by Lynn Shurr
A dark and lean nervous man wearing whites pushed through the door. “Don’t linger here. The piranhas are gathering.” He pointed to the once deserted base of the steps where photographers swarmed from shaded nooks to catch a shot of Adam Malala leaving jail. Beyond them, a pre-ordered cab waited. Adam tucked Winnie under the protection of his arm and threw a few light blocks at the paparazzi to get all three of them inside the taxi. Of course, his only comment was “no comment.”
He took Winnie’s hand and raised her fingertips to his lips. She snatched it away. “Don’t! I have eau de swine scent on them. I had to help push a pig off the bus.”
He shook back that magnificent hair and roared with laughter, his white teeth brilliant against his dark skin. “Oh, Winnie! Thank you for coming. Thank you for making me laugh.”
The lawyer could not spare a smile. “No laughing when we get out of the cab. I want you sober, serious, and sad about the loss of Sammy Tau when you emerge. You know the press will follow us.”
“Right.” Still, he reclaimed Winnie’s delicate, pig-scented hand and covered it with his much larger one, not releasing her until he had to run interference again with a few photographers who divined where they headed. Maybe her presence, her support, did matter.
As soon as the doors of the hotel closed behind them, Adam went into conference with the humorless attorney, and Winnie reclaimed their suite with its wonderful hot shower and a flush toilet that did not have to be personally recharged with a bucket of water. She lavished herb-scented shampoo on her hair and washed her general grubbiness down the drain. A cream rinse helped tame her hair, and she dried it wrapped around a brush with the complimentary hairdryer. How living in the village made her appreciate small luxuries.
She padded into the bedroom wrapped only in her towel and found Adam stretched out in the bed covered only by a light sheet. His suit and formal lava-lava hung on a chair. The chunky gold Rolex he had retrieved from the hotel’s safe passed the time on a night table. He appeared to be sound asleep, and she should not wake him after all he had suffered the previous evening. Winnie tiptoed toward her suitcase to take out fresh clothes.
A strong arm whipped out, caught the edge of her towel, spun her back to the bed and into Adam’s clutches. He drew her naked under the covers. “I missed sleeping next to you.” He buried his face in her fragrant hair. “And this.” He teased her lips open for a deep kiss. “This, too.”
His fingers traced the curves of her upturned breasts and tickled their way down her centerline to the place where she already throbbed for him. “These and this most of all.” He rolled above her, keeping his weight balanced on his muscular forearms. She drew him in by crossing her legs over his tattooed hips. They started out as slow as a Samoan afternoon and ended more like the tsunami that had hit the islands a few years ago. On cue, the daily storm poured from the sky as Adam poured his seed into Winnie. She clenched around him, holding him in, not wanting to let him go now or ever.
When they parted at last, Winnie lay with her head resting above his great, booming heart while Adam stroked her hair and curled it around his fingers. “You aren’t going to ask me outright if I killed Sammy? I heard you defending me to the guards last night, and it felt good, that one person believed in my innocence. But how can you know so certainly? I mean, I play a violent sport. Hell, I told Joe, the Rev, and even Macho I wanted to kill the man. Someone will find out and add that to the argument I had with Sammy the day I came home. They will say I had motive, jealousy over Pala.”
Winnie shook her head against the strong wall of his muscles. “Adam, when I watch you play football, you cross that field and take out an opponent with athletic joy. You are the first one, like the Rev before you, to offer that man a hand up after the hit. I witnessed your gentleness with Teddy, your happiness in creating a beach out of a piece of scrub land. When I heard you talking to Pala, I did feel you might still want her, but later you said you were glad Sammy would have to live with her, not you. No, you didn’t kill him over a woman. You did not kill him at all.”
“I want to tell you what little there is to tell. I could not sleep that night. My mother’s words bothered me. I walked a long way on the beach considering if I wanted to live the fa’a Samoa with another village girl or stay stateside and marry a wonderful palagi woman.”
“Did you find your answer?”
“I was close when I heard the screams and this whole mess began. I cannot go any farther until my name is cleared.”
She wanted to say yes, he could. Yes, she would marry him in sun or in rain, but held back and simply told him what he always told her. “No worries. Get some rest. Sleep on it.”
“Tomorrow, I will contact Davita and ask him to bring your things here. I know you are uncomfortable in the village.”
“About as uncomfortable as any black woman everyone mistakes for white can be, but I want to go back for a few days and see if I can find out anything to help.”
“Lovely Winnie.” He kissed her hair. “The police have questioned everyone. What can you do?”
“Whatever it takes to clean up this mess so we can get on with our lives.”
He laughed softly. The next sound she heard from him was a light snore. Men could do that, just go to sleep. She could not. The rain outside continued to fall hard. On the village beach, it would wash away Sammy Tau’s blood and wipe out those feminine footprints.
She recalled the flitting form of a girl running in the night on the evening Pala had so viciously translated the argument that hurt her feelings. What young woman was bold enough to meet her boyfriend by the banyan tree, then offer herself to Adam? Perhaps, Lita meant to lure Sammy Tau away from her sister and show her up by marrying a matai. Maybe, one of her other lovers had killed Sammy when he found them together in that small coconut grove.
Then, she had to consider the rumor of a moetotolo roaming the village. Sammy might have had more courage and integrity than she gave him credit for, done his nightly rounds and caught the man in the act, only to be killed. The girl, ashamed of being raped, had fled and feared to speak up about it.
Adam had to stay in Pago. She could return to the village and with the eyes of a foreigner see what the rest of the villagers might want to ignore.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Winnie squeezed a lime wedge over half a papaya and prepared to eat the healthy part of her breakfast. Samoan pancakes, more like donuts, and a cup of the rich, chocolatey koko waited for her attention. No wonder so many people wore lava-lavas; they easily adjusted for weight gain. Still in her robe, she sincerely believed she would have to face an extra five pounds or more when she put on her mainland clothes again. Maybe the trek up the mountain road yesterday had melted some of the fat off her hips and thighs.
Across the small table in their suite, Adam polished off a platter of eggs, corned beef, and hash browns washed down with coffee. Not an extra ounce showed on him, but then, he’d been hauling in fishing nets and hacking down weeds in the plantation. The telephone rang. Winnie assumed the call would be from Adam’s lawyer or the pastor, but being closer, she picked it up.
Damn, her sister had figured out how to make an international call. Like any prudent traveler, she’d given Mintay the name of the hotel where they would be staying, though she’d strayed far from there during her trip.
“God, baby sis, do you know you are all over the internet? Thank the Lord Nana doesn’t own a computer and Mom and Dad pretty much ignore Yahoo and Google. For now, you are labeled Adam Malala’s unidentified island companion, but that won’t last long. The tabloids will offer some bucks to discover your name. What on earth happened down there? Adam accused of murder. I do not believe it.”
“Me neither.”
“Hurray for you. Is Adam with you now? Rev wants to speak to him.”
This would not be good. Reluctantly, Winnie handed the phone to Adam. “The Rev, and I don’t mean Davita.”
She could hear the blast of her brother-in-law�
�s voice from across the table. “Whatever kind o’ trouble you got brewing down there, you’ll be putting our little sister on the first plane out of Samoa. She don’t need this, you hear me good.”
Adam nodded. “I will do that.”
“Give me that phone.” Winnie snatched it back. “Now you hear me good, Revelation Jeremiah Bullock. I am way over eighteen and no one can tell me what to do anymore. The last time I followed my family’s advice, I married Doug and that did not work out so well. Like the GI’s in World War II, I am in the islands for the duration. I’ll be home when I am good and ready.” She disconnected before the sermon could begin.
Adam smiled at her over a small arrangement of red ginger blossoms. “You’ve come a long way from the woman afraid to exceed the speed limits.”
“I think I’m reaching a hundred miles an hour and not slowing down.”
Another ring of the phone let them know that both the lawyer and Davita had arrived. Winnie ducked into the bathroom to throw on one of her sundresses and sandals and came out ready to return to the village.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Adam asked again.
“I’ll be back to stand at your side in a few days if I don’t find out anything. I’ll even ride the bus with a whole herd of pigs if I must.”
He kissed the top of her head, maybe not what he really wanted to do, but with the minister and lawyer standing there, kept it simple. Winnie made two requests of Davita on their way out of town—the first that they stop to pick up a baby gift for his wife and son. Knowing Lila would nurse and that the baby in this climate would wear little else than a diaper, she settled on a mobile of bright fishes to hang over his bed, a very modest offering at best, but Davita approved because a fish often represented Christianity. The new parents had settled on the name Sa, which meant sacred or holy, a good moniker for a preacher’s boy.
She also asked him to stop for some groceries, a large sack of rice, and a case of the ever-popular corned beef to present to Ela because her household had grown by four since Winnie’s arrival. “You are catching on to ours ways, Winnie. Accept graciously and give generously,” Davita said as he helped stow the supplies.
“Yes, I believe I am.” Cautiously she steered Davita to news from the village. Did the people really believe Adam to be guilty?
“Those that know his good nature from childhood say no. Others side with Sammy’s ’aiga and recall only their recent bad blood. If Adam is found guilty there will have to be a huge public apology from his family to prevent more violence.”
“I understand that now. Have you heard anymore about the moetotolo?”
Davita shook his head. “No, probably what you first thought. Someone might have started the rumors to keep the young women in at night.”
“Who told you these rumors?”
“Oh, my wife. She thought I should know and wondered if any troubled parishioners had come to me about it, but none had.” He swerved to avoid one of the overloaded buses careening down the center of the road, then set the Jeep back on course with steady hands.
“I suppose if someone confessed to you, you could not turn them in.”
“We are not Catholic, Winnie. I would go to the matai and then the police if I knew who committed such a crime, but none have been reported.”
At length, they came to the rutted road and the jungle-obscured sign pointing to the village. Winnie asked to stop at the parsonage to see Lila and the baby. Davita dropped her there and went on to deliver the food to Ela. Winnie found both of her patients thriving. Lila sat in a well-padded rattan chair and had the baby at her breast under a light shawl. She drank her own concoction of vaisalo, the cooked grated coconut meat and milk mixed with arrowroot starch supposed to be good for new mothers and whatever else ailed a person. She offered a cup to Winnie who took it to be hospitable and prolong the visit. Once little Sa had completed his meal and gone to sleep, Winnie presented her gift to Lila’s delight and slowly sipped her thick drink.
“Thank you so much for your good care of me during my labor. I was terrified, but tried not to show it. You have very soothing hands.”
“Thank you. One of the things I enjoy about caring for people is lessening pain. I learned a lot from Lua that night as well.” Winnie took a deep cleansing breath herself and continued. “I don’t mean to spoil your joy, but I am so concerned about Adam.”
Lila nodded. “We all are.”
“Not some perhaps, but that doesn’t matter. I wanted to ask about the moetotolo stories and who told you.”
“Oh, my husband and Pala asked me to speak to Lita about her wild ways. Having a softer manner, they thought I might succeed where they had failed. Lita thought the rumor was aimed at her, to keep her from going out at night, but the other girls lacked her spirit and were very nervous. This all began before Adam returned. At least he cannot be accused of coercing young girls.”
“He never would.”
“No, I thought not. I got to know him when he and Pala became engaged and did not like seeing what was happening between my friend and Sammy. He pursued her from the moment Adam went back to the States when he was meant only to keep other men away. Gradually, she listened to him. Pala is devoted to the old ways, almost obsessed. Perhaps, Sammy was a better match for her since he aspired to be a matai, but I often thought Adam would never raise a hand to her and would treat her well. I was not so sure about Sammy.”
Winnie took a small mouthful of her vaisalo, not wanting to know how many calories it contained. “He had a violent streak?”
“Not that I noticed in my time here, but the same people who remember Adam’s easy nature recalled that he and Sammy were like different sides of the same coin when they played sports. Adam took his bruises well and blamed no one. Sammy would be sure to hit anyone who gave him an injury harder the next time. They all thought Sammy would be the one to go on to a big football career, but Adam worked harder. He had ambition that went beyond the needs of the village. To Pala, this was not a good thing. Sammy curbed his temper around her.”
Winnie stood to go. “I appreciate your telling me this. Could you direct me to where Pala lives? I would like to give my condolences.”
Lila described the house and its location in the village, and Winnie went to make her next call. The island princess sat on her gleaming brown haunches outside a squat light blue concrete block house with louvered doors and windows no different from any of the others. She wore only a simple white lava-lava and wove the fibers of the pandanus plant into a lengthy mat. Her fragrance drifted in the light breeze making Winnie wonder if she oiled those glistening thighs daily. Pala certainly possessed the whole feminine Samoan package, but Winnie had one thing this perfect woman did not possess—faith in Adam.
Winnie sat down cross-legged beside her and fluffed out her sundress. “I wanted to say I am sorry for your loss.”
Pala continued to weave. “Why? You did not like Sammy. He told me he tried to apologize to you for his insult that first day but you would not accept his words.”
Winnie still didn’t have all the Samoan customs nailed down, and so she simply said, “I will not speak ill of the dead. My grandmother taught me that,” instead of “your boyfriend hit on me.” She admired the mat. Drawing on the information from her travel guide, she asked, “Is that an ie toga in progress?”
“Yes, a fine mat. I was making it to present to Sammy’s family at our wedding. Few of the young girls want to learn the craft anymore. Now, I will give it to them at his funeral.”
“It is lovely like its weaver. When you are ready to move on, you will have no trouble finding another husband.” Might as well grease Pala up a little more.
The taupou nodded as if this compliment were her just due. “Yes, my family already talks of the possibilities, but first we will have a big fa’alavelave and put on a grand event for Sammy’s funeral. We will use the wedding goods as our gifts to his family since he was a junior matai. It will take a while to accumulate more.”
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“I hope I might still be here to pay my respects at the funeral. When will it be held?”
“Two weeks, probably. Relatives must come from all over and the gifts assembled.”
“I see.” Enough of the island small talk. Winnie got to her point. “Is Lita at home or is she at school? I’d like to speak to her as well.”
“Lita at school, ha! Why do you want to see her?” Pala raised her dark eyes from her weaving and pinned Winnie with a suspicious glare.
“I know Lila Tomanaga tried to get through to her about her bad habits and failed. I thought I might help.” Not Lita but Adam.
“You, a divorced woman who wants only a rich husband regardless of his lack of values. How could you do any good?”
Winnie swallowed that remark more bitter than raw cocoa. “I could tell her where I went wrong.” Her first wrong step, marrying Doug, who used her to get through medical school, just as Sammy would have used his marriage to the taupou to gain status. She should tell Pala she’d gotten a lucky break, but held back again.
Pala did not answer. She carefully set her work aside, rolled her mat, and took it inside the house. At first Winnie thought she’d been left to swelter in the sun without an answer, but the taupou returned. “She has been staying with her friend, Alisi, since the night Adam killed Sammy out of jealousy.”
“Innocent until proven guilty. We are in American Samoa, you know,” Winnie rebuked. “I do not believe jealousy was the motive.”
“Because Adam has a skinny palagi woman instead of me?” Pala released a harsh laugh.
Once more, Winnie curbed her words. “No, because Adam did not do the crime. Are you going tell to me where Alisi lives?”
“No, I intend to take you there. Anything I can do to set my sister on the right path I will do.”
Pala set off leaving Winnie to follow her undulating hips. Determined not to be led, Winnie caught up and took Pala’s hand in the friendly gesture often seen among the village girls. Pala stared at her as if she wanted to chew that hand off at the wrist, but Winnie held on and they continued through the village to its far end nearest the deserted stretch of beach. Outside another square house, Pala called her sister.