Aloha Love

by Yvonne Lehman

  She laughed as he smiled at her.

  “I’m sure that seems like a long way off for you.”

  “Long enough for me to help Leia get over her fear and learn how to properly care for horses, get them to trust and obey.”

  He scoffed. “That sounds rather religious.”

  Jane smiled. “Well, aren’t we humans sometimes rather like wild horses? The Lord has to rein us in.”

  His head turned toward her, and his eyes held a curious look. “You don’t strike me as a wild horse.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t tell you this, but Billy and I went out behind the barn to smoke one of my daddy’s cigars. But first, I grabbed Billy and I kissed him right on the lips.”

  “No,” Mak said, feigning shock. “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  He laughed heartily.

  “That’s funny?”

  “I was remembering the description Reverend gave me of you at fourteen.”

  “And that’s funny?”

  “He did describe you as. . .a child. I can’t imagine that kiss being anything like a wild horse.”

  “Well, we experimented with a few more kisses. That’s before we sat with our backs against the barn and began taking turns with the cigar.”

  “Ahhh.” His eyebrows lifted. “Now you’re beginning to get sinful.”

  She laughed at the teasing. “Oh, we paid the consequences for that. You see, that’s when I learned the meaning of a sick stomach.”

  She liked his laugh. “And when I got off that ship here in Hawaii, the reminder returned. I so wanted to make a good impression.”

  “You did make an indelible one,” he said. “Unforgettable.” He chuckled. “Now I know how sinful you are.”

  “Oh,” she boasted. “That was only the beginning. I determined to kiss at least two boys at every church social, every party, or whenever I got the chance.” She lowered her head. “But of course, I had to pretend it was their idea so I wouldn’t get a bad reputation.”

  “Why two?” he asked.

  “I have always been promised to Austin. Aunt Matilda taught me that I had to consider other possibilities and I thought a kiss would be the best way.”

  “And Austin always won?”

  “He wasn’t always the best kisser, but he was always the best man.”

  She figured turnabout was fair play, so she asked, “How old were you when you had your first kiss?”

  He gazed out across the land. “Twelve? No, eleven. Yes. Eleven.”

  “Eleven kisses, or eleven years old?”

  He shrugged and glanced at her. “Both. She was a cutie. Brown as a Kona coffee bean. Big brown eyes. Almost all eyes and lips. You know?” He made finger motions at his own lips as if trying to draw heart-shaped ones.

  Jane nodded.

  “But she wouldn’t let me kiss her lips. Only her cheeks. She said her mother told her not to let a boy kiss her lips.” He sighed. “Just being near them was heaven. On about the twelfth kiss, I made a mistake and kissed her lips. I think I was twelve by then.”

  “Mistake?”

  He nodded. “She ran away. Never let me kiss her again.”

  Jane moaned, and when he glanced at her she frowned, trying to appear sad. “Oh, the consequences of being wild horses.”

  “Maybe we weren’t so bad. Just children.”

  Jane realized his mood had gone from playfulness to serious. What had he been thinking? Three years without a kiss from his wife? Of course, he missed that. Her closeness, her love.

  “You were just a child when you lost your mother, weren’t you?” he asked.

  “My mother was killed in a tornado. She was a schoolteacher. The school collapsed. She had herded the children into the storm cellar beneath the school. I was one of those children. But she didn’t make it.”

  “You know loss. Yet you seem so happy. Is it time that does it?”

  “Matilda made me cry and grieve. She’s known many losses. But through the years, she has taught me that people are different. Some are uptight, and some are. . .” She turned her face toward him until he looked. “Some are free spirits.”

  He smiled. “I think there’s more to it.”

  “Sure there is. But I can’t teach you everything about life in only one day.”

  He laughed. “We’ll just have to have classes together, teacher.” He paused. “Speaking of teaching, my mother thinks I should have Leia in the mission school. I’ve thought she was better off being tutored by my mother. But I’m beginning to think she may be right. Leia begs me to let her go there. You’ve been a girl and without a mother. What do you think?”

  “I think, Mak, that you’re having as much trouble letting go of Leia as you are with letting go of. . .your wife.”

  At his surprised expression, Jane apologized. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  He gave her a long look. “Why did you?”

  “Because,” she said, afraid she had just alienated him. “Sometimes my tongue is as uncontrollable as tumbleweed in a windstorm.”

  He looked at her quickly. “I have no idea what you’re saying. Tumbleweed?”

  “Tumbleweed is a plant. The wind breaks it off from the roots and rolls it along wherever it will. So what I mean is I talk a lot and sometimes say the wrong thing.”

  They trotted along for quite a while. She feared he’d tell her to turn around and go back to town. He finally said, “Jane, I’ve said we could be friends and that we can talk about what’s important to us. I’ve had so many people tell me how I should feel and not feel, that I’m afraid I have a short temper where that’s concerned. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay. Do you still want my opinion?”

  He grinned. “Go ahead. I’ll hang on tight in case a tumble-weed heads my way.”

  She began. “We both know I can’t tell you what to do. But it would be nice, I think, if Rose could be more like a grandmother. She can fill a mother’s role but can never replace her. Matilda was my wonderful, wonderful aunt, and we both have benefited from that. And the school seems to be a really fine school. The children are happy, the teachers are caring. . .ahem.”

  His puzzled look changed to understanding. “Thank you, Miss Buckley,” he said with mock formality. “But this teacher is temporary. I don’t intend to return after Christmas holidays and may leave sooner if Russell gets a replacement. Besides, it’s a long way for Leia to go to school.”

  “She could stay home and be taught by you or your mother in bad weather.”

  His expression was amused. “We don’t have bad weather.”

  “Oh yes. I forgot. This is paradise.”

  “Right,” he said. “We only have tidal waves, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions.”

  Twenty-four

  “By the way,” Jane said, realizing they were headed in a different direction than town. “Where are we going?”

  Mak brought Big Brown to a halt. “Sorry. I’m assuming instead of asking. Would you like to see more of the ranch?”

  She gave him a big smile. “I was afraid you were escorting me home. Tell you what. Let’s just be really honest and if one of us starts to take advantage of the other’s time or anything, just say so. How’s that?”

  He took off his hat and held it against his heart, causing the breeze to stir the waves of his hair. “It’s a deal. Would you like to see Panai’s workout?”

  “Look at it this way, Mak MacCauley. If you came to Texas and knew my daddy had a ranch, would you want to go see an oil well?”

  With a grin, he returned the hat to his head. The next thing she knew, Big Brown had responded to his leg and hand motion and they were galloping across the green grass.

  “One of these days,” he said, “we might stroll through a field of lava and walk along the black sand beaches.”

  “Ach.” She pulled the horse to a halt.

  Mak stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  “You just said the strangest thing I ever heard in my life.”r />
  “What? What did I say?”

  “You said we’d walk through lava.”

  He shrugged. “So?”

  “That’s worse than if I would say, ‘Let’s stroll along the lawn, amidst the cow patties, and listen to the mooing.’ ”

  When he could stop laughing, he said with irony. “Ah, our different worlds. Yes, I suppose you’re right. But I bet you my lava setting is more appealing than your cow-patty one.”

  “Prove it,” she teased.

  “I can.” Then he surprised her by taking Big Brown into a fast gallop.

  “I’ll catch up,” she called, bringing Anise to a trot while she took the pins from her hair and loosened it with her fingers.

  Mak slowed and looked over his shoulder. She fast-galloped up to him, and they rode side by side. He kept looking over, and his eyes seemed to linger on her long hair blowing out from her head like the tail of a horse.

  “Ahhh,” she said.

  He pushed his hat back so it lay between his shoulders, ran the fingers of one hand through his dark hair, then grimaced. “Not the same,” he said.

  She laughed. Was that some kind of offhand compliment?

  The stables, corral, and bunkhouse came into view first. Several men were tending the horses. Cattle and horses grazed in the open fields beyond, but with a wave of their hands, she and Mak kept riding.

  Jane was speechless. Lying ahead was a fenced racetrack so huge she couldn’t see the end of it. Chico was leading Panai in a slow trot over to the fence. Jane was off Anise before Mak could dismount.

  “Careful,” Mak warned as Panai stuck his head over the top of the white wooden fence.

  “He’s inviting me to come over,” she said as Chico dismounted.

  “You’re right,” Chico said, climbing over the fence with a broad smile that creased his browned face.

  Two other men walked up, and Mak introduced them. She learned that Tomas was one of Mak’s trainers and Clint was the ranch’s foreman. The men seemed to already have heard about her, mentioned her uncle Russell, took off their hats at the mention of Pansy, and asked a couple questions about her daddy’s Texas ranch.

  After a moment, Clint said he needed to get back to work. “The boss might catch me loafing.” The next moment, he was galloping off on his horse.

  Chico made a strange sound like a grunt, and his hand moved to his stomach as he bent over a few inches.

  “Chico?” Mak said. “Something wrong?”

  Chico’s hand dropped to his side, and he straightened. His face took on an innocent look, but it seemed to have lost its healthy glow. “No. Why?”

  Jane saw Mak look at Tomas, who gazed off across the racetrack like he wasn’t even listening.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Mak said, giving Chico a hard look.

  Chico shrugged. “It’s only an upset stomach. The cook made pancakes this morning, and it’s just too heavy in my stomach to eat that and come ride. I’ll change my way of living.”

  Chico laughed as if it were nothing.

  Mak didn’t. “I’ve never known you to have a sick day in your life, Chico. But I don’t want you on Panai if you’re ill. Tomas here can ride Panai and get somebody to keep the time. If you need to see a doctor, see a doctor.”

  “I will, Mr. Mak. Now, I need to take Panai around one more time.”

  When Mak looked at him skeptically, Jane stuck her arm over the fence rails and rubbed the horse’s neck. “Let me ride him.”

  Mak didn’t bother to laugh. “No woman has ever been on that horse.”

  She was looking in Panai’s eyes. “He would let me ride him.”

  “He’s not just a horse. He’s a trained racer.”

  Drawing in a deep breath she lifted her chin. “So am I.”

  At his withering stare, she corrected that. “Well, not the kind you and Chico are. But I’ve raced my dad. And as an equestrienne, I’ve not only ridden with speed but had the horse jump. . .” She measured with her hand. “This high.” She added, “I’ve even won awards.”

  There it was again. That sinking feeling that she’d never come in first.

  He stuck one booted foot on a rail, swung the other up, and over the fence he went. She did the same. “Let me ride with you.”

  He mounted the horse, and by that time, Tomas had climbed over and helped Mak lift her onto the horse.

  “I don’t believe this,” Mak murmured.

  Jane looked at the two silent men, both bug-eyed like they didn’t believe it, either.

  “No timing,” Mak said to Tomas. “Just call it a. . .workout.”

  “Oh, you beautiful, beautiful, wonderful horse,” Jane told Panai, leaning over his magnificent mane. “You like me here, don’t you?”

  Mak started him off slowly, knowing it was a test for them all. Jane wasn’t concerned about herself or Panai but wondered what emotion the horse might sense from Mak. But he knew Mak as his master. She knew Panai didn’t want to trot, then canter, then gallop. He wanted to fly.

  As Mak allowed the horse more free rein, she felt the power, the warmth, the strength, the determination. And that’s what she felt sitting in front of Mak with his arms around her. She knew his total focus was on the horse.

  She tried to make it hers, but her silly brain kept feeling the warmth of his body leaning against hers, the strength of his arms around her, the sound of his voice touching the top of her head as if it were entering through her hair and it affected her mind as he talked to Panai, saying, “Let’s hold back. Save the best for the race, Panai. Good boy.”

  She was flying. Faster than she’d ever flown in her life. Lifted higher than she’d ever been. The wind was in her face. The scenery sped by like a green ribbon. Nothing existed but the wish that this feeling of being completely unfettered might last forever.

  It ended too soon.

  “How was it?” Mak said, dismounting and lifting his arms to her.

  Her chest heaved with excitement. “Exhilarating.” As her feet touched the ground with his hands at her waist, she instinctively wrapped her arms around him, her head against his chest. His heart was thundering, too. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  “Do you have your land legs?” he said, taking hold of her arms and stepping back.

  She shouldn’t have done that. But so much was going through her mind. She’d just had the ride of her life. She felt tears of joy smart her eyes, and she climbed over the fence to reality.

  Later, after riding back to town—without Mak feeling he had to escort her—she could hardly wait to tell Matilda all about it. After gushing like an oil well about the ride, she said, “I felt so free, Matilda. Sometimes, looking at this ring and thinking about marriage, I think I may not be ready. And this is such a breakthrough that Mak allows a woman—a single woman—to be near him.”

  Matilda shook her head. “Don’t forget, dear. The reason you’re allowed to ride that horse, to be near Mak is because you’re wearing that ring.”

  Twenty-five

  “Oh, I’ll never get the syllables right,” Jane wailed. “I keep saying Kalimikika or Keli ki ka ma instead of Kali. . .Kali. . .” She threw up her hands. “What’s the use?”

  “What’s the use?” Matilda gave her a studied look. “We may need to say it to the queen. Or more important, to children. Now, Rose taught me how to say it, and you girls can learn, too. Let’s try word association.” She took a deep breath. “Think of this sentence: My cart is leaky from spilled milk while I’m riding in my cart.”

  Jane’s eyes swung to Pilar, who was shaking her head and covering her mouth to hold back the laughter. Matilda ignored it. “Now think ‘cart leaky, my cart,’ but instead of ‘my’ say ‘ma’ and instead of cart say ‘ca.’ ”

  “Okay.” Jane could hardly get the words out while holding her stomach from the laughter that filled her body. “My horse is leaking while pulling Ma’s cart.”

  Pilar cleared her throat. “My ma doesn’t have a cart, and I don’t think she leaks.”

>   Matilda slapped her hands down on the kitchen table. “Oh, you girls are impossible. Now try this. Kart-liki ma-cart.”

  Jane and Pilar spoke in unison. “Cart-leaky, ma-cart. Cart-leaky ma-cart.”

  Matilda moved her hand like waving a baton. “Not bad. Leave out the r and t. Kalikimaka.”

  “Ca-leaky ma-ca.”

  “Perfect. Now add the Mele in front of it and you have Merry Christmas.”

  Uncle Russell walked into the kitchen, laughing. “You could just say Merry Christmas. Everybody understands that.”

  “Oh, Russ,” Matilda chided. “We’re in Hawaii. The Bible says when in Rome do as the Romans do.”

  “It does?” He pulled out a chair. “This isn’t an exact translation,” he said, sitting. “But a phonetic translation. When Christmas first came to the islands, the Hawaiians had difficulty pronouncing Merry Christmas. Think about the pronunciation here. It sounds a lot like Merry Christmas.”

  “Now why didn’t you say that, Matilda?” Jane jested. “That makes it so much easier. She jumped up and hurried to the door. “I think I hear their wagon.”

  The rest of them followed. Mak had some of his men take the farm wagon up in the mountains and bring down Christmas trees and cypress boughs to decorate the school and church. Sure enough, there was Mak driving the farm wagon.

  Before they got Uncle Russell’s tree unloaded and the boards nailed onto the trunk, Rose and Leia drove up in a horse-drawn cart loaded with greenery and boxes.

  A couple other wagons pulled up. This was the day to decorate Uncle Russell’s house, the church, and the school.

  When Rose and Mak came in with cardboard boxes, Jane tried out her new words. “Mele. . .” She thought, My cart is leaking. “Maca leaky.”

  Mak smiled broadly. “Merry Mas-Christ to you, too. And a Hau’oli Makahiki Hou.”

  She stomped her foot. “I’m going to forget Christmas altogether.” Then she gasped with pleasure as Leia opened a box lid and exposed bright red, silk flowers they would use to make leis. “Oh, I just got an extra dose of Christmas spirit.”

  They left some of the greenery at the house, went to the church, and unloaded more. Uncle Russell directed them to a closet where last year’s decorations had been stored.