Haole Wood (6 page)

The harmonic swirl of voices with disjointed accents, kids screaming, mothers laughing, dads boogie-boarding, wafted along the breeze of all that smells good. The waves retreated. Matching alpha waves deep in my psyche meditated on the stillness of the earth holding its breath. I may have snored.

A quick shadow darted beneath the wide brim of my hat. I started, as if a timer hit the end of its metronome. I sat up and stretched, and pulled my hat forward on my head, impressed as always with the aquamarine hue of the water meeting an ethereal blue sky. There were even more people celebrating in the sand. I reached for my water bottle and gasped.

Oh no. I snatched my arm back in disbelief. I lightly rubbed at the fine golden hairs. How long had I been out there? My skin started to feel prickly. I grabbed my T-shirt, and stretched it wide, wrestling with my hat and sunglasses as I struggled to take cover. My shoulders hurt, already. That was not good, not good at all. I jumped up, grabbed my towel, book and water and headed for the path back to my grandmother’s house. I had to stop for a second and wait for a wave of dizziness to pass. I had to get out of the sun, and even before I stopped seeing spots, I trotted on down the lane.

“Halmoni,” I called as the screen door slammed behind me. “Halmoni, where are you? I need you.”

Halmoni slipped up behind me and poked my shoulder. I jumped. “Ouch. Halmoni. There you are. Look.” I pulled off my T-shirt. “I got burned.”

Halmoni shook her head and pushed me onto the couch while she hurried into the kitchen.

I shivered as my traumatized skin tingled. My grandmother came back into the room and scooted next to me on the couch. I turned so Halmoni could rub the cool, greenish-smelling oil over my shoulders and arms. Her fingers were so gentle as they smoothed my skin.

“Is that kukui nut oil, Halmoni?” She grunted and started on my other side. “I bet you can brush your teeth with that stuff, remove nail polish, grow hair and cure the common cold,” I said. Kukui nuts were everywhere in Hawaii. Their bright black polished hulls were made into bracelets and necklaces. The oil was used for just about everything. If only it could be the magic solution for all my problems.

How naive I had been. If anything, kukui nut oil became the catalyst for disaster.

I held my breath and arched my back as Halmoni dabbed over a sensitive spot on my shoulder, then pushed my T-shirt back into place. I resumed my favorite position on the couch. As the afternoon wore on, I could feel my sunburn tightening the skin on my arms and cheeks. It hurt to move. I would feel chilled, then achy. My grandmother kept pouring more foul-tasting tea down my throat, in between taking phone calls and receiving visitors and doling out herbs.

“Not that,” I would sometimes hear her tell one of her, what? Clients? Patients? Customers? I gingerly repositioned myself on the sofa, surfing channels, and feeling sorry for myself while I listened to my grandmother peeling off a stream of sentences, “da-di-da, da-di-da.”

I dozed on and off, and finally whooped it up to drag myself into the kitchen. I was a little hungry, and, hearing voices, curious about what my grandmother was up to. “Hello . . .” I said to the group of surfers standing around her table. Outside the screen door there were a few more guys, waiting around. “What’s going on?” I couldn’t figure out what my grandmother, who sat in a chair, was doing. I pushed my hair over my ears. “Halmoni?”

“Hey,” said the surfer, kneeling at my grandmother’s feet. Even in that position, he looked really tall, his beach-blond head of tangled curls resting in her lap.

“What are you doing?” I asked both of them.

“Not that.”

The surfer turned his head to the other side. I watched as Halmoni used what looked like a hairpin to begin digging in the guy’s ear. My hand covered my mouth.

The other two guys standing there laughed at my reaction. “She’s digging for gold, man,” one of them said to me.

“Why?”

“Dude,” said the same brown-haired freckly-faced kid. “You obviously never had swimmer’s ear.” He put his hands over his own ears and rubbed gently.

“Ouch,” the other guy said, tugging at his own ears.

“Your granny is wicked awesome. Your name’s Jaswinder, right? Pretty name for a pretty girl. Your granny told us all about you.”

In what language, exactly, I wondered.

He lifted his eyebrows up to his hairline. “Whoa. First day with the white skin? That is gonna hurt,” he leaned over and peered into my red face. “You should have started off with the Japanese tourists.” He smiled at me. “They never get sunburns. I don’t know what their secret is. But your granny will take care of you. She keeps us all high and dry.” He nodded over at my grandmother, who, as I watched, put some kind of drops in the ear of the guy’s head on her lap.

“Ah,” he said, as if he were getting his feet massaged or something, instead of having his ear wax excavated.

“Mrs. Park. Thank you so much,” he said, standing and tossing his hair. He smiled and squeezed my grandmother’s small hands in his. “Righteous.” My grandmother, looking like she just won the lottery instead of a wad of Kleenex dotted with amber goo, grinned and clapped and motioned for her next victim.

“Your granny is famous,” said the big blond-haired guy. “I’m Zev. Nothing can stop us surfers. I surfed the day I had my wisdom teeth pulled. Kenny,” he nodded to the freckly kid who was now kneeling and putting his head onto my grandmother’s lap, surfed the day his father died. Sorry, dude,” he called out as Kenny waved his hand. “Bronco,” he jerked his head to the guy not wearing a T-shirt, thank you very much, “cried like a baby the first time he got the ear ache. It’s bad. You can’t surf with an ear ache. But, your grandmother has the magic touch.”

“So you guys always come here and have her clean your ears?”

“Wednesday’s wax day, and we’re not talking about our boards.” They all laughed. I did, too.

“She keeps you all healthy?”

“None of us,” he waved his hand out back to include the others, “have had an ear infection since we started coming here. You should try it. It’s amazing what she can pull out of there.” He waved a shaka sign, his teeth bright white inside his tanned cheeks.

I felt a surge of pounding, as a headache settled in my brain. “Haven’t you ever heard of Q-tips?”

They all laughed again.

“Q-tips are for amateurs,” Bronco said. “Haven’t you ever heard you’re not supposed to stick anything in your ear larger than your elbow? Besides, it’s not like a bunch of brothers are going to sit around and pull that shit out, sorry Mrs. Park, of each other’s ears. In fact,” Bronco walked closer to me and tried to look into my ear.

“Stop,” I said. As I waved him off my burned arm cringed. His skin was darker than the other two guys, and between his abs and his shorts that hung low on his hips, he could have been in a grown-up Coppertone baby ad.

“Seriously, you gotta do it. You know how good you feel after you get your teeth cleaned? This so much better. Freeing.”

“I even surf better after your Grandma empties the trash out of my head,” Zev said.

Bronco laughed. “He gets his ears cleaned before surfing competitions.”

“You got to try it,” Kenny piped up.

“No, thanks,” I said. When I turned to head back to the living room to enjoy my sunburn in peace, Zev grabbed my hand. “Come on, Kenny. Any more and she’s going to start pulling grey matter. Let Jaswinder take a turn.”

“I’m good,” I said, tugging away from Zev. I didn’t stand a chance. Kenny got up and maneuvered me to the floor in front of Halmoni. My grandmother’s strong, sure hands nestled my head into her lap and smoothed back my hair. I hugged her thighs and tensed, and prepared for a sharp jab in my ear.

Surprise. It did feel good. My grandmother gently swirled her implement on the upper and outer ridges of my ear canal. It tickled. She also massaged my earlobe and I began to relax.

“Ooh, look at that! Good one!” I thought that was Kenny doing a play-by-play. Hot surfer guys in Maui admired my ear wax production, that my grandma harvested, like a pig rooting for truffles. I suppose I did still have some alcohol toxins on board.

“Da-di-da, da-di-da,” Halmoni said, before squeezing drops into my ear. She placed her hands on my cheeks and turned my head, and repeated the ritual on the other side.

I stood up as the guys watched, waiting for my reaction. I nodded and smiled. “It’s good. Really good. Even my headache feels better.” It did, too. “Mahalo, Halmoni.” My grandmother beamed.

“Do you surf?” Zev asked.

“No.” I could feel their disappointment.

“But, I want to learn, someday.” I did, too.

“We’ll teach you. Say the word. Anything for Mrs. Park and her hot granddaughter.”

I couldn’t blush because my cheeks were already beet red. “Thanks. Not today, though.” I shrugged my stiff arms, as if they couldn’t see my ridiculous sunburn.

“We’ll take your grandmother to pick up her car in Lahaina, too.”

“Thanks.” I nodded, hoping the flush hid my guilty look.

I grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and headed back to my sanctuary in the living room. My mood lifted, but my shoulders were burning.

I wondered if the hunky Hawaiian guy from the bar I gave my number to would call me before I left Maui, or better yet, the sexy surfer, Dr. Jac. Too bad I never gave him my phone number. Well, too bad he never asked for it. He did know where I stayed, since he drove me home, but I really didn’t picture him driving back here, pulling up and asking for more sex. Goosebumps marched along my arms as I remembered last night. It would be embarrassing if I ever did see him again, anyway. That’s why they are called one night stands. I quirked my lips to wipe that stupid smile off my face.

I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to the sounds of silence, which I could hear really well now with my new super keen, super clean ears. Aside from that, though, I really wasn’t feeling very well. My face was clammy and I felt feverish, not just warm from the tropical air. I scrolled through a couple of channels, pausing to catch the end of a music video on VH1, “Let it Burn.” Har har.

I rolled off the couch and went back into the kitchen for another bottle of water, and pulled out a tub of cottage cheese from the refrigerator. My grandmother must have gone to the grocery store for me, bless her heart, after the Saint Surfer boys helped her pick up her jeep. The cool air from the refrigerator felt good as I kept looking. I pushed aside the kimchi, scooted over a carton of milk, poked at plastic-wrapped fish heads, ugh, and dropped down for a better look at the bottom shelf, fearing the worst. I reached in, maneuvering past the lettuce, carrots and onions my grandmother stuffed in there. It has to be here. Ah. Blindly, my fingers grasped onto the familiar plastic bottle. Bingo! Halmoni remembered.

I smiled and pulled out the ketchup. I squirted what would have been a healthy dollop if it had just been a plain tomato slice, over my bowl of cottage cheese and then opened the bag of Hawaiian Sweet Maui Onion potato chips that my grandmother left on the counter for me. I dipped a chip into the cottage cheese and ketchup, and crammed the whole thing in my mouth. “Mmm.”

I blinked my eyes. It was so weird. I thought I saw something flutter over in the corner. I thought I was getting heat exhaustion. That sun was a killer.

Crunching gravel and squealing tires announced the end of the good ol’ days when my biggest worries were merely a sunburn and no future. At the pounding knocks I rushed to the front door.

“Maui PD. Open up!”

I opened the door as my grandmother scurried out of the kitchen and dried her hands on a white towel. Two officers stood there, blocking the sun. They flashed their badges as if they were auditioning for a scene in
Hawaii Five-O
. How I could have used a big dose of Steve McGarrett right about then—a la Alex O'Loughlin. No such luck. I squinted. No Daniel Dae Kim, either. Not even Kono. I sighed. Wrong island, I know. They’re too busy keeping Oahu safe.

“What’s wrong?” I asked them.

“We need to talk to Mrs. Park,” said one of the officers. He nodded over my shoulder at Halmoni. She motioned them into the living room.

Uh oh. This couldn’t be good. Was she still doing her so-called business? “Who are you?” The Detective who looked like he was in charge asked me.

“I’m Jaswinder Park. I’m her granddaughter. I’m just visiting from San Diego.” Yikes, I was nervous. I was getting a very bad feeling, along with feeling very bad. My face felt flushed, as if I had a fever.

“I’m Detective Imada,” said the older Hawaiian Detective, “and this is Detective Morgan. We need to ask you and your grandmother some questions.” My grandmother smiled at him as if she recognized him. He nodded respectfully before flipping open his notepad.

“What’s the problem?” I asked. If jail couldn’t convince her weed was illegal, what could? Why wouldn’t they just leave this little old lady alone? She was as sweet as I remembered her. Time for damage control. “Do you officers know my grandmother? She’s lived here all her life, and she helps so many people. I don’t know why you keep bothering her. What could she have possibly done wrong?”

Sweat beaded on the faces of the detectives who wore poly-blend hotbox suits. Detective Imada cleared his throat and swiped his hand over his Hawaiian helmet of hair, that had no gray. The kimchi burp he tried to hide as he exhaled smelled like it had hitchhiked in on a bus full of Korean grandfathers.

“We’re investigating a murder.”

“What?” I squawked. “Who was murdered? Whoa. And what makes you think my grandmother knows anything about it? She’s been around here all week. I came out from San Diego and got her out of jail myself the other day.” Good one. Remind them of her shady past.

“Where were you last night?” Detective Morgan asked. He didn’t look that much older than me. He had dark hair but lighter skin than Detective Imada, which gave me no clue to his nationality. His muscles bulged through the sleeves of his jacket. He looked like he’d forgotten to shave the left side of his face, or only had a five o’clock shadow between the three o’clock and six o’clock positions on his cheek.