He could feel his anger start to build. If he didn't watch it, his whole day would be ruined. He wasn't going to call today, either. Every time he thought about calling, it was either too late or too early. The last two times he'd called, Billie said Amelia was out. Since the Nelsons didn't have an answering machine, he didn't know if Amelia had called while he was
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out. Someone had been calling, seven or eight times in the past few days, but so far he hadn't managed to get to the phone before it stopped ringing.
He punched at the fluffy pillows, settling them more comfortably behind his head. Normally, he never smoked before he brushed his teeth or had breakfast, but now he lit a cigarette—defiantly. He watched a perfect smoke ring circle its way across the room and out the open French doors.
Julie. He'd given up on Julie. If it was meant to be, he'd have been able to make contact by now, probably sooner if he'd left a message.
He had four days and three nights left. He could laze in the sun, or he could take a tour around the islands. Or he could go to the Waikiki Beach Tower and camp out till Julie turned up.
He donned his swim trunks. There was something bothering him, but he couldn't quiet figure out what it was. He trotted down to the beach, his eyes on the brilliant blue of the water. He dropped his towel and hit the surf at a dead run. The shock of the cool, bracing water washed away all lingering signs of sleep. On the way back to the house, he heard the phone ringing. This time he wasn't going to bother to run to answer it. Whoever it was would hang up just as he picked up the receiver. After he dried off, maybe he'd call Amelia. Amelia would laugh about the way they kept missing each other.
He'd seen Amelia on the eleven o'clock news. He thought he was going to burst with pride. From bypass surgery and recovery to the one hundredth Congress. A coup if ever there was one. But the pride was short-lived, replaced now with anger.
Cary felt a twinge of envy at his wife's accomplishment. Not many people could do what she'd done. His inner city seemed dull now in comparison to Amelia reaching Congress, presenting a truly important issue. The sugarcane deal was just another deal. He'd never make the noonday news, much less the eleven o'clock news. And he hadn't been there to share her victory the way she'd shared the grand opening of Miranda with him. The rest of her family was there, though, sharing her big moment. Rand, Maggie—Billie and Thad. Amelia's family. Suddenly he felt like an outsider.
Cary slipped into jeans, a pullover of soft sky-blue knit, and deck shoes.
On the drive to the restaurant, and while he ate, Cary's
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mind clicked. Amelia had been so insistent that he come here. He could have sworn she meant to join him, because Amelia never said things she didn't mean. He'd looked forward to showing her around the islands so he could see and appreciate them through her eyes. Could it be that she really didn't want him with her in Washington? That she didn't want him there for her big, grand moment? She hadn't even called to tell him how nervous she was. She hadn't called to tell him what it was like to speak before Congress and to see herself on the national news. She hadn't wanted to share that with him, but she was sharing it with Thad and Billie, Maggie and Rand. She'd handpicked her audience.
Cary looked down at the eggs and pancakes he'd been devouring. He pushed the plate away. Even the coffee tasted rancid now.
In the parking lot, Cary sat in the car for a long time before he started the engine. From the day they were married, he'd shared everything with Amelia. All his hopes, his dreams, his failures. He'd left nothing out. Once he'd even cried in her arms and been comforted. He'd shared his vulnerability with her. She was such a rock, always saying the right thing at the right time. He wondered now how many times she'd hidden her own hurt and frustration from him. He'd never wondered about that before. One of the greatest moments of her life, and she hadn't wanted to share it with him! "Don't let this fester, Cary," an inner voice warned. "Stop now at the next place you see with a phone. Call."
The golden arches of McDonald's beckoned him: he figured it was about five miles down the road. When he got there, he changed a five-dollar bill for silver.
The phone in the Georgetown house rang fifteen times before Cary hung up. It was three o'clock in the afternoon in DC. He searched his billfold for Thad's private number in Washington. He was told that Senator Kingsley was visiting a sick friend and could be reached at his home after six. Cary hung up in disgust.
Cary felt sick as he climbed back into the car. How could Amelia slap him in the face like this? All along he'd felt as though he belonged—been a part of the family. Had they been laughing at him behind his back? Had they poked at one another when Amelia picked out his clothes and gave him crash courses in Texas protocol? Had they only pretended to accept him because that was what Amelia wanted?
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The siren behind Cary made him glance in the rearview mirror and then at his speedometer. He slowed and pulled over to the side of the road.
"I clocked you at ninety, sir. We don't drive that way in our state. If you're a visitor, you're expected to obey the speed laws, like everyone else. Take your license out of the billfold, sir."
Cary handed over the license and the car rental papers. He felt like shit. There was no defense, and he wasn't about to offer one. He signed his name carefully so that it was legible, pocketed his license, and drove off at a sedate fifty miles an hour.
The rental car seemed to have a mind of its own as it headed toward Waikiki.
To Julie.
Her reflection in the glaring fluorescent light of her bathroom dismayed Julie. She looked every day of her age and then some, she decided. No amount of makeup would cover the dark circles under her eyes, but it might at least cover the sunburn on her forehead and the tip of her nose. She wished she'd taken her sunglasses off when she was in the sun. Now she looked like a raccoon, with white-rimmed eyes and bright red nose. There was a tight line around her mouth, too, one she'd never had before this trip. She looked tired, unhappy, and disillusioned. Mirrors, like cameras, didn't lie. Before she checked out she was going to fill out the card on the desk that asked for suggestions. Rosy light bulbs in bedroom and bathroom.
Julie gingerly patted some aloe gel on her sunburn, hoping she wouldn't peel. She snapped off the offensive bathroom light in disgust.
She was in an awful mood, one that wasn't going to allow her to sleep. She popped a can of Bud Light and carried it to the balcony. The breeze was warm, drying the tears on her cheeks almost immediately. She gulped at the beer, knowing she'd have another and then another till the six-pack she'd purchased at the ABC store was gone.
Seeing Amelia on the late news had been a terrible shock. Amelia wasn't here, but Cary was. What did it mean? Maybe he'd gone home, and that's why there was no answer. She'd sat, bug-eyed, when Amelia was introduced to the Congress as Amelia Coleman Assante. She'd felt so proud to know her.
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Amelia had been absolutely wonderful as she spoke about the problems of the aging, citing herself as one of the more fortunate oldsters. Based on Amelia's passionate voice, she'd have voted for anything Amelia was pleading for. Probably every other woman in America would have, too. Even the men, if they weren't fools. When the camera panned the crowd, she'd caught a glimpse of Thad, but no sign of Cary.
Julie's imagination ran away with her as she sucked on can after can of beer. Amelia and Cary had separated; otherwise Cary would have been at her side for something as important as an appearance before Congress. Cary had come here to find her because she was the most important thing in the world to him. Cary loved her and wanted to be with her, here in the islands, instead of in Washington with his wife. Cary didn't want to be reminded on national television about their age difference. Cary wouldn't want to be standing next to Amelia when she spoke to the reporters. Numbers. Her fantasies were rich and ripe; she pictured Cary knocking down her bedroom door and scooping her up in his arms.
The beer was gone, all
six dead soldiers lined up on the glass-topped patio table. She didn't have the buzz she thought she'd have, nor was she sleepy. Instead, she was on overload, ready to erupt at any minute. She'd gone to the bathroom eleven times in the five hours she'd been sitting out here. The sun was up and it was going to be another glorious Hawaiian day.
Enough was enough! She showered, dressed, and gulped down a cup of instant coffee. While she sipped at the hated packaged coffee, she called down to the desk to order a rental car. She copied down the desk clerk's directions to the North Shore.
By nine-fifteen she was on Kam Highway, headed for Ha-leiwa. Twice she got lost, her nerves pinging in protest at the delay. She pulled over, backed up, and retraced her steps. Eventually she found her way back to Kam Highway. An hour later it was obvious she'd passed Maggie's house. She drove slowly, getting out three times to peer at the house numbers hidden behind glossy banyan leaves. Finally, a half mile down the road, she found the gates to the Nelsons' driveway.
The wheels of her car crunched on the shale in the driveway and should have alerted anyone in the house to her arrival. Two cars, a Mercedes station wagon and an Audi, stood in the open garage. Both cars had Hawaiian license plates.
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The Nelsons' cars. Whatever made her think they wouldn't be home? She hadn't seen Amelia's son, Rand, on the news, so they must be here.
Well, she was here now, and she'd have to make the best of it. She rang the doorbell for a full minute, listening to the continuous chime inside. Either they weren't home or they were outside.
Julie could feel the heat of excitement on her face as she walked around to the back of the house. Her heart pounded wildly at the thought of Cary sitting there, reading the morning paper. Or the Nelsons having a late breakfast. She was trembling so badly, she had to stop and take deep breaths. What would the Nelsons think of her, popping up on their doorstep? Surely they'd see right through her and know she was here only to see Cary. She felt as though her intentions were clearly written on her face.
The lanai was empty and there was no sign of anyone on the lawn or the beach at the foot of the yard. A wet towel hung haphazardly over the back of a webbed chair. She tried the kitchen door and found it unlocked. She cracked it open and called a greeting. When she received no response, she opened it wider and stuck her head in, calling louder. When there was still no response, her shoulders slumped. She'd come all this way for nothing.
The house seemed so inviting, almost as if it were beckoning her to enter. She wasn't sure what breaking and entering consisted of. If the door was open, was it the same thing? The Nelsons had invited her to stop by if she was ever in Hawaii. Surely they wouldn't mind if she used their bathroom. But what she really wanted was to see if there was any sign of Cary. She decided to go in.
It was a beautiful house—low, sprawling, light and airy. She forgot her need of the bathroom as she walked slowly around the house, savoring the beauty of it all. The French doors leading to the patio were shaded from the sun but allowed the garden, with all its rich, vibrant blooms, to be part of the view. If the doors were open, as they were now, the garden became an extension of the living room. The light bamboo furniture made it a perfect blend of indoors and outdoors. She could taste the tang of the sea far below and feel the ocean breeze wafting through the open doors.
The bedrooms she walked through made her gasp in delight, but it was the open suitcase on the floor that made her
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eyes light up. He was still here. The light coating of dust she'd seen in the other rooms was testimony that the Nelsons weren't in residence.
She felt more comfortable now that she wouldn't have to concoct a story for Maggie and Rand. Instantly, she made a decision: she'd wait here for Cary, no matter how long it took. She'd wait outside, on the lanai.
She washed her hands in the same bathroom Cary used and dried her hands on a damp towel, probably the same one he'd dried himself with after showering. When she settled herself on the lanai, she altered her plan slightly: she'd wait till five o'clock. If Cary didn't return by then, she'd leave. If she could calm her nerves and still her furiously beating heart, maybe she'd be able to catch a nap. She felt giddy and lightheaded.
Cary, I'm here; where are you? she whispered over and over.
The valet attendant at the Waikiki Beach Tower looked at Cary and smirked. Before Cary could get a word out of his mouth, the valet informed him that Miss Kingsley had left about two hours ago. "I'd say she plans to be gone all day, because she ordered a rental car." Cary wanted to kick the desk he was leaning on. The valet added insult to injury when he asked, "Do you want to leave your name ... this time?"
"Yes, I do," Cary said through clenched teeth. He roared out of the garage onto Liliuokalani Street, narrowly missing a girl in a bikini. He sobered instantly, remembering his speeding ticket. He drove like a ninety-year-old Sunday afternoon driver, up one street and down another.
Since he had nothing else to do, he opted for some sightseeing. If he paid attention, he should be able to find his way to Pearl Harbor. And he would keep calling the Waikiki Beach Tower each time he saw a phone booth.
Anger, hot and scorching, roared through him every time he thought of Amelia's betrayal. It was still raging in him when he parked the car and slammed down his money for a ticket to view the Arizona Memorial. He followed the rest of the crowd, mostly Japanese, into the theater, where film footage of the bombing of Pearl Harbor was shown. He watched it defensively, aware of all the Japanese around him. He wondered what they were thinking of, or were they like him, thinking only about personal problems? All he could think
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about was placing another call to Billie's house, and then the Beach Tower. He had to get this searing anger off his chest.
It was four o'clock when Cary dropped money into the pay phone to call Billie. His fist pounded the counter when the receiver wasn't picked up by the ninth ring. He held on a few moments longer. Billie picked it up, gasping for breath, on the eleventh ring.
"It's Cary, Billie."
"Cary! What... How nice of you to call. Is anything wrong?"
"Not at all. Is Amelia there? I've been calling all day and there's been no answer. I called Thad's private number and his secretary told me he was visiting a sick friend."
"Amelia isn't here, Cary. I know it's nine o'clock, but there was this... this... gathering she was invited to. Do you want me to give her a message?"
"Is Rand there?" Cary asked, ignoring the part about leaving a message.
"Ah, no, no, he isn't. He's... he's with Amelia, Cary. Would you like me to have him call you back?"
Cary seethed. "What I would like, Billie, is to have my goddamn wife call me back, if it isn't too goddamn much trouble for her. You can also tell her for me, if she didn't want me with her, all she had to do was say so. She should have told me to my face instead of making up excuses. Forget it, Billie, don't tell her any of the things I just said. I'm sorry I'm taking my anger out on you. Please, forgive me. Just tell Amelia I called, and give my regards to Rand, Maggie, and Thad." Rand was personable and elegant enough to squire Amelia to her "gathering," but he wasn't. Fuck it all!
Defiantly, Cary dropped more money into the phone. "Miss Kingsley doesn't answer," the impersonal voice announced. Cary left his name, and the Nelsons' phone number.
He was back in Waikiki. Cary knew the streets now, turning here, maneuvering to the right or left to avoid a one-way street, beating the major portion of late-afternoon traffic. He was on H-l a little before five. He paid careful attention to the speedometer; every few seconds he looked into the rear-view mirror. He turned off Kam Highway and pulled into a Burger King. For the first time since breakfast, he realized he was starving. He ordered three Whoppers, a double order of french fries, and two cups of coffee.
* * *
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It was four-thirty when Julie started her countdown. She'd had such high hopes, and now they were dashed. She couldn't
stay here any longer like a lovesick schoolgirl. It was clear now to her that she wasn't going to find Cary. If she was meant to be with him, they would have found each other before this. She'd made a fool of herself by coming here, but thank God, no one knew about it but herself.
She used the bathroom one last time before the long trip back to Waikiki. She brought the still damp towel to her cheek. It smelled like Cary. She wanted to wad it up and carry it with her. Instead, she spread it out neatly on the rack, so it would dry.
He was here—at least, his things were here. So close. She ached with longing as she took one last look around the bedroom. Cary's suit hanging neatly, his dress shoes lined up underneath. Jeans and T-shirts slung over the backs of chairs. Cary's things. His shaving gear, his toothbrush, his aftershave. She closed her eyes, swaying dizzily. She sat down on the edge of the bed, imagining she could feel Cary's body warmth emanating from the tangled bed sheets. She had to get out of here before she burst into tears.
It was two minutes after five when she backed her car out of the gravel driveway.
The Burger King on her left looked appealing to Julie. Her conscience hadn't allowed her to touch the food in the Nelsons' refrigerator. She realized she was starving. She drove to the back of the parking lot and swerved next to a car with a Dollar Rent a Car sign on it. Curious, she bent down to look at the license plate. Her heart skipped at least two beats. With shaking hands, she rummaged in her handbag for the scrap of paper with Cary's license plate number. She leaned against the trunk of the car, a feeling of warmth coursing through her.
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