The Islands (49 page)

‘How you holding up? I hear you've split with your husband.'

‘Yes. I'm feeling better about it just by being here.' She took a deep breath. There was the familiar perfume in the air, the tropical colours and warm breath of the tradewind, a sense of dropping out of a city – even casual Honolulu – into a secret oasis.

He threw her bag into the back of his old car. ‘All your worldly goods, Catherine?'

‘Just about. I've left most of my things with Kiann'e, so I'm travelling light, starting over. Just need a surfboard. PJ told me there'd be plenty to borrow.'

‘That's for sure. I've got several at my place. So you going over to
Nirvana
?'

‘I thought I might. Do you know who's there?'

‘Ginger and Summer and the keikis. Leif is on the Big Island, working as a paniolo, rounding up cattle for a big ranch. A guy from South Africa was at
Nirvana
but I think he's gone to Lombok. Indonesia is the new spot to surf. And PJ is coming. Few people hanging out for his boards.'

‘Sounds a bit muddled,' said Catherine unsurely. ‘Might be okay for a night or two until I find somewhere more organised.'

Abel John drove out of Lihue Airport and said, ‘There is another place that might suit you better. Friend of Helena's is looking for someone to take care of her little place while she goes to Europe for couple of weeks. It's not fancy, bit of a shop with a studio apartment upstairs. It's on the south shore, so no good surfing there. But it won't cost you anything. Kinda interesting little town. She has an old car and I'm sure she'd let you use that, too. Want to have a look?'

‘Sure. Why not?' Catherine suddenly felt her spirits lifting. Take it as it comes. Having a place of her own if it were safe and clean would be wonderful. The thought of
Nirvana
, filled with people and not much privacy, made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Abel John turned onto Highway 50.

‘How's your family, Abel John?'

He grinned. ‘Beautiful. Helena and those keikis are beautiful. My big boy and I fish together now. That's a special father–son thing to do.'

As they drove out to the coast, they passed landmarks that were familiar to her: a roadside café, a particular pineapple field, a jagged rock formation on a point with a windswept tree, a white house smothered in bougainvillea surrounded by hibiscus and plumeria trees. An abandoned kombi van covered in rusting graffiti was still parked in the middle of a paddock, just as it had been the last time she'd driven by.

Abel John sensed her mood. ‘Glad to be back, huh?'

‘Yes. And I've only island hopped forty minutes from Honolulu. Imagine coming straight from some crowded city on the mainland to this piece of paradise.'

‘Or from a farm in country Australia,' he kidded.

Catherine laughed. ‘Yes. It's another world, that's for sure. But each is beautiful, special, even familiar, in its own way.'

‘You know when you've done the right thing, girl,' he said softly. ‘It's a big step.' He glanced at her. ‘You go through another door, see what's out there.'

‘It's a bit scary. But I don't want to run home to my parents just yet. Have to stand on my own two feet, right?'

‘You still got ohana – big family – here. We can be calabash cousins, eh, Catherine?'

‘Thanks, Abel John.'

They turned off the highway onto a dirt road by a fence buried under scarlet bougainvillea and Catherine couldn't resist a gasp of delight as they drove into a little township.

‘Nice surprise uh?' said Abel John. ‘Reminds me of a street down ol' Mexico way.'

‘It looks sleepy,' laughed Catherine. ‘But I love it.'

Drooping red and orange poincianas and hibiscus bushes screened old houses. Tall trumpet and tulip trees and a yellow acacia shaded the dusty road. Scarlet blooms of bougainvillea and creamy plumeria were sprinkled along a wooden sidewalk. Some of the shopfronts with living quarters above were shuttered and closed, long empty. There was a dark and cluttered emporium that looked as though no customer had crossed the threshold for a century. Other buildings seemed to have seen several lives in various incarnations. There was a general store with a postbox outside, a café, a movie theatre no longer in use and a Chinese temple, its peeling gold facade set back with a small courtyard in front. In the road a dog lazily scratched its hindquarters and on a balcony with lopsided green shutters sat a skinny cat. There were several cars parked along the street but no one seemed to be about, though piano music could be heard from inside a house.

As Abel John stopped behind a big gold Oldsmobile, Catherine was struck by what she instantly thought of as a patchwork house. Its multicoloured mix of bright orange shutters, turquoise door and window frames, mushroom pink wooden facade and two large bright-pink flower pots filled with geraniums on either side of the door were eye-catching even in such a colourful street. The verandah posts supporting an upstairs balcony were painted in swirling stripes like a gaudy barber's pole.

Catherine realised that it was an art gallery as, through the double glass windows, she saw bold canvases, some hanging, some on easels and others stacked against walls. A sign above the door announced it was
The Joss House.

The door was open and Abel John ushered her inside.

Catherine looked at the paintings, which were mostly of Hawaiian subjects – big flowers, dark-eyed girls in brightly patterned pareos, colourful birds, beaches, cliffs and waterfalls.

A woman came through a bead curtain from the rear and looked to Catherine to be as colourful as the paintings. She had wild red hair, bright pink lipstick, green eyeshadow, deeply suntanned skin and wore a wildly patterned sarong. She had bare feet, lots of jewellery and a flower in her hair. As soon as she opened her mouth, Catherine realised that she was from New York.

‘Abel John! This is a nice surprise. Glad to see you before I leave.' She kissed his cheek and turned to Catherine and held out her hand.

‘I'm Miranda.'

‘I'm Catherine. Are these your wonderful paintings?'

‘Sure are. Can't find anyone else's stuff to fill the place. I'm going to Europe tomorrow, might bring back some works from there. No one round here seems to want the local colour, so to speak. Do you paint?'

‘No, sorry. That's a shame about your work, it's terrific. Though I suppose local people feel they can step outside and see the real thing,' said Catherine politely.

‘True. Though who's going to want to buy scenes of Venice or Florence, either? Not that we get a lot of tourists through here to buy anything, anyway!' she laughed.

‘Catherine has been living on Oahu and wants to spend some time here and check out the local scene. She's a photographer – and writer,' said Abel John.

Before he could continue, Miranda grasped Catherine's hand. ‘A writer! A photographer! This is exactly where you should be!' She looked at Abel John. ‘You've found me a housesitter?'

‘That's what I figure,' he said amicably. ‘Catherine's a very responsible person and needs a place to stay for a bit. Thought you two could work something out.'

Miranda smiled at Catherine. ‘He's a doll, ain't he? C'mon in. I'll show you around. The place comes with a canary, a precious pot plant – not that kinda pot, it's a peace lily – and the Olds. You drive? Where are you from?'

‘I'm Australian. You mean the car out there is yours?'

‘No-one else'd be seen dead in it!' laughed Miranda.

‘Could I put a surfboard in it? I'll be careful about sand,' said Catherine.

‘She surfs too!' exclaimed Miranda. ‘You Aussies are something else. Come on upstairs and have something to drink. When can you move in?'

‘Now. Her stuff, not much, is in the car,' said Abel John quickly. ‘Sorry about the short notice. Catherine needs a place to stay and I remembered you.'

There was a main bedroom with an ensuite, an alcove bed-sitting room, a lounge room with a dining area that opened onto the narrow balcony looking down on the street and a tiny kitchen. It was all painted lime green, the shutters dark green, the furniture was ornate Asian black-lacquered bamboo with inlaid gold and pearl trim, upholstered in bright red.

‘Wow, this is very exotic,' said Catherine.

‘A bit Indochine. Suits the history of the place. This building was once an opium den,' explained Miranda.

‘Hanapepe was the hot spot, a big town back in the nineteenth century. Lot of Chinese merchants, rice farmers and coffee plantations,' said Abel John. ‘So this was an Asian town with opium dens and joss houses.'

‘Now there are a few locals and us drop-out haoles. You'll meet them,' added Miranda. ‘That is, if you're ready to move in now and you don't mind sleeping on the couch in the alcove for tonight.'

‘I guess so,' said Catherine, glancing at Abel John.

‘I'll go get your bag.'

After Abel John had left, Miranda made Catherine some coffee and Catherine found herself shyly explaining that her marriage breakdown was the reason that she had come to Kauai.

Miranda laughed. ‘Ah, well, stuff happens, right? Move on, honeybun,' she said nonchalantly. ‘Now you know where the coffee pot is, how about we tackle the car? Did you say you had a surfboard to collect?'

‘It's over on the north shore. Maybe I should leave it there and surf on that side. I have friends there too.'

‘Let's go anyway. I have to show you how the car works. It has a few idiosyncrasies. Why don't you keep your board here, when you get it, then you can go where you please. There're plenty of other places to surf on this island. Be a free agent,' she said.

As she drove the big gold Oldsmobile, Catherine had to agree with Miranda that a convertible was the best way to travel in the Islands.

‘Can't have any secrets with this car – everyone recognises it, so don't go anywhere you shouldn't.' Miranda roared at her own joke.

Catherine showed her new friend the turn-off to
Nirvana.
‘You mightn't want me to take the car along this dirt road, though it's grassy at the end.'

‘The car goes where we tell it. Put your foot down, honey.'

Catherine drove cautiously and felt a tug of recognition as the rambling beach shack came into view with its usual array of kombi vans and panel vans, surfboards, beach gear, towels and toys in the front yard.

‘Well, this is a picture,' commented Miranda.

The children came tumbling out of the house followed by Ginger holding her new baby. Pink and Ziggy squealed in delight as they recognised Catherine. Petal toddled forward.

‘Wow, great to see you, Catherine. What a car,' exclaimed Ginger.

‘It belongs to Miranda. This is Ginger. And that's Summer.' Catherine went and hugged Summer who had come outside at all the commotion.

‘Come in. Come in. You staying?' asked Summer.

‘That's kind of you, but Abel John suggested I house-sit for Miranda in Hanapepe for a bit.'

Summer smiled. ‘Hanapepe's a cute place. Anything happening there now? I haven't been by for ages.'

‘Not much. Might change one day,' said Miranda.

‘Miranda is a fabulous artist. You should come over and see her work,' said Catherine.

‘We might just do that. Hey, kids, stop climbing over that car.'

‘They won't do any harm,' Miranda assured the women. ‘Catherine has the keys.'

Miranda fitted right in and over chai and homemade cake the girls laughed and talked.

‘So you've really got into surfing, Catherine? Great isn't it? We'll have to go out together some time,' said Ginger. ‘Do you want to borrow a board for a while?'

By the time they drove back to Hanapepe with Catherine's board angled across the back seat, Miranda was talking about spending some time at
Nirvana
when she got back from Europe to paint the kids.

‘That scene would make a great painting. So full of colour and life.'

‘I'm surprised Abel John hasn't introduced you to the people at
Nirvana
before,' said Catherine.

‘We tend to move in our own little circles, which only overlap when a floater like you comes along,' said Miranda.

‘A floater? You mean a drifter?' said Catherine. ‘That's how I feel at the moment. But that's okay.'

The next day Catherine drove Miranda to Lihue Airport. As the Aloha Airlines flight landed and Miranda prepared to board, Catherine saw PJ walking across the tarmac.

She tapped him on the shoulder as he pulled his bag off the trolley. ‘Howdy, stranger.'

He broke into a wide grin. ‘Hey, you beat me here. Find a board? Say, you're not leaving already, are you?'

‘No. I'm well settled, I'm dropping my friend here. She's flying to Europe and I'm staying in her house. Come and meet Miranda.'

‘You're a fast mover. So you're not out at the beach house?'

Miranda shook PJ's hand and shot Catherine a look. ‘Where's this guy been hiding?'

‘In the surf,' said Catherine.

‘Darn, I knew I should have taken it up. See you guys when I get back. Not sure when . . . Thanks, Catherine. I'll phone you. You have fun now.' She waved and walked to the plane.

‘Do you want a ride?' asked Catherine. ‘I have Miranda's car.'

As they drove along the sunny coast road in the gold convertible, PJ's bag and board crammed in the back seat, Catherine found herself humming.

Time passed with days of early-morning surfing, sometimes hanging out at
Nirvana
, then a surf with PJ at Hanalei – which Catherine thought was one of the most beautiful parts of the island – then minding the gallery for a few hours – Miranda kept loose opening times – for the occasional visitor who dawdled in to look around. More often than not, visitors were locals on an errand on that side of the island who stopped to pass the time of day. Some older people told Catherine what the village was like in their childhoods and were glad to see nothing much had changed recently. Even the old swinging bridge was still across the river.