“I’ll try,” she said honestly.
“Good. Trying is a start. I’ll take it.”
Sierra kept her sweatshirt on as they went through customs and tromped through Los Angeles International Airport, heading for their connecting flight to Honolulu. Mariana kept a conversation going on the phone with her father, as she gathered the final details about the beach house he had graciously rented for them through one of his airline employee discount travel services.
They were almost at their gate when Sierra felt a surge of sadness sweep over her. This was the first time she had been back on American soil in four years. The announcements over the speakers were in English. The signs were in English. People looked, talked, and acted different than they did in Brazil. Everything around her was familiar, yet she felt so distant from all of it.
The US hadn’t been her home for a long time. And now she wasn’t sure how much longer Brazil would be her home. This change of position and location was going to be hard. She knew she could live in a rural village, but she didn’t particularly want to. She also knew she could make new friends, but again, she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay where she was and find new ways to serve there so she wouldn’t have to leave all that had become familiar.
Pulling out her sunglasses again, Sierra shaded her eyes from Mariana’s view or anyone else’s who might notice her. To combat the chill that she still felt from the airplane and the strong air-conditioning in the terminal, she tucked back her hair and pulled the sweatshirt’s hood over her head. She didn’t care that as soon as Mariana finished her phone call she would inevitably tell Sierra that she looked like a turtle, and that was exactly what she had agreed to try not to become. For right now, that was what she needed.
Chapter Six
When Jordan picked up his rental car on Maui, he had another unexpected traveling bonus. The car rental company had run out of the class of car he had reserved, and he was given a convertible at no extra charge.
Carefully storing his camera case in the trunk beside his suitcase, he hopped in the driver’s seat and pushed the button that lowered the roof. The sun was directly overhead and began to bake the top of his head. Jordan went back to the trunk, pulled out his baseball cap, and was ready for the twenty-minute drive to the Wailea area where the wedding was scheduled to be held tomorrow afternoon. He was looking forward to diving into the water as well as knocking off some practice shots at sunset so he could get a feel for the best way to frame the photos for tomorrow’s ceremony.
He turned on the radio as he drove onto the main road that took him through Kahului. It was set to a station that played Hawaiian music. He kept it there, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. A local guy in a big truck pulled up next to him with the windows down. He looked over at Jordan and gave him a hand signal with his little finger and thumb the only digits showing as the back of his hand faced Jordan.
Jordan had seen lots of surfers in Santa Barbara exchange the “hang loose” hand gesture, so he returned the sign. That’s when he realized they were both tuned to the same radio station. And that explained why he was given the local greeting. He didn’t know any other reason someone would be so friendly to a person who was obviously a tourist driving around in a convertible rental car. Or was it possible that the people on Maui were just that friendly?
The air felt hot and sultry until Jordan reached the open highway where sugarcane fields grew as far as he could see on both sides. The breeze felt great as he sped along. He kept passing slow-moving cars and wondered if this was how slow everything was going to be on the island. He came up behind a rusted truck that had a big black dog standing up in the back and noticed the bumper sticker: SLOW DOWN. THIS AIN’T THE MAINLAND.
Jordan was about to pass him, just as he would anyone driving that slow in California, but then he noticed the posted speed limit sign, and he understood. This road was the closest thing Maui had to a freeway, and the top speed was forty-five miles per hour. How unexpected!
Jordan let up on the gas pedal and decided to “hang loose” and slow down. Why was he in such a hurry? Rushing around had been the only speed his life dial had been set on during the past two weeks, as he kept up with his job and his volunteer mentoring program and tried to prepare everything for the trip.
Now that he was here, he could slow down and take in the beauty all around him. Jordan gazed at the towering volcano that dominated the landscape on his left side. He had read in the in-flight magazine that the road went all the way to the observatory at the top of the ten-thousand-foot dormant volcano. The photos with the article made him wish he was going to be on Maui longer so he could go up to the summit and take pictures at sunrise.
Such thoughts used to make him dream even more intently that one day he could become a professional photographer. Jordan realized that day had come. He had enough credibility now with the cover shot that he could pitch his work for a variety of other photo assignments while traveling to exotic locations for Surf Days Magazine. Why not? All he had to do was pull his portfolio together and apply to the art department at airline magazines and tour companies.
Jordan rolled into the upscale, spectacularly landscaped area of Wailea and found the five-star hotel where the wedding party was staying. He turned the keys over to the valet and registered at the front desk, once again having fun pretending that this was how he traveled all the time. The lobby was a wide open space with a spectacular ocean view and an enormous bouquet of tropical flowers positioned on a large, round table in the lobby’s center. Once he finished unpacking, Jordan planned to come back and snap close-ups of the flowers to test his new camera.
He pulled out his phone to check the time and saw that he had missed a call from Derek. He walked toward the elevator, listening to the message, when suddenly he stopped in the middle of the lobby. He immediately called Derek and waited for him to pick up. When it went to voice mail, Jordan said, “Hey, I just got your message. Is Mindy okay? Call me back as soon as you can. I’ll be praying for you guys.”
Jordan stood in the same spot for several minutes, numbed by the news and watching the screen on his phone, hoping Derek would call back. All Derek had said in his message was that Mindy was thrown from her bike by a hit-and-run driver and that Derek was with her at the hospital.
Not sure what to do, Jordan kept his phone in his hand and headed for the elevator. He waited for the door to open, silently praying for his friends. Just as his phone rang, two other people approached the elevator door. Jordan’s arm swung out too quickly, and he bumped the woman with his heavy camera case strapped over his shoulder.
“Sorry,” he said without looking at her. He was too intent on getting the phone to his ear. “Derek? How’s Mindy? Is she okay?”
The elevator doors closed with the couple inside while Jordan stayed where he was, waiting for the report.
Sierra pushed the button, and the elevator door opened once more. She assumed that the guy who had just bumped her with his shoulder bag wanted to get in. The door opened, but the guy in the baseball cap stood in the same place, looking down as he spoke into his cell.
“Did they find the guy who hit her?” After only a moment’s pause he asked, “What did the doctor say?”
Sierra took the cue that the poor guy was too distracted with what was obviously a difficult phone call. She pushed the CLOSE button, and the stranger beside her pushed the button for the third floor. She pushed the button for the fourth floor. The two of them rode in silence as she thought about how different this was from Brazil.
First, the hotel was like no place she had ever stayed. It was over-the-top amazing. And whether she should or not, she felt safe riding in an elevator with a stranger.
Second, everyone spoke English. Her overworked brain already felt as if it were on vacation. She was used to straining to listen to every conversation so she could catch enough words to manage to understand. Then her brain had to find a place to file the words away for later use. Here, she understood eve
rything. Even the personal conversation of the guy on the phone outside the elevator.
It made her realize how much of life she had missed because she didn’t understand the language. Sierra pondered, as she had many times before, why she wasn’t able to capture the Portuguese language. If God had called her to serve the Brazilian people, wouldn’t she be more effective if she could speak the language? If it hadn’t been for Mariana, who was her constant, willing translator, Sierra had a feeling she would have given up a long time ago. She knew she was gifted in some areas, but language wasn’t one of them.
She realized after the other passenger left the elevator that she was feeling a whole lot better than she had when she and Mariana had landed in Los Angeles. During their five-hour flight to Honolulu, Sierra had warmed up not only physically but also emotionally. Everyone on the flight seemed happy to be on their way to Hawaii, and that jovial attitude was contagious.
Somewhere over the blue Pacific, Sierra turned to Mariana. “I’m nervous about going to the wedding. I hope I made the right decision.”
“Of course you made the right decision,” Mariana told her. “You’re going to see your sister and your nephew. I would have done the same thing. If I had a sister. Or a nephew.”
Sierra was reminded, when she saw the look on Mariana’s face, that ever since her mother died when she was eleven, Mariana had craved female company. She admitted early in their friendship that she needed to be around women who were sensible and moral like Sierra.
Mariana wasn’t the only one who benefited from the relationship, though, as Sierra often reminded her. Both of them had strong needs for female companionship, and that need had been the cement that held their friendship together in spite of their cultural backgrounds and their long list of differences.
Sierra considered telling Mariana a little about Paul so she could understand the deeper reasons for Sierra’s hesitancy. The words never quite formed in her thoughts or found their way to her mouth. Their flight landed in Honolulu, and Sierra’s secret stayed with her. They deplaned and walked as far as they could together in the large open-air terminal. Mariana was headed for the car rental desk, and Sierra had to catch the Wiki Wiki tram that would take her to the other end of the terminal for her interisland flight to Maui.
“Listen,” Mariana said before they went their separate ways. “I know I complained at first that you were leaving me alone at Sunset Beach. And I may have exaggerated a little to Allyne. I know it’s only for two nights. And it’s okay. I found out where my cousin’s friends are staying so I will hang out with them at Turtle Bay until you show up. It will be fun. You’ll see.”
Sierra had a pretty good idea why Mariana waited until the last moment to break this news to her. It left no room for Sierra to give Mariana a sisterly reminder of how things had gone the last time the two of them went to a birthday party at Rodrigo’s apartment and a bunch of his surfer friends were there. That party had been particularly distressing to Sierra because, to escape the craziness going on inside the apartment, she had gone to the swimming pool with Allyne and two other women. While they were calmly paddling around, Sierra had lost her necklace. She didn’t realize it until an hour later when she took a taxi home by herself. It was a simple, one-of-a-kind necklace with an emblem in the shape of a daffodil.
Paul had given her the necklace when he had dubbed her the Daffodil Queen for the way she was bold and “blew the trumpet of truth.” Even while he was away at school in Scotland, his letters said that she reminded him of the bright yellow daffodils that announced spring so brazenly.
The elevator door opened on the fourth floor, and Sierra stepped out, checking her room number once again. 422.
Stopping in front of the hotel room door, Sierra stood there without knocking, feeling sheepishly hesitant and uncharacteristically shy. On the other side of that door were her sister, her brother-in-law, and her nephew. In that moment she realized how much she had changed—how much Brazil had changed her, how much God had changed her—over the past four years.
She was no longer the blaring daffodil, quick to tell everyone what they were supposed to do with their lives. Instead she had become a quiet, humble observer.
The funny part was that she had no idea what she was supposed to do with her own life, let alone advise others about theirs.
She had a feeling her sister would find that ironic considering all the free advice Sierra had dished out to her during their combative teen years. Pulling her dormant courage to the forefront, she knocked softly on the hotel room door and waited to see what would happen next.
Chapter Seven
Jordan trekked down the cement steps to the beach and wedged his bare feet in the warm sand. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the news Derek had given him less than an hour ago. Mindy seemed to be doing okay after being catapulted over the handlebars of her bike and landing in a grassy spot along the winding Santa Barbara hillside. They were waiting for some more tests to be run before she could go home, but Derek said she was telling everyone she felt fine.
Neither Derek nor Jordan mentioned how this turn of events might affect Derek and Mindy’s flight in two days. It was best to wait and see what the doctor had to say.
Jordan surveyed the beach, looking for level spots for portrait shots. He noticed the finely ground sand had a much lighter ivory color than he was used to. That could affect the light reflection. The water, too, was a more turquoise shade than he expected. When he had viewed the hotel’s website, he’d assumed all the photos of the ocean and beach had been retouched. Apparently color enhancement wasn’t necessary. This cove really was as pristine as the promotional materials claimed. Already he was seeing that he would be working in conditions very different from where he was used to shooting on the beaches of Santa Barbara.
The angle of the light was what he had to worry about.
Jordan’s creative eye lined up shots, as he took a series of sample frames to get a feel for the light and color. The more he worked, the more his confidence grew. This was going to be good. He could do this. He could pull off some spectacular shots that would be great for the bridal couple, but they would also provide a boon for the portfolio he needed to put together.
The background Jordan was most intrigued with was an outcropping of dark volcanic rock at the far right end of the beach. Bright green foliage grew in abundance and spilled over the lookout point. The vibrant green created a striking contrast to the rock’s obsidian and the ocean’s aqua. He decided to take the trail that led to the top of the lava flow.
Once he stood on the end of the outlook, Jordan tested his longdistance lens and was pleased to see how sharp the images were. With a few adjustments, he could clearly see the faces of people who were stretched out on the resort beach in lounge chairs. Pulling back the zoom, he took a series of shots of the beautifully manicured beach with the lined-up white lounge chairs and bright blue umbrellas. A yellow outrigger canoe was balanced halfway on the grass and halfway on the sand near a thatched-roof stand that bore a sign that read BEACH ACTIVITIES.
Next Jordan lined up some shots of an island that was in clear view across the ocean. He was feeling a lot more comfortable with the new camera and confident he could make use of all the lenses now that he had had a successful trial run. The only thing left to do was to meet the bride and groom at the gazebo before the rehearsal that evening at five o’clock. Jordan checked his phone again. No calls from Derek. But he did have enough time to return the camera to his room for safekeeping and return for a swim.
Jordan stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor and ran the card key through the slot in his hotel room door. The small light turned red, not green, as it had earlier that afternoon when a swipe of the card had unlocked the door. He tried again. And a third time. Still no success. He wondered if the magnetic tape had been desensitized. He gave it one more try.
Then the door was yanked open from the inside. A young woman holding a naked, dripping wet baby in her arms
looked up at him. Her face expressed the same startled surprise he felt. The toddler in her arms began to wail.
Jordan looked at the room number on the door. 422. He was in 423. “I’m so sorry.” He turned and went down to his door before the startled young woman had a chance to say anything over the din of the baby’s cries.
Two images stayed in his mind as he ducked inside his room. The first was the pudgy whiteness of the baby’s bottom in contrast to the poor little guy’s sunburned back. The second was the clarity of light in the woman’s eyes. He couldn’t remember exactly what color they were, but they had taken on a translucent luster like aquamarine in a stained-glass window at sunrise.
All Jordan could hope for was that the woman and her son weren’t part of the wedding party. If by any chance they were, he would have to face them again in a few hours and hope she didn’t recognize him without his baseball cap.
Sierra closed the hotel room door and tried her best to quiet her wailing nephew. “It’s okay, Ben. Shh. It’s okay. Back in the tub you go. We were having fun, remember?” She lowered the sunburned little butterball back into the four inches of water and held out his favorite green truck. He stifled his cries with an involuntary shiver and took the truck from Sierra.
A few hours earlier Sierra had seen her nephew for the first time when she entered the room. Jeremy opened the door, gave her a big hug, and whispered that Ben was sleeping. Sierra glanced into the room and saw Tawni stretched out on one of the two queen beds next to the sleeping cherub. He was wearing only a diaper decorated with dancing penguins.
“He’s adorable,” Sierra whispered, barely making a sound.
Tawni managed to expertly extract herself from the bed and tiptoed across the room to offer Sierra a hello hug. The two of them slipped into the bathroom where the fan was running for background noise. They hugged again, and Tawni asked all the expected questions about how her flight had been and said how great Sierra looked.
Love Finds You in Sunset Beach, Hawaii Page 4
