by Eve Gaal
* * *
Chapter Eighty-One
The drive from the airport looked like the proverbial back of the moon. Crusty lava rocks covered both sides of the road in stark contrast to the lush landscape she had recently enjoyed on Kauai. No trees, she thought, wondering if they had burned down with the volcano eruption. Maybe she had flown through some bizarre pixilation zone shared by an alternate galaxy, like those she read about in science fiction novels. When a car finally passed, she felt mildly relieved–good, she thought, she might still be on her home planet.
Yawning, Penny couldn't wait to check in and get a good night's sleep. Slowly, she drove down a long dusty driveway into a resort on the left side of the highway. The rental car manager had suggested The Kona Resort as the perfect place to relax without interruptions from the outside world. She parked the car and looked around. No signs, no addresses and no neon flashing anything to tell her she had made it to the right place. Cautiously, she stepped out onto the crunchy gravel driveway and listened to the waves crashing onto the giant lava boulders strewn across the shoreline. Glowing with tiki torches, the lobby's tropical foliage and general Hawaiian theme reassured her—aliens had not abducted her.
Inside the double doors, she heard music, and saw male employees, wearing the authentic native skirt called a pareo. Her room consisted of a little hut surrounded by the ocean without modern conveniences like televisions, telephones or microwaves. Everything about the resort transported her to a far off magical place where time and the bustle of ordinary life seemed light years away. A complimentary arrangement of apples, mangoes, papayas and a small bag of macadamia nuts nestled in a rustic basket on a rattan table. After washing one of the apples, she dug a local entertainment guide out of her bag.
The tri-folded guide she had picked up at the airport listed all the fun things to do on the island, with suggestions that included the best beaches for snorkeling and surfing. A large ad for helicopter tours made her shudder, but the black sand beach sounded interesting and so did the Waikoloa area and the observatory. Scanning the detailed map, she thought about hiking until she saw that Mauna Kea rose to an elevation of 13,796 ft. The more she thought of hiking, the more she realized just how exhausted she really was. Moonlight filled the room, reflecting off the ocean, and the only other light came from a flickering torch outside. Breezes had blown away the surrounding smoke and only traces lingered in the air. Without electricity, Penny decided she might as well get ready for some well-deserved sleep.
As she undressed, she thought about the call she had made to Martin Toyota. Darin wanted to give her something, or did the operator say, show her something? Penny had already turned his job offer down and yet she wondered what he wanted. She didn't even remember why she had bothered calling him in the first place. Leaving her ATM card, forgetting things, God, she was becoming her dad. Still, the operator had made it sound important, and her curious nature kept dwelling on several work related possibilities. Did it have to do with Tina or his Christmas advertising campaign? Didn't that detective imply something about Darin being in on some huge drug scandal? Wasn't that dealership being watched by the Feds? Lying on the bed, Penny listened to the repetitive lapping of the waves. She watched the flickering tiki lights and started to relax. When she closed her eyes, the hypnotic waves felt like a soothing pendulum rocking her into a deep, dreamy sleep where she quickly met up with John.
In her dream, she felt fire by her feet. Sparks were shooting up into the evening sky, and her hands were bound to a large tree.
“Penelope, my dearest, I have let you down.” Sir John declared, pulling on his restraints. Perspiration soaked his shirt and his eyes flashed above crimson cheeks.
“Why do you say that? You have always honored me and treated me as your future queen.” Billowing smoke-filled air filled the space between them. Dancing tongues of flame tried licking their heels.
“Yes, my dear, but now we will be sacrificed by these natives who don't understand or appreciate our undying love for each other.”
“Will we die here, tied to these trees?” Penelope asked, looking at John, the bravest knight in all the land. Struggling and twisting his wrists and body, he tried to free himself from a tree across from where Penelope gasped for fresh air.
“Not if I can help it my heart of hearts,” he coughed out the words and tried looking through the haze. “My love is eternal.”
“But how will you save us? The pain is searing into my slippers…Oh John, please, help us.” Savage sounding crackles of dry twigs and branches burned beneath them, but the sound of someone approaching gave her hope.
A man stepped out of the shadows. Something about him seemed familiar. Handsome and blond, he had wavy hair, dimples and a cleft on his chin. Wearing a beautiful woven shirt made of what appeared to be fine Irish linen, he also wore a tiny gold medallion around his neck, making him look extraordinary, especially out in the middle of a forest.
“John can't help you, fair one.” He said, reaching out to stroke her hair with his right hand. “The fire on your head is brighter than the flames pirouetting at your feet.”
The words, John can't help you reverberated like an echo in a canyon, “Who are you? How do you know his name?” Penelope cried, as she angrily pulled, kicked and screamed. “Please help us.” The stranger knew John's name, and he had caressed her hair, maybe he would help. He had to help.
“I am willing to help on one condition,” he said, placing his palms together, in feigned prayer.
“Anything,” Penelope shouted, “we are burning alive. Can't you see what's happening?” The lace on the bottom of her long elegant gown started to singe and turned black. Smoke filled her eyes, and tears were rolling down her cheeks.
Grinning, he said, “Oh, I can see it all right.” Looking over at John, he asked with a sardonic smile, “What about you, young man, can I have anything?”
“Who are you?” John demanded, writhing in pain. He scrunched his whole face into a confused mass of sweaty, red flesh and though he wanted to appear unruffled, he felt like a helpless, slaughtered calf. “Dammit.”
The stranger's face turned serious. “I require an answer if you want to save your sweetheart,” he demanded. “You're the one who brought up eternity,” he added with a sinister snarl.
“John, please, whatever he wants. Hurry.” Penelope shook her toes trying to keep the flames from engulfing her feet, but the more she shook, the more her fanning drew the blazes higher.
Sir John, the bravest knight, yelled a question at the mysterious man, “Who art thou and what the hell do you want from us?”
The stranger paused before answering, “Just your souls, that's all.” Turning to Penelope, he untied her bindings, and after placing her on the ground said, “Wise decision princess.” He held out his hand and said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I go by many names but most people refer to me as Satan.”
Avoiding his outstretched hand, she spit on the ground in front of him before hurrying to John, “Oh my darling, I've ruined everything.” She quickly undid his bindings and he tore himself off the tree. “Don't worry, my dear, our love will overcome all of his evil threats. Our souls are strong…” He kissed her on the lips while Satan laughed a loud annoying laugh that shook the leaves on the trees, waking Penny from her nightmare.
* * *
Chapter Eighty-Two
Housekeeping had made the bed, vacuumed the carpet and removed the cold roast beef sandwich.
John looked at the floral bedspreads, the expansive view and turned to gaze in the mirror. “Nice,” he said, sounding like a melancholy little boy. “Too bad.” Noticing a loose end on one side of his bandages, he tucked the end back in rather than replacing it. Nobody cared what he looked like anyway.
“Too bad, what?” Carl coughed, taking a big swig from his water bottle. The nurse at the hospital told him to stay hydrated, and though he really craved beer, he knew she meant water.
“Just too bad, about Penny and me,�
�� he mumbled under his breath, looking away from the mirror and back at the view of the ocean. “Didn't you say she wrote a note?” Eyebrows arched, he turned his attention back into the room with a pleading, hound-dog look, inquisitively beseeching Carl's heartstrings, as if Carl kept bacon-wrapped notes from Penny hiding in his shorts.
“Yeah, I think I threw it in that trash can by the door.” Carl pointed and John rushed to the receptacle, almost sniffing the empty canister. He lifted it up and set it down, obviously upset. Turning away, Carl didn't know what to say, because he saw the pain etched on John's features. “You wouldn't have liked what it said anyway, so forget it.” Carl went out on the lanai and sat down to enjoy the breathtaking view.
“Come on out here, John,” he said, putting his feet on the table. “The weather's nice and there's plenty of shade.”
“What did the note say?” John inquired without moving. His own feet were glued near the trash can.
“I can't hear you out here,” Carl lied, listening to the ocean waves, the seagulls and the parasailing couples laughing below. Not completely deaf, he heard John's question as clear as day, but he didn't know what to say. What was he going to do with John? His blubbering would probably continue for the rest of the day. It had been hectic at the hospital and he wanted to rest. The sunburn had been treated with ointment, but his entire body still itched and the experience of fainting shook him up more than ever. “John, I'm going to need to reapply my ointment pretty soon, would you bring me that white bag on the counter?”
John came out on the patio, handing him the bag. “Tell me what the note said. Don't you remember?”
“Sit down,” Carl said, rather gruffly. He pointed to the wrought iron patio chair with floral cushions. “I've never fainted before; it threw me for a loop. It's weird waking up in another place. Have you ever passed out?”
John sat. His arms folded across his chest, he looked like a pouting child. A delicate breeze pushed a few locks of hair over his bandages. Carl could see that changing the subject wasn't going to work. “All right John, the note said something about a pilot who works for American Airlines. It also said I should water the house-plants and I don't know… some other stuff that wasn't important.” Opening the bag, Carl started reading about possible side effects that could occur from the medicated ointment.
“A pilot?” John looked stunned. “I thought she loved me, Carl. Didn't you think she loved me?”
“Well, yes of course, but women can be fickle and I've been on her case I guess.”
“You have? About what?” Uncrossing his arms, he turned from staring straight at the beach towards Penny's father.
“Just the usual grandfather shit,” Carl replied, shifting his weight in the chair and crossing his legs on the table. “I've wanted some grandkids, John and so I've been needling her to look around.”
“You what?” John shouted. He stood up, accidentally knocking the chair on its side. A few sunbathers turned toward the commotion. “Some friend you are.” He wanted to run from the room to the beach, where he would thrust his body under cool, turbulent waves, letting everything wash out to sea.
“We are friends, sit back down.” Carl pulled his feet off the table and took another sip of water. “Now we've got an audience and from what I can tell they're pretty cute.” John's normally steady countenance felt seismically unbalanced. “John, I know it's hard, but sometimes we have to face up to the truth. How do you think I feel? I thought only women fainted. The fact is I'm old and the fact that you let my daughter slip through your fingers is not my fault.” Carl unscrewed the top of the ointment and began smearing it on his arms. The audible slaps he made on his skin hurt like hell, filling the silence between them.
The truth definitely hurt. John wanted to leave but he decided to stay. Searching Hawaii and wondering where Penny hid away in a romantic tryst was no fun. He needed more information and Carl wasn't much help. At this juncture, he also didn't want to be alone. He righted the chair and sat back down. “Sorry.”
“Look at that girl there–” Carl pointed, “three o'clock, leopard bikini.”
John's pain went deeper than sunburn. He looked at the thin, bikini-clad woman with a dazzling tan and all he could say was, “Nice.” To him she represented a nice move like a slide onto home base, a slam-dunk or a touchdown and a checkmate. These were things that happened when you least expected them to happen. Things that made other guys jump up and down and get excited. When Carl or Penny put a twenty-two point word down in their weekly Scrabble game, John would say it with the same, characteristically bored, intonation. “Nice.” When he watched his favorite player slide onto home plate, Carl would get excited and say, “Look John, that's your guy–look at him.” John would be impressed, but all he could say was, “Nice.” Carl knew what it meant, it meant he didn't want to elaborate, he didn't want to discuss it and he didn't want to be too emotional. Besides, a sun-worshipping bunny on the sand wasn't going to repair the gaping hole in his heart anyway.
They sat in silence. Carl watched the girls and John crawled into memories of Penny. A middle-aged woman with a dog smiled and waved, right when there was a knock on the door.
* * *
Chapter Eighty-Three
“Dinner was divine, thanks Ron.” Tina said, yawning and leaning into him as she entered the room.
“Hi Tina, I thought you'd never get here? What happened?” John looked from Tina to Ron and back to Tina.
“This is Ron,” Tina said with a yawn. “Our manager at the Globe.”
They came in carrying luggage with an air of mild impertinence, shoving past John out towards the patio where Carl sat, still enjoying the view. “Sorry, we took so long,” she said. “You wouldn't believe the shit we've been through.” She introduced Carl to Ron and came back in to sit on the bed. “I'm exhausted. Do you think we can all fit on these two queen beds?”
“No,” John said. “I like Carl, but I don't want to sleep with him. “ I'll take the couch.”
“Perfect.” She appeared happier than before and John wondered why she kept holding onto Ron.
“Ron, are you staying here too?” John asked, wondering about Darin.
“I guess so,” Ron said, admiring the room, “but I could get another….”
Tina cut him off, “No, you're staying here with me.” Pulling him close, she planted a kiss on Ron's nose. He reached over and tickled her, and they both acted tipsy, as if whatever they had enjoyed for dinner had been preceded by a generous pitcher of cocktails.
John wasn't in the mood to try to figure out her life. With cataclysmic problems of his own, he still noticed her cheerfulness.
“John, wait till you see the shirt I got you.” She bent down and opened a shopping bag.
“Me?” John asked surprised.
“For your wedding silly,” Tina said, excitedly pulling a beautiful ivory colored Hawaiian shirt from a shopping bag. The raw silk shirt had exquisite, white embroidery on both sides and detailed stitching on the collar. Mother of pearl buttons sparkled in the hotel room's light and a tag dangled from the right sleeve.
“You have got to be kidding?” John couldn't believe his eyes. He moved to sit on the couch. This woman is crazy, he thought to himself. His stitches ached and the bandages pulled the skin on his forehead.
Tina looked at Ron and pouted. “Oh Ron,” she said, “he doesn't like it.”
John had his face in his hands. “He likes it. He's just shocked at the price,” Ron said, feeling embarrassed and awkwardly out of place. Tina had told him everything about her plans for John and Penny and she had roped him into shopping for a wedding dress and groom's shirt. He shot a beseeching look outside at Carl, hoping he'd come in to talk.
“What's going on?” Carl asked, wondering why Tina was holding up a shirt, and why John had his head in his hands.
Lifting his head, John looked up at Tina and then to Carl. “She, she bought me a shirt for my wedding, but… but I don't have a bride,” he stammered. His
face looked sad, his hands shook and he didn't know what else to say without stuttering or bursting into tears.
Tina took a step toward John, and shook the shirt in front of his face. “I know we'll find her, I have instincts about things like this.” She went to the closet and hung the shirt on a hanger. “Just think of this as your Christmas present.” Turning around to Ron she said, “Ron, you'll love this story, Penny's car has personalized plates that say 'Turn Up', because she says she's like a bad penny that always turns up.” Tina looked across the room at Carl, “She does, doesn't she?”
“What?” Carl didn't hear what she said.
“Penny,” Tina continued, albeit louder, “she always turns up. Right?”
Carl looked at John then back to Ron and Tina. “Always,” he said, “she always turns up. Especially when she's needed.”
* * *
Chapter Eighty-Four
For some reason, breakfast sounded awful. Dressed in hiking boots, khaki shorts and a green t-shirt, Penny pulled on matching green socks and wondered why she felt queasy. Did that burger joint give her food poisoning? Maybe it was the scary nightmare, she thought, running her fingers through her pixie-cut. Either that or she was just too excited. After applying a dab of frosty pink lip-gloss, she hurried out to her compact rental. It was the first day of her new and improved Christmas holiday, and she was determined to make it memorable.
Driving north on The Big Island, she decided to stop to explore shops and art galleries at the Waikoloa Village where a young man at the tourist desk told her about the hiking trails ahead. Between Kohala and Hamakua, the guy said. He spoke as if she'd know her way around and as if she understood his local descriptions. Then a few seconds later, he pulled out a map and circled the Waipio Valley. Smiling from ear to ear, she confidently said “Mahalo.” At the shops, she purchased a set of coasters with a carved image of a turtle etched into the stone. Her dad had always wanted to come back to Hawaii with her mom and never had the chance. So many of her dad's regrets centered around his short time on Oahu when he toured Pearl Harbor. The coasters would serve two purposes. They could hold his long-necked ice-cold bottles while protecting the table, and most importantly, they'd remind him of his 'little turtle,' a term of endearment he used because she wasn't a morning person.