by Patricia Fry
Gladys closed her eyes and took in the scent. “It’s lovely. Thank you, Vannie.”
“Sure. Looks beautiful on you. Don’t you just love the way the flowers feel against your skin,” she said swooning a little. Once they were seated on the shuttle bus, Savannah said, “You’ve been here before, haven’t you, Mom?”
“Yes, your father and I came for our fifteenth wedding anniversary.” Her smile turned sour for a moment when she added, “Against my better judgment, I left you girls with your Aunt Margaret.”
“Why against your better judgment, Gladys?” Michael asked looking concerned. “Are you saying we’re taking a risk when we leave Lily with Maggie?”
“Oh no. But she was a bit of an irresponsible, wild-and-crazy hippie in those days. I wasn’t sure what I’d find when we returned.”
“And what did you find?” Michael asked, smiling, “Tattoos all over their bodies, was Savannah arrested at a love-in?”
“No,” Gladys said. “As far as I know nothing monumental happened. Maggie returned my two sweet daughters to me.”
“Savannah, are you smirking?” Shelly asked from across the aisle.
“Ohhh, what mischief did you and Brianna get into?” Michael asked in a teasing manner.
“Nothing,” Savannah said innocently. She then pointed. “Oh, look at that view. Where’s my camera?”
“Honey,” Gladys said, gazing out over the ocean, “there’s no hurry to take that picture—no hurry at all. That’s the view you’ll see the whole time you’re here.”
“You may even see this out your hotel room window,” Shelly said. “I understand most of us have an ocean view.”
Savannah giggled. “I’m so excited. This is going to be so much fun. Just imagine—five days in paradise.”
Michael smiled and squeezed her hand.
****
“Breakfast in the Orchid Room,” Savannah announced the next morning while studying the itinerary she’d found slipped under their hotel room door. “After we eat, we’re going to walk along Waikiki Beach for a photo shoot and a brief workshop on using shade and light. Rebecca told me on the bus last night that the contrast is so great here on a sunny day that, in order to get better pictures, we must learn to compensate. Otherwise our pictures might be too light—washed out.”
“I think I’ll take the point-and-shoot,” Michael said, digging in his suitcase for the camera. “Don’t want to be left out of things.”
“Oh, you just want a reason to ogle the bikini-clad beauties on the beach, right?”
Michael winked, then said in a serious tone, “No, I’m interested in taking action shots. I’m hoping to find a hot game of beach volleyball.”
“Really?” Savannah tilted her head, her blond ponytail brushing over one shoulder.
“Yes, don’t women play beach volleyball in Hawaii wearing bikinis?”
Savannah slapped playfully at her husband. “Women, huh? I almost bought your story.”
“Is he telling you stories?” Gladys asked, joining the couple in their room.
“Morning, Gladys,” Michael said. “Are you ready for an adventure?”
When Gladys saw Lily raise her arms toward her, she picked her up, hugged her, and said, “Sure am.” She looked at the baby’s outfit. “Aren’t you adorable?” Tugging at one side of her dress, she added, “But it looks a little small. Vannie, don’t you think so?”
Savannah nodded. “Yes, she’s outgrown all her summer clothes, except for a few she got from you at Christmas. We need to go shopping for her today. Are you game, Mom?”
“Sure. I love baby-girl shopping.”
“Is breakfast ready?” Michael asked. “Can we go now?”
“Yes,” Savannah said. “Does anyone know where the Orchid Room is?”
“No, but we can ask someone,” Michael assured her. “Let’s take the stroller; we’ll need it for our walk. Hon, do you have the sunscreen, Lily’s sun hat, her drinks?”
Savannah nodded. “Sure do. Let’s go, shall we?” Once they’d arrived at the Orchid Room, she said, “This room is so pretty…looks like it’s a buffet today.” Glancing at the others, she asked, “Want to sit outside? There’s a beach view.”
“Hey look, there’s a volleyball game,” Michael said. “Yeah, let’s sit outside where we can watch the game.” He asked Savannah, “Can I look through the long lens on your camera? I mean…can I take a few pictures with your camera?”
“Oh Michael, simmer down. If you get this excited every time you see women in bikinis, you’re apt to have a heart attack before we leave the island.”
“You’re no fun,” he said, feigning a pout.
When he pulled her to him and kissed her neck, she laughed. “Michael, why are you so frisky? Come on now, let’s find a table, then we’ll take turns going to the buffet. Hey, there’s Shelly and Rebecca.” She waved. “Want to join us?”
The two women nodded and followed the Ivey party to a table for six on the deck. Once everyone had fixed themselves a plate and sat down to eat, Savannah noticed something. “What kind of flower is that?”
“Isn’t it an orchid?” Gladys suggested. “Or is it ginger?”
“I don’t know. It’s beautiful. Hand me my camera, Michael; I want to shoot it.” Camera in hand, Savannah walked along a large planter looking for just the right blossom, and then began focusing for a close-up of the delicate white flower. She had snapped a few pictures when suddenly she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Hey, you don’t have permission to take my picture!”
Stunned, Savannah rose and saw a man intently staring back at her from the other side of the planter box. Oh, this guy must be teasing me, she thought to herself. But when she looked into his face, she saw seriously intense anger. He’s not kidding. He looks downright scary. “Oh…um,” she stuttered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. I wasn’t…” When he continued to stare into her eyes, she stepped back and stumbled a little against something…or someone. Immediately, she felt a pair of warm hands against her skin.
“Hello,” came a smooth-as-silk male voice. “Do you always walk around backward?”
Her heart in her throat, Savannah quickly turned and saw a well-built man of about forty smiling at her, his face so close she could smell his aftershave lotion. “Sorry,” she murmured, wriggling from his grip.
“Perfectly okay,” he said, continuing to smile at her. He scowled toward the dark-skinned island man who had startled Savannah. “Go on now,” he said to the man, motioning with one hand. “Go.”
The native continued to focus angrily on Savannah. He glanced at the other man, then pointed a finger at her menacingly. What happened next was like a kick in the stomach for Savannah. He narrowed his eyes and snarled, “I’ll kill you,” before throwing a small canvas bag over one shoulder and trotting away across the sand.
“My gosh, what did I do?” she muttered. Gulping in air, she explained, “I was just taking a picture of that flower. Did he say he’d kill me?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Don’t let that worry you, pretty lady,” the man said, still smiling. “Are you traveling alone?”
She gestured across the patio toward her table. “No, I’m with…Michael…my husband,” she stammered, “and a bunch of other people.”
He ran his eyes over her one more time and sighed, “Too bad.” He then told her, “Just stay close to your people.” He glanced behind her. “So that’s your husband over there, right—and your friends?”
Savannah nodded.
“Stay close to them. Do not go on the beach at night. You’ll be fine.” He motioned toward the camera in her hand. “Look at what’s around you before you start pointing that thing. Just like on the mainland, there are crazies living here and some of them do not like anyone taking their picture.”
“Well…thank you…” she stuttered.
“Um…Mikala,” he said, bowing slightly and reaching for her hand.
“Thank you, Mikala,” she said, slipping her hand into his.
“And you’re? he asked.
“Savannah.”
“Ahhh, as in the great city in Georgia. Beautiful…as are you.”
Still rather stunned by what had just taken place and the gallant nature of this Hawaiian man, Savannah lowered her eyes, turned, and glanced at Michael and the others. “Well, thank you again. I need to get back to my family.”
Still holding tightly to her hand, Mikala said, “Savannah, stay close to your people.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, pulling free of his gentle grip and heading back to her place at the table.
“Who’s your friend?” Michael asked rather off-handedly when Savannah returned.
She glanced in Mikala’s direction and saw that he was gone. “Oh…a...he kind of rescued me. His name’s Mikala.”
“Better eat, Vannie,” Gladys suggested. “We leave for the beach walk in fifteen minutes. This is good—you must try the fish wrapped in banana leaves.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said, glancing out over the beach, hoping not to see the island man again, and wondering where Mikala had gone—as a matter of fact, where he came from in the first place and what he knows about the man who had threatened her. She replayed his words in her head: “Don’t walk on the beach at night?” Now that’s something I was looking forward to—a walk on Waikiki Beach at night with Michael. Surely Mikala had exaggerated.
****
“Ready for an adventure?” Michael asked Savannah as they began to gather for their first photo workshop.
“Michael, I want to go up and change my clothes.”
“What? Why? Did you spill something on yourself?” he asked, looking at her colorful cotton dress.
“No, it’s just that…” before she could explain, tears filled her eyes.
“What’s wrong, hon?” he asked, leading her away from the group.
“I’m scared.”
“Of what, for Pete’s sake?” When he could see the fear in her face, he turned to the others. “Gladys, Savannah and I’ll catch up with you—why don’t you and Lily go on with the group.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked, glancing at Savannah.
“Yes. We just need to go upstairs for a minute,” Michael said. “We’ll be back shortly. You and Lily go have fun.” Once the couple reached their room, he asked, “Savannah what’s wrong? What happened this morning?”
She plopped down on the edge of their bed and tried to explain. “Michael, I was taking a picture of that flower, when a man jumped up from behind it and he…he threatened me.”
“Threatened you?” he asked, scowling. “In what way?”
Her voice was pinched as she spoke. “He said he was going to kill me.”
“What?” Michael ran his hand through his hair, then knelt next to her. “Who is this guy?” His voice took on a threatening tone when he asked, “Is he the one you were talking to at breakfast?”
She shook her head. “No. Mikala rescued me.”
“Rescued you?”
“Yes, he said not to pay the island man any mind, but he said…Michael…he said we should not walk at night on the beach.”
“Why?”
“He seemed to think it’s unsafe.” She grabbed his arm. “Michael, you should have seen that man’s face. He looked so hateful and he glared into my eyes, like…well, it was awful. I was terrified.”
Michael stood and paced for a moment, then stopped and sat next to Savannah, holding her. “We need to report this to hotel security and have that man arrested.”
“For what?”
“For threatening you, that’s what! I’m sure hotel management doesn’t want their guests scared away. Did you get a picture of him?”
“I don’t think so.”
He picked up the camera. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”
“Oh my gosh, Michael. That’s him. There he is. I did get his picture. I didn’t mean to—it’s blurry, because I was focusing on the flower. I didn’t even see him, until he started yelling at me.”
“Well, come on, wash your face, and let’s join the others. We’ll report him after the photo tour, okay?”
“Okay, but I want to change my clothes.”
“Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“Michael, do you see what I’m wearing? It’s like a huge red flag. This purple and yellow flower print dress will be easy to spot and remember. I want to change into something more subdued and maybe wear a hat.” She began to cry again. “I don’t want him to recognize me. I’ll feel so vulnerable out there on the beach.”
“Hey, we don’t have to go with the others today. Why don’t we do something else this morning?’
“No. I don’t want to miss out just because of that darned guy.” She stood and said, defiantly. “We’re going, dammit. He’s not going to ruin my trip.”
“That’s my girl,” Michael said. “Now go make yourself incognito and let’s get on with our vacation, shall we?”
Chapter 4
Two hours later, the photographers trekked back to the hotel, chatting excitedly about their first group outing.
“Tomorrow morning, we’ll take the bus to the North Shore and photograph surfers riding the big waves,” Rebecca announced. “You can go on the group bus or meet us there by car or the island bus, if you want. This might be a good opportunity to see the rest of the island. You can hop on and off public transportation along the way. I recommend stopping at the Crouching Lion for coconut pie on the east side of Oahu.”
Before Rebecca could continue, a gentleman interrupted. “I heard it closed down.”
“Oh?” Rebecca said.
Others chimed in with comments of disappointment, including Gladys, who said, “Now that’s a shame. I was looking forward to a piece of that pie.”
“Well, there are many interesting restaurants and other places to visit throughout the island. So keep your eyes and your mind open,” Rebecca continued. “There will be a lot of photo ops, too. So be aware of your surroundings. You don’t want to miss a potentially good shot.”
“Or some good food,” Shelly added.
Once the group had scattered, Michael asked Savannah and Gladys, “What do you ladies want to do now?”
“We ought to get the baby in her bed where she can rest more comfortably,” Gladys suggested, looking at Lily, who was asleep in Michael’s arms.
“Yeah, maybe we should rent one of those all-wheel-drive strollers so we can push her on the sand,” he suggested. “I’m going to check into it.” He looked at Savannah. “For now, I’ll carry Lily up to the room and get her settled, then let’s go talk to security, shall we?”
“Security?” Gladys questioned.
“Yeah.” He glanced at Savannah again. “We’ll tell you about it later, Gladys.”
As the trio stepped into the lobby of their hotel from the beach side, they heard a voice. “Hello, pretty lady.”
They glanced up to see the man known as Mikala standing off to the side, grinning at Savannah. As he approached them, she said, “Hello. Um…Mikala, this is my husband, Michael.”
He nodded politely toward Michael. “Same as my name,” he said. When the couple looked puzzled, he explained, “Mikala is Michael in the Hawaiian language.”
“Oh,” Michael said, half-heartedly. “Interesting.”
“What is the little girl’s name?” Mikala asked, smiling.
“Lily,” Savannah said.
“Actually, Lillianna,” Gladys corrected.
“Oh, it is the same in my language,” Mikala said. “Still Lillianna. Is she an island girl?”
Savannah shook her head. “Is there a translation for Savannah?” she asked. “That’s my name.”
“Yes, I remember. It is Kawanaha.”
“Oooh, pretty,” she said. She practiced pronouncing it: “Kawanaha. Kawanaha.” She then turned to Mikala. “What’s Gladys in Hawaiian?”
“Kala…” Gladys started.
“You are Kalakeke,” Mikala said.
“I like it. Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you,” Michael said. “We’d better put the island girl to bed—she’s getting heavy. Maybe we’ll see you around.”
“No doubt you will,” Mikala said, winking at Savannah.
“I think he has a crush on you, hon,” Michael said in a hushed tone as they approached the elevator.
“Oh, Michael, they’re just friendly people.” She frowned. “…well, except for that awful man.”
He glanced behind them. “It’s just odd how he keeps showing up—at breakfast and now in the lobby…”
“I think I’ll nap with Lillianna,” Gladys said, interrupting their conversation.
“That’s fine, Mom, if you want to,” Savannah said.
Several minutes later, after getting Lily settled, Michael and Savannah walked down to the hotel administrative offices. “We’d like to speak with someone in security,” Michael said. “…or management…I’m not sure which.”
“What’s the issue, sir?” the young man at the desk asked.
Michael glanced at Savannah. “My wife was threatened this morning and…”
“Threatened?” the younger man asked, scowling. “I guess that would be security. I’ll check. Just give me a moment.” He then asked, “Are you guests of the hotel, sir?”
“Yes, Michael and Savannah Ivey.”
Within a few minutes, the Iveys were ushered into an office and introduced to a heavyset woman with sleek black hair pulled into a tight bun off-center on the back of her head. She wore a white plumeria flower on one side of the bun. “This is Ms. Chatham,” the man said. “She’s in charge of security here for our hotels.” He addressed the woman, “This is Mr. and Mrs. Ivey, guests in the hotel.” Glancing at Savannah, he added, “Mrs. Ivey received a threat.”
Without changing her demeanor or expression, Ms. Chatham said, “Thank you, Ronald.” Once he’d closed the door behind him, she motioned toward two chairs. “Please sit down, folks. Now what seems to be the problem?”