What had motivated Willow to trade in her bikini and surfboard for an indoor job? I wondered. Not that I was sure what that job might be.
“What do you do?”
“She’s a yoga instructor and personal trainer in the spa,” Mick interrupted, answering for her. Willow didn’t seem to mind, perhaps because she did the same thing a moment later.
“Mick is with the activities department. He teaches swimming, surfing, and other watersports.”
“Marco!” Mick shouted.
“Polo!” Brien responded without a moment’s hesitation to Mick’s chant from that kids’ game. The two dudes took off, heading into the lobby toward the check-in desk.
“Check-in will be quick, since all you have to do is prove you’re you,” Big Al said, stepping quickly to keep pace with Brien and Mick. “Once you settle in, you’re invited to come and check out the new CCTV system we’ve installed. State of the art!”
“Wow! Closed Circuit TV is an awesome boost to your security measures here at the hotel. I’d love to see it.”
“Thanks for suggesting we consult with Peter March. He was a great help in determining what we need. It’s improved our ability to have eyes on public spaces throughout the resort…” There was more, but Willow interrupted, and I quit eavesdropping on Brien's conversation. What she said next stopped me in my tracks.
“Um, I have more news for you. Mick and I don’t just work together, we’ve moved into an apartment. We’re engaged. See?” She fluttered the fingers on her left hand. A small diamond solitaire sparkled as she did that. I was too stunned to say much. I managed to get the word “congratulations” to pass my lips, but couldn’t entirely squelch the questioning tone that went with it. Willow got it.
“I know. Tough to believe, isn’t it? A heart of gold beats in that beach bum’s chest, Kim. Wait until we get you out in the surf. Mick never burns anyone anymore. You’ll see.” By that, she meant that Mick didn’t drop in on anyone and steal a wave out of turn. I would indeed have to see it to believe it. Willow apparently wasn’t holding her breath, waiting for me to affirm her claims about Mick being a changed man. She spoke again and moved toward the resort entrance.
“Two peas from the same pod,” she said nodding her head toward Brien and Mick. I hoped not. It helped that Willow had such faith in Mick, but no way was I ready to buy the idea that he and Brien were “Bros” in the way Willow suggested. I must admit, there was an uncanny resemblance between them when it came to their attire. Brien’s aloha shirt bore no embroidered resort emblem and sported surfboards instead of scenes of the resort, its amenities, and the gorgeous cove. Otherwise, they had dressed alike, right down to their navy boardshorts and Rainbow flip-flops. Mick was about the same height as Brien, but no match for him in the brawn department. I heard the word “brewski” and couldn’t quite make out which of the two peas had uttered it. There was a similarity in their voices too.
“Tell me how all this happened, Willow. It hasn’t even been three months since we left Corsario Cove. I had a feeling that Mick was stuck on you, but you didn’t seem too interested in him.”
“I was out of it. Opie’s death was a blow even though we had ended our relationship before Mick kicked him out of Sanctuary Grove and he managed to get himself thrown off a hotel balcony. I’ve known Mick a long time. We were friends even though he could be a real pain in the neck. He’s not great with people—especially women. I’m not sure, until recently, that he grew up and left that pulling pigtails phase behind him. Surf culture is hardcore male, too. I broke through that a while back with my skills on the board. Maybe that changed the way he saw me—more than a beach bunny, you know?”
I nodded my head. I did know. We chatted a bit more as I tried to imagine Mick as the man she believed him to be. Thoughts about Mick fled as we stepped into the lobby. I stopped, gob-smacked by the views, borrowing another word from Brien. This one not surf lingo but picked up from a wealthy Brit he and Peter had escorted around the Coachella Valley. Pocket doors had been opened to expose a large tile portico with high arches reflecting the Spanish or Moorish influence found throughout the resort.
Columns strategically placed to bear the weight of the roof without intruding on the view supported those grand arches. From where we stood at the top of a hillside on which the hotel and spa sat, the resort sprawled out down the hillside. Rolling golf greens stretched out toward the sandy beach and sea beyond. Cart paths snaked in and around recreational areas on terraced levels cut into the sloping hillside. Splashes of magenta bougainvillea stood out against the walls they graced.
To our right was the marina filled with boats of various sizes. People strolled along the boardwalk, lounged on the beach or poolside. Golf carts whizzed by, a few driven by staff members dressed as pirates. Corsairs had replaced all the Santas that roamed the grounds during the Christmas holiday season. They scurried about to serve guests lounging poolside on terraces below.
Their pirate dress was not as flamboyant as that worn by Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack. In fact, the outfits looked more like those Han Solo had worn in Star Wars movies. They wore dark brown vests over white shirts with black pants and boot covers over their shoes. Red bandanas around their heads and red ties at the waist added to the pirate effect, as did a big dangling gold earring or an eyepatch worn by some.
Off to the left were those dark cliffs that had hidden so many secrets and given up treasure already. A shiver of something between anticipation and suspense passed through me as my eyes wandered to those cliffs. Willow and I had both met with danger there. The area was still thickly forested. A white bell tower peeking up out of those woods on cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean was the only sign of the Monastery of St. Albinus. Bells tolled, signaling the hour. As my eyes searched near the foot of those cliffs for the entrance to the surfer village, I spotted two colorful surfboards standing upright in the sand.
“Have you given up your shacks in Sanctuary Grove? Is there a new Kahuna?”
“Yes and yes!” Willow laughed. “If you’re up for dinner and drinks once you get settled in, we’ll get you up to speed on what’s gone on since you left.” Willow stopped as we arrived at the little seating area where Brien and I would check in. I stole a glance at Brien.
Gob-smacked too, I presumed. Brien's gaze was fixed on that view of the blue Pacific Ocean as tantalizing waves rolled onto the shore. His body leaned a bit as though pulled by the tides or the urge to surf. What stunned me was the fact that I felt a pull too! I hoped I’d taken a few of the workouts with Brien seriously enough to handle the board and surf better. I could hardly wait to give my new hobby a try.
A slight commotion at the gleaming front desk off to our right made me realize how busy it was this afternoon. Brien must have noticed, too. He caught my eye and moved toward the comfy chairs where a woman sat waiting for us. Big Al, Mick, and several other aloha-shirted staff members moved with him.
“Dinner sounds great unless Brien’s being inducted into the Surfer Sleuth’s Hall of Fame or something like that tonight.” Willow laughed again as she hung our garment bag on a luggage rack a bellhop wheeled up next to us. It was loaded down with our other bags and our surfboards.
“I’m sure if there were plans like that, Mick would have told me about them. From what I understand, everyone wants to take it easy on you—especially your first day or two. Your visit is supposed to be a second honeymoon, for goodness’ sake!”
“Let’s plan on dinner. Brien’s going to be starving once we unpack. I already heard the ‘brewski’ word being tossed about by the ‘bros.’ When are you off work?”
“We’re both done at six today. Want to meet at the Sanctuary Grill, say sixish?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“I’m glad.” Then she lowered her voice. “There are reasons why I didn’t want to stay in Sanctuary Grove. Mick thinks I’m overreacting because of all we went through at Christmas time.”
“Overreacting to what?”
“Nothing major. Nothing terrifying. More like mysterious and a little creepy.”
A shiver ran through me. Before I could ask Willow to explain, Brien had his arms around me. That shiver was replaced by a flood of comfort and warmth as he clinched me in those strong arms of his.
“Yo, Kim, you ready to have a seat for check-in? We don’t want to hold up anyone, do we?”
“Aw, Moondoggie, you’re such a thoughtful guy.” I turned around and gave him a little smooch. “A hold up wouldn’t be a nice way to start out our spring break, would it?”
Brien blinked a couple of times. “That’s not what I meant…” He stopped speaking, and a smile spread across his face. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?” With that, Brien lifted me right up off the floor. “Tell me the truth.”
“Yes, yes. Put me down, please?” I laughed and braced myself by putting a hand on each bulging bicep. When he hesitated a moment longer, I kicked my feet. People were staring. I suddenly felt like we were on the cover of one of those romance novels, except for the fact that Brien still had his shirt on.
Brien pulled me close and slowly lowered me to the floor. With my feet barely touching the ground, he gave me a kiss that buckled my knees. I grabbed hold of him to steady myself. That got him a round of applause from his buddies.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Big Al chortled. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“S’later, dudes!” Brien still hadn’t let me go, thank goodness. As he said that, he slung the hair out of those big brown eyes that held me in his gaze. Another round of knee-buckling threatened to take hold.
Cowabunga! This marriage adventure just keeps getting better and better, I thought. As his coworkers drifted away, they shouted their goodbyes. Despite feeling a bit embarrassed by the public display of affection, I could not stop smiling at the dude of my dreams. Riding beside him on the surf wasn’t quite the same as trotting off into the sunset astride a white stallion, but it would do. Trust Mick to intrude on my girlie fantasy.
“We’ll catch up with you in a while, Brah. Willow says we’re going for some grindage at the Grill. Burgers and brewskis, Man! They have an epic new burger that you are going to love!”
“That’s cool, Mick. You look great, Willow. Mick’s looking way less bogus than he did. I can’t wait to hear what’s up now that you two have become a couple of squares like us.”
“Hey, you started him on his new path. You and Kim bought him those new clothes while you were here before. He’s gone from dude to duded up since then.”
“It must be true that the clothes make the man,” I mumbled.
“Make the man do what?” Brien asked.
“Oh, never mind. It’s just a figure of speech.” Mick jumped into the conversation.
“You have more figures of speech than anyone I’ve ever met before. You can explain it at dinner. I'm sure Willow’s dying to tell you about the Menehune of Sanctuary Grove.”
“The what?” I asked.
“Little people that hide in the forest come out when it’s dark to build stuff or go cliff-diving, so you hear them splashing at night.”
“I never said they were little people, Mick. In fact, they have regular sized feet judging by their footprints. They seem more inclined to trash stuff than to build it, although I did hear splashing sounds in addition to pounding. Pilferers, too, so if they’re little people, they’re more like the Borrowers in that kid’s book than the Hawaiian Menehune.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” Brien said.
I sure can, I thought. The more Willow said, the more anxious I grew. Despite Mick’s mocking tone, I trusted Willow. If she sensed something was off in Sanctuary Grove, I believed her. I doubt it had anything to do with Menehune or any other fairytale creatures.
4 A Monk’s Plea
As we rode the elevator up to our suite on the 6th floor, Brien remained quiet. I experienced a rush of mixed feelings from memories of the previous trips we had taken in elevators at The Sanctuary Resort & Spa. Anticipation and anxiety fled through me. More suspense than when we had first arrived at the fabulous resort in December for our honeymoon. We weren't naïve honeymooners this time around. The mysterious reappearance of the GPS device and that cryptic note from Brother Thaddeus nagged at me. Maybe Brien was going through something similar.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. It feels weird to be back here. Nice to see everyone but, uh, I have this pressure on me. Like it feels in the water when you dive down deep.”
“Under the circumstances, feeling some pressure's normal, I guess. I'm feeling it too. We have a big decision to make about taking new jobs and moving. Brother Thaddeus has me stressed out about what's going on up at the monastery—whatever that is. Not to mention the possibility that Willow’s gone off her rocker or there’s creepy stuff going on in Sanctuary Grove."
“Mick seems strange, too. He's the same but different. Maybe it’s what you said about the clothes making him a man.” Brien shrugged.
“A new man, I hope, Brien. For Willow’s sake. She deserves a non-loser in her life, don’t you think?” Willow’s track record with men hadn’t been great so far. Owen Taylor came close to getting her killed.
“That’s for sure.” The elevator pinged and we stepped out into the hall that led to our suite. A bellhop was already standing outside our door.
“Hope you weren't waiting long,” I said as I rushed to meet him. Brien beat me to the door and slid the keycard in to open the door. At least we were in another wing of the hotel this time, but the suite was much the same as the one we had occupied previously. In other words, fabulously extravagant or to quote Brien:
“This is sick!”
Sick as in good beyond belief. He tipped the bellhop who had stowed our luggage in the large walk-in closet in our master suite. When the door closed behind him, Brien grabbed a basket of fruit and other goodies the hotel had left for us on the coffee table in the sitting room and strode out to the veranda.
“Let’s check out those smokin’ sets and have a snack. I’m starving. Then we’ll unpack, okay?”
“Why not?” Watching waves roll up onto the beach would make this visit seem more like a real vacation. Why not pretend that's what was going on at least for a few minutes? What was it if it wasn’t a real vacation? I couldn’t even say.
“I’m pooped,” I said as I slumped down onto a chaise lounge next to Brien. We had left the desert at the crack of dawn to get here for an afternoon check-in. Brien had driven most of the way, but I’d taken a turn behind the wheel too. I was no longer used to the traffic we’d encountered early on. The string of small towns from Palm Springs to Indio is laid back compared to LA and the sprawling megalopolis in the surrounding county. It wasn’t until we passed Santa Barbara on the Pacific Coast Highway that traffic eased up.
"Sitting here sure beats unpacking," I said putting my feet up and staring at the ocean. Ocean breezes ruffled Brien's blond hair as he popped smoked almonds into his mouth, one after another. Dark glasses covered his eyes, but I imagined them to be filled with contentment and anticipation as he watched surfers riding the waves. From this distance, they were little more than black silhouetted figures set against the glow of the afternoon sun.
“See anybody you know?”
“I can’t tell for sure from here. That goofy-footed guy could be Snaggy.”
By goofy-footed, Brien means the guy has a stance on the surfboard with his right foot forward. Like me. I’m goofy-footed rather than regular-footed like Brien and most surfers.
“Who knows if Snaggy’s even around anymore, Kim. No Menehune, if that’s what you’re asking.” He turned his head toward me and tossed me an almond. I reacted quicker than I imagined I could and caught it using both hands. “You’re not worried about them, are you? You don’t believe in little people, do you?”
“No. Of course not. In fact, I don’t believe a word Mick says one way or the other about what’s going on down in Boardertown. Wi
llow’s another matter.”
“I hear you. Whatever Mick says, he’s not living there anymore, is he? He’s making a play to straighten his life out for Willow, but I doubt the dude would walk away without more of a fight unless he’s convinced there’s something bogus going on in his little corner of surfer paradise.”
“Maybe we can get a better picture of what that is at dinner. You believe Mick’s that serious about Willow? Does she stand a chance that Mick's better boyfriend material than Opie?”
“Mick’s a dork. No doubt about it. Dorks are like frogs, though—kiss ‘em and they turn into princes.” Brien smiled. “If it’s the right woman, of course. Look at me! Cut him some slack. Trust Willow.”
“Okay, my prince. Not that I ever considered you a dork.”
“Sure, you did. You’re not dumb. I was a dork. I didn’t know any better until Bernadette and Jessica and Peter and you went to work on me. Mick’s older than us, body-wise, but his mind has some catching up to do.”
“I’ll try to remember that oh wise one. Willow says there’s a new Kahuna in Boardertown. Did Mick tell you about that?”
“He did. There’s some old guy down there who took off for a while but turned up again after the New Year. When Mick decided to move out of his shack, he gave it to Bede.”
“Bede? As in beady-eyed? That’s an odd name.”
“Uh, it's not spelled the same way B-E-D-E. And it's not that strange a name for surfers.”
“True. Snaggy’s an even weirder name. Opie and Tony O aren’t ordinary, either. Point taken.”
“We had all sorts of people with unusual names pass through my parents’ commune. Lots of surfers. I guess I’m used to it. He’s not the famous Bede by the way.”
“Famous Bede?”
Heinous Habits! Page 3