The Ohana (18 page)

Honolulu: 1946

Diana Towle, his opponent in the Maui Pine case, was the most attractive adversary Sean ever had. Her striking green eyes dominated her elfin face framed with curly, reddish-brown hair. She was tiny with a trim figure. Her predilection for turbans and upswept hairdos made her stand out in the crowd.

At their first meeting, she waited for him in front of the Dillingham Transportation Building, her right foot tapping and her eyes darting around. She kept looking at her watch even though he was on time.

Grayson Wilkes assigned him the case while sitting behind his massive Koa Wood desk tapping a pen on the glossy golden brown surface. “This never happened in the old days. Now the unions send mainland lawyers here to unionize the workers. The lawyer assigned to this particular case is a woman. I bet she’s more like a man than a woman.”

However, the woman standing before him now looked every bit like a woman. And a good-looking one at that.

“Diana Towle.” Sean smiled eyeing her appreciatively. “I recognize the white suit you told me to look for. I’m Sean Duffy.”

Diana held out her hand to him.

 “Glad to meet you,” she said as she shook his hand. “You’re the-best looking foe I’ve ever had.”

Sean grinned. Blunt females seemed to dog his footsteps. “Well, Miss Towle, I was about to say the same to you.”

“I hope we’re not having lunch at some dreary downtown café.” She tilted her head.

“What about the Moana Hotel?” He spoke with all the charm he possessed.

“Mr. Duffy.” She took his arm. “You are a man of splendid taste.”

Over lunch, he admired her as she leaned back in her wicker chair smoking a cigarette, and gazing out at the beach. For the first time, he noticed the green flecks in her eyes and the slightly ruddy tone of her skin. “Many an O’Toole became Towle,” he commented.

“The name was Tannenbaum. My grandfather changed it because my genius uncle kept getting turned down by Oxford. After they became Towle, both my uncle and father were accepted to medical school without a problem.” Her eyes flitted to the beach. “Racism exists all over the world, even here in Paradise. Look at that.” She pointed to the beach.

He turned and saw two security guards from the hotel talking to a dark-skinned Hawaiian boy in a swimming suit. The boy was angry and embarrassed. The guards grabbed his elbows and dragged him off the beach.

She sat forward in her seat. “What are they doing?”

He turned back to her. “They’re telling him he has to leave.”

“Why?” Diana clenched her jaw.

“Because he’s not a hotel guest.”

“You mean because he’s not
haole
.” Diana curled her lip.

Sean shook his head. “That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s true. All the hotel guests …” she waved her hand, “are as white as the driven snow.”

“I don’t think you understand us here in Hawaii.”

“Oh, I understand all right.” She took a drag on her cigarette. “Most of the
haoles
live and act like gods while keeping others in their place. Look at that
kanaka
boy. He has more right to this beach than anyone. We pushed the Indians into reservations and the Hawaiians into obscurity. Tell me, Mr. Duffy, what right do we have to invade a primitive culture and simply take over?”

To Sean’s chagrin his charming, witty, and somewhat flirtatious companion had become querulous. Her charm and beauty had caused him to underestimate her. “It’s the way things are,” he replied.

“Is that your answer?” She ground her cigarette into the ashtray. “What about equality, justice, human rights, and the Constitution? That’s why I’m here; to battle for what’s right by overthrowing the way things are.”

Sean turned the conversation to their case. “Your battle is a loser because all four hundred of your clients are wrong. The territorial laws regarding the unlawful Assembly and Riot Act…”

Diana interrupted, “Are unlawful.” The green points in Diana’s dark eyes lit up. “I’ll prove it all the way up to the Supreme Court. The laws were created to stop the unions. Your clients sent sugar cane workers to prison for twenty years in the thirties. It won’t work this time. None of my people will spend a day behind bars. Last time I checked, Hawaii was still a territory of the United States.”

Sean sipped his champagne, twirled the stem of his glass and put it down. “I commend you for your compassion. But you’re making a mistake. Our system in Hawaii works. You know why? Because everyone is content and knows their place. Don’t stir up trouble with talk of your mainland ideas and unions. They have no place in the islands.”

Diana pushed her chair back further and glared. “Justice always has a place.” Without another word, she got up and left.

Judging by Diana’s passion, this case was not going to be easy.

Sean ran his hand along Meg’s side and marveled over her perfection. He buried his face in her hair, wondering why she had been so quiet lately.

“Please drop the Maui Pine Sugar Planters case,” she finally said while tracing the curve of his cheek.

His hands stopped roaming. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to win.”

Sean turned her face toward him. “You want me to lose?”

“Yes.” She bit her lip.

“Besides the fact it’s totally unethical to purposely lose a case, don’t you realize what’s at stake? It’s not just about Maui Pine. We’re talking about Hawaii, your family, and our way of life.”

“I understand. That’s why I want you to lose.”

He released her, rolled onto his back, and stared at the ceiling. “Okay, make me understand what’s going on in your pretty head.”

 “I hate the caste system here.” Meg sat up, her face flushed. “It’s immoral and unfair. I’m embarrassed my family helped spawn this unjust system for material gain. My missionary grandparents would be appalled. Justice would be served by losing this case.”

Sean sat up and grasped her shoulders in his hands. “If you can’t forgive your own people for what you believe to be their weakness and sins, doesn’t that make you just as bad as them?”

Meg shook free. “You don’t understand because you’re blind! You'd do just about anything to be one of them. Well, I'm one of them and I’m ashamed of it!”

“You have a name that opens doors.”

Meg looked away. “I don’t care about that. I’m just Meg.”

He studied her for a moment; his passion renewed. “Just Meg is all I want,” he said, then nibbled on her earlobe.

“Then you’ll quit?” Meg turned back to him and put her hand on his cheek.

He leaned away from her. “I can’t. There’s a lot at stake for me. I’m trying to build a future. Besides, my quitting won’t stop the case from proceeding. They might even assign a more senior partner.”

“At least you wouldn’t be involved.” Meg put her hand on his back.

Sean turned to her. “Let me make my position clear. We can’t allow the Islands to be run by unions.” He left their bed, picked up a cigarette from the dresser and lit it. He paced as he smoked. “Don’t be misled by idealists who talk about fairness, equality, and the distribution of wealth. All men are not created equal. Unions use force and intimidation to make the worker king. No one wants the unions to take over.”

“Except Diana Towle.”

“The newspapers call her the Commie Queen.” Sean stopped pacing for a moment and smiled slightly. “Some lawyers and businessmen in Honolulu refuse to walk on the same sidewalk as her.” Sean put the cigarette to rest in a crystal ashtray. “It’s over for her anyway. She lost the backing of her San Francisco law firm. Labor can’t afford to pay her enough to keep her office going. All we have to do is drag it out and she’ll be forced to fold. No one else will take the case here in the Islands.”

Meg hugged her knees to her naked chest. “So the people will lose.”

“It takes a lot of money to fight a legal battle.”

“And nothing will change because of lack of money.” She rested her cheek on her knees.

Sean retrieved the cigarette and drew on it, then blew smoke toward the ceiling. “The little people can’t afford the fight.”

“The little people?” Meg frowned. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Sean stubbed out his cigarette. “The truth is men are divided from birth by intellect. Like most of the world, I recognize, respect, and understand the concept of inequality.”

“Most of the people in America were rejects from all over the world,” Meg lifted her head, her blue eyes flashing. “Your family included.”

Sean felt his jaw clench. “I’ll ignore that statement.”

“And you sound just like my uncles and father.”

“I consider that statement a compliment. They're intelligent, practical visionaries.”

“Like you, Sean?” Meg whispered.

“Like me,” Sean said.

A week later the doorbell rang at Sean’s Kahala home. He opened it, expecting Meg. Instead, Katherine stood before him with her up-swept red hair. She wore a flower printed silk dress belted at the waist and fell in soft gathers around her full hips and legs. She was a handsome woman who, by Sean’s estimation, looked older than her twenty-three years.

Sean smiled. “Miss Ritchie, it’s a pleasure to see you. You’re looking lovely today.”

“Why do you always call me Miss Ritchie? My name is Katherine.”

“Well, then, Katherine it is. What can I do for you?”

Katherine raised her chin. “You can invite me in.”

He opened the door and she swept past him. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Katherine walked to the picture window. “Lovely view.” She turned away from the window, her eyes scanned the room. “Cozy.”

“Thank you. What can I do for you, Katherine?”

“Do you still have my necklace?”

“Yes, it turned out to be a good luck charm,” he said. “You can have it back if that’s why you’re here.”

“I’m not an Indian giver. I’m glad it gave you luck.” She exhaled heavily. "I wanted to make sure you were all right. I read about your war wounds."

"I'm fine." He motioned to a chair. “Please sit down.”

Katherine sat. “Thank you.”

 "What about you?" Sean sat across from her. “I’m sure half the men in Honolulu are chasing you.”

“I’m not interested in anyone.” Katherine clutched her purse closer to the flat of her stomach. “Is there someone in your life?”

Sean cleared his throat. “That’s a rather personal question.”

“Just tell me if you’re in love with someone.”

“Yes,” Sean looked out the French doors.

Katherine’s face turned beet-red. “I should've guessed. How stupid of me.”

“Katherine.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” She stood. “I really must be going now.”

Sean escorted Katherine toward the door.

“I know the way out.”

Once outside, Sean watched Katherine slip into her distinctive green Jaguar. After she had driven away, he sat down on a rocker on the porch and waited for Meg. He wondered why she was late. Had she seen her sister’s car?

An hour later, Sean walked back into the house and phoned Meg.

But the phone rang and rang. Finally, Sean hung up.

Sean pounded on the door to Meg’s house in Tantalus. Two weeks had passed since he had seen or heard from her. He thought she loved him. But she disappeared as mysteriously as she had reappeared in his life.

Fumi opened the door a fraction, but kept the chain lock on. “What?”

“I want to see Mrs. Brandon,” he demanded.

“She no stay here.” She started to close the door.

Sean pushed against the door until the chain was taut. “Where is she?”

“Missy not here!” Fumi tried to push the door shut again.