Hawaiian Crosswinds

by Linda Chaikin

  She watched through blurred vision as he got into the buggy and flicked the reins.

  The horse drew the buggy down the road into the shadows and out of view.

  An ultimatum!

  Inside Kalihi Hospital, her ears filled with the roaring wind and the slashing rain on the windowpane, Eden thought her heart would splinter like glass and explode into a thousand pieces.

  When she reached the nurses’ retreat, a small room off the main hall, she was so emotionally exhausted that she nearly stumbled inside. She was relieved to see that Lana wasn’t there. She had time to be alone, to think … to recover.

  Still … he insulted everything between them when he simply rode away without offering a clearer explanation for his anger with her.

  It hurt deeply that the one man she loved more than any other accused her of not trusting him. But Rafe told her that he would allow her to fulfill the dream of a lifetime of struggle—to meet her mother, and to work alongside her father in his research clinic for a year—though he was not at all pleased with the decision.

  Eden felt the old dismay sweep through her like a gale.

  Well! If that’s the way he feels about it, then so be it. I’ll let him go just as coldly as he turned and walked away from me.

  She looked at her image in the small mirror above the wash basin, searching her face as a stranger might. A girl stared back, pale except for the emotional pink in her cheeks.

  She pressed her lips together firmly. She was sorely tempted to stamp her feet in frustration. Instead, she pushed aside a dark curl that had come down in the wind at the back of her head. Be calm. Her fingers trembled. A sign that not all was right in her heart.

  She loved him.

  She smothered a cry of rage and, grabbing the big yellow flower from the bowl, crushed it and hurled it in the trash container.

  A saintly missionary was she? Self-controlled and forebearing? Oh how wrong they were who believed this! Perhaps Rafe was right after all. She wasn’t emotionally ready for marriage. She wasn’t ready to be a suffering missionary on Molokai either. Only Christ knew her weakness and failure.

  She turned away from her image, her hands gripping the table, allowing the tears to break as a fountain. Thank God no one was here to see her fail like this.

  She walked to a chair and collapsed dejectedly into it, allowing the tears of frustration to follow their course. Life without Rafe was unimaginable.

  The wind slammed the rain relentlessly against the windows.

  Chapter Seven

  Zachary’s Storm

  After leaving Eden at the hospital, Rafe returned to the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. He had settled on the idea of reserving his own suite soon after he discovered that his responsibilities in the Legislature, along with political strategy sessions with the Reform Party, often called for his personal presence and the necessity for late hours. A nearby suite reduced the need for time-consuming boat trips to and from Hanalei on the Big Island.

  He was in a grim mood as he entered the room. No matter how strong the emotional bond with Eden, he was determined to restrain his emotions and press onward toward the crisis in San Francisco. He had a calling of his own to solve and he meant to accomplish it. With cool deliberation he emptied his pockets—and dropped the clutter on the table with a deliberate clink.

  The clock was ticking. He walked across the polished floor with its thick rug to the writing desk.

  He must wire a message to Parker Judson in the morning. Tonight, he would send one to Ainsworth Derrington and pay the errand boy to deliver it at once.

  Confident of his decision he wrote swiftly. His bold handwriting darkened the white stationery.

  Dear Sir,

  As you will be at Iolani Palace in the morning to meet with the queen, it’s important I speak with you as soon as you arrive. Ambrose received a wire from Celestine. Townsend is in San Francisco. He’s been prowling about Parker Judson’s house. My mother and the boy Kip are staying with Mr. Judson, as you know. Action on our part is essential. I have decided to accept your earlier suggestion to join you and members of the Reform party on the trip to the mainland, but I plan to remain in San Francisco while you and Thurston go by train to Washington D.C. to meet with Secretary of State Blaine. Rafe Easton, Royal Hawaiian Hotel

  Earlier, Rafe had sought for a way to decline the trip to Washington in order to fulfill his obligation to supervise the plantations and attend the Legislature, but because he held Parker Judson’s seat he’d been requested to join the Thurston committee. He now recognized a door of opportunity. The steamer would first stop in San Francisco. Thurston and Ainsworth were to meet for a day or two in the Bay city with the controversial California sugar king, Claus Spreckels, before boarding a train for Washington. Rafe could take care of the adoption of Kip and look into the matter of Townsend.

  He went downstairs. The chandeliers and lamps were all aglow like a cache of reflective diamonds. Having sealed the envelope and paid the errand boy with the promise of more upon his successful return, Rafe went back to his suite.

  As he opened the door, across the room he glimpsed a man beginning to rise from a chair. The lamp beside the chair was dimmed, and a tall potted banana plant cast large leafy shadows. The man crouched, then grabbed the back of the chair.

  Rafe already had his jacket off when a familiar voice said clumsily, “That you, Rafe?”

  Rafe halted, exasperated, leaning a shoulder against the door. “Do you have to hide in the shadows like that?” he growled.

  Zachary Derrington, Rafe’s stepbrother through Celestine’s marriage to Townsend, and Eden’s blood cousin, blinked as he finally managed to turn up the lamplight.

  He and Zach were nearly the same age. They grew up as opponents due to Zach’s perpetual warfare. Matters had changed between them since Zachary had come to Christ almost two years ago, but the tension occasionally remained as an old holdover.

  “Oh. Sorry.” He frowned. “Well, the door was unlocked,” he said defensively. He pointed to the lamp beside the overstuffed chair. “You’re the one who lowered this light—” he stopped, and smiled ruefully. “I should have spoken up. Sorry.”

  Rafe laughed. “Have a seat.”

  Zach, a tall, fair young man with a cleft in his chin, looked more like his father, Townsend, than did Silas. Throughout Zachary’s young adulthood the rivalry to win Eden’s affections away from Rafe was relentless, and until recently, bitter. At the time, Zachary did not believe that Eden was his blood cousin. When the fact of her birth to Jerome became obvious, Zachary did an about-face and was now fixated on marrying Bernice “Bunny” Judson, Parker’s niece.

  Even when Zachary was troublesome, Rafe looked out for him, granting him latitude. Since childhood Zachary had manifested disturbances of one sort or another, some troubling enough that he’d been under a doctor’s care. Fortunately, since his troubled soul had come to Christ, he’d shown extended periods of a more genial personality. Now, however, with so much anxiety over Silas, and Townsend’s bullying, there were new episodes when he became distraught and used the medication prescribed by Dr. Bolton.

  “Wind too heavy for the houseboat?” Rafe asked with a sly smile.

  Zach had taken to spending much of his time living on his boat rather than going out to Kea Lani, much as Rafe had taken a suite at the hotel to avoid the same longer ride past Kea Lani, the mission church, and to Hawaiiana.

  For Rafe there was a second reason that he rarely stayed at Hawaiiana now. He had built what was called the Great House for Eden and it would be a very long time before they lived there together, if ever. He disliked entering the silent domain that echoed with his footsteps.

  Zachary groaned. “That wind is murder—and speaking of murder,” he looked up, his silvery-blue eyes tense, “I’ve got something important to talk about. That’s why I came. Got any coffee?”

  Rafe tilted his dark head and his eyes measured Zach. He rang for coffee, then turned his attention back. Unless he’d se
en Ambrose or Keno in the last hour, and it wasn’t likely, he could not have heard the news that Townsend was sighted in San Francisco. What troubled him then? He couldn’t be serious about murder.

  It was only when Zach moved a trifle clumsily into the light that Rafe had his answer—or part of it. He noticed damp dirt smudges on Zach’s fashionable shirt front and, worse, what looked like dried blood on the collar below his right ear.

  Rafe moved over to where Zach sat in the chair and drew the lamp closer. “What happened?”

  Zach touched the side of his golden head. His icy blue eyes reflected bewilderment. “I’ve got a knot on my head the size of a coconut.”

  “I can see that. How did you acquire it?”

  “I’ll explain—I need that coffee first … you don’t realize how my head throbs.”

  Rafe narrowed his gaze. “On second thought, we’d better brave the wind and visit Dr. Jerome again.”

  “No!” He snapped to his feet. Zach’s impulsive response came as if a Chinese firecracker exploded in the room.

  Rafe considered Zachary’s relationship with his uncle Jerome, and knew it to be on solid footing. No trouble there, at least that Rafe knew about. Jerome was even sympathetic toward Zachary’s concerns about the arrival of Silas, which Zach saw as an outrageous intrusion into his life.

  “I’ll—be okay.” Zach touched his head again. “This isn’t worse than being thrown from that stallion. Thought I’d broken my neck that time.”

  They both had thought so. Rafe and Zachary were horse enthusiasts, and enjoyed breeding fine horses. Now that Eden posed no jealous threat, they enjoyed friendly competition over who had the best stallions and mares.

  “Sit down, Zach. There’s no ice here, but I can ring to make sure.”

  Rafe did so, and decided he owed it to Zachary to hear the facts, keeping Zach calm and his own doubts restrained. His decision came to an abrupt halt as the bellboy delivered the coffee.

  “Sorry sir, no ice. But the manager says pouring wine on a cut will help it heal faster.”

  “Bring a bottle.”

  “Yes sir. I brought one.”

  When the boy left, Zachary was still sitting, leaning his head in his hands. Rafe used the wine to clean the wound behind his ear and temple. Rafe was relieved that he hadn’t been keen on going down to Kalihi Hospital where Eden was on duty, or calling for Jerome to come to the hotel.

  Rafe poured the coffee and handed him a cup, ignoring Zachary’s eye wandering over the wine bottle. They’d come to physical blows once when younger, again over Eden, after Zachary had come from some wild party on the beach. To his credit, Zachary hadn’t touched the bottle since Eden brought him to Christ.

  Rafe learned through the years that the wisest attitude when dealing with Zachary was a restrained demeanor, even when Rafe felt anything but coolheaded. He lifted his cup and sampled the coffee made from his own Kona coffee beans, which had been sold to the hotel and brewed by the chef.

  Rafe had given a generous sample of his Kona beans to the hotel manager. Compliments had come from the guests on the “wonderful coffee flavor” and now management requested regular orders of beans from Hanalei Plantation. He tried to ease the tension by casual conversation until Zach was ready to explain what happened to him.

  “I’ve been thinking I could hire someone to market the coffee to the other hotels, including those in San Francisco.”

  Zachary gave a brief nod, looking glum. “Good idea. I wish now I had taken my education in agriculture. Grandfather gave Silas management rights of the sugar. Says he knows it better than I do. And my journalism for Great-aunt Nora doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. Unless I could inherit the Gazette, or buy it from her to establish my own paper, I don’t know where I want to take the future. If it wasn’t for Silas!”

  “Silas can’t impede you. No one can, unless you give up. Maybe it’s time to reconsider your future by surrendering it to the Lord. Maybe He has a different plan.”

  Rafe walked over to his luggage and dug out a small bottle. Kalihi Hospital was typewritten on the label. He looked over his shoulder at Zachary. If he refused to see Dr. Jerome, then he needed help.

  “Here, take two of these with more coffee.” He tossed the bottle to Zach.

  Zachary scowled and squinted to read the writing on the bottle. “What are they?”

  “Eden gave them to me a month ago. They stop a headache, dead.”

  “Sure it’s not more of what Nora took from Dr. Bolton?”

  Rafe looked at him sharply. “What? Why did you say that?”

  “Poor joke. Sorry.”

  “No, I mean, why did you think of Nora’s medicine bottle?”

  Zachary rubbed his forehead, holding the bottle. He frowned, turning it over in his hand again and again.

  “Same kind of bottle … same kind of white pills …”

  “Wait, you saw Nora’s medicine bottle and what was inside?”

  “Sure. Both at Hawaiiana when Eden brought it to her from Kalihi, then again at Koko Head.”

  “At Koko Head,” he repeated. But that was impossible—if Nora tossed the bottle as she said she did. “They were pills?”

  “Pills. The bottle was sitting on her bedstand at Koko Head. I picked it up and shook it. They rattled. She got upset.”

  Rafe’s heart thudded. He walked over to the chair. “She was in bed?”

  He nodded. “She was still sick from that overdose we blamed on my father,” he said of Townsend, his voice tightening with resentment toward his father as he spoke his name.

  Rafe considered the new information. “This then was before Eden and Dr. Jerome arrived with you on the boat?”

  He nodded briefly and winced, hand going to his head again. “‘Leave that alone,’ Nora snapped at me. Almost bit my hand off when she snatched the bottle away. She stuffed it under her pillow.”

  Rafe stared at him, but his mind saw Nora at Tamarind House—heard her claim to throw away the medicine because it was “rancid.” Could it be Nora had retained the medication after all, and concocted that story of tossing it? It would fit Nora. No dim “little old lady” was Nora Derrington, but smart, quick on the uptake, and independent in her decisions. If she had suspected she’d been poisoned and kept the medication—

  Zachary obediently popped two pills in his mouth and swallowed.

  Then Nora must still have that incriminating bottle.

  Zachary looked at Rafe, troubled.

  “What did you mean a minute ago about the need to call for Dr. Jerome—again?”

  It took a minute for Rafe to put a clamp on his excitement over learning about the medicine bottle and bring his mind back to the problem at hand. He walked over to the table and picked up his coffee cup. He stared at it, calming his emotions. After a moment he explained the Oliver-and-Keno incident, safely defusing the moment’s intensity.

  “Oliver’s a strange fellow,” Zachary mused. “He’s very pro-British, you know. I’ve wondered why he didn’t take his education in England instead of Harvard.”

  Rafe glanced at him. “Thaddeus H. wouldn’t like it too much if he knew his son preferred the Union Jack.”

  “I’ll say! He doesn’t know. Sometimes I don’t think Oliver even loves my cousin, but his father approves of the Derrington name, just as Grandfather Ainsworth approves of Hunnewell. The engagement is next week you know. Candace is a cold fish about the whole thing.”

  Rafe thought the same. “There’s something suspicious about that engagement. Why was it she pressed ahead to see Keno these last couple of years and didn’t care what others thought about it? She’s one woman who makes up her own mind about things, regardless.”

  “True.”

  “Yet suddenly, she breaks off with Keno, refuses to see him or even respond to his questions, and is going through with the engagement to Hunnewell next week. Doesn’t that ring false to you?”

  “Now that you put it like that, yes.” Zachary leaned his head back against the cha
ir.

  Rafe glanced at the time. “Okay, Zach. Let’s have the facts. Before those pills send you to slumber land. What happened to you?”

  “Right.” Zach drew in a breath, drank from his cup, and began.

  “You know how I’m suspicious of Silas being involved with the gambling cartel. You know it, everyone does. Grandfather Ainsworth and Great-aunt Nora are upset with me about it. Well, I’ve got facts now. Not exact proof yet, mind you, but that will come too. Just you wait and see the fireworks I’m going to unleash before this is over.” He told Rafe about following Silas earlier in the evening.

  His ice-blue eyes hardened.

  Zachary leaned forward. “I’m going to talk Nora into sending me to San Francisco as an investigative reporter for the Gazette. I’m going to dig up everything I can about Silas and his rosy past as a journalist.”

  I’d better not mention Townsend is there now.

  Rafe stood looking down at him, arms folded. “You’ll have difficulty convincing Nora to send you. As you say, she’s supportive of Silas. She won’t like it if she thinks your intention in going there is to stir up more trouble.”

  “I’ve got another reason for going, too. One she does support.”

  The sudden wistful expression on Zachary’s face tugged Rafe’s mouth into an amused smile. Bernice “Bunny” Judson, of course. Zachary was right, though. Nora did approve of his interest in Bunny rather than Claudia Hunnewell.

  “So,” Rafe edged him back on the trail. “You followed Silas tonight to a gambling house in the Rat Alley district. You say Silas didn’t go inside. He stood around for a while, then walked toward Kalihi Hospital.” Rafe managed to sound casual.

  “Right. Then he stood around some more, just as if he were waiting for someone.”

  “You’re certain this man was Silas? You saw his face?”

  “I didn’t need to see his face. It was Silas. He even looks like a gambler.”

  “I don’t know what a gambler is supposed to look like. You didn’t see his face but you’re sure it was Silas.”