by Joe Weber
Brad chuckled softly.
"What's so funny?"
"Well," he began, carefully choosing his words, "that wouldn't have been a bad idea, but the truth is that our encounter was pure dumb luck on my part."
She smiled serenely. "Your luck is still holding. My parents just walked in for breakfast."
Brad stood and shook hands with the handsome couple when he was introduced. Both parents were friendly and cordial as Brad seated Mrs. Ladasau and returned to his chair.
Leigh Ann explained who Brad was, how they had met on the beach, and then explained that he and his friends were on leave while their ship was being repaired. She also told her parents that Brad had been stationed on Oahu, and had offered to be a tour guide for the family.
Doctor Ladasau casually studied Brad. "Do you come from a family with a military tradition?"
"Yes, sir," Brad replied uncomfortably. "I am a third-generation graduate of the Naval Academy. My father is a vice admiral, and my grandfather is a retired rear admiral."
The doctor continued to quiz Brad. He was reserved, obviously scrutinizing this young man who had asked his daughter to breakfast and had offered a tour of the island.
When Brad reiterated his offer to drive the family around the island, Dr. Ladasau thanked him but declined the invitation, explaining that he had a tennis match with a colleague. Mrs. Ladasau also graciously declined, suggesting that Leigh Ann and Brad did not need to be dragging around old fogies.
Blushing, Brad stood when Leigh Ann neatly folded her napkin on the table and rose. Reaching for his check, Brad was unprepared when the doctor slid it to his side of the table.
"Please allow us, Captain," he said, casting a warning glance at his daughter. "You and Leigh Ann have a pleasant tour."
Catching the intimating look, Brad expressed his thanks and escorted Leigh Ann to the lobby. He suggested that she bring a bathing suit and a pair of sunglasses. They set a time to meet in the lobby, then Brad hurried across Kalakaua Avenue to a car-rental franchise. He selected a white Mustang convertible, and drove to the Royal Hawaiian.
Back in the suite, Palmer was showering while Lunsford was shaving. Dressed and ready to go, Hutton was lying peacefully on one of the sofas. He had donned his bright yellow-and-purple aloha shirt.
"Harry," Brad offered, trying to keep a straight face, "you look dashing."
Lunsford yelled from the bathroom. "I thought you couldn't be a RIO if you were color-blind. Guess Harry slipped through." "Where the hell have you been?" Hutton asked, not waiting for an answer. "Better get your shit together, your Captaincy, 'cause we're going trolling."
"I've already got a date," Brad replied, yanking open his section of the dresser drawer. He grabbed his swimming suit and his military-issue sunglasses. "I'm taking that brunette--the one who was in the lounge yesterday--on a tour of the island."
Hutton snickered. "Don't bullshit me."
"I'm serious."
"How'd you get a date with her?" Lunsford asked, wiping the shaving cream from his face.
"I met her on the beach. We had breakfast together."
Lunsford leaned around the corner. "You're talking about the knockout . . . the one who looks like a twenty-year-old version of Elizabeth Taylor?"
"One and the same," Brad replied as he grabbed two thick towels and hurried to the door. "Have a great day, boys."
Chapter 17.
With the trade winds tousling their hair, Brad and Leigh Ann motored along Diamond Head Road, taking in the sights of Kupikipikio Point and Maunalua Bay.
"Brad," Leigh Ann paused, looking back at the volcanic crater, "how did Diamond Head get its name?"
"Some of the pioneer sailors found glittering coral-encrusted crystals on the side of the crater, so they named the formation Diamond Head."
Leigh Ann turned slightly in her seat, facing Brad. "You are a good tour guide," she smiled.
Brad grinned. "It's my pleasure, I can assure you."
They continued past Hawaii Kai to the Koko Head Crater and stopped at Hanauma Bay. Brad pulled off the side of the main highway and parked near the scenic overlook.
Leigh Ann was mesmerized by the tranquility of the sparkling bay. "Brad, this is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen."
"I thought you would like it," he answered, silently thinking that the woman next to him was every bit as lovely as the setting.
"I think it's one of the most peaceful, serene locations on the island."
They watched the snorklers swimming among the thousands of brightly colored tropical fish in the warm, crystal-clear waters. Fishing had been prohibited in the cozy bay, turning the flooded volcanic crater into a giant seaquarium.
Leigh Ann smiled at him. "I had no idea the rest of Oahu was so . . . I don't know . . . dissimilar and beautiful."
"Yes, it would be a pity not to get beyond the Waikiki area, which is not representative of the entire island."
They passed Makapuu Point and Waimanalo Beach. When they reached the outskirts of Kailua, Brad pulled in front of a small restaurant overlooking Kailua Bay, where scores of colorful sailboats tacked back and forth across the placid, greenish blue water.
Brad got out of the convertible and walked around to open Leigh Ann's door. "This used to be one of my favorite restaurants when I was stationed at Kaneohe."
"For the food, or for the view?"
"Both," he replied, holding the door open. He examined the bay. "The view hasn't changed."
"I'm sure the food is still excellent, too." They sat on the open-air porch and ordered.
"Your father," Brad said, carefully selecting his words, "left me with the impression that he isn't very fond of the military, or perhaps he doesn't care for me."
"My father," she replied with a trace of frustration, "is a dyed-in-the-wool antiwar sentimentalist, especially the Vietnam War. I love him very much, but he sometimes embarrasses me." She glanced down. "I apologize for his . . . coolness."
"No apology needed," Brad chuckled. "I don't agree with the war either."
"You don't?"
"No," Brad replied, growing serious. "Our military commanders don't start wars, but when they are ordered to fight a war, they should be allowed to win . . . in minimum time, and with the least amount of casualties."
"I'm not sure I understand. Why would we be in Vietnam if we weren't trying to win?"
"Because," Brad replied, attempting to conceal his contempt, "the Johnson administration won't listen to their military commanders, or let them do their jobs. Johnson and McNamara dole out targets on a piecemeal basis, with the mistaken belief that the Communists will see the futility of their aggression and come to the peace table."
Leigh Ann's look registered her concern. "What's going to happen?"
"Well, I suspect that the administration will continue to bungle along, until someone faces the facts of war. The North Vietnamese won't give up until we destroy their capability to wage war."
"Aren't we doing that now?"
"To a degree," Brad answered uncomfortably, "under the current rules of engagement. But we aren't going to win the war until our military is allowed to attack all of the airfields, power plants, transportation systems, military installations, port facilities, war industries, and other targets in major population center."
Leigh Ann frowned. "What a horrible thing . . . war." "Yes, it is," he sighed, glancing at the bay.
Leigh Ann studied Brad. "What's it like to be a jet-fighter pilot, and fly from the decks of ships?"
Unprepared for the question, Brad searched for an answer that would not offend her sensitivity. "Leigh Ann, flying is fun for me, whether I'm in a fighter, or rolling and looping an aerobatic biplane. Flying from a carrier, especially at night, is the most exhilarating and terrifying experience I've ever had. The sensations and visceral fear are difficult to describe."
He paused, carefully phrasing his words. "You would have to ride through a cat shot and a one-hundred-fifty-mile-an-hour trap--arrest
ed landing--to know what the brain and body experience."
"I'm sorry," Leigh Ann smiled, "but I don't believe I would care to experience the feeling."
Brad chuckled. "That's probably valid thinking." Cautiously, Leigh Ann began to ask the questions that had piqued her curiosity since breakfast. "Where are you from .. .
where do you call home?"
Without removing his eyes from Leigh Ann's delicate face, Brad thought about the past Christmas. Because of the animosity between his father and himself, which had developed into an unspoken estrangement, Brad had elected to forego future trips home. His mother, who had not been pleased with his decision, had understood the reason for Brad's resoluteness. His father was not accustomed to having people thwart his wishes.
"Well, I was born in San Diego, grew up all over the world, and would have to say that my home is the aircraft carrier."
Leigh Ann sensed that there was something more lying just below the surface. Something about his family that Brad Austin did not care to discuss.
He glanced at the sailboats and then looked up at a section of marine F-4s departing Kaneohe Bay Air Station. "That's what I fly."
Leigh Ann followed the thundering jets until the fighter pilots had deselected their afterburners. "What kind of airplanes are those?"
Brad turned back to Leigh Ann. "Fighter-bombers. It's officially called the F-4 Phantom, but it has earned various nicknames in the past couple of years."
"It sure is impressive . . . mean looking," she said, turning to watch the two fighters climb out of sight, "and loud."
"That it is," he replied as the luncheon appetizers were delivered to their table. "Would you care for a glass of wine with your lunch?"
"That would be nice."
Brad ordered a glass of the house white wine for each of them.
They drank a toast to Hawaii and to the beautiful weather. "This looks scrumptious," Leigh Ann said as she raised her fork. "Do you know what type of fish these are?"
"Sure," he replied, turning to look at her meal. "That's mahimahi at the top of your plate. To the left is ahi, which is a yellowfin tuna. On the right is opakapaka, a variety of snapper. Below is a king mackerel . . . and I'm sure you have the center section figured out."
"Yes," Leigh Ann laughed. "Shrimp."
Brad ate slowly and sipped his wine. He waited until she had finished a bite before asking a question. "What are your plans for the future?"
Leigh Ann placed her fork thoughtfully on her plate. "Well, I would like to pursue my master's, and, hopefully, find a good teaching position."
Brad nodded. "You seem to have a clear goal in mind." "What about you?" she asked, raising her glass. "What are your plans for the future? Do you intend to make the Marine Corps a career?"
Brad looked into his wine glass. "I don't have any answers at the moment. Right now, due to our rudderless administration in Washington, I'm concentrating on getting through the next couple of months."
She detected a pronounced degree of antagonism in his normally affable voice. "So, do you have any brothers and sisters?"
"It's my turn to apologize," Brad said, realizing that he had let his hostilities invade the conversation. "I didn't mean to sound bitter."
"That's okay," Leigh Ann replied with a sincerity that surprised Brad. "I understand . . . I really do, Brad."
He smiled with a trace of embarrassment. "Yes, to answer your question, I have one older brother. He's in the navy, serving on a combat stores ship."
"Did he attend the academy, too?"
"Yes, he did," Brad said with obvious pride. "He is three years older, and helped me learn the ropes before he graduated. What about you? Any siblings to rival with?"
Leigh Ann grinned. "Yes, and we do have our moments of . . . let's say, misunderstandings."
Brad nodded.
"Eleanor, who is a senior in high school this year, is going through the rebellious stage." Leigh Ann smiled wryly. "That's why she stayed home . . . so the three of us could have some peace and quiet."
Brad laughed.
After lunch, they decided to save the swim for Waikiki Beach. Brad had suggested that they take the highway past the Nuuanu Pali. The drive through the Koolau Mountain Range would take them directly back to the outskirts of Honolulu.
Caught in an afternoon rain shower, they had to stop four miles from downtown Honolulu and raise the convertible top. They dove back into the shelter of the car, and Brad grabbed the towels from the backseat. He unfolded one of the thick pink towels and softly dried Leigh Ann's face.
"Thank you," she said laughingly, then reached for the other towel. "Your turn."
She patted his face dry, stopping when he took her hands and gently kissed her. Leigh Ann did not resist, returning the kiss with affection. "Is that part of your normal island tour?"
Brad grinned. "No . . . it's hard to schedule the rain."
She chuckled and softly kissed his cheek. "We better get back, before there's a cloudburst."
Brad nodded and placed the car in gear, then pulled back onto the highway. He reached for Leigh Ann's hand, gently folding her fingers in his. She smiled and moved closer to him.
Arriving back at the Royal Hawaiian, he walked Leigh Ann into the lobby.
"Brad," she said warmly, "I thoroughly enjoyed our outing .. . even the soaking."
"It was my pleasure," he replied, then laughed. "I don't mean getting you wet was a pleasure."
She shifted her beach bag. "I really do appreciate that wonderful drive."
"Well, Leigh Ann," Brad said with an impish look, "since I managed to get your hair wet, we might as well go for the swim we planned."
"Okay, but how about a ride in one of the outrigger canoes first?"
"Wonderful idea," he answered. "I'll meet you on the beach in fifteen minutes."
"You're on," she replied gaily. "See you in a few minutes."
Brad returned the automobile and hurried back to the hotel, thrilled to be spending more time with this beautiful woman.
Changing into his swimming suit, Brad thought about the small amount of time he would have with Leigh Ann before she had to leave. Feeling an intense desire to be with her, he was considering the possibility of asking her to stay longer. He would be more than happy to pay for her room and associated expenses but doubted that her father would allow it.
Brad walked out to the beach just as Leigh Ann, wearing a provocative white bikini, came to join him. He found it difficult not to stare at her stunning figure. She was trim and shapely with beautifully tanned skin. Her scant top showed a hint of cleavage that accentuated her tiny waist and narrow hips. Her legs were the most beautiful he had ever seen.
Snapping himself out of his trance, Brad took Leigh Ann's hand and helped her board an outrigger canoe. They paddled out beyond the breakers, then turned and raced down the waves. After three more exhilarating round-trips they returned to the beachfront.
Weaving their way through the sunbathers, they walked hand in hand through the hot sand to the hotel. "Would you care for something to drink?" Brad asked, admiring Leigh Ann's tanned face.
"Sure," she smiled demurely. "A Blue Hawaii sounds good to me."
Brad ordered two of the specialty drinks. The day was going so well, he thought he would try to keep it going longer. He caught Leigh Ann's eyes. "At the risk of pushing my luck, will you have dinner with me this evening?"
Leigh Ann turned to face Brad. "I would be pleased to have dinner with you."
"Great."
"However," Leigh Ann continued, "I have an obligation I have to fulfill first. My parents are expecting me to attend a small dinner party with friends of theirs from medical school."
"That's fine," Brad said as the tropical drinks were placed on the table. "We'll have a late dinner."
She laughed softly. "Better than that. I'll have a glass of wine, a few hors d'oeuvres, then explain that I have a dinner date with an irresistible pilot."
Sipping his drink, Brad swallowe
d wrong, almost choking at the unexpected comment. He coughed twice, then excused himself.
"Are you okay?" Leigh Ann asked with genuine concern.
Brad nodded and took a long pull on his straw. "I'm fine." He swallowed again, clearing his throat. He hoped the redness on his face would also clear. "You're really amazing."
Leigh Ann looked at him over the top of her tall drink. "Amazing?"
"Yes," Brad answered, reaching for her hand. "You appear to be reserved and unapproachable, but you're really the most down-to-earth, uncomplicated person I've met in a long time."
"Why, thank you, Captain Austin."
Chapter 18.
Brad waited in the hotel lobby, trying to pass the time reading a lengthy article about the history of the Hawaiian Islands. Nick Palmer, Russ Lunsford, and an obviously inebriated Harry Hutton had stumbled in at a quarter past five. They had met three United Airlines stewardesses who were going to a luau with them. Harry talked incessantly about the virtues of the blond "trophy" he had snared. He said they were going to a Polynesian feast of food, drink, and wild sex. And off they went, guiding Harry down the hallway.
Brad was startled when Leigh Ann walked up to the side of his high-backed chair.
"Expecting someone, flyboy?" she asked as Brad leaped to his feet. Perfectly coiffed, Leigh Ann was wearing a pale yellow spaghetti-strap dress and off-white sandals.
"You look beautiful," said Brad, reaching down for the plumeria leis he had purchased in the hotel flower shop. "I thought you might enjoy some fresh flowers."
"Brad, they're gorgeous. Thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied, carefully slipping one of the leis over Leigh Ann's head. Her fragrance was stimulating. He kissed her lightly on the cheek.
Placing the other wreath of flowers over Brad's head, she hesitated a moment, then returned the kiss. "You're a nice guy, Brad Austin."
"I'll bet you say that to all the guys," he replied, taking her hand as they walked out of the lobby. "How was the dinner party?" "It was fine, but I was anxious to leave."
Brad arched his eyebrow. "You were?"
"Yes," she squeezed his hand and captured his eye. "I wanted to be with you."