“Madeline, are you okay?” a bed-side lamp clicked on and she saw the shoulder and upper arm belonging to the voice of the man who held her so tightly. Only her father had ever called her Madeline. The skin was dappled with freckles and there was a light sprinkling of red-gold hair on his upper arm. Snapping her head back she inhaled sharply with surprise,

“Kirk!” her head whirled around as her hands pressed against his shoulders, pushing him away. She was trying desperately to make out something of the room from the shadows. It was a bedroom, she glanced at the bed, only her side was disturbed, the other pillow was crisp, the blankets still tucked in. Looking down she saw that she was wearing not her nightgown but a man’s white dress shirt. Her eyes darted towards Kirk; he was wearing loose, grey silk pajama pants and a ribbed white tank top, his red-gold hair was tousled from sleep and his amber eyes full of concern. When her eyes met his, she felt her cheeks burning, her eyes full of the question: had they? Maddie tried to will her disordered, darting thoughts into some kind of sequence. Feeling his hand on her shoulder, she involuntarily flinched away.

“Hey, hey, settle down, don’t panic. You look like a deer in the headlights. I’m not going to hurt you, I think you were having some kind of nightmare. I was asleep on the sofa in the other room when I heard you.” He stood up and, with obvious difficulty, refrained from touching her again as he asked solicitously, “Can I get you a glass of water? Maybe they have some tea or something if you’d prefer something warm. Too early for coffee yet.” He smiled gamely, arms hanging nervously helpless at his sides.

“Kirk,” Maddie began nervously, impulsively reaching up and touching the tips of his fingers with her own and just as nervously snatching them back, searching under the collar of what she realized must be his shirt, instinctively reaching for the familiar comfort of the fine steel chain, “where are we?”

Kirk sat down heavily on the side of the bed, his eyes which a moment ago had been filled with quizzical concern now looked a shade darker and flooded with worry, “Maddie, we’re in Kauai. You don’t remember?”

At that moment it all came tumbling back in as if someone standing above her had flicked from their hands all fifty-two cards in the deck onto the top of her head. She grabbed them all, sorted them by suit, finally adding the last two jokers: herself and Kirk. Acutely embarrassed, she struggled to regain her footing; she still couldn’t remember if anything had happened between them. The last image her mind could recover was getting into the back of the taxi cab after dinner.

“I’ll take that tea, if there is some.” Maddie managed to meet his eyes and smile a bit. If he would just leave the room for a minute she’d have some time to think.

“Okay, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, I’ll be okay. It was a terrible nightmare; I think that I’m still really disoriented.”

Not looking very convinced, Kirk stood up and headed out the door towards the kitchenette that adjoined the living room of the cottage suite. Maddie looked down at herself, relieved to feel that she still had her panties on and dismayed that the same could not be said for her bra. Of course she hadn’t been wearing one with the deep scoop-backed dress she’d put on to go to dinner. Had she just been so exhausted that she’d fallen asleep in the cab? How could she find out what had happened after that without him knowing that she couldn’t remember. She looked again at the other side of the queen bed and heard the sound of a microwave from the other room. That must mean that he’d found tea; good that meant he’d be out of the room for a little longer.

Maddie started to shiver as the sweat began to evaporate from the shirt and the sheets. Kirk appeared at the door with a grey silk dressing gown.

“The tea is almost ready. I thought you might want something to change into, that shirt seems pretty damp…I didn’t want to go through your things, but this is really warm.” for the first time, Maddie saw Kirk look slightly embarrassed. He cleared his throat and looked down as he laid the dressing gown over a chair by the door, “I’ll go get your tea” he said, backing away and pulling the door closed behind him.

Maddie slipped shivering from between the wet sheets, walking hastily towards the chair and unbuttoning the shirt as she went. She shrugged off the sodden shirt with relief, wrapping the soft cloud of silk eagerly around her. The shirt dangling from her fingers, she thought about his uncomfortable expression; he must have undressed her and put her in the shirt. Looking down at the keystone resting, reassuringly cool on her breastbone, she tried to picture the scene and couldn’t. By his evident embarrassment, she jugged that he hadn’t found the task unpleasant.

Opening the door she stepped out into the living room and headed towards the warm light coming from the kitchenette behind the island that divided the kitchen from the living area. Perching on one of the tall stools that stood in front the island, Maddie smiled shyly at Kirk as he pushed a mug of warm tea towards her. He took a sip from his own cup and then, just as she brought her cup towards her lips enjoying the warmth radiating from the cup, asked, in a calm, companionable tone:

“So, I’m curious…who is Lohiau?”

Okay, I have the next bit ready in my head, I’m way behind schedule having been distracted by the spectre of ‘real work’ in my other life as a poet, translator and mom. Seeing my partner work so hard makes me feel as if I should work at least as hard on what paying work I have and my daughter insists that I mom as much as possible.

I am continually surprised about what I learn about my characters when I write. I was sure that Kirk and Maddie would have a blow out but they don’t. In the end, Kirk has to find out about Lohiau, he’ll know that Maddie has bungled things even worse that he suspects. And yet, Kirk, being an IT security analyist, is never going to lose his temper and go off, (at least not yet) at worst he’ll pick up his toys and leave the room…. Maddie is what we call in Italy ‘furba’, perhaps the best translation in English would be ‘cagey’. I keep being drawn back to my two Hawaiian characters, where are they going next. I don’t know but I find that I like Sid and Momi more every time I write about them.

I will be back to writing the novel soon and thank all of my regular readers for both their interest and their patience. I may not make it to 50,000 words before the end of November but I think I may make it to the end of the story….stay tuned.

“So honey-girl, when was the last time you talked to Lohiau?”

Inside Sid groaned. She imagined that her great aunt must think that this companionable moment signaled the perfect opportunity for a motherly chat about her imaginary love life. How could she answer without ruining the rest of the day? She made her best effort,

“I see him around, it’s a small island.” Sid smiled at her aunt “I don’t really remember exactly the last time; he always reminds me to give his respects to you.” The first part was a bald-faced lie, she did remember it was last Tuesday morning at 10:30 when she’d run into him at the Kauai Coffee Company; she’d felt terribly fat, standing there in cut-off jeans and a red dirt shirt. He’d said that now that it was low season he’d come by, have a shave ice, and say Hi to Momi. That was a week ago. She’d said nothing to her aunti, knowing that she had a soft spot for Lohiau and would be disappointed when he didn’t come.

“That one is the real thing. Not much makes me wish I was younger, younger is too much trouble. But…” the older woman’s voice trailed off into silence for a moment before she picked up the thread again, reaching over the emergency break and patting Sid’s thigh, “…you’re not too old for a little trouble. Little trouble might do you good.” Momi looked at Sid questioningly; Sid looked at the road and spoke with bitter humor in her voice,

“Not too old, just too fat, too short, and too much bad luck.” Lifting her chin, Sid looked over at Momi who sat looking through the windshield with a dreamy expression on her face.

“Oh Honey-girl, men like short, it makes them feel more like men. All the rest of that can change, even luck.”

Turning her attention assiduously back to the highway, Sid thought of the winding two lane black top of Waimea canyon road, the stunning views of layered red rock, the switch-back’s that could leave anyone’s stomach in their throat. The curves like those of livid scar that wrapped it’s way up Lohiau’s leg and around his knee, lasting evidence of the motorcycle accident they’d been in together; she escaping with a few bruises and he with extensive knee injuries that required six surgeries. It was impossible to forget the beautiful landscape blurring, the blue of the sky becoming the floor of her vision while the sky turned to red stone. All of it spinning by in double exposure the image before her eyes an Alice in Wonderland distorted mirror of her dream from that morning.

Sid had kept on going while Lohiau had to give up his dream of becoming a competitive surfer forever. It was still hard for her to look him in the eye. He was still beautiful, perfect. Anyone might say he still did well, teaching surfing to tourists in the high season and going his own way the rest of the year. Perhaps he’d forgiven her by now but she could never forgiver herself. She’d dreamed the wreck, it was before she knew she had the dreaming gift, or the dreaming curse, she thought. Even twelve years later, Sid found it difficult to shake the feeling that her dream had caused it to happen, or that she could have prevented it. Maybe in the end she was worse off than he was, still working at her aunt’s shop, getting fatter every month and still working at the seemingly hopeless task of trying to make sense of her dreams so that nothing like that would ever happen again. Not to anyone she loved, not to anyone at all.

“Malu, it’s never too late. Don’t be so busy untying the strings your dreams that you miss your own life. Even your grandfather found a way to live with the gift.”

“And you?” the words had popped out of Sid’s mouth before she could reel them back in.

Surprisingly, Momi didn’t take up the gantlet and snap back at her; instead she reached up awkwardly from the passenger seat and patted Sid’s cheek:

“A family isn’t everything. I had my trouble Honey-girl, more than you’ll ever know. Now you worry about having yours.”

The maître d’ met her at the door and walked her back to a table in the corner where she saw Kirk waiting at the candlelit table with a bucket of champagne on ice. She was pleased to see the surprise register on his face as he saw her weaving from one table to the next. He stood, took her hand and gently pressed his nose and lips against her cheek before pulling out her chair.

“Now I see why you’re late! Last minute appointment at the salon?” The corner of right corner of his mouth eased upward just enough to make the dimple in his cheek show.

“Well, I wanted to look perfect for tonight.” she smiled. Maddie would have to tell him something to explain the lost case, but she would give as little ground as possible. If she told him everything now it would ruin any sense that they had of being equal. She was here but she still didn’t trust him completely nor did she want to give him a reason not to trust her. “It smells fabulous in here. I can’t begin to tell you how hungry I am!”

“I thought you might be so I took the liberty of ordering you some ahi sashimi and a light salad to start with,” then he lowered his voice a bit “I’m sure the dive took a lot out of you.” Kirk reached across the table for her hand; the well-starched olive colored cotton of his shirtsleeve making a light chuffing sound as it brushed the tablecloth. “So, how are you holding up?”

Maddie let her hand lie limp in his and looked at the foot of her champagne flute, working to hide her irritation; did he really think she was so weak? Did he think that a thirty-minute dive was too much for her? She was saved from having to offer an immediate response by the appearance of their water with two matching plates of resplendent white china. Each plate held six perfect squares of raw tuna, exactly the pink of a woman’s lips when she’d just been kissed. Kirk released her hand, brushing his thumb briefly across the pale red line on her wrist. Maddie found it difficult to not snatch the fish off the plate with her hands. Maintaining a veneer of civilization, she reached for her knife and fork and ate all six pieces of sashimi with alarming alacrity. As soon as she was finished she wished she’d gone slower; the fish was perfectly tender with that amazing light, buttery sweetness that only truly fresh ahi tuna could have. Kirk said nothing but raised his eyebrows and moved two of the four squares of glistening pink flesh from his plate to hers.

“Thanks,” she said “it’s perfect. I don’t know that I’ve ever tasted better.” Now that she had something on her stomach, her irritation began to ebb. Maddie looked up into Kirk’s amber eyes and noticed for the first time that they were ringed with a green that matched his shirt.

“I guess you didn’t get lunch,” he said, carefully cutting a bite of his remaining sashimi, “take too long to get the haircut or were you taking a walk on the beach? It looks great by the way, your hair.”

“I have to be honest,” smiled Maddie, swallowing “I had a little trouble with a rip-current that put me off schedule.” She took a deep breath and a sip of champagne; she would dole out the truth one drop at a time and shut-off the tap as soon as she sensed him relax. Hopefully she could close out the discussion before they got to Lohiau.

“I thought you were an experienced diver?” Kirk replied his jaw tensing while his voice stayed low and even.

“Even experienced divers can misjudge the situation in unfamiliar waters. Everything is under control. I’m here aren’t I?”

“And the case?”

“I had to let it go; but I have the stone. That’s what’s important, right?” Maddie saw that he was getting tenser, his jaw rigid as he sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, his eyes turning cool and calculating. Damn, thought Maddie, this is bad body language. She decided it was the moment to appear completely vulnerable by admitting something that was almost true. She put both hands in front of her and then turned her palms up, studying the lines that crossed her palms, she leaned forward, crossing her legs towards him. All of these signals of open intimacy in place Maddie looked up directly into Kirk’s eyes, “I know that you want an explanation and I know that I owe you one. The truth is that I didn’t put the stone inside the bag. I had to have it where I could get to it as quickly as possible. If I’d been able to hold on to the bag, I could have lied and you would have never known. Maybe it’s better this way, you are good at reading people. I think you would have seen through me, that is if you hadn’t already.”

She held her face still and solemn while inside she was pleased to see that his expression had softened and he was sitting forward in his chair, “So, just out of curiosity, where was it?” His voice sounded willing to forgive if she gave the right answer.

“In the pocket.” Biting her lip, Maddie looked down at her open hands, hoping she looked appropriately contrite and that he would let it drop and assume that she’d meant the exterior pocket of the makeup case and not force her into a real lie. To her relief, Kirk leaned forward and with his index finger, brushed her collarbone where the steel chain crossed it.

“That important to you is it?” he said softly, reaching up with his thumb and stroking her cheek. So, she thought, there would have to be this to make everything else work.

“It’s all I have left of my family,” whispered Maddie. “It should have been my mother’s” she finished, surprised as, uncontrollably, honest tears welled hot from the corners of her eyes.

Anne Lamott (one of my favorite writers) is right when she talks about how hard it is to turn off the radio station in our minds which has only one channel where the DJ does nothing but remind us of our shortcomings and of all of the things we have to do besides write. Now I can add to his list…feel guilty about not writing. I hear my own voice pleading with him…”but the bathroom is clean! the baby’s pajamas are washed and her winter boots are scotchguarded!”…He looks at me with a stern expression, discontent that I’ve left Maddie at the bathroom mirror, knowing what will happen next but too ‘lazy’ to type it out.

He may be right. But it feels good to look at my clean kitchen counter, my fluffy bath rug and the softened butter on the counter waiting to be mixed into cookies. If my six faithfull readers are wondering, Maddie makes it to the resturant a half hour late, she looks fabulous, Kirk is stunned, we find out that he’s a red-head and looks good in olive green. They’re about to have a wonderful dinner which will be ruined by a big fight…what will they do about the Queen Bed back at the hotel…mmm, I’m not sure yet but I’ll let you know tomorrow.

Thanks to everyone who’s stopped by to read and thanks for letting me take a break. I’d give you a plate of cookies if I could.

All my best,

Chastity Blaze

“I need a taxi to take me to The Beach House at seven-thirty.”

“Mr. Marsden had already scheduled one to arrive at seven-fifteen and so the taxi is waiting at the main house. I will let the driver know that you’ll be a little late.”

“Thank you so much,” replied Maddie, both relieved and irritated at the same time, “I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

“No problem. We see you shortly.”

Sure it was no problem for the driver, she was sure he had the meter running even now. Maddie crossed the room and found the door straight ahead led to a bath that was just behind the kitchen. She stripped off the suit that was now stiff and crackling with sea salt stopping only to pull the stone out of the pocket worried that the salt water would already be working on the steel chain that her grandfather had forged for it over fifty years ago. There was a picturesque claw foot tub stenciled with plumeria blossoms; it made her wish that she had time for a long hot soak. Instead, she pulled the curtain, cranked the hot water tap on full blast, and pulled up the knob. The first pulse of hot water that came from the showerhead felt like a benediction falling down from heaven. She saw that Kirk had already showered here because the soap was unwrapped and she reached for it happy to find that it was a full-sized bar and not one of those flat chips of soap usually found in a hotel bath. Kirk had left his own shampoo as well; picking up the bottle and holding it under her nose she smelled the familiar sandalwood scent that she associated with Kirk. It was awfully masculine and so probably had no conditioner in it; oh well, it would have to do. She used half the bottle lathering up her long dark hair. In between her fingers the fine strands felt hopelessly sticky with salt and snarled with knots.

When she had done rinsing her hair, Maddie looked down at her injured hand. Her heart stopped for a moment when she saw that it looked undamaged. She dropped the soap and looked at her right hand. The only sign that remained on her left hand was a pale reddish strip of skin under the heel of her left thumb. It had seemed so much worse in the water; she wasn’t crazy, there had been blood. The memory of Lohiau’s fingers, hot on her wrist flashed through her mind causing her skin to flush pink from head to toe. There was time to think about all of that later, now she had to hurry and make herself presentable for dinner, so much the better that she wouldn’t arrive in a sleeveless silk dress with her wrist looking as if she’d lost a calf-roping contest. Reluctantly, Maddie turned the hot water off and stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in a thick white towel and heading for the bedroom.

A large red suitcase, the big brother of the red make-up case that was now gone forever, lay open on one side of the queen-sized bed. Maddie looked at the bed and didn’t want to think about tonight. There was a note placed carefully atop the open case written in Kirk’s tight but elegant script:

“I took the liberty of hanging up your dress in hopes that I could save you the trouble of ironing it. If necessary, there is an ironing board in the closet. See you at 7:30; I’ve ordered you a cab.”

My, he was thorough, thought Maddie. As when she had phoned the front desk she felt both relieved and irritated. Kirk had thought of everything so that she didn’t have to worry, but that also left her feeling as if he thought she were incompetent to handle the situation on her own. She turned and looked at the beautiful Calvin Klien grey silk that hung from the door. It was a light silk knit so any creases that had got into it in the suitcase had easily fallen out as soon as it hung in the sweet humid air. First things first, thought Maddie, I have to deal with my hair. Brushing the note aside, she snagged her makeup bag out of the suitcase and headed back to the bath.

Before the bathroom mirror she let down the long mane of black hair that she had twisted into the towel. Every bit of it below where it had been shoved inside her suit collar was a snarled mess. Maddie smiled to herself, Kirk may have planned everything but she could have at least one surprise.

The sand of Ke’e beach was golden green until it petered out into a plain of rounded boulders of black lava that looked like the shoulders of hundreds of wet seals resting in the surf. Sid and Momi began to cross them carefully the smooth surface of the stones warm on the soles of their bare feet. Momi moved slowly but with sure steps her head up looking down the coast at the majestic cliffs of the Na Pali coast now cloaked in fog. Sid never tired of this view, the tall knifelike ridges rising towards the sky, the fog rolling off the surface of the ocean and flowing between one ridge and the next so that they looked as if they had emerged into another world. It always amazed her that this side of the island could look so different from where she lived, just on the other side of where this rugged slice of coast ended. Sid felt her foot slipping on one of the wet black rocks as the wind blew hard enough to rattle the tops of the palms that lined the beach. She kept promising Momi that she would take up Hula again. In her youth, Momi had been one of the best and her training showed in that even now, at seventy-one, she could easily and gracefully cross this bed of slippery stones without once slipping or losing the rhythm of her stride. Above the surge of the wind and the wallowing of the surf over the rocks, Sid heard the sound of Momi’s calm voice chanting a ‘melo’; perhaps it was one to the winds or to Pele who could call the winds in hopes of keeping them from being blown off the rocks.

Soon they could see the indication of the path that rose through the heavy, green of the costal vegetation towards the smooth grassy terraces of the Keahualaka hula hālau. As they started up the hill Sid found herself wishing that she’d had a shave ice back at the shop. All the energy that she could derive from the five cups of coffee she drank that morning and the two packages of chocolate cupcakes that she’d hurriedly wolfed down in the car while Momi was buying lei from Mary Ke’hana was long gone. The dense, sweet scent of the plumeria blossoms was starting to make her a little nauseous and more than once Sid had to grasp the trunks of the young palms to steady herself. Meanwhile, Momi walked ahead, tranquilly, the soft sound of her melo floating back towards Sid, wrapping around her like a Maile vine and pulling her forward.

Finally, they reached the smooth green grassy terrace and Sid immediately sat down to catch her breath, hanging her head down between her bent knees to ease the nausea. When her stomach had settled she looked up and saw that Momi was standing right beside her looking down at the fringe of wind-blown palms that framed the transparent turquoise water below. Where they were was one of the most ancient temple sites in Kauai. Sid was sitting on rough stones that had once been the foundations of a huge complex of sacred buildings where the ancient chief’s and nobles would gather for celebrations. It was here that, according to legend, the fiery volcano goddess Pele had come, drawn by the sound of Kaua’i’s most famous chief, Lohiau, as he masterfully played the sharkskin drum. Here, both Pele and Lohiau had danced hula and below, in the sleeping house of the chief, they had become husband and wife, indulging their passion inside for three full days and nights until Pele left to return to her home in the crater of Kilauea on the big island before the volcano’s fire died. It was sacred to the hula goddess, Laka, and dancers still came here to pay their respects and test their skills; others came simply because the plateau was beautiful and had an uninterrupted view of the Pacific Ocean as it continued due north for more than two-thousand nautical miles until it lapped the shores of the Alaskan Peninsula. For the ancients it would have been a view of the forever unknown. Sid liked to think that someone was standing on the south shore of one of those Alaskan Islands and looking towards her.

Sid jumped a bit when she felt Momi’s hand on her shoulder.

“Here Malu, eat this.” she said, handing Sid a rubbermaid container full of cubed mango.

As Sid popped open the container and gratefully took the plastic fork that Momi offered the older woman settled in beside her on the warm grass and pulled a thermos out of her bright plastic tote bag. The perfume of jasmine tea whispered out of the bottle as Momi unscrewed the cap and poured out enough hot tea to fill half of the black plastic cup that served as a lid.

“Honey-girl, you should be kinder to your body and then your spirit will be happier in it. When you eat that sweet food that comes all wrapped in plastic it brings nothing good into you body; no wonder your spirit is always out wandering in the dream world.”

Sid was now feeling hungrier than when she started but less woozy. When she closed the lid of the container Momi reached to take it from her and stuff it back inside the green bag from which she now drew forth a plastic water bottle filled with a cloudy liquid saying, “coconut water, good for everything.” Sid sipped the liquid slowly and they both looked towards Alaska.

“Being up here makes me remember what it was like to be young, to be studying hula with friends, all of us thinking we could learn to dance like the goddess. It’s a nice way to make friends when you’re young. I wish you’d wanted to try it but then hula is a gift like the dreaming gift. I guess you don’t  get both.”

It was a surprise to hear this concession from Momi; Sid thought she would be bugging her to learn hula until one of them died. Her auntie was always pressing her to study their cultural heritage more, not to spend so much time filling her body with junk food and her mind with those cheap paperback mystery novels that she read by the dozen. Looking at the woman beside her, Sid realized how much she relied on her for all of that: to know what kind of offering to bring to the Hieau in which seasons, to know the story behind the special places on the island, to translate for her the meaning of certain ‘melo’ or chants. Momi seemed eternal, seemed stronger than she, but what would Sid do once she was gone too?

It seemed as if one concession deserved another so Sid asked as she rose to her feet,

“Aunti, today will you teach me the melo o Laka?” she was rewarded with a rare smile from Momi that shown luminous both in her aunts face and then again in her own because it was contagious.

Momi stood side by side with Sid and took her hand; together they walked towards the cliff side that rose above the verdant grass. The cliff side was full of fissures within which were tucked offerings of various types: lei, individual flowers or leaves, bits of food carefully prepared and wrapped in ti leaves, and even in the off season, the casual, misshapen, but well-intentioned offerings of tourists, often a rock wrapped in a ti leaf torn from a nearby plant. Momi began to chant in a low voice, slow enough for Sid to follow so that their two voices entwined like two Maile vines as they held the plumeria lei at the level of their hearts,

Ela ke kuko, ka li’a;
I ka manawa he hiamoe ko’u,
Hoala ana oe,
Ooe o Halau-lani,
O Hoa-lani,
O Puoho-lani,
Me he manu e hea ana i ka maha lehua
Ku moho kiekie la i-uka.
I-uka ho’i au me Laka
A Lea,  a Wahie-loa, i ka nahelehele;
He hoa kaana ia no’u,
No kela kuahiwi, kualono hoi.
E Laka, e Laka, e!
E maliu mai!
A maliu mai oe pono au,
A a’e mai oe pono au!*

They placed their lei at the same moment on the jagged black stone and stood in silence for a moment. Sid stepped closer to Momi and took her hand. In a low voice she asked, “What do we do now?”

“We wait,” replied Momi, squeezing Sid’s hand. Turning from the cliff face and walking back towards the path that led down to the beach she continued, “we have asked Laka for help, tomorrow wear your red scarf and we will see who comes in the shop. The two women were silent for the rest of the walk. Momi in front as always and Sid behind watching her aunt’s graceful feet traverse the field of black stone and then the sand until they arrived at the little red hatchback. Sid struggled with what she wanted to say and the inability to say it. She felt as if she had a grapefruit lodged in her throat. What she wanted was to plead with Momi, ‘don’t die, don’t leave me here in this place where I feel you are my only map’ but she could only imagine what kind of uncomfortable silence would follow. It might even renew one of their old arguments right at one of the rare moments when they were in accord with one another. Instead, Sid opened the door for Momi and whispered so quietly that she would never know if Momi had heard her,

“Thank you.”

“Aloha! Lady, you O.K?” He set down his surfboard and hunkered down closer to her, peering up into her face. Maddie wanted to hold out her hands towards him to warm them; she felt her body starting to shake as she opened her mouth to answer and then clamped it shut again as her teeth started chattering. She looked up at the strange man feeling utterly helpless. He was tall and lean and as he bent and gathered her shaking body into his arms his face turned towards the sun and she was able to see his golden skin, high cheekbones and deep, black eyes. Maddie was too spent to do anything but close her eyes, let her head flop against his shoulder, and soak up the seemingly supernatural warmth that emanated from his torso and his long muscular arms. Where his bare hands touched the top of her thigh and the curve of her ribcage she felt as her skin might have been scorched were it not for the fabric of her tan suit between them.

As her shaking began to subside, Maddie opened her eyes and her head lolled back onto the neoprene-sheathed arm of the man who was picking his way carefully over the dunes, his forehead creased with concern. She saw that they had reached a road where a battered black pick-up truck sat on the shoulder of the road. He glanced down at her and, seeing that her eyes were open, his forehead smoothed out a bit. She saw him smile and she tried to smile back. Feeling suddenly self-conscious she thought, ‘I must look really awful’.

“Lady, you think you can sit here for a minute while I get you a blanket and some water?”

“Yes,” Maddie rasped, her throat sore from as much from the screaming as from the salt water that had gone down and come back up.

He crouched down and settled her back against the front passenger side tire of the truck and went around to the driver’s side, opened the door and began rummaging behind the seat. Maddie sat in the waning sunlight and tried to gather her thoughts, what should she do now?

The man came back around the front of the car and knelt down beside her, tilting her torso forward towards his chest and throwing a huge beach towel around her shoulders before leaning her back against the truck.

“Here, take small sips otherwise you might get sick again” he said, offering a plastic bottle of water. Maddie wanted to drink it all but she heeded his advice and took only a mouthful, washing it across her tongue slowly and letting it trickle down her painfully sore throat.

“Thank you,” she croaked, managing another sip and gazing at his profile, a straight but prominent nose over full lips that reminded her of a statue of the Buddha

that she’d seen at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco. The man now sat cross-legged and was busy peeling the speckled, golden skin from a mango. He held out a bit of the sticky orange fruit on the edge of his pocket knife; she pulled it from the steel blade into her mouth with her teeth, relishing its bright sweetness as it burst across her tongue. Maddie closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the warm steel of the truck.

“So what happened?” His voice was casual and conversational as if he scooped up half-drowned women in business suits off the beach every day and was only vaguely curious as to her particular story.

It was the question that she’d been dreading and, without opening her eyes,she answered with the only plausible scenario that she’d thought of in the last 15 minutes.

“I was walking on the beach. Couldn’t resist such beautiful water,” she tried an exhausted half-smile here hoping that would encourage him to listen more with sympathy than with reason. “Rip-current,” she finished, opening her eyes to see what his reaction had been. He was busy cutting another bit of mango and she saw that his gaze stopped at her feet, and then again at the damaged wrist that rested in her lap before rising to meet hers as he proffered the orange-gold fruit.

‘Damn! She thought, I still have my flippers on,’ her saleswoman’s brain went into overdrive as she looked into the dark, unreadable depths of his eyes. She noticed that they were a perfect almond-shape and tilted up slightly over the high ridge of his cheek bones. Smiling apologetically as she took the second bite of mango, she chewed it slowly and wiggled her feet a bit in acknowledgement of her odd apparel.

“Just bought these yesterday and thought I’d break them in before I went on a long dive.” She held up her damaged hand, happy to see that she could still move it and continued, “I had a bag with my shoes in it wrapped around my wrist, I guess those are lost for good now.” Maddie was pleased that both of these statements were true. She was a lousy liar but like any good salesperson she was a genius at only saying what was needed to make the sale and nothing more. His face was a hard one to read, he looked neither convinced nor incredulous, just interested.

“That looks pretty bad,” he said, taking her injured hand in his. “I should probably take you to the hospital, or do you want me to take you to a phone so you can call your husband?”

Maddie didn’t quite make sense of the last sentence; she wasn’t married. Again she noticed how unbelievably warm his hands were. Maybe it was just that hers were so cold but the aching soreness began to ebb from her wrist as he turned her hand gently in his.

“You all right?” he asked, his brow creasing again with concern as she hadn’t responded to his question. Maddie had been lost looking at his long tapered fingers as they stroked the slender pallid ones on her injured hand and started out of her reverie with a little gasp as she noticed what he must have seen, a slender gold band around the ring finger of her left hand. She was supposed to be meeting Kirk at the restaurant, maybe right now. They were, in his elaborate game plan, husband and wife having an anniversary dinner while on vacation in Kaua’i.

“What time is it?” she asked jerking upright.

“ Close to sunset,” he answered laconically, his eyes narrowing slightly, his head cocked to one side as he released her hand. Maddie immediately missed the warmth of his touch, sensed that she was about to lose his credulity and, looking at this incredibly attractive man, she found herself feeling terribly sorry to be wearing a fake wedding ring.

“I’m sorry, really I feel okay now thanks to your help” she said, taking a deep breath and launching into her first lie, “I’m in a panic because I promised to meet my husband for our anniversary dinner at The Beach House at seven-thirty; he must be terribly worried by now!” Maddie raised her clear blue eyes with an expression that she hoped looked sufficiently helpless; cursing the need to be dishonest with the man who had just saved her from dying alone on the beach from shock and exhaustion.

“Nice place,” he said “Should I take you straight there? I think you have time to change clothes.” He smiled at her, his beautifully shaped lips curving up to show brilliantly white teeth. Maddie looked down at her suit now crusted with white salt.

“I think you’d better take me to my hotel first. I’m staying at Waimea Plantation.”

“You might want to eat the rest of this first,” he said handing her the knife and the mango.

Maddie hungrily cut off chunks of the delicious fruit, eating almost as fast as she could cut, the juice unavoidably running over her fingers and her chin. She noticed that her left hand felt much better, the fingers moved easily and the blood had stopped oozing from the torn skin just below the heel of her thumb. Giving up any semblance of propriety, she sucked the last of the fruit off the furry seed of the mango, licking the juice from her fingers. Now she looked up at the man and asked, “You don’t by chance have a napkin do you?”

He laughed, it was a sound like water falling over big round rocks, “this is not quite The Beach House but I think I can manage to come up with something.” He walked around the front of the truck and came back with a roll of paper towels. She wrapped up the seed in one and dampened one of the others with some water from the bottle to wipe her face and hands, taking a deep swallow from the bottle when she was done.

“I’m afraid I have to ask for a hand standing up,” Maddie said; glancing up into his dark eyes again, glad to see that they’d regained the relaxed, open look they’d had earlier. He reached leaned down and instead of offering a hand as she thought he would, he put both of his arms under hers’ and lifted her up. Then, holding her firmly against his chest with one arm he stepped back, opened the passenger side door of the truck, and lifted her into the seat before releasing her. Maddie’s heart raced as he reached across to fasten her seatbelt, brushing her left breast with the top of his arm. This close she noticed that he smelled smoky and sweet, like fire and vanilla.

He stepped back and closed the passenger side door, walked around the front of the truck and settled in behind the wheel. It took a few tries for the motor to turn over but when it finally did he shifted into first gear and reached to release the parking break she reached out and put her slender hand on his shoulder, “I haven’t even said thank you or asked your name.”

“Lohiau,” he replied turning to her with a smile that gave off light, “Aloha.”

Spontaneously, Maddie smiled back with genuine warmth, “Aloha.”

What a crazy idea this was. It seemed sensible at the time, nothing to loose but her vacation time and she would finally find out what secret the stone held, or that there was none. Kirk had convinced her, and she imagined the others, with this logic; they all had pieces of a puzzle, why not put them together where they belonged and see what would happen? Maddie had queried him about the need for such an elaborate plan, why couldn’t they just show up with the bags? His response was two-fold. First, that if they all entrusted the pieces to him and he forwarded them inside the suitcases to the bottom of the ocean, no one could back out at the last minute, or if they did, their piece of the puzzle would be present. The second, which seemed more pertinent to Maddie, was that what they held was part of the cultural heritage of the islands; a heard of American tourists tromping about on sacred ground could hardly go unnoticed and could easily escalate into fiasco that would ruin any chance that they had of finding the truth.  Kauai was a tiny compared to San Fransisco; within two hours one could easily drive in a ‘c’ from the west side of the island where she hoped to come ashore to the place the highway ended in the north where the rugged Na Pali coastline made a road impossible. Only fifty thousand people lived on the island, it was hard to imagine that gossip wouldn’t travel fast in such a small place.

Maddie came up for air again and the shore looked just a bit closer but she was exhausted. She stopped swimming and floated on her back, trying to catch her breath and search within her limp and sore body for a few more ounces of adrenaline. It felt fine to float on the ocean swells, the intensity of the swimming had warmed her up a bit and at the same time she’d grown accustomed to the ache in her injured hand. She stared up at the limitless, weightless blue and tried breathe deeply and calmly to clear her mind. Her last meal had been breakfast well over seven hours ago, that combined with all of the stress and panic didn’t leave her much fuel to keep going; then again, she didn’t have much choice. Maddie turned her head and glanced at the sun, she had to get going, shark attacks were rare here but they would be more active at dusk and she was fairly sure that her wrist was still bleeding where the nylon lanyard had bit through her skin. She tried to lift her arm to get a look but found her muscles too spent to respond. She vaguely wondered what might happen if she just let go. No one was waiting for her back in San Francisco, not even a cat. They would never find her, she mused, her body would drift back into the rip current and push her back out to sea, evening would come and then she’d be shark bait if she didn’t drown first.

Eyes closed and face towards the sun Maddie lay still, rocked in the broad, lolling arms of the ocean swells. She thought that it would be nice to sleep like this. Turning her head, she rested her cheek against the face of the ocean, which felt somehow like her grandmothers cool palm.

“Maddie, wake up! We have to go, Now!” Her mother’s voice was close to her ear, she smelled the fire and felt the sheet slapping wetly over her hair. Opening her mouth to scream it filled not with smoke but with salt water. Spitting and coughing she started to swim frantically, her fingers splayed, arms out of rhythm with her legs. Every nerve in her body sang with pain and panic while in her head rang her own voice together with her mothers’ from 16 years ago: “GO NOW!” Maddie heard the sound of the words rising from her throat; drown out by the crash of the surf and another mouthful of seawater. Dear God! She could hear the surf! Gasping desperately and haphazardly for air, she kept kicking as her arms gave out. She could see the shore now, the curling white of the breakers, the deep green water fading to bright turquoise. She blindly felt with one foot for anything, a boulder, a bit of coral, a sand bar but came up empty. Kicking again she forced her useless arms into one more push, sinking under to where there was less resistance still kicking as hard as her weakening legs would allow. It was impossible to stay under; she needed air. Breaking the surface she found the rolling swells were breaking as well, a six-foot wave blindsided her, filling nose and mouth with spray and foam. Maddie could hear the wordless screams ripping through her throat; she tried willing her mouth to close and her arms and legs to move but the last shreds of adrenaline had abandoned her. Another wave came pushing her down, shoving her forward. Maddie let her legs go, let everything go. Her feet drifted through the bright surging water and touched sand.

“Aloha ʻauinalā, Malulani” replied Momi arching her eyebrows.

“Yes auntie, I’m late; but see, there’s nobody here yet anyway. I took a walk on the beach this morning and lost track of time because I was thinking about my dream.” She had tossed the bait and waited for Momi to respond.

Momi wasn’t ready to let go of her irritation just yet. “Malu, you know I can’t lift the ice onto the machine anymore; what if people had come?” She shrugged her broad shoulders cocking her head in the direction of the ice shaver that stood on the counter.

Sid knew she was right, Momi was almost seventy-two and the top of her head came to Sid’s shoulder. There was a riser behind the cash register so that she could work there; but, it was Sid who managed the machine and prepared the cups full of flavoured ice. It used to be her grandfather Momi’s brother who had done all of that: scooped up the creamy macadamia nut ice cream to put in the bottom of the cup with sweet adzuki bean paste on top, shaved the ice from the big eight pound block, soft and fluffy to put on top of the ice cream, and then, at last, chosen one or three flavours of tropical syrup to drench the ice. The thought made Sid’s mouth water just as it always had.

“Sorry Momi” offered Sid stepping behind the counter and leaning down to wrap her arms around Momi’s soft shoulders. Aunti Momi was all she had left, she really should be more considerate. This was one of the problems of living in paradise; it was too beautiful. Who would want to sit inside for even a few hours a day when there was beach to be walked, flowers to be admired, water warm enough to swim in even in the winter. Sid let go of Momi, taking the return of her embrace and the kiss on her forehead as a sign of forgiveness.

Sydney, that was the first name her parents had given her to commemorate their honeymoon in Australia, was not a tall woman but she had fine, broad shoulders, honey coloured skin, and dappling of freckles across her nose and cheeks as evidence of a Scotsman in the family a generation back. Her grandfather and her aunt had given her a Hawaiian name after she survived the boating accident that took the lives of both of her parents when she was four. Malulani, ‘protected by heaven’, it served both as an apt name and as a painful reminder of her loss. Sid stopped thinking about it, bits and pieces had come back to her in dreams but she had carefully packed them away in a dusty and forgotten part of her mind, not revealing them even to Momi or No’eau. No’eau, her grandfather, had been Kahu or keeper of the Heiau, one of the sacred shrines; not a priest but an important position nonetheless and she had received the dreaming gift from him.

“So now honey girl, tell me this dream.” said Momi as if she had been following Sid’s thoughts. Sid hoisted one of the eight-pound cylinders of ice from the freezer onto the spindle of the old block shaver that sat on the counter.

“There is a dark haired woman in diving gear and a tan suit. She is walking on the ocean floor and carrying a red make-up case. She is walking towards a beach on the west side of the island; I know because I see the sunlight coming from behind her and the sand is golden. I can’t see her face because her hair is loose and swirling. I think that there are eight others behind her. I try to remember how many other shadows but, you know, sometimes pieces of the dream start to slip away” as she spoke, Sid nervously adjusted all of the syrup bottles. Momi waited as if she knew there were more, “Momi…I can’t say how I know, I couldn’t see it but it was there; She was bringing fire in her pocket.” Sid turned and began re-stocking the cups and the long, plastic spoons hoping to calm her agitation about this last part. She turned to Momi, searching her face for an answer or at least one of Momi’s matter-of-fact but funny questions.

“We must take mohai to the hula hālau.” Momi said, stepping off her perch behind the cash register and bustling to gather her bright green tote bag that was full to bursting and the flattened, mostly empty black leather purse that dangled beside it from her fleshy shoulder.

“But what about the store?” protested Sid, not anxious to prepare an offering, make the trek over the black boulders, and hike up the steep path to the knoll above Ke’e beach.

“Anyone who comes can go around the corner, this is Kauai, shave ice stands are everywhere,” responded Momi in her reassuring matter-of-fact voice. “Who wants to stay inside anyway?” she continued briskly walking out the door and leaving it open behind her for Sid to lock.

Sid was continually amazed at how this seventy-one year old woman with her short legs could still walk fast enough to keep Sid panting behind her. She supposed that if Momi were willing to make the hike she could hardly complain. The verdant plateau ringed with stones was one of her favourite places. Looking down at the ocean flashing through the palms and surrounded by the delicate scent of the many leis brought as offerings would calm her nerves.

“Too much coffee.” said Momi, shaking her head as Sid fumbled with the keys to the battered red Honda Civic that they used once a week to go to the Wal-Mart in Lihue for groceries.

“The woman is Pele then? This dream woman.” ventured Sid as she looked down at her hands that had finally managed to unlock the door. She normally asked no questions but this one had been itching at the back of her brain since she’d awoken that morning, a woman bringing fire seemed an obvious symbol of the volcano goddess. The sacred spot where the were headed was dedicated to Laka, the goddess of the hula but it was here that, according to legend, the Kauai chief Lohiau had danced before the fire goddess. Momi ducked into the passenger seat and adjusted her bags around her feet.

“We will stop at Mary Ke’hana’s for pua melia lei.”

It was all the response Sid was going to get for now.