Hawaiian Crosswinds

by Linda Chaikin

  “That’s the best news I’ve had all week. This hasn’t been a good week, with that murdered Chinese man discovered in your garden, Rafe. Murder and mayhem are enough to upset the young, let alone a woman of my particular age.”

  Rafe, in spite of himself, felt affection rise for the vinegary lady.

  “I was taught that getting old meant wisdom,” Rafe said, and then caught his error but it was too late. She pounced on him with a rebuke.

  “Old? Posh! My soul is as youthful now as it was at twenty. And, young man, I’ll remind you I was quite a good-looking girl in my day.”

  Rafe smiled. She amused him most times. “I’ve no doubt, madam.”

  “And I’ll have you know I could have had a number of the finest men in the Islands. But none of them stirred my romantic fancies. Actually,” and she cast him a side glance, “I rather liked your grandfather Daniel.”

  Rafe lifted a brow. “What happened?”

  “Oh, he married a missionary girl who came out from Boston, I believe it was.”

  “His loss, surely.”

  Nora laughed. “Diplomatic, aren’t you. Zachary ought to learn some of your manners.” She looked over at Zachary, who stood amused by the conversation between his great-aunt and Rafe.

  “Now as for you, young man. No wonder you can’t get Bernice Judson’s heart. You’re not well mannered enough. You need to be suave and charming.”

  Rafe looked at him.

  Zachary’s mouth turned. “It isn’t my manners; when it comes to Bernice, it’s Claudia Hunnewell and Grandfather’s meddling. Claudia’s already running to him, complaining that I won’t give her an engagement ring before I leave for San Francisco. I expect I’ll be reprimanded today on offending Thaddeus’s daughter.”

  “Claudia,” Nora scoffed. “That girl is a goose. Silly. No mental sagacity.”

  Rafe was convinced Nora had a special “Granny” kind of affection for Zachary, though she rarely displayed it. Dexterous, impatient with nonsense, she lived for her historical writing, debating and defending the truth as she believed it. Nothing upset her more than what she thought was “the ordinary people’s lazy refusal to search out the facts” of what was happening in the world, especially concerning the fate of the Islands.

  “Why don’t people think? Why do they want the silly things of life? So they end up deceived.”

  “If Ambrose will take over for me, then there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go to the mainland.”

  Nora gave a nod of approval. “Very well, if Ambrose is willing, then perhaps it’s wise for you to gain firsthand knowledge of what Thurston and his Reform group are up to with the American government. I’m sure,” she said, her voice cryptic, “Rafe won’t tell us.”

  Rafe caught Zachary’s eye. He wanted to be left alone with Nora. Zachary must have remembered what he’d told him the other night at the hotel about the medicine bottle, because he glanced from Rafe to Nora, and then walked over to the doorway.

  “Grandfather will be arriving soon,” he seemed to warn by suggestion. “I think Doc Bolton is going to be with him. Strange, why Bolton is coming. I wonder what he has on his professional mind?” He went out and they heard him going upstairs to his room.

  Rafe closed the double doors to the parlor. Nora raised her brows. He walked back to her chair and looked down at her gravely.

  “We haven’t much time before the others arrive. I want to talk to you, Nora. It’s crucial.”

  She sighed. “I thought you may have come to me about Townsend.”

  “You know he’s been seen in San Francisco. You’ve experienced just how dangerous he can become. If he finds out you still have the prescription bottle, tablets intact, and didn’t throw it away as you claimed, he has a very sound and urgent reason to try a second time to silence you.”

  She looked at him a long moment in silence, showing no shock at the disclosure.

  “What of Ling? of Eden?” Rafe reminded her. “Townsend set the bungalow aflame by a willful act. Silas is a witness. And you were poisoned. It nearly took your life. No light thing, that. It’s a willful attempt at murder. We have no right to excuse evil just because it was a Derrington, and your blood nephew.”

  Nora rested her forehead on her palm, her elbow on the arm of the chair. “I know that. That’s why I wrote about your father in the Derrington history book. I’ve no intention of protecting Townsend.”

  “You told Dr. Jerome and Bolton that you’d thrown the prescription bottle away.”

  “Only because Ainsworth wanted to protect the family from the sharks in the newspapers. He pleaded with me to hold off just until he could locate Townsend here on the Islands and speak with him. I promised him I would. I’d no intention of ridding myself of the prescription. I knew it was secure, and it still is. At the right time, as needed I shall produce it.”

  “In the meantime he’s roaming the streets of San Francisco watching my mother. You know how jealous he is of her. Now he’s in a rage because he feels she’s turned against him in my favor. Knowing his nature I’d suggest that even now he’s steaming over Parker Judson.”

  Nora looked at him quickly. “Parker Judson? What has he to do with any of this?”

  “Nothing, but try and convince Townsend of that. She’s staying in his mansion on Nob Hill. She has a baby boy that she’s become happy to care for. Do you think Townsend’s mind will not jump to conclusions? Not that Kip belongs to Celestine, naturally, but that she might be falling for Judson, and he for her?”

  Nora frowned and closed her eyes. “I had not thought of it, but now that you mention it, yes. I can see how he would.”

  “I’ve wired Parker Judson this morning to hire a detective to track him down. Ainsworth won’t be happy about my action; he still wants to wait. But I’m not waiting, Nora. I feel comfortable having sent him the wire. If the detective can track him down, then the authorities in San Francisco can be alerted. They can make an arrest—if that prescription is first tested and proven to contain the same poison that put you on a near deathbed.”

  She sat still, and quiet.

  “You heard Zach. Dr. Bolton is coming here with Ainsworth. It’s not about the prescription—unless you told him?” Rafe said.

  “No. He would only have wished to claim it. To lock it up somewhere. But I knew I could manage my own affairs. If Clifford Bolton is coming, then Eden’s aunt, Lana Stanhope, is likely with him as well, and Eden. I suspect it has merely to do with their upcoming marriage, though this seems to me a strange time in which to mix a happy circumstance into the wretched trouble surrounding the Derringtons.”

  “What about it, Nora? I want to see this business come to a head and be over with. The longer we drag it out the messier it’s going to become—the more upset you and Ainsworth are going to become, and the trial to all the rest of the family will bring frustration and infighting. I’ll be on that steamer with Ainsworth and Zach on Sunday for San Francisco. I need that prescription to take with me. I’ll need to show it to the authorities there when he’s arrested. Otherwise, there’s nothing to hold him on.”

  Nora pushed herself up from the chair and stood erect and sober faced. Her eyes searched his for a moment, and he looked at her steadily.

  She sighed. “All right, Rafe. I’ll trust you with the evidence. I’d rather it was in your keeping than Ainsworth’s, but don’t tell him I said so. Unfortunately he’s more dedicated to the Derrington name than he is the members of the family.” She laid a thin hand on his arm. “You wait here. I’ll go up to my room and get the bottle.” She glanced toward the lanai. “I believe that’s Ainsworth now.”

  Rafe went to the parlor doors and opened them for her to pass through. He watched her walk across the hall and slowly make her way up the stairs toward her bedroom. For a moment he had an urgent desire to go with her, to make certain the task was carried through without a hitch. Silas appeared on the upper landing, tall, slim, and fashionable. He smiled at Nora, then glanced down at Rafe standing in th
e parlor doorway watching them.

  “Hullo, Aunt Nora, you’re looking a trifle under the weather … here, please allow me to escort you to your room.”

  “Nonsense. I’m quite chipper.”

  Silas chuckled. “I shall play the grand nephew and escort you anyway … oh, hullo, Rafe. Say, isn’t that Candace who just drove up in the buggy? Looks like Zachary’s gone to meet her.”

  Rafe glanced out the entry hall window. He saw Zachary by the buggy talking to an unhappy looking Candace. Rafe stood there. Something troubled him. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He heard the voices of Zachary and Candace, and the next thing he knew Silas had an arm looped through Nora’s and he was leading her away across the upper corridor.

  Kea Lani Plantation House, a white-pillared structure with three stories, was built in the 1830s as a replica of Candace’s great-grandmother Amabel’s ancestral home in Vicksburg, Mississippi. Great-grandfather Ezra Derrington, a physician, had gone to great lengths hiring builders and shipping materials from Boston, all to make Amabel, who was homesick for her antebellum South, feel comfortable in her new home. When their firstborn, Nora, inherited Kea Lani jointly with her brother, Ainsworth, she set out to transform Kea Lani from a Southern home to an island paradise. The rows of magnolia trees that had been carefully shipped from Vicksburg to grace the long, shady lane winding up to the house were removed and replaced with palms. Banana, mango, papaya, and cherimoya, as well as guavas had to be brought in, being nonnative to Hawaii.

  Candace, as a young schoolgirl, had been surprised, learning that even the ukulele had been brought to Hawaii by the Portuguese.

  As she drove her buggy into Kea Lani’s carriageway, the blue-green ocean shimmered in the afternoon sunlight. She stopped the horse in dappled shade near the white residence. Though the warble of birds in the foliage laced the afternoon warmth with tranquility, the true meaning of peace was not present with the family members who had gathered to discuss the grim news of Uncle Townsend.

  Zachary, golden tanned, walked toward her as she drove up. Her cousin came from the side of the house with a shady area for hitching posts and water troughs for the horses. Her horse and buggy would be cared for by a Hawaiian boy serving as a groom.

  Zachary paused to lend his arm as she stepped down from the buggy seat and gave the reins to the boy.

  “Oh, hullo,” Zachary said. “Looks like everyone’s here, and Eden’s aunt came with Doc Bolton.”

  “Lana Stanhope,” Candace offered the name.

  “Yes, that was it. A sister of Eden’s mother. You know, Doc Bolton doesn’t look right, if you ask me. I don’t know why Grandfather troubled them to come this afternoon. I could think of more pleasant ways to spend the afternoon.” He frowned. “A grim matter, this meeting, if you ask me. Like Halloween, you know? Skulls and ground fog. Depressing.”

  Candace turned her light auburn head and gave him a steady, searching look. His handsome face was troubled, his icy blue eyes restless.

  “You need to get married, Zachary. I think a wife could bring you responsibility and happiness—and you’d forget everything else, including Silas.”

  Her words must have surprised him, having little to do with his grim surmising. He gave a short laugh. “Why would you say that now, of all times? Though I’d like to marry Bunny Judson.”

  “What’s wrong with Claudia Hunnewell?”

  He smirked. “Well … she’s Oliver’s sister. Aren’t you sick of Grandfather pushing the Hunnewells on us?”

  “Quite,” she clipped. “Is Grandfather here now?”

  “He’s up in his room. Oh, I say! What in the world is that!”

  Candace followed his gaze to the buggy seat, but with little interest. The one issue on her mind was to speak with her grandfather alone before the family conference. The silver knob on Silas’s walking stick caught a ray of sunlight and glittered.

  “It’s a wolf’s head,” she said absently. She looked toward the steps and front door. “It belongs to Silas. I picked him up on the road, but he got out early and left it. Is he here now?”

  Zachary reached for the walking stick. “Yes.”

  “Hand it to me, will you?”

  “No … I’ll bring it to him. You go ahead.”

  She left him examining the walking stick, and hurried inside the house. She saw no one as she entered the wide entryway. Voices came to her from the parlor on her left. She wanted to avoid them now, but took a quick glance in before sneaking past unseen. She saw Eden’s aunt Lana with the pleasant and sober Dr. Clifford Bolton. Silas stood behind Great-aunt Nora’s chair where she sat sorting through a stack of papers that Candace recognized as the final draft of her book. Eden was seated beside her holding some of the papers, and Rafe Easton moved about restlessly, looking at his timepiece.

  She darted up the stairs and across the second floor corridor to Grandfather Ainsworth’s room. She tapped on the door.

  “Grandfather? It’s Candace. I need to talk to you.”

  “Come in.”

  She entered the large airy room that had its own lanai overlooking the water, and slipped the door shut behind her.

  Ainsworth looked up briefly and smiled his affection at his favorite grandchild, though he was quick to tense his brow as worries resumed their place on his shoulders. Staid and dignified as ever he slipped into a white jacket and checked his gold timepiece.

  “You’re looking harried, Candace.”

  She hadn’t expected him to notice.

  “We’ve only a few minutes before we go downstairs, so speak your mind.”

  He looked out at the sea’s horizon and picked up a newspaper he’d been reading from the buffet table and tapped it with his finger. “The voyage to the mainland and Washington’s already been leaked to Nora’s Gazette.” He dropped the paper onto the table. “If I learn that Zachary did this I shall be greatly disappointed with him.”

  Candace came to the center of the room. “Grandfather, I’m coming straight to the point. You know how blunt I can be. I came about Oliver.”

  He showed no concern. “Ah, yes, Oliver. The engagement party is all arranged, I’m told, to take place before I board the steamer. That, at least, will be a consolation.”

  She moved about, paying no heed to his words. She paused and looked at him. This was going to be difficult.

  “I can’t go through with it.”

  His white tufted brows descended.

  “My dear Candace, we’ve been through this, in fact more than once.”

  “I know.”

  “He will make you a dependable husband.”

  “So you keep telling me.”

  “This is the best decision for your future and that of the Derrington and Hunnewell alliance. You have your duty, and I have mine.”

  “I know that too. Be that as it may, there are other duties also important.”

  “You are a responsible young woman. As a Derrington, you simply cannot go off and live your own life just to please yourself. I don’t know what’s gotten into young people today. No sense of responsibility as they had when I was young. They’re not mature enough on their own to make decisions on marriage. Nonetheless they speak about love and marriage as though it were to simply satisfy their own desires rather than fulfill their obligations to the benefit of both family and community!”

  While he went on in the same usual vein, Candace pulled herself into a more upright position. She turned the whole thing over in her mind again.

  “Where is the obligation to the family name these days? Since when should a young girl be the sole individual to choose the man she should marry? Girls hardly out of their teens!” He took a turn about the room. “Insisting on marrying a certain fellow simply because he may be better looking than someone far more suited to her for a beneficial life!”

  “Grandfather, is it beneficial to family and community, as well as the cause of annexation, for a Derrington to marry a British spy?”

  He stopped short, tu
rned, and stared at her.

  Candace stared back.

  “What did you say?” Ainsworth walked up to her.

  “You’d better sit down. I’ve something rather startling to tell you, which you won’t like.”

  He drew his brows together, his sharp blue eyes watching her, showing unease and failing conviction for the first time as she continued to show her own cool assurance.

  “I don’t need to sit,” he snapped.

  She recognized that he always became a little snappish when he was beginning to lose his footing.

  “One would think I’m ready to be coddled and cajoled by a too-efficient nurse. What are you hinting of? British spy?”

  “I came upon Oliver and Mr. Symington last night in Hunnewell’s garden talking—”

  “Hunnewell’s garden! I’m beginning to think there’s a plan underway to jinx the place! What is the problem now? Did Keno attack Oliver again?”

  “He did not attack Oliver the first time. It was planned by Oliver himself.”

  He paused, but charged ahead. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true. I heard what was said, and even more was hinted at.”

  “I want no ‘hints.’”

  “Then, the facts as I heard them. Oliver and the Englishman were alone talking in strong terms under the poinciana tree. I had gone out to have a look at the sunset and came upon them.”

  “They knew you were walking up?”

  “Not at all. I walked on the sand. Oliver made it very plain to Mr. Symington that he was not an annexationist as his father, Mr. Thaddeus Hunnewell, believes him to be. The Englishman already knew this well enough. Oliver said distinctly when speaking of his father: ‘He’ll stand by me to the bitter end.’ Oliver believes the Hawaiian Islands should become a colony of Great Britain, like Canada.”

  “Do you expect me to accept this?”

  “Whether you will or not, Grandfather, that’s what I overheard.”

  “I thought I knew you well, Candace. My every hope has been pinned on you and your cool head to safeguard the Derrington Estate after my demise. But this sounds like a kettle of fish to me. As convenient as anything Zachary might come up with to get me to turn against Silas. Do you both think I’m so muddle-brained that I’ll swallow this? Silas, a spy for the gambling cartel. Bosh! Now it’s Oliver … he’s a spy for the English and so the engagement must be postponed. The engagement goes forward, my dear, before I leave for Washington, or I’ll be forced to take the strictest measures against the one to blame for all of this nonsense. And you know who that young dapper fellow may be, do you not? Of course you do. He was there the other night spying himself!”