Island Child

by Roz Denny

  The Porsche inched ahead as drivers in front of Gabe gawked, too. He was nearly even with the line of barricades before he noticed that the car at the barrier was the same make and color as Sarah's.

  Gabe gave the situation a hard look, then did a double take. Hell! It was Sarah, and she was crying. Without thinking, he swung out of the slow-moving line and bumped across the shallow ditch dividing the two highways. He yanked on the brake and leapt out before the engine had fully died. "Sarah! What in holy hell are you doing? And where's Mike?"

  Startled, Sarah raised her head. "Gabe?" Not believing her eyes, she ran toward him and clutched his shirtfront. "He's not with you? Oh, Gabe!" she cried when he shook his head, dumbfounded. "He's run away."

  "Run away? How? Why?"

  The officer stepped between them, clearing his throat. "Here's the note, sir. If this woman is a friend, you'd better try talking some sense into her. She insists on going to Sunset Beach."

  Sarah tried explaining, but tears choked her words.

  Gabe held up a hand. "Wait." Taking the note, he slid his free arm around Sarah's waist as he struggled to read in the dim light.

  The policeman snapped on a flashlight, aiming it at the paper.

  Gabe crushed the note and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. With two fingers, he gently lifted Sarah's chin. "When did he disappear, sweetheart?" he asked, smoothing her tears away.

  There was something about the steady beat of his heart and his even tone that calmed her. "I don't know the actual time. He was mad at me. Because I said he couldn't go with you to the beach. I had decided to stay home next week, and I thought he was sulking." Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. "He's so little, and he shouldn't even be out of bed. How will I ever find him, Gabe?"

  "We'll find him, honey."

  His endearments registered only briefly in Sarah's mind. She dismissed them as meaningless. Gabe, too, was worried. She could see it in his eyes. He probably thought sweet nothings were the best way to combat hysteria. Sarah crossed her arms to rub away a sudden chill. "What if someone gave him a ride to the beach after you left?" She wanted to come across as logical, not hysterical.

  Gabe turned to the young officer. "How long has the roadblock been up?" he asked.

  "Since maybe three o'clock. Give or take ten minutes."

  Sarah relaxed. "I know Mike was home at two-thirty. I checked my watch when Harvey left. It was after that Mike and I argued."

  "Harvey?" Gabe's jaw tensed. "Did you two make up? That would definitely upset Mike."

  "I told you why we had words. It was over you—not Harvey. Mike wanted to spend the week with you."

  "Ah, of course, it's all my fault. You know, Sarah, this taking cheap shots at one another isn't getting us anywhere."

  "It's not your fault," she corrected. "It's mine."

  "Officer?" Gabe beckoned to the policeman now listening on his two-way radio. "Can you use that thing to have someone check my beach house?" Without waiting for an affirmative, Gabe rapped out his address.

  In less than five minutes they learned that the beach was cleared and his house locked tight.

  "Okay," Gabe said. "Rules that out. We're going to leave the Mustang here and take my car. Any problem with that?"

  "No, sir." The cop shook his head. "Just pull her off the road."

  Gabe did and handed the keys back to Sarah as he helped her into the Porsche. He nosed his way into the dwindling line of traffic. "Tell me where you've checked." Gabe assumed she must have missed something. Last night Mike could barely walk.

  As Sarah told him, Gabe swung from the narrow beach road on to the four-lane highway. Car lights from the opposite lanes lit the Porsche's interior. He glanced over and saw them flicker in a ghostly dance over Sarah's pale cheeks, then gathered her hand in his. It was ice cold.

  She clung to his hand as if to a lifeline. "I've never been so frightened," she admitted. "Not even when I was buying the dress for the Maxwell party and some punk pulled a knife on me in the alley. Then I was angry. With this, I feel so helpless."

  Gabe arched a brow. "What? Some punk did what?" He sighed. "Someday I want to hear more about that—but not now. Now, we're going to the police."

  "I called them. Spoke to Sergeant Hanna. He was nice, but terribly busy." She freed her hand and rubbed her temples. "That shrieking siren gives me the willies. Where could he be, Gabe?" Her voice caught again. "He's never heard the old air-raid sirens. He'll be scared half to death."

  "He's tough, Sarah. Think positive. It's a small island."

  "Easy for you to say. He's not your son."

  "Stop it. If I didn't care, I'd be at my marina making sure my inventory is anchored down. I care about him. And I care about you." Dammit, he thought, let her chew on that for a while.

  She wet her lips and looked away. She couldn't deal with what she heard in his voice—what she saw in his eyes. Not now.

  "I'm sorry, Gabe," she said sadly. "You got rather more than you bargained for this time with your agency assignment." A sigh followed. "I owed you before—for last night. I'm not sure I can repay this favor."

  "This has nothing to do with the agency, Sarah," Gabe growled. "Ah, good—the police station up ahead. I suggest we get inside before I say something I'll regret, after that last remark." But when they got out, Sarah looked so fragile, so vulnerable, Gabe wished he'd held his tongue.

  He paused on the top step and with a steady hand smoothed back her wind-mussed hair. Then he tilted her face and brushed a light kiss over her lips. "For luck," he told her. "We will find him, Sarah. All boys try running away at least once. Neither my brother nor I got very far the time we tried." He opened the heavy door and ushered her toward a uniformed man seated at the front counter.

  The desk sergeant looked harried. He had four phones in front of him and all were ringing. But when he tried to mollify them with the same story Sarah had been given over the phone, Gabe demanded to see the captain. They were granted a five-minute audience. Gabe didn't waste words. He gave a concise description of Mike, mentioned his injury and pressured for an all-points bulletin. Sarah was relieved when the captain drummed his fingers on the table a moment, then agreed to an APB.

  Gabe jotted down Sarah's number in case the police found Mike while they were still out looking.

  "I think we should go recheck your neighborhood, Sarah," he said on the way out. "Bright as Mike is, he's still only eight years old." Privately Gabe agreed with the sergeant. A child's resources were limited at best. Likely, he was closer to home than Sarah thought.

  "I searched the house thoroughly. Plus I stopped by the homes of several friends." Sarah's voice sounded strained.

  Gabe hustled her along the sidewalk toward the car.

  Out on the road, a van went by with a loudspeaker warning people to get off the streets. Apparently the wave was closing on Hawaii, and Oahu's coastline was in imminent danger.

  "Damn," Gabe muttered. "I hope Grady managed to tie those boats down without me. This is going to be a doozy."

  Sarah grabbed his arm and pulled him up short. "Your boat." Her words tumbled faster. "Maybe he went there. A kid doesn't know one beach from another. What if Mike thought they surfed where you kept your boat?"

  Gabe hung back. "I don't know, Sarah. He's pretty smart. He asked a lot of questions about the marina. We can try, but I don't know that the police will let us through."

  Sarah looked around at the sky and the street. "It looks so normal." She shivered. "I expected something more dramatic."

  "Just wait. It'll get humid and very still right before the wave hits. And you wouldn't want to be near the beach then. The force of those megatons of water does a lot of damage. The last one bent parking meters flat and flooded hotels. But come on, let's give it a shot. If the wave hasn't hit Hawaii yet, they may give us a few minutes to check the marina. If not, I'll call Grady. Nothing much gets by him."

  The officer stationed at the barricade on Ala Moana Boulevard was a regular on the harbor be
at. He knew Gabe by sight and allowed him ten minutes. The wave had hit the Big Island with horrendous force; it had split as they feared, and now the larger portion was barreling straight for Oahu's leeward beaches. The latest estimated time of arrival was eight o'clock.

  Sarah had chewed the inside of her mouth to ribbons. What if this was a wild-goose chase? Where could Mike have gone? Her stomach boiled acid.

  "You wait in the car," Gabe instructed as he turned into the Yacht Basin on two wheels and screeched to a stop outside Parker Marina.

  "No." Sarah already had her door open. "I'd go crazy waiting. I'm coming."

  Gabe took one look at her set lips and didn't argue. "Come on. This way." He unlocked a gate and pulled her inside.

  The sirens screamed without any breaks at all now. Gabe unlocked the door to a large white building. "My boat is the one connected to hoists. Why don't you check the cabins and the galley? I'm going into the office to call Grady. Hurry." He didn't think Mike could have made it this far, but at this point, he dared not rule anything out.

  Sarah nodded, crossed her fingers and raced up the ramp. The craft was dark and forbidding. It didn't look promising. Her spirits slid lower with each empty cabin. As she searched, she shouted Mike's name until she was hoarse. When she ran smack into Gabe on the upper deck, he looked grim.

  Sarah's heart plummeted. "What is it? What did you find out?" She clutched his arm.

  "Let's go. Grady said the roads have been barricaded since two o'clock. Teams have been working since then to evacuate. There's little chance Mike could have slipped through. I think we should go to your house and start again."

  "The police…" She sounded hopeful.

  "I couldn't get through when I phoned them," he yelled over the wail of sirens as he hustled her outside. "Grady said my mom was the only one who called. Twice. I can't imagine why. But you know mothers," he said, "they never quit worrying." He helped her in and slammed the door. By the time he buckled up, she was fighting tears again.

  "Don't, Sarah," he begged. "Crying won't help."

  "I—I'm so s-sorry," she stammered, but she couldn't seem to stop.

  He let out a pent-up breath, drove past the barrier and down a block, then pulled over to the curb and took her into his arms. "Shh," he whispered, threading his fingers through her tumbled hair. He rocked her gently, as he might have rocked Mike, and crooned nonsense into her ear.

  "It's all m-my f-fault." Sarah scrubbed at the tears. "I've b-been denying the s-signs. All the books are clear."

  "Your parenting books?" He cupped her face and brushed his thumbs over her cheeks.

  "Yes. It's called transference. Mike wanted a father so bad, he—" She bit her lip and sucked in air. "I'm afraid he placed you in that role. I should have discussed it with you, but I had these feelings of my own that kept getting in the way. I was wrong, and now look. He's gone to f-find you, and you're needed at h-home. I don't know what to do."

  Gabe bent and kissed her quiet. Then he drew back and drove away from the curb. "You've been in denial over a lot of things, Sarah," he said calmly. "But there'll be time for us to clear the air later. Right now we're going to your house. Have faith in Mike's intelligence, Sarah. He knows what Dr. Manolo said. I can't help thinking he's all right. I feel it in my bones."

  Sarah laced her fingers tightly together. Her mind was a chaotic jumble. According to Mike, Gabe always knew best. At this moment, she wanted with all her heart to trust that he did.

  Leaning back, she tried to block the sirens and collect her thoughts. If Gabe hadn't found her, what then? Mike was her responsibility. It was about time she stopped acting helpless.

  As they turned into her driveway, she was outwardly as calm as Gabe. The old Sarah. Cool. Efficient. No one but Gabe would know the fears that lay underneath.

  The house was dark and empty. Gabe turned on the lights and went straight to Sarah's answering machine. It wasn't on. He swore to himself; he'd given this number to the sergeant. Plus, if Mike was lost and confused, he might have tried calling. For Sarah's sake, he hid his concern.

  But Sarah saw. "I must have fiddled with it accidentally when I talked with the police. I can't believe I did that." She looked stricken.

  "What about Mitzi and Osamu?" Gabe asked. "Would Mike go there?"

  She shook her head. "Mitzi and her mom are out of town. And Osamu's is wise to the ways of kids. He would have brought him home."

  Gabe rang the police again. It took three tries to get through. They hadn't found Mike, but neither had they turned up any unidentified bodies. Gabe didn't think he'd tell Sarah that part. She was back searching rooms.

  He knew from the shadows in her eyes when she rejoined him that nothing new had turned up. He pulled her into his arms and held her close.

  "I hoped I'd find him asleep in one of the closets. When he was three or four, he'd hide there when he got mad at me. I remember how it troubled me, until I read in one of the books that it was fairly common for his age. But now…" She stopped and lifted a determined jaw. "I'm going to call everyone in his class. It's a small neighborhood. Maybe someone saw him."

  Gabe nodded. "That's the spirit. I'll take a run up to the school. It's possible he was more upset than we thought about having to give up soccer."

  "Shouldn't you try your mother?" Sarah asked. "You said that man Grady mentioned she's called twice."

  "We'll do this first. When I come back, if you've finished making your calls, I'll give her a jingle. Whatever she needs, she has infinitely more people to help her than you do. More than likely she got upset when she wasn't able to reach me at the beach house. She's kind of like you." He dropped a light kiss on Sarah's nose.

  Sarah didn't say anything. His generosity overwhelmed her. Mike's real father had never been a fraction this benevolent, this caring.

  Gate had his hand on the doorknob when Sarah knew she had to tell him the truth. If nothing else, he deserved to know why she hated everything to do with surfing. She grabbed his arm. "One Sunday," she said without preamble, "Mike had chicken pox. His fever went sky-high. I'd walked the floor with him for three days and nights. I was exhausted, and Farrell took off for Makaha to surf. He had the checkbook, the teller card and the last of our cash. I couldn't even buy juice. I think I went a little crazy. Anyway, I wrapped Mike up and drove to the beach… to beg, if I had to, for help."

  Tears trickled down her cheeks and Gate came back and kissed them away. "Honey, don't. It's okay. Don't torture yourself."

  "I want you to know why I hate surfing. Surfers," she whispered. "I found my husband, all right. He was in the middle of a big party. I explained what I needed and he popped the top on another beer. Then he slid his arm around some blonde in a string bikini and reminded me that I was the one who wanted a baby."

  "Oh, sweetheart," he said. "I'll never bring up surfing again. I swear. If I'd been there, I'd have thrashed him. How did you manage?"

  "I took Mike to the emergency room. They admitted him because they were worried about meningitis. The moment he recovered, I called Lou and asked him to file for a divorce. Unfortunately Farrell got wind of this, or he guessed. At any rate, he cleaned out our checking and savings and left Hawaii before Lou could have the papers served. Then he filed first—from Australia."

  Slipping from Gabe's arms, Sarah picked up the phone. "Everything you've done—are doing—means a lot to me. I just wanted you to know."

  He shook his head, looking sober. "I only wish I'd known before. Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess now. I promise you, Sarah, when this is over, when we find Mike, we have things to discuss." With that, he was gone.

  The tsunami hit Oahu while Sarah was on the telephone with Mrs. Cline. The Clines had their television turned up loud to drown out the sirens. The report came while the woman went to ask Jim if he'd seen Mike today. Eighty-foot swells had ripped through beachfront hotels. Power had failed and miles of coastline were blacked out. Waikiki, where Gabe's marina lay, was receiving the brunt of the impact.
Sarah prayed he hadn't been wiped out and that they hadn't missed something in their quick search. She refused to think what it would mean if Mike had made his way to the beach.

  Her faith weakened a bit when Jim Cline said he'd been out playing all day and had seen nothing. Sarah's hands shook as she dialed the next number. It was the same story. No one had seen him. It was as if he'd vanished without a trace.

  She had just dialed the last child in Mike's class when Gabe returned. She could tell by the look on his face that he'd met dead ends, too. She tried not to react, but felt her shoulders slump in defeat.

  Gabe walked over and, as Sarah wound down her conversation with Benny Olani's mother, began massaging her neck. But there was no hope there, either; Benny hadn't seen Mike.

  The receiver fell from Sarah's hand. As he knelt to pick it up, the terror in her dark eyes ripped a hole in his heart. "Why don't you go make coffee?" he suggested quietly. "I'll give the police captain another try. They may have tried to call while you were on the phone."

  She nodded. "And don't forget your mother." Putting on a brave front, she moved toward the kitchen. "I'm sorry about your marina, Gabe. I heard on the Clines' TV that Waikiki was hit hard."

  "Insignificant compared to Mike, Sarah. Go on. Let me make this call." He made numerous tries before he got through. Gabe stared into space as he listened. The police had nothing. Furthermore, now that the wave had hit, the entire force would be pressed into duty to keep looters out of the hotels and businesses that had been flooded.

  "I understand," Gabe said wearily. "I hate even to suggest this, but would you ask your officers to keep an eye out during cleanup?" The captain said he would, and Gabe hung up.

  He stood and stretched his own tense muscles before calling his mother. Gabe felt as if he'd aged ten years. He could only guess at the turmoil Sarah must be battling. Sinking down on the couch, he pulled the phone to his lap and halfheartedly dialed his parents' home.