“Will you please stop teasing your poor mother?” said his father. “You’ve given her more gray hairs during the past eight years than all three of your sisters combined, and that’s saying something.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Easton said contritely.
Still listening in, Lani leaned her head against the railing. She liked getting to know his family this way, when they could be themselves and not worry about impressing or inspecting The Development.
“A few weeks ago, you were still stressing about that article. What did you finally decide to write about?” his father asked.
“A place the locals call Kapu Aina. You have to jump off three waterfalls to get there, but it’s incredible. A natural hot springs, cascading falls, and an off-the-beaten-path swimming hole surrounded by a paradisiacal jungle. The cherry on top? It’s never been written about before, at least not that I can find.”
Lani slowly lifted her head as a cold chill ran down her back. Kapu Aina? His article was about her Kapu Aina? Ahe’s Kapu Aina? Her friends’ Kapu Aina?
Please no.
“I’m telling you, when National Geographic runs the article, the exposure I’ll get will be epic. And if my page views increase by the amount that I’m thinking they could, I’ll be able to double my advertising fees.”
National Geographic? He was a writer for National Geographic? He was a travel reporter? Lani gripped the post as the pounding in her heart reverberated in her head. Voices faded to the background as thoughts, questions, and accusations thudded through her mind.
What had he written in that article? Had he documented how to get there? Taken pictures? No, he couldn’t have. It had been too dark and she would have noticed.
And then it hit her. The week after the hike, he hadn’t gone MIA because he’d been avoiding her. He’d been doing his homework. He’d probably gone back to the place they’d parked and retraced their steps, taken a myriad of pictures, and hand-picked the best ones to go with his article, along with directions on where to park, possibly even a map. Would her once-sacred Kapu Aina soon become a popular tourist destination?
Her stomach lurched, and Lani leaned forward, feeling like she might heave at any moment. It was because of her that Ahe had invited Easton. All because of her.
She’d unwittingly let Easton use her. No wonder he’d been so secretive about his work, why he’d wanted an invite to Ahe’s potluck, to all the parties and get-togethers, the surfing, fishing… Kapu Aina. All this time, Lani had flattered herself into thinking it was because he was interested in her, when in reality, he’d wanted an “in” to the local’s hot spots.
How could she have been so blind? How could she have fallen so hard for someone who…
A searing pain registered in her forehead, and Lani pressed her fist against it, hoping for some relief. None of this made any sense. She and Easton had talked of building a future together. They’d made plans. He’d told her he loved her and had just told his parents about her. Was any of that true?
Yes.
Lani had seen the truth of it in his eyes, felt it in his touch. His article was already written, and yet he was still here, planning a future with her—the woman he was about to betray. How could he? He knew how much Kapu Aina meant to her, to Ahe’s family, to her friends. How could he possibly be okay with sharing that with the rest of the world?
Apparently Easton Allard wasn’t the man she thought he was. If he really cared about her—about anyone—he wouldn’t even think of doing this to her and the people she loved. Based on his relationship with his family, Lani thought he understood the meaning of love, loyalty, and friendship, but he couldn’t, not really—not if he was willing to barter it all for money and recognition and whatever else he hoped to achieve.
Maybe the only person Easton really cared about was himself.
The pain struck deep inside Lani’s soul, attacking and destroying, crushing and breaking, molding her heart into a lifeless crater.
Words from Tennyson echoed in her ears. ’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
What a lie.
From inside the bungalow, Easton laughed, and more voices joined the conversation. Lani couldn’t listen any longer. She pulled herself up and stumbled down the hill, furious at Easton for what he’d done and was about to do.
At the bottom, Pearl stood just outside the door, smelling the orchids. She looked up to see Lani rush past, but she didn’t ask questions or say anything. She let Lani run inside and hide behind the closed door of her bedroom.
Thirty minutes later, a knock sounded.
“Lani,” said her grandmother. “Easton’s here to see you. Everything okay?”
Lani swallowed the lump in her throat and continued to stare at her bedroom ceiling, forcing her words to remain even as she answered. “I think I’m coming down with something. Would you tell him I’ll talk to him tomorrow?”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry to hear that. Can I get you anything?”
“I just need some sleep.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Yes.”
A pause and then her footsteps padded away. Murmuring voices sounded, a door closed, and her grandmother’s footsteps returned, pausing for a few moments outside her door before moving on.
Lani sighed in relief. She couldn’t talk to anyone right now—not even Puna. Every part of her body throbbed from a pain that came from deep inside. She stared at the ceiling until the light coming through the cracks in her door flickered off and silence reigned. Around one o’clock, she wiped away the last of her tears and curled into a ball on her side, but it wasn’t until sometime between three and four that she finally fell asleep.
When the morning light crept in her bedroom window and woke her up, she dragged herself to the shower, hoping that would help. When it didn’t, she found her way to the office, desperate for a distraction.
The first email she opened was a cancellation for the Akua room for that afternoon. An hour later, when Pearl breezed in, looking as beautiful and put-together as always, and announced she’d decided to stay for a day or two longer, Lani wasn’t surprised at all.
“I’m glad you’re staying, Pearl. I really am,” Lani said. “But if the reason you’re staying is why I think it is, there’s really no point.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m staying because I’m hoping to see the Orange Frost Banksia bloom before I go.”
Lani didn’t have it in her to inform Pearl that the flower wouldn’t be in bloom for another month or two at least. Instead, she clicked Delete on the cancellation and said, “For you, I’m sure it will.”
Lani was in the kitchen, baking, when Easton walked in and closed the door, folding his arms across his chest. Lani hated that her heart constricted, mourned, and crumbled all over again.
“You’re avoiding me again.”
Lani finished pouring the batter into the bread pan, then slid the three loaves into the oven. “I don’t feel good, that’s all.”
He moved toward her, arms still folded. “Sick people stay in bed. They don’t get up at the crack of dawn, lock themselves in their office for hours, then bake”—he glanced around at all the loaves of banana bread lined up in neat rows across the counter and island—“five dozen loaves of bread.”
“There’s only three dozen,” Lani corrected.
He closed the distance between them and placed his hands on her shoulders, which she quickly shrugged off. Then she walked to the other side of the island, keeping it between them.
“What’s going on?” he asked, taking a few steps back. “Yesterday afternoon we were talking about you coming home to meet my family and now you won’t even let me touch you. And don’t give me some lame excuse about not feeling well. The truth, please.”
The demand was enough to ignite Lani’s ire. “You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, well good. Because so do I.”
Crinkle lines appeared on his
forehead. “Am I missing something?”
“No. But you made sure I did. Otherwise you would have told me you were working on an article for National Geographic and decided to make it about Kapu Aina. I heard everything last night. If you wanted to keep that conversation private, you should have closed your windows.”
Lani had expected a reaction of surprise, guilt, possibly even remorse. Instead he blinked at her then lifted his palms in a gesture that said, And the problem is…?
“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?” he finally asked.
“Yes… I mean no… I mean—yes! I’m mad that you weren’t honest with me from the get-go, but mostly I’m upset that you wrote about Kapu Aina. It’s a special place to all of us here because it’s one of the few remaining spots that hasn’t been tarnished by tourism. We trusted you enough to show it to you, and now you’re about to betray that trust and take Kapu Aina away from us—from me. How could you?” Tears threatened to come yet again, making Lani more angry. She’d cried enough over this already.
Easton held up a hand as though trying to calm her down. “Lani, Kapu Aina isn’t yours. It isn’t Ahe’s. It isn’t anyone else’s. It’s on public land.”
“The only way out is through private land—through a friend’s property who allows us to use it, not a bunch of tourists.”
“The shortest and easiest way out is through private land. But if you continue to follow the river down for another mile or so, then head directly south for another mile, you can stay on public land.”
Lani’s entire body trembled. She had never wanted to punch someone as much as she wanted to punch him in that moment. “What did you do, go back and map it all out? Take a bunch of pictures so people can find their way without getting lost?”
“That’s exactly what I did.”
Her fingers tightened into fists and her jaw clenched. “And you didn’t have a problem doing that? No twinge of conscience? No guilt? No thought about how wrong it is?”
Easton planted his palms on the island and met her gaze directly. “Lani, tourism isn’t an annoyance that only exists on Maui. Any beautiful, unique, or rare find that is shared with the world becomes a destination for people who want to see it as well. The Grand Canyon, the Aogashima Volcano, Glow Worm Cave, Ha Long Bay, Giant’s Causeway—the list goes on and on. Even my favorite little hike back in Boston was posted about on Facebook, Instagrammed, and linked on Pinterest. It’s been years since I could hike that trail without running into a bunch of families or trail-runners or pet-owners taking their dog out for a jaunt. It’s called sharing.”
Lani jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare make me the bad guy here. You knew exactly what you were doing the moment you decided to come here. That’s why you were so secretive and mysterious—because you also knew that if I, or any of the locals, found out you travel writer, you would have never gotten more than an aloha from any of us.”
“I told you that I wrote about my experiences.”
“Yeah, in such a vague way that I was led to believe that you wrote about cultures, about people, about the aloha spirit and life in Hawaii. You never once told me you worked for National Geographic.”
“I don’t. I’m only writing one article for them, and only because I won their traveler of the year award. The prize was an all-expenses paid trip to anywhere in the world, along with a two-page spread in their magazine.”
Lani pounded her palm into the counter. “Why did you have to choose Maui? Why?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I would never have chosen Maui—not in a million years. But I made the mistake of letting my readers decide for me, thinking it would drive up my page views if I got them involved, which it did, so here I am.”
“All I heard was that you care more about your bottom line than people.”
“Of course I care about my bottom line,” he said, his voice rising. “And I’m willing to bet that you do too. We have to care. It’s called survival and self-reliance and finding a way to support whatever lifestyle we choose for ourselves. Do you know why I got chosen as traveler of the year? Because I had the courage to walk away from a normal life and make traveling a career. I started off as an international house-sitter to save on accommodations. I picked up odd jobs anywhere I could get them, whether it was shoveling manure and feeding animals or donning a conical hat and picking rice in the fields of Cambodia. During the hours I didn’t work, I met people, I explored cities, towns, country sides, oceans, and wrote about my experiences.
“I started a blog and began journaling everything, posting pictures of places not yet published on the internet, and as I did, I started to gain a following. Gradually, my readership grew big enough so companies are now willing to pay me to advertise on my site. I also make a little through affiliate links, through connecting people to house-sitting opportunities, and I’ve published a few ebooks. But all of that added together still barely pays the bills. So now I’m flirting with the idea of starting a sort of side business—a social media consulting firm to teach others what I’ve learned over the past several years. Because it’s not about just me anymore. It’s about you, too. Which is also why this National Geographic article is so important. It will open so many doors for me—for us—doors that need to open if we’re going to make this work. So yeah, I care about the bottom line, but not more than people, and definitely not more than you.”
I don’t believe you, Lani wanted to shout. Actions speak louder than words. She felt like she’d just taken off the mask of a hero to find a villain underneath. “I feel like all this time you’ve pretended to be something you’re not, and that’s who I fell in love with—the pretend version of you.”
He lifted his palms then slapped them down again for emphasis. “Give me a break. You know exactly who I am. Yes, I was evasive about what I did for a living because I know the people here are fiercely protective of what few secrets they have left, and I understand why they are. I, too, was annoyed when someone first posted about my favorite hike. But once I got over that, instead of hearing noise and seeing crowds and footprints and people getting in my way, I saw smiling faces of kids looking at something besides a TV or computer screen. I saw parents shoving their phone into their pockets and interacting with their kids, couples holding hands, and pets being taken for walks. I saw joy and peace and a greater appreciation for nature. I saw life.”
Tears pooled in Lani’s eyes. She shook her head, feeling like he was refusing to understand something that he should know better than anyone else. “The people of Hawaii are the most kind and giving people I have ever met. They’d give you the shirt off their back if they thought you needed it. So don’t make this about selfishness because it’s not about that, and you know it. It’s about preserving a place that is special to them and special to me. When Kapu Aina is quiet and calm, you feel a connection to the land that you could never feel with people swarming and talking and laughing around you. Maui has given tourists the Pipiwai trail, the pools at Ohe’o, Hamoa, and the black and red sand beaches, and countless other places. They don’t need Kapu Aina too. But we do.” Lani’s resolve broke and tears fell freely from her eyes. “Why can’t you understand that?”
The silence squeezed in around her, pushing against her body and thudding in her head. Every inch of Lani ached. Her head, her body, her spirit—but mostly, her heart. It felt shredded and misshapen and worn, as though Easton had taken it in his fist and crumpled the life out of it.
“I don’t want to lose you over this,” he finally said, his voice sounding like background noise to all the thrumming in her head.
Lani closed her eyes, unable to look at him any longer. “Your article is finished,” she said. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“You can’t mean that.” She heard him move and felt his presence at her side, but he didn’t try to touch her.
She gripped the counter harder and squeezed her eyes tighter closed. Go away. Please, just go away, she chanted over and over in her mind.
> Finally, he did. His presence faded away, the door opened and closed, and the smell of burning banana bread filled her senses.
Lani quickly shut off the oven, yanked open the door, and tossed the ruined bread and the pans into the garbage can, then bolted out the back door. Right now, she needed Kapu Aina more than ever—and she’d escape there before it became overrun with visitors.
Easton returned from a lengthy, emotionally-purging run and grabbed a sports drink from the mini-fridge in the bungalow. He guzzled it, then looked out the window to the beautiful scenery beyond, feeling a strange sense of claustrophobia.
His gaze landed on his laptop, and he sighed. Even though he’d presented his case like any good lawyer would have done, he’d also withheld a few things—like how he’d wrestled with his decision to write about Kapu Aina, how he’d battled to contain the torrent of words that flowed from his mind about it, and how he’d rationalized that inspiration like that wouldn’t have come if it was wrong to publish it.
He’d told his parents it needed one more revision, but it didn’t. Every word was exactly where it needed to be. Easton could have emailed it to the editor days ago, if not for the one thing that had held him back.
Lani.
When she’d finally confronted him about it, Easton had almost been relieved. He’d been trying to figure out a way to tell her all weekend, but the right moment never happened. So he was glad to finally get it out in the open—to tell his side and hope she’d see things the way he did. Unfortunately, it had all backfired, and now he was left with a decision to make. Actually, it wasn’t a decision at all.
His feet dragging, Easton treaded across the room and picked up his laptop. He sat down, lifted the screen from the keyboard, and read through the article one last time before exiting out of it. Then he clicked New Document, and a blank page appeared. He stared at it for five full minutes before he began writing.
This time, the words didn’t flow at all. Easton had to pry them from his brain like an unripe berry from a plant. That’s how they read too—unripe, broken, and all wrong.
Not Always Happenstance (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 18
