Kaua'i Me A River Part 6

That's what I love about Hatch. He always knows how to make me feel better.

The road out to Ke'e Beach was curvy and narrow, but there wasn't much traffic. It was just after one o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. Too late for surfers and way too early for sunset-watchers. I went over a series of one-lane bridges and past gaping dry caves. But when I got to the end of the road at Ke'e Beach I was surprised to find the parking lot completely full. And, for a quarter mile, cars were parked head-to-toe alongside the road.

I pulled into a spot reserved for emergency vehicles and headed down to the beach. I wouldn't be long. I'd heard a lot about Taylor Camp by eavesdropping on my Auntie Mana as she told stories at family gatherings. I'd looked it up on the Internet and learned the camp had been located between Limahuli Stream and what was now Ke'e Beach Park. It mentioned a trail on the mauka or inland edge of the park that led to where the camp had once been. Sure enough, I found a wide trail to the right of the park restrooms. After about a hundred yards, I had the strange sensation I was being followed. I turned in a complete circle but couldn't see anyone. I continued down the trail. The vegetation became thick, with towering trees and low scrub blocking out the sunlight. Philodendron vines snaked up the trunks making it hard to tell where one tree stopped and another started. I came to a copse of mature trees at least fifty to sixty feet tall. Were these trees where the hippies had built their tree houses? It seemed impossible to imagine. I stood in the center of the thicket and closed my eyes and tried to still my mind. But as I breathed in the scent of ocean and rotting leaves, I once again got the sensation of someone watching. I snapped my eyes open and looked around. There were a few people far down on the beach, but no one looked my way.

I'd been barely a toddler when Taylor Camp was shut down. The tree in front of me had three huge branches that formed a crook. It would have made a great foundation for a tree house. The main platform could've spanned the branches and extended to nearby trees.

The hippies at Taylor Camp were tolerated by the locals, but just barely. After more than a few run-ins with the law regarding their rampant drug use, the authorities decided it was time to shut the place down. They evicted the squatters and came in and burned the camp.

When we moved from Taylor Camp my mom had a new man in her life, my brother's father. I'd called him Uncle Ricky or Robby-something like that. But right around the time my mother died, Uncle What's-His-Name disappeared, just like my dad. I don't recall ever mourning his departure. I guess it was because with my mother gone my life was pretty much already in free-fall.

I walked out of the trees and out to the beach. I looked to the horizon, where I'd last seen the surfboards and canoes taking my mom's ashes out to sea.

"Love you, Mom. I'm sorry I didn't go on that last journey with you. But I've never forgotten." I put my hand over my heart like I was saying the Pledge of Allegiance. Then I felt the presence watching me again and, embarra.s.sed, I put my hand back down.

I whispered, "G.o.dspeed to you, Mom, wherever you are." Then I jogged back to where I'd parked the car.

The drive to Poipu turned out to be easier than I'd imagined. Maybe it's because there's only one way to get from Ha.n.a.lei to the South Sh.o.r.e of Kaua'i and it's an easy, mostly-two lane road that follows the coastline. There were few distractions and little traffic. I hadn't eaten lunch but I wasn't hungry.

"Hey babe," said Hatch as I came into the lobby. He got up from a comfy-looking chair and hugged me.

I looked up at him. Staring into his anxious brown eyes I felt my throat start to close up. My eyes burned.

"Let's go to the room," I croaked. I made it through the lobby and down the walkway before I felt a tickle on my cheek. I swiped away a tear. Then my nose started in. When I snuffed it up, Hatch dug around in his pocket and handed me a wadded-up tissue.

"It's kinda mashed up, but it's clean," he said.

"Mahalo," I said. "I must be getting a cold or something."

We got to the room and as Hatch closed the door behind us, something inside me shattered. Hatch led me to the sofa and we sat down. He put an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, hoping to blot out the memory of the last four hours.

After a few minutes of silence, I launched into an account of why Valentine Fabares had asked me to come to Kaua'i "The lawyer read your dad's will?" Hatch said. "And you say he left you some money?"

I'd soft-peddled the enormity of my inheritance. I still hadn't decided how I felt about it, and I didn't know how long probate might take, so the less said the better.

"Yeah. He was a businessman. Owned a company here in the islands."

"What was his name?"

"Phillip J. Wilkerson, the Third."

"The Third? Boy howdy, sounds like you come from some upper-crust folks."

"Either that or my grandparents were too lazy to come up with an original name."

"Maybe that's why your father got so creative when he named you."

I blew out a sigh.

"You say he lived here in Hawaii?"

"I guess so. He said he started his company in the eighties."

"Then why didn't he come get you after your mom died?"

Good question, but not one I cared to ponder. "From the looks of things, ditching people was something he was really good at," I said.

"Oh?" Hatch leaned away and raised an eyebrow.

"The guy had six wives. Five exes and a widow. The widow is a thirty-year-old ma.s.seuse who took care of him while he was dying. There were so many women at the meeting I had to take notes to keep them all straight." I grabbed my purse and pulled out the notebook. "Wife number five didn't bother to show up. Numbers two and four seemed okay, but number one was completely full of herself and number three looked like a hooker."

"Wow. And your dad never married your mom, right?"

"What are you getting at, Hatch?" When I was a kid, I'd always feared being called *the b-word.' Now that I was a grown woman *the b-word' stood for something entirely different. At least with the second *b-word' I had some control over whether it was justified or not.

"Don't get your back up," he said. "What I mean is if they'd been married he would've had seven wives. Kind of a record. But maybe that's why he included you in his will. He didn't do right by your mom, so he wanted to do right by you."

"Maybe."

"Did you find out if you have any newfound brothers or sisters?"

"Oh yeah. He had seven other kids besides me."

"Seven? Wow, that's great."

"You think?"

"Sure. You've finally got a big ohana. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

"I guess." I didn't want to go into how Phil had set it up so there was zero chance I'd ever be invited to family gatherings or get to play auntie to any nieces or nephews. My pariah status would come out soon enough. "The last wife, Sunny, was really friendly. She invited me to stay with her when I come back for probate court."

"That's good. Hey, did you have any lunch?" he said. "I meant to bring you some pizza but those guys were animals. Ate every last slice. Let's go grab something down by the pool."

At the poolside grill I ordered a cheeseburger with curly fries. I don't usually allow myself to eat stuff like that, but the morning's events had kicked my self-discipline to the curb.

While we ate, a guy in his late twenties came to the pool holding hands with a tiny girl in a pink polka-dotted swimsuit. They got in the water and the little girl clung to the guy's back while he hauled her around.

"More, daddy, more," squealed the little girl.

"In a little bit," said the dad. "But first I'm going to teach you to swim. First, you need to put your face in the water."

The little girl looked up at him and shook her head. Her wet curls threw off water droplets like a dog shaking itself after a bath.

"Don't be afraid, honey. I'm right here," he said.

After a couple of chin-deep efforts praised by her father, she finally dunked her entire head under.

"Good girl," he crowed, grabbing her when she popped back up. "I'm so proud of you, Ava."

I pushed my plate away. "You know, I'm probably the only kid in Hawaii who never learned to swim."

Hatch shot me a pained look. "Oh come on. It's not like you to play the victim card."

"I know," I said. "I'm just saying."

"Message received. Your dad was a jerk. Well, remind me someday to tell you about my old man. If misery loves company, you'll love my company when we compare your AWOL dad to my drunk and disorderly one."

"Point taken."

"Hey, look at the time," said Hatch. "We've got a plane to catch."

We packed up and headed to the airport. The flight to Maui was uneventful except for me garnering stink eye from the flight attendant when my phone went off during the *in the event of an emergency' announcement.

I checked the caller ID before flicking off the phone "Who was it?" said Hatch.

"Just Farrah. She's probably just checking to make sure we made our flight. I suppose when you live your entire life in one building, keeping track of everyone else's comings and goings is a big deal. I'll call her when we land."

We retrieved Hatch's car from long-term parking. He gallantly opened the pa.s.senger door for me before going around to the driver's side. "You want to go straight home or stop off at your shop?"

"Would you mind dropping me at Farrah's? I need to tell her about the trip. Since you're on s.h.i.+ft in the morning you probably shouldn't wait. I'll ask Steve to come down and get me later."

"I really don't mind waiting."

"That's sweet, but I've been gone three days. Farrah will demand a minute by minute accounting."

We pulled in front of the Gadda da Vida Grocery and I leaned over and gave Hatch a kiss. I went for the real thing, not a little *thanks for everything' peck on the mouth.

"Whoa. Maybe I should wait for you after all," he said.

"No, that's got to keep you going until this weekend. I've got a ton of stuff to catch up on at work. I've got that big Lindberg wedding on the Fourth and I'm way behind in doing my vendor follow-up calls. If Eleanor catches even a whiff of me slacking off she'll probably demand I cut my commission in half."

"Okay, but we're still on for Sat.u.r.day, right? I've got that firefighter awards dinner in Wailea."

"You never told me, are you up for an award?"

"Who knows? But it's at the ballroom of the Grand Wailea. Award or no award it'll be first cla.s.s all the way."

"It's a date."

I went inside. I was surprised to see Beatrice working the counter so late in the evening. Beatrice is an ancient lady who often comes in while Farrah takes lunch. She occasionally helps out if Farrah has a tarot reading in the afternoon, but I've never seen her at the store after dark.

"Hey Bea, how's it shakin'?" I said. I talked loud, since Bea has a hearing problem. She says it's only in one ear, but from what I can tell neither ear works any better than the other one.

"A snake? You seen a snake?" Bea looked horrified. "We gotta kill it. No good to have snakes in the islands."

"No," I said waving my hand. I went up to her and talked as if I was in an elocution contest. "No snake. I just came in to say *hi'. Do you know where Farrah is?"

Bea scrutinized my face. "She say she not feeling so good. I'm working all day. I gotta sit down sometimes on this little stool. You know, I got the arthur in my knees."

I nodded and pointed at the ceiling rather than ask if Farrah was upstairs in her apartment.

Bea nodded.

"Mahalo," I said. "I'll go on up."

"Oh, good luck to you too, Pali."

I went out the back door and climbed the stairs to Farrah's apartment. A searing blue-white security light came on when I hit the fourth stair. I knocked and waited for her to scrutinize me through the peep hole.

As soon as the door opened I knew something was up.

CHAPTER 10.

The unmistakable odor of *baby'-wet diapers, baby powder and milk-was all over Farrah. She looked like she'd been working in the cane fields all day. Matted hair, haggard face, slumped shoulders.

"What's going on?" I said.

"Come in. This is going to totally blow your mind."

In daytime, Farrah's apartment is always dimly lit because she's covered her windows in fake stained gla.s.s contact paper. When the sun goes down she usually turns on a few lights but there were no lights on when I went inside. But even in the near-darkness it didn't take long for me to locate the source of the smell. A tiny baby, most probably a newborn, was lying on a tattered blanket in the middle of the room. It wore nothing but a disposable diaper and a benign smile. The kid was half-heartedly kicking its arms and legs. I'm not exactly a *baby person.' To me, the little creature looked like a bug on its back trying to right itself.

"What's going on?" I said again. "Can you turn on a light here?"

She snapped on a table lamp. "You leave for a few days and see what happens?" she said. She was positively beaming.

Okay, this was a first, even for Farrah. Last year she'd mistaken the gender of her dog, Sir Lipton, and *he'd' had puppies. I'd found that almost unbelievable, but Farrah not realizing she was pregnant and about to give birth? Not even Farrah's ubiquitous billowy mu'u mu'u dresses could have concealed that state of affairs.

"Farrah? What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

"Okay, he's not mine," she said. "Well, he's mine, but not technically. Yet."

"Have you still got some of that *Awake' tea?" I said. "I'm gonna make us some. And then you're going to tell me everything." I went to Farrah's miniscule kitchenette and filled the tea kettle. Then I rummaged through her bread box-sized cupboard and found a tea tin with a picture of a guy with sunbeams shooting out of his head. The label read, *AWAKE TEA, Not Your Grandma's Cuppa'.

By the time the tea had steeped, the baby had nodded off. I carried two cups into the living room dodging cast-off clothes, a heap of wadded-up bath towels, and Lipton's s...o...b..ry dog toys.

"This isn't the most sanitary environment for a baby," I whispered. "Does the mother know you live like this?"

"I'm the mother around here," said Farrah in a hissed voice. "I'm exposing Baby to the rigors of this Earthly world. How can he build a strong immune system if his body doesn't learn to make peace with normal physical surroundings?"