I'm Kona Love You Forever (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series Book 6) (20 page)

She pointed toward the water. “
Everyone else flew. But Ono brought us in the cat. It’s tied up over there.” She gave me a quick hug and stepped back to join her husband.

Hatch shifted slightly. He’d been down on the knee for a while and looked
more than a little uncomfortable.

“W
ill you marry me?” he said. He popped open a square jeweler’s box. Light from a nearby tiki torch caught the ring nestled in black velvet and the diamond winked at me.

The
re was a hush. Everyone went still. Even the waves lapping on the shore seemed to tiptoe. I tried to smile but my face was frozen.

The man
I loved was kneeling in front of me looking up expectantly. Thirty-five years of little girl fantasies, teenaged daydreams, and womanly desires collided in a fog of distress.

Why w
ould he ambush me like this?

I stayed silent.

Hatch’s lips narrowed and a crease formed between his eyebrows. There wasn’t anything about the moment I found enjoyable. Not his discomfort, not my dismay, not the embarrassed silence of the people looking on.

After what felt like an hour and a half
, but was probably closer to a minute, I found my voice. “This is such a surprise.”

Hatch stood up.
“Obviously.”

I heard a
small rustle of throat clearing and murmurs coming from the well-wishers. Ono came forward and whispered something to Hatch. He shielded his mouth with his hand so I couldn’t hear what he said, but when he finished, he shot me way more stink eye than I could ever possibly deserve.

“No, it’s cool,” said Hatch. He snapped the jeweler’s box closed as if signaling an end to the awkwardness.
He pointed to the hotel bar less than two hundred feet away. It was bathed in the aquamarine glow of the underwater pool lights. “Well, since we’re all here, let’s check out this bartender’s chops. First round’s on me.”

CHAPTER 22

Perhaps there are more miserable things in life than faking frivolity in the face of humiliation, but at the moment I couldn’t think of any. Farrah stuck by me like a conjoined twin, chattering on about the sail over from Maui and recounting recent gossip from back home. When she ran out of small talk, she started in on how she and Ono were planning to add a line of island-made organic baby food to the offerings at their store.

“It’s totally rad,” she said. “When we get pregnant
, I’m gonna be heavy into finding the best grinds I can get for my baby. No glop in little glass jars for my kid. No way.”

The firefighters clustered around Hatch, entertaining each other in wave after wave of snarky put-downs
of stupid mistakes made by the “brass.” Not only would the guys on the hoselines never make the ridiculous decisions they’d had to deal with from the higher ups, they would’ve spotted the ill-fated outcomes a mile away.

After
a hurried per capita intake of alcohol that put everyone except AA-member Ono smack into DUI-land, the party began breaking up.

“We really need to
be heading out,” said Ono to no one in particular.

“You aren’t going to wait until morning?” Hatch said.

“No, we’re good to go. Tomika had a state-of-the-art nav system put in so I can run at night now. I guess she got tired of me claiming I was late ‘cuz I got lost.”

The group said their good-byes and
, one-by-one, the guys came over to Hatch, clapped him on the back and muttered various versions of “buck up.” He gamely accepted their condolences, but even from across the room I could sense his resentment. Observing his gritty resolve was like watching a balloon being pumped up way past the popping point.

When the last person faded into the darkness, Hatch came over
to me.

“I thought that’s what you want
ed,” he said. His voice shook, whether from anger or hurt I wasn’t sure.

“You know how I feel about surprises,” I said.

“Yeah? Well imagine
my
surprise when you hung me out to dry like that.”

“I didn’t mean to. It’s just…
well, I think it was kind of presumptuous of you to waylay me like that. We’re in this together, you know.”

“Oh? Are we? From where I’m sittin
g, it looks like you just shot ‘we’ all to hell. Don’t you see how phony you come off? You make your living planning romantic events but when someone tries to offer you a little romance you run like a scalded dog.”

“It’s not that.”

“Okay, then what?”

“It’s not romance, Hatch.
What you were asking was a commitment for life.”

“Yeah,
well thanks for the heads-up. I thought I wanted to spend my life with you and I thought you felt the same. My bad for reading it wrong.”

He stalked out of the bar. I
stayed behind to give him time to make his way back to the room. I’d had enough of trying to reason with him in front of an audience. Things like this were always better resolved one-on-one.

Ten minutes later
I clicked the card key in the door and it opened into a pitch-dark room. I flipped on a light and every trace of Hatch was gone. It figured. Firefighters are trained to get out fast when it gets so hot their face shields start melting.

***

I didn’t sleep. I tried reading for a while, but I found I couldn’t follow the plot, much less remember the names of the characters. I turned on the TV and watched earnest young men and women try to sell me stuff I never knew I needed. The bullet blender? Who knew it could whip up “frothy, refreshing—and don’t forget healthful!—beverages” in less than the time it takes to fry an egg? And how about the ceiling fan duster that can capture all the “unseen but potentially harmful deposits” clinging to the blades of the fan whirling above you hour after hour? With only a flick of the wrist, your fan’s clean and your family’s safe from dust, mites, dead insects and heaven knows what else might be up there. Only nineteen-ninety-five—but wait! If you call right now…

By
first light, I was showered, packed, and ready to head out. I checked the flights. The Kona to Maui schedule was pretty thin. Only four flights a day and the first one didn’t leave until 9:10 a.m.

I went
back and stretched out on the bed. I must’ve dozed off because when I awoke it was nearly seven-thirty. I took the elevator to the lobby to check out. I told them Hatch had been called away on business so I was checking out for him. I looked over the bill and found a fourteen-dollar parking fee.

“Fourteen dollars for one night?”
I said.

The clerk looked like she’d dealt with this before. “Yes,” she said with a practiced smile. “But unlike other hotels on the island we don’t charge a resort fee.”

Imagine fourteen bucks to simply leave your car on their property. If I’d known at twenty-one what I know now, I’d have saved every penny and bought up bare land near airports and tourist stops. All it would take was some asphalt and a few of those “don’t back up or the metal teeth will shred your tires” thingies and I’d have been in business. No weepy brides with mascara trailing down their cheeks at the photo shoot, no strident m-o-t-b’s demanding filet mignon at stew meat prices, and certainly no teenaged brides who were technically never born.

I asked the bell captain to call me a cab
. While I waited I glanced out at the parking lot. There, parked under a nearby plumeria tree, was a white car that looked remarkably similar to the one I’d been driving all week. But how could it be? Hatch had no doubt taken it back to the airport. After all, he was the last to drive it and he had the keys.

I
walked over to the car and peeked inside. Crumpled rental car map of Hawaii Island, check. Brochure on the back seat from our trip to the
pu’uhonua
park, check. Half-empty water bottle in the front cup holder, check. This sure looked like my car, all right. But how could I drive it back to the airport? Hatch had the keys.

I tried the driver
’s door and it opened. I slid inside and felt around under the seat. There they were. Hatch must’ve stopped on his way out and moved the car to a place where I’d find it.

I
lowered my head until it rested against the cool upper curve of the steering wheel. Then came the tears.

***

When I got over my crying jag it was too late to drive out to the airport to make the 9:10 flight. I trudged back to the hotel and saw a taxi waiting under the portico. Uh-oh. I’d forgotten to cancel my ride.

“Are you waiting to take someone to the airport?” I said to the driver.

“That’s me,” he said. He hopped out and reached to grab my roller bag. “That all the luggage you got?”

“I’m sorry, but I already have a ride.”

His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d pulled the overnight shift and was hoping for just one more fare before hitting the sack.

“You not going?” he said.

I pulled a twenty from my beach bag purse. “No.
Sorry for the inconvenience.”

He eyed the bill
in my hand. I turned it over so he could see the denomination and he perked up.

“Tha’s cool,” he said
, slipping the bill into his shirt pocket. “Plans change. Have a good one.”

He hopped in and took off, leaving me to wave away
a cloud of exhaust.

“Can I help you, miss?” said a valet standing by the door.

For some reason, the word “miss” took me unawares and I had to stuff the urge to start up the waterworks again.

“
Mahalo
, but I’m good,” I managed to say.

“
No you aren’t
,” said my conscience. “
You’re stupid and scared. And there’s nothing much good about that.”

***

I drove out to the airport to see if I could get on the next thing smokin’ to Maui. I parked in short term parking and went inside. The ticket agent said the second flight of the day was already full, but there were seats on a later flight .

“I’m afraid
it doesn’t leave for a few more hours,” she said. “At two-twenty this afternoon.”

I w
alked back out to the car. No use sitting around the tiny airport for more than three hours. I’d always thought the Maui airport was small until I saw the airports on neighbor islands. The terminal at the airport on Lana’i looks more like a boutique hotel than an airport facility. There’s only one short runway and a helipad. Although, to be fair, I’ve never flown out of Lana’i. When I was stashed over there in witness protection the government was paying my way. They weren’t about to pop for the steep inter-island airfare so they shuttled me off on the ferry from Lahaina.

The
airport on Kaua'i is larger, but the amenities are still pretty meager. Maui’s airport at Kahului got a big-city makeover when it started hosting direct flights from the mainland. It was a boon for tourism since visitors from places like Chicago and Dallas want to get to the beach without an annoying lay-over at “the mother ship,” Honolulu International.

I pulled out of the parking lot and started driving north toward the Kohala Coast. That’s where the fancy resorts
are. If you’re eager to play world-class golf courses, get ten different kinds of massages—some of which can be downright painful—and drop at least five hundred a night, not counting the thirteen-percent lodging tax, the Kohala Coast is the place for you.

I rolled down the windows and turned on the radio
. I sang along for a few tunes but when “Total Eclipse of the Heart” came on, I snapped it off. As if I wasn’t already two beats away from jerking the wheel to the left and heading out over the rocky embankment. 

Glancing at the speedometer I
saw I was going nearly seventy. If I couldn’t talk my way out of a ticket on Maui, how would I ever manage to do it here? And besides, after a sleepless night and a blubbering wallow, I looked way more like the scary woman on the “Don’t do meth” billboard than a tax-paying homeowner from a neighbor island. 

I was almost down to the speed limit when my cell phone went off. I
considered checking to see who it was, but decided to let it go to voicemail. Whoever it was, or whatever it was about, I was in no mood to chat.

CHAPTER 23

Who among us can ignore a voicemail? Especially when it comes after a hideous lapse of judgment. Maybe it was masochism, or maybe I was hoping for a message of understanding and support. Whatever the reason, I pulled over to see who’d called.

It was a local
808 number I didn’t recognize. I hesitated to hit “redial,” then realized I couldn’t lose. If it was someone trying to sell me something I’d have an opportunity to vent. If it was a friend of Hatch’s calling to hurl invectives, I’d see if I could one-up them in calling me names. If it was anyone else, it might help get my mind off my self-loathing.

“
Aloha
,” I said. I surprised myself by how normal I sounded.