Freefall (21 page)
She stared out the window. To her right, tufts of gray clouds crawled down the more distant mountains. Sunshine warmed the grass and trees along the road. They passed through the quaint town of Kalaheo. The land flattened and the trees thinned. Fields of something like a cross between corn and palms stretched out, then more fields with rows of small, bushlike trees.
Amidst these, Cameron pulled into a parking lot, and she read the sign on the building that looked like an old house. The sign said Kauai Coffee Plantation.
“You wanted coffee.”
So he’d taken her to the plantation?
At her surprised look, he added, “Best-quality beans are only available at the source. It was either this or hop to the Big Island for Kona, my personal favorite.” He looked as though he’d have done it.
“I didn’t expect this.” She shook her head. “I just had to get out of there.”
He draped his wrist on the steering wheel. “You don’t want coffee?”
“I do.”
“Then let’s go.” He climbed out of the truck.
He’d been accused of sordid conduct and malicious negligence by a tabloid read and believed by too many people. He thought he could handle it, but he didn’t know how personal they could get—or how cruel. Most of the poison had been spent on her, but that was because they hadn’t had time to dig up his dirt. Unless something bigger drew their attention, that would come next.
The morning was warm, tempered by the ever-present breeze, and as they walked up the boardwalk, she breathed the aroma of coffee so fresh it had come from the fields around her. They entered the gift shop and passed through to a covered patio area where a video was describing the process of growing, harvesting, and roasting the beans. With the surprisingly few people there, she lowered her guard. She and Cameron could be two tourists, or even locals, or a local showing a friend the island; each scenario better than the reality.
They ordered and she paid. Her own credit card with her name. The woman inside didn’t even read it. Her heart soared until someone seated near the window approached. “Excuse me, aren’t you Gentry Fox?”
Cameron reached between them for the cups and smiled at the curious gal. “She gets that all the time.” He nudged her toward the outer courtyard, and they sat down with their backs to the shop.
Had the woman read the tabloids, she’d have recognized Cameron as well. Gentry shot him a glance. “That was so smooth, I’d think you were used to this.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” He sipped. “You probably have people approach you like that everywhere.”
“It’s just that you slipped into diversion so seamlessly. I could use you in the improv troupe.”
“I read and react to situations all the time. Amazing what scammers’ll spill when they think you’re in.” He dabbed a drop of coffee from his freshly trimmed mustache with his thumb.
She studied him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why the beard?”
He stroked the line he had reestablished that morning. “You don’t like it?”
“I like it. I just wondered what …”
“Intimidation.”
Her brows raised. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not built like TJ. It gives me an edge.”
“I thought I was imagining the effect.”
His eyes crinkled. “That’s why you wouldn’t get into my truck?”
“The intimidation came through loud and clear.”
He leaned back and cradled his cup. “Still intimidated?”
“I wouldn’t want you after me.”
“After you?”
She flushed. “I mean professionally.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that blush real?” She pressed a hand to her face.
“Come on … You’ve been in front of a camera for an audience of thousands, and you can still blush?”
“A camera doesn’t look at me like that.”
“Take your hand down.” His voice was soft and thick.
She slid her fingers off her eyes.
“All the way. Let me see you.”
No starstruck gaze. He appraised her as he had on their trek; curious, skeptical, amused. “Sort of miss the mud and soggy leaves.”
She laughed, then clutched her cup. “Cameron, I don’t want you hurt if this gets ugly.”
“Let me worry about me.”
She fought back tears. “You don’t know how bad it can get.”
“Yeah, Gentry, I do.” The way he said it sank in. “You’re not the only one who’s been dragged through stuff unjustly.”
She wanted him to say more, but he looked away and drank his coffee in silence.
In the hospital room, Nica rested her
palm on Hanah’s head. “How are you, Auntie Hanah?”
The old woman gave her a slow blink and the flicker of a smile.
TJ said, “They wen give her mo pain stuff.”
Nica turned to TJ’s mother wedged into a chair beside the bed. “Have you had any sleep, Auntie Malia?”
She shook her head. “Doze some, nevah sleep. Dis chair da kine tight.”
“Why don’t you let TJ take you home? I’ll sit with Auntie.”
“You so nice.” Malia looked from her to her son. “Why you nevah speak up? You nevah see da kine good girl?”
TJ’s complexion deepened.
She hefted herself up. “I go home now. You bettah make some kine use of dis time.”
TJ bent to give her a hand. “Drive careful. Go slow.”
“Go slow? You da kine slow.” She waved her hands at him, then turned back to her. “He tink you break.” She looked her up and down. “Maybe he right.” She waddled from the room.
TJ stood by the wall trying to disappear inside himself like a sea turtle. He mumbled, “Sorry,” then pulled the chair his mother had vacated over to her. “Sit?”
Nica looked into his face without sitting. “What did she mean
break
?” Or need she ask. People thought she’d been on the verge of a nervous breakdown her whole life. Yes, she gave sensitive new meaning. Why God had made her feel others’ pain so acutely, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to break. “TJ?”
He spread his hands, then dropped them at his sides. He rubbed his palm across his forehead.
“How am I going to break, TJ?”
He extended his hand. “You so small.” His face had reddened to a fierce mahogany. “Mama want grandkids. I tink no room for da kine baby… .” He swallowed. “My kine baby.” A drop of sweat rose at his hairline and slid down his temple.
Her jaw fell slack. “You and your mother talked about me having your babies?”
He tried to shrink into the wall.
“You’ve been following me around thirteen years without saying how you feel, but you talked to Auntie Malia about having babies with me?”
His forehead streamed.
She moved the chair back to the corner by the bed and sat down. Hanah had fallen asleep. With her gaze fixed on the old woman’s face, she said, “I’m no smaller than my mother, who bore two babies eleven months apart with no problem.”
TJ pulled a wad of tissues from the box on the shelf and swabbed his face, then stuffed it into his pocket and puffed out his chest. “I wen weigh twelve pound. You tink you could manage dat?”
She looked up. “Not much chance, since you’ve never so much as kissed my hand.”
Having spent half the night in the hospital in his uniform, he was rumpled and soggy, but he stepped over and took her hand. Instead of bending to kiss it, he pulled her up from the chair, circled her back with his muscular arm, and kissed her with the softest mouth she could have imagined.
Cameron cleared his throat. The last thing he’d expected to find back at the hospital was TJ finally making a move on his sister. The big guy let go so fast, she tumbled back into the chair. Her face pinked, but TJ’s was downright scary.
“What’re you doing, brah? Can’t you see this is private?”
What he saw was that TJ was more than a little worked up. If he decided to put his muscle where his mouth was, Cameron would feel it for weeks. But then it was Nica he’d dropped. “You better work on your technique, bruddah.”
Nica crossed her knees, and they shared a smile. “Where’s Gentry?”
“With her uncle. Thought I’d scoot in and see how Auntie Hanah’s doing.” He glanced at TJ’s grandmother. “Some chaperone.”
The storm brewed in TJ’s face. Had to be the most emotion he’d seen there in years. Hospitals did that. So did love. He’d pretty much decided that neither of them would cross the barrier they’d maintained since he and TJ had turned seventeen, the year TJ decided Nica was the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Cameron wasn’t sure he’d actually laid eyes on her again for the next decade. Instead he’d had some sort of homing device that pulled him around to wherever Nica was but rendered him dumb and mute.
She said, “I looked for you when I first got here. A woman said you and Gentry had left.”
“Gentry needed coffee.”
“You flew her to Kona Le‘a?”
He smiled. “The local plantation was the best I could do on short notice.” He turned to TJ. “How’s Auntie Hanah?”
“It’s only a hairline. The dog is so fat, he cushioned her fall.”
The same could be said for Hanah. “How’s the dog?”
“Indestructible. It’s the poi.”
TJ without the pidgin wasn’t entirely new. He dropped it when dealing with tourists, especially when giving out tickets. But a whole conversation in front of Nica? He must be chest-puffing proud of himself. A pang worked its way through Cameron. He hoped—no, prayed—they wouldn’t get burned.
TJ moved toward the door. “I gotta make a call.”
When he’d gone out, Cameron turned to his sister. “So …”
“So?”
“Let’s see.” He counted on his fingers. “Only thirteen years. Dat’s da kine quick for TJ Kanakanui.”
She pushed his arm.
“Guess he’ll be over for dinner tonight.”
“Maybe.”
Like it wasn’t a foregone conclusion. Once TJ got moving, his inertia was an unstoppable force. “What are you making?”
“Spam musubi.”
“Ah, break da mout!”
Nica laughed. “He wants to smuggle some to Hanah.”
Fried Spam on sticky rice wrapped in nori seaweed was an island tradition, but somehow the hospital hadn’t put it on the menu. A serious oversight.
She slipped a tendril of hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“And risk TJ’s wrath?”
Nica tipped her head. “Have you ever seen him angry?”
“Once. When I blew up his lunchbox.” That hadn’t been pretty. “And a minute ago when I interrupted.”
“He wasn’t angry. Just … surprised.”
Cameron sobered. “I’m glad he’ll be there tonight. I had wanted him to keep an eye on Gentry, but I’d rather he watched over you. The tabloids are making a big deal out of this.”
“Why would they care about me?”
“Because you had Gentry in your home.” He rested his hands on his hips. “And you haven’t had the most normal life the last few years.
If they connect you with some of those people …”
“Those people needed compassion and care. You know I couldn’t turn them away.”
“These hounds are not concerned with the facts, only the sensational impact.”
She shook her head. “Poor Gentry. I can’t imagine.”
“I hope you never have to.”
It hurt to see Uncle Rob looking so vulnerable. Part of her wished she’d let Mom come. Or that she could reach Aunt Allegra. Or that she knew which of her friends she could still trust, that she didn’t have to watch every word, every glance. And she wished other people’s lives weren’t damaged by contact with hers. She left her uncle and found Cameron, TJ, and Nica all together in the waiting room.
Nica stood up and hugged her. “How are you?”
“All right. Uncle Rob hasn’t stirred, but that’s probably good.” She turned to TJ where he sat, hands planted on his brawny thighs. “How’s your grandmother?”
“She’s okay.” He rubbed his thighs. “You remember what happened yet? I need to make a report.”
She shook her head. “Things are coming back, but nothing to do with the accident.”
Cameron must be right that she’d blocked the worst parts. Sitting with her uncle, she had thought about Troy. He’d joined the troupe at thirteen, a precocious, angry foster kid. He’d been the most consistent of them all, never missing a rehearsal, gaining skills and confidence, and shedding his belligerence. By fifteen he’d gained a special position, more apprentice than student. All
that
she remembered, but she couldn’t remember what had gone wrong.
Cameron met her gaze. “It’s all in there. Just needs a way out.”
That was what frightened her. Would she remember something she’d done? A mistake on the trail with Uncle Rob, in the troupe with Troy? Words or actions that had devastating results?
Reading the articles had shocked and depressed her. The reporters had embellished his smallest suggestion, twisted and pumped it up. Then there had been an investigation. Legal authorities had taken it seriously. And she recalled none of it. She shook her head. “The whole world knows more than I do.”
Nica sat down beside her. “The pressure must be awful. Everyone watching, speculating. No wonder celebrities cut themselves off.”
Gentry shrugged. “It’s a reverse process, really. Friends betray you; peers want to know why you and not them. Everyone else just wants a piece of the action. I’m a commodity.” She smiled into Nica’s soft gray eyes. “For a few days, I got to feel what it was like before. Thank you.”
