Sisterchicks Do the Hula (22 page)

I admit that I drive like a soccer mom in our family van that has more than 156,000 miles on it. I also admit that the roads I travel every day are never void of other cars, making it impossible to drive fast.

Laurie, however, was weaned on wine country roads, and she knew how to take every curve with control and ease. It was too bad I couldn’t relax and see the fun in this blast of bliss. Laurie was certainly having a grand time. I kept checking the side mirror to see if a policeman had yet been informed of our red-hot bullet mobile, shooting down the highway.

Taking the designated off-ramp, Laurie then drove sedately down a wide thoroughfare that headed toward the ocean. We saw the large hotel ahead of us and knew it must be the Kalamela Lagoon. In stark contrast to the hotels lining the beach at Waikiki, this one stood all by itself. Construction was in progress on buildings on both sides of the hotel, but for now, this gem dominated.

“Swanky,” I said, as we pulled under the wide portico and were greeted by four bellmen in white double-breasted blazers and white shorts.

We entered the open-air lobby, and the heady fragrance of tuberose floated our direction. I caught my reflection in a large oval mirror by the bellman’s desk. It was all I could do to keep from laughing aloud. The wind had thoroughly styled my hair
on the way to the hotel. Instead of my favorite “swims with dolphins” coiffure, today’s selection looked more like “sleeps with typhoons.” I ran my fingers through the short strands and tried to tame it to a reasonable fluff.

Laurie went to the front desk, and I stopped at a round table in the center of the lobby to sniff the tuberose and marvel at the most gigantic bouquet of tropical flowers I had ever seen. The stalks of pink ginger must have been at least four feet tall. I couldn’t count all the open buds of heady, white tuberose dotting the dozen or more long, green stems.

Look what You made, God. Look at all these colors and shapes! And the fragrance! These flowers would have been beautiful even if You hadn’t given them a scent, but that makes them even more magnificent. How gorgeous!

I smiled peacefully for the first time that day. I loved being an audience of one when it came to these little side performances God seemed to be putting on all over this island. I loved discovering the variety of His hidden beauty.

A soft breeze brushed past me, stirring the flowers, releasing their fragrance. In my heart’s deepest corner, I felt as if the very Spirit of God was coming close to me, right up to my face, and breathing on me.

Aloha
.

My heart beat faster. It wasn’t Emilee’s little bare-feet tap dance. It was my heart beating with a familiar longing. A longing to come closer to God.

I closed my eyes and drew in the deepest breath I could
swallow. I could taste the nectar from the flowers.

Aloha
, I answered back.
I entrust to You, Lord God, the essence of all that I am—all that You made me to be
.

The sweetness of that fragrant moment lingered. I held in my breath, as if I had somehow caught a rare whiff of all that is eternal. I was filled.

Laurie was flabbergasted. “Listen to this,” she said, sashaying her way over to me after having checked us in. “We were upgraded to an ocean-view suite because of the inconvenience of having to change hotels, and look what else they gave us.” Laurie held out two gift certificates.

I read the wording on the front of them. “Complimentary Spa Selection. What does that mean?”

“That means these little piggies are going
oui, oui, oui
all the way home.”

“Our pedicures,” I said with a smile.

“Come on. The elevators are over here. We’re on the fourth floor.”

We found the suite to be three times the size of our luxurious hotel room at the Kalamela Makai and very much to our liking. Neither of us missed the wild red and white hibiscus decor. The kitsch had been fun the first few days, but then we kept looking for a dimmer switch to tone down the lights and realized it wasn’t the light but the color we wanted to tone down.

The lanai was almost half the size of our former hotel room and offered a view of the postcard-perfect, pristine lagoon with
its languid azure blue waters and crescent-shaped white sandy beach. A dozen empty padded lounger chairs waited under thatched cabanas that waved their palm fronds at us and seemed to say, “Pick me! Pick me!”

I couldn’t wait to saunter down to the beach and begin the difficult task of selecting just one of them for an afternoon siesta.

The pool area had to be four times the size of our other hotel’s and nearly devoid of patrons. I loved the deep royal blue shade of tile that lined the pool—a round pool, no less. As round as a big, blue moon.

We didn’t know what to do first. Schedule our pedicures? Order brunch by the pool? Try out the padded lounge chairs under the cabanas? Or swim in the lagoon? Our bellman said if we went snorkeling in the lagoon, the sea turtles would swim with us.

“What do you suppose is wrong with this place?” I leaned over to more closely examine one of the three potted orchids in our room.

“It’s new,” Laurie said. “Didn’t I tell you? People don’t know about it yet.”

“Let’s not tell them. At least not until after we leave. I can’t believe this place. And for the same price as Waikiki!”

Laurie nodded. “It’s remote. We can’t just walk to a restaurant or gift shop. We’re limited to what’s on-site.”

“That’s okay. Besides, we have the car, if we want to go anywhere. I’m thinking all I want to do is go down to that lagoon
and try out one of those lounge chairs. Either that or get in the water and find one of those sea turtles.”

“Whatever the birthday girl wants, the birthday girl gets.”

“My wishes are simple: a bottle of sunscreen, a good book, and something tall and iced with a little umbrella to add to my collection.”

This time we ordered coconut-papaya blended drinks from the poolside bar and stretched out on a couple of padded loungers under a beach cabana. The winning cabana was the one that was closest to the rest rooms. My choice, naturally.

“Laurie, dahling, what do you suppose women of leisure and unlimited financial means do with their time?”

“You’re asking me?”

“I believe I now know the answer to such a question first-hand. They come here and have their nails done and their hair done, and they get undone by the quiet, the sun, and this exquisite, sugar-fine sand.”

“We are turning into perfect snoots, I hope you know.”

“Oh, I know, dahling.” I flipped on my sunglasses and lay with my face toward the glorious sun. “I hope you know that I am now permanently ruined. I will never again be able to live a normal life.”

“No more tent camping for you, huh?”

“You won’t tell Darren, will you?”

Laurie switched from her snooty accent and said in a lowered voice, “I won’t tell him, if you won’t tell Gabe that I’m still struggling with the decision to buy the house. I’m open to it.
Not crazy about it. Just open to it.”

Laurie’s cell phone rang. She looked at the display screen to see where the call was coming from. “That’s a little too creepy,” she said before pressing the talk button. “Hi! Did you know I was just talking about you?”

I guessed that Laurie might appreciate a little privacy so I rolled over and trotted through the hot sand to the lagoon. The water felt surprisingly warm. Warmer than the water had felt at Waikiki. I wondered about the sea turtle report. Were they really out there? They wouldn’t sneak up and nip at my toes, would they?

Let’s see, swims with dolphins hair and pedicured by turtles feet. Naw. Doesn’t have the same snap to it.

Ha! Turtles. Snap. Ha!

I looked around to see if I had been talking aloud, or if it had all been under my breath. Not that it mattered. But when a woman my age starts entertaining herself so thoroughly, I suppose it’s best if she does so in the quiet confines of her own, premenopausal mind.

T
rucking up to the lagoon rental shack, I checked out two sets of snorkel gear and another towel. For fun, I bought an underwater camera that could attach to my wrist with a rubber loop.

I realized the film I had sent in for developing would be delivered back at the other hotel instead of here. Borrowing the cabana house phone, I called the concierge and made arrangements for the photos to be sent to our new hotel.

Laurie was still on the phone, so I left her snorkel beside her lounge chair, and with flippers on my feet, I flapped down to the shore.

There were many advantages to being among only a handful of guests. First, I didn’t feel as if anyone was watching my “creature from the black lagoon” imitation except Laurie; and second, we had left most of our valuables in the room, and it felt safe enough to leave our bags by our chairs since they were
in view of where we would be swimming. That made it easy for both of us to go snorkeling at the same time.

With gentle ease I stretched out in the calm, shallow water. Emilee went in first, before the rest of me. She didn’t seem to mind because an instant later we were floating. Floating, I decided, was my new hobby. This was divine.

The fins allowed me to move swiftly without much effort on the part of my sore arms. That was a plus.

I headed toward the lagoon’s center. We had heard from the bellman that the lagoon was man-made, and the sand had been shipped in from another island to form this ideal corner of paradise. I didn’t mind the artificial methods to create such a serene place. The results were fabulous.

I saw a few fish and chased them, trying to coax them to hold still for an underwater photo. Being a little camera shy, they darted away faster than my flippers could propel me toward them. The water was murky, so even though I snapped three pictures, I didn’t have high hopes that they would be clear. The fish apparently weren’t accustomed to being spied on in this newly formed lagoon and therefore weren’t used to smiling for the tourists.

I was content to paddle around, looking right and left for the sea turtles. I expected them to be the size of a half-dollar and floating on the water’s surface like tiny green jellyfish. That’s why I let out a startled cry through my snorkel when I actually saw one. The friendly green fellow was as big as my largest frying pan and had long, paddle-like arms that propelled
him through the water. He came so close I could see his dark button eyes and the folds of wrinkled turtle skin on his extended neck.

He seemed to curiously examine me for a moment before banking to the right and taking off for more interesting sights. I was so engaged in the moment that I didn’t think to take a picture. Quickly surfacing, I looked around to see if I could tell where he was going. Another swimmer was coming toward me.

It was Laurie.

“I saw a turtle,” I told her, popping the snorkel out of my mouth.

“Where?”

“He went that way. I want to get his picture.”

We joined in tandem, kicking and splashing our way in pursuit of the cunning creature. Laurie spotted him first. She tapped my arm and pointed. I could hear her muffled chortle through the water. She motioned for me to follow. We puttered all around the lagoon in pursuit of the not-to-be-bothered sea turtle. Apparently he had gotten his eyeful of me as the tourist du jour, and that was enough for him.

So I took pictures of Laurie instead. At my request, she imitated a sea turtle underwater by stretching out her neck and flapping her arms. She can be a very good sport when she’s in a good mood.

I was curious to know if the good mood had anything to do with the conversation she just had with Gabe.

We surfaced, and I asked, “What did Gabe have to say?”

“We’re not putting in an offer.”

“Really? What happened?” I felt a bit peculiar having this important conversation while treading water with big flippers on our feet and suction-cup circles outlining the path the masks had followed around our eyes. Add bright green snorkels that flapped against our seaweed-style hair every time we moved our heads, and the sum was a situation in which only the best of friends could pay attention to the words that were being said.

“The sellers changed their minds,” Laurie said. “They decided to will the house to one of their grown children rather than sell it.”

“How does Gabe feel about that?”

“Disappointed, but he said it obviously wasn’t the right house or the right time.”

“And how do you feel?”

“Relieved and a little angry.”

“Angry about what?”

“I’m mad at myself because I spent so much emotional energy trying to fight through this decision. I tried not to bring it up a lot, but you wouldn’t believe how much I thought about it our first few days here.”

She shook her head, and the snorkel flapped against her ear, looking like a strange gill opening and closing. “I wish I could learn how to have that unforced rhythm of grace when it comes to things like this,” she said. “It always turns out fine. Ultimately, God puts all the right pieces in place, but I waste so
much time trying to either force things to go the way I want, or I analyze them to death. Why can’t I just go with it?”