by Toby Neal
“Hmm. Sounds serious.” Adam controlled the anger Diego’s tale had summoned—dragged off in the middle of the night to her boyfriend’s? Cherisse had sunk to a new low. “I wonder if Nannie and Papa meant for your mom to just take you away like that. I better give them a call and let them know where you are.”
Smiles of relief appeared on both the kids’ faces. Adam could guess what had gone on and that the grandparents had never meant them to be caught in the crossfire of a confrontation with their daughter. He took his phone out and called the last number he had for his ex’s parents.
Josiah picked up right away. “Hello?”
“Hey, Papa Josiah. This is Adam.”
“Adam! Do you know where she took the children?” The frantic note in Josiah Vierra’s voice carried through the phone loud and clear.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m calling about. The kids are here with me. She left a note, but I haven’t had time to read it.”
“Let me speak to them. Please.” The old man’s voice was still rough with concern, and Adam handed the phone to Diego. Maybe this was a good time to read the note Cherisse had left. Still carrying Serena, he retraced his steps through the house to the front door and retrieved the note.
“Got to see what your mommy has to tell me.” He sat with Serena on one of the rocking chairs on the front porch and opened the envelope, unfolding the paper. Six months ago, when he’d last seen Serena, she’d just been learning to read and would have tried to sound out anything he put in front of her. Now she turned away and buried her face in his neck again.
Adam: I have to have some time to figure some things out, get on my feet again. You said you wanted the kids. Well, here they are. I hope I will have something set up for them by the time school starts. Here’s my number if you need consent for the doctor or anything. Cherisse.
Cherisse Vierra. She’d captured his heart with her big laugh, sassy smile, and her love of life. He’d felt sorry for her, abandoned by a deadbeat boyfriend with a toddler and a baby. He’d fallen in love with the kids the minute he met them, and tired of waiting for “the one,” he’d married Cherisse after a whirlwind two-month courtship.
“Marry in haste, regret at leisure,” he still remembered his mom saying when the problems began, and it hadn’t taken them long to begin. His mom had also reminded Adam to be a man of his word and that the kids needed him.
He patted Serena’s warm back, feeling the knobs of her spine.
Diego returned to the front porch. “Here. Papa wants to speak to you.” Diego handed him the phone and sat in the other rocker.
“Hey, Papa Josiah.”
“I’m so sorry, Adam. She’s just run off. Got a new boyfriend. I’m ashamed she’s my daughter.”
“Just a minute.” Adam hit the volume button on the phone, turning it down as the old man’s voice came through the receiver. He pried Serena off him, setting her in the rocking chair as he stood up. “Why don’t you kids go grab some of that laulau while I talk business with your grandpa for a little while?”
Adam walked back through the house and into his room, shutting the door for privacy. “I came home from work and the kids were in the yard. She’d just left them there.”
“Well, we’ll come right over and get them. You don’t have to be burdened with this.”
“No, no, please.” Adam sucked a breath to calm panic at the thought of losing the children so soon after he got them back. “I am in a bit of a bind, though. My mother, who would normally be able to watch them while I’m at work, is in the hospital.” More exclamations and explanations. “Tomorrow’s Friday. I’ll call in sick and keep them with me through the weekend; I think it’ll be great for Mama to see them when she gets home from the hospital on Saturday. Then we can work something out next week. But whatever Cherisse told you, I want the kids in my life. I’ve been trying to see them ever since she left.”
“I know.” Josiah sighed heavily. “She said you hit her. And the kids.”
Adam’s heart plummeted even as rage swept over him in a flash of heat. He did Dr. Suzuki breaths until he could answer calmly.
“I hope you believe me when I tell you that’s not true.”
“I didn’t think so, but she was so upset when she first came. That’s why we wouldn’t take your calls. But as time went on, we saw what you must have been dealing with—the drinking. Late hours. All that.”
Adam did a couple more deep breaths. “I never hit her. Never. And I love the kids. I’ve been the best dad I could be to them. I’d just told her the drinking had to stop or we were splitting up. I should have tried harder to adopt the kids before I confronted her, so I could have some parental rights.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re having this talk, and hopefully between us, we can cover what the kids need. The kids love you, and they need theirdad.”
Adam was warmed by Josiah’s words, and they discussed the imminent onset of school. “Cherisse says in her note she plans to pick them up before school starts. I’m hoping she won’t, and they can stay with me at their old school, where they have so many friends. And then come see you guys on the weekends,” Adam said.
A long moment as Papa Josiah digested this, gave a heavy sigh. “Doing it all, taking them to school every day, keeping up with all their sports and meetings—it was really a lot for us, and Cherisse did some of it at least. If we have to do it all this school year ourselves—well, Karen’s health isn’t the best.”
“Then you won’t oppose me if I start some legal proceedings to get guardianship?” Adam’s mind was on overdrive, lining up the steps that he would have to take next. “Maybe we can share that?”
“We’d be okay with that. I don’t want to see Cherisse dragging the kids all over the island, chasing her boyfriend or whatever. Let’s work together to give them a stable home. I’m sorry I ever listened to her lies. In my heart, I knew they weren’t true—but she’s my daughter.”
“It’s okay,” Adam said, even as he felt the hurt of his many calls to the Vierrras’ home, trying to arrange a visit with the kids, only to be hung up on.
He’d just given up too soon.
They said goodbye with an agreement for frequent communication, and Adam started working his phone to call his lawyer. He was deep in conversation about “demonstrating parental abandonment” when a knock came on the door.
“Dad, the laulau is getting cold,” Diego said. “And Serena misses you.”
Adam wrapped up his conversation and headed into the kitchen, sniffing loudly. “Something’s ready for eating, I can tell!”
Much later, the kids fed, bathed, read to, and tucked into bed in his sisters’ old room with its twin bunks, Adam sat down at his computer.
Even with all the drama of the day, he still felt a twinge of excitement—maybe Zoe had replied to his note. He logged into the dating site, ignoring the other messages he’d received and scrolling down until he found her reply.
Adam, I feel so silly for overreacting like that! I apologize for my harsh words. I want to tell you something more—the real reason I was so conflicted meeting you. I’m a journalist, and I’m writing a story about Internet dating. Yes, I’m recently divorced, but I never expected to actually meet anyone I liked on a Crazy Blind Date, and it made me really nervous. So I said what I said because I chickened out of telling you about the article. But I’m telling you up front that, as good as the material is, I don’t intend to include our meeting and the subsequent fiasco in the article. I shouldn’t have tried to write this piece when I was really not ready to date, but I need to finish it. If you’re still interested when I feel ready, I too would like a redo of our meeting. And in the spirit of honesty, the number I gave you was bogus, and so was my profile. Check it again for what I’m really like, if you care to. Again, I’m sorry for all this, and I hope you’ll bear with me until I’m ready to date as my true self, heart scars and all.
She had included her phone number and e-mail address.
Adam sat back, a s
low smile tugging up one side of his mouth. “What a mess,” he said aloud. He scrolled through the changes in her profile. He liked her more than ever. Action flicks? Heart scars? They had a lot in common.
He hunched over the keyboard, his fingers flying.
Chapter 13
Zoe wore an olive-green tank that brought out her eyes, a cute canvas fishing hat, and left her hair flowing down her back to meet Brad Osborn, the man who had responded to meeting her for a beach walk and interview for the article. Her neck felt much better today, and she left the brace off.
She drove to nearby Paia Beach Park and pulled up under the palm trees next to the swath of lawn. The park was well used, with a youth center on one side and a community basketball court on the other—the kind of unpretentious community setting that still heralded paradise, fronted by a curving beach with a sandy bottom ideal for swimming.
Brad approached, an athletic-looking man of medium height with sun-shot blond hair whom she recognized from his profile picture. He had a big, shiny black Lab on a leash,and Sylvester went into hyperactive friendliness. The awkwardness of introducing herself was lost in the drama of untangling the dogs.
“Gorgeous dog, Brad,” Zoe said.
“This is Shamu. Yes, I named her after the famous orca.” Brad had a clean white smile and freckles scattered across his nose. She found herself grinning right back.
“Perfect name for such a beautiful dog. Let’s get them down on the beach where they can play.” They walked across the park and unleashed the dogs under the swishing ironwood trees. Shamu and Sylvester promptly galloped down the sand, frolicking in and out of the mellow turquoise waves breaking on the beach.
“So you like surfing.” Zoe glanced at Brad’s well-defined arms. “I remember that from your profile.”
“Yeah. My favorite break is Hookipa, but Paia Bay breaks pretty nice sometimes. Nothing today.”
“Right. Even I can see that it’s flat. I’d like to learn to surf someday.” They walked along the harder sand near the water, and Shamu showed the origin of her name, leaping into the ocean and barking for Sylvester to follow. Brad threw a tennis ball, and the dog bounded into the water, swimming after the yellow ball.
“I could take you out surfing. There are some great beginner spots on the south side of the island—you know this is the north side, right?”
“I do now. Sounds fun. Let me think about it,” Zoe said as Brad pried the ball out of Shamu’s jaws for another toss.
“So what about this Internet dating article? You said you’re a journalist?”
“Yeah. Independent. This is a story on using the Internet for dating after divorce. It’s for a women’s magazine.”
“So I take it you’re divorced.”
“Yes.”
“Me too. That’s one thing you can talk about—a lot of us trying the Internet thing are divorced.”
“I imagine it varies from site to site. There are a lot of different demographics being marketed to. How long have you been Internet dating?”
“Couple of years.”
“Oh. Wow. Tell me more about that.”
Brad glanced up from petting Shamu, who’d flopped panting on the ground with her new buddy Sylvester plastered to her side. He had bright blue-green eyes set in a fan of attractive sun creases. “I can tell you’re surprised it’s been that long.”
“I guess. I didn’t realize—I thought people dated awhile, found someone to be with, and quit.” Zoe shrugged, embarrassed that he’d read her so easily, embarrassed that she didn’t know more about actual dating patterns.
“You’re thinking I must be a loser. I know that expression.” Brad stood up, a powerful movement, and Zoe was aware of a little tingle somewhere in her midsection. So Adam wasn’t the only guy she could feel some chemistry for. It was reassuring.
“Actually, the opposite is true. I’m too picky.” Brad winked and turned with a snap of his fingers for his dog. Shamu bounded up and trotted beside him as he walked. Zoe dug her notebook out of her pocket and hurried to catch up.
“So, a couple of years. Are you searching for something specific in a relationship that’s made it hard to find someone?”
Brad slanted a glance at her. She felt it on her face like a touch. “I’m looking for a really quality woman. Most of those are either too young, married, or live somewhere other than this island.”
Zoe made a pretend note. “Tell me more about the qualities of this mythical woman.”
“Has her own career and income. Smart. Beautiful. Creative. Fun to be with.” He threw the ball for Shamu, who seemed to have found a second wind, and the Lab hurtled after it. Each word felt like a caress as he said it, and it made her nervous. She hadn’t planned to like Brad or be attracted to him, just to interview him.
That nervousness made her voice a little sharp as she said, “Tell me more about yourself. What makes you worthy of such a paragon?”
“Well. For one thing, I understand the word ‘paragon,’ which, I assure you, doesn’t come up in conversation all that often on Maui. For another, I’m pretty successful and considered fun to be with.”
Zoe eyed his frayed board shorts and plain black tank shirt. He certainly wasn’t advertising that success. “What do you do?”
“I have my own company.” Brad didn’t seem to want to pursue this line of discussion, which was a surprise to her. In her interviewing experience, most men loved to tell how successful they were and why they were a great catch. “Want to hear some dating stories? I’ve been on some doozies.”
“Sure.” Zoe made notes, laughing aloud at some of his experiences. He’d taken a Rastafarian woman to a Sufi dance where “the pakalolo smoke was so thick I got asthma” and had an experience with a woman who practiced “crystal healing” and had tried to adjust his aura with a chunk of amethyst. “I told her purple wasn’t my color. I’m more of a turquoise guy. Goes with my eyes.”
“So it does,” Zoe said, momentarily distracted by those eyes.
He went on. “Then there was the bodybuilder.”
“I met a bodybuilder too! Maybe we met the same person?”
Brad snorted a laugh. “Maybe. I was unsure of gender for a while. Anyway, she enjoyed picking me up and carrying me around.”
“I take it this went beyond a first date.”
“Well. I like adventures, you might say. So, yes, that one went on for a while, but ultimately having a woman with thighs the size of my waist, who could literally crush me, wasn’t really the turn-on we’d both hoped.”
They walked awhile.
“What are you thinking?” Brad asked. They’d reached the jumble of black boulders that marked the end of the beach.
“I was trying to imagine being in bed with someone like that bodybuilder,” Zoe said, startled into truthfulness.
He shook his head. “You don’t really want to know.”
She laughed. Shamu and Sylvester turned at the rocks and ran back the way they’d come. “Should we go back?” Zoe asked.
“No. There’s a secret beach through here I’d like to show you.”
“I didn’t know there was anything more.”
“Oh, there’s more.” His voice was filled with suppressed laughter as he gave her a hand up the sandy incline into a thick stand of ironwood and naupaka trees. Zoe glanced back and called for Sylvester, and the dogs caught up with them.
Brad didn’t let go of her hand as he led her along a sandy path that tracked the edge of the rocks, and she found she liked that. Down another incline, and they were in a tiny, sheltered half-moon beach with a wide, sparkling area of enclosed sea. An old bunker nearby was painted with bright artistic graffiti, and several nude men and women sunned themselves along the private beach. Brad turned to see her reaction, mischief sparkling in his eyes.
“Aha. The local nudie beach I heard about but didn’t know how to find,” Zoe said.
“Want to go in?” Brad peeled off his shirt and his hands went to the waist of his board shorts
.
“You go ahead. That’s a bit much for me on a first date,” Zoe said, turning back up onto the soft path through the trees. She kept up a good pace back to the main beach.
“Zoe.” Brad’s voice was apologetic from behind her. “I was just teasing. Sorry if that seemed a little forward.”
“Well, the nudie beach adventure is definitely going in the article,” Zoe said brightly. Her cheeks felt hot. “Great stuff. Very funny. Thanks for taking the time to let me interview you.”
“Zoe.” He put his hand on her arm. She stopped and turned toward him. His shirt was still off and his physique was hard not to stare at, so she gazed at his eyes—and they really were turquoise. “I’d like to see you again, talk more.”
“Okay,” she heard herself saying. “I walk the dog here a lot. Tomorrow morning work for you? I’ll wear my suit. A swim really would feel good.” A blush swept her face, thinking of swimming with him naked.
“I can move a few things around and make that happen. See you tomorrow, same time.” He walked her to her car, opened the door for her with a courtly little bow. She laughed again as Sylvester hopped in, whining for his friend to follow.
“Sylvester’s smitten.”
“I am too,” Brad said. “See you tomorrow.” He closed her door with a decisive click and walked with Shamu to his car. She pulled out of the parking spot, catching sight of his vehicle. It was a silver BMW Z4, her favorite sports car to drool over. He had the convertible top down, and Shamu sat in the passenger side, looking very smug.
“Nice car,” she muttered, giving a little wave, which he returned. “Pretty successful with your own business, huh? I’m Googling you, Brad Osborn, the minute I get home.”
Zoe’s fingers flew as she added the section on her “date” with Brad Osborn to the article. She described him as “An attractive, self-deprecating dot-com millionaire who wasn’t afraid to bare it all on a first beach walk.” She smiled as she described comparing notes on dating bodybuilders and what he was searching for in a woman and why she was hard to find on Maui. The article was really coming together as she researched statistics on the average time people spent Internet dating (again, statistics varied from site to site, but she lumped them together to come up with an average of six months to two years). It also appeared that, once people were used to online dating, they would return to it when and if they became single again. She called and e-mailed the site administrators of Match.com, eHarmony.com, and OkCupid for current statistics of return customers and dating patterns.