Yet before he could put it inside it rang.
Eugene dropped it.
The screen lit up.
It rang again.
Fingers shaking, heart racing, Eugene picked it up, pressed answer, put it to his ear, and heard:
"Daddy?"
***
The restaurant Amelia directed them to was a small neighborhood place called The Blue Hawaiian even though the clapboard was painted green. At one time it had been a family home but now there were tables on the front porch and tables in what had been a big living room. The walls blossomed with three-by-five cards on which people had written whatever came to mind: phone numbers, stick figures on surfboards, alohas from Sacramento to Boston, France to Australia. It seemed as if someone from every state in the union and every country in the world had passed through The Blue Hawaiian or else the staff made this stuff up during down times.
Tonight was not one of them.
When Josie and Stephen arrived the joint was jumping. Every table was filled, pork, fish, chicken and rice platters were flying over the heads of diners and landing on tables with record speed and with incredible precision; the plates were piloted by waiters and waitresses in khaki shorts, white t-shirts and sandals. There was music but Josie was hard pressed to figure out where it was coming from and curious about who had chosen the playlist. The Blue Hawaiian reminded her of Burt's.
Josie and Stephen had arrived ten minutes early to familiarize themselves with the turf before Amelia showed up. When a half an hour went by and she still wasn't there, they ate dinner each with an eye on the door. At nine-thirty they moved to the bar, a patch of real estate that passed for a lounge by virtue of the fact that it had four stools and a television mounted on the wall. Things were quieting down as they came upon the ten o'clock hour.
"I don't think she's coming," Josie muttered.
"Then we shall hunt her down tomorrow, weather permitting," Stephen assured her.
"I think we're banned from Ha Kuna House, in case you've forgotten." Josie took a taste of her wine.
"No pity party, Ms. Bates. I won't have it. Besides, it's not an easy crossing sometimes to get from Molokai. Perhaps Miss Amelia missed the ferry."
He chucked her shoulder with his and got part of the smile he was looking for.
"I will admit it's a shame we don't have any way to contact her. It would have saved us a bit of time. We could have been doing some homework just to get the ball rolling. Still, I will admit to a bit more than normal curiosity about her given what you told me."
Josie set aside her wine. She'd had more to drink since meeting Stephen Kyle than she'd had in the last six months. Between these two days, her trek to Washington and back, she was getting sluggish. She needed to pick up a volleyball game, a run, to sleep in her own bed – preferably with Archer. Truth be told, what she really needed was to wipe the world away for a while was to be lost in lovemaking with Archer.
Stephen raised a finger and ordered another drink for himself. Josie swiveled around and planted her elbows on the bar. Stephen remained face-forward, keeping his eyes on both the door and the ladies.
"What kind of homework were you thinking?" Josie asked.
"We might do a quick look on who owns Ha Kuna House," he answered. "The only interest I usually take in my clients is in their credit report and the timeliness of their checks. In this case, it might be interesting to know a little more about the place. Reynolds obviously has someone he answers to."
"Or he's just checking with a lawyer," Josie speculated. "That's what I'd do."
"It is odd that he runs such a wonderful house for a handful of people," Stephen noted lazily.
"You can have anything if you're willing to a pay a price," Josie said. "But that would mean my mother has money, and if she has money, where did she get it? My father's military pension ended when he died. I would have known what we were paying out, especially after he got sick. I handled all the bills then."
"Do you think your mum might have found someone else? Some rich man who pays for her keep?"
Josie shrugged with seeming nonchalance, but something inside cracked a bit. The idea of infidelity had always been there, unspoken between her and her father yet Josie refused to believe it. She wanted her pain to have meaning; she wanted Emily's disappearance to be about something bigger than a man.
"Service like that doesn't come free. I should know, now shouldn't I?" Stephen raised a brow. Josie raised one right back.
"So either my dad was paying for this which means he knew where she was all along and didn't tell me, or some other guy's been footing the bill. I hate to break the news, Stephen, but neither of those options make me real happy."
"Did you ever get a feeling he knew where she was?" Stephen asked just as the bartender put a drink on the bar behind him. Stephen caught it up. "Do you want something?"
"Water," she said, continuing with her train of thought after he left to get it. "No. I'd see him looking at her picture sometimes. A man doesn't look at a picture the way he did if he knew where to go get her."
"But you never asked. Ever?" Stephen pressed.
"I was thirteen when she left and he was overseas. What was I going to say? Do you think mom was tired of being left alone with me? Or, how about, dad, was she messing around with someone?" Josie laughed. "Not exactly dinner talk."
"What work did your dad do then? I mean after he left service?"
Josie shrugged, "He had one more deployment. It was short. I don't think his heart was in it. After that he just quit. I went to school; he got a job at a local gun store. He took care of me. He was a good dad."
"You didn't find that odd?"
"The job at the gun store?"
"No, his silence. When you were a grown woman, you would think he'd share something. If you had grown up a silly cow perhaps not, but you were a lawyer and quite a successful one," Stephen pointed out.
"You checked me out," Josie teased.
"It was the least I could do," Stephen laughed. "I must say you've been involved in some interesting things. Come out the other end rather nicely. Well done."
"Thanks." She lifted her water glass in a mock toast then cocked her arm and put her chin in her other hand. "I suppose I should have asked my dad straight out. We weren't like that. We were military. Take a hit; suck it up."
"Heavens, you make the English look like blubbering fools. Your upper lip is so stiff as to be granite," Stephen barked. He took a drink, and added: "Must have been bloody hard for you both."
"It was what it was." There was a beat in which Josie lost herself and then she shared the moment. "I wish he could have seen her once more. I would know what to do if I could have seen how he reacted."
Stephen said, "If caring is what you feel then you take one road. If you don't care, you go another."
"And if I'm just curious? Is that valid?" Josie asked.
"If you were simply curious you wouldn't be sitting there with your hand wrapped up like a mummy."
"I suppose," she mumbled.
"You must have some things left from your father," Stephen said. "Why not look through them."
"Maybe," she shrugged.
"Well, that's what I would do soon as I got home," Stephen scoffed. "Never know what you'll find in the attic."
Behind her, Josie heard the scraping of chairs. She looked over her shoulder. A large table was finishing up dinner and people were hugging one another goodbye. One young man put his arms around a pretty girl and pulled her close for a kiss. They were in their own world; Josie was in the real one and it had nothing to do with walking down memory lane or trying to remember what was in her father's boxes.
"Reynolds didn't say Emily has Alzheimer's. Did you notice that? He said they care for people with memory disorders like Alzheimer's."
"And?"
"And, what if Emily's problem can be counteracted by medication or therapy?"
"You don't think they've
explored every option? They're a nursing facility, after all," he pointed out.
"Amelia isn't a nurse. You said yourself that once your guys brought a doctor out from Maui. That means there isn't a doctor in residence or one who visits on a regular basis. Twenty-some years ago options to treat things like Alzheimer's were limited. So she ends up in this place and everyone thinks there's nothing they can do for her and that's it." Josie turned on her barstool, touching Stephen's arm as if she could pull him along the road with her. "Ha Kuna House is like a fancy holding pen."
"How are you going to determine what it is or is not, what your mum's medical situation is or is not, without the records that Reynolds won't let you see?"
Behind him, the bartender tapped his shoulder and offered Stephen a Blue Hawaiian. "Brah-dah, got an extra. On the house."
"Many thanks, my friend." Stephen plucked up the tiny umbrella and nipped the cherry off the end before offering Josie the pineapple. She dropped her hand and shook her head. He set it aside.
"I can't stand the stuff myself. Do you know how much pineapple I see on a daily basis? Literally tons. Pineapple pops, pineapple dipped in chocolate, pineapple to ship back home to the bloody folks, crushed pineapple, pineapple slices, whole pineapples. People who come to the islands can't get enough of it."
He finished his litany, sucked up his drink through a straw and when he came up for air he was back to Emily.
"And what does it matter what's wrong with your mum? Do you think you have all the time in the world? What you're talking about – therapy and such – would take time which I doubt you have."
"I would make it," Josie answered.
"Truly, now? You'd give up your home? You'd give your man an ultimatum – move with me to Molokai on the off chance I can get my mother to remember who I am? And what about the girl you came to find? What about her?"
Josie couldn't argue with him there. In the last months Hannah was all she thought about; in the last hours she had been forgotten and Josie was ashamed.
"So, you're finding blood a bit thicker than water, are you?" Stephen nudged.
"What did you do in your last life, Stephen? Work for the Spanish Inquisition?"
Josie's snipe was friendly as she turned on the stool. Their knees were touching. She leaned close to him. "You're a little Barnum & Bailey, a little Hugh Hefner, but you're not just a sideshow are you?"
"I am not, but I find it beneficial to be considered such at times," he answered. "I'd begun to think there was nothing for me any longer but warm breezes, swaying palm trees, and a passel of lovely women passing through my home. Not a hard life, mind you, just one that goes too easily. I like a bit of excitement, intellectual or otherwise."
"Still not answering the question," Josie insisted. "Were you some Fortune Five Hundred CEO? A scientist. An inventor?"
"Nothing quite so exotic," he chuckled. "I was a solicitor in England. Had my own firm and dealt with international clients. I made a tidy little sum and invested well. But the law ceased to interest me at a certain point."
"What point was that?" Josie sat back and leaned against the wall.
"The point where my wife threw me out and my government decided to tax me at seventy percent. You're not much better in the U.S. Government always has its hand out, doesn't it? Still, there are shelters. I've covered my arse. I can afford to be a bit eccentric. Even got my bar ticket here so I don't have to deal with any shysters."
He offered his glass in a toast and Josie met him in the middle with her glass of water.
"Here's to success," Josie said.
"In all things that matter," Stephen answered.
Josie smiled. Her butt hurt. She needed to stretch her legs. She was disappointed and tired but the evening was not wasted. Archer and Hannah would like this man as much as she did if they could meet him. But liking had its limits. She was about to call it a night when Stephen listed slightly, raised his drink, and gave a nod in the general direction of the front door.
"Your mum's extra daughter has arrived."
***
Bernard Reynolds knocked on the cottage door. Johnson opened it and skipped the pleasantries.
"On the phone now."
Reynolds walked in and shut the door behind him. It had been hours since Josie Bates and Stephen Kyle disrupted what had been a pleasant day, but Reynolds still resented their intrusion mightily. Johnson was no happier, but it was hard to tell. He was a guy who just took care of business. No muss, no fuss. Not that there had been much to do before this, but Bernard had always assumed this was how Johnson would react to a crisis.
Reynolds went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took out a beer. He wandered back into the living room and settled himself on the couch to listen as Johnson offered a few affirmatives and hung up. He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head.
"Well?" Reynolds asked.
"I think they forgot about us. The broad I talked to acted like she'd never heard of the House."
"That was the whole point. Keep calm and keep quiet." Reynolds splayed his legs, grabbed a pillow and held it over his midsection. He lounged on the couch keeping his eyes tight on his buddy. You could never be too careful even when you trusted someone.
"So, what do they want us to do?"
"Wait and see," Johnson said.
"That's it? They aren't sending anyone out?"
"Nope. I'd say you lucked out, my friend." Johnson moved to the upholstered chair that faced the sofa. He put his feet up on the coffee table. "You know, I used to think this was an old folks home for Vets same as the last dork. Difference is, I'm a little more curious than most. That will teach you to leave sensitive material lying around. You never know who's going to be looking over your shoulder."
"Yeah, well, I'm glad you know all of it. I thought it would be such a cush job out here all by myself in the middle of Hawaii. It's hard when you don't have someone to confide in," Reynolds mumbled.
"You made some tough calls," Johnson said.
"Good enough for government work as they say," Bernard agreed, secretly pleased with what appeared to be praise from Johnson.
"And you'll retire well. That pension's nothing to sneeze at," Johnson pointed out.
"There is that." Reynolds hugged his pillow closer and took a drink of his beer. He sighed. He pointed his can at Johnson. "That woman is going to come back."
"Negative. She's not to be on the grounds," Johnson said. "The folks will talk to the lawyers. Tell her you'll get a restraining order if that's what it takes."
"Oh, that's subtle," Reynolds guffawed. "I'm glad you're not in the front office. I told her the truth. It's a matter of protecting Emily's rights. That will hold her for a while. It's Keoloko I'm concerned about. Maybe we should cancel the account. You know, take away that contact point. He's the one who brought her."
"I didn't ask them but for what it's worth, I wouldn't. We still need supplies and that's pretty much the only game in town right now. Besides, it would look too reactive."
Reynolds took a deep breath and blew out a little tune. He tossed the pillow aside, and put his fingers on his closed eyelids.
"I could never have imagined this. I had no idea there were relatives around. Fifteen years and everything rolls along." He dropped his hands and looked at Johnson. "Now this. It's just not fair."
"Shit happens, Reynolds."
"I could quit. Maybe that's what I'll do. Just quit. Maybe I should never have taken the job in the first place. I just didn't really think it through. The pitfalls. The personal liability."
"I hear you, man," Johnson answered thoughtfully.
"I took this job because it was honorable, know what I mean? We were doing what was best for those people."
"I don't even know why they kept 'em around in the first place," Johnson countered.
"What else were you going to do?" Bernard grumbled.
"Kill 'em," Johnson suggested.
"Good one. You had me going, Johnson."
Reynolds laughed, too, and shook a finger. He resisted the urge to wipe the ring of sweat at his hairline. There were times he just didn't get Johnson's humor and there were times Johnson just made him nervous.
"I'm just sayn' that it wouldn't have made much sense not to do everything in my power to keep this place going. They would have had to find a different place, move everything, and get it set up. And the trauma it would cause those poor people? Not worth it. And what were we looking at? Another five years at most and they'd all be gone, right? That's what the last doctor said."
"How would I know?" Johnson was bored with the conversation. "I think it will blow over, though. Our folks will probably let Emily go and you keep your buddies in the house. It will all be like it was. You're a good man, Bernard."
"Thank you, Johnson. I appreciate that. And you're probably right." Reynolds took a look around, buying a minute that would hopefully calm his heart. Every few minutes it just beat like the dickens. "Did they say when they'd get back to us?"
"A few days. A week maybe." Johnson got up. He was a tall man, fit and powerfully built. When Reynolds was very drunk and he squinted his eyes he thought Johnson looked like Iron Man.
"Okay, so that's the plan. I can hold Emily's daughter off for a week. Probably more." Bernard hesitated, trying to decide if he should tell Johnson the rest. In the end, he had to. "There might be one more problem. Ian Francis didn't come back with Amelia. She left him with relatives. I get it, of course. Poor kid probably couldn't take it anymore. But if anyone finds out about the house from him then I am majorly screwed."
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