The Ohana Part 13

Katherine withdrew her hand and glared at him. "You're patronizing me! I'm not a child. I'll prove it to you!"

Sean stepped back. "You're a lovely woman, Miss Ritchie, who will break many hearts. After the war is over, you won't be interested in a broken down old soldier like me."

She stood and kissed him on the cheek while pressing something into his hand. "For luck." Before he could protest, she was gone.

He looked down and saw a carved Hawaiian gold pendant on the end of a chain with the word, Kuuipo-sweetheart-written in black. Sean smiled as he put it around his neck.

Mary recognized Sean the minute he walked into the gift shop where she worked. He looked around at the merchandise before stopping in front of a gla.s.s case full of music boxes.

Mary whispered to the other salesgirl Helen, "Let me have this one. I know him."

Helen shrugged and kept reading her book. "Go ahead."

Mary walked purposefully to Sean. "Can I help you?"

"Yes I'd like to see some music boxes, please." Sean kept his eyes were on the various music boxes.

"Any one in particular?"

"That one looks nice." He pointed to a miniature carousel.

Mary opened the case, removed the music box and smiled. "The song is 'Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush.'"

Sean shook his head, "It's not very appropriate, I'm afraid." Peering at her, he said, "Excuse me, but you look familiar."

Mary grinned. "Remember Mary? From Kohala?"

Sean's face lit up. "You're the girl who loves books! How could I forget such a pretty face? How are you?"

"Fine, thank you," Mary put the music box back on the shelf. "Are you looking for a music box for someone special?"

"Yes," he paused. "But I'm afraid I'm not very good at this."

"I have just the thing." She took out a music box with a dancing couple and wound it. The figurines swirled around to a haunting melody.

Sean touched the figure of the blond girl. "What's the song?"

"Der Litzle Walzer, The Last Waltz," Mary watched the figurines twirling. It was her favorite music box. "You know it?"

"Yes. It's perfect, thank you." Sean handed the music box to her. His fingers brushed against hers.

Mary felt something stir between them. But it was only her imagination, she decided. "Are you off to war like the rest of the young men?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because many young men come in here to buy gifts for their sweethearts to remember them by before they leave. Music boxes are sentimental favorites of both men and women."

"Then you have found me out. I'm off to join the war effort."

Mary felt his eyes on her as she walked to the register. "I hope whoever you're giving this box to saves the last waltz for you."

"I hope so too, Mary."

Mary turned and looked into his blue eyes bright with hope and desire. For one brief, irrational moment, she envied the woman who was able to do that to him.

Sean stood before the ma.s.sive front door of Meg's home. As it swung open, he wondered if she would see him.

The j.a.panese maid who opened the door stared, "Who you?"

"Please tell Mrs. Brandon Sean Duffy is calling."

"I tell." the maid, closed the door. After a few minutes, she returned and muttered, "Missus say she see you in library."

Sean followed Meg's housekeeper to a dark sitting room. Meg was standing behind a Koa Wood rocker, one hand crossed over her breast, ma.s.saging her shoulder. Her eyes were frosty lights, and her hair was wild, as if it hadn't been brushed for days. The muumuu she wore was slightly disheveled.

When she saw him she blanched and grabbed the back of the rocker as if it were a life raft. "Why are you here?"

Meg reeked of alcohol.

"To say goodbye."

"Why? Did you join the army?"

"It's my patriotic duty."

"Is that what you call it?" Meg snorted. "Tell me, please, why would you risk dying? For our government? Our money? Our system? Or is it guilt?" She giggled.

Her drunken words rang true. He needed to atone. How could she have guessed that? "Does it matter? Isn't it enough I'm going?"

Meg wobbled, "There are too many whys we must answer before it's too late."

Sean took her hands in his and sat her down in a rocking chair. He knelt in front of her, still holding onto her hands. "I need you to try to understand."

"Don't waste your time. Can't you see I'm drunk?" She pulled her hands away. "Disgusting, isn't it?"

"All I see is a desperately unhappy woman," Sean touched the hem of her sleeve. "I would give anything to make you happy."

Meg chortled. "All men are full of cheap lines and false promises."

"Let me help you." Sean took her hand in his and kissed its palm.

"No. It's too late." She pushed him away.

"I bought something for you." He handed her the present he brought. But when she refused to take it, he unwrapped it, and wound it up. The dancers spun on the tabletop. When the music stopped, he looked at her.

Meg stood. She began to shake and sway. "You don't understand. It's too late. There's nothing left."

Sean stood and faced her. "I don't believe that."

"Believe it. I'm sorry," Meg shrank from him. "There's no hope for me. I'm dead inside. Please forget me."

"I could never forget you." Sean put out his hand.

Meg backed away.

"Will you at least keep this as a token from me?"

"No." She shook her head. "Just leave...now."

Sean wasn't in the habit of forcing gifts on anyone. He picked up the music box and left.

Mary was locking up the store when Sean arrived with the music box in his hand. "Your lady friend didn't like the music box?" she asked.

"She wouldn't take it." Sean handed Mary the unwrapped parcel. "Here," he said. "For you."

Mary looked down at the music box, then up at him. She knew how it felt to be rejected. She didn't know why but she wanted to help make his pain go away. Embarra.s.sed, she looked down at the music box, then placed it on the counter between them. "It seems you're always giving me something."

He took her hands in his. "Forgive me for being forward, but would you have dinner with me?" he took her hands in his.

"I don't know." She pulled her hands away.

"Please. I s.h.i.+p out tomorrow. I don't have anyone to see before I leave."

Mary looked into the earnest blue eyes that had captivated her earlier. "Actually, I was just on my way home from work." What was she doing? He was haole! She couldn't let her roommates see him. It would ruin her reputation. But then she found herself saying, "But if we can go now ..."

He looked relieved. "Great. Chinese? American? What's your pleasure?"

"American," she laughed. "Definitely American."

Mary had a wonderful time. They laughed and talked about Kohala, Uncle Patrick, and how they expected Hawaii to change after the war. After dinner, they danced on the restaurant's dance floor. When Sean put his arm around her waist and took her hand in his, something magical happened. She forgot their differences. They were just two people who'd grown up in Kohala saying aloha to the world they knew.

Mary closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. Forgetting all the heartache that had swirled around her since her father's death, she embraced the music and the moment. She felt Sean's fingers stroke the small of her back and was comforted by the intimacy.

After the dance, they sat across the table from each other. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. His eyes met hers and she looked away, afraid of her own need to be loved and cherished. She was tired of being alone and tired of being a samurai woman who never showed her true feelings.

On the way home, Mary's heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. But as she fell Sean grabbed her around the waist. She looked up into his eyes and was stunned by his intensity. With his arm still around her waist, he tilted her chin and kissed her under a golden shower tree. The gentle kiss grew more pa.s.sionate by the second. She wondered if the goose b.u.mps on her arm were because of the trade winds or something else.

Mary heard the screams of a peac.o.c.k mixed with the soft patter of rain outside Sean's bedroom. The rain cooled the evening but she was only aware of the heat of her flesh against Sean. She felt his rippling muscles and marveled at his strength. As they fell pa.s.sionately into each other, time was suspended, and no one else existed for Mary.

Need turned into an act of love. Strangely enough she felt no guilt, just a sense of relief she was capable of pa.s.sion and desire even in the final act. For just one night, she could pretend she belonged to someone who loved her. Life wasn't a gigantic dead end after all. There could be moments of happiness, like stars twinkling on the dark and moonless landscape of her lonely life.

Sean was a bright light entering her universe, weaving a curious spell. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"I'll write to you," Sean promised as he kissed her fingers.

Mary put a finger to his lips. "Don't make promises you don't intend to keep."

"I intend to keep my promise. Last night was special." He put his arms around her and drew her close to him.

"A soldier's last night." Mary spoke into his neck, afraid to look into his eyes.

"It was much more than that." Sean stroked her gently. "Last night will take me through the war. Will you write to me as well?"

Mary put her head on his chest. "If you write to me, I'll write you back." She looked up at him again. "If you don't, I'll know it was just a soldier's last night."

And then he kissed her.

The first person Sean wrote to from his barracks was Mary. He wanted her to know she had given him a night of such happiness, he forgot everything else. He wanted to see her again when he returned. To do so would mean they would have to break the unwritten rules separating the races in Hawaii. If she didn't write back, he would understand there were some things in life too much to ask of anyone.

With that in mind, he mailed the letter.

For a month, Mary asked her landlord daily if there were any letters for her from overseas. As time pa.s.sed with no letter, Mary became angry at herself for not only getting lost in the moment but for the hope he had given her. Despite her anger, she caught herself thinking of him during vagrant moments. Sometimes, she would take out the music box and watch the dancers swirl around on the tiny dance floor. Playing the box reconnected her to that time when she felt as if she had always known him. She had even fooled herself into thinking there was something special between them, that he actually cared.

Perhaps someday there would be a conclusion to the matter. Perhaps he would always hold a special place in her heart. At least he released her from thinking there could never be anyone else in her life but Mitsuo.

Funny, she had never made love to Mits...o...b..cause she was afraid her first experience would pollute something which should have been beautiful. Yet she had allowed this almost-stranger to cross the line. Even she didn't understand why. All she knew was Sean freed from the ugliness of being a rape victim. She didn't have to stay stuck in that place anymore. He made her realize making love could be a wonderful and fulfilling act. The pa.s.sion she felt for that one moment was real. Her world of feelings hadn't died after all. She was alive and on the road to healing her broken heart.

Sean brought her a gift. She needed to be content and not look to the universe for anything more. Or so she told herself.

Chapter Twenty.

George Han sat in a barber's chair. The woman cutting his hair swung him in a slow, fluid motion until the chair faced the outside windows.

George raised his chin. His line of vision provided him with a clear view of the telephone pole and the man who slouched against it. Even before he saw the bulge under the man's brightly colored aloha s.h.i.+rt, George Han knew the man was bad news.

He turned to the lady barber, "Got a back door?"

She c.o.c.ked her head toward the rear of the shop. "The alley stay behind the screen."

"You nevah see me, okay, sista?" George lapsed into Pidgin English as he always did when speaking to locals.

The woman nodded. "I no even know you."

George slipped a ten into the pocket of her ap.r.o.n. She smiled and said, "Mahalo, thanks brudda. No worry, I take care. I turn my back, wash combs like that, and you when disappear." She winked.

George looked out the window; the man was reading a newspaper. "Thanks." He handed her another dollar for the haircut.

"He look plenty mean," she warned. "No fool around."

"Try not to." George slipped out the back door. Once outside, he put his hands in his pockets and walked down the narrow alley.