Mistwalker by Terri Farley Read Free Book Online Page A

The sun lines in Jonah’s face turned downward as he laid his hands on her shoulders. “Your Hawaiian heart will always want to fly home.”
    Darby swallowed hard. Afraid she might cry if she tried to answer, she nodded over and over again until Jonah winked at her.
    He left and she looked after him, but she was in such a hurry to get ready for the celebration, it washalf an hour later, as she was blow-drying her hair, that Darby wondered why Jonah would have that pretty necklace just rattling around in a drawer.
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    Sugar Sands Cove Resort was crowded with cars.
    Darby’s friend Ann Potter waved as her father motioned Coach Roffmore into a parking space ahead of him. Miss Day swooped her bright yellow Volkswagen into a spot the coach had just given up on, and Jonah muttered in thanks when a hotel employee pointed out a place Aunt Babe had blocked off for Jonah, Cathy, Cade, Megan, and Darby.
    â€œMy guests of honor,” Babe called. Her steps were rushed, and the rustling crush of a long white taffeta dress banded at the waist with a sash that matched her mango lipstick announced with every move that she was the hostess.
    After Babe kissed all ten of their cheeks, she complimented her brother’s paniolo finery and said, “You won’t be sorry about those horses.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” Jonah grumbled, but he kissed her cheeks in return.
    Darby felt her eyes grow wide. That must mean Jonah had accepted Aunt Babe’s gift of cremello horses, as an incentive to allow her guests to ride on ‘Iolani Ranch. Guest riders would mean more money, but she had trouble picturing Jonah as a gracious host.
    Aunt Babe escorted them into the hotel instead of allowing them to head toward the corral full of cremello horses, where a small stage had been erected.
    Inside, there were white floors, mirrored walls, and transparent modern lamps filled with candles. Hotel guests twittered like excited birds, talking to reporters and each other as they savored the tropical perfumes of frangipani, ginger, and upright floral spears called birds-of-paradise.
    â€œWatch your step.” Aunt Babe pointed at cords snaking across the lobby floor. “We’ve got press everywhere.”
    Darby gazed after Aunty Cathy and Jonah as they stopped to talk to Kimo and an older man with sun-pleated skin and white hair. He must be Kimo’s dad, Darby thought. Neck loaded with maile leis, he grinned and spoke in rapid-fire pidgin.
    As he gestured, Darby noticed he was missing a finger. Was it really from a roping accident? Jonah and Kimo had told her, but Darby’s head was spinning and she couldn’t remember.
    Deserted by her mother, Megan looked a little nervous, and that made Darby even more uneasy.
    â€œWe don’t have to talk, do we?” Megan asked Aunt Babe. “We’ll just sit in the crowd, the audience or whatever, with everyone else, then—”
    â€œThe chairs on the stage are for you,” Aunt Babe explained.
    â€œSo, we’ll just sit there and stand when you read off our names, but you’ll do the talking?” Darby crossed all her fingers.
    â€œOh, no.” Aunt Babe wagged a manicured nail. “This is small-town excitement at its best. But fun and wonderful publicity. Word’s traveled about you brave kids, and the phone’s still ringing. You three are going to sing for your supper.”
    â€œI can’t sing,” Cade insisted, shoving his hands into his pockets.
    â€œIt’s just an expression,” Darby told him. It would be rude to guess that Babe was reminding them publicity for the resort had been part of the agreement when they’d begun searching for the lost colt. Still, she turned to her great-aunt and said, “But if you really meant that, I’d skip supper.”
    Maybe Megan remembered she was the oldest, and, seeing there was no way out of this, she asked, “What do you want us to do?”
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