She had no idea how long she stood on the veranda mesmerized by the water but she shook herself free and called her father and then her mother to let them know she’d arrived safely. After that she shot Greg a text relating the same info. Done, she unpacked and took out Jane’s to-do list. On it were a number of things but at the top was massage. That was something Anita had never experienced before so she called the concierge to get information on what she needed to do.
Although she found the place beautiful and all, she was still in Hawaii under protest and the sooner she checked off the items on the list—like take a helicopter tour of the island and watch a sunset at some place called Polihale Beach—the sooner she’d be done with it, and maybe able to go home a few days early.
* * *
Steve parked his Jeep in the driveway of Mrs. Tanaka’s rambling old house and got out. She lived in the middle of nowhere on the western side of the island off Route 50. She was a retired school teacher and the last living descendant of an old Japanese family that had come to the islands in the late 1800s to work the sugar cane plantations. The house was next to impossible to find unless you knew where to look because it was all but covered by the tropical landscape and the Japanese honeysuckle vines surrounding it. Needless to say, she had no neighbors and her preference for solitude was something she and Steve shared.
On the porch, he bowed reverently to the statue of the crossed-legged Buddha sitting so serenely atop its stone pedestal before knocking on the screened door. “Mrs. T. You home?”
She appeared at the door and as always welcomed him with a smile. “Well, hello.” She held open the door. He paused to place a kiss on her unlined cheek before moving past her and into the front room. Unlike the riotous tropical jungle outside, the home’s interior was as spartan as a warrior’s. Simple functional furniture, a lone lamp and a short-legged table were the extent of the contents.
It felt good to be home again. Although he was as close as a son could be to his parents in Texas, he loved Mrs. T, too. “How’d he do while I was gone?”
“Just fine. He’s out on the porch.”
The “he” was Dog, the sixty-five-pound male Rottweiler. Dog had originally belonged to Mrs. Tanaka’s son, David, but his death in Iraq left the Rott—who’d been adopted as a starving pup off the streets of Baghdad—without a master and Steve and Ferg without one of their best buddies. They’d made David a promise that, if anything happened to him, they’d take Dog to his mother in Hawaii. So they had honored the vow by bringing Dog with them to David’s funeral. The canine and the mother took an instant liking to each other which she attributed to David’s scent being in the house, but she also took an instant liking to Steve and he to her. In the end, she took Dog in, and when Steve and Ferg declined the offer from the marines to reenlist because they’d had enough war, she took Steve in, as well. He lived in the old cottage on the back of her property. Both he and Ferg fell in love with the quiet beauty of Kauai. Each could have chosen to return home but opted not to. It was as if they’d needed the island to heal.
When Dog saw Steve step onto the porch, he bounded over and immediately lifted himself up for a head rub which Steve affectionately gave. “How are you, buddy? You take good care of Mrs. T while I was gone?”
The two roughhoused a bit before Steve took a seat on the edge of the porch and Dog stretched out on his belly beside him. Draping an arm across Dog’s thick neck, Steve gazed over the mountains towering against the horizon. He swore if you listened hard enough you could hear the hidden waterfalls even though they were miles away. “I never get tired of this view.”
“Neither do I. Let me get you some juice and you can tell me about the run.”
Over a chilled glass of papaya juice, Steve told her about the routine flight to L.A. “A quick trip there and back with an overnight thrown in. Nothing special—except the lawyer in the stilettos.”
Mrs. T was rocking in an old cane chair. “Stilettos? Was she pretty?”
He shrugged and smiled inwardly. She was always trying to find him a lady friend. When he had first moved in, she’d invited over every eligible young woman within fifty miles for dinner. “I guess. A bit too icy for my tastes though.”
“So what happened with her?”
He told her about being rebuffed in his attempt to help the lawyer with her bag, and about her slipping and falling in the oil.
“You didn’t laugh, did you, Steve?”
“Not out loud, no.”
“Was she hurt?”
“Just her ego.”
“Why would anyone wear stilettos to Kauai?”
Another shrug. “Maybe she’s here for a big meeting. I don’t know.”
Apparently Mrs. T didn’t see the lawyer as a prospect because she changed the subject. “You flying in the morning?”
“Yep. Doing runs for the resort. Won’t know how many though until I get there.” He’d been piloting helicopter tours for four years. He loved flying, always had, but the war had dampened his feelings for a while. Now that he didn’t have to dodge weapons fire anymore, it was again his one true love. He stretched his arms and shoulders in response to the weariness he felt. “I’m going to get going. I need a nap and I promised my mother I’d call her today.”
“Give Lady Gwendolyn my love.”
The two women had become close over the years. “Will do. See you later?”
“Only if you want the spaghetti and meatballs I’m cooking for dinner.”
“I’ll see you later.”
He stepped off the porch, and with Dog trotting by his side, made his way down the vine-choked path to his home.
Mrs. Tanaka’s land was once part of a sugar cane plantation, and the house Steve lived in had been built for the caretaker. It had one bedroom, one bathroom and a small kitchen. David had used it as his bachelor pad during the summers he was home from college and, when Steve had claimed the space for himself, it was in good shape. The flowering vines and tropical vegetation were as prevalent around his place as they were around Mrs. Tanaka’s but Steve and his chain saw made sure they didn’t get out of hand.
Inside the house, he dumped his backpack on the worn sofa and called his mother. Cell service was spotty so he used the landline and put it on speaker. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey. How’s my favorite fly guy?”
He grinned and patted Dog on the head and took a seat at the kitchen table near the phone. “Doing good. How’re you?”
“Can’t complain.”
They spent a few minutes chitchatting about his younger brother, Kyle, and the investment firm he owned, and about Steve’s dad, Marcus, and her never-ending battle to get him to retire. “He’ll retire when he’s ready, Mom. Why do you keep hassling him?”
“Because I want him to retire with me, not to a casket.”
His dad was in his late sixties and still going strong as CEO of Blair Oil, the company founded by Steve’s great-grandfather. “He’ll be fine. Oh, Mrs. T says hello.”
“Tell her hello from this end. You coming home for Juneteenth?”
“I’m planning to.”
“Okay. And by the way, I saw Yvette Jenison at the market yesterday. I still want to strangle her.”
“Let it go.”
“I have, and I was polite because your grandmother raised me right, but I wanted to shove her into the milk cooler—selfish little witch. You don’t send my son a Dear John letter while he’s serving his country in Iraq.”
The pain of that day rose inside, but he let it wash over like a wave over a surfer. “How’s she doing?”
“I didn’t ask.”
He chuckled. “So what else is going on?”
They spent a few more minutes talking about how much she was enjoying the new reverend at their A.M.E. church, then about the fall his Aunt Charlene took a fe
w days ago while riding one of her horses and how blessed she was not to have broken any bones. After a few more topics that left him amused at her talkativeness, she said, “I don’t want to keep you. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“That’ll be great. Tell Dad, hey. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you more.”
As he sat in the silence, Yvette Jenison’s beautiful face floated across his mind’s eye. They’d hooked up during their first year at UT, but he hadn’t been happy there. Too restless a spirit he supposed, so rather than waste any more of his parents’ money, he had left school at the beginning of his sophomore year, and signed the paperwork to become a marine. Yvette had been both angry and hurt, but in the end gave the impression that she supported his decision and would continue to love him while he was away. Six weeks after he had arrived in Baghdad, her letter arrived saying she’d met someone else and hoped he understood.
Of course, he wasn’t the first soldier to be ditched, but having a lady back home was sometimes the only sane thing to hold on to in the insanity of war. It hurt. Hurt bad. In many ways it still did, which was one of the reasons he hadn’t opened his heart to anyone else. That and the fact that he’d yet to meet a woman who wanted to live in an overgrown cottage in the middle of a rainforest with a Rottweiler and a little Japanese-American lady with a fondness for spaghetti and meatballs.
CHAPTER 5
Anita had to admit that waking up to the sight and sounds of the ocean was an incredible way to begin the day. The breeze gently lifted the thin white curtains and filled the room with the scent of ocean water and the signature fragrance of the rich Kauai air. Getting up, she also admitted to feeling more relaxed than she ever remembered and she chalked it up to yesterday evening’s incredible massage and the soak afterward in the spa’s heated lava-rock pool. The spa was a resort all to itself, with both private and semiprivate massage areas, an enormous pool and, like everything else on the grounds, it was surrounded by tropical beauty.
Getting up, she walked barefoot onto the veranda. The breeze felt good on her skin. Fat clouds tinted with predawn pinks and mauves hung over the horizon. Today’s agenda would begin with breakfast followed by a helicopter tour. Like the spa and massage, the tour was one of the items on Jane’s to-do list. Anita had never flown in a helicopter but she enjoyed flying, so in a way she was looking forward to it, if only to be able to cross it off the list.
After a shower and a delightful breakfast of quiche and fruit, courtesy of room service, she checked her phone and found a text message from Greg. Smiling, she opened it and read:
Anita. I know this is taking the coward’s way out but I didn’t have the courage to tell you face-to-face. I’m breaking off our engagement so that I can marry Marie Bates, my office mate. She’s everything I want in a wife. She’s smart, spontaneous and a lot of fun. I know I’m going to catch hell from my parents and probably you too for this decision, but she’s the woman I want in my life. I know I’ve hurt you terribly and I hope that one day you can forgive me. Sincerely, Greg.
Wide-eyed, legs weak, she read it again. This had to be a joke, but Greg had no sense of humor whatsoever, so she dropped down into the nearest chair and tried to catch her breath. She was stunned, speechless. For a moment, her entire being seemed to go blank. She read the message again.
A thousand questions filled her mind. How long had he been seeing Marie? How long had he loved her? But in the end it didn’t matter. She’d been dumped by a man she thought she knew; a man she’d called herself in love with since being escorted by him to her deb ball during high school. And now, she’d been kicked to the curb for the smart, spontaneous and lots-of-fun Marie.
Parts of her wanted to strangle him for putting her through this and yes, his mother was going to give him hell. Anita hoped Marie had a tough hide because Sylvia Ford was going to go after her with an elephant gun, and Anita’s mother, Diane, would be handing her the bullets. Anita allowed herself a small smile at the absurdity of the situation. Her mother was going to have a stroke! Her father was going to laugh himself silly.
Personally, Anita was still too stunned to put a name to her own feelings, but honestly, deep inside, there was a sense of relief. Yes she was hurt, humiliated and the rest, but now for maybe the first time in her life, there’d be no Greg pressuring her to find a job on the East Coast or questioning her decisions about what was right for her future. That he’d probably rushed back to the hotel the night they had dinner, not for work but for the woman waiting there, made her furious, but Marie could have him.
Anita had herself and a damn good job. Reality said that she’d grieve the end of this decades-long relationship and she probably would, but for now, she was moving on. Her goal was to get this damn vacation out of the way so she could fly home and do her best to change Jane’s words from considering to recommending. And as for Greg—he could kiss her ass!
She took the time to send her parents word of the broken engagement. Once that was done, she picked up her small cross-shoulder bag and walked through the early sunshine to meet the van taking her to the helicopter tour.
The trip to the airfield was a short one but it seemed like an eternity because the two squabbling children from yesterday and their parents were also in the van. They appeared to be seven or eight—Anita had no real way of gauging their true ages—but it was certain their parents had no control. The boy and girl were going at each other like wet cats in a bag and, no matter how many times the parents implored them to behave, they were ignored.
When the van pulled up to the hangar, she couldn’t wait to get out. She knew from talking with the concierge that the choppers’ sizes varied. Some didn’t have a lot of seating space so she prayed the family would be on a separate flight.
She got her wish, but sometimes it pays to be careful what you ask for. The agent informed her that she would be flying alone and that her pilot would meet her in a few minutes. She thanked the heavens, but her relief was cut short when Steve Blair, wearing the aviators, came striding toward her with a clipboard in his hand.
“So, Counselor, we meet again.”
She raised a perfectly arched brow above her sunglasses. “You’re my pilot?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She sighed audibly and noted he had the nerve to grin—again. He also had the nerve to be even better looking than he’d been on the flight out of L.A., if that was possible. The business khakis had been replaced by green army camo pants with pockets on the legs. His brown, long-sleeved shirt was unbuttoned allowing her to see a white tank with USMC printed on the front. A silver chain around his neck accented the hollow of his bared throat. Realizing she was staring at the space, she quickly raised her gaze.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She swore he was laughing—again. He had a soft voice tinted with a Southern flavor that seemed to reach inside and stroke her soul. Startled by the thought, she shook it off. “Yes.”
“This way.”
As they walked to where the bird sat waiting, Steve didn’t know why seeing her again made him feel so good, but it did. Although she hadn’t said more than a dozen words to him since their initial meeting, he found himself wanting to know what made the prickly lady lawyer tick. From her continued frosty attitude, he doubted such info would be forthcoming, which was one of the reasons he didn’t do high-powered, all-work, no-play women, no matter how gorgeous they were, and she certainly was all that and a bag of chips, but she interested him just the same.
“Are you in Kauai for business or pleasure?”
“Neither.”
That confused him and the look on his face must have relayed that.
“I’m here because my boss thought I needed a vacation.”
“But you begged to differ, I’ll bet.”
“Give the man a cigar. How long does the tour last?”
�
��Depends on what you want to see and sometimes on the weather. If rain moves in, we’ll have to head back.”
“All right.”
“So what do you want to see?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He stopped and folded his arms over his chest. “You really don’t want to be here, do you?”
“No. I have work back in L.A. that needs attention and, even though I’m the one who’s supposed to be handling it, I was told not to call.”
“Which means your boss has your back.”
“Yes, but I don’t like being kept out of the loop.”
He took in the irritation on her face and the tense set of her bare arms in the red sleeveless shirt. Were she his employee, he’d’ve sent her on vacation, too. She was wound up as tight as his grandfather’s old pocket watch. All that stress was liable to kill a girl, but he didn’t say that for fear she’d punch him. “Okay, we’ll see how it goes then.”
It only took a minute for her to climb into the seat beside him and strap on her safety belt. He handed her a set of headphones with a connected mic so she’d be able to hear him over the rotors describing what they were seeing and just in case she had a comment and wanted to talk, which he doubted in light of her attitude.
He went through the preflight safety check and when everything was ready, guided the bird into the air. “We’ll hop over to Kilauea first and say hello to Madam Pele,” he yelled over the drone of the rotors. “No trip to Hawaii is complete without it.” She didn’t reply but he was okay with that.
A short while later they were over the most active volcano in the world. Anita was so awed she didn’t know what to look at first—the gaping maw below with its glowing cauldron center that resembled passage to the underworld, the billowing plumes of smoke, or the creeping fat rivers of slow-moving lava.
You Sang to Me Page 29
