by Jan Moran
“Wow, you’re sure out of touch. That’s Finley Green. It’s one of their older songs, too.”
Fianna stepped toward the radio, mesmerized by the slow ballad. She turned up the sound, thinking about the man who sang to her one balmy night, not too long ago. “The man who’s singing, isn’t that…”
“Niall Finley. What a sexy, gravelly voice, huh? Too bad he left the group.”
“Mmm.” Fianna ran her fingertips over her lips, remembering the kiss they’d shared, and the magic that had flared between them.
“His wife died, and he hasn’t done anything since.” Lizzie squinted at her sister. “Hey, are you okay?”
Fianna drew a breath and turned to Lizzie. “That song does something to you, doesn’t it?” Ignoring Lizzie’s puzzled look, she added, “Now let’s get your measurements so you can meet Shane for lunch.”
After Lizzie left, Fianna switched the radio to a classical station and breathed a sigh of regret. The last thing she needed was a reminder of Niall Finley and her massive error. What an idiot she’d been to accuse him of being a philandering married man. She’d always been quick to speak her mind. Maybe too quick.
10
NIALL EASED INTO a lounge chair, adjusted his dark Maui Jim sunglasses against the sun’s bright early rays and gazed over crystalline waves lapping sandy, vanilla shores. He kept an eye on Kaitlin, who was jogging along the water’s edge in a white bikini.
Kauai was less crowded than Oahu, or even Maui, which was why he and Laila had chosen this particular Hawaiian island. Kauai received a great deal of rainfall, so tropical plants proliferated. Spiky hala trees with aerial roots and lacy palipali ferns grew wild. Pikake flowers sweetened the light breeze. Vanda and dendrobium orchids bloomed in abundance, dotting the jungle-like landscape with vivid shades of purple, pink, and white.
Niall loved this island, which held some of his most cherished memories. He and Laila had often hiked through thick botanical vegetation, intent on discovering spectacular waterfalls and obscure swimming holes, where they’d had the freedom to frolic without the long invasive lenses of the paparazzi.
Their home here was a modest Hawaiian-style house, or hana, a single story family home that was nothing like the sleek, modern Malibu home he’d just sold.
The sprawling ranch property was gated at the road, but once inside, wide pocket doors slid into the walls and the house stood open to the natural surroundings. All around the house, white plumeria blossoms scented the air, the sound of running streams trickled over moss-covered rocks, and palm trees swayed in the onshore breeze.
Niall picked up a glass from the low table next to his chaise lounge and sipped fresh pineapple juice. His chest was already bronzed from three days in the sun. He was fortunate; his grandmother was of Italian heritage, and he’d inherited her deeper skin tone. Unlike his fair, freckled cousins who burned bright pink, his skin tanned to a rich golden brown—unless he stayed too long in the sun—while his dark blond hair gained streaks of light.
The waves were relentless in their rhythmic dance, arching, curling, crashing, and receding, only to begin anew. As he watched the sea, a nascent melody emerged in his mind. To his surprise, music had returned to his dry, desert-scape soul, taking root again in moist, fertile ground, sending up tender new shoots and unfurling like the hapu’u ferns that grew wild on the island.
There was only one explanation for it.
Fianna.
The night he’d met her, music had returned to his soul.
Kaitlin had wanted to come here to relax and recharge before returning to work. “I need a holiday,” she’d pleaded. He couldn’t deny his sister, and it wasn’t as if he had pressing business or a busy social schedule.
But as soon as he’d turned the key in the front door, he’d heard Laila’s laugh, the slap of her bare feet on the bamboo floors. This had been their hideaway, their most personal residence, where they’d come to disappear from the world. He remembered the songs he’d written for her here, the last ballad he’d recorded with Finley Green, as well as those he’d never shared with others.
Her presence was still here. Though her perfume had long since vanished, Niall could close his eyes and conjure the scent of island jasmine in her silky hair.
The squawking of shorebirds erupted on the beach. He watched as they sailed low across the sand, their wings spread like gliders, sunlight glancing off their white feathers. He and his wife used to sit for hours watching the ocean. The surfers, the sailboats and catamarans, the creatures of the sea. The warm Pacific Ocean was inviting, and they often jogged on the beach or swam in the morning before breakfast.
Niall breathed in the subtle, spicy aromas of lantana and red ginger wafting on the morning breeze. Glossy green plumeria leaves swayed slightly and the scent of jasmine blossomed in the air. He’d had strangely fitful dreams last night. Under the warmth of the sun, his eyelids grew heavy. He shifted on the chaise lounge and dozed off.
Soon a whisper of breath touched his shoulder, distinctly different than that of the ocean breeze.
Hello, Laila.
He drank in her presence.
Your music is returning, Niall. You can hear it again, can’t you?
His chin dipped against his chest.
It’s been a long, long time.
A melody wound through his mind. I was afraid it might never return. His neck prickled again, as if brushed with her gossamer touch.
It never really left you, Niall. I’ve been watching over your gift.
Gratitude filled his heart, and warmth spread through his chest. Since the first time he’d seen her, she’d been his muse. We need to talk, Laila.
A silence. Not yet, Niall.
He imagined her fingertips caressing his cheek and turned into the feeling, needing to summon the love he’d shared with her for so many treasured years. No, not just yet, my darling.
“Niall, wake up.” A hand—a real hand—rested on his arm.
“Hmm?” Niall slit open an eye, squinting against the brilliant reflection of the sun’s rays on the sea.
Kaitlin stood in front of him to block the glare. She wore a gauzy white sundress over her bikini, and her feet were bare. “You’ve been sleeping, but you’re starting to look like a lobster.”
He sat up, pushing his hair back from his forehead. His foggy thoughts were clearing, but he was reluctant to leave the dreamland he shared with Laila.
“Come inside. I have aloe vera gel in the refrigerator.” She held her hands out to him.
Niall grasped her strong, slender hands and pulled himself to his feet. He felt a vacuum forming in his mind where Laila had been.
“I’ve made fruit salad with avocado, lychee, mango, papaya, and lilikoi.”
Niall closed his eyes and smiled. “Passion fruit. That was Laila’s favorite.” He tried to summon his wife again, but she was gone.
Kaitlin drew her brows together. “Yes, it was.” She started across the warm sand, still holding his hand.
“You know what else she liked?”
Kaitlin sighed, and a wistful smile flickered across her face. “What, Niall?”
A smile tugged his lips. “This place. It was her favorite. We were happier here than anyplace else.”
Kaitlin led Niall through the opening by the kitchen. Bamboo floors and cabinets created a warm ambiance, and Kaitlin had bought fresh orchids as soon as they’d arrived. She’d give them to the caretaker when it was time to go.
On the walls hung Hawaiian artwork, which glowed with the natural shades of Hawaii—golden sunrises, an azure sea, scarlet hibiscus, and jade-colored tropical palms. A plumeria candle Laila had bought burned on the table, filling the air with its sweet floral scent.
Kaitlin reached into the refrigerator. “Here’s the aloe vera gel.” She handed him a green tube.
As Niall smoothed the gel onto his warm skin, he felt immediate relief.
She served the fruit salad and poured a vanilla protein shake into two tall glasse
s. Kaitlin sat beside her brother and unfurled a napkin.
“Ah, Laila would have loved this.”
“Yes, she would have.” She put her napkin down and turned to face him. “You know I love you, but I’m worried about you, Niall.”
“Worried? About what?” Outside, a pair of wind chimes tinkled in the breeze. “Listen to that, would you? Laila bought those at the local market.”
“I remember. Niall, I loved Laila, and so did you. But since I’ve been around you, I’ve noticed it’s as if she’s still with you.”
“She is, Kaitlin.” Niall’s voice was low and reverent. “She’s in every breath of wind, every note of music, every sunrise. Don’t you see that?”
As she took this in this truth, Kaitlin’s eyes rimmed with tears. “What I see is a man who loved his wife very much.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I miss her, too, Niall. After we eat, let’s go out. I met a man on the beach. He’s a musician, and he invited us to visit him on the beach this evening.”
Later, as the sun swept low in the sky, Niall heard a soulful Hawaiian tune rise from the shore. He stepped outside. Kaitlin was skipping toward a rotund, mahogany-skinned man, whose glossy dark hair flowed down the back of his white linen shirt. A bright floral Hawaiian wrap encircled his waist and hung to his shins. He sat on a rock and strummed a guitar, and his voice was one of the most mellow Niall had ever heard.
The man raised his hand in greeting. “Aloha,” he called, a smile wreathing his welcoming face.
“This is the man I as telling you about, Niall. While you were sleeping, we talked on the beach.” She tipped her head toward him. “His name is Eli, and he’s very wise.”
“Aloha,” Niall replied. He gestured toward the guitar, which was scratched and battered, but had a rich patina and an astounding sound. “That was a beautiful song. I love Hawaiian music.”
“Do you play?”
Niall raised his brow and gazed at Eli, but the man’s question was an honest one. “Yeah, but I haven’t played much in a long time.”
Eli smiled, his white teeth sparkling in the fading light. He handed his guitar to Niall. “Then you must play again, man.”
Niall shook his head “I’d like to listen to you for a while. You have such a unique voice.”
Eli plucked a few strings and sang, “Oo-ooh, oooh.”
Kaitlin clapped her hands. “That’s ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’, isn’t it?” she asked.
Eli’s face lit with pleasure, and his sweet voice soared as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, washing the sky with streaks of pink and orange and purple. As he segued into “It’s a Wonderful World”, Niall began to sing softly with him, and Kaitlin moved her shoulders with the music.
After they finished singing, Niall said, “That’s the version IZ recorded.”
Kaitlin stretched out on the sand on her stomach, digging her elbows into the soft sand and cupping her chin in her hands. “Who’s IZ?”
“Israel Kamakawiwo’ole,” Niall said. “He was called IZ for short. He was one of Hawaii’s most beloved singers.”
Eli nodded, and began another song. Tiki torches flared against the darkening sky, illuminating the night with flickering amber light.
After a while, Niall took the guitar and played a few of his old songs that had never been recorded, songs he’d kept for himself and Laila. Eli listened with his eyes closed, swaying in rhythm.
When Niall finished, Eli opened his eyes. “That was beautiful, man. Laila loved those.”
Kaitlin’s mouth opened. “Did you know Laila?”
Eli only smiled. “Play the new music that’s filling your soul, man.” His words were deep and rounded, and his voice reverberated in his broad chest.
Niall didn’t ask Eli how he knew about Laila, or the new melodies he felt in his soul. After all, Niall was from Ireland, the land of fairies and leprechauns, with tales as tall as the mountains. To him, Laila might have easily been dancing barefoot in the sand behind them. He swept around. He didn’t see her, but her felt her silky breath on his neck.
Slowly, he drew his fingers across the strings, trying out a new sequence of chords that had been running through his mind.
Eli rocked back and forth, listening with closed eyes again.
When the last note faded into the night, Eli locked his gaze on Niall. “You created that for a special woman.”
“I did,” Niall said softly. He handed the guitar back to Eli.
Eli focused on a spot just beyond Niall’s shoulder. “Laila says you must play that for your new woman.” His eyes misted. “She says it is time.”
Niall and Kaitlin glanced back, and saw a mound of sugary sand ruffle and gather and swirl into the air, glittering like diamonds against the golden torchlight. Higher and higher it went, until the twirling helix finally subsided and fell back to the soft dune.
Niall sucked in a breath. He turned back to Eli.
But his new friend had vanished.
11
FIANNA SWEPT TENDRILS of hair from her face with the back of her hand. On her other wrist, she wore a red pin cushion, which held an assortment of steel head pins. She’d spent the day marking and pinning and cutting. White satin, silk, and tulle formed a fluffy mound in the corner of her mother’s sewing room. She felt like a sculptor, whittling away the excess to find the true work of art within.
Davina sat beside the window, which was speckled with afternoon raindrops. She was sipping tea in a thin china cup imprinted with the Fitzgerald crest in red. They’d been discussing details about the fashion show. “Are you absolutely certain the trunks with your collection arrived?”
“I checked this morning. The hotel received them, and now they’re locked in storage. But I’ll have to open the trunks soon and hang the clothes.”
“The staff can steam or iron for you.”
“I’d rather do it myself.” When Davina shot her a look, she corrected herself. “This is important. I’d like to be present at least. Believe me, if I’m going to grow this enterprise, I realize I can’t do everything myself.”
“That’s better,” Davina said with a decisive nod. She crossed her legs and adjusted the Pucci turquoise and lime green print dress she wore. It was a relic from the 1970s that she’d found in the attic. “I gave this to Mary Margaret after I walked the runway for Pucci. She never wore it. Can you imagine? It’s like new.” She had a blueberry-colored scarf wrapped around her hair, and an assortment of gold chains and beads dangling around her neck.
“I can’t even imagine her in that,” Fianna said.
“Maybe not now, but there was a time Mary Margaret would’ve worn this. When she was at university in Dublin before she married.” She shook her head. “But she never did. What a waste.”
Fianna wasn’t sure if Davina meant the waste of a dress, or the waste of a moment in time. Mulling this over, she inspected a seam, recalling how her mother had looked at breakfast. She wondered if she might be ill. “Davina, is there anything wrong with Mam?”
“Wrong?” she echoed.
Before Fianna could elaborate, Lizzie poked her head in the door. “How’s it going?”
Fianna clipped a stray thread and looked up. “Fairly well. I have something for you to try on. The dress is still in progress, but I want to see how it falls on you.”
Lizzie slipped out of her sweater and skirt, and Fianna helped her into the reconstructed dress. “Careful, it’s held together with pins.”
Fianna stepped back and folded her arms, assessing the work she needed to do. She knelt and adjusted the hem.
“This is amazing.” Lizzie ran her hands over the new wide neckline and the slim silhouette. “What do you think, Davina?”
Frowning, Davina said, “The dress is looking much better, but why the long face, Lizzie? I’ve never seen such a sad expression on a girl who’s about to be married. How are things between you and Shane?”
Lizzie blinked several times. “We talked at lunch, but now I’m more confused than
ever.”
Fianna rocked back on her heels. “Why?”
“He understands why I’m freaked out, from this wedding that’s grown completely out of hand, to wanting to wait before I start popping out babies like Pez candy. The problem is that I think he’s being too accommodating. I don’t know whether he’s just trying to placate me before the wedding, or if he has the spine of a jellyfish. Either one is unacceptable.”
Davina drew a finger along her smooth, well-defined jawline. “Maybe he actually agrees with you. Shane O’Donnell has always seemed like a good egg.”
Lizzie blew air into her cheeks and shook her head. “What could you possibly know about marriage, Davina?”
“Just because I’ve never been married doesn’t mean I don’t know about men. Believe me, I’ve sampled the selections. And unless I’m mistaken, which I doubt, that man would lasso the sun to make you happy.”
Fianna grinned at her aunt’s colorful expressions as she made a chalk mark on the dress. “There, now step out of it. I know what I need to do.”
“It’s still that awful shade of bright blue-white. It’s horrible against my skin tone. Is there anything you can do about that?”
“You could dye the dress,” Davina said. “We used to do that all the time.”
Fianna glanced at a Degas ballerina print that hung on the wall. “I have an idea. How much tea do we have in the kitchen?”
Davina arched a brow, but she was clearly intrigued. “Whatever for?”
“In ballet class we once tinted our shoes and tights with tea. I could try a science experiment.” She picked up a length of discarded fabric and inspected it.
“Oh, no. Imagine the perfume I’ll have to wear to offset that scent,” Lizzie said.
“Dior, darling. Or maybe Chanel. I’ll help you with that.” Davina waved her wrist under her nose for emphasis. “The age-old question is, which tea is better, Barry’s or Lyon’s? You’ll have to have a tea-off.”
