Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place' (11 page)

Kenji replied, his voice edged with concern, “And
Buddy, he will be all right until then? He must stay here, in the
hospital?” A look of worried dismay finally cracked his stoic
visage. “We have no- insurance.”

Doctor Onagawa frowned slightly as he consulted
Buddy’s chart. “I see no indication that there should be a problem.
I think he can go home tomorrow. Will that be okay?” He smiled
encouragingly and turned to Buddy, “Just keep off your feet for a
couple of days. No flying, you're grounded until further notice-
use the oxygen as much as you need to.” He turned to Kenji, “Is
there anything else I can answer for you?”

“
No. Thank you, Doctor. Harigato.”
Kenji bowed in traditional fashion, and Doctor Onagawa bowed
slightly in return and left.

After a gentle comforting touch of his hand to the
back of Noelani, Kenji turned and slowly crossed to Chris with his
hands still folded solemnly before him and bowed deeply, his gaze
never leaving Chris’ face. “I must thank you for your-” Kenji
paused and looked back to Buddy, suddenly at a loss for words, and
then continued, “Your- effort. It was very- fortunate that you were
there when you were. I owe you a debt of gratitude. If there is
anything I can do-”

Chris interrupted Kenji with his own hands folded
and a slight nod of his head, “Actually sir, if it weren't for your
daughter saving me first, I wouldn't have even been there at all.
I'd say we were pretty much square.” Chris extended a hand, and
after a beat, Kenji took it and held it firmly in both of his.

Without shaking it, just holding
it in a warm embrace, Kenji stared at Chris for a long, silent
beat. And then a curious frown caused his gaze to drift to the back
of Alani, and then slowly swung off into the distance beyond.
Without looking back at Chris, he said in a strange, almost
mystical
tone, “Ah, yes,
perhaps.” And then he looked again to Chris, this time staring deep
into his eyes. “Anyhow, I thank you- and I hope you have a…” He
smiled softly and continued, “…a 'memorable' visit to our island.”
Kenji bowed slightly again, this time a bit awkwardly, and then
abruptly turned back to his family.

As Chris sat back in silence pondering the curious
exchange, he caught the familiar sight of the outrageously long
limousine out of the corner of his eye, slowly pulling up outside
in a cloud of reddish dust. A moment later, the burly native
driver, the now-customary Aloha shirt a bright flash of color
beneath his dark gray pin-stripes, filled the swinging ER doors
with his bulk. Without a word the driver nodded to Chris, who
nodded sagely in return, and then he silently turned and left.

Chris hopped down jauntily from
the bed, casually flinging his jacket over his shoulder as he
swaggered towards the swinging ER doors. But just as he was about
to pass through, he paused and cast a final backward glance over
his shoulder at the group huddled around Buddy. His eyes widened in
surprise as he saw Alani staring directly at him, her gaze one of
curious consideration, her luminescent green eyes captivating his
attention and galvanizing him on the spot. Her intent stare
suddenly softened and she smiled almost shyly, a smirking glance of
attention that now completely and utterly disoriented Chris. He
smiled awkwardly in return, his hand raising hesitantly in a wave
as he resumed his exit- and he promptly collided with the edge of
the swinging door, stopping him dead in his tracks and sending a
burst of stars through his vision. As he rubbed his head in renewed
pain and stumbled through the doors he heard the unmistakable sound
of poorly stifled giggling bubbling from Alani’s lips.

Chris piled into the spacious interior of the limo
still rubbing his tender head. As the long, gray vehicle began to
slowly move off he rolled down the window to watch as the
‘Menehune’ was tediously being towed down the airport runway. And
as he did, he noticed a most unusual sight. A small branch was
dragging softly on the ground, hanging limply from the port-side
wingtip, and his heart suddenly jumped with a bolt of fear as he
realized how truly close his end had been. As the limo drew nearer,
he leaned out the window and stared at the anomalous branch with a
nagging curiosity as he saw it in closer detail. It was an ilima
branch, bright golden-orange blossoms surrounded by tiny dark green
leaves. And which- if Chris had known, was the customary garland of
Hawaiian royalty.

Chris’ thoughts wandered as the
limo glided silently down the twisting coastal highway, alternating
between the arresting vision of Alani and the strange and
inexplicable images of- well-
whatever the
hell that
was…

The limo rounded a corner, and a gap in the
never-ending greenery of the Hawaiian landscape suddenly yielded a
surprising sight- a fleeting glimpse of a bright red Mustang
convertible, a glaring yellow sign tilted onto its’ windshield with
the words ‘Rent ME!!!’ emblazoned on it.

Chris whipped his head around in
amazement, his heart leaping at the shocking synchronicity of this
vision. “Oh, SHIT!
No WAY!”
he cried, leaping forward to pound on the privacy
window, “Driver! Stop! STOP! STOP!!!”

The limo screeched to a halt, and the window slowly
slid down.

“
What?” said the driver, clearly
confused by this turn of events, his voice edged with a sharp note
of concern.

“
Stop! Go back!”

“
But, sir- I'm supposed to take
you-!”

Chris interrupted and shook his head in conviction,
“Forget that! I'm not passing up an opportunity like this!” And
with that Chris bounded from the limo and walked quickly over to
the bright red vehicle where he began to run his hands almost
lovingly over the car’s hood and fender.

Chris suddenly stood bolt upright with his hands on
his hips and whistled in lusty appreciation, a long, drawn out,
“Whoooooa!” issuing from his lips. For this was not just your
average garden-variety Mustang, this one bore the distinctive lines
and Cobra badge of a far more exotic ride; a top-of-the-line,
brand-spanking new GT500 Shelby, over 600 horsepower of pure
adrenaline addiction just waiting for its’ junkie. Chris grinned
like the proverbial virgin in the whore-house and turned to the
limo that had just backed up and stopped beside him, the driver’s
window slowly rolling down.

Chris yanked out his wallet and
thrust a hundred-dollar bill through the open window,
saying,
“
Here,
man, take a long lunch.” He peeled off another and tossed it into
the startled driver’s lap and added, “And treat the wife to
dinner.” The limo driver stared at Chris shocked amazement for a
moment, and then he slowly shook his head and rolled up the
window.

Chris watched as the limo slowly moved off, finally
disappearing around a distant corner, and then he waved and
shouted, “Thanks dude! Aloha!” And then he turned and jauntily
strode toward the rental office, flinging his jacket casually over
his shoulder as he whistled a carefree tune.

A few moments later, Chris settled into the driver’s
seat of the glorious red beast, wriggling like a puppy as the
rental agent plucked the sign from the window. Tugging the Red Sox
cap over his golden-blond curls, Chris inquired brightly, “So,
where's the best surfing around here?”

The agent responded with the raise of an eyebrow and
the hint of a smile as he pointed into the distance, “Around here?
Just down the road at Waimea.”

Chris flew down the road in the howling red car,
gleefully tearing up the asphalt with his new toy, fumbling with
the radio as he drove, finally settling for a scratchy, squealing
AM station that was playing hits from the eighties. A DJ came on
between songs, his sing-song native voice a pleasant accompaniment
to the heat of the midday sun, “...and it looks like another warm
one in Paradise, folks- Temperatures are going to be in the upper
eighties, more the same through the weekend. But on the other hand,
here's a reason to beat the heat- the surf at Pipeline, Banzai and
Sunset is at record highs for this time of year. Currently at
Waimea they are reporting totals up to 18 feet...” Chris’ face
broke into a wide grin, and he pulled out his cell-phone and
dialed…

Walter glowered over his menu as Abigail returned
from the poolside bar, his forehead creased in consternation in
anticipation of the news of his wayward son. “Well...?”

“
Apparently, he's going
surfing.”

Walter growled angrily, slapping his menu onto the
table as he exploded, “WHAT?! God dammit, Abigail, that's the last
straw! I swear to God, the moment we get back home, there will be
an end to this silliness! He has got to grow up!”

“
Walter, aren't you being a bit
harsh?”

“
Harsh? Abigail,
dammit, he nearly killed himself with that stupid glider stunt, and
now he wants to
drown
? What does he have? Some sort of death
wish?”

Abigail tut-tutted Walter, focusing her attentions
on her own menu as she continued without looking up, “It was just a
fluke, an accident... How could he possibly have known that he was
going to be struck by lightning- twice?” She lowered her menu and
said with careful deliberation, “You can't blame him for that,
Walter- he's just a boy... He's just getting it out of his system.”
And then she continued, coyly changing the subject, “Do you want
dessert?”

“
No. I need something to take my
mind off my daredevil son.” Walter looked off into the distance, a
thought crossing his mind and smoothing his forehead. “Let's go
golfing.”

Abigail gaped, open-mouthed and off balance by
Walter’s sudden change of direction. “But- I don't have my clubs,
or clothes, or - anything!”

Walter smiled warmly and flashed a golden credit
card, “Easily remedied, my dear. Let's go shopping.”

Abigail's eyes lit up at the sound of her favorite
sport, and she beamed at her husband and rose without a word,
taking Walter’s arm in hers as they sauntered into the hotel
lobby.

The Mustang crossed a narrow,
rusting bridge, the fading strains of
The
Eagle’s
‘Hotel California’ drowned out by
the growl of the car as it downshifted and slowed. As the car and
Chris rattled over the rusting, overgrown framework of the bridge,
the breeze from its’ passing stirred a leafy vine. The vine moved
ever-so-slightly and revealed a rusty, distressed sign that simply
read- 'ONE WAY'. And just as suddenly as it had appeared, the
enigmatic sign vanished behind the curtain of green, almost as if
it had never existed at all. The car and its oblivious occupant
moved off into the distance and stopped in front of the weathered
exterior of the plain, two-story building just ahead.