Stranded in Paradise (19 page)

“No, I can't. But you asked me what I thought. I think that's why you work so hard—you figure since you can't trust anyone to help you, you have to do it all on your own—the perfect career, the perfect life. . . .” He lowered his gaze to the counter. “I'm sorry. I have no right,” he said.

Tess had always been cognizant of her need for security. She'd accumulated quite a bit for her age. Stella's earlier words flashed through her mind.
Everything you own will be discarded, used up, or belong to someone else.

Sure she had a nice apartment, nice furnishings, made some good, solid investments, a healthy 401(k). She'd worked hard for what she had. She had never thought she could take it with her. She wasn't that naïve. Maybe she'd thought that her children would be the benefactors of her hard work, but then, she had no marriage prospects, no plans for children. So, what if the worst happened? What if
Alana
claimed her life? What would the long hours, pressure, incessant travel have done for her? Wasted her life?

Fierce winds pounded the sheets of plywood nailed across windows, and rain poured rivers through gutters. The restless hurricane seemed intent on showing its true force of power. The sea responded with a show of uncompromising strength as it hurled brutal waves against the battered shoreline.

Tess awoke around five A.M. from a brief nap and lay listening to the wind. Her stomach churned when she thought of being devoured by the angry sea. But a short distance away, Carter lay sleeping on the floor, strong and solid, a symbol of comfort. How had he managed to penetrate her heart in so short a time? His words of faith echoed like a voice in a canyon, resounding until her soul couldn't help but feel compelled to reply. It wasn't a strong answer. No. It was more a faint whisper, but it came nonetheless and reverberated through her soul. She wanted the desire Carter spoke of, the desire to believe. Now the only question was, how did she get this peace?

With the morning, the storm began to blow itself out. The ruthless winds calmed as the day lifted its head from behind gray clouds.

“Looks like it's about over,” Ben said from the front door. His perceptive eyes scanned the aftermath of destruction. “The old houses stood the test yet another time.”

Carter walked to the doorway and stood for a moment, listening. “Silence,” he said.

Outside, distant voices sounded up and down the beach. Residents had started to come out of houses.

Tess stretched lazily then touched the small of her back. The floor was hard as a brick. “Is it really over?” She combed her fingers through her tangled hair.

“It's stopped raining and the winds have let up.”

When they stepped out onto the patio a moment later, they were greeted with the sight of downed trees. Palm fronds carpeted the saturated ground. In the driveway, a power line hung, snakelike, over her rental car.

“Oh no, look at that,” she said. “Do you suppose it hurt the car mechanically?”

Carter squinted cautiously at the line. “I don't know, but we'd better stay clear until we know for sure the power's off.”

Turning their backs on the car, she and Carter headed out to inspect the beach. Stella was already out walking, Ben and Esther leading the way.

Debris covered a large area. A mattress floated lazily in the water. Sheets of plywood and dead sea life littered the shore. Tess spotted a New York Yankees hat, the lid to a blender, and a shower cap. One beach house's upper triangular walls had blown in. Carter picked his way among felled birds and fish tossed onto the shore while she followed close behind. Numerous buildings were blown down. A pair of men's pants hung in a palm tree. Briefly she closed her eyes to block out the vision of ruin. Where hours ago shopkeepers and tourists had bought and sold souvenirs and macadamia nuts, now the seaside town of Kihei looked like a war zone.

“And what, fair lady, shall we do on this tenth day of our lovely vacation?” Carter paused to stare at a beach chair bobbing in the ocean, his tone light but his eyes serious. “Want to try for ten pipers piping?”

“Naw, the nine drummers drove me nuts.” She regrouped and matched his tone. “But there's still so much we haven't done, Carter! Earthquakes, locust plagues, aviation disasters—”

Mentally, she began to rehearse the catalog of folly that had been her “vacation.” “Let's see what we
did
manage to accomplish—my cab had a blowout on the way to Stapleton. I had to run to make the flight and I turned my ankle in the process.”

“So? I had a miserable cold and my ears killed me on the flight over.” Carter stood poised for the battle of who-had-the-worst-vacation.

“Oh, how sad!” She grinned as the tension of the past hours gradually released.
Alana
had left behind destruction, but the storm had spared the island residents— she'd heard no report of death or serious injury. “You didn't have cold pills in your luggage?”

“I didn't
have
luggage by that time.”

“But you could have bought some Sudafed when you arrived at your hotel.”

“Oh, by then I had my luggage back.”

“You did?”

“Oh yeah. Only the hotel burned down, and I lost it again.”

“Oh, that hotel!” She was enjoying their game. “I was staying there. Pioneer Inn? Lovely historical place. When I had to vacate the room, I grabbed my makeup bag instead of my purse.”

“Go figure.”

“Then I spent half the day running around dressed in a blanket.”

He viewed her with mock surprise. “You're
that
woman?”

She sobered as her eyes skimmed the storm damage. It would take Kihei months to recover, but the little seaside town had heart. She remembered Beeg— safely in New York. What would Beeg do if she came home to find her gallery destroyed and her watercolors ruined?

Every earthly possession will be used up, given away, or belong to someone else.

She sighed. Carter reached out for her hand and she for his. “Heck of a vacation, Ms. Nelson. Who's your travel agent?”

She paused, then admitted, “Actually I was thinking your travel agent looks a little more . . . trustworthy.”

The damage to Stella's house was appreciable. Tiles had blown off the roof, shutters were damaged beyond repair. Downed tree limbs scattered the lawn. Snakes, insects, and rodents driven to higher ground were everywhere— causing more than a little anxiety for cleanup crews. Carter and Tess skirted puddles as they returned to the beach house. Carter coughed hollowly.

He smiled at her concerned look. “I need hot coffee. Lots of coffee.”

Ben, Esther, and Stella were still down the beach inspecting damage. They had the house to themselves. Pouring two cups of coffee, Carter sat down at the table.

Tess remained at the window, arms crossed, staring out.

“Coffee's getting cold.”

“I don't want coffee.”

He poured cream into his cup and stirred. “What do you want, Tess? Do you know?”

“How does anyone really know what they want?” she asked, her gaze still outside the one window Carter had freed from its plywood imprisonment.

“I suppose they don't,” Carter said quietly. “Not without serious thought about what's important to them.”

“I want to trust in God like you do,” she admitted. “But how do I do that?”

“A child stands on the edge of a swimming pool and says, ‘Daddy! Catch me!' and jumps almost before the words are out of his mouth. How does he know his daddy will catch him?”

“Because he always had caught him?”

“Childlike faith. The unwavering trust in his father, knowing that he's never dropped him, never failed to catch him. That's what faith in God is all about.”

Her top teeth worried her bottom lip. “I'm going home, Carter.”

He glanced up. His eyes darkened at the announcement. “There won't be any flights out for a few hours.”

“I know—but when there are I'm going back to Denver. I need to know that I'm not just feeling this way because of the strain of the storm. . . . I don't want to be a Christian in hard times. If this is real and true, it needs to be for always. I need to go home and think . . .”

Shoving back from the table, Carter said quietly, “Then as soon as the airport opens we'll get you a flight.”

Around eight o'clock, an employee from Pioneer Inn arrived. Rapping on the door, he stood on the back porch and waited. Tess spotted him through the kitchen window. Lifting the sill, she called, “May I help you?”

“Tess Nelson?”

She frowned. “I'm Tess.”

The boy waved an envelope. “This came for you day before yesterday. Sorry, because of the storm this was the soonest I could get here.”

Drying her hand on a towel, she went to open the door. When she looked inside the envelope, she found a voucher for five hundred dollars and a note from Mona.

Life hasn't been easy without Roy; money is always tight.
I will need the cash back as soon as you can repay it. Mona.

Tess felt hot tears sting her eyes. She'd sent the money. Mona had not let her down. For the first time in her life, Mom had come through.

Her throat ached from the lump of emotion suddenly blocking her windpipe.

17

A power company crew working the area late Sunday night removed the line from Tess's rental car. Unfortunately, the jolt of power from the line had zapped the car's electronic ignition system, leaving the vehicle undriveable. Stella immediately offered her the use of her battered truck.

After stowing her soot-covered bags in the back of the Chevy pickup Monday morning, Carter climbed into the driver's seat. Air traffic out of Kahului Airport had resumed operation. Main throughways had been cleared of power lines and debris.

Stella carried Henry in her arms as she walked Tess out to the truck. “I know you want to go home. You have choices to make about your job, and I trust you will make those decisions wisely. But I have so much enjoyed knowing you, having you here.” She smiled fondly at Carter. “Both of you. You are welcome in my home any time. And I pray the Lord will return you someday to Maui—preferably under more pleasant conditions. The island really is paradise, you know.”

Tess smiled though tears stung her eyes. The former movie queen turned to address Carter, “Now, young man, you are to spend the remainder of the afternoon with me. I'll have Fredrick prepare us a nice fruit tray— the pineapple is extra sweet this year—”

The old woman turned as a white-haired gentleman rounded the corner of the house. She broke into a beam. “Fredrick!”

Tess gaped at Carter.

“Stella, my dear.” The distinguished gent dressed in a white suit and spats—yes, spats—bent to place a succinct kiss on each of Stella's red-rouged cheeks. “I have been so worried about you. I trust you made it through the storm without any real harm?” His eyes lifted to curiously size up the two strangers.

Stella introduced Tess and Carter and explained how they had come to stay with her.

“The Lord was with us, Fredrick. And my new friends have been with me all the time—and Ben and Esther.”

“I am so relieved to know that Stella had someone to keep her company,” Fredrick confessed as he shook Carter's hand. “I wanted to call, but heavy trade winds took my phone lines down two days ago.”

“Good to meet you, Fredrick.” Carter grinned. “Tess and I were beginning to wonder if you really existed.”

“Oh, indeed I do, kind sir. Indeed I do.” With a snap of his heels, Fredrick bowed. “If you will excuse me, I must see to the house, and Stella's lunch.”

Draping an arm around Stella's waist, Tess steered her new friend to the passenger side of the cab. “You've been wonderful to both Carter and me. I wish I knew how to thank you.”

“Oh, my dear, it is I who should be thanking you. You and Carter have brought sunshine into my life—even in the midst of a storm.” For a split second, Stella embraced her. “You will stay in touch? Perhaps give an old lady a call occasionally?”