“Thad, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go back. Could we do the hotel bit another day? I am rather tired from that climb and I still have the drive back to the house. Would you mind taking a look at the engine? The car shimmies and shakes something frightful. Twice I had to pull over, it was making so much noise.”
That was something positive he could do. He hoped his relief didn’t show too much. Damn Moss Coleman to hell. “Sure thing. Careful, now, that you don’t trip.”
Thirty minutes later, Thad raised his head from under the hood of the Ford. “I can’t find a thing wrong. I’m no expert, but I’d say the knocking you hear is because the car hasn’t been driven for a long time. It probably needs a complete overhaul, but it should get you back okay. Oil and water are all right. Just take it easy and don’t speed. I don’t think you’ll have a problem.”
“I’m sure I won’t.” Billie reached up on her tiptoes and planted a light kiss on Thad’s cheek. “That’s for being so nice and taking pity on a lonely lady. What a wonderful friend you are to Moss. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She waved airily as she turned the car around and headed back. It wasn’t till she was halfway home that she realized Thad hadn’t said anything about taking her out for the next two days. She shrugged. It was a lot to ask of anyone. Why would he want to spend his free time taking a married woman around the island?
She would have to make up her mind to amuse herself. Then when Moss did get back it would be twice as good.
The rusty Ford seemed to be working out its kinks as Billie drove along the mountain range. Jessica was going to be so enthralled when she sat down to tell her about her visit to Hawaii. Jess would want to know the “exact” of everything. The exact shade of the hibiscus, the exact feel of the velvety lawn, and how it could be so soft when it was so near the ocean. She made a mental note to find out. Jessica would want to know about Diamond Head and all about the climb and the breathtaking view. And she would certainly want specifics on Moss’s friend, Thad. It would be the Pacific with its glorious colors that Billie was going to have difficulty describing. How did one describe one of God’s greater perfections? The foaming curling whitewater and the fifteen-foot waves. “Breathtaking” was the best she could come up with at the moment.
Someday she would tell Maggie about this wondrous trip, too. She would save all her mementoes and bring them out to show the little girl, when she was old enough to understand.
The iron gates and the ancient banyan tree came into view. Billie climbed from the car and opened the monstrous gates to the estate. She drove the car through and then secured the gates for the night. Again, as she walked around to the back of the house, she was assaulted with the scent of the ever-blooming plumeria. But she was getting used to it. It reminded her of honeysuckle, back in Philadelphia, but was sweeter, more heady somehow. And much more beautiful. Night-blooming cereus dotted the walkway down to the beach. Billie tossed her bag on the coral and slipped off her shoes. She walked carefully, not wanting to cut her feet. The warm trade winds were almost as gentle as her touch with little Maggie. Tears burned her eyes and she dabbed at them furiously, ashamed of herself. Maggie was being cared for by an expert nurse and didn’t miss her. Jess showered her with love on the two short visits she was allotted each day. But she shouldn’t be thinking of Maggie and Jess. Texas was practically half a world away. She could almost hear Seth’s repeated reminder ringing in her ears that she wasn’t to bother her head about such things.
Billie sat on the beach and stayed for a long time, her thoughts everywhere and nowhere. She stared out across the ocean and wondered if it met the Atlantic at some point. In her wildest dreams she never thought she would be sitting on a private beach in Hawaii. Alone.
The trade winds died down. She’d been hardly aware of the shift from the southwest. A niggling worm of thought attacked her mind. Pregnancy. The thought of Maggie had prompted it, she was sure. She was healthy, fit. On her last visit, the doctor had given her a clean bill of health and patted her on the back. However, he had also repeated that it would not be wise to contemplate pregnancy again. He had told her in his gentle manner that he had felt duty bound to inform Seth and her mother of her condition. Condition? she had queried. But stubbornly the doctor had only kept repeating his warning: she had a child now, why endanger her health again? She had listened solemnly, not overly concerned at the time. Moss was so far away. By the time she saw him again, whatever was wrong would certainly have mended. Women had babies every day of the week. She was young, healthy, and fit as a fiddle. Those were the doctor’s exact words.
Moss had taken no precautions and she hadn’t cared at the time. Did she care now? Moss had taken it for granted that things were all right. How could she tell him that she was less than perfect? Babies were a part of marriage. She couldn’t tell him. Wouldn’t tell him. In the whole world she wanted nothing more than to be perfect for her dashing young husband. She would take her chances.
Billie’s teeth chattered with another abrupt change in the wind. Kona winds, bringing humidity and rain. It was late. She should be getting back to the house. She needed a shower to wash off the salt spray. Or maybe a long hot soak with some of the scandalous bath oil Agnes had insisted she buy. Then she might try out the piano in the living room. It had been so long since she’d played. It would soothe her so that she could fall asleep in quick order. She wondered what Moss was doing. She wondered if he ached for her the way she ached for him.
Billie contented herself over the next two and a half days by learning a few Hawaiian words, with Phillip’s help. She learned that kamaaina meant “longtime island resident” and referred to Ester Kamali. Mahalo meant “thank you.” Ono meant “tastes good!” (She said that over and over as she devoured twelve mangoes!) Wahine was “woman” and wikiwiki was “to do something quickly.” Before the servant walked back to his quarters, he told her she was nani, which meant “beautiful.” Billie smiled. The words weren’t all that difficult to pronounce and sounded so lovely. When Moss arrived she would show him what she’d learned and practice on him.
Moss drove the Jeep carefully up the hill road, already anticipating the feel of Billie in his arms. She’d be there, waiting for him, ready for him. He smiled, biting down on the slim, ivory-tipped cigarillos he’d come to favor. He had deserved being restricted to base, he knew, but it had been rough duty when he’d tossed and turned all night long, waking to find himself alone instead of lying beside his wife. Damn, a man could get used to the nicer things in life.
Before he’d left the base, it had seemed as if Thad were avoiding him for some reason. He mentally shrugged. Maybe old Thad was more discreet and understanding than he’d thought and hadn’t wanted to intrude on him and Billie. Still, it bothered him somewhat that when he’d suggested Thad keep Billie company, his friend had suddenly been busy with other obligations. Of course, though Billie certainly excited him, she was not exciting to be with. Perhaps that would come later, when she’d had more time to mature. But now, Billie posed no challenge; there was no aura of danger or mystery about her. He supposed most men felt that way about their wives and that was how it should be. A wife was steady and secure, predictable and safe. That was why men didn’t marry girls like Lola, who worked at Holli Loki’s on the other side of the island. Lola was never safe or predictable and she ran around with dangerous men, but Lola was exciting. And she showed him more interesting things than baby pictures of an infant he’d never seen.
Maggie. Now where the hell had Billie come up with that name? One of these days he’d have to ask her. Undoubtedly, she’d tell him it was. after the author of Gone with the Wind, Billie’s favorite book. Christ, there was no figuring women! Seth probably wouldn’t have cared if Billie had named the baby Pepsi-Cola. Pap had no trouble keeping his priorities straight and the hoped-for grandson was most likely the only reason the old man had moved heaven and earth to send Billie to Hawaii. Pap had done his share and the rest was up to Moss. Making her preg
nant with Riley Seth Coleman would be Moss’s pleasure.
There couldn’t be anything wrong with Billie, could there? She was the picture of health; she positively bloomed with it. Jessica’s letter to Moss, arriving just about the same time as Billie herself, must have been written out of maternal concern. Still, his mother’s words nagged at him. She had said that she’d talked with Dr. Ward one afternoon when he’d looked in on her for one of her headaches. He had warned against another pregnancy for Billie. Now what the hell was that supposed to mean? And if there was any truth to it, why wouldn’t Billie have said something herself?
As he did with everything else that threatened his plans, Moss stowed this puzzle away on the back shelf of his mind. Billie was a big girl now—she was a mother herself—and it was nobody’s damn business but Billie’s and his! Moss began to whistle as the hilltop house came into view. Vaguely, he wondered if his son would have his dark hair.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Thad Kingsley stood just off the runway, smoking a cigarette. It was forbidden, but there wasn’t anyone around of importance to report him. He took a deep drag and then crushed the butt out with the heel of his flight boot. He bent over to pocket the incriminating evidence and then looked overhead. A plane bearing the medical insignia of the Red Cross was about to land. The pilot touched down with ease. Thad felt like clappng. The guy, whoever he was, was loose as a goose.
Medical supplies? Usually they came by land in supply trucks. Curiosity got the better of him and he stood around until the bays opened. Two figures in army fatigues hopped out. The taller of the two advanced to one of the ground crew and held out his manifest. Thad watched as the sailor scratched his head and then shook it. Thad inched a little closer, in time to hear the big corporal say, “We got this delivery for some guy named Coleman, stationed here. Look, don’t give me any of this crap that you don’t know who the guy is. He’s some goddamn admiral, is who he is. If I told you where this stuff came from, you’d know he was an admiral. What say we get the lead out and tell Admiral Coleman his personal Red Cross plane full of food is here.” There was distaste on the man’s face.
“I’m telling you, I know every admiral on this base and we ain’t got no Coleman. We got a Coleman who’s a second looey. You want I should get him?”
“You better get somebody before this stuff goes bad. And get more ice. My orders. say a medical vehicle is to meet this plane and take the contents to . . . an undisclosed destination. This is all bullshit, sailor. Somebody’s screwing around. I just deliver. Go get this Coleman or get that truck, but do something.”
“I don’t have orders to do that,” the sailor complained. “And we don’t have an Admiral Coleman. So, you do whatever the hell you damn please. I go off duty in another three minutes.”
“Where’s this Coleman who’s a second looey hang out? The one who ain’t an admiral.”
“In that building over there. He’s a flight instructor. I’m officially off duty now. No more questions. Solve your own damn problems.”
“Close those goddamn bays till I figure out what the hell to do with this stuff,” the tall man shouted to his partner. “This heat will melt what ice is in there and whose ass do you think will be in a sling then?”
Thad stifled a laugh and turned his head.
“I need this. I really need this,” the corporal grumbled as he loped toward the building. Thad could have told him that Moss had taken his class down to the far end of the airstrip, but he didn’t. This was the best show he’d seen since joining the navy.
Two hours later; every admiral, captain, and commander on the base, it seemed, was on the airstrip to claim the contents of the Red Cross plane. “You got the password, you get the contents,” the belligerent corporal said tartly. “No password, the stuff rots on the plane. You see who signed this manifest?” Thad felt a bubble of laughter rumble in his chest at the awed looks.
Moss Coleman led his weary band of students down the airstrip. His eyes took in the scene and the Red Cross plane. Next to it was a van with the same insignia. He took a deep breath and started to whistle “Deep in the Heart of Texas.”
“That’s good enough for me. Sign here,” the corporal bellowed in Moss’s direction. “If that guy’s an admiral, I’ll eat the entire contents of this plane,” Thad heard him mutter.
Moss signed his name with a flourish. He turned and addressed the assembled brass. “Sirs, you’re all invited to a Texas barbecue at my house in the hills. I’ve taken the liberty of posting a small map and directions on the flight bulletin board.” He favored Thad with a heavy-lidded wink and ordered his flight group to about-face.
“Who the hell is that guy?” demanded a three-star with a forty-five-inch waist.
“Beats the hell out of me,” a commander said shortly. “All I know is I saw the signature on the manifest and I am not about to ask one question. I’m going to the barbecue and that’s all I know. Maybe we’ll all be mentioned in Stars and Stripes if we play our cards right.”
Thad had all he could do to keep a straight face. He walked over to the Red Cross truck, handed the driver a map, and bent through the window to give him Moss’s instructions.
The burly corporal stared at Thad a minute. “You son of a bitch, you been standing here for three hours and you knew all along whose stuff this was and where it was supposed to go and you never said a word. You navy punks stink. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t know the password and I can’t whistle. Would you have believed me?”
“Guess not. This stuff is like gold. Okay, sorry I blew up at you, but I still think you navy guys stink.”
“Oh, yeah?” Thad growled. “Buzz off, buddy. And I outrank you, so lets not bring it to a test. Move it! Corporal!”
“Yes sir!” the corporal said, smartly saluting. The minute Thad’s back was turned the smart salute was minus four fingers.
Billie watched the hectic preparations for the barbecue. She could tell. that Moss was irritated to the point where he was going to do or say something hurtful to the slow-moving Phillip. “Yes sir, Mr. Moss, sir, wikiwiki. Cow is big difference from pig. Pig is easy to roast. Cow much meat. Much more heavier. You have two cows. Much work. No help. You bring more help we move wikiwiki.”
“Steer. It’s a steer,” Moss said in exasperation. “More help is on the way. Let’s get this spit going and we can set up the other one on the beach. I don’t see what the big problem is. Roasting a pig is the same principle as a steer. The only difference is you put an apple in the pig’s mouth. You want an apple in this steer’s mouth, you have my permission.”
“Apple too small. Maybe pineapple. Stupid you no want luau. In Hawaii you have luau. We not make”—he searched his mind for the words Moss had repeated over and over to him—“Tukas barkut.”
“Texas barbecue.” Moss grimaced. Billie giggled behind her hand. Secretly she had to agree with Phillip. A luau would have been so much simpler.
It was three o’clock in the morning and Billie was tired. All she wanted to do was go to bed and sleep in Moss’s arms. But Moss, she knew, had no thoughts of sleep. He was going to supervise until it was time to leave for the base at five-thirty. How he could devote all his attention and energy to this ridiculous cookout was beyond her. Phillip was literally falling asleep on his feet, but Moss would show him no mercy. Once the pit was just right and the steer secure on the spit, Moss stood back to view his handiwork. “Pap would be proud of me,” Moss said with a clap of his hands. “Now all we have to do is get the other pit ready and then sit back. Billie, you took care of all the other food, didn’t you? Ice is coming first thing in the morning—I want that beer to be ice cold. Who’s shucking the corn? What about the sauce? Are you sure that gal in the kitchen knows what to do with it?”
“Trust me, darling. Everything is under control,” Billie said wearily.
“Did you get yourself a colorful muumuu?”
“I didn’t have the time. Don’t worry. I have so
mething to wear.”
“Billie, I told you to get a muumuu. Or rather I told Thad to tell you. I wanted you to wear something bright and colorful with a hibiscus behind your ear. You’ve been lying around the house for days. How much trouble would it have been for you to go down to one of the shops in Waikiki and get one? Goddamn it, Billie, was that too much to ask?”
Billie felt like a whipped dog. Moss had never, ever spoken to her like this before. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Moss. I didn’t think it was all that important. I brought all these new clothes with me that I’ve never worn. They’re so much prettier . . . than a baggy muumuu.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Moss. I’ll get one this morning.”
Moss swung around. “You can’t go anywhere today. You have to stay here and keep your eye on things. I don’t want you to even think of leaving.”
“All right, Moss. I’m sorry. Please, don’t be angry. I don’t want us to argue. Our time is so short and I don’t want anything to spoil it.”
Moss’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, too. It’s just that you’ve always tried to please me. I rarely, if ever, tell you to do anything. I thought you would understand that it was important to me to have you wear a muumuu. I plan on having some pictures taken to send on to Pap and Mam. All the guys from the squadron are wearing floral shirts. Most of the brass is coming in island dress. You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb. The hostess standing out like a sore thumb is not something I wanted, Billie. Pap and Mam are going to be disappointed.
“Well, it’s too late now, so let’s forget it. Old Phillip here looks like he’s about wrung out, so you’re going to have to help me with the beach pit. You can do that, can’t you?”
At that point, Billie would have done anything to bring a smile to her husband’s face.
When Moss left the house at five-thirty, Billie was exhausted. Both longhorns were turning slowly on the spits. The tender beef would be ready for serving by ten o’clock that night. Wet sand and salt covered every inch of her skin. Her blond curls were matted and caked with salt spray. She sank to the sand and cried. Moss had only pecked her on the cheek. It was the kind of kiss, she thought, a man would give his mistress as he exited her apartment so no trace of perfume would stay with him. She felt wretched. Angry tears scalded her eyes. Moss hadn’t even responded when she’d said she loved him and warned him to drive carefully. He’d nodded curtly and climbed into the Jeep. He was angry with her. How could she have been so stupid?
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