Kona Winds Page 5

  "It is kind of a private joke, but you might not appreciate the humor." With amazing tact, Debbie changed the subject. "I thought I heard your car drive in just before Julie arrived."

  "I did. I gave her a ride from the highway."

  "At least you didn't have to climb our miniature Matterhorn," Debbie teased.

  "That's what I thought," Julie agreed with the sentiment. "I'll take these things upstairs to my room. Talk to you later, Debbie."

  "Okay."

  Ruel stepped to one side to let Julie past. The touch of his gaze made her skin prickle. It was an odd sensation that didn't go away until she was in her room.

  Wearing a wrap around skirt and a shell pink blouse over her swimsuit, Julie attended Sunday service the next day at one of the little churches along the highway. Afterward she took the bus to Sunset Beach where there were as many sightseers as surfers. One group was on the sand dunes watching, the other was bobbing in the ocean with their brightly colored surfboards.

  She slipped off her sandals and walked barefoot on the sandy beach. A short distance from the sightseers, she took her towel from the beach bag and spread it over the sand, anchoring it from the tugging tradewinds with her shoes and suntan lotion. After removing her blouse and skirt, she folded them neatly and stowed them in the beach bag, then stretching her long legs on the towel, she began applying the sunscreen to her exposed skin. Luckily she tanned easily, but she knew about the deceptive tropic sun of the islands and didn't want to risk a burn.

  Leaning back on her elbows, she watched the surfers. The waves seemed awesome when compared with the California surf she knew. Here, they looked as if they were ten feet high. A surfer on a red board caught her eye as she watched him catch an immense loft of water. He rode the wave, twisting and balancing. Julie held her breath when she saw the water gyrating around him, but he came skimming out, crouched on his board.

  In absolute triumph, the surfer rode the wave into shore, milking the last curve out of the wave before it carried him to the beach. Breathless, ecstatic, he picked up his board and looked back at the ocean that he had succeeded in conquering this time. Julie couldn't resist applauding. It had been a magnificent ride. He turned, sun-tanned and golden, and flashed that happy, triumphant smile at her.

  "Great ride," Julie added words to her applause.

  He trotted up the sand to where she sat and dropped on his knees beside her. "That wave gyrated around me like a dream."

  "I saw it," she nodded.

  He was still trying to catch his breath, panting from the exertion of the ride. A shining pair of brown eyes ran their gaze over her, admiration glinting openly.

  "Do you surf?" he asked.

  "I have," Julie admitted. "But that was a long time ago. These waves here are out of my league."

  He set his board upright in the sand and sat down beside her. "Where are you from?" He wiped the water from his face and pushed his darkly wet hair back with a raking comb of his fingers.

  "California."

  "I'm Frank Smith from Virginia." He offered her his hand.

  "Julie Lancaster." The grip of his hand was firm, but he didn't attempt to hold hers too long.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Like everybody else, I'm here to watch," she answered, glancing toward the other sightseers on the dune.

  "No," he smiled. "I meant what are you doing here in Hawaii? Are you on vacation?"

  "I'm working. How about you?" she returned his question.

  "I'm working, too, at night as a waiter at a restaurant up the road. I came over here two years ago on vacation to see if the surf was as great as everybody said it was. I'm still here."

  "I've only been here a week myself, but I already like it," Julie said to explain the paleness of her skin compared to the deep tan of his.

  "Your back is beginning to look a bit red. Would you like me to put some lotion on it?" Frank Smith offered.

  Julie hesitated, then agreed, "Yes, I would, thank you." As he worked the lotion over her shoulders and spine, there was a caressing quality to his touch. Julie knew he was waiting for a reaction from her, but she waited until she felt that the bare part of her back had been coated with lotion.

  "That's good enough."

  He didn't argue. "A bunch of us are getting together for a party tonight. Would you like to come?"

  "No, I have to work tomorrow," she refused. "Maybe another time."

  "Remember you said that," he smiled. For a quarter of an hour longer, he sat and talked to her. His gaze kept wavering between her and the waves swelling in the sea. Rising, he lifted his surfboard. "I guess I'll go back out. Sure you don't want to come along?"

  "No, thanks." She wished him, "Catch a good one!"

  With a last wave to her he waded into the water and lay on his board to paddle out where the other surfers were bobbing. Julie stayed for another hour, enjoying the sheer beauty of the surf. Sometimes she saw Frank trying a wave, but most of the time she had his red surfboard mixed up with one belonging to another surfer. After spending another hour in the hot sun, she decided to leave.

  This time she took the bus to Waimea Bay. The water was glass smooth. There weren't any of the breakers that Ruel had warned her about. After a cooling swim in the crystal clear turquoise waters, Julie wisely chose to avoid the sun and relaxed in the shade of the trees in the park.

  It was almost five before she caught the bus to take her back. She enjoyed the ride, even if the bus driver acted as if he owned the road where other traffic was concerned. She was free to look at the countryside.

  Horses grazed in small pastures and an odd cow or two was staked out in a vacant lot. There were stands of ironwood trees with their shaggy needles crowding the beaches and green hills rising away from the road. There were sugar cane fields and, oddly enough, cornfields. A flowering shrub of some sort seemed to be blooming in almost every house-yard the bus passed.

  Julie was so intent on the scenery that she almost missed her stop. Luckily she didn't. This time, though, Ruel didn't drive up behind her shortly after she got off the bus. She had to walk all the way to the house, including up the switchback road, and the calves of her legs were aching when she finally entered the house.

  The pace of the first week set the routine for the second week. The better part of the day was spent with Debbie and her schoolwork. Sometimes in the late afternoon, Julie would swim in the pool. On her next two free days she took the bus to the Polynesian Cultural Center at Laie where the crafts and cultures of the various Polynesian tribes were kept alive.

  The third week began much the same as the first two. The tradewinds dominated the weather picture and the skies remained clear. Invariably there was a small shower or two some time during each day, often when the sun was out. Liquid sunshine, it was called by the natives. Generally it was blown by the winds from rain clouds hooked by the mountain peaks. Julie didn't mind it. To her, it was like walking under a soft spray of warm water.

  On Thursday, she had taken a quick dip in the pool, showered and dried her hair. Over the last two and a half weeks her skin had taken on a golden cast and her hair had lightened a shade. She took a pale green sundress from her closet and slipped it on.

  It was too early yet for dinner, but the weather was too nice to stay indoors, so Julie wandered onto the lanai off her bedroom. She had learned the first week that at the end of the lanai there were stairs leading to the ground. It was perfect for swimming. She never had to track through the house in a wet suit; she could use the outside stairs to her bedroom.

  Now she descended them to wander through the expansive garden surrounding the pool. It was a favorite place of hers, a private tropical paradise lined with palm trees. A massive banyan tree dominated the grounds. To support its spreading growth, the tree sent shoots downward to ultimately form new roots and trunks. As Julie wandered among its pillars, she was glad it wasn't carnivorous.

  An autograph tree carried Debbie's name on one side of its large ovate leaves
. Julie touched the petal of its large white flower shaded with pink. Emily had told her that in the West Indies, the leaves of the autograph tree were marked and used as playing cards.

  The feathery fernlike leaves of the gray-barked jacaranda tree waved gently in the breeze. Violet blue flowers were scattered over its limbs. A magnificent Royal poinciana tree flamed like a scarlet umbrella in the garden. It was rivaled only by the peculiar tiger's claw tree. Bare of leaves, the tips of its branches were painted crimson by its claw-shaped blossoms.

  Closer to the ground were the flowering shrubs. The slender delicate blossoms of the spider lily seemed lost in its clustered spray of long, wide leaves. The yellow blossoms of the plusneria were a favorite choice for leis. The anthurium, which on the mainland was called the frangipani, never seemed real. Its single, circular petal of brilliant red was so shiny, it looked artificial.

  As Julie strolled past a hybrid hibiscus bush that hadn't been in bloom before, she saw a flower had blossomed. The other hibiscus were scarlet or deep pink, but this one was a golden yellow. She cupped it in her hand to draw it down and sniff the fragrance. The stem snapped in her fingers. After a second's hesitation, she tucked it behind her ear.

  The sun was sinking behind the Waianae range. Its lengthening rays cast scarlet pink hues on the puffy white clouds and set fire to the serrated outline of the volcanic peaks. It was a beautiful and quiet display put on by nature. Julie's slow pace brought her closer to the lanai. There was a half-formed thought in her mind to watch the sunset from the Queen-styled wicker chair on the cobblestones.

  "Having a twilight stroll, Miss Lancaster?"

  Julie glanced quickly toward the shadows of the lanai where Ruel's voice had come from, and saw his familiar tall shape leaning against a supporting pillar.

  "Yes, it's a lovely evening," she returned.

  Straightening from the post, he walked leisurely toward her and stopped. The dimming light accented the masculine angles of his features while the slanting rays of the flaming sun enriched the lustrous mahogany sheen of his hair. Dressed in a golden tan sports jacket and navy blue slacks and with his shirt unbuttoned, he looked casually elegant and totally at ease. Strangely, Julie wasn't.

  His gaze centered on the flower behind her right ear. "Are you looking for a lover, Miss Lancaster?"

  Her hand went guiltily to the blossom. "Is that what it means when you wear it on the right side? I accidentally picked it, and it was so pretty, I decided it was a shame to throw it away, so I stuck it in my hair."

  "I have no idea if that's what it means when you wear a flower there," Ruel answered her initial question. "That was simply my first thought. Perhaps because you resemble a golden flower on a pale green stem. Or maybe because when a flower blooms it issues a beguiling fragrance to lure a bee to its center, thus achieving pollination."

  All the time that he was speaking in that low, conversational tone, he never glanced at the flower in her hair. He studied her mouth. Her lips felt dry. She wanted to moisten them, but she sensed it would invite a different kind of pollination. His words had nothing to do with bees and flowers and pollination; they had been an analogy of male and female desire. Her heart seemed to trip over itself trying to find its regular beat.

  "I hope no bee decides to pollinate . . . the flower in my hair." Julie tried to dismiss her sudden tension with a soft laugh and deliberate obtuseness. His mouth quirked at her response, amused in a cynical fashion.

  "Ruel?" Malia called to him from the dining room door to the lanai. "There's a phone call for you."

  "Thank you, Malia, I'll be right in," he answered, never taking his eyes from Julie. "Enjoy your stroll, Miss Lancaster."

  When he had gone, Julie discovered she was trembling. How ridiculous, she scolded herself. Why should she become so disturbed by a little innocent sexual sparring with words? Surely she was more mature than that. But it was several minutes before she had control of her silly nerves. By then it was almost time for dinner.

  Emily Harmon was at the table when she entered through the French doors. A place was set for Ruel, but he wasn't in the room. Julie took her regular chair. Malia entered the dining room and Emily gave her a sharp look.

  "He's still on the telephone, Miss Emily."

  "Go ahead and serve the soup, Malia," Emily ordered.

  The housekeeper served the soup—a delectable bisque. Julie was haft-finished with hers when Ruel came striding into the room. He looked not the least bit upset that he was late, or that they had begun without him.

  "Your soup is getting cold," Emily informed him.

  Instead of walking to his chair at the head of the table, Ruel stopped at his aunt's. "Something has come up. I won't be able to have dinner with you tonight after all."

  Disappointment drooped the corners of the older woman's mouth for an instant, but it was banished quickly by what could only be described as a "stiff upper lip."

  "Why?" she demanded.

  "I have to go into the city." He bent and lightly kissed the woman's forehead. "Don't wait up for me, Em."

  The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled at his aunt. Julie thought she detected an affectionate tone in his voice even as he gently mocked her.

  The woman sniffed in disdain. "I haven't waited up for you in years, Ruel."

  "Good night." It was an all encompassing farewell that Ruel issued as he walked from the room.

  Julie thought it was best not to make any comment about his departure unless Emily mentioned it. Minutes later, the quiet of the evening was broken by the roar of the sports car as it accelerated from the house.

  "Why does he have to drive so fast?" Emily muttered, masking her concern with anger. She caught Julie's glance and added, "I wouldn't have been surprised if Ruel had been in an accident instead of Deborah."

  Julie waited until Malia had taken away the soup dishes, then tried to introduce a different topic. "Deborah mentioned that the cast on her left arm is to be removed next week."

  The conversation became focused on Emily's niece—her schoolwork and health in general. By the end of the meal, Emily seemed more relaxed. Julie had felt the tension that had existed at the start of dinner.

  The strange part was that the tension had seemed to transfer itself to her. She was restless all evening. She tried to watch a documentary on television, but it didn't hold her interest. She knew it would be hopeless trying to concentrate on a book as Emily was doing. She wandered into Debbie's room, but she was on the telephone talking to her boyfriend.

  Finally Julie went to her own room. She wrote a letter to her parents and answered the one from Mrs. Kelly, who loved the muu-muu. For a long time she sat in one of the wicker chairs on her balcony. At half past eleven she got ready for bed even though she wasn't sleepy.

  When she switched off the light and climbed into bed, the luminous dial of the radio clock kept her company. Unwillingly she watched the hours tick away. It was after two o'clock when she heard the sports car quietly drive up. She rolled onto her side and promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter Five

  TIME HAD GONE BY SO swiftly. It seemed impossible to Julie that she had been in Hawaii for more than a month. Still, it was another weekend again—Saturday. She leaned against the balcony railing, enjoying her view of the garden. It was a riot of color—hibiscus, bougainvillea, oleanders, poinciana.

  The sun was well up in the morning sky and the air was warm. Her plans for the day were only half formed—a swim in the pool, for which she was already wearing her orange bikini and beach jacket, breakfast, and a trip to the Kuhuku Sugar Mill. Julie lifted her gaze to the hills where thick stands of pine trees would randomly give way to open meadows.

  As her gaze ran over the climbing hills, it was stopped by the ominous billowing of smoke. She stared for a long, heart-stopping minute. It seemed to be coming from just over the next rise. Julie raced into her bedroom, out the door and down the stairs. As she rounded the corner into the living room where the telepho
ne was, she collided with a rock-solid object. She would have careened off it like a billiard ball, but her upper arms were clamped in a pair of steel vices.

  "Where are you going in such a hurry?" Ruel demanded.

  The collision had knocked the breath out of her. It was a couple of seconds before she could manage to say, "Fire! There's a . . . fire!"

  She became conscious of the well-muscled body inches from hers, aggressively male and sexually disturbing. He smelled clean and fresh with an individual scent that was faintly musky. His mouth was firm, chiseled into his features, presently curved at the corners.

  The amused look was wiped from his mouth as his gaze narrowed. "Where?" His fingers dug into her soft flesh, tightening their grip.

  "Just over the next hill." Julie gulped in a breath. "I saw the smoke from the balcony."

  He hesitated, as if not believing her. "Show me."

  "There isn't time," she protested. "We've got to call the fire department."

  "You show me where it is first," Ruel insisted.

  He kept a firm hold of one of her arms as he propelled her toward the doors of the lower lanai. Julie resisted briefly, looking frantically at the telephone just out of reach, before submitting to his order for the sake of speed. Outside the smoke was plainly visible beyond the fronds of the palm trees.

  "Do you see it?" she pointed.

  "Yes it's coming from our cane field," Ruel identified the fire's location.

  Julie turned back toward the house. "We'd better call the fire department right away," she said decisively.

  Instead of letting her go, Ruel continued his restraint of her arm, and her exasperated look caught the amused slant of his mouth.

  "I said it was the cane field," he repeated.

  "I know what you said," she began.

  "It's being deliberately burned off." He went further in his explanation. "The fire was set on purpose. The men are keeping an eye on it. There's no need to phone the fire department."

  "Oh." Julie stopped trying to pull free of his grip. "I didn't know."