with thick floral cushions.
A koa-wood kitchen and eating nook was on the left side of the main room, with a comfortable
living room on the right side. A good-sized TV delighted the boys, who immediately
ran through the house yelling, “Dibs!”
He went to the set of glass sliding doors that faced the bay. Beyond the grassy yard
lay Hanalei Bay. He remembered the last time he and Kate had been here. Take me to bed, Johnny Ryan. I’ll make it worth your while …
Wills bumped into him hard. “We’re hungry, Dad.” Lucas skidded up beside them. “Starving.”
Of course. It was almost nine P.M. at home. How had he forgotten that his kids needed dinner? “Right. We’ll go to a
bar that your mom and I love.”
Lucas giggled. “We can’t go in a bar, Dad.”
He ruffled Lucas’s hair. “Not in Washington, maybe, but here it’s A-okay.”
“That’s so cool,” Wills said.
Johnny heard Marah in the kitchen behind him, putting groceries away. That seemed
like a good sign. He hadn’t had to beg or threaten her.
It took them less than thirty minutes to put their things away, claim their rooms,
and change into shorts and T-shirts; then they walked along the quiet street to a
ramshackle old wooden building near the center of town. The Tahiti Nui.
Kate had loved the retro Polynesian kitsch of the place, which was more than just
a décor here. Rumor was that the interior had looked the same for more than forty
years.
Inside the bar, which was filled with tourists and locals—easily separated by their
dress—they found a small bamboo table near the “stage”—a three-foot-by-four-foot flat
area with two stools and a pair of stand-up microphones.
“This is great !” Lucas said, bouncing on his seat so hard Johnny worried that he might fall through
and hit the floor. Normally Johnny would have said something, tried to tame the boys,
but their enthusiasm was exactly why they’d come here, so he nursed his Corona and
said nothing. The tired-looking waitress had just delivered their pizza when the band—two
Hawaiians with guitars—showed up. Their first song was Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s iconic
ukulele version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
Johnny felt Kate materialize on the bench seat beside him, singing quietly in her
off-key voice, leaning against him, but when he turned, all he saw was Marah, frowning
at him.
“What? I wasn’t texting.”
He didn’t know what to say.
“Whatever,” Marah said, but she looked disappointed.
Another song started. When you see Hanalei by moonlight …
A beautiful woman with sun-bleached blond hair and a bright smile went to the minuscule
stage and danced a hula to the song. When the music stopped, she came over to their
table. “I remember you,” she said to Johnny. “Your wife wanted hula lessons the last
time she was here.”
Wills stared at the woman. “She’s dead.”
“Oh,” the woman said. “I’m sorry.”
God, but he was tired of those words. “It would mean a lot to her that you remembered,”
Johnny said tiredly.
“She had a beautiful smile,” the woman said.
Johnny nodded.
“Well.” She patted his shoulder as if they were friends. “I hope the island helps
you. It can if you let it. Aloha.”
Later, as they walked home in the fading light, the boys were so tired they started
fighting. Johnny was too weary to care. In the house, he helped them get ready for
bed and tucked them in, kissing them each good night.
“Dad?” Wills said sleepily. “Can we go in the water tomorrow?”
“Course, Conqueror. That’s why we’re here.”
“I’ll go in first, I bet. Luke’s a chicken.”
“Am not.”
Johnny kissed them again and stood up. Pushing a hand through his hair and sighing,
he walked through the house, looking for his daughter. He found her on the lanai,
sitting in a beach chair. Moonlight bathed the bay. The air smelled of salt and sea
and plumeria. Heady and
Shauna Rice-Schober[thriller]