Putting her feet into motion and going the long way around the house, Carissa picked up her pace as she walked down the hill toward the ocean. If she admitted that she was out of line watching Irene in her private space, then she should correspondingly be merciful, yet cautious, with those who struggle at a much more dangerous level with the same defect.
No, that didn’t settle with her at all.
In the past, Carissa would agree to such reasoning and find herself humbled by the reality of her failures. That humility gave her a sense of empathy for Richard’s clients, who struggled with overwhelming, life-debilitating failures.
This morning, though, Carissa didn’t want to be wrong. She didn’t want to think about Richard or his clients or any of her own faults, even if they were innocent slipups. She wanted to be free. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to separate herself from everything she had left at home.
With determination, Carissa lifted her chin and strode down to the beach. She had to wait at the crossing signal to traverse the main, two-lane road she had explored on Monday. Even though it was early in the day, a number of cars and trucks waited as she crossed with the light along with a tanned young man wearing only a pair of ragged shorts. He was riding a rusted beach cruiser-style bicycle and balanced a yellow surfboard under his left arm.
“Hey, howzit? Nice day.” He gave her a friendly nod.
Carissa was caught off guard by his tattered but sincere manners and didn’t respond. A few more steps over a sandy rise, past a wooden lifeguard stand, and she was on the beach. As far as she could see in both directions, the pale yellow sand stretched out like freshly washed linens laid out to dry. Lapping gently at the shore’s edges were drowsy waves dressed in the soft blue shades of the early light.
Beside her, a palm tree bent low like an aged wise one leaning toward the sea with an ear turned to listen to the mesmerizing ebb and flow of the endless tide. The palm cast a long, elegant shadow across the vacant beach.
This was the sort of tropical beach she had always hoped to visit. And here she was. Picture perfect paradise. Yes, this was the Maui she had imagined. This was the image she wanted to keep with her always.
To the right Carissa could see several more palm trees, all of them slanted at a right angle, stretching toward the shore. An older couple strolled along in the wet sand, holding hands. In the shallows, Carissa counted five paddle surfers. All of them stood on their boards with impressive balance and used their long-handled paddles to stroke their way into alignment with the gently unfurling waves. One of them caught the crest of a rising wave just right and lifted his paddle as he rode the wave toward the shore.
I think I’ll do this every morning. I’ll walk down here and go swimming. It’s perfect.
Peeling down to her bathing suit, Carissa wedged her bare feet into the cool sand. The air was warm. Not hot. Warm and pleasant. She looked behind her at the great volcano that had filled her window on the plane. The morning sun seemed to rise up out of the volcano, as if invisible arms were lifting the blazing orb and setting it in place in the serene blue sky.
Striding into the water, Carissa stepped forward boldly until she was in up to her waist. Then she lowered herself, stretched out her arms, and made strong strokes toward the open sea. She could feel the determined rays of the sun on her back as she paddled about.
The rounded upper west side of the island of Maui looked as if it were far enough away to be a neighboring island; yet, at the same time, it blended so well with the blues and greens of the ocean, it all appeared to be a photo and not real at all.
Carissa remembered something her son, Blake, had said once when he was little. They were driving over a long bridge that spanned the wide Columbia River and linked Oregon to Washington. From the bridge, Mount Hood could be viewed clearly in the east. Set against the commanding blue autumn sky, the snowcapped peak had captured a tinge of the pinks and oranges of the sunset going on at the other end of the Columbia River. In either direction they looked, the view was magnificent.
“It’s so pretty it looks like a picture,” Blake had said. When he realized his declaration didn’t sound quite right, he added, “I mean, it’s so real it looks fake.”
Richard and Carissa had laughed at their sincere son, and both of them said they knew exactly what he meant. Carissa felt that way now as she took in the 360-degree view. It was so real it looked fake.
Thoughts of Blake made her sad. She missed her son. She missed the way life had been for the three of them when they were all in sync. Blake’s high school years had been the best season for them as a family. He was like his father, logical and systematic. He had no spurts of rebellion or teenage angst. He had gone through a bit of a phase in his preadolescent days, but by the time he was fourteen, he was a content young adult who enjoyed spending time with his parents and taking his mountain bike up the trails that edged Mount St. Helens.
She let the sadness bob along next to her in the rhythmic waves and thought, That season of life went too fast. Why didn’t I appreciate it more? Why didn’t I love my son more while he was under our roof?
Carissa continued treading water. Each color and detail around her seemed vibrant in the early light. She consoled herself with affirming thoughts about how Blake had told her she was a good mother and Richard was a good father. Together they had raised a strong, well-adjusted son. What would Blake say if he knew where his parents’ relationship was headed? If they separated or eventually divorced, how would it affect him?
He would understand. Blake can handle this. It wouldn’t affect him.
She knew better. Over the years, she had watched friends’ lives be torn apart by divorce, and she knew everyone was affected to some extent. Yet, what could she do if Richard continued to push her away?
Determined not to dwell on such thoughts, she chose to enjoy the morning’s beauty. She swam as if she meant it. With each kick and paddle, she imagined she was pushing herself away from her life at home and urging her thoughts and her spirit to move forward, to embrace the present.
It didn’t take long before she needed to go back to the beach to catch her breath. Stretching out on the new towel, she could see why Betty was adamant about Carissa bringing these towels over here. The plush fabric, combined with the warm sun on her back, lured Carissa fully into the present. She felt strong and ready to focus only on what was in front of her.
Glancing around, she was surprised at the number of beachgoers who had arrived since she first had claimed her spot. Colorful umbrellas were planted in the sand, as couples and families claimed their territory for the day. Beach chairs were being unfolded to the right and to the left. A crying toddler protested the sensation of the unstable sand beneath her bare feet and raised her arms to her daddy, who scooped her up and then promptly handed the wailing wee one over to her mother.
Fifty yards from her a tall man with noticeably white legs carried a large ice chest by the two side handles. Behind him trailed a teenager with enough boogie boards and inflatable beach toys to start his own small beachfront rental shack. He was followed by a tall woman and three thin girls, all toting beach bags and lawn chairs, with beach towels draped over their shoulders. They plopped down their gear less than ten feet from where Carissa sat.
Time for me to go.
The uphill walk to the cottage proved to be a bigger challenge than she had estimated on the way downhill. When she arrived back at the cottage, she made coffee and then took it out to the back patio along with a bowl of cereal. Breakfast had never tasted so good.
The patio seemed like a different place each time she went there. Nothing of her mysterious whispering from the night before lingered in the light of day. The sun was now at just the right angle and felt wonderful on her salt-dotted legs. Closing her eyes, Carissa leaned back and sank into her morning sunbath.
Just as she was drifting off, she heard her name. Sitting up and catching the bit of drool that had begun to slide out of the corner of her mouth, she looked
around. Dan was in the side yard, coming toward her.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked.
“No. I went for an early-morning swim.”
“Good for you. Nice morning for a swim. Say, we didn’t see you to tell you yesterday, but Irene wanted me to let you know I won’t need a ride to the airport this afternoon. Kai returned last night, so he’ll take me.”
“Oh, okay. Good. Well, let me know if you or Irene need anything. I hope you have a good trip.”
“Mahalo. Thank you.” He turned to go and then clapped his hands and turned back. “Nearly forgot the most important part. We have fresh fish. O’paka paka. Kai brought it back from the Big Island, and we’re having it for lunch. Are you interested in joining us?”
“No, that’s okay. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”
Dan didn’t leave. He gave her a look, as if to say she was crazy to pass up fresh fish. “Are you sure? We have more than we can eat. And I picked tomatoes and zucchini this morning. Irene was hoping—”
“Okay.” Carissa stopped him before he resorted to using his poor wife to influence her decision. Besides, none of the options in her refrigerator fell into the “fresh” or “healthy” category. With her stomach just returning to normal, it did seem like a good idea to go organic for lunch. “What time should I come over?”
“Eleven. We want to eat early, before my flight. Sound good?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, then. See you by and by.”
The lunch invitation was sounding more like a brunch invitation. That was fine. She would use the afternoon to drive around and do some shopping since Dan had a ride to the airport.
At a few minutes after eleven, Carissa traipsed through the Garden of Eatin’ and called to Irene at the screen door. Mouthwatering garlic fragrances wafted from the kitchen.
Instead of Irene responding to her greeting, a male voice called out, “Come on in. You don’t have to knock.”
Slipping out of her sandals, as she had come to learn was the accepted custom before entering the house, Carissa entered. Her bare feet were only a few steps inside when she saw the man who had invited her to enter. He was medium height and athletically built, and his head was shaved. Turning toward her with a spatula in his hand, he smiled broadly, showing off straight, white teeth and a good-looking, tan face. His eyes were striking and gave away the family resemblance to Dan and Irene.
“Kite?” she asked.
He looked at her funny. “Kite?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were Dan and Irene’s son, Kite.”
He laughed, and the room suddenly felt brighter.
“Kai,” he said. “My name is Kai. Take the ‘t’ and the ‘e’ off of ‘kite’ and there you have it. It’s Hawaiian for ‘ocean.’”
She felt her face warming. “I’m so sorry. I misunderstood.”
“That’s okay. I’m guessing you’re Carissa.”
“Yes.”
“Are you hungry?”
The true answer would have been “no,” but she still felt caught off balance. “Yes, very. It smells good. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Irene entered with some fabric place mats in her hand. “Did you meet our son?”
“Yes, I did.” Carissa offered another courteous smile at Kai and once again felt her face flush. At first she thought he must be in his thirties, but as she watched him, it seemed he was closer to her age. He was just in much better shape than most people in their forties.
Why am I feeling this way every time I look at this man? He’s so good-looking. I had no idea their son would be a forty-something athlete. I wonder if he’s married?
Then Carissa caught herself. All her fizzy thoughts went flat. What are you doing? Why would you think such a thing? You’re a married woman!
She stood there, curling and uncurling her bare toes in the plush green carpet. A trailing afterthought sneaked in before her staunch resolve could catch it. At least for now you’re married …
8
“A pi’i mai na nalu
Na ’ino ku’e
’A’ole lakou la e popo’I mai
Mai ku a maka’ua ha’alulu ’oukou
’O wau me ’oukou la.”
“My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply;
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine.”
THE FISH WAS DELICIOUS. The conversation around the patio table was engaging. Dan’s tomatoes and zucchini were undeniably fresh. And Carissa was a fumble of emotions and actions.
She dropped her fork under the table and then tripped on the track of the sliding screen door when she went inside to get a clean utensil. When Kai asked if she would like more iced tea, she answered, “Pwease.”
If the others noticed her odd slip, they didn’t let on.
She felt the same way she had in seventh grade, when she tried to hide her two-week-long crush on her science teacher. Fortunately, that crush wore off without anyone but her best friend catching wind of it. By then Carissa was over the puppy-love feelings and skated through seventh grade without her silly emotions causing any lasting damage.
She could only hope that would be the same conclusion this time around.
After they finished eating, Carissa asked if she might borrow the car again. Now she felt like a high-schooler, seeking permission to leave the house for the afternoon before she had done her chores. To ensure that those feelings had no basis, she started to clear the table and stack the dishes in the sink.
“I’ll do those.” Irene shooed Carissa away from the sink.
Kai, who had disappeared into the back of the house a few moments earlier, now emerged with his dad’s suitcase in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. “I have the list, Mom. After I drop off Dad, I’ll stop to pick up everything. Call me if you think of anything else.”
Dan came from the back of the house just then, wearing a light sport jacket and a baseball cap. He gave Carissa a friendly wave good-bye and then headed out the front door with Irene scurrying along with her cane to see him off.
There. See? He’s gone. What you felt was silly and childish and wrong. Kai didn’t look at you twice. Get a grip on your thoughts and your emotions, Carissa! You’re bouncing all over the place.
She was going to take off, but then she thought she should wait until the three of them had a chance to load up and say their good-byes out front. To give them that space, she went to work loading the dishwasher. She had just placed the last bowl onto the bottom rack when Irene returned with a somber expression on her face.
“Everything okay?” As soon as she said it, Carissa realized she shouldn’t be probing. As gracious as Dan and Irene had been to her, she didn’t have the right to insert herself into their family life. Especially when she was trying to drown all inappropriate first impressions of their son.
Irene looked at her wistfully. “I’m going to miss him, and he’s going to miss out on the camping trip. It won’t be the same without him.”
Irene seated herself at the large dining room table that was still covered with reference books and an assortment of papers weighted down by a collection of flat rocks to keep from fluttering in the overhead fan’s breeze. She glanced over her shoulder at Carissa. “Did I tell you about the camping trip? I can’t remember.”
“No, I don’t think you mentioned it.” Carissa’s memory rippled back to past conversations but nothing about camping seemed to have been mentioned.
“We’re leaving in the morning and will be gone until Sunday.” With a twinkle in her eyes she added, “Although we could be back sooner, if my back doesn’t agree with the sleeping arrangements in the tent. I’ve asked Kai to agree to chauffeur me home whenever I’m ready to return.”
Now Carissa was impressed. Not only was this woman going camping, but also she was sleeping in a tent. The part of the information that appealed to Carissa most was that, for the next few days, she would have the cott
age and the garden to herself. Kai would be gone, too, which was another distraction she didn’t have to worry about. She could set her own schedule without surprise invitations to impromptu brunches.
“We’re going to one of my favorite places on the island.” Irene unfolded one of the maps in front of her on the table. “Would you like to see? Kipahulu. It’s right here. Not far from Hana.”
Carissa stepped over to the table and peered at the map. Irene picked up one of the pens on the table and circled the spot.
“Where are we now?” Carissa asked.
Irene drew a line and made another circle around an area labeled Kihei. It didn’t look as if they were very far from the camping area, but then the whole island, which was shaped like a bottom-heavy figure eight, didn’t appear to be very large.
Irene moved some of the papers around on the table and looked up at Carissa through her round-rimmed glasses. “Do you enjoy history, Carissa?”
Carissa gave her a sorta’-yes, sorta’-no gesture.
“I’m a bit of a nut about Hawaiian history.” Irene blushed. “Dan calls it my excusable obsession. He says it’s excusable because I’ve been invited to give a lecture next week on my research.”
“What are you researching?” Carissa had a sinking feeling that she might be stepping into a trap.
“Ka’ahumanu.”
Carissa had no idea if the word Irene just uttered referred to an animal, vegetable, or mineral. She kept standing as a ready escape plan so she wouldn’t get swept up in boring details about whatever it was.
“Ka’ahumanu was the favorite wife of Kamehameha the Great, the powerful ruler who united all the islands in the 1790s. He had at least eighteen wives. The historians can’t agree on the exact number. But she was his favorite.”
Carissa grinned. She didn’t mean to smile. It just struck her as funny that this darling little woman was surrounded by mounds of documents, and her important historical efforts started with a controversy of soap-opera proportions: How many wives did some ancient Hawaiian have, and which one was his favorite?