Dying for a Daiquiri (21 page)

I pulled alongside the other riders. Stan lifted his visor and shook his head in bemusement. “Looking a little raggedy, darling. You do know the visor goes down to cover your face.”

I knew it now.

“I bet this ride is beautiful when it’s not raining.” I peered into the mist and pointed to the left. “Is that the waterfall over there?”

Stan squinted. “I think so. What a shame about the weather. We’ll have to come back another time.”

Yesirree. We’d have to do that for sure. I parked the ATV and wandered over to listen to Les. He pointed to a few distant landmarks, including the waterfall and the black sand beach far below, but the falling rain made it difficult to see them clearly. On a normal day, we would ride down to a small pool where the group could frolic and swim. Since the weather wasn’t in a frolicsome mood today, everyone agreed with his decision to return to the center.

We loaded up in single-file formation. I ended up in the rear again with a rider behind me who was smart enough to bring raingear. It was comforting to have someone following me. I wouldn’t have to worry about being stuck by myself if something happened to me or my machine.

The sooner this expedition ended, the happier I’d be. We might even arrive back at our resort in time to get in some last minute beach time. I visualized the perfect afternoon––lying on a lounge next to the ocean with my Kindle in one hand and a daiquiri in the other. And since it was a daydream, I visualized a hunky guy next to me––a guy with… with…I was so deep in thought trying to decide if my dream date was a blond, blue-eyed sea captain or a police detective with Godiva-brown eyes, that I didn’t notice the ATV on my preoccupied tail.

Wham! My tush lifted in the air from the jolt of a machine ramming my vehicle. With a drop of over a thousand feet on my right, this was no place for an overly anxious driver. The trail was so slick, I was afraid to speed up to try to get away. I also didn’t want to risk any backward glances checking on the rider behind me. Maybe he would realize his mistake and drop back.

Bam. The vehicle slammed into my back right tire. The jolt sent me flying off my ATV. I landed on the slick grass and began sliding. Down, down, down.

Right over the rim.

The beauty of the flora and fauna in Hawaii never ceases to amaze me. Another wonderful attribute is the hardiness of the foliage. As I tumbled down the side of the mountain, my flailing arms managed to latch on to a thick green vine. I sucked in huge gasps of air while I clung with both hands to the remarkably sturdy plant.

I breathed deeply, trying to calm my stomach, which had catapulted up to my throat the moment I was airborne.

I had no idea if the rider who crashed into me was still in the area. Did he do it on purpose? Talk about road rage. And where did my own machine run off to? Had it crashed into a tree or even worse––another rider?

I yelled and screamed to no avail. The group was probably miles away by now. Would anyone realize I was missing before it was too late? Did Les keep track of the riders? Tears rolled down my muddy cheeks as I realized I was hanging from a cliff.

Alone and on my own.

Where was a blue-eyed or a brown-eyed hunk when I needed one? Although at this point, I would take a cross-eyed, cross-dressing hunchback if he could haul me back up the mountain.

Get a grip, Laurel. Or, at least, maintain the one you have. Thank goodness for my broken corkscrew back home. If it wasn’t for my weekly fight with the wine cork, the biceps in my right arm would never have been strong enough to hold on until help arrived.

If it ever arrived. I shifted so I could look around to get my bearings, but the movement caused my left knee to scrape against some jagged rocks. The vine I clung to dropped a few more inches. A couple of stones bounced down the hill, pummeling my arms and legs.

The stalk of the plant drooped lower and lower and so did I. My tenuous grip was loosening, and I had no idea if the plant could continue to support my weight.

If I’d only skipped that second macadamia nut muffin at breakfast.

My head ached as if someone was repeatedly punching my helmet. The pounding increased as rumbling sounded above. Was my attacker returning to finish the job? Then the ground above me started to shake.

This had better not be an earthquake. I was in no mood for a natural disaster. I was enough of a walking, talking disaster without any help from unseen geologic forces.

A line of bright headlights beamed above, almost blinding me.

“Yoo hoo, Laurel,” shouted Liz. “Hang on, luv. We’re here for you.”

“Don’t let go,” Stan yelled.

Like I would?

I cautiously lifted my head and spotted our tour guide anchoring a rope around a large boulder near the rim overlook. I hoped it was strong enough to support both our weights. The rubber soles of his shoes bounced off the cliff face as he worked his way down to where I clung to my sagging lifeline. In no time at all, Les was by my side and tying another rope around my waist. I walked, crawled and occasionally slipped back a few feet as I climbed uphill. With the entire group working together to hoist me up, I eventually made it to the top.

Once I reached the overlook, I could have kissed the ground, but I’d had enough close and personal contact with the muddy soil. I decided to kiss Dave, Stan, Liz, Brian, and the tour guide instead.

“How did you fall over the rim?” Liz asked. She wrapped her arm around my bruised and aching body, giving me a gentle squeeze.

“I was rammed from behind.” The minute I uttered those words, everyone stopped talking.

Les whirled around, his dark eyes startled. “What?”

My eyes scanned the group of people gathered around me. “Someone rammed me. He wore a helmet so I have no idea what he looks like.”

“Would you recognize the driver’s clothes?” Stan asked, morphing into Hawaii Five-O mode.

“He was wearing raingear.” I scrutinized the other riders more carefully, none of whom was dressed in any type of protective clothing. Could my assailant have stripped off his raingear and be hiding in plain sight? That was a disquieting thought. I rubbed my palms over my cheeks then looked at them. My hands were raw, covered with mud and something that resembled the color my hair stylist used on my roots.

“Oh, luv, your hands and face are bloody well messed up,” Liz said. “And I left my Aloe Vera packets in the hotel. They’re so soothing in moments like this.”

“Yes, there’s nothing like some soothing Aloe Vera lotion to erase the memory of FALLING OVER A CLIFF!”

“Are you up to driving yourself back on your ATV?” Les asked. “If not, you can sit behind me.”

The weight of making a decision about how to drive back to the ATV center suddenly seemed like the weight of the world, and I dropped to the ground. Dave immediately flopped down next to me. He put his arm around me and reminded me of all the numerous incidents in the past when I’d managed to return home after falling off my bicycle, out of a wagon, off my skateboard, and off the roof of the doghouse.

Yes, I was pretending to be Snoopy. Doesn’t every five-year-old?

By the time he’d finished regaling me and the other riders with some of my childhood antics, Dave had me laughing so hard over previous incidents in my checkered youth that my ribs ached even more than before. Once again, just as he’d done many decades ago, my big brother came through for me.

Dave offered to have me ride behind him, and even though it was a tight fit for us siblings, I smiled in agreement.

Like they say, blood is thicker than water, and I had the blood dripping down my face to prove it!

By the time we reached the tour office, I felt beat-up and beat. I practically fell out of the ATV, but Les, our guide, was by my side in seconds, prepared to escort me into the building. My friends and brother were right behind me. The minute the woman in the center laid sympathetic eyes on me, she reached under the counter and pulled out a full-size first-aid kit.

“Gal, you look like you been run over by an ATV. Did that machine give you some trouble?”

I nodded, which made my head feel like it was stuck between two cymbals performing a rendition of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”

“She had a run-in with a cliff,” Stan said. “I think the cliff won.”

“Well, you come with Naomi and I’ll get you all fixed up like new.”

Naomi led me into the backroom where she proceeded to smother my assorted body parts with fragrant oils. An assortment of BandAids soon dotted my arms and legs. Liz had followed us in and the two women compared notes on their favorite healing lotions and potions. My friend assured me that Naomi’s
kukui
oil combined with Liz’s special Aloe Vera salve would turn me into a new woman. No one would ever know I’d experienced a literal cliff-hanger.

On the car ride back to the hotel, I struggled to remain awake. Worried that I’d suffered a concussion, Dave insisted on nudging me every time my chin dropped to chest level. We finally stopped at a Starbucks in Waimea. Dave decided if a double shot of espresso and one of their dark chocolate bars wasn’t sufficient to keep me from dozing, then we would need to find an urgent care facility.

For years, Dave had claimed I needed to have my head examined.

The gasps from a few customers when I entered the store, warned me I must look like a complete disaster. There had been no mirrors in the ATV center so I almost suffered a heart attack when I entered the ladies’ room and saw my image reflected over the sink. I looked like a cast member of
Survivor
.

And not one from the winning team.

After five minutes in the bathroom, I realized nothing outside of laser surgery or black magic would improve my appearance. I joined the gang seated at a table in the corner. Brian must have gone outside to make a call because he walked back in, stuffing his cell in his Bermuda shorts pocket.

“How do you feel, luv?” asked Liz.

“Like a convoy of ATVs ran over my body.”

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Brian said. “Did you see how far down that drop was into the valley?”

Yes, indeed. I’d definitely noticed the two-thousand-foot drop into the valley below me. My hands trembled as I gripped my drink. Dark brown drops of hot espresso dotted the table.

Stan grabbed a napkin and cleaned up my mess. “So tell us why you think you were intentionally knocked off your ATV?”

I sipped the dark brew and let the coffee work its comforting warmth into my stomach before I replied.

“The driver rammed me twice. The first time I managed to hold on to the ATV, but just barely. I figured he was simply a tailgater and hit me accidentally. The next impact was more forceful. It had to be intentional.”

“Do you think it was a case of road rage?” Liz tapped her stir stick on the table while she contemplated the possibilities. “Even if no one in the group admitted to it?”

I shook my head. “I suppose there are crazy drivers anywhere, but it felt like such a personal attack. I’ve mulled it over, and now I’m wondering if it had something to do with Keiki’s murder. Maybe someone wanted me out of the way.”

“They almost succeeded,” Liz said dolefully.

“Who knew you were going to be on the ride this morning?” Brian asked.

Dave and I exchanged glances. At least one person knew about our excursion. But he should have been out riding the waves this morning. Not riding on an ATV.

Regan called Dave while we were en-route to the hotel. With the reality crew arriving at Koffee Land the next day to begin filming, Regan claimed that Pilar insisted she stay onsite overnight to assist them with any issues that might come up. Victor would be unavailable due to Keiki’s memorial service the next day.

A range of emotions crossed Dave’s face as they conversed. Anger that his wife was placing her career over her husband once again, seemed to be followed by relief that he didn’t have to worry about said wife sleeping next to him that evening. At least one thing was certain. Regan wasn’t anywhere near Waipi’o today.

We dropped Dave at his home so he could clean up. Since Brian had to be in court Monday morning, this was the newlyweds’ last night on the island. Brian and Liz wanted to run errands and pick up souvenirs to take home. Her eyes twinkling, Liz declared she had a special surprise in store for me. Knowing my best friend’s quest to discover the next anti-aging miracle cream, she probably planned on emolliating me with some slick new spa item she’d discovered on the island. With my arms throbbing from my cliff-side descent, I welcomed anything that would soothe my aching limbs.

Dave agreed to drive over to the hotel and dine with Mother, Stan and me later this evening. My watch showed three o’clock, and, concussion or not, I needed a nap. Maybe I could find a hammock near the beach. Once my mother saw my condition, I sincerely doubted she would let me rest without a lengthy grilling.

Fortunately, Mother was out when I entered our room. I flopped on the bed, a huge mistake, since the firm mattress was not designed to soothe a battered body. The walk into our marble bathroom entailed only five additional steps, but my limbs were so stiff and sore it felt like five miles. A hot toddy and a hot bath sounded wonderful.

And a
hot Tommy
to hug me and kiss my many boo boos sounded even better.

I shook my bedraggled curls. It was a good thing the detective wasn’t on the island. There was no way I wanted Tom to see me in my current condition. Most women would worry their boyfriend wouldn’t be interested in a body as bruised and battered as mine. My detective, on the other hand, would shift into investigative mode. The last thing I needed was another lecture.

The bath proved the perfect cure. My aches disappeared beneath the hot water and jasmine-scented bubble bath provided by the hotel. The bubbles not only soothed my physical aches and pains, they cleared the fog from my brain.