old pair of boardshorts, now faded to an indeterminate shade between green and gray, and his last clean shirt, a faded red MoPar tank, and he was ready to go.