I'm Kona Love You Forever (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series Book 6) (19 page)

“Looks
like fun,” Hatch said.

“Yeah.
You know, I’ve lived in the islands all my life and I’ve never been in an outrigger canoe. My auntie wasn’t a big fan of water sports. But I think it was more about the cost than the fact that she wasn’t interested.”

“You
’ve never been in one of these?”

“N
o, but as you know, I never learned to swim, either. We went to the beach for two reasons:
huli-huli
chicken and gossip. The other stuff, like sunbathing and surfing, was pretty much left to the tourists.”

“Th
at settles it. We’ve got to go out in a canoe today.” He headed for a red and white canoe on the far end of the small cove.

I ran to keep up with him.
“Hatch, didn’t you hear the part about ‘I can’t swim’? And besides, this looks like some kind of rowing club.”

“
No worries, they look like cool people.” He shouted to a knot of people standing by the red and white canoe. “Mind if we join you?”

A
guy who could pass as a clone for Farrah’s catamaran skipper husband, Ono, turned and faced us. He had the same unruly brown hair bleached blond at the crown, rumpled khaki board shorts, and a tan so deep his teeth seemed to glow when he smiled.

“
We’re giving a lesson. You two want to come along?” The guy pointed to the canoe.

“Sounds great,” said Hatch.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to Hatch. “I thought you came over here to get something you forgot. Shouldn’t we focus on that?”

He ignored me, instead clapping the guy on the shoulder and saying,
“Thanks,
bruddah
. Count us in.”

“
Look,” I said to the outrigger guy. “We haven’t the first clue of how to do this. Maybe we should come back another time.” By now I was getting seriously annoyed with Hatch. Being a fireman makes him used to last-minute change-ups. The alarm bell goes off and he leaps into action. For me, a wedding planner, the job title pretty much sums it up. I like to
plan
.

“No worries, hop on in,” said the guy. “By the way,
the name’s Mike.”

“
I’m Hatch,” said Hatch, gripping Mike’s hand in a ‘cool guy’ handshake. “And this is Pali.”

I leaned in and gave Mike a quick
conventional handshake. I felt more than a bit apprehensive, but figured that, for once, I’d try going with the flow. I didn’t have anywhere to be and Hatch had promised to get us back to Maui tomorrow, so why not try a little boat ride?

Mike threw
Hatch two well-worn life vests. “I need you guys to put these on. Safety regs require guests to wear them.”

Hatch blew out a breath. “I’m a firefighter. I’m trained in open water rescue.”

“Good for you,” Mike said. “But in my canoe, you’re a guest.”

Hatch helped me tighten
the straps on my life vest. In air marshal training I’d had to jump into a pool and tread water while donning one of those yellow water-landing vests flight attendants demonstrate before take-off. I’d barely passed. There isn’t much that scares me, but drowning’s right up there with the Ebola virus.

Mike placed
us in the canoe according to some unspoken order. Hatch was told to go to the bow or very front of the canoe and Mike directed me to sit directly behind him. Hatch took my elbow and helped me balance as I climbed in. The canoe felt solid but we were still up on the sand. How tippy would it get when we pushed off into the waves?

Mike
ordered people into the rest of the seats and then he took the seat in the very back.

“Okay, first we’re gonna learn a little bit about the canoe and how to row,” said Mike in a no-nonsense voice. “If you don’t
speak Hawaiian, no worries, but a lot of the vocabulary is in Hawaiian since this sport originated in Hawaii. Like most things, the guys who invent it get to call the shots.”

He went on to explain the parts of the canoe: the
hull, the
ama
(the outrigger part that floats off to the side) and the
lakos
, (which are the two pieces connecting the
ama
to the hull). He went on to explain the different seats of the canoe and what each seat is supposed to do. Hatch was in seat one. Mike explained seat one is the “stroker” or pace setter. All the other paddlers are supposed to follow his rhythm. I was in seat two. Seat two is the “caller.” That person is supposed call out if a change in pace or direction is needed. I flashed Mike a worried look and he said I’d get a pass on the calling since I was just learning.

The next three seats were the “
power seats.” Those positions are supposed to keep the canoe moving forward and watch that the
ama
doesn’t come out of the water. Mike said if the
ama
becomes airborne or unstable the entire canoe can
huli
or flip over.

If I’d been Catholic I probably would’ve made the sign of the cross
at that point, but as it was, I just winced.

“I’m the ‘steersman’,” said Mike. “That’s the same as the captain. I’m the
only person you should listen to. There are three ironclad rules: no shoes, no swearing, and absolutely no stepping over the hull. Stepping over a canoe is disrespectful. If you need to get to the other side, you go around. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. I looked longingly at the crystal blue swimming pool only a few yards away. For me, pools aren’t about swimming; it’s the lounge chairs and umbrella drinks that come with the package.

Since we were already seated, four guys came alongside to push us into the water. They waded up to their waists and gave a big shove.

Mike yelled, “
Ma kau kau
?”

Each of us glanced around as if hoping someone else knew the answer.

Mike said, “
Ma kau kau
means ‘Are you ready?’ You’re supposed to shout ‘
Ai
’ in response.

We all feebly muttered, “
Ai
.”

“Let’s try that again,” Mike said. “
We need to at least
start out strong. Okay,
ma kau kau
?”

“
Ai
,” we yelled. It felt good. It filled me with the same kick-ass attitude I get at
kung fu
tournaments. Maybe if I could get past obsessing about my lungs collapsing as I went under for the third time, I might actually learn to enjoy this.

CHAPTER 21

We paddled back to shore, weary but relaxed. My arms ached from pulling the paddle through the water
, and my back was stiff from bending left for four strokes and then right for four strokes.

“
What’d you think?” said Hatch as we exited the canoe. I was careful to stay on my side, even though it meant getting my feet wet as I passed around the front of the hull.

“Loved it
,” I said. “I was a little nervous at first, but it’s exhilarating to fly through the water like that.”

I looked back as the last of the canoes was being hauled up on the beach.
Mike appeared to be hitting on one of the women who’d been in our group. She was a curvy blond with an accent—Pennsylvania? Maybe New Jersey?—who he’d assigned to the seat directly in front of him. Seems inspecting her backside for more than an hour-long boat ride had stirred his interest.

“But what about the thing you forgot?” I said. “
Shouldn’t you be dealing with that?”

“All in good time,” he said. He leaned over and gave me a peck on the mouth.

“Are we going to the room
now?” I said.

“Not yet. There’s something I want you to see first.”

He led me around the beach and up onto a paved walkway. Earlier, when we’d paddled out of the cove, I’d noticed a thatched structure with a steep roof but I figured it was just a Disneyland-style mockup for a beach luau or a tourist photo op.

“Where are we going?”

“Here. Do you know where you’re standing?”

I shook my head.

“This is where King Kamehameha lived. He actually lived here, and this rock thing…” He pointed to a lava rock platform that every Hawaiian school kid would immediately recognize as a
heiau
, or sacred place.

“You mean the
heiau
?” I said.

“Yeah.
I’m afraid that word has way too many vowels for a mainland guy like me. Anyway, this is the actual place where Kamehameha came before battles to pray for victory. Isn’t that amazing?”

“I love stuff like this,” I said.

“I know you do. And I love you. That’s why I wanted you to see this.”

He pulled me close and
put his arm around my waist as we walked back to the room. Who says late afternoon “happy hour” is best spent tossing back discounted
mai tais
?

When we got up for dinner it was already dark outside. I put on the crop pants and shirt I’d worn earlier in the day and tried to smooth out the wrinkles.

“I thought maybe we’d go someplace a little fancy,” Hatch said.

“I didn’t bring anything fancy,” I said.

“You look great. I just thought since it was our last night here you might want to haul out the bling.”

I laughed. Like I had any bling—here or anywhere else.

“
Oh, I forgot. I brought along the dress you bought me last year,” I said. Until I’d met Hatch I had exactly one dress to my name. A little black shift that had faded to charcoal gray. For my birthday he’d bought me a fancy new dress to wear for a special event. As it turned out, I never got to wear it. It was lightweight and pretty sturdy so I’d rolled it up and tucked it in my roller bag just in case the mood struck me to get gussied up.

“
Great. I’d love to finally see you in it.” It was a subtle slam. He’d been disappointed I’d chosen family drama over being with him on his special night. From my perspective, I hadn’t had a choice; from his, I’d simply made the wrong choice.

I slipped into the bathroom to change. One of the downsides of sharing accommodations before a date i
s it pretty much squelches the “ta-dah” factor. But when I came out of the bathroom wearing the long sapphire-blue dress with the slit up to “there” Hatch let out a low whistle.

“Now
, that’s what I call gorgeous,” he said.

“Me or the dress?”

“Come here,” he said. He took me in his arms. “A minute ago that dress was in a pile on the bed looking like a beach towel. Now it looks like a million bucks. So, yeah, I’d say it was you.”

“
Mahalo
,” I said. “Where are we going for dinner?”

“One of your favorite places
over here.”

“Jackie Rey’s?”

“Nope.”

“Rapan
ui Café?”

“No.” He smiled. “Trust me, you’ll love it but you’ll never guess it.”

He led me down to the beach and over to the area of the King Kamehameha
heiau
. “Close your eyes and imagine yourself here two hundred and fifty years ago,” he said.

I closed my eyes. A cool breeze lifted my hair from the back of my neck and I shivered. Hatch grasped my fingers and I could feel him moving in front of me.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

A
bout a dozen people were standing behind Hatch, but in the darkness of the moonless night I couldn’t even distinguish the men from the women. Tiki torches flickered, illuminating the faces and then casting them back in shadow. But among the people there was one face I’d recognize no matter how dark it was.

“Farrah?”

She came forward and hugged me. “I’m so excited for you.”

Hatch got down on one knee and a flash went off, blinding me for a moment.

“I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to do this,” he said. “Do you remember the first time we met at your house?”

“I do,” I said.

“Hey,” he said to the gathering behind him. “She’s already got that part down.”

A cold chill skittered down my spine. I
ran through the list of possible scenarios, eliminating all but one. I mean, after all, I’m in the business.

Like pixelated images coming into focus I began to
make out the faces looking on. Besides Farrah, there was her husband, Ono. Next to them was my roommate Steve and his latest flame, and next to them Sifu Doug and his wife Lani. In a tight knot on the far side of the group stood a handful of guys from Hatch’s fire station along with assorted wives and girlfriends. Even the dogs, Sir Lipton and Wahine, were on hand to bear witness.

“How did you all
come over here?” I said to Farrah. I wanted to say “why” instead of “how” but the question had pretty much already been answered.