Red Sky Over Hawaii Read online

  His imitation of her father carried just the right intonations, and it made her homesick for Jack and his zany ideas and contagious passion for whatever project he had going on at the time. Especially sitting here in a place he used to bring her.

  “He actually said that?”

  Grant gave her a one-sided smile. “Sorry, but pigheaded was exactly the term he used.”

  “No, I mean he was concerned about getting me here?”

  “Very. He hated the fact that you were on O‘ahu, and so far away. And I don’t know what happened between you, but he mentioned that he planned on going over there and setting things straight, sooner rather than later.”

  Lana thought about the last time Jack had called and spoken to Buck. Lana had been out and she’d meant to call him back, but as usual never did. The problem was every time she thought about Jack, she felt an agonizing and searing pain in her lower abdomen. It was far easier to avoid him than to face the misery that he stirred up, and yet now she would give anything to have him back.

  “I admit I’ve been pigheaded and not the best daughter, but there’s a long story behind it all. One I don’t feel like talking about,” she said.

  He seemed to be wrestling with a thought. “We all have our stories. But, Lana, you may want to know that the last time I spoke to Jack, we were out riding. The sun was going down just like it is now, with that orange ribbon of light along the summit. He stopped and out of nowhere said, ‘If something should happen to me in the war, can you find my daughter and bring her here? Help look after her?’”

  All the air went out of Lana’s lungs. Grant was watching her closely, his eyes catching the day’s final light. Mauna Loa was fading into shadow.

  “No offense, but what made him think I would leave my house and run off with a stranger?” she said.

  He shrugged. “I can’t answer that, but I do know he thought you belonged here, not on O‘ahu.”

  A nagging voice told her that Jack had been right. O‘ahu was not home, never had been, and despite the circumstances, there was a strange feeling of rightness here. “I guess I saved you the trouble,” she said.

  “I promised him, and my promises stand. I would have found a way.”

  “How was he so sure that there was going to be a war? People don’t just go around building houses based on rumors and hearsay,” she said.

  “He said he was tuned in somehow. He tried to warn people, but no one listened. People dismissed him as an eccentric.”

  “He was an eccentric.”

  “Eccentric and wise.”

  Grant seemed to have a real fondness and understanding of her father. “You really cared about him, didn’t you?” she said.

  “Sure did. And that leads me back to my original question.” He paused for a few breaths. “Is Mr. Hitchcock still around?”

  Lana had begun to think he had forgotten. But now, in light of the new information, his question made more sense. He felt an obligation to look out for her, based on a promise to a friend. She owed him an honest answer. “Mr. Hitchcock is on O‘ahu and we are separated.”

  “A permanent separation?”

  Now that she was removed, looking at her situation from the other end of the island chain, it seemed so clear. It had simply been a matter of her head catching up with her heart. Even if this war hadn’t happened, she would have found a reason to stay here. Returning to Buck was an impossibility, like breathing underwater. It was no longer an option.

  “Not formally yet, but I won’t be going back.”

  As the words lifted off her tongue, she felt lighter and more spacious. There was even a faint hum in the room that seemed to be emanating from somewhere inside her chest. Could he hear it? She could have sworn Grant smiled, but it was so fast, it quickly disappeared.

  “So then it wouldn’t hurt to have someone up here keeping an eye on you,” he said.

  “I appreciate your concern, but as I mentioned before, I have things under control.”

  Losing Jack was like losing the whole backdrop of her life. There was no going back and no longer a heart to which you were tethered unconditionally.

  Before Grant could respond, Uncle Theo appeared in the doorway. Lana was both relieved and disappointed.

  “Greetings, my friends!” he bellowed. “Sorry to intrude, but I’m going to have to draw the curtains lest we attract any enemy planes with our fire.”

  “I should be going anyway. I need to feed the girls,” Lana said, pushing her chair out and standing to kiss him.

  “You ladies are always welcome here for dinner. Just give me notice so I can prepare a feast. I can make my famous moussaka, a Greek version of lasagna. Maybe Major Bailey would like to join us?” Theo said, hitting Grant on the back so hard he nearly toppled forward.

  “That’d be nice, sir,” Grant said.

  They said goodbye and walked out into a cool and star-kissed sky. She could feel him next to her, a presence as big as the volcanoes all around them. Neither spoke. Nearby, a cricket turned up the volume and a motor rumbled in the distance.

  When they reached her truck, he opened the door but stood blocking her way. “What do you say we try again? Not only with the horses and getting ‘Ohelo’s knee fixed up, but you and me. It feels like we got off to a rocky start and it only went downhill from there. I’m not asking for anything in return,” Grant said.

  She knew she should say no, but the word would not come. “That would be fine.”

  There was still enough light to see him smile, then quick as a hawk, he swooped in and kissed her on the cheek, one hand on her lower back. Before she could even react, he had pulled away.

  “I’ll be there tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours. Sweet dreams,” he said, disappearing into the night.

  THE COOKIES

  The next morning, marshmallow fog crawled in and settled over everything, distorting all sound. Birdsong was captured in its white confines, horses galloping out in the pasture sounded six feet away and the hum of the beehive vibrated the whole house. Lana refused to let the girls out, lest they get lost. Instead they decided to bake cookies with the ingredients they had. Coco wanted peanut butter, Marie swore that chocolate chip cookies were the new best thing and Lana was partial to Russian tea cakes. They were low on sugar, so honey would have to suffice.

  “Since we don’t have chocolate chips and we want to ration our peanut butter, let’s get creative,” Lana suggested. They did have a chocolate bar squirreled away, and Lana found cinnamon and nutmeg in the spice jars she’d brought from the Wagners’ house. “How about chocolate and spice swirls?”

  “Yes!” Marie said.

  Coco didn’t look as thrilled. “My mama says that you can bake hopes and dreams into your cookies, and then when you eat them, they come true. Do you believe that?”

  “What a nice idea,” Lana said. “I haven’t heard that before, but I think it’s worth a shot. Have you tried it before?”

  Coco nodded. “A couple times, but nothing happened.”

  “Hmm. One thing I know about hopes and dreams is that they come on their own time. So you may wish for something now that shows up later on.”

  “Why do we have to wait?”

  Lana laughed. “They say the reason for time is so everything doesn’t happen at once. Meaning, if all our dreams came true at the same time, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate them.”

  Coco’s little face scrunched up in thought. “I would.”

  “Are we allowed to tell each other what we wish into the cookies?” Lana asked.

  “No, because then it won’t come true.”

  Marie said to Coco, “You just said yours didn’t come true anyway.”

  “Give it time,” Lana said. “And anyway, hopes and dreams and prayers are all about imagining good things to happen. The more we do that, the better our lives.”

 
Lana realized she sounded an awful lot like Jack, the king of imagination. Maybe being inside these walls had that effect on her. Looking back on recent years, the act of imagining good things had been mostly absent from her life. She’d been too busy rehashing the past and blaming Buck and her father for a childless present. One’s own advice was easy to spoon out but so hard to swallow.

  In such a big kitchen, all three of them had plenty of space to do their jobs, though with Sailor stretched out on the floor, they had to step over her to reach the table. Marie measured dry ingredients, Coco chopped the chocolate, and Lana beat the eggs and supervised. On several occasions she almost told the girls about their parents but decided to wait until she knew more.

  “How about we add some coconut flakes? We have that bunch out back,” she said.

  They sent Benji out to husk and crack a coconut. He came back a few minutes later with several hunks of perfect waxy, white flesh. Lana sat him at the table with a cheese grater and put him to work. With each passing day, she was more grateful for his quiet competence. With music on the radio, instead of news, Lana found herself swaying along and tapping her foot to the beat. Marie was humming, and Coco asked Benji if she could steal a piece.

  Was this how it felt to have a family?

  Lana caught Mochi watching from the doorway. She walked over to him. “Can I get you something?”

  He nodded toward the kids. “This. Warms the heart.”

  “They’re a good bunch, aren’t they?”

  After the first batch of cookies went into the oven, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon wafted through the whole house. Lana, Coco and Marie sat at the table and talked about Christmases past. It turned out the Wagners celebrated with a German flair, building gingerbread houses and nativity scenes, and baking stollen and Christmas cookies. Ingrid also brewed a hot cider from apples picked on Mauna Kea. The woman sounded like the mother Lana had always wished for, and wanted to be. To be fair, Jack had done as fine a job with Christmas as could be expected of any single father.

  When the timer rang, they pulled out the first batch of cookies. Coco insisted they eat them hot and gooey. Lana took a bite. With the oven on, the kitchen had felt warm and cozy, but she soon began fanning herself. A feverish heat came over her.

  “Is it getting too hot in here?” she asked the girls.

  Coco had chocolate all over her lips. “No, but you look hot. And what’s that on your face?”

  Lana’s hand went to her cheek, which stung. “I don’t know, but it hurts. What does it look like?”

  Marie moved closer to inspect. “A red spot. Did something bite you?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  Lana pushed her chair back and ran to the bathroom mirror. There was a red mark on her skin, more like a burn than a bite, in the exact place that Grant had kissed her. She wiped at it. Nothing happened. She dabbed a wet cloth on it, but that didn’t help, either.

  When she went back to the kitchen, the plate was empty.

  “Did you two just eat all the cookies?” Lana said.

  Both girls exchanged guilty looks. The cookies were messy, and not pretty, but the combination of chocolate and coconut was a winner. Lana wanted another one, badly. Benji and Mochi came in as the next batch was coming out of the oven. Before Lana slipped the hot cookies onto the plate, she shoved one into her mouth. The melted chocolate burned going down.

  Mochi gave her an odd look. “That good, huh.”

  “That was rude of me, wasn’t it?” Lana said, wiping chocolate from the side of her mouth.

  The next batch was gone in a flash. Everyone but Mochi had chocolate smeared on fingers and faces. Even Benji, who was usually so well mannered, practically swallowed them whole. They all looked at one another. Lana felt herself go a shade darker. There had been many thoughts going through her mind as she sought out hopes and dreams. So much wanting. For the war to end quickly. The Wagners’ release. Wellness for Mochi. Her father to still be here. And more time in close proximity with Grant Bailey, despite everything.

  * * *

  At four o’clock sharp, they heard the clipped echo of hooves on lava. The fog had been thinning and thickening all afternoon, but now it was as dense as ever. Lana and the girls sat on the porch with Sailor, who made a low rumble in her throat.

  “I want to ride with him today. Can I?” Coco asked.

  “We’ll see, sweetie. In this weather I don’t know if any of us are going out,” Lana said. All the trees surrounding the house had been swallowed in white, and visibility was down to twenty feet or so.

  Through the fog, Grant and the horses emerged like apparitions, and she wondered how they hadn’t gotten lost along the way. Coco was down the steps before Lana knew it.

  “Aloha!” Grant called.

  Lana stood at the bottom of the steps. “Howdy,” she said.

  He pulled up and dismounted right in front of her. “This whiteout is tough for riding. Lucky we came out here yesterday and the horses know the way.”

  “We were wondering if you’d even show up.”

  “I thought about not coming for about five seconds, and then realized I had no way to reach you to let you know.”

  Coco held up a brown paper bag. “We made you cookies.”

  “Good thing I came, then,” he said, taking the bag. “I brought you something, too. Hold out your hand.”

  Coco beamed up at him.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  Grant reached into a saddlebag and placed something in her palm. Lana strained to see, and when Coco opened her eyes, she held up a small wooden horse. The look on her face was one of wonder and disbelief. It was a perfect replica of ‘Ohelo, mane and tail painted on.

  “Did you make this?” Lana asked.

  “Carved it myself out of sandalwood,” Grant said, proudly.

  “It’s lovely,” Lana told him.

  Coco stared at it for a while longer, lost in her own world, until Lana finally asked, “What is it, Coco?”

  “Nothing.” Then to Grant she said, “Thank you.”

  “Sure thing, little lady,” he said, patting her on the head. “Now, I know you were hoping to ride today, but we’re running out of daylight, and I want to see if I can find ‘Ohelo and see if she’ll let me wrap this bandage around her leg. Lana, would you come with me?”

  Coco’s face fell but she didn’t put up a fuss this time, and Marie seemed happy to stay back. They rode off down the pathway, Grant in the lead.

  “Stay close,” he said back to her.

  “Don’t worry.”

  They floated in the fog, down through the pasture, along the tree line and onto the lava. Off in the white, an iiwi squeaked like a rusty door hinge. Another answered. Lady picked her steps carefully and plodded along, hooves crunching the loose rock below.

  “I hope you know where you’re going,” she said to Grant’s back.

  “Same place as yesterday.”

  “How can you even tell where we are?”

  He held out a compass. “This helps. But most horses have a good sense of direction. I trust ’em.”

  “I just don’t want to end up in a steam vent or crevice,” she said.

  “Nor does Lady.”

  When they came upon the next clearing, the fog had thinned noticeably. Patches of pale blue peeked down from the sky. Grant stopped and Lana pulled up beside him. Something about his nearness was reassuring.

  “You said you hardly rode, but you seem pretty comfortable on a horse. I’d even venture to say you’re a natural,” he said.

  She felt a rush of pride at the compliment. “I thought I would have forgotten, but it comes back, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure does. Did you ride up here when you were young?” he asked.

  She nodded. “One summer we actually rode from Hilo all the way to the ranch down the
way. It took us a couple of days, and I never wanted to stop. I could have kept going around the whole island.”

  “That must have been something. So why did you stop? Riding, I mean.”

  “I fell into a different world. O‘ahu is more big city and there are more cars there than horses. At least in Honolulu.”

  “Do you miss Honolulu?”

  “I haven’t been gone long enough to miss it. But I already know I won’t. What about you? When did you learn to ride?” she asked.

  He seemed to think that was funny. “I was born with cowboy boots on,” he said.

  She laughed. “Your poor mother, then.”

  “My poor mom is right. But seriously, my dad took me riding with him as soon as I could sit up on my own. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t ride. I was that young.”

  “It must have been nice.”

  He shrugged. “Riding and horses and ranches are like breathing to me. That part was nice. My father’s temper wasn’t.”

  Lana could tell she’d touched a nerve. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be. That was then, this is now. And look where I am and who I’m with.”

  Lana thought about her motherlessness, and wondered which was worse: to have no parent or to have one who is alive but incapable of caring for you.

  “You could have picked a worse place to be stationed,” she said.

  He looked at her knowingly. “I believe there are no such things as accidents. Me being here, you being here.”

  “You sound like Jack,” she said.

  “That’s a high compliment, coming from his beautiful daughter.” He rustled around in his saddlebag and pulled out the cookies. “Mind if I have one?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He offered her the bag. “Would you like one?”

  She laughed. “No, thank you. I ate half the batch when they were hot out of the oven. I have to warn you they’re addictive.”