Kaua'i Me A River Part 15

"Yep. On Sat.u.r.day night it was just the kids. But then Farrah started babbling about *it takes a village' and how she couldn't allow her *sister/mom' to sleep outdoors anymore so last night we had the entire unwashed tribe." He shuddered. "I love Farrah, but I'm afraid if this is the way it's gonna be, then I'm going to start looking for new digs."

"Okay, don't get ahead of yourself. This is my house and I'm home now. I'll have a talk with her."

We got to the house and sure enough, the first thing I heard as I went in was the screech of little kids. I pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen and saw my living room in an utter uproar. There were blankets draped from the sofa to the coffee table and toys scattered everywhere.

I turned to Steve. "I thought you said these kids were homeless. How come they have so much stuff?"

"Farrah took them to Costco yesterday," he said.

"What's with the blankets?"

"When I left to pick you up there was talk about building a fort."

Farrah came down the stairs holding Moke. She was humming and softly patting his back. If I hadn't been so overwhelmed by the coup that had taken place I might've found the scene heartwarming.

"What's going on here?" I said.

"Pali, ho'okipa! Welcome home. Isn't it cute? The girls are playing house." We all turned and looked as two identical faces popped out from a gap in the blankets.

I took Farrah's elbow and guided her toward the kitchen. "Farrah, this is not okay. I can't have three kids in my house. This isn't how Steve and I want to live."

There was a loud knock at the front door.

"That must be Hatch," said Farrah. "He's so sweet. He heard you were coming home and offered to let us stay down at his place."

I went to the door.

"Hey Pali," he said. He slid by me saying, "Is Farrah in the kitchen?"

I nodded. He disappeared behind the swinging door and I heard laughing.

"Are you our other mommy?" said a tiny voice.

I looked down at a doll-like face peering up at me. She had jet-black hair with thick bangs and a smooth bob that fell to chin length. Her haircut was so precise it looked unnatural on a little kid.

"Uh, no, I guess you would call me your *auntie'," I said. "Auntie Pali." It felt strange to introduce myself that way. I'd gone from having aunties to being one and it made me feel positively ancient.

"My name's Echo and my sister's name is Rain," she said. At the mention of her name, little Rain pulled aside the blanket to show her face. The two girls were so alike I felt like I'd lapsed into double-vision.

"Is this your house?" said Echo. "Mama says a rich lady owns this house."

I smiled. "Well, the bank owns this house. But I pay the bank to live here."

"Can we live here too? We'll tell Mama to pay the bank. We don't like to sleep outside. It's cold."

"And scary," said Rain.

Hatch and Farrah came out of the kitchen. Now Hatch was holding the baby. He was smacking the kid's back with such force I thought it must hurt. But then Moke let out a resounding burp and everyone laughed.

"Time to pack up, keiki," said Hatch. "We're moving down to the ranch."

"Can I have a minute with you?" I said.

"Sorry, but I've kind of got my hands full here," he said. "And I'm on s.h.i.+ft tomorrow. How about I give you a call later?"

Hatch helped Farrah pack up the baby stuff in my bedroom and within ten minutes the house was deadly quiet.

I stood at the window. "What just happened?" I said to Steve as I watched Hatch's truck disappear down the street.

"Looks to me like you got dumped for some younger women."

Steve had to deliver some photo proofs to a client in Lahaina so I took the opportunity to go down to Palace of Pain to clear my head. I had no weddings on my calendar until late July but even if I had, I was in no shape to deal with people.

The sun was beginning to set as I headed down Baldwin Avenue. Chances were Sifu Doug would have already locked up and gone home but every black belt at PoP had been given a key so we could work out whenever we wanted.

I pulled in the alley and was surprised to see only one parking spot left. Ah, it was the first Monday of the month. Sifu Doug always scheduled promotion ceremonies on the first Monday. I considered driving through the alley and out the other side but as I pa.s.sed the open door, Doug waved at me. He had a big smile on his face.

Busted. I pulled in and parked.

"Pali, mahalo nui loa for showing up," he said. He gripped my hand and started in on one of his fancy handshake routines. I found all the fist-b.u.mping and elaborate hand-jiving silly but it was part of the male culture I'd fought hard to join, so I went with it.

"How many are getting promoted tonight?" I said.

"Just six. Four yellow belts and a couple green. Shouldn't take too long. And the moms brought some ono-looking ca.s.seroles."

"Sounds great."

We went inside and Sifu Doug started the ceremony. It'd been a long time since I'd attended a promotion and I'd forgotten how solemn and emotional the ritual could be. Four little kids were getting their yellow belt, the first belt in the sequence. There was a lot of bowing and smiling, with parents taking photo after photo. I watched, and for the first time in a long time, I wondered if I was missing out on something by not having kids.

When the ceremony was over Sifu Doug announced it was time to eat. He laid down the law that the kids should show respect by allowing their parents and elders to go through the line first. This was new to most of the kids. In Hawaii, the usual order of things is kids always get first dibs. But when Sifu Doug barked an order in his ex-Army Ranger voice, n.o.body argued.

I scooped up a bit of salad and Spam ca.s.serole and sat on the floor with my back to the wall. After Doug had made sure everyone had food and he'd posed for photos with each of the graduates, he came and sat by me.

"How you doin'?" he said. "I heard you were over on Kaua'i. And it looks like Farrah found the baby's mother."

In a small town like Pa'ia I would've been surprised if he hadn't heard.

"Yep. According to Farrah, she did her thing with the Ouija board and voila! she managed to track down the mother. I haven't met her yet. Steve says she's looking for a job."

"She cuts hair, right? I heard she's some kind of hair stylist or something."

I thought about the twins' perfectly cut hair and put two and two together. "I guess that's right."

"You know, Lani's got a friend who works down at the beauty shop at the Westin. I could ask her if they've got room for another girl." Sifu Doug wasn't much older than I but he refused to budge from talking like an old-timer. To him, all women were *girls' and anyone involved in manual labor was a *boy.' Luckily, he was such a nice guy no one took offense.

"Mahalo. But that's a pretty sw.a.n.ky salon for a homeless woman," I said. "You think they'd consider her?"

"All the more reason." Doug's world view matched his speech. He stuck to the ancient Polynesian philosophy of giving to each according to their needs. The most down-and-out should be helped first. To me, it ran counter to martial arts training where only the strong survive, but somehow he managed to play it from both sides.

He went on. "I hope you're okay that I told James not to call you. After Farrah and the mom got together over the weekend I figured it was cool. No sense borrowing trouble."

I put my plate down on the floor and drew my legs up under me. "I suppose. But I'm still worried the mother might change her mind."

"I doubt it," he said. "The whole town knows Moke is Farrah's now."

Doug got up and thanked everyone for coming to the promotion. Parents gathered up kids, ca.s.serole dishes and promotion certificates and ushered their broods outside. Inside, I started picking up trash and wiping sticky spilled punch off the training mats.

"Hey, thanks again for coming down," said Doug as he folded down the legs on the eight-foot serving tables and dragged them into the storage room.

"I know you want to get home to Lani and the kids, but can I talk to you for just a minute?"

"Sure. Fire away."

I filled him in on Peggy's death and how the Kaua'i cops had made me feel somehow responsible. "The autopsy showed she was heavily intoxicated, but they say it's *inconsistent' with normal blood alcohol readings. When she showed up where I was staying she was drunk, but not that drunk."

"Lots of stuff can make you act drunk," said Doug. "I took a bioterrorism cla.s.s in Army Ranger training. Maybe somebody poisoned her."

"Poisoned? But wouldn't a tox screen pick that up?"

"Hard to say. If it's something unusual, routine tox screens might not find it. I know they have to do special tests to check for things like anthrax and sarin."

I thanked him and went out to my car. I hadn't had a chance to get in a work out, but I felt more relaxed than I had in days.

CHAPTER 22.

I went in to my shop on Tuesday if for no other reason than to get out of the house and back to my normal routine. The phone on my desk wasn't blinking, which meant I had no messages. At about ten-thirty I wandered over to the Gadda da Vida but Farrah wasn't at the counter. Instead there was a young woman with silky black hair that nearly reached her waist.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Pali Moon. I own the wedding planning business next door."

"Oh, cool. I'm Shadow. Farrah told me about you. My kids and me stayed at your place this weekend." She nodded and kept nodding like one of those bobble-head dolls on a car dashboard. "Yeah, like thanks for letting us hang out there."

"You're welcome," I said. I felt guilty. I wondered how Farrah had framed my coming home and them having to find a new place to stay.

"So, now you're all staying at Hatch Deckers' place?"

"Yeah. He is so cool. A really sweet guy. And he just loves my kids."

I joined in the nodding but stopped after a couple of bobs to avoid the two of us looking like mating albatrosses.

"What did you come in for?" she said. She waved toward the aisles of groceries. "I'm trying to learn where everything is. A lady wanted lemon juice in a bottle and so far that's the only thing I still can't find. "

"It's on aisle six, top shelf," I said. "For some reason Farrah shelves it with the vinegar instead of the fruit juice."

"That makes total sense. Mahalo."

"Are you planning to be working here for long?" I said. As soon as I'd said it I realized it sounded kind of snarky. Like I wanted to kick her out of there too. "I mean, Farrah mentioned you've been looking for a job."

"Nah, I'm just helping out. Farrah offered to watch the kids today. I can't believe how cool she is. I mean, I was one inch from driving off a cliff after I had Moke. I got a great vibe off Farrah when I came in here a few days after he got born. You know, even though I was using food stamps and WIC vouchers and stuff she still treated me with respect. And she didn't sic the cops on me or nothing after I left Moke here. And then when she did her psychic thing and figured out it was me! I was totally blown away. She's totally righteous, you know?"

"That she is."

A group of four customers came in and I used the opportunity to slip out the back. I was headed for my shop when my cell phone chimed.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"h.e.l.lo Pali, it's Valentine Fabares. I haven't received your birth certificate yet. Did you fax it?"

I'd completely forgotten. "Oh sorry. I'll send it today. It's been crazy since I've been back. Not a minute's rest."

"I'm sure. Well I promised the court I'd submit everything this week so fax it over here as soon as possible, okay?"

"Will do."

I hung up and kept walking up the alley. My birth certificate was in a safety deposit box at the bank. I didn't keep it there because I was worried about losing it or having it stolen. It was there because the bank offered me a free deposit box when I opened my business account and I wanted to take advantage of every perk.

A sour-faced bank clerk took me into the vault and pulled out a skinny metal drawer from the bank of boxes. Then she ceremoniously placed it on a table in the middle of the room. In a hushed voice she said, "Take as long as you need. When you're finished, let me know and I'll lock it back up." Her demeanor was so glum I was sure if her bank job didn't work out she could easily snag a gig at the funeral home behind the hardware store.

I thanked her and rifled through the small stack of items in the box. There was my pa.s.sport, the deed to my house, and my birth certificate. I flipped open the pa.s.sport and stared at the photo. It looked like someone had goosed me a second before they'd snapped the picture. Even though my pa.s.sport had been issued in my real name, they'd allowed me to also add *Pali Moon' since I had so much ID showing that name.

I laid the pa.s.sport back in the box and took out my birth certificate. It had been folded into a business envelope with a post office box as the return address. When had I gotten it? I couldn't remember. I stuck the envelope in my purse and alerted the bank clerk I was done.

"That was fast," she said.

How long did she expect me to take? Did people go into the vault and try on every piece of their tutu's jewelry or count out bags of gold coins like a crazy miser?

We used our keys to lock the drawer in place and I thanked her.

"No, thank you for doing business with us here at Royal Hawaiian Bank and Trust." Forget the funeral job. It sounded like she was bucking for promotion. There were cameras everywhere so she must've hoped some bigwig was watching.

I took the birth certificate to my shop and plugged in my fax machine. I rarely used the thing but when I needed to send an important doc.u.ment I preferred it to a scanner. Who knows where a scanned file might end up on the Internet?

When the fax had gone through, I took the certificate out of the machine and looked at it. On the line for father they'd typed the name, Coyote P. Moon. How weird that for my entire life I'd known that name but didn't have a single clue about the person behind it. In my teen years I'd imagined my father to be someone famous. Maybe a rocker like Gene Simmons from Kiss or a world-cla.s.s athlete who'd had to leave when he got word he'd been selected for the 1976 Summer Olympics team.

Later, I found out about the legions of 1970's counter-culture kids who'd sc.r.a.ped together enough money to fly to Hawaii and then had just stuck around. They surfed and smoked weed and mooched off the government for as long as possible before either maturity or family pressure called them back to the mainland.

Apparently my father had fallen into the latter category.

I folded the birth certificate and put it back in the envelope. I sat at my desk, staring out the front window and pondering everything that had happened in the past week. I'd learned my precious mother had died trying to save my brother's dad from the police chief's pot-head son. And my dad had returned to Hawaii and became a wealthy businessman who chose to never reveal himself to me until he died. And then he'd willed me millions of dollars while totally excluding his other children. His first wife had just died in a drinking and driving wreck and, for some reason, the cops think I had something to do with it. Then, after all that, I come home to my best friend becoming a new mother and my "Rookie of the Year" boyfriend playing the gracious host to two women and three kids.

Last week had been over-the-moon bizarre. This week couldn't help but be better.