The market was a crowded, bustling place, alive with sound, color and smells in the thick afternoon heat. A lazy breeze only gave bare relief as Ronan strolled through the stalls, smiling and declining politely as vendors offered him fresh fruit and vegetables. He paused to consider leaf bundles of sweet coconut pudding when he was approached by two young boys.
One was short and stocky with a big round face, and looked to be the leader. The second boy was younger but tall and thin. They each carried a handful of woven fans.
“Hey Mister. You want to buy one?” asked the older boy.
“No thanks, I don’t need a fan,” said Ronan. “But I might buy one if you can help me with some information. I’m looking for someone. Maybe you can help me?”
The stocky boy’s eyes lit up with an entrepreneurial gleam. “You’ve come to the right people. We know everyone on the island, don’t we Manu?”
The second boy nodded enthusiastically. “Pili’s right. We know everyone.”
“Great!” Ronan took money from his pocket and handed it over. But Pili only gave it a look of disdain.
“Is that all? It’s a very hot day. Are you sure you don’t want two fans? Or five?”
Manu gave a vigorous demonstration of their fans capabilities, waving two of them at Ronan. “Best fans. Keep you fresh. Keep you cool!”
Ronan took a few more notes out and offered them to Pili. “I’ll buy five fans. Is that enough?”
“For today,” Pili pocketed the money. “So who you looking for?”
“I’m looking for a woman.”
“A woman? Ah!” Pili nudged Manu in the ribs and both boys gave Ronan knowing looks. A wink. “Many pretty women here. What’s her name?”
“I don’t know her name. But she’s tall, about my height. Long black hair. Dark eyes. And strong, you can see the muscles in her arms. She has a tattoo on her forearm. She’s very beautiful. An amazing swimmer. I saw her out in the ocean, and she was swimming…with whales.”
The boys were nodding gleefully with each new descriptor, but as soon as Ronan said the last sentence? Their smiles vanished. They weren’t confident, brazen boys any longer. They just looked scared.
“You sure?” said Pili with a frown. “She was swimming with the whales?”
Manu looked around, fearful, as if afraid someone would overhear them. He tugged on Pili’s arm, whispered, “We go now.”
“Why do you want to find this woman?” asked Pili, ignoring his friend.
Ronan didn’t have an immediate answer. Why did he want to find her? He hesitated, then said, “I have some questions to ask her. About whales.”
Pili lowered his voice, stepped up close to Ronan. “Don’t go looking for Vasa Loloa. Or they will find you.”
Then with that enigmatic warning, the two boys scurried away and melted into the market crowd, leaving Ronan with more questions. And a beautiful collection of woven fans.
He was sitting in a bar, nursing a warm beer, when she confronted him.
“Why are you looking for me?” A curt demand.
He looked up and nearly fell off his chair when he recognized who was standing over him.
“It’s you,” he said. Hating how stupid he sounded, even as he said the words.
“What do you want?” she repeated.
Her dark eyes were stones of unfriendliness and her rigid stance shouted disdain.
“You shot me,” said Ronan.
“And did you die?” she countered. Her voice was a deep, raspy thing. Like a country singer who’s smoked too many cigarettes. Fleetingly he wondered what she would sound like on stage. Playing a guitar and singing a love song.
“I’m Ronan Matiu,” he offered his hand. She looked at it like he had a contagious disease. She didn’t tell him her name. Instead she drew up a chair and sat at his table.
The barkeeper chose that moment to interrupt. He carried a plastic tray with a glass of what looked suspiciously like chocolate milk, which he presented to the abrasive stranger. “Your drink,” he said with a deferential half-bow of his head. At no point did he raise his eyes to meet hers, or even look at her face. She took the glass, and gave the barkeeper an amazing smile. It was a smile that lit up the room with promises of a lilting song and a playful splash of laughter. She smiled, and the glory of the ocean flooded the room. Ronan was stunned. The woman noticed his stare and immediately the smile was gone.
“What?” she snapped before taking a sip of her drink.
“You shot me,” Ronan said again. “I was in hospital.”
She rolled her eyes then. “You were shooting whales.”
“It’s a tracker gun. I’m a marine biologist. We’re not hurting the whales. We’re here to help them.” He wanted, more than anything, for her to know that he was one of the good guys. Yes, he cringed to admit it, he wanted her to be impressed by him.
Her dark eyes flashed with contempt, but she finished drinking her chocolate milk, before replying. “What makes you think we need your help?”
It’s not the answer he had been expecting. He almost didn’t notice her use of ‘we’ when referring to the whales. Almost.
“It’s a Pacific wide project where we survey whale population numbers, and then tag as many of them as possible so we can track where they go, what they’re doing. So we can know what’s decimating their numbers and posing the greatest threats to their survival.”
His words died away as he saw she wasn’t impressed. She was barely even paying attention. The bartender had brought over a plate of food. Again her face lit up with that extraordinary smile and the man bobbed in deference, buzzing visibly with pleasure at her approval.
“Thank you,” she said to the man and then turned to the dish with unrestrained anticipation. Remembering the deeply ingrained codes of hospitality, she paused to offer Ronan some first. “Do you want to eat?” The foreboding look on her face told him that the only acceptable answer would be to say no.
“I’m fine thanks. I ate already,” lied Ronan.
“Afereki makes the best lu sipi and faikakai topai on the island. Tuesday’s are the special. I never miss.”
She ate like how she shot people. With determination and steel focus. Eating was a serious task, one that needed total concentration. Ronan used the distraction to study her, without making it obvious that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her thick brown hair was pulled up into a messy twisted bun, so her face with its strong jawline and deep set eyes was best displayed. Wide mouth, abundant lips, wide nose, she would never blend into a crowd. Not a small woman, she resonated strength and boldness. Broad shouldered, with the easy ripple of muscle in her arms flexing every time she scooped another spoonful into her mouth.
When the food was finished she responded to his lecture on whales. The one he had forgotten all about in the delicious daze of watching her eat.
“You’re the greatest threat to our survival,” she announced. “Don’t need a marine study to tell us that. And you don’t have to shoot us to know what we think. Just ask.”
With that abrupt enigmatic statement, she stood up and walked to the door. The conversation was over.
“Wait!” Ronan sprinted after her, pushing through the crowded bar. Or at least, he tried. He bumped into the doorjamb on his way out and the contact sent a burst of pain through him. “Ouch!” He’d forgotten about his shoulder.
“What is it?” She sounded almost concerned. At least she had stopped walking away and had turned back to where he stood outside the bar.
Ronan winced with his hand on his shoulder. He may have been playing it up a bit, but hey, a guy’s gotta do what he has to… “Argh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. My shoulder. Some complications. Not healed yet.”
She frowned and came in closer. “It’s hurting? Why? It should not be pained this long.” A curt command. “Let me see.”
“Umm excuse me?” Ronan was confused now. “One minute you’re a stone cold killer saying I deserve to be shot up. Now you’re worri
ed about my injury?”
“You went to the hospital?”
He nodded. She made a sound of disgust, like hacking up spit. “They know nothing there. People go to the hospital if they want to die. Show me.”
Ronan looked around. “Here? On the street? You want me to take my shirt off?”
“Nobody cares for what you have, little white man.” She wrinkled her nose like he smelt bad.
Ronan was used to the privilege that his conventionally determined ‘handsome’ looks gave him. Nobody had ever looked at him like he was hideous. Like he was dirty. With a single look, this woman had made him feel incredibly…small. He unbuttoned his shirt and gingerly inched it half off his shoulder.
The woman frowned when she saw the bandage. Eyes narrowed, she leant in to inspect it. Ronan swayed back instinctively as she crossed into his personal space, but she moved even closer so she could bring her face to his shoulder - and sniff him.
Time slowed to one tautly stretched moment. Like the world had taken a deep breath and was poised to exhale. Her hair brushed his face. A whiff of sea salt, a burst of ice water and a hint of some unfamiliar flower. Sweet, sultry and elusive. He could see the curve of her neck, the line of her shoulder and glimpse the pebbled ridge of her spine. Ronan stood captive, not daring to move, as this strange woman leaned in close, so close he could feel the dance of her hair on his skin and drown in the mystery of her fragrance. Touching but not touching. Breathing but not breathing. He was swept back to the first time he ever went out on the open sea. He’d stolen a kayak from the neighbors, thinking it would be fun to paddle out alone to where white tipped waves beckoned with the promise of risk and excitement. An hour later and he was desperately trying to keep the kayak upright as giant waves battered him about like a plaything. He’d never forgotten the immense power of the ocean, and his smallness in the face of its majesty. The swirling water, the sky splayed out above, the whip of the wild wind, the tang of salt. A kind of fierce beauty found nowhere else. He had not been afraid though. Rather, that was the day he had first fallen in love with the sea. Even as she near killed him.
She hadn’t even told him her name, but in that moment Ronan knew he was utterly lost. Swept away by this woman.
It didn’t seem right that such a life-changing encounter should only be experienced by him alone. But the woman was briskly oblivious to Ronan’s epiphany. “Hmmm,” she said in a thoughtful serious tone. “It doesn’t smell bad. But still, it could be early stages of rot. You come with me. I’ll fix it.”
She set off walking up the street, and Ronan followed. Simply because it was clear that she expected him to.
“Where are we going?” he asked, as she took him away from the small town, off the tar seal road, on to a dirt track, and kept walking. Either she didn’t hear him, or she was ignoring him. Ronan would have bet money on the latter. But still he followed. The dirt track brought them to another paved road. This one running parallel with the sea. There were no houses in sight. No people. No cars. And still she kept walking, this time following the coastal road.
Ronan had a thought. What if she’s taking me somewhere far away from anything so she can kill me? But he quickly reminded himself that if she had wanted him dead, then she would have finished him off that day on the beach.
Just when Ronan was ready to tell her that he’d had enough of walking, she ducked through some trees and there it was. A house. Perched by the sea, and nestled in a riotous mass of bushes. It was tiny. More like a bungalow really. She opened the door and Ronan followed her inside.
“This is where you live?” He looked around in the dim light, wanting some insight, anything into this woman who rode on whales and shot men who got in her way.
“Sometimes,” she said. She flicked a light switch and he was disappointed with how little there was to see in the single bedroom unit. A table, chairs, a sofa bed. The only touch of personality was the flowers in a bowl on the bench. A fiery bunch of ruby red ginger and glorious bird of paradise.
“Who lives here with you?”
She ignored the question.
“I will make medicine. Sit,” she said, as she disappeared out a back door.
Ronan didn’t have to wait long. She returned with a handful of leaves, wine red and amber which she proceeded to tear up into a bowl. Next she poured in some coconut oil, chanting a few words in Tongan under her breath as she did so.
“What is that?” he asked as she worked briskly to mix everything together. His every white western Spidey sense was panicked and tingling. What was this strange woman going to do to him with her leaves and spirits?!
“Take off your shirt,” she said, standing in front of him, ready with the bowl. He had to admit it did smell nice. Not dangerous or suspicious at all. When a beautiful but slightly scary woman tells you to take your shirt off? What do you do?
Ronan unbuttoned his shirt and carefully eased it down and off, feeling very exposed and vulnerable. He winced as she peeled his bandage off. Her eyes narrowed as she peered closer at the wound.
“Why did they stitch it closed?”
“Umm, I don’t know. I was out cold. Y’know, because you shot me?”
His dig went unnoticed as she frowned at his shoulder, bringing her hands up to trace the stitches. He braced himself for roughness, for pain, because there didn’t seem to be any gentleness to this woman. But her touch was feather soft, dancing along his shoulder and upper chest as she traced the wound.
“It looks painful.” Her voice dropped, so low that Ronan almost missed it. “Perhaps…”
The words trailed away and he imagined she said, “I shouldn’t have shot you…”
“Wait, what was that? Did you just say something? You want to repeat that, a little louder maybe?”
“I said nothing.” She pressed lightly on the wound and frowned at the seep of red-yellow fluid.
“They shouldn’t have sewn it closed. Better to let the body breathe and heal on its own. I will open it.”
“You’re gonna do what?” asked Ronan.
She took out a small knife – wait where did that come from?! One sharp flick and the tightness in his shoulder released. By the time he said, “Ouch!” it was finished. She made a face at him.
“That didn’t hurt. You’re like a big baby.”
“You caught me off guard,” he protested. “That was me being surprised. Go on, cut me again. See how immovable I can be.” He tapped at his chest. On the good side. And discreetly flexed his muscles. “Go on. Don’t hold back. You already shot me.”
She shook her head at him and went to get the bowl of leaves. But not before Ronan caught a glimpse of her fighting the barest of smiles. It was only fleeting, barely even there, but it gave him hope.
“This is special leaves and coconut oil. With turmeric root. We place it on the wound like this, and then you must keep your shoulder still. Didn’t the doctor tell you to rest?”
“Maybe. But I had things to do.”
Ronan tensed as she applied the mixture to his wound, but he needn’t have worried. She worked slowly, with a gentle touch. It was soothing. And it gave him the opportunity to sneak stare at her again.
“Like looking everywhere on the island for me? Bothering small children at the market?” She confronted him, hands on her hips. “Was finding and punishing the woman who shot you more important than your healing? Foolish man.”
“What? No! Who said anything about punishment? That’s not why I’ve been looking for you,” argued Ronan. He tried to stand but she pushed him back onto the seat.
“No. Sit. I told you. Wait for the bandage to dry and seal to the wound. You will ruin my work.”
She started cleaning up the table, taking the bowl to the sink, rinsing all the utensils. Over her shoulder she asked, “So why have you been looking for me? If not to punish me, then what?”
“Because…” Suddenly Ronan was stumped. Because he didn’t know why he’d been hunting for her. Why his every waking thought had be
en about her. What was he going to tell her? ‘Oh I wanted to find you because I keep dreaming about you? Because I think about you all the time and it’s driving me nuts?’ “Because I knew you’d want to apologize.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Apologize?”
“Yes. I’m sure you’ve been feeling awful about shooting me. Over a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding. That’s what you call it?” she said.
“Yes,” said Ronan, warming to his theme. “You made a mistake, an error in judgement and you regret it. Especially now that you’ve seen the damage.” He put on a pained-but-nobly-trying-to-be-strong expression.
He was rewarded with a flash of an almost-smile. That elusive ocean sprite that flitted away before it even arrived. But it was enough. He grinned, exultant that yes, he had ALMOST made her smile. He pushed while he still had an advantage, no matter how small.
“And to ask you, what were you doing that day?”
The barrier was back as she glared at him from across the table. “What do you mean?”
“You were swimming with the whales and then I saw you on its back. You were riding on the whale.” He still didn’t quite believe what he had seen, wondered if it was a fanciful imagining. He wanted her to scoff and tell him it wasn’t true, that of course she hadn’t been sitting on the back of a whale. Because who the hell does that?
She shook her head. “It’s no one’s business if I was. Least of all yours.”
“So you were riding on that whale? How did you do that? How is that even possible? Those creatures are massive. They could crush you. Do you know how much they weigh?”
A look of disgust. “Typical. You’re telling ME about whales? You know nothing. You say you want to save us? But you can’t save what you don’t understand. And how can you protect us from extinction when you are the greatest threat to us?” She made that hawking spit sound in her throat, stood and nodded at the door. “You go now.”
“No wait, I’m sorry. You’re right, I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m a visitor here and I shouldn’t presume to understand more about the whale population than the people who actually live here.” He held out his hands in supplication. “I’m a mansplainer of oceanic proportions. Can you forgive me? Please?”
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