I'm Kona Love You Forever (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series Book 6) (10 page)

I went inside.

“I’m looking for Loke Vick,” I said to a woman in back. She was putting price stickers on mugs featuring the “Naturally Kona” logo. I shot her a toothy smile. “Is she available?”

The woman took my measure, as if deciding whether I
was there to serve her a subpoena or to interview her for a feature story in
Coffee Talk
. Seems my cheeriness won out.

“I’m Loke,” she said. “How can I help you?”

“Is there somewhere we could talk, in private?”

She glanced around the store. We were the only people in there.

“This is about as private as it gets,” she said. “A tour just went out so I’m not expecting anyone for another fifteen minutes.”

I dug Lili’s bogus birth certificate out of my beach bag purse. “I’m sorry to
bring this up, but it seems you had a baby girl eighteen years ago. According to public records, she died shortly after birth. Is that correct?”

Her eyes widened as if I
had
come in to serve her subpoena and she’d been accused of a particularly heinous crime. She turned away.

“Again, I’m sorry
,” I said. “But there’s been a development.”

She turned back. Her cheeks had reddened and
her eyes were now narrowed in fury. “How dare you come in here asking a question like that? I don’t even know your name.”

Oops. Seems I’d forgotten the first rule of
civility. At least introduce yourself before you go crashing into someone’s heartbreaking past.

CHAPTER 12

After I introduced myself and explained why I was there, Loke seemed to calm down a little. She led me to a back corner of the gift shop where they’d placed four cozy upholstered armchairs around an actual “coffee table” on which they’d placed an air pot of the “Coffee of the Day.” She picked up two beautiful green and blue hand-thrown stoneware mugs with “Naturally Kona” embedded in the clay and pumped coffee into them out of the pot.

“I hope you
’re a coffee drinker,” she said. “That’s pretty much all we have here.”

“
Mahalo
,” I said. “I love coffee.” I didn’t ask for cream or sugar even though I never drink black coffee. I recalled a time when I’d requested ketchup at a fancy Honolulu steakhouse and the waiter had shot me a withering look while telling me they didn’t keep any on the premises.

“I hope it’s still hot,” she said.
“I made this pot an hour ago.”

I sipped the
impossibly dark liquid, preparing for the bitterness. It was surprisingly smooth. “It’s great. I’m sorry about being so abrupt earlier. I apologize if I seemed insensitive.”

“
No offense taken. I just can’t believe after all this time the wound feels so fresh. You got kids?”

I shook my head.
“Maybe someday.”

“Well, don’t wait too long,” she said. “
Ray and I have been trying for twelve years now. Right after I lost Lili, I couldn’t imagine going through that again. But Ray was very persuasive. After a year I stopped using birth control, but it seems my body won’t cooperate. Every month that goes by it’s like losing her all over again.”

I nodded.
Anything I said would probably only cement her earlier assessment of me as a tactless jerk.

“So
, what can I do to help?” she said.

“I’m trying to figure out why my client has your daughter’s birth certificate,” I said.
I explained the mix-up with Lili’s birth certificate and how she’d been using the wrong one all these years.

“I have no idea. You said she’s
hanai
? That she was raised on Maui?” Loke said.

“Yes.”

“Maybe there was a mix-up at the records office. You know, Lili was born at home but then they rushed her to the hospital as soon as the midwife determined she was having trouble breathing. I was pretty out of it, so I’m not too sure what happened after that. Maybe Lili’s paperwork got swapped with another baby born at the same time.”

“That’s possible, but I had a friend at
the Vital Records Office check on it and there’s no record of another baby girl born within a week of your daughter.”

“And you’re sure
the girl you’re talking about was born here in Kona?” she said.

“
According to my client, that’s what her
hanai
mom told her.”

“Then I can’t imagine what else
could have happened.”

We sat there, me sipping the
amazingly good coffee, her glancing nervously around the shop. When she sneaked a peek at her watch, I stood up. “I really need to let you get back to work,” I said. “
Mahalo
for your time. If you think of anything else, would you mind giving me a call?” I gave her my “Let’s Get Maui’d” business card.

She looked down at the card and her eyes got shiny. “A girl my daughter’s age is getting married? It seems impossible.”

“It will be impossible if I can’t track down her birth certificate.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” she said. “I mean,
she’s awfully young.”

“They
both are. But in my line of work I see a lot of couples. David and Lili seem to be one of those one-in-a-hundred couples you hear about who find each other early in life and it just clicks. I’m no expert but I’m betting they’ll be married forever.”

She stood.
“I wish I could’ve been more help,” she said.

“I wish I could’ve been more sensitive,” I said.

She leaned in and gave me a quick hug. “No worries. You’re fine, Pali. It’s just that some things are forever. Losing a child is like a tattoo on your heart.”

***

I drove back to Kailua-Kona and found Hatch at a beachside bar. As we drove to the B & B he rattled on about how he’d met a guy at the bar who was studying for the civil service test to become a firefighter and how he’d encouraged him to go for it.

I nodded and made appropriate noises of app
roval, but my mind was back at “Naturally Kona.” I felt lousy about dragging up memories of Loke’s private hell in such a clumsy way.

“Do you think I’m insensitive?” I said.

“What? You?” Hatch’s brow creased. “Nah. You’re the nicest person I know. You want to see insensitive? Come down to the station some night when we’ve got a new rookie onboard. The guys spend days,
weeks
, coming up with stuff to torture them with. Did I ever tell you about the time the guys froze a probie’s car keys in a block of ice? When the dude’s shift was over, he couldn’t find his keys…”

He went on but I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about how
my entire adult life I’d managed to avoid getting a tattoo—on my heart or anywhere else.

***

That night we went to dinner at Jackie Rey’s. The concierge at the B & B claimed it was a Kona institution, with a huge following and great food. We arrived during “aloha hour” which meant we got a few bucks off our
mai tais
as well as a plate of some of the freshest-tasting
ahi poke
I’d had in quite a while.

As w
e headed back to our room something popped into my head. We got inside and I took out my cell phone.

“Sorry,” I said to Hatch. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He ripped off his T-shirt and started unbuttoning his shorts. I smiled and went on, “Okay, make that thirty
seconds.
”

“
Aloha
, Loke,” I said when the caller picked up. “Sorry to bother you again so soon, but I have a question about the midwife who signed your daughter’s birth certificate.”

There was a pause and Loke said, “Now isn’t a good time for me. C
an we talk about this tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, of course. Tomorrow will be fine.”

“How about we meet at Lili’s gravesite?” she said. “I usually go there on Sunday mornings.”

It
was about the last place I ever wanted to go. But after my clumsy lack of
aloha
earlier that afternoon and then interrupting her evening, I felt obliged to agree.

“Sure. Where
’s the cemetery? And what time is good for you?”

She gave me directions and told me she
normally got there early. We made plans to meet at eight o’clock at Kona Memorial Park off the Mamalahoe Highway. Hatch was sanguine about getting up so early. He’d made tentative plans to go surfing with his wanna-be firefighter friend and he said the best swells and fewest people would be right after daybreak.

As we were getting ready for bed—me in my naughty see-through nightie
, Hatch in a pair of boxers featuring romping Dalmatians—he reached out and took my hand.

“I’ve been thinking
about something,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“You think Farrah and Ono are happier than they were before?”

“Of course.
Don’t you remember all that stuff Farrah went through last year?” I said.  “And Ono—well, Ono literally wound up face down in a ditch. I’d say they’re probably both a lot happier since they found each other.”

“But how about the marriage thing?
Do you think they’re glad they got married instead of just living together?”

I had
an inkling where this was headed.

“I don’t know. Farrah seems over-the-moon, but
that’s pretty typical of newlyweds.”

“You ever think about it?” he said.
“You know, about marriage?”

We locked eyes. I loved Hatch and I knew he loved me. But
for me, marriage was one of those “tattoo” things. It was for life. I wasn’t about to paint myself in a corner so I deflected the question.

“Are you kidding? I’m a wedding planner.
Marriage is pretty much my life’s work.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

We enjoyed each other’s company for the next hour or so and I fell asleep a few minutes after midnight. Six-thirty a.m. would roll around long before I wanted to get up. But then, I figured no matter how long I slept I’d never be ready to visit a baby’s grave.

CHAPTER 13

Hatch leaned in and kissed me good morning. It was
still dark inside the curtained room so I smelled the coffee before I realized he was holding a cup out in front of me. The room was warm and I’d kicked off all the covers.

“Rise and shine,
love,” he said. “I brought you sustenance. And it’s just the way you like it—jet fuel with lots of cream and a handful of raw sugar.”

“You’re on my short-list for sainthood,” I said.

“Not so fast. From what I hear, a saint would be obliged to avert his eyes from a get-up like that.” He pointed to my filmy nightie. “Personally, I’d rather die with a smile on my face than a halo around my head.”

I pushed myself into a sitting position and took the cup. Then I remembered I’d promised Loke I’d meet her at eight. “What time is it?”

Hatch checked his watch. “Seven-twenty-two.”

I bounded out of bed, sloshing coffee on
to the hardwood floor. “I need to go. Do you mind if I take the car? Oh, I forgot—you’re going surfing this morning.”

“Already went
and came back. It was great. Why don’t I drive you up there?”

“I
’m pretty sure Loke would rather not have an audience.”

“
No worries. I’ll drop you off and you can call when you want me to pick you up.”

I swiped a wash cloth across the necessary areas and pulled a brush through my hair. One thing about spending most mornings at the Palace of Pain
locker room is I’d perfected my fast track morning
toilette
. I could get “street legal” in less than five minutes.

We
drove the Hawaii Belt Road for about three miles and then turned south onto the Mamalahoa Highway. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I guess if the Road to Hana can call itself a “highway” then this road could too. It was twisting and steep, with thick foliage hiding the small houses and coffee farms on either side of the road. Occasionally, we’d come to a more open area and if I looked
ma kai
, I’d see the flat horizon beyond. We were so far up in the hills the ocean looked flat, gray, and endless. If we’d been able to go as the crow flies it probably would have taken us half the time, but this was the way the GPS lady insisted we go.

The entrance to the ceme
tery was on the
mauka
, or mountain side, of the road. The terrain there was steep and the cemetery was actually on a series of terraces above the road. We drove up to the uppermost terrace and parked. The view from there was beautiful; green lush lawn sliding like an infinity pool into the backdrop of ocean and sky. If ever there was a peaceful final resting place, this was it.