“What? Can’t you arrest him? He tried to murder me! Twice!”
“I can call the Atlanta PD once the phone lines are up to see what our options are. But unless he has an arrest warrant in Georgia, there’s little we can do. I understand you’re frustrated. I need you to trust me when I say I will help you. In the meantime, I’d suggest you spend as little time alone as possible. And I promise to get more police patrols around your work and home.”
I buried my face in my hands. I wanted to scream into them but held back. It wasn’t Officer Lanna’s fault. She was a police officer. She had to follow the letter of the law. I just wanted this all to end, for Jeff to rot in a jail cell on the other side of the country. I needed Maui, now tainted by his presence, to be my Maui again.
I looked out the window at more stripped palm trees and realized that after this storm, it would take a long time before things felt normal. Jeff was only one small part of all of my stress. The inn, Auntie’s health, my father, and even my blossoming relationship with Calder combined like a weight on my chest. I could only manage, at best, shallow breaths, and felt my heart racing a mile a minute.
The lights in the hallway flickered a few times, then went cold. I heard audible gasps and screams from the gymnasium. Officer Lanna sprang to her feet, her professional instincts taking over, but stopped before she left the room.
“Are you going to be okay? You look pale. A social worker friend of mine is here. You want to talk to her?”
I waved her off, not wanting to burden her more than she already was, and recalled a social worker who talked to me in the hospital who only made things worse, suggesting the best way to handle the situation was to press charges and face Jeff in a courtroom. I shivered at the thought of taking the witness stand with him seated across from me. I wasn’t strong enough. Yet.
Morning turned into quite a melancholy afternoon. For most of it, Tad decided to keep me under lock and key until he and Jim searched the entire building for any sign of Jeff.
I resigned myself to lying in a corner on one of the many couches, my head resting on Auntie’s lap while she stroked my hairline and hummed, poorly, some of her favorite songs, the way my mother used to when I was younger.
I imagined, for a moment, that Auntie, much older than Mom, did this for her, just as Auntie’s mother or father did for them.
Her humming, a swig of rum from her hidden flask, and the melodic thrashing of the rain against the sturdy windows made me almost fall asleep. Almost.
But periodically, my brain decided to flash the haunting image of Jeff in the dark hallway above, him chasing me down like I was a camp counselor to his Jason Voorhees. My whole body would shudder. Auntie would calm me down, then restart her current tune.
I got fed up. I didn’t want to just lie around all day while everyone was occupied around me, and every time some otter-like white guy walked by the door of the teacher’s lounge, I got nervous thinking it was Jeff.
I needed to do something.
“Where’s Calder been?” I asked Auntie.
She stopped humming for a moment. “I think he set up a campsite of sorts in the cafeteria for the children. He’s most likely been there all night.”
As I got up to leave, Auntie scolded me. Even she seemed to want to limit my movements.
“Auntie, come on. There’s literally twenty people in the hallway, and the cafeteria is only a few doors down.”
She scoffed, then leaned back and resumed her humming. I questioned her sanity for a moment, as I swore I saw her still stroking my not-present hairline, only to realize she was conducting to her own personal orchestra.
I didn’t know how anxious she was over the state of the inn and swore silently to myself to make sure she would be all right after the storm ended.
Moments later, I stood in the doorway to the cafeteria to a sight to behold, a happy one that shooed my melancholy away.
Calder was being chased by a chain of arm-linked children, a tired-looking Jim in the middle, playing a raucous round of blob tag in a space way too small for the game.
I watched as Calder ran into a corner, now pinned in by a line of children, a faux look of horror on his face. He seemed to be the sort of guy who made an excellent gym teacher. His style with the children became more animated and lively compared to the Calder I had met in a town hall parking lot.
His smile faded when he spotted me by the door, but only for an instant. The teacher in him took over as the kids broke formation and pounced on him, laughing and giggling until he managed to blow on his whistle and end the game.
He looked at his watch and ordered the kids to return to their parents, now nearly dinner time.
The kids all whined about wanting to continue, but Jim stepped in and helped usher them out of the cafeteria, leaving Calder to clean up whatever mess they had left.
On his hands and knees, he got to collecting hand-drawn pictures strewn about, drawings of the kids, their homes, and their stick-figure families.
“I heard what happened,” he said as I knelt down to help. “Are you okay?”
As we both reached for the same drawing, his hand found its place on mine. I felt him trace his thumb around my knuckle. Compared to his warmth, I could tell I was cold and clammy. I just wanted to go home, to fall asleep in my beach-side apartment, and wake up to the sound of a calming ocean.
Most of all, I wanted to not think about Jeff.
“I don’t know how to be,” I whispered to him.
Calder didn’t press me any further. Instead, we spent time together cleaning up the cafeteria. It felt good to be alone with him, and I found myself not wanting this tranquil moment to end.
12
Afternoon 22
Once the storm ended, it took another day before the roads were cleared enough to return to Lahaina, and we were given the okay to leave by Officer Lanna. I squished myself into the middle of Calder’s truck with Auntie to my right. We were both shivering from a chill in the air left in the hurricane’s wake.
Auntie took my hand. I could tell she was weak by the way she clung to me, shuffling her feet as though her legs were too heavy to move.
I could sense her apprehension. Like me, she worried about her home. News of the inn hadn’t reached us amidst other more pressing topics. In particular, all of the major hotels on the island were closed, their doors still locked and covered by metal sheeting.
What triggered most people at the school was the indefinite closure of the airport. The fuel tanks had been compromised by the storm. Until they were emptied, repaired, and refilled by way of multiple fuel planes from the mainland, everyone was stuck.
We also knew that both roads to Hana were closed until trees could be cleared. With cell towers down and electricity out, Calder had no way to contact his family. Even now, he tried to reach them on his phone, but his calls kept failing. Frustrated, he kicked the side of his truck before climbing in.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” I said to him.
He breathed out his tension and his jaw relaxed, although his knuckles were still white from gripping the steering wheel. “I know. That side of the island didn’t get hit as hard. You mind if I stay with you for a few more days until I can find somewhere else to go?”
“Of course. Stay as long as you need. As long as the inn is still standing...”
Before he could thank me, we were surprised by the whole truck dropping a few inches. I turned around to see Tad and Jim hopping into the truck bed. Tad banged on the side, eager to go, and we pulled out of the still-full parking lot, through a sea of tourists doing their best to secure a way off the island.
I didn’t want to let on to Auntie or Calder that I was checking the faces of every single one of them, hoping not to find Jeff. In truth, I hoped he didn’t get to another shelter. I wanted nothing more than to read a report of his demise in the newspaper.
I could only be so lucky.
What should have been a ten-minute drive took forty minutes — forty mi
nutes of Auntie clutching my hand while dabbing tears from her eyes with a spare hankie.
We passed the market, the parking lot empty aside from some overturned carts and fallen palm trees. As we entered Lahaina, the city seemed wounded. I wondered if the magnificent banyan tree in the heart of town endured, although I hoped it had weathered too many storms to suffer any lasting damage.
The tension in the cab stifled me. Despite the windows being rolled down to let the 65-degree air in, it felt hard to breathe. As we rounded the corner toward the inn, I let go of Auntie’s hand and wrapped my arm around her, prepared to comfort her for the worst.
But the tension vanished the instant our magnificent white palace came into view. Hopping the curb to work around a fallen palm tree, we pulled into the parking lot.
Auntie jumped up and down in her seat, her palms striking the roof of the truck, excited.
“Oh! Tad! Adam! It’s still here! My home is still here!”
I had never seen the woman so happy. Even Calder, brooding over his family, tooted the horn in celebration as we pulled up to the front steps.
Moments later, I stood on the front steps, my jaw agape.
Looking over at our neighbors, a single-family residence, I gasped. It seemed their house didn’t meet a flying tree it didn’t let inside. Their roof was ripped completely off, while ours, at least from the front, was unscathed.
While Auntie and Tad went inside, Calder and Jim followed me to the back of the house. The sand felt squishy, still waterlogged from storm surge. Jim lent me his phone, mine still dead, so I could shine it into the crawlspace below the house. Aside from some standing water, I saw no sign of damage.
And once in the backyard, our sheer luck became obvious. Aside from some pieces of lawn furniture that didn’t belong to us strewn across the yard, and the fence surrounding the property gone, blown from the posts, there was zero evidence of any significant damage.
I inhaled the scent from the beach. It smelled rotten, of refuse and seaweed mixed, left to bake in the sun. I walked the path up the dune to the beach.
The ocean looked like absolute carnage, still churning more than usual. It seemed the only lasting consequence was two feet less of beach space outside the inn.
I breathed a giant sigh of relief and returned to the inn to sounds of Auntie squealing with delight, forgetting momentarily the tax burden she still bore.
She waved her cane at us as we walked into the kitchen from the back door. “Roll up your sleeves, boys! There’s work to do!”
“What’s the rush?” I asked. “It’s not like we have any guests.”
“You go dumb, Makani? The island’s full of them and all the big hotels are closed up!”
I was shocked by her suggestion. For her entire career, Auntie never let a person in need pay to stay at her inn, but now she was jumping for joy at the idea of taking advantage of tourists trapped here.
“You’re not saying we gouge them, are you?” I asked.
“Rubbish! We’ll charge them a fair rate. Why shouldn’t we?” She hobbled across the room and flung open the pantry to reveal a fully stocked closet, unspoiled by the storm. Considering it had only been two days of cold temperatures, and how dry the pantry remained, even the fruits and vegetables were still good to go. Auntie launched into action.
“We have a full larder, we have a stocked bar, and we have plenty of rooms to spare! Calder, will you be a dear and get the jugs of water from my bedroom? I filled them before we left. And Tad, sweetie, go back to the school and start collecting some guests. We have twelve guest rooms to fill, $120 a night, cash only! Yes. That’s a nice, round number!”
Tad chuckled. He knew better than to argue with Auntie. He elbowed me in the ribs to get my attention, leaned in, and whispered to me, “Don’t let her get too riled up. She hasn’t slept in two days.”
Auntie heard him, and balked at him, throwing a roll of paper towels across the room with a force that belied her age, striking Tad in the head. “Why are you still here? Go! Get me some paying guests!”
Tad backed out of the room, glaring at Auntie in a playful, loving way. That left just Jim and me.
“Makani, dear.” She hobbled across the room before stopping in front of Jim, seeming to notice him standing there for the first time. “Jim, what are you still doing here? Don’t you have things to do?”
“I’d rather not,” he mumbled.
Auntie shrugged. “Fine. Just make yourself useful. Go clean up the outside. Find my patio furniture if you can. I’m sure it couldn’t have gone far. Maybe check the neighbor’s living room!” She let out a loud belly laugh.
“Auntie! What a thing to say!” Still. I couldn’t help but laugh with her. It was a relief to see her so alive, so full of hope, and I knew the house next to us sat vacant most of the year anyhow. Chances were the owners wouldn’t show up for weeks to assess the damage. That or they’d pay some property management firm to take care of it for them.
She playfully slapped my cheek as Jim left the room, leaving just the two of us, then turned on a dime and became very serious.
“Do you need me to go to the police with you?” she asked.
I knew immediately that Tad told her about our conversation with Officer Lanna, and considering we saw her only minutes before at the school, it was too early for me to go to the station to file a report. I shook my head.
“Fine, but promise me you’ll go nowhere alone!”
I huffed and mumbled a yes back to her, but she gripped my chin between her thumb and index finger.
“I mean it, Adam. I saw how scared you were of that man. If you step one foot off this property without Calder or Tad with you, I’ll put you on the first flight off this island. I won’t have you risk your life by going for a stroll.”
“I promise.”
She rubbed my chin where she had pinched me. “Good. And when you go to the station, I’m going with you. I want to hear everything the police say. I won’t let them brush you aside because they think you’re some haole.
“You came here to be safe, so safe you’ll be. The day that bastard lays another finger on you is the day I go to prison for murder. I’ll show him for hurting one of my boys!”
I sniffled and blinked my eyes as they began to water. Auntie had a way of warming my heart. Coming to Maui suddenly seemed the right choice for me, after all.
I hoped when this was all over, if we were able to save the inn, I could bring my mother and sister out here for good. I wondered for a moment if they would come.
That led me to think about saving the inn. The news said the airport would be down for a week, at least. If we managed to fill every room to capacity, at $20 a day cost per person, that meant only $6,000 in profit. We still had a few weeks to find $20,000 more to pay the tax bill.
In those three weeks, I could earn perhaps another $800 from the market, but that would almost certainly go toward expenses for the inn.
We needed money, and we needed it fast, and without the internet or electricity for the foreseeable future, I couldn’t check my fundraising page. And now was the perfect time to try to make it go viral. Folks from the mainland would be pouring money in left and right to support us.
As I helped Auntie prepare for our guests by checking every room, everything came rushing back to me. When I was with people, I could distract myself. But alone in empty hotel rooms with nothing but my own thoughts, my mind jumped from worrying about the inn to worrying about Jeff. Back and forth like a sadistic game of neurotic pong.
And then I heard music coming from downstairs, albeit music intermixed with a fair amount of static.
At least Auntie’s radio works. That’s something.
I heard the sound of tires on gravel coming from the front. I exited the last guest room, beds made, bathrooms scrubbed, and pillows fluffed. I thought about leaving our care package for the guests with complimentary water, treats, and information on local venues, an idea I implemented two weeks ago when I could do nothing
but sit at a table, but decided against it.
If we were to make this work, we needed to make sure we didn’t waste things like potable water or foodstuff. With snacks and water, guests were more likely to lock themselves in their rooms all day instead of having a pleasant experience with Auntie downstairs.
We needed these environmental refugees to go back to the mainland and tell others about the “port in the storm” the Estate Inn became.
I pulled the curtain back on one of the front windows to see Tad’s truck popping and creaking as he pulled into the parking lot, a line of cars behind him.
“One, two….. ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen,” I counted.
My grin matched Tad’s as he climbed out of the truck and noticed me. He waved, then directed the cars in, orchestrating them so they would all fit in our nearly too-tiny parking lot.
He then ran to the back corner, where I noticed Jim working on putting up our fallen basketball hoop. Tad grabbed a ball from the ground and tossed it across the parking lot, to be caught by a young boy, likely ten or eleven. Within seconds, four more boys and girls joined in while their parents went inside.
As I went to help Auntie greet the guests, I realized the door to my bedroom was open, the drapes covering my ocean-facing windows flapping in the wind. I wondered if we had overlooked some damage, but there was no sign on the floor of broken glass or debris, and the carpet wasn’t wet.
I crept into the room, my body stiff and edgy, pleading to myself that Jeff hadn’t crashed here, hadn’t managed to infiltrate the inner-most sanctum that was my bedroom.
Would he be this bold?
Water ran in the bathroom, the door opened only a crack. There was no electricity, no hot water, and no steam. I thought it might be Calder, taking an ice-cold shower after working around the inn.
Not one to take a chance, I grabbed a lonely baseball bat by the door with a tag attached to it that read, “Just in case, -T.”
When did Tad put this here?
With the baseball bat in hand, prepared to do the same thing to Jeff that he did to me with a glass ashtray, I raised it above my head and yanked the door open to find a shivering Calder cleaning himself quickly, to avoid staying under the frigid water for too long.
Sunset Sanctuary Page 12
