Primitive Secrets

by Deborah Turrell Atkinson

  “I’ll be happy to, Marianne. What flight will you be on?” Storm wrote down the information, but her mind was on what Marianne had just said. Marianne had mentioned that Bitsy left her house, which was in Hilo, in the morning. The desk clerk at the Hilo airport had told Storm that Bitsy had left Kona in the afternoon. Pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place.

  “Um, she, uh…left her bag because she was upset about Uncle Miles’s death?” Storm asked.

  “No, we didn’t even know yet. What a day that was! She left to meet Martin and his friend. They called from one of those big hotels in Kona. No one even knew he was here,” Marianne said. “Bitsy found out about Miles after she landed in Honolulu.”

  Marianne’s last sentences bounced around Storm’s stupefied brain cells. Martin had not only been in the Islands without telling anyone, he had been in Kona when Uncle Miles died. And he told Storm that he got his tan on the beaches in Chicago. The little weasel.

  “Storm? You there?”

  “Uh…I swallowed my coffee wrong.” She coughed a few times and drew a deep breath. “I’m okay, now. Were they at the Lani Wai Resort? It’s such a nice place.”

  “No, I think the one down the coast a bit. You know, the one with private bungalows. The Hualalai. That’s how we knew it was a special friend.” Marianne chuckled.

  “Bitsy knew about him?” Storm asked.

  “Martin let her in on the secret a couple weeks ago. He was terrified of telling his father, though, and Bitsy was trying to help him, encourage him,” Marianne said.

  “Why was Bitsy out of sorts Friday morning, though?”

  “I’m not sure. Martin’s call got her all upset. The boys had been planning to go to Honolulu to tell Miles the whole story when he died. Such a sad thing.” Marianne sighed. “I’ve got a call coming through. See you Friday, okay?”

  Storm hung up the phone and dialed the number Martin had left the receptionist. She got Chris DeLario’s answering machine and left a message for Martin to call her back. She was rubbing her temples and staring at her desktop when Meredith Wo knocked at her door.

  “Storm, what’s the news on that contract?” Wo asked.

  “He’ll call me about it tomorrow. He’s doing us a big favor since he’s two weeks behind on state work. A couple of people are on vacation.”

  Irritation crossed Wo’s face and her eyes narrowed. “When tomorrow? This is a billion-dollar project. And it’s probably where that nerd gets his medical care.”

  Storm glared at her. “Everyone who brings a contract to this nerd has a billion-dollar project.”

  Meredith snorted, then handed Storm a thick file. “I need you to go to the U.H. law library.”

  Storm took the folder. “I’ll do it first thing tomorrow morning. I have a meeting this afternoon.” She glanced at her watch and prayed that Hamlin didn’t choose that moment to come through her door. It was ten of three.

  “Storm, your procrastination may be a problem for you here in the firm.”

  Storm drew in a long breath and began to count to ten. She got to four. “What procrastination, Meredith?” she snapped. “I keep careful records of your requests and how long I take to get your work back to you. Would you like to look over the last week?” She prayed that Wo didn’t.

  “We’ll talk about this later. With the partners.” Meredith walked briskly away.

  Storm stared after the woman’s vapor trail. The last few days, Meredith had been acting like Tonya Harding on steroids. Did she suspect that Hamlin and Storm were having a fling?

  The silk of Storm’s blouse stuck to her sweating sides like sliding wallpaper. One thing was sure; she didn’t need any more conflict right now. She was starting to feel like she had one foot in her mouth and one sinking in quicksand. She was afraid to take a step for fear of burying herself in errors or finding out something that she was scared to know. Martin’s deception hung even heavier on her mind than Meredith’s threat.

  “You look like you’ve been through a shitstorm.” Hamlin leaned against the doorframe.

  “Let’s get outta here.” Storm used both hands to push herself to her feet.

  “Okay. I already picked up my clothes.” He held up a gym bag.

  “My stuff is in my car. I’ll drive,” Storm said.

  “You sure? You look like you could use a rest.”

  “Let’s just go. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

  Chapter 32

  Storm drove in silence until the freeway ended at Kalanianaole Highway. She ignored Hamlin’s curious glances. At the first red light she drew a deep breath.

  “Did you know that Chris and Martin were on the Big Island when Hamasaki died?” she asked. From her peripheral vision, she saw Hamlin’s jaw muscles flex. Shit, he knew.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just found out. I was talking to Chris when you came into the office this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

  “You were in a hurry, so I thought I’d wait until we were outdoors, in the soothing company of pigs.”

  Storm cracked a small smile. “The pigs are behind fences. We’re going to be up on the slopes of the Ko’olau Mountains.”

  “Okay. That’s where I was going to talk to you.”

  “Talk to me now. Why did Chris wait until today to phone you?”

  “I phoned him.”

  Storm frowned and turned her head to stare at him. “Why? I thought you didn’t know they were in Hawai’i when Hamasaki died.”

  “He was being evasive and I had some questions about his recent blood test.”

  Dread crept from Storm’s fingertips up her arms.

  “I’ve seen him like that before.” Hamlin’s voice drifted off. His eyes narrowed, unfocused, on the distance.

  Storm felt a jolt of fear for Martin and a surge of sorrow for Hamlin and his friend. “How sick is he?”

  “He’s HIV positive, but not sick. Not yet.” He looked over at Storm. “And he told Martin. They’ve been careful.”

  “Oh, God, Ian. I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too.” He sighed. “The drugs are better now than when Neil died. No one even understood the virus, then.” He stared out the windshield.

  Storm had passed through Hawai’i Kai and was at the road’s high point above Hanauma Bay. She followed Hamlin’s gaze out over the extinct volcanic crater, half-collapsed millions of years ago and filled with azure water and spectacular reef life. It was an underwater park, a favorite of tourists from around the world. Every time she drove by, she slowed down to relish the panorama. She rolled down her window and let the salty breeze pass through the car. Hamlin lowered his, too.

  “I never tire of this route,” he said. The muscles of his face relaxed and the breeze ruffled his hair. “Thanks for bringing me along. I needed this.”

  “Me, too.” She breathed in the briny air. A strong summer swell pounded the lava cliffs below them and sent billows of salt spray drifting over the sinuous road.

  By the time she and Hamlin had rounded the point at Makapu’u and wound their way along the coast to Waimanalo, she had told Hamlin about Wo’s threats. He waved his hand. “Don’t worry. Wang may be a pawn, but Cunningham is wise to them and he likes you.”

  “He does?” Storm remembered his leg against hers and his scotch-laden breath. She had been sure she’d burned her bridges in that department.

  Hamlin looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, he respects you. And the word is out that Ray Tam has asked you to do some work for the union.”

  “Boy, no secrets on an island.”

  “I guess not.” His voice was heavy.

  Storm looked over at him, but he was staring out the window again. Before she could say anything, he pointed out the turnoff she’d asked him to watch for.

  Someone had dumped gravel into some of the deep ruts of the
dirt lane to make it more passable, but it still was like driving in deep sand, then rock-strewn dust, then another gravel pit. They passed a nursery on their right, fields of purple dendrobium orchids protected from the full onslaught of the sun by semi-transparent tarps. After the nursery, banana trees lined both sides of the road and sheltered the land from the trade winds that had blown so briskly along the south shore.

  Storm crept, hunched over the steering wheel, and hoped that the frame of her old car would hold up to abuse for the second time this week. Dust rose and coated the windshield, making it even harder to see what was in front of her. It was some consolation that someone had passed along the road not long before them; she could follow the cloud of silt that hung in the sluggish air. But Storm eyed the woods covering the base of the mountains ahead and remembered the strange creature she saw on the last herb-gathering outing she’d taken. Anxiety about traipsing off into the taro fields flooded her.

  They bounced along another mile and a half before they saw a shack, then a small single-wall house. A sow that weighed at least five hundred pounds stood in the front lawn. Her teats hung nearly to the ground and she merely glanced toward the car when Storm applied her noisy parking brake. The hog had more important things to attend to. Bebe was scratching her ears.

  Hamlin peered through the dusty windshield at the huge animal. “I thought you said they’d be in pens.”

  Storm shrugged. “Must be a pet.”

  “A guard pig, sumo-sized,” he muttered. “I’m glad you don’t have one of those.”

  Bebe waved at them, her brown face a collection of laugh lines. Hamlin grinned in spite of himself.

  “Sam will be right out. He went after some coconut husk.” She gestured to the pig. “Hortense has mastitis.

  Storm, you’re going to stay with me and help make a poultice for her while the men pick the noni.”

  Storm felt a rush of relief tinged with irritation at being told what to do. Bebe certainly was bossy. However, now she wouldn’t have to go tramping through muddy, flooded terraces, worrying about improbable hairy creatures. And perhaps she would learn some healing tips from Bebe, which would make the trip even more worthwhile.

  “How many babies is she nursing?” Storm asked.

  “Thirteen,” said Bebe.

  “Ouch,” said Hamlin.

  Bebe laughed and held out her hand to Hamlin. Storm introduced them. She could see Bebe’s eyes, still sparkling with amusement, sweep over the man. “Thanks for helping out. We’ve had rain and the paths are slippery, so it’s better if Sam doesn’t go alone.” She took in the expensive suit and loosened tie, then pointed to the bag he carried. “You better change. Go on in the house.”

  When Hamlin and Storm came back out in their old sneakers and shorts, Bebe and Sam were rubbing the sow’s belly. Hortense, who lay on her side, looked as if she were smiling despite three red, tender-looking teats.

  Sam stood up and offered his hand to Storm, then Hamlin. He had a tanned face with a strong, broad Hawaiian nose and liquid black eyes. His dark, wavy hair was streaked with gray and pulled back with a faded bandana. The seat of his denim overalls was white where it had been worn to single threads.

  He grinned at Hamlin, pulled some berries from his pocket, and held them in a rough, callused paw, the hand of a farmer. “We gone look for these, yeah? They mostly past the kalo terraces, see?” He pointed down a narrow, muddy dike, a raised path between flooded taro fields. “Where the path run out, we need climb a little more. Then we see the shrubs. Little guys.” He held his hand a couple feet above the ground. “Try pick some leaves, too, yeah?”

  Hamlin took a few berries and examined a leaf. “I’ll follow you.”

  Storm looked at the berries in Hamlin’s soft, clean hands and felt a surge of apprehension. What had she led Hamlin into? The sun was dropping fast behind the Ko’olau Mountains and the Waimanalo farm would soon be deep in shadow.

  Get a grip, she told herself. Hamlin was with Sam, who knew this land better than she knew the floor plan in her cottage. Plus, that strange beast she’d seen on the Big Island was hundreds of miles away. She shifted her purse under her arm. She’d stuffed her stockings into it and with the ‘aamakaa she’d forgotten to take out, the bag was nearly bursting. Everything poked out of the open zipper.

  Bebe pointed to the ‘aamakaa. “That’s an old one. Pua‘a, the pig. May I look?”

  Storm nodded. “He was my great-grandmother’s. Aunt Maile gave him to me yesterday.”

  “Really?” Bebe pulled it out a bit, then looked at Storm, her dark eyes bright. “Your aunt’s a wise woman.” Bebe nestled it carefully back into Storm’s purse and shot a glance toward the men. “We need to talk,” she said softly to Storm.

  ***

  Hamlin and Storm took their work clothes to the car and Storm bent the front seat forward so that they could drape their good clothes over the back seat with minimal wrinkling. Hamlin even found a coat hanger stuck between the seat cushions and draped his suit pants over it. Storm jiggled her bulging handbag down into the narrow spot behind the driver’s seat, out of the way of Hamlin’s neatly arranged clothing.

  Storm’s eyes followed him as he trailed Sam along a slippery, dike-like path between irrigated taro patches. Grass-covered, it was barely wide enough to go single file and the walls of the passage fell steeply into muddy water. As she watched them disappear, Bebe spoke.

  “What do you know about your friend?”

  The two women moved towards Hortense, who lay snoozing on her side a few feet away. Bebe sat on a little stool while Storm squatted next to a bowl on the ground and stirred water into the ashes of a burned coconut husk.

  “A lot. Why?” Storm bristled at the question. “Should I add more water to this paste?”

  Bebe splashed in a few tablespoons and went on, oblivious to Storm’s tone. “You work together, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He from the mainland?”

  Storm looked over at Bebe. She squelched the “duh” and said, “Yes.”

  “City person, yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like you are these days, yeah?”

  Storm glared outright at Bebe. “Yes, that’s where I work.”

  Bebe raised one eyebrow at Storm. “Your aunt told me about what you saw on the mountain that day.”

  “We don’t know what it was.” Storm sat back on her heels. “I was kind of upset about other things at the time.”

  Bebe just nodded. “That paste is perfect. See how it clings to the skin?” Bebe put a bit on her own arm, smelled it, checked the color, and smiled. She dabbed a spot on Storm’s arm where a mosquito had bitten her. “Feel better?”

  Storm attempted a smile. “Yeah, it does.”

  “Let’s see how Hortense likes it.” Bebe smiled at her. “Remember Hortense from Dr. Seuss?”

  “The elephant that sat on the egg?”

  “Yup. Couple years ago, Hortense nursed six kittens. Their momma got hit by a car on the highway.” Bebe pointed in the direction of the road that ran along the ocean, the same one Storm and Hamlin had driven. “Hortense wasn’t much more than a teenager herself.”

  “Is that one of the kittens?” Storm pointed at a fat gray tiger who sat grooming himself under a nearby tree.

  “Maybe. I can’t keep all of Sam’s animals straight. You’ll have to ask him.” Bebe stood up slowly and walked over to Hortense, who lay resting in the grass. Storm followed with the bowl of paste. “You could ask Sam about some of those old legends, too. He’ll be very interested in hearing about what you saw.”

  “My imagination got the best of me that day. It was rainy, foggy, and we were halfway up a volcano that’s steeped in old myths.”

  Bebe spread the paste gently on the sow’s tender underbelly. Hortense gave a big sigh and Storm thought her mouth turned up at the corners. “Tell me more,” Bebe urged. Stifling imp
atience, Storm took them both through that misty morning, ending with her finding Aunt Maile sidelined in the barbed wire and their speculations about the eerie events. It took much longer than she expected. Her irritability must have showed.

  “Listen to what your aunt tells you. She’s a wise woman.” The edge in Bebe’s voice made Hortense raise her head and flick her ears.

  Storm gritted her teeth. “I always—”

  A shrill scream rent the air, a shriek that made the hair on both women’s arms stand on end. Storm leaped to her feet. Bebe was beside her, a light hand on Storm’s arm.

  “Hamlin,” Storm cried out. “Ian!” she shouted, louder.

  “He’s with Sam.”

  Storm didn’t find that fact as reassuring as Bebe obviously did. Someone was in trouble behind the kalo terraces.

  Both women jogged toward the watery fields. Storm, just ahead of Bebe, scanned the area for signs of movement. The wide, lush taro leaves swayed placidly above the muddy water. A mynah bird hopped along the trail between the patches, then took flight when Storm splashed through a mud puddle and onto the narrow path.

  Bebe was less than ten feet behind. “Careful, it’s slippery.”

  “Right,” Storm said and slowed slightly.

  On the other side of the irrigated terraces, the path widened a few inches and the women increased their pace. Tree roots snarled the trail, their sinews criss-crossing the path like bulging veins. Storm jogged along, her gaze bobbing from placing her feet to watching for the two men. “Ian,” she called. “Sam?”

  Bebe’s footsteps sounded behind, but Storm could also hear movement through the foliage ahead of her. With a flood of relief, she caught a flash of white clothing. Both men had been wearing white shirts. “Ian,” she shouted and dashed ahead.

  She never even saw the root that caught the toe of her sneaker. When she went down, she skidded for half a foot on her belly, plowed her chin into the soil, and bit her tongue so hard that her eyes watered from the pain. She lay for a moment, stunned. When her eyes cleared, she got to her hands and knees and stared at the muddy path a few inches from her face.