As Akim was being led away, Mak walked over. “Just a moment, please.” He stared at Akim while examining his own mind and heart. The horse had his eyes on Mak, who laid his hand on Akim’s warm, moist neck and whispered. “I forgive you.”
❧
Mak was kneeling at the front of the church the following morning when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking back, he saw Rev. Russell. Mak stood.
“For a long time,” Mak said, “coming in here and getting things right between me and God has been in the back of my mind, and even more so since Jane has spoken her mind to me—more than once.”
The reverend’s face relaxed into a knowing expression, but he made no comment, apparently sensing that Mak had to make his peace.
“I’ve been coming to the conclusion that I needed to forgive God for letting Maylea and my baby die.” He shook his head. “I don’t think that anymore. I think I needed to ask God to forgive me.”
“He understands, Mak. God still loves you, and He’s still as close as you let Him be.”
Mak nodded. “I know that. But it’s easier to accept when things are going well.”
“Is it?” the reverend said. “Or do we tend to take God for granted when things are going well?”
Mak stood and looked at the wooden cross on the wall behind the pulpit. The reverend had a point. He’d taken a lot of his blessings for granted. “In the past three years, I’ve talked about, thought about, questioned, and tried to reason things about life that didn’t suit me more than in the rest of my life combined.”
“It’s a maturing process, Mak.”
A defining moment, Mak thought.
“Do you remember the verse I quoted to you before the race?”
“I can’t quote it,” Mak said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Something about winning the race.”
“That was about winning the physical race, Mak. Here, look at the ending of that sentence.” He turned the pages of his Bible and read: “ ‘I press toward the mark for the prize. . .’ ” He paused, then read the rest. “ ‘The prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.’ ” He closed the Bible. “We have our human races, Mak. But the one that makes the biggest difference is the one we race daily. The spiritual one.”
❧
“Well, Jane,” Matilda scolded a few days after the race. “You had enough courage to ride the most powerful horse on the island, and you can’t face the likes of Mak MacCauley? Is this my niece talking?”
Jane tried to explain it to herself. Finally, it hit her. “It’s like I told you before. Austin would never hurt me. But Mak can.”
“Then maybe you should book the next ship back to Texas.”
Jane stared into Matilda’s challenging eyes. Then she promptly went into her bedroom, changed into her riding clothes, marched out the door, and rode Anise to the ranch.
Big Brown stood in the corral. Mak was brushing Panai. Across from Panai in a niche she hadn’t noticed before was the Big Island Cup. Mak had what he wanted. His revenge, his big win. He wasn’t talking to Panai, and his face did not have the look of someone who had lost his grief and misery.
Panai gave a low whinny. Jane walked over to the horse and rubbed his face. The horse wasn’t angry with her. She heard Mak’s quick intake of breath when he saw her.
“How is Chico?”
Mak looked behind her as if expecting someone else. He again focused on the horse. “It’s not appendicitis.” If he wasn’t careful, he might brush a hole in that horse.
“Chico’s wife remembered that his dad had a bad reaction to taking salicin. Chico had been taking it for a while for a headache he had after pulling a muscle in his neck.”
He laid the brush aside, and she stepped back so he could swing the door open and come out. Again he looked toward the doorway. “The last I heard, they were planning to test further, but they suspect he has an ulcerated stomach from the salicin.” He added, with relief in his voice, “That is treatable.”
She gestured at the cup. “I see you’ve given the cup to the one who deserves it—Panai.”
“You deserve it, too.” He began walking toward the doorway, and she followed.
“I’m not sorry. Chico said I might not win, but I could ride him.” While Mak washed his hands at the water pump, she felt her words coming out like a tumbleweed. “He was right. I couldn’t win. But Panai could. He did the work. I was just along for the ride. It was the ride of my life, and I won’t apologize for it. I just wish you hadn’t been so angry about it.” She gave him a hard look. “After all, I didn’t throw up on him.”
He shook the water from his hands and wiped them on the sides of his shirt. She thought he grinned. “Why do you think I was angry?”
She took a deep breath. But it didn’t stop the tumbleweed. “Because you didn’t really want Panai to win. You wouldn’t have anything to hold onto without your grief and misery.”
“Jane,” he said. “That might be true if you hadn’t come into my life. You’ve changed me. I didn’t know just how much until you determined to get on that horse. I knew then you were more important to me than the horse, than the race.”
Jane knew that was saying a lot. But did he mean the value of a human being in general. . .or. . . ?
“During the race, I didn’t care if Panai came in last or didn’t come in at all.” He reached out and took hold of her hands. “I wanted you to be safe. For your sake and. . .I did not want Austin to feel the pain of losing someone he loves. Since I’m being honest, I kept thinking that you made me realize that I could love again. God might bring into my life a lovely young woman whom I could come to love, yet. . .I worried that she might not be available—”
His words stopped, and he focused on her left hand, the ring finger. His glance moved to her face and back again, questioning.
“Austin felt that my riding that horse was my racing away from him. He didn’t return the ring.”
Mak looked pained. “I’m sorry if I caused that. Ruined that for you.”
“You are. . .sorry?”
“Yes. No. I mean—”
“Mak, I couldn’t accept that ring again. Austin and I both realized we’re the best friends in the world. We love each other. But we’re not in love. My being your friend has saved me from the prospect of a friendly, boring, good life.”
“No. You would make each day exciting just by being in it.”
“Well, as I said, I feel like you saved my life.”
He stepped closer, and his hand came around her waist. “There’s a Chinese saying—”
“Finally,” she interrupted. “Why do you think I kept repeating that you saved my life? But go ahead and finish the proverb.”
A loving look came into his eyes. “There’s a Chinese saying that if you save someone’s life, you’re responsible for them for the rest of your life.”
“Do you mean. . . ?”
“I mean I love you, Jane. I would like nothing better than for you to become my wife. Is there a chance?”
“There is. And I want you to know this, Mak. I want to plan a marriage with you every day of my life. That’s where I want to focus. I want to be a wife you can respect and cherish and love.”
He put his fingers against her lips. “Let me ask you this. Can you ever forget Austin?”
“No.” Her heart began to hammer, anticipating what he was about to say.
“I can’t forget Maylea, either. And you’re the one who has made me realize I don’t have to. But the amazing thing about these hearts of ours is there’s room for more love than we can ever realize. I love you completely. You, as you are. There’s no competing. I may think of her at times, like when Leia graduates from a class, is baptized. And when she marries, I may think that her mother is watching. But here, you are her mother.”
“I know,” Jane said. “And I will probably always remember Austin’s wealth and think he could probably buy the entire island of Hawaii, and I’ll remember his sweet kisses.”
“Aarrgh,” Mak growled.
“But yours,” she teased, “if we ever get that far, could probably make me forget everything else in the world.”
“I can live with that,” he said. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, without feeling guilty. . .or miserable.”
He brought his hand up from her waist and gently touched her lips. Hers parted to take in a breath. “Don’t say any more,” she said. “Show me.”
So he did.
His lips were only a breath away. She closed her eyes to experience her own personal, passionate adventure in paradise.
Thirty-six
Jane insisted she wanted a simple ceremony, but as plans evolved, Mak began to understand the meaning of everything in Texas being big. These people didn’t know the meaning of simple.
“I’m not going to recognize this house when you women get through,” Mak grumbled to Matilda and his mom, who were changing everything around.
“You’re not supposed to,” his mom said.
“Jane can rearrange, or we can build a new house after we’re married.”
“But that takes time.” Matilda’s hand shooed him away. “This is a woman thing, trust me,” and they insisted upon giving new master bedroom furniture to him and Jane instead of using what had been his mother’s.
He didn’t even know how to argue with those women.
After receiving a wedding invitation, the king sent his regrets but offered a guest cottage on the palace grounds for their honeymoon. Since it was such a long boat trip to Oahu, his mother, Matilda, and Leia were taking the king up on the offer instead. Mak and Jane agreed they’d rather stay at his—their—house.
When they’d all had dinner at Russ’s house one evening, Jane told Mak they’d have a lifetime for making adventurous trips. And he didn’t need a wedding rehearsal; he should just do as he was told.
“You have my condolences,” Austin said. He’d also said he wanted to make sure Jane was happily married before he left the island. Mak had gone with him to look over some property Austin might buy, and Mak thought that had a lot to do with Austin prolonging his stay. Austin told him he planned to go back and marry Rebecca. He’d already sent a letter so Rebecca could be making her plans.
The day finally arrived.
Doing as he was told, Mak holed up in Austin’s hotel room. He did not see Jane all day and was told he wasn’t supposed to.
When evening came, Austin drove him to the beach.
The public was invited, and it looked to Mak like more people lined the three-mile stretch of beach than at Christmastime. But then, Jane was now more of a celebrity than Santa. She’d become an island hero, and all the little girls wanted to be jockeys. Jane said they’d probably settle for being equestriennes.
Austin drove Mak right up to where chairs had been set out for personally invited guests. Mr. Buckley stood with his hands folded in front of his black formal suit and top hat.
Mak walked down the aisle, looking from side to side, greeting the guests.
But where was Jane?
Rev. Russell stood smiling, in a light green robe beneath a white arbor elaborately decorated with every color and type of flower imaginable. “Stand here,” the reverend told him, and Mak stood at one side of the arbor and faced his guests.
Music began. Mak looked to the side where a band of men he knew, some of his own paniolos, strummed love songs on their bragas. One began to sing. Pilar and Susanne, in light green dresses, passed out leis like the ones the two girls were wearing to the guests in chairs.
But where was Jane?
Seeing a movement up the beach, he thought his heart might beat right out of his chest. Riding up on her little white pony was his little girl. Mr. Buckley aided her in dismounting and handed her a basket.
In a white dress with a green sash and wearing a colorful lei, she paraded down the aisle, carefully dropping orchid petals. Seeing that she had some remaining when she reached the arbor, she looked concerned, then turned the basket up and let the rest of the petals float to where Jane should be standing. With a big smile, she turned, sat in a chair beside his mom, and smoothed her skirt, looking like a little lady.
Hearing a cry go up and applause begin, he looked. Big Brown was galloping along the beach with Jane astride him, a long white cover over her lap and thighs and streaming out behind her like a wave on an ocean.
Several persons helped her get rid of the cover, groomed her long, brown, sun-brushed hair that took on the golden glow of the sun. While love songs were being sung, Jane’s father escorted her down the aisle.
Happiness flooded Mak’s soul, yes, his soul as well as his heart, as he thanked God for this gift that, not long ago, he could never have imagined could be his. White flowers and green leaves encircled Jane’s head. She carried a bouquet of white orchids and green leaves, with long green ribbons flowing from it.
As the color of the sky changed to deep gold with a touch of crimson, Pilar and Susanne handed both the bride and groom a white and green lei.
“You may exchange the leis as a symbol of your love for each other,” the reverend said, and Mak slipped the lei over Jane’s head and lifted her long, soft, fragrant hair, taking a moment to revel in the feel of it as he had never dared do before.
She placed her lei over his head.
Mak could not take his eyes from her. The reverend said many things and one that registered was, “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”
At the appropriate time, Mak slipped on her vacant finger a band set with small emeralds that matched the larger set of the engagement ring they’d picked out together.
She said it had to be green, in memory of the night of the sunset when he’d taken her breath away.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
And he did.
After a moment, Jane leaned away. “Remember your instructions to a racehorse. Don’t give it your all until you come into the home stretch.”
He exhaled heavily. “Good advice.”
The reverend had the guests stand and led them in singing “Blest Be the Tie That Binds.”
Mak and Jane hurried up the aisle. He mounted Big Brown and lifted Jane in front of him. As they rode across the beach in the golden, crimson evening toward the ranch, Jane turned her face toward him. “I’ve practiced this,” she said. “Aloha au la oe.”
Thanking God for his being the most blessed man in the world, Mak said, “I love you, too.”
About the Author
YVONNE LEHMAN is an award-winning, best-selling author of 46 novels, including mainstream, mystery, romance, young adult, and women’s fiction. She directed the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference for 25 years, is director of the Blue Ridge “Autumn in the Mountains” Novel Retreat, co-director of the Honored Authors of the Gideon Media Arts Film Festival (www.lifeway.com/gideonmediaarts), and mentor with the Christian Writers Guild. Her latest releases include North Carolina Weddings, a three-novel collection, and three devotionals in Daily Devotions for Writers. She is writing a three-book series of historical Hawaiian novels for Heartsong Presents: Aloha Love, Picture Bride, and Love from Ashes. She earned a Master’s Degree in English from Western Carolina University and has taught English and Creative Writing. Please visit her Web site to learn more at www.yvonnelehman.com.
Dedication
To Carmen Leal, my writer/friend who lives in Hawaii and made paniolo suggestions that inspired my plot ideas for Aloha Love and gave me the idea for its sequel, Picture Bride.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Yvonne Lehman
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
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