But he forged on. Minutes and hours ticked by as he pried, deleted, and yanked some more. Then he revised and revised and revised. By nightfall, he finally had the bones of something that could be decent. His stomach growled, and Easton glanced at the clock in the bottom corner of his laptop—11:17. He thought of all the loaves of banana bread Lani had baked that morning and wondered if she and Cora had already given them away or if they’d mind if he helped himself to one. After this morning, Lani might, but Cora probably wouldn’t.
He shut his laptop and wandered outside, breathing in the lush, tropical scent that had so often cleansed his mind. When no mind-cleansing came, he sighed. Still, it still felt better to be outside than inside. He trotted down the steps, noting that all the lights were off in the main house. Would the door be open? The kitchen window?
“You’re up late.” Pearl’s voice came out of nowhere, making Easton flinch. He looked over and saw her sitting in the shadows on the main lanai.
“So are you,” he said, walking over to her.
Her hands were clutched loosely together on her lap. “I was waiting for you, actually. I thought you might get hungry for something more than a granola bar.”
A smile lifted his mouth, and it felt good. “You know me too well, I guess. I was just contemplating how I could break into the kitchen and sneak a loaf of bread.”
“You’re in luck.” Pearl reached over and picked up a loaf that had been sitting on the seat next to her. It was wrapped in plastic and looked so good that Easton’s stomach rumbled again.
She held it out to him. “Cora brought me three of these this afternoon. She said Lani had spent the morning trying to rid the island of bananas. I think she tried to stop by the bungalow too, but no one answered.”
“Mahalo,” he said, accepting the bread. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I’ve been… busy.”
“I could tell,” she said. “Will you be leaving soon also?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m thinking tomorrow, actually, assuming there’s a seat available. You headed out as well?”
“Soon,” she said. “There are a few things that need to be straightened out first.”
He had the strangest idea she was referring to him and Lani, but that was ridiculous and Easton wasn’t about to ask for clarification. He looked around and drew in a deep breath.
“I’m going to miss this place.”
Pearl nodded in her understanding way. “I will too. But for me, it will become a fond memory—a part of my past. For you, it could become so much more. It could become part of your future.”
Easton tucked the bread under one arm and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m not so sure about that, Pearl. I messed up.”
She rested her hands on the armrests, then leaned forward and pushed herself up. She took two steps toward him before clasping her fingers together again. “People mess up. It’s what we do, what we’re good at. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed.”
He nodded, knowing the truth of her words, but not feeling them. “I’m trying to fix it, but… if you’d only seen the look on Lani’s face earlier, well… you’d have your doubts too.”
Pearl smiled sympathetically. “I’ve seen lots of pain in my life, but I’ve also seen a lot of joy, and when joy blossoms from pain, it’s more exquisite. Don’t look down on yourself for too long, Easton. It is so much better to look up.”
Easton studied Pearl for a moment, wondering about her history, about what she’d been through, about how she’d become so wise and good and kind. She had never asked what he’d done wrong. Maybe she already knew or maybe she didn’t. It didn’t seem to matter. In her eyes, all downs could become ups if a person wanted it badly enough.
“Mahalo, Pearl. For that”—he held up the loaf of bread—“and this. I’m glad you waited up for me.”
She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Good night, Easton.” Then she walked down the steps, lifted her face to the stars, and sauntered back to her room.
Easton took her advice and looked up on his way back to the bungalow. Thousands of stars glittered in a rich, black sky. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked up at night. He’d done it often in his travels and could point out several constellations—both in the northern hemisphere and the southern. But tonight they looked different to him. Brighter maybe, like they’d been recharged. The feeling seemed to surge down and envelop him, giving him a renewed sense of energy and purpose.
Mahalo, Pearl, he thought as he jogged up the bungalow’s steps.
Once inside, he ate a thick slice of bread before picking up his laptop again. He highlighted all the words he’d spent half the day writing and deleted them. With a white, blank page staring back at him, Easton began anew.
Lani drove to Kahului in the morning. She made sure the fridge was stocked with enough food to feed the guests, then left a note for Puna and headed out. Kapu Aina had been as beautiful and peaceful as always, but everywhere she looked she saw Easton, felt Easton, thought about Easton. She needed to get away from Hāna, to a place that would be free of him, and she might as well pick up some supplies while she was at it.
Since Costco wasn’t yet open, she stopped at Kanaha Beach and let the breeze whip her hair as she watched the windsurfers glide across the water. It probably felt so freeing to fly over the ocean like that. Maybe she should give it a try. It might be a close enough second to soaring.
As the hour neared ten, she brushed the sand from her shorts and drove to the store. She wandered down every aisle, taking her time, and two hours later, she left with a tank full of gas, a truck filled with food and supplies, and a more positive state of mind. She finally felt ready to face Easton again without crumbling.
As she rounded one of the bends on the highway, she could have sworn she saw Easton pass her in his rented black Subaru. But before she could decipher the plates in her rearview mirror, the car disappeared. No, it couldn’t have been him. He would never leave without saying goodbye. He’d promised.
The rest of the way back, Lani’s stomach felt squeamish. And when Puna informed her that Easton had checked out an hour before, squeamish became nauseous. Just like that, he was gone.
You told him to leave, remember? came an annoying voice of reason.
And yet Lani had held onto the hope that until he said goodbye, it wasn’t really over. But he’d broken his promise like he’d broken her trust, heart, and everything else. She shouldn’t be surprised or devastated or anything but grateful.
But she was devastated.
“He left a note on your desk in the office,” Puna said, her voice sympathetic. Then she gave Lani’s arm a squeeze and began unloading the supplies. Her grandmother seemed to understand that Lani would talk when she was ready, and until that time, Puna would wait.
After they’d unloaded the groceries, Lani glanced at the bungalow, knowing she would need to eventually ready it for whatever purpose Puna wanted it to serve after Easton, but she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to walk inside it again. No wonder her grandmother had left the place untouched for so long. Painful memories acted like a force field, keeping people away.
By late afternoon, Lani couldn’t avoid the office any longer. She needed to answer some emails and send out a packet of brochures, so she squared her shoulders and walked inside. She found Pearl there, waiting with her suitcases.
No. Not Pearl too!
“I think I’ve stayed long enough,” said Pearl with a kind smile. “It’s time for me to move on.”
You can’t leave yet! Lani wanted to shout. I need your wisdom now more than ever. I’m not ready for you to go.
That expectation was unfair and selfish, and Lani immediately felt contrite. “I know I’ve told you this already, but I’m going to miss you.”
“Goodbyes are always difficult, especially between good friends,” said Pearl, clasping Lani’s hands between hers. “But don’t worry. Life will go on and things will look up in time. That, I promise.”
> “I hope you’re right.” But Pearl’s leaving felt so final, like it really was over. And if it really was over, then…
“I see someone left a note here for you,” said Pearl, pointing to an envelope with Lani’s name scribbled across the front in masculine ALL CAPS. A silver key sat on top, attached to a key chain with the inscription: “The Bungalow.”
Lani tried to swallow the lump lodged in her throat, but it wouldn’t budge. “Looks like it.”
“Someone once told me that to love a person is to see them for who they really are, then remind them of it when they’ve forgotten. I’ve always thought that was very good advice.”
Before Lani could reply, Pearl pulled her into a quick hug and said, “Goodbye, my dear.” Then she picked up her bags, smiled one last time, and walked out the door. Lani waited for the jingle, but it didn’t come. Pearl had left the way she’d come.
As the silence enveloped her, Lani’s gaze was drawn to the desk where Easton’s note seemed to call out to her, willing her to open it. Her fingers twitched until she snatched up the envelope and tore into it. Inside, she found a handwritten note and a typewritten article.
She read the note first.
Lokelani,
By the time you get this, I’ll be on my way back to Boston. You’re probably thinking I broke my promise and left without saying goodbye, but this isn’t a goodbye. It’s more of a full disclosure.
You’re right that I’ve kept a part of myself hidden from you, and I was wrong to do that. I want you to see the real me—the whole me—and decide for yourself who I really am. Attached is the article I’ve already sent to National Geographic. I hope you read it, and I hope you read some of my blog as well.
I don’t want to close the door on you, so I’m leaving it wide open with the hope that you’ll choose to walk through it one day and give us a second chance.
I will always love you.
Easton
(TravelingEast.com)
P.S. My middle name is Gordon, named after my grandpa.
Lani’s fingers shook as she put down the note and picked up the printout.
Looking Up
by Easton Gordon
I was on the island of São Miguel in the Azores when I first heard I’d been chosen as the recipient for National Geographic’s Traveler of the Year Award. I immediately hiked Pico da Vara, the highest point on the island, and at an elevation of only 3,916 feet, I felt like I was on top of the world and nothing could get me down.
And then I did something many people do when they’re high. I did something stupid. I hosted a contest on my blog and let my readers decide my next destination (which also happened to be the subject for this article). When Maui rose to the top of the survey, I wanted nothing more than to take back my right to choose and pick somewhere else.
Let me explain. Book after book, article after article has already been written about Maui. It’s been done, over and over and over again. How was I, in only three months’ time, supposed to deliver what my blog, TravelingEast, has always promised: A unique experience that most people have never read about before. I knew in my soul I couldn’t.
So it was with major trepidation that I flew to Maui. I spent two days in Kihei, two more in Lahaina, and another in Kaanapali. Everywhere I drove, hiked, and searched was a picture I’d already seen multiple times somewhere else. I couldn’t compete. So I threw a Hail Mary and headed to Hāna, knowing I was putting all of my eggs in a very small basket. 11.7 square miles to be exact. Population 1,235.
It was there I found exactly what I was searching for, though I didn’t know it at the time.
A wise woman once told me that it’s better to look up than down. I used to think I was pretty good at doing that, but in Hāna I was taught to look a little higher—or deeper, I guess you could say.
And when I did, my perspective changed. I saw a rare, Hawaiian Blue butterfly, touched the leaves of a sensitive plant, tasted the world’s most incredible banana bread, learned how to sense the ocean and anticipate a wave, and fell in love with a rose named Lokelani, which happens to be the island flower of Maui. Lani means heavenly in Hawaiian, and it’s the perfect description. The flower is beautiful and soft, wild and lively, and smells like sunshine. Someday, I hope to explain on my blog why I’m so fascinated with that flower, but for now that secret stays with me.
I used to think that all Maui had to offer was the commonly known beauties like Haleakalā, the Seven Sacred Pools, and Kaanapali Beach. It wasn’t until I’d spent the majority of the summer in Hāna that I realized the discoveries here are endless. If you come in search of an adventure, you’ll find it. If you come to learn something new, you will. If you’re looking for a break from the grind of daily living, welcome to Maui, a place that offers you, me—everyone—the chance to take home something that will be uniquely yours and yours alone. Maybe it will be the burning image of a spectacular sunset, the awe of experiencing a Brocken spectre, or the sensation of a sea turtle’s flippers tickling your back as it swims past. Whatever it is, you can’t come to Maui and not look up.
Ever so slowly, Lani set down the article. She ignored the invoices, the reservations waiting to be confirmed, the brochures needing to be stuffed and mailed, and the message light blinking on the phone. She pulled up the internet, typed in “TravelingEast.com,” and waited what felt like an eternity for it to load. A beautiful and professional website appeared with Easton’s picture at the top. His handsome face smiled at her, making her heart lurch and hope and even heal a bit.
Then she began reading. She learned that Easton’s “pen name” was Easton Gordon. She learned that he enjoyed getting to know the locals. He’d run races, attended celebrations, helped rebuild a church in Taiwan that had burned down, and even coached a soccer team in Peru. He seemed to love every place he’d visited, from congested cities to primitive towns, but he was definitely a fan of the great outdoors.
As the hours rolled by, Lani was reminded of what had drawn her to Easton in the first place—his sense of humor, his laid-back personality, his charm and charisma. If she’d stumbled across his blog before she knew him, she would have been sucked in just like the rest of his readers. He had a gift for storytelling and viewing the world with acceptance and respect.
As evening approached, Lani had reached Easton’s third year of traveling. Even though her eyes were bleary and her stomach rumbling, Lani still couldn’t turn away. It read like a novel that she couldn’t put down until the end. Only with the blog, she was reading to find out how it all began.
That’s when Puna found her.
“Ah, here you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What’s that you’re reading?”
“Easton’s travel blog,” said Lani, sounding more like a robot than human. Her emotions were all over the place. If she poured them into a large bowl and mixed them all together to balance them out, the end result might not feel like anything.
Eyes still on the computer screen, Lani said, “He wrote about Kapu Aina, you know—with details, pictures, directions, everything. He got to know us so he could discover our secrets, then he was planning to publish it in a national magazine and tell the world.”
Lani twisted in her seat and looked at her grandmother—really looked at her. What would Puna think of Easton now? More than anything, Lani wanted to do as Pearl suggested and see past this, but every time she thought of how he’d used her and her friends and what he could have done, a throb began in her gut and spread through her body. Trust was key to any relationship. Without it…
Puna dragged over a chair and sat down. She took her granddaughter’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you refer to yourself as one of the locals.”
Lani rubbed her bleary eyes with her free hand. “That’s what you got out of my comment? Didn’t you hear the part about Easton writing about Kapu Aina?”
“I also heard you say the word ‘was.’ I take it he’s changed his mind about
publishing the article?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.” Puna patted Lani’s hand. “He listened, he reevaluated, and he changed his mind because he cares about you, mea aloha. People make mistakes. It’s how they go about fixing them that matters.”
Lani drew her lower lip into her mouth and nodded. “Did you and Kuku Kane ever argue?”
“Heavens, yes,” said her grandmother with a laugh. “Early on in our marriage, every so often he would disappear into the mountains without telling me where he was going or when he’d be back. Sometimes he was gone for hours. Others, overnight. He called it soul-searching. Then one day, he left and didn’t return for two days. Two days! I was certain he’d been bitten by a poisonous spider or fell off a cliff or something horrible. I called everyone I knew and was busy organizing a search when he’d finally searched his soul enough to wander back home. I was madder than an angry bee and told him that if he ever did that to me again, he’d come home to an empty house. From that point on, he never left without telling me, and he was never gone for more than twenty-four hours again.”
Lani smiled at the story.
How much had changed in so short a time. Like a strong riptide in the ocean, the summer had swept her up and carried her to a place far from where she’d started. Although it felt unchartered and scary, as she looked below the surface, Lani could see a world brimming with life, hope, and possibilities. All she had to do was take a deep breath and dive.
Lani smoothed her palms along the fabric of her shorts, feeling a nervous energy that made her fidgety. “Puna, if I get everything organized and make sure we have enough supplies on hand, how would you feel about holding down the fort for a few days?”
Her grandmother’s eyes crinkled at the corners, as did her mouth. “I’d say things are already organized, and we have more than enough supplies, thanks to your frequent runs to Costco. Perhaps tomorrow would be a great time to show Maaike around and teach her a thing or two about the business.”
Not Always Happenstance (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 19
