Or, maybe the meeting had nothing to do with her at all, and everything to do with Rafe’s partnership with Parker Judson and pineapples. “Whatever the reason for their meeting, Rafe isn’t likely to relinquish his part of the enterprise,” Eden said. “Once the pineapple business looks successful, Rafe will be rewarded by being in charge of his father’s Kona plantation, Hanalei.”
Eden knew she was vindicating the postponement of their engagement by putting Hanalei on the same scale as her work with her father. She and Rafe both had separated to pursue their goals. Then how could Ainsworth hold her responsible?
Eden turned unexpectedly and fixed Candace with an inquisitive gaze. “Are you certain it was Zachary on the lanai you saw the other night?”
Candace’s auburn brows lifted. “Yes, I’m certain. Has he explained?”
“I’m not sure anyone’s asked him about it. Ambrose referred to it at the mission church earlier this morning. He mentioned that Rafe had come by and wanted to know if he’d seen Zachary around.”
“Had he?”
“Apparently not. Rather odd, though, of Zachary to be on the lanai at midnight.”
“That’s why I mentioned it to Rafe this morning.”
“And you’re certain it was Zachary?”
“Eden!”
Eden smiled. “Yes, you’re certain. Well, I shall leave you to finish dressing. I want to check on Great-aunt Nora before dinner.” As Eden left the room, she was aware that Candace’s eyes followed her out the door into the wide hallway.
Chapter Seven
Serpents in Paradise
Eden came noiselessly down the flight of stairs that fanned out at the bottom. She heard a woman’s voice dimly resonating from the garden through the wide-open doors. Before she reached the doors, the banana plant in a green and gold pineapple-shaped planter pot moved, and for a startling moment Eden thought she saw a reptile coiling. She stopped short and looked again, then smiled to herself when a harmless green garden snake slithered out. She picked up an extra cane belonging to Great-aunt Nora and, managing to loop its body, carried it gently down the steps and deposited it safely under some ferns. “Next time you try sneaking indoors, I’ll excommunicate you from the entire garden,” she murmured to herself. Turning to leave, she heard a woman crying. She looked toward the lava stone walkway that wound through tall hibiscus flowers to a pond.
The woman might have been any of those in the house. Eden hesitated, wondering if she should offer a shoulder to cry on. Her concern got the best of her, and she walked in that direction. She had gone past the hau tree when she came upon a black lava stone bench behind some ferns. “Excuse me, can I help?” she asked, but when she came around the ferns no one was there. She was sure shed just heard a woman crying.
Eden turned, scanning the spacious garden and breathing in the intoxicatingly sweet fragrance from the white gardenias with their yellow centers. Her steps made a faint sound on fallen petals.
Across the lava stone patio a flight of steps led through ferns and orchids toward the sandy, covelike beach. She thought of going down, certain now that whoever it had been, had gone there, but thought better of it. Evidently, the person had heard her coming and didn’t wish to talk. Eden turned around and started back. She glanced toward the sea and saw clouds sitting there, waiting like an army for the signal to storm the island.
Except for the sound of her footsteps, silence pervaded the lovely tropical setting. The garden and mansion seemed to have withdrawn into secretive solitude. Then, unexpectedly, she heard Celestine’s voice. “I won’t stand by and see you take advantage of him again.”
“Take advantage of him? You must be joking. That young man’s one shrewd scoundrel! Look how he managed to come back to Honolulu with those pineapple slips.”
“And you wanted them.”
“Why not? He’s my stepson! He should have come to me for a loan for this property, not Parker.”
“You know very well you would have rejected his plans. You’ve never treated him like a son.”
“Nonsense. I’ve treated him the same as Zach. What am I supposed to do? Go around tucking them in bed at night? Read them stories and pray with them? I’m not Ambrose.”
“Oh, stop it. I’ll go straight to Parker Judson if you try to stop the turnover of Hanalei to Rafe.”
“The trouble with both of you Eastons is you can’t get past Matts death. Rafe’s convinced I was to blame for that accident on Hanalei.”
“Don’t even bring that up.”
“Rafe’s always resented me. Jealous, from the beginning. Always praising Matt. Anything his father did was put on a pedestal. Hands off for anybody else. Now, see here, Celestine, you signed Hanalei over to my supervision when we married.”
“An error on my part.”
“And I’ve legal right to the plantation should Parker decide to back out of the lease. It was part of the deal. He can’t transfer the lease unless I agree.”
“You’re known for scheming, Townsend. Ainsworth knows it, too. If you trouble Rafe again, either about Kip or Hanalei, I’ll disinherit you completely from my will. If Ainsworth does the same, you’ll be penniless. Then what? Do you think your foolish ways can sustain the lifestyle you’re accustomed to indulging in? Not without everyone else’s help, they can’t. You’ll be out cutting cane or harvesting coffee beans.”
“That’s extortion!”
“To protect what’s rightfully my son’s? To safeguard Kip? It’s you who’ve extorted from Rafe’s inheritance all these years. Not again, Townsend. Never again.”
There came a loud slap, a woman’s pained gasp, then silence.
Eden dug her nails into her palms. A sickening knot formed in her stomach.
Frozen to the spot, she stood unseen behind the palm fronds, her heart thudding in her ears. She’d been rudely awakened to an ugly side to her uncle Townsend. Fear jumped to her throat, and her heart thudded. If Rafe ever learns that Townsend struck his mother …
Celestine and Townsend mustn’t know she’d overheard. The incident was between them and God.
Eden began backing cautiously away from the emotional quicksand she’d nearly blundered into and inadvertently bumped into something that moved. Whirling about she looked straight into the eyes of her cousin Silas Derrington.
He wore an unpleasant twist to his mouth. He took hold of her arm and drew her swiftly away behind some leafy trees.
Just then, Celestine hurried past where they stood concealed, and went toward the house. Eden made a move to go to her, but Silas’s fingers tightened on her arm. He gestured with his head. A moment later more footsteps crunched over the sandy pebbles, and Townsend emerged from the shrubs, striding along the same path.
Silas looked after him, released Eden’s arm, and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“It’s not my affair, but if I were you, I wouldn’t let either of them know you overheard.”
“Eavesdropping isn’t one of my pastimes, I assure you,” Eden said shortly and might have wondered aloud whether it was one of his. Where had he come from, among the tropical shrubs?
“I don’t know Rafe Easton well,” he said, “but if what happened between those two gets back to him, he seems the sort that might want to teach Townsend a lesson on gentlemanly ways.”
Eden remained judiciously silent when it came to commenting on Rafe’s mother and her failed marriage. Uncle Townsend had long intimidated Celestine, who was so opposite her son, Rafe, in temperament that most people would never suppose she was his mother. Celestine was taken advantage of by Townsend and bullied into doing what he wanted. Eden remembered from growing up with Rafe at Kea Lani how angry he would become when he saw Townsend show disrespect to his mother or take advantage of the estate left to her by Rafe’s father, Matt.
When Rafe had returned from his voyage to French Guiana and formed his partnership with Parker Judson, he’d suggested to Celestine that she could find a reprieve under his roof if she thought it necessary. So
when Silas arrived in Honolulu two months ago, causing a great stir of gossip, Celestine quietly departed from Kea Lani late one evening with Eden’s help. Eden brought her here to Rafe’s new plantation house as she’d requested, and here she remained, keeping to herself.
So far, Townsend had left Celestine to her solitude. He carried on his life in Honolulu as usual, managing the Kea Lani’s sugar business and occupying the Legislature seat he’d held since he’d been a young man in his twenties.
Celestine’s public excuse for being private was illness. She needed the quiet, she told her friends. Eden was aware that she had also been assisting Great-aunt Nora with a book Nora was writing on Derrington family history.
Now, facing Townsend’s son Silas, Eden remained silent. Would Rafe confront Townsend? When Eden had witnessed Townsend using his fists on Rafe at the beach, Rafe had refused to strike Townsend back. But, of course, back then it was Rafe being struck, not his mother, whom Rafe ardently respected as a true and gentle lady. Eden shivered to contemplate what might happen if Rafe had been here now, or if he should find out what happened. With a sick heart she folded her arms and looked back toward the plantation house. By now Celestine would have taken refuge in her bedroom.
What a mongrel Townsend turned out to be! Why was he such a selfish and ill-tempered man, when he’d been raised the son of Ainsworth? Although Eden’s grandfather was dedicated to the sugar industry and to Hawaiian politics, he was not an unbeliever, nor was he a man who turned a blind eye to his son’s immorality. Ainsworth had often rebuked Townsend for his disgraceful ways. How was it that his son had slipped through his fingers and grown up as he had?
Eden prayed for her uncle to change, but she was the first to admit that to pray for Uncle Townsend was one of the hardest prayer assignments she had, and all because she lacked the sincere fervor of Ambrose, who regularly prayed for the lost.
Dear Ambrose. She knew that Ambrose had Townsend’s name on a special list of people he prayed for from deep within his soul. Ambrose would arise early enough in the morning to be single-minded, and three mornings a week he would take his special list of people with him while he walked along the beach “to talk with God, while our Great Intercessor Jesus Christ presents my feeble requests and pleas to the one and only Holy Father.”
Eden was pondering all this when Silas’s words pulled her back to the moment. “Looks as if I’m not the only eavesdropper in the family.”
Eden sucked in a breath. Immediately she was tempted to lash out at Silas for insulting her. She flushed, furious with the irony that danced in his eyes.
Just like his father, Townsend. But was he?
Silas was in his late twenties, with chestnut brown hair and a well-trimmed goatee. He had the same light blue eyes as Zachary, but more grave. He wasn’t as tall as his father or Zachary, and while of a husky build, appeared to have no particular liking for the outdoors. Even now, he wore crisp white linen, well-polished shoes of the highest fashion, and she noted his long fingers that often tapped and moved restlessly. Out of place on the Islands, but typical of Silas, he also wore a fine Italian silken vest embroidered with four-leaf clovers. His sideburns curved into his jawline and joined the goatee, all meticulously trimmed and, she imagined, perfumed. Silas was that sort of man.
“I wasn’t—I mean—it was an accident,” she protested. “It all took place so quickly I couldn’t help but overhear their argument.”
“A handy little excuse. No matter. I’ll keep your secret.”
“My secret! What were you doing here, sneaking around and coming up behind me like that?”
“Eavesdropping,” he said, unabashed. He offered a rueful smile of apology. “Actually, I was out enjoying the scenery when I heard a horse riding on the road. When I saw it was my father,” he said, speaking the word with light mockery, his southern accent as smooth as cream, “I followed him. I was planning to talk to him about something or other, but I guess it can wait till another day.”
Oh, really?
“Then I saw Rafe’s mother, Celestine, coming to meet him, or so it looked. I knew there was a whole lot of trouble between them over my arrival in Honolulu, so I was thinking I might apologize to her for the way I arrived on the lanai that day two months ago. I’ve been thinking about my behavior, and I’m sorry I chose to announce myself that way.”
Was he speaking the truth? Zachary would scoff at this unexpected humbleness in Silas. Eden didn’t know him well enough to judge his character. Until she did, she would be cautious. She had a tendency to feel sympathy for him. He could not have had a happy life while growing up, bandied about from relative to relative after his mother died. It was not until he was about fifteen or so that she’d heard how Townsend took a financial hand in his life and put him into a boys’ private school somewhere in San Francisco, or so she assumed. The southern accent, however, cast doubt on where he’d been reared, at least for most of his life.
“Shall we call a truce?” Silas was saying. “I meant to eavesdrop, but I’ve heard you’re quite a lady, so I shouldn’t have teased you like that. After all, we are blood cousins and all that, even though I’m not much for the Derringtons to boast of.”
She relaxed her guard a little, taken in by his boyish smile. Was it genuine?
“I’d say Rafe’s mother made herself one big mistake in marrying my father,” he said, and now there was no mockery in his voice. His face was sober, and a look of genuine pity was reflected in his eyes.
Indeed, who was the real Silas Derrington? Who was the man who had unpredictably decided to confront his father and family and, after demanding a place at the table by his mere arrival, had then refused to sit there, and had withdrawn. Although he’d been given a room at Kea Lani, he spent most of his time in Honolulu.
“What do you think of our Grandfather Ainsworth?” she asked, using the word “our” without undue emphasis. “I believe you met him, along with my father, Dr. Jerome, at Kea Lani this morning?”
“Actually, I haven’t met them yet. Great-aunt Nora will have the honor of making introductions before dinner. I’m on my way to her room now. She’s a fine lady and suggested I write some articles for the Gazette.”
That would not make Zachary happy. He’d been running the newspaper for her since last year.
“I was told you’d worked as a journalist for the Sacramento Times.”
“Oh, for a few years. Before that it was the New Orleans Globe.”
“Then you come from Louisiana.”
He smiled. “My accent can’t deny that good news.”
She tried to make sense of the details of his past. Some of them contradicted what shed first been told by the family.
“If you’re on your way to the house to see Nora, I’ll join you. Before I forget yet again, I’ve an important package to bring her.” She tried to keep the conversation on a lighter tone after that horrid scene between Celestine and Townsend, but it was difficult. “If Dr. Bolton knew I hadn’t yet given Nora the prescription he’d sent with me, he’d berate me for slackness in duty. As you can imagine, the arrival of my father has eclipsed most everything for me. I haven’t seen him in years, and his arrival was completely unexpected,” she said, avoiding mention of how many long years it had been.
As Eden walked back toward the plantation house with Silas, she continued her questions, subtly, she hoped. “Then, if you didn’t meet with Grandfather Ainsworth and Dr. Jerome at Kea Lani, was the meeting with Townsend and Zachary delayed as well?”
“So you knew of the peace conference. No, I haven’t met with either of them yet. I arrived late, and the others were already on their way here to Rafe’s.”
Then Zachary’s dour mood on the lanai that afternoon was not due to anything from the meeting.
Flowers and ferns grew in lush abundance, giving a thick fragrance and beauty to the coming dusk and soothing her revulsion over what had happened a short time ago. Yet there remained a dullness in Eden’s heart that grieved over the way sin
was damaging everyone and everything. A late-returning crimson butterfly with a six-inch wingspan lighted upon some wild white orchids and took cover among the blossoms.
“So this is paradise,” Silas said. “There’s a warning in that, I suppose.”
“A warning?”
Malicious amusement shone in his eyes. “As Adams children we might do well to remember that paradise isn’t always as safe as people think.”
She paused as they neared the steps of the plantation house. Twilight was upon them.
The wind rippling through the ferns brought a small chill. That harmless little garden snake shed removed from the front hall came vividly to mind. Silas had a point. The fall of mankind had taken place in a paradise, the garden of Eden, and was soon followed by the murder of brother against brother, all because of jealousy.
A brief silence hung between them. Then Eden turned and rushed up the steps. A voice spoke from the shadows, where some rattan chairs and tables were cloistered.
“There you are. Great-aunt Nora is asking for you.”
Zachary stood from where he’d been lounging, then noticed his half-brother, Silas. Even in the dim light Eden could see his muscular frame stiffen, the white shirt he wore tightening over his chest as he sucked in a breath of displeasure.
“So. You decided to show up after all,” Zachary said to Silas. “Where’s my father? Is he with you?”
“I don’t know where he is. Am I allowed to step over this threshold, or no?” A note of maliciousness hung on his brief chuckle. “If not, I’ll keep the snakes and insects company.”
“Hawaii doesn’t have snakes.” Zachary hurled back the verbal dart. “Except those brought in from the mainland.”
Silas chuckled, and Zachary turned and walked through the door into the brightly lit room.
Eden glanced over her shoulder at Silas, who remained below the lanai with one foot on the step, looking up.
“Come this way,” she said briskly. “I’ll take you to Great-aunt Nora.”
Spoils of Eden Page 11
