The Holiday (3 page)

There wasn't a doubt in her mind
that Aaron had loved her, but he hadn't been the most attentive fiancé. He'd
talked about forever, but it'd always been
his
idea of forever.

She felt the resentment crawl up
her gorge to choke her as she thought about all the times she'd tried to add
her dreams to theirs only to have him smilingly deter her. Her fists clenched
when she remembered talking to him about going to Europe instead of Australia.
He'd listened and gently put her off, making her feel like a bitch for being
annoyed with him when he was so loving about it. Then he'd gone off to
Australia to surf.

And drown.

She wondered if she'd fought him
more and made him go to Europe if he'd still be alive. But he'd never have gone
for that.

"Leilani?"

She looked up to find Sam and
Mark both staring at her in concern. "I got an offer to go to London to
help curate a show," she blurted.

Jumping, Sam clapped her hands.
"That's awesome."

"I don't think I can
go."

"What?" Sam exchanged a
look with Mark.

"You ladies go into the
living room," he said, pulling down glasses. "I'll bring you some
wine and then get going on dinner."

"My hero." Sam kissed
him and waved Leilani to follow her. Once they settled on the couch in the
living room, she said, "Okay, explain yourself to me, woman. Tell me why
you can't go to London."

Leilani took a deep breath,
knowing to say she was afraid wouldn't end well with Sam, so she went with the
obvious. "To curate a show takes time. I can't leave the gallery for that
long."

"Why not? I'm here."

"Yes, but you have your own
art to focus on. Between that and Mark you won't have time to run the gallery
too."

"Sure I will. I forget how
much I love the business side of things until I'm there, in that closet of an
office, pouring over the books. It balances out my artistic side, to express my
business acumen too. You'd be doing me a favor, and this is an excellent PR
opportunity for Wakida Gallery. The gallery in London is a good one, right?"

"A great one. Very well
respected in the international community, and now that I met the owner I know
why."

"That spitfire British lady from
the other day?"

"Yes. Melanie King."

"Based on her excellent
taste in artists alone, I'd say her gallery rocks." Sam grinned. "Seriously
though, tell me what your real reservations are, because you've been talking
about going to London since the second I met you. Does it have to do with
Aaron?"

She nodded.
Guilt
was the first word that came to mind. Just the fact that she
was even entertaining the idea was awful. She was letting Aaron and his mom and
everyone down. "The surf competition in Aaron's memory is going to be in a
month and a half."

Her friend shrugged. "Just
come back for it."

"Mel said she wants me there
until the end of June, no negotiations."

"I still think you should
go."

"But Aaron—"

"—Is dead." Sam
shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, I really am, but he's dead and
you're not. How long are you going to sacrifice your dreams for him?"

"I'm not sacrificing my
dreams for him." But it sounded weak even to her own ears.

"It sure looks like you are."

Leilani sighed. "It's so
hard. His mom's been like my own for so long. I feel like I owe her more."

"You feel guilty because
you're alive and he's not." Her tone softened as she said, "You know
it's logical to feel guilty, right? Especially considering that you weren't
entirely happy with him before he died."

"I wish..." She shook
her head. "It doesn't matter what I wish."

"Yes, it does. Remember the
other day, when you told me you hadn't had sex in ages?"

She blushed. "Please don't
remind me."

"Of course I'm going to
remind you. I'm your friend." Sam leaned forward, intent. "This is
the perfect answer to your problem. Go to London and get laid."

"
Sam
." She tried to laugh, but the wild beating of her heart
choked the sound off. Colin's face flashed in her mind, and a shiver of longing
went up her spine.

"You asked for this, and now
that the universe has given you what you wanted, you're going to ignore
it?" Sam shook her head. "Go to London, Leilani."

"I can't—"

"Yes, you can. I'm serious,"
her friend said, sitting back. "British guys are hot in an aloof way. Go
find Colin Firth."

She had her own Colin. Would he
be interested in her though? The mere thought of sex with Colin sparked
excitement. She hadn't felt really excited about anything in a long time, she
realized.

"Hugh Grant is cute
too." Sam snapped her fingers. "Gerard Butler. He's British, isn't
he?"

"I'll look into it."

"Good." She beamed at
her husband as he walked into the room with their wine. "Thanks, baby."

Leilani accepted a flute of
champagne. "What are we celebrating?"

"You going to London,"
Sam said, holding up her glass.

She toasted to it, still unsure,
but the moment her glass clinked with her friend's, something shifted in her,
and she began thinking of the possibilities.

Because it'd been late, and
because she'd had so much wine to drink, Leilani stayed the night.

She woke early, like she always
did, and got dressed in yesterday's clothing. Leaving her shoes off, she went
downstairs.

The house was still, the kind of
still that told her no one was up yet. She tiptoed into the kitchen, set water
to boil, and began preparing the press pot for coffee.

She'd known Mark for years, since
her cousin had brought him home for winter break when they'd been freshmen.
Mark had instantly become family, spending all his breaks with the
Wakida-Camara family, until he finally moved to Maui himself. He was firmly
entrenched in their family now. He'd backed her gallery, and her father was his
head landscape artist.

She spent enough time around Mark
to know he was an early riser, which made the fact that he wasn't puttering
around surprising. But having a partner changed you, and evidently Mark found a
reason to stay in bed longer these mornings.

She smiled as she poured the
ground coffee into the press pot, happy for them. Then she frowned, wishing
someone was keeping her in bed.

Colin's face popped into her mind.
He wasn't Mel's boyfriend. If she went to London, she could see him.

She heard Sam's pernicious
whisper,
Go get laid
.

The idea of sex made her sigh.
The idea of sex with Colin made her thighs squeeze together and her nipples
harden.

She looked down and noticed that
she'd sprinkled the coffee all over the counter.

Shaking her head, she swept the
grounds into the press pot and poured hot water in after. She needed to stop
thinking about sex, particularly sex with a man that was halfway across the
world.

Waiting until the grounds had
steeped long enough, she plunged the pot and poured herself a cup. She blew at
the top of the hot liquid and stared out the window to the garden. Movement
caught her attention. Knowing it had to be her father, she let herself out and
went in search of him.

Tomio Wakida had been tending Mark's
garden since Mark moved there. Leilani knew art when she saw it, and her
father's work definitely counted as art. He called himself a simple farmer,
sometimes a gardener when he felt fanciful, but he was a master with nature.

She found him weeding in her
favorite section of the garden, what she called "the white room." Everything
bloomed white there, and when all the flowers were in season, it was like
sitting in a cloud. Leilani sat on the wooden bench he'd placed there for her.
"Good morning, Dad."

"This is a surprise,"
he said without turning around.

"You didn't pick working on
this section because you knew I was here?"

"Of course I did." He
flashed a bright grin over his shoulder. "But I was surprised to find you up
so early."

"I came for dinner and stayed
the night."

He nodded, gently coaxing a weed
from the earth. Once he'd told her that plants were living creatures, even
weeds, and that not all living creatures were meant to live but that they all
deserved respect nonetheless. Nothing deserved to have its life cruelly ripped
apart.

She had to agree, especially
after this past year.

"You're thinking about
Aaron."

She startled. "How do you
know?"

He rested on his haunches, hands
on his knees, and pointed the spade at her. "The way your shoulders are hunched
at your ears. You always tense when you think about Aaron. You always have,
even when he was alive."

She frowned. "Really?"

He nodded. "I disliked that
most about him, that he caused you unhappiness."

"He couldn't help
dying." Although part of her, uncharitably, questioned that. He was one of
the most experienced and skilled surfers in the world. Of anyone, he'd have
been able to read the waves, and he'd have known he shouldn't have gone out.
Especially to a place like Shipstern Bluffs, that had a record for being one of
the most deadly surf spots in the world.

"I'm not talking about him
dying," her father said. "I'm talking about how unhappy you've been
since you became engaged to him."

"I—"

"Don't deny it," he cut
in, his gaze shrewd. "Your loyalty is to be commended, but don't lie to
yourself. Ever since you were a little girl, if you wanted something, nothing
stood in your way. Look at what you've done with your gallery. I'm proud of
what you've built."

She nodded, unable to speak over
the lump of emotion in her throat.

Tomio continued. "If you
wanted to marry Aaron, his schedule and your work wouldn't have interfered. You
would have made it happen."

There wasn't anything she could
say to deny that. "I feel guilty, Dad," she admitted for the first time
out loud.

Slowly he stood up, pausing for a
moment as if he was making sure his legs were under him, and then came to sit
next to her. His silence was an invitation.

Sighing, she put her head on his
shoulder, the way she used to when she was a little girl. "I should have
broken up with him while he was alive. I feel guilty, because I was given an
easy out. Only the joke's on me, because instead of being out, it's as though
I'm tied to him forever."

He put his hand over hers, rough
and warm and familiar.

She sighed. "A woman who
owns an art gallery in London wants me to collaborate on a project with her. In
London."

"You've always wanted to go
to London."

"Yes."

"But you're thinking of
turning it down," he said sagely. "You're afraid to go, but the real reason
you won't go is Aaron."

"Yes."

Her father lifted her chin so she
had to meet his gaze. "How long is he going to control your life?"

Sam had said the same thing,
almost verbatim, last night, and it still made her bristle. "He doesn't
control my life."

Tomio arched a brow.

"Much," she amended.

"Leilani, do you see that
ginger plant there?"

She looked to where he gestured
and nodded.

"It was being stifled by the
plants around it, that were growing closer into its space. It was in danger of
being overtaken, but then it found a way out." He pointed to the other
side of the path. "It found space a distance away, where the other plants
didn't exist."

"Are you saying that spot is
its London?"

"I'm saying that you're
being stifled here, and that perhaps some space will be all you need to
breathe. Grow, Leilani. Your roots will always be here, no matter where you go.
Trust that."

She turned her head into his
shoulder and breathed him in. He smelled of sun and earth—the scents of
home. "I love you, Daddy."

He squeezed her hand and kissed
her forehead. Then he stood. "I have work, and so do you. Think about what
I said."

"Okay."

"And call your mother. She
worries about you."

She nodded, hiding her amusement.
He said that to cover up the fact that he was the worrier in the family.
"I will. Bye, Dad."

He hummed, returning his
attention to his beloved plants.

She remembered seeing him just
like that when she was little. Some things never changed. Back then she'd have sat
next to him, drawing in the dirt.

Smiling, she walked back to the
house. Because she needed to go home to change before going to the gallery, she
cleaned up, left a thank you note, and took off.

The drive home so early in the
morning was meditative, but she didn't feel any closer to deciding what to do
about Mel and London. Being in sales, Leilani was a good judge of character,
and if she'd learned anything about people over the years, she knew Mel was the
type of person who'd be relentless until she got what she wanted. She'd call
until Leilani caved in or said no.

After redressing in fresh
clothing, she grabbed her purse and her phone, startling when it rang. How
strange would it be if it were Mel?

A glance at the caller ID showed
it was Mary. Leilani debated not answering, but that'd only put off the
inevitable, and the last time she screened the calls Mary showed up at the
gallery. Sighing, she forced a smile to her voice. "You're up and about
early, Mary."

"Leilani, I've been
thinking."

She knew no scarier words in the
English language. "What about?" she asked, already knowing the
answer.

"About Aaron."

Her stomach turned and something
clutched uncomfortably in her chest. Breath, she reminded herself, as she
walked out of her little house and got into her car. "Something specific
about him?" she asked as calmly as she could.