by Jane Peart
Kimo had been gone only a few months, and yet those days spent together on the beach, the days of childhood, and even the days of the Christmas before last when he had come home seemed a long time ago. They were fading even for her, who was trying to hold on to them. For Kimo, they may have disappeared entirely.
Chapter Thirteen
School was closed for Easter vacation. Jana was sitting at her desk reviewing her notes for a book report when there was a light tap on her bedroom door and her mother’s smiling face peered in. “Jana, Bayard Preston’s here.”
Jana frowned. What did he want? Probably just bored and lonely being at the ranch all by himself. With a sigh, she closed the book and got up. Passing her bureau mirror, she gave her hair a cursory pat. As she walked down the hall toward the porch, she heard her mother’s voice and Bayard’s deeper one. She hesitated a moment before joining them, determined to be cool, to not be taken in by his charm. Jana opened the screen door, walked out, and deliberately used the Hawaiian greeting. “Aloha.”
Bayard rose from the wicker chair. He looked crisp and handsome in a beige linen suit, polished boots, white shirt.
“Hello, Jana. I was just telling your mother I have to drive over to Kamuela and would love to have your company. We could have lunch at the hotel. Will you come?”
Her mother smiled encouragingly. Jana could see that Bayard had already convinced her that it would be a good idea. His look challenged, as if he suspected she was trying to think of an excuse.
“Why not, dear? It would be a nice break,” her mother suggested mildly. To Bayard she said, “Jana’s been working very hard, getting ready for exams and finishing her painting projects.”
“Then, an outing should be just what she needs,” Bayard said.
“I have a book report to write…,” Jana started to say, but that sounded indecisive and Bayard took the initiative.
“Do come, Jana. It will do you good.”
“Yes, dear, why don’t you?” urged her mother.
Caught between the two, she could think of no reasonable excuse. Nothing that wouldn’t sound rude. So she gave in and went to put on a fresh blouse and get her straw sailor hat.
Within minutes she found herself in his surrey, with his high-stepping horse trotting along the beach road toward Kamuela. Glancing over at Bayard’s handsome profile, Jana wondered again at the invitation. He was probably bored and at loose ends up at the ranch alone. She felt the same ambiguity about him she had felt at the Christmas house party. In the year since then, she had come to the conclusion that Bayard Preston was attractive but dangerous. She still thought so. Yet she had not forgotten how she had felt when he kissed her.
It was a perfect Hawaiian day. Cloudless blue skies, balmy breezes stirring the fringe of the surrey’s canvas top. All along the road, flowers of every kind and description were in bloom. Hibiscus, ginger, plumeria, and the feathery blossoms of the jacaranda trees scented the air with perfume.
It was only a short drive to Kamuela, and they were soon in the center of the small town.
“I have to stop at the bank, sign some business papers for my father. Do you mind waiting? It won’t take long, and then we’ll have lunch.”
“Not at all,” she replied as Bayard pulled the surrey into a shady spot across the street from the bank.
As she sat waiting, Jana tried to remember why she resented Bayard so much. It wasn’t that last angry confrontation in the Preston garden on New Year’s Day. At last she realized what it was. She still blamed him for Edith’s going away to finishing school. His urging his father to send her had really been a result of his own frustration, his ambiguity about his bicultural background.
Before she had thoroughly thought it through again, Bayard was back and they drove over to the oceanfront hotel. At the entrance, a hotel employee helped them from the surrey, then led the horse away. Bayard placed his hand under Jana’s elbow, and together they went up the wide steps to the veranda. Here white rush-bottom rocking chairs lined the long porch, and varicolored hibiscus trailed from baskets hung along the fretwork.
Although she had often admired the stately dignity of the impressive, white-pillared structure, Jana had never been inside. The Rutherfords did not move in the same kind of circles as the Prestons and never dined out. At the entrance to the dining room, the waiter greeted Bayard by name and suggested they take a table on the screened porch.
“Would you enjoy that?” Bayard asked.
A little overawed by the luxurious setting, Jana simply nodded. They were led out to a screened-in area overlooking a terraced garden of palms and winding paths among brilliant flower beds. A cooling breeze wafted gently in from the ocean. The waiter seated Jana, pulling out a white wicker chair and handing her a large menu, then quietly departed to a discreet distance to await their order.
The tablecloth and napkins were pale pink linen, and the water glasses sparkled like crystal. Jana noticed fashionably dressed men and women at the other tables. This was a part of island life she had rarely seen at close hand: people of wealth and leisure who lunched expensively at this exclusive place as a matter of course. Bayard, perfectly at ease and assured, was studying the menu.
So many choices were confusing, so Jana let Bayard order. After bringing them iced tea with mint sprigs and slices of lemon, the waiter went away. Jana began to relax and enjoy this new experience. She took a sip of her tea and murmured, “The view is lovely.”
“So is mine,” Bayard said, regarding her with amused eyes.
She ignored the flattery, discounting it as automatic—he’d had lots of social practice at that sort of remark. Deciding that his sister might be a safer topic of conversation, Jana asked, “So exactly when will Edith be coming home?”
Bayard shrugged. “When she gets bored with Newport, I suppose. As you may have noticed, my sister has a short attention span. But to answer your question, more than likely Father will insist she come back with him in a few weeks, and she’ll probably bring some of her friends.” He pulled a grimace. “A bunch of sillies, if I’ve ever seen any. All giggles, flirting, game playing!” He rolled his eyes. “Deliver me. Not an intelligent statement in any of them.”
“Ah, but isn’t that what you wanted Edith exposed to?” Jana demanded, feeling a bit of spiteful pleasure in turning the tables on him. “If I’m not mistaken, you said, ‘Edith needs to be with other kinds of people, not just Hawaiians.’”
Bayard frowned. “Now that I think about it, I admit I did say that—think that. I’d forgotten,” he admitted. “And that was before I’d met any of the young ladies at Millvale Hall!” He paused, then leaned his folded arms on the table. “I’d forgotten how refreshing it is to be with someone like you, Jana. Someone who’s forthright, natural, not afraid to have her own opinions.”
“Then, you’ve changed your mind about independent women?”
His frown deepened. “Is that something else I said that you’re quoting? Aha, I must have said something that really offended you, or you wouldn’t be bringing up this. Did I?”
The waiter arrived with their order, so she did not have to answer Bayard’s question. Perhaps it was all best forgotten anyhow.
Jana realized she was very hungry, and she picked up her fork and began to eat shrimp salad served in a melon shell garnished with pineapple spears and kiwi fruit. But Bayard leaned toward her. “You didn’t answer. So if I did hurt your feelings or anything, I’m very sorry.”
“It’s all right, Bayard. It doesn’t matter. I think I’m too sensitive sometimes.”
“Then I did. Just say you forgive me. You’re the last person I’d ever want to hurt.”
“Yes, it’s all right. I’m sure you have better things to think about than me.”
“You’re wrong, Jana. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. About you.” He lowered his voice. “When I saw you that Christmas, it was the first time since you were a little girl. Or at least it was the first time I’d really noticed you. I recognized s
omething in you. I didn’t know what it was that drew me, but I felt we had a bond I hadn’t realized before. It’s very strong, very powerful.”
“And that is?”
“Hawaii.”
She looked surprised.
“Down deep I have the same feeling you have. Born here but still a haole. It causes a kind of dual personality.” Bayard gave a self-deprecating little laugh. “Not that I’m one of those new scientific fellows that talk about childhood influences on the adult character. Most of that, I think, is a lot of rubbish. But Father sending me to the mainland at an impressionable age did have an effect on me. I felt caught between two worlds, actually. He did what he thought was best. Wanted me to get the kind of education he didn’t think was possible here on the island. For me, at least. Then I went on to Yale, still trapped in this dichotomy—” He halted suddenly. “I don’t know why I’m rattling on like this. I must be boring you to death.”
“No, you’re not. It’s very interesting—”
“You’re sure?”
Jana did not have a chance to respond to Bayard’s question, because the waiter came to check if everything was all right and if they wanted dessert.
At the same time, four gentlemen wearing white linen suits and Panama hats came out onto the porch and took seats at a table nearby. One of them, seeing Bayard, waved and then excused himself from his friends and came over to their table. Bayard introduced Jana, and the two men spoke for a few minutes about a business matter the man was arranging for Colonel Preston. When he left, Bayard and Jana did not pick up the thread of their conversation again. Jana was relieved. It was edging on too personal a tone.
Finished, they rose, and after Bayard had signed for the bill to be put on his father’s account, they left. Back in the surrey, on their way to Waimea, Bayard gave Jana a sidelong glance. “You’re not sorry you came, are you?”
“No, not really.” Thinking that might have sounded ambivalent, she added, “It was very nice of you to suggest it, to think of me.”
“I think about you a great deal, Jana. More often than you’d guess.”
Again she felt that this was leading to an exchange that might prove to be too personal, so she skirted around the subject, remarking on some particularly lovely anthuriums. “Oh look, I’d love to try to paint those.”
When they reached the Rutherfords’ cottage, he helped her down from the surrey, “When may I see you again? Tomorrow?”
She shook her head. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. I go to church and Sunday is our family day. I usually take Nathan to the beach, or we visit some of my parents’ friends.”
Bayard looked disappointed. “You said you might like to go riding? Remember?”
Jana hesitated. She wasn’t sure seeing Bayard again was a good idea.
However, he persisted as he walked her to the gate. “I’ll come by sometime in the middle of the week. We can make plans then. All right?”
“Mahalo,” she said, again deliberately using the Hawaiian word. She didn’t know exactly why, but it was almost as if she were testing Bayard.
“And you will think about going riding?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He seemed satisfied. Bayard Preston was used to getting his own way. He turned and went whistling back to his surrey. Jana went into the house.
Her mother lifted her head from her sewing and looked at her daughter with thoughtful eyes. “Did you have a nice time, dear?”
“Yes, it was lovely. Lunch was delicious.”
“Bayard is a handsome young man, isn’t he? And a perfect gentleman. You can certainly tell he has been educated on the mainland.”
“He says Edith won’t be home for another month,” Jana told her. “Bayard says Colonel Preston has gone to the mainland and they’ll return together. She’s visiting some school friends in Newport, Rhode Island.”
“Newport?” her mother repeated. “That’s a very fashionable resort for very wealthy people. Edith must be traveling with high society.”
Jana darted a quick look at her mother. Was there a tinge of regret in her voice? Jana knew that her mother had come from a fine old southern family. She had left it all to follow her idealistic husband west—to California first, then to Hawaii. She had probably had all the luxuries and refinements of a gentle upbringing in an affluent home. Did she miss it? Did she want that kind of life for her daughter?
Jana did not realize she was the object of her mother’s thoughtful speculation. Looking at Jana as she filled a glass of water from the cast-iron kitchen pump, JoBeth Rutherford thought about what a graceful, attractive young woman Jana was becoming. What exactly did the future hold for her here on the island? What did she hope for her daughter? Of course she wanted her to find love and happiness. But was it wrong to hope she would have a life easier than her own had been? She recalled her rather practical Aunt Jo Cady saying, “A woman can fall in love as easily with a wealthy man as a poor one.” But was that true? It was for Aunt Cady, evidently—Uncle Madison had been a prosperous lawyer. JoBeth herself had given no thought at all as to whether Wes was rich or poor. It hadn’t mattered. She had loved him with all her heart, and they had—in spite of everything—been happy.
But what about Jana? JoBeth felt sometimes that her daughter was a hopeless dreamer, impractical, romantic, given to fantasy. What would life hold for someone like her?
With a man like Bayard Preston, Jana would never lack anything. She’d have a beautiful home, clothes, every luxury, travel…the things a talented person like Jana would enjoy. There would be no financial worries, no scraping or scrimping.
Was Edith’s older brother becoming romantically interested in Jana? The question lingered tantalizingly.
Chapter Fourteen
On the Saturday before Easter, Jana assembled all the necessary implements to help Nathan dye three dozen eggs for the Easter party the Rutherfords held every year. They had hard-boiled them the evening before and let them cool overnight.
“Now’s the fun part!” the little boy said eagerly as he watched Jana spread newspaper on the kitchen table, place the bowls filled with food coloring in a row of red, blue, yellow, and green.
“That’s right,” she smiled, getting out two big spoons for them to use for dipping the eggs. She had also brought her paint box and brushes and a glass jar of water, to add designs and finishing touches when the colored eggs were dry.
“The next fun part will be hiding them, won’t it, Jana?”
“Yes, and Papa has promised to help so you won’t know where all the eggs are and get them all and fill your basket before anyone else!” she laughed, tousling her little brother’s hair.
“That wouldn’t be fair,” he declared, but his eyes sparkled and his grin was mischievous.
“No, it wouldn’t.”
The process of dyeing took both of them over an hour, and Nathan soon tired of the tedious job.
“When do we get to paint on flowers and stuff?” he asked Jana.
“I guess you could start on some of the first ones we did. They should be dry by now.” Jana tested the first half dozen with one finger. Satisfied that they were ready for the additional decoration, she got Nathan set up at one end of the table, then sat down beside him to get him started. She was painting some daisies on the shell of one, when Nathan suddenly flung down his brush in frustration, spattering paint.
“Mine are awful, Jana! Next to yours, they look terrible!”
“No, they don’t! Not at all. Here, let me show you. You’re doing just fine. You have to be patient, that’s all.”
“But yours are so much prettier. That’s because you’re an artist. Everyone says so.”
“Well, maybe. I guess so, but yours are special, because you are doing them yourself. Mine are different, not better,” she consoled him.
“Did you always know you were an artist, Jana? Even when you were little—my age?”
“I always liked to draw and paint,” she replied.
“So you did kno
w you wanted to be an artist when you grew up?”
“I guess so.”
“I know what I’m going to be when I grow up,” Nathan said firmly.
“What’s that? A teacher like Papa?”
He shook his head vigorously. “No! A builder and woodworker like Kimo.”
Surprised, Jana looked at him. “Like Kimo?”
“Yes. I miss Kimo. When is he coming back?”
“I’m not sure,” Jana answered, thinking about how long Kimo had been gone and how long it had been since she’d heard from him. “Soon, I hope.”
“I love Kimo,” Nathan said matter-of-factly.
Jana gave him a hug, saying to herself, I do, too.
Easter morning dawned brilliant with sunshine, the air sweetly fragrant with flowers and filled with the sound of church bells. Jana had a new bonnet, a new blouse, and a new prayer book. After an early breakfast and while her mother went to get dressed, Jana got Nathan buttoned into a white sailor suit. It was rather stiff and he squirmed uncomfortably, making the job almost impossible. However, in the end, with his curls slicked down and a blue silk scarf tied neatly, he looked almost cherubic. Then the whole family walked the short distance to the small church where they worshiped.
It had dozens of twins all over the island, with the same tiny porch, peaked roof, and bell tower. Pink anthuriums bloomed on either side of the steps leading inside, and cala lilies were clustered in profusion on the altar. The Rutherfords settled into their regular pew just as the choir marched in to the chords of the small organ. The congregation rose to its feet, joining in the opening hymn, which was first sung in Hawaiian, then in English.
“Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, heaven and earth are filled with your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he of Israel who comes in the name of the Lord.”
The voices lifted up, mellow and clear, and enveloped Jana in a lovely peace. The beautiful words swept her up into their meaning. In whatever language the praise is sung, she thought, it must be a sweet sound in the Lord’s ear. All over the world, in all different tongues, believers are greeting the risen Savior, King of Kings, Lord of Lords.