Island of Flowers Read online

  her waist. She could feel the heat of his body through the dampness of her blouse. Dark tendrils of hair fell over his forehead, and without thought, Laine lifted her hand to smooth them back. There was something sweetly ordinary about being in his arms, as if it were a place she had been countless times before and would come back to countless times again. She felt her love bursting to be free.

  “You’re getting wet,” she murmured, dropping her hand to his cheek.

  “So are you.” Though his fingers tightened on her waist, he drew her no closer.

  “I don’t mind.”

  With a sigh, Dillon rested his chin on the top of her head. “Miri’ll punch me out if I let you catch a chill.”

  “I’m not cold,” she murmured, finding indescribable pleasure in their closeness.

  “You’re shivering.” Abruptly, Dillon brought her to his side and began to walk. “We’ll go into my office, and you can dry out before I take you home.”

  As they walked, the rain slowed to a mist. Fingers of sunlight began to strain through, brushing away the last stubborn drops. Laine surveyed the complex. She remembered the building which housed Dillon’s office from the tour she had taken with her father. With a grin, she pushed damp hair from her eyes and pulled away from Dillon. “Race you,” she challenged, and scrambled over wet pavement.

  He caught her, laughing and breathless, at the door. With a new ease, Laine circled his neck as they laughed together. She felt young and foolish and desperately in love.

  “You’re quick, aren’t you?” Dillon observed, and she tilted her head back to meet his smile.

  “You learn to be quick when you live in a dormitory. Competition for the bath is brutal.” Laine thought she saw his smile begin to fade before they were interrupted.

  “Dillon, I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  Glancing over, Laine saw a young woman with classic bone structure, her raven hair pulled taut at the nape of a slender neck. The woman returned Laine’s survey with undisguised curiosity. Blushing, Laine struggled out of Dillon’s arms.

  “It’s all right, Fran. This is Laine Simmons, Cap’s daughter. Fran’s my calculator.”

  “He means secretary,” Fran returned with an exasperated sigh.

  “But this afternoon I feel more like an answering service. You have a dozen phone messages on your desk.”

  “Anything urgent?” As he asked, he moved into an adjoining room.

  “No.” Fran gave Laine a friendly smile. “Just several people who didn’t want to make a decision until they heard from Mount Olympus. I told them all you were out for the day and would get back to them tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Walking back into the room, Dillon carried a handful of papers and a towel. He tossed the towel at Laine before he studied the papers.

  “I thought you were supposed to be taking a few days off,” Fran stated while Dillon muttered over his messages.

  “Um-hum. There doesn’t seem to be anything here that can’t wait.”

  “I’ve already told you that.” Fran snatched the papers out of his hand.

  “So you did.” Unabashed, Dillon grinned and patted her cheek. “Did you ask Orchid what she wanted?”

  Across the room, Laine stopped rubbing the towel against her hair, then began again with increased speed.

  “No, though after the third call, I’m afraid I became a bit abrupt with her.”

  “She can handle it,” Dillon returned easily, then switched his attention to Laine. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” Feeling curiously deflated, Laine crossed the room and handed Dillon the towel. “Thank you.”

  “Sure.” Casually, he tossed the damp towel to Fran. “See you tomorrow, cousin.”

  “Yes, master.” Fran shot Laine a friendly wave before Dillon hustled her from the building.

  With a great deal of effort, Laine managed to thrust Orchid King from her mind during the drive home and throughout the evening meal. The sun was just setting when she settled on the porch with Dillon and her father.

  The sky’s light was enchanting. The intense, tropical blue was breaking into hues of gold and crimson, the low, misted clouds streaked with pinks and mauves. There was something dreamlike and soothing in the dusk. Laine sat quietly in a wicker chair, thinking over her day as the men’s conversation washed over her. Even had she understood their exchange, she was too lazily content to join in. She knew that for the first time in her adult life, she was both physically and mentally relaxed. Perhaps, she mused, it was the adventures of the past few days, the testing of so many untried feelings and emotions.

  Mumbling about coffee, Cap rose and slipped inside the house. Laine gave him an absent smile as he passed her, then curled her legs under her and watched the first stars blink into life.

  “You’re quiet tonight.” As Dillon leaned back in his chair, Laine heard the soft click of his lighter.

  “I was just thinking how lovely it is here.” Her sigh drifted with contentment. “I think it must be the loveliest place on earth.”

  “Lovelier than Paris?”

  Hearing the edge in his voice, Laine turned to look at him questioningly. The first light of the moon fell gently over her face. “It’s very different from Paris,” she answered. “Parts of Paris are beautiful, mellowed and gentled with age. Other parts are elegant or dignified. She is like a woman who has been often told she is enchanting. But the beauty here is more primitive. The island is ageless and innocent at the same time.”

  “Many people tire of innocence.” Dillon shrugged and drew deeply on his cigarette.

  “I suppose that’s true,” she agreed, unsure why he seemed so distant and so cynical.

  “In this light, you look a great deal like your mother,” he said suddenly, and Laine felt her skin ice over.

  “How do you know? You never met my mother.”

  “Cap has a picture.” Dillon turned toward her, but his face was in shadows. “You resemble her a great deal.”

  “She certainly does.” Cap sauntered out with a tray of coffee in his hands. Setting it on a round glass table, he straightened and studied Laine. “It’s amazing. The light will catch you a certain way, or you’ll get a certain expression on your face. Suddenly, it’s your mother twenty years ago.”

  “I’m not Vanessa.” Laine sprang up from her seat, and her voice trembled with rage. “I’m nothing like Vanessa.” To her distress, tears began to gather in her eyes. Her father looked on in astonishment. “I’m nothing like her. I won’t be compared to her.” Furious with both the men and herself, Laine turned and slammed through the screen door. On her dash for the stairs, she collided with Miri’s substantial form. Stuttering an apology, she streaked up the stairs and into her room.

  Laine was pacing around her room for the third time when Miri strolled in.

  “What is all this running and slamming in my house?” Miri asked, folding her arms across her ample chest.

  Shaking her head, Laine lowered herself to the bed, then, despising herself, burst into tears. Clucking her tongue and muttering in Hawaiian, Miri crossed the room. Soon Laine found her head cradled against a soft, pillowing bosom. “That Dillon,” Miri muttered as she rocked Laine to and fro.

  “It wasn’t Dillon,” Laine managed, finding the maternal comfort new and overwhelming. “Yes, it was … it was both of them.” Laine had a sudden desperate need for reassurance. “I’m nothing like her, Miri. I’m nothing like her at all.”

  “Of course you are not.” Miri patted Laine’s blond curls. “Who is it you are not like?”

  “Vanessa.” Laine brushed away tears with the back of her hand. “My mother. Both of them were looking at me, saying how much I look like her.”

  “What is this? What is this? All these tears because you look like someone?” Miri pulled Laine away by the shoulders and shook her. “Why do you waste your tears on this? I think you’re a smart girl, then you act stupid.”

  “You don’t understand.” Laine drew up her knees and rested her ch
in on them. “I won’t be compared to her, not to her. Vanessa was selfish and self-centered and dishonest.”

  “She was your mother,” Miri stated with such authority that Laine’s mouth dropped open. “You will speak with respect of your mother. She is dead, and whatever she did is over now. You must bury it,” Miri commanded, giving Laine another shake, “or you will never be happy. Did they say you were selfish and self-centered and dishonest?”

  “No, but …”

  “What did Cap Simmons say to you?” Miri demanded.

  Laine let out a long breath. “He said I looked like my mother.”

  “And do you, or does he lie?”

  “Yes, I suppose I do, but …”

  “So, your mother was a pretty woman, you are a pretty woman.” Miri lifted Laine’s chin with her thick fingers. “Do you know who you are, Laine Simmons?”

  “Yes, I think I do.”

  “Then you have no problem.” Miri patted her cheek and rose.

  “Oh, Miri.” Laine laughed and wiped her eyes again. “You make me feel very foolish.”

  “You make yourself feel foolish,” Miri corrected. “I did not slam doors.”

  Laine sighed over Miri’s logic. “I suppose I’ll have to go down and apologize.”

  As Laine stood, Miri folded her arms and blocked her way. “You will do no such thing.”

  Staring at her, Laine let out a frustrated breath. “But you just said …”

  “I said you were stupid, and you were. Cap Simmons and Dillon were also stupid. No woman should be compared to another woman. You are special, you are unique. Sometimes men see only the face.” Miri tapped a finger against each of her cheeks. “It takes them longer to see what is inside. So—” she gave Laine a white-toothed smile “—you will not apologize, you will let them apologize. It is the best way.”

  “I see,” Laine said, not seeing at all. Suddenly, she laughed and sat back on the bed. “Thank you, Miri, I feel much better.”

  “Good. Now go to bed. I will go lecture Cap Simmons and Dillon.” There was an unmistakable note of anticipation in her voice.

  Chapter Eight

  The following morning Laine descended the stairs, her Nile-green sundress floating around her, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. Feeling awkward after the previous evening’s incident, Laine paused at the doorway of the dining room. Her father and Dillon were already at breakfast and deep in discussion.

  “If Bob needs next week off, I can easily take his shift on the charters.” Dillon poured coffee as he spoke.

  “You’ve got enough to do at your own place without taking that on, too. Whatever happened to those few days off you were going to take?” Cap accepted the coffee and gave Dillon a stern look.

  “I haven’t exactly been chained to my desk the past week.” Dillon grinned, then shrugged as Cap’s expression remained unchanged. “I’ll take some time off next month.”

  “Where have I heard that before?” Cap asked the ceiling. Dillon’s grin flashed again.

  “I didn’t tell you I was retiring next year, did I?” Dillon sipped coffee casually, but Laine recognized the mischief in his voice. “I’m going to take up hang gliding while you slave away behind a desk. Who are you going to nag if I’m not around every day?”

  “When you can stay away for more than a week at a time,” Cap countered, “that’s when I’m going to retire. The trouble with you—” he wagged a spoon at Dillon in admonishment “—is that your mind’s too good and you’ve let too many people find it out. Now you’re stuck because nobody wants to make a move without checking with you first. You should’ve kept that aeronautical-engineering degree a secret. Hang gliding.” Cap chuckled and lifted his cup. “Oh, hello, Laine.”

  Laine jolted at the sound of her name. “Good morning,” she replied, hoping that her outburst the evening before had not cost her the slight progress she had made with her father.

  “Is it safe to ask you in?” His smile was sheepish, but he beckoned her forward. “As I recall, your explosions were frequent, fierce, but short-lived.”

  Relieved he had not offered her a stilted apology, Laine took her place at the table. “Your memory is accurate, though I assure you, I explode at very infrequent intervals these days.” She offered Dillon a tentative smile, determined to treat the matter lightly. “Good morning, Dillon.”

  “Morning, Duchess. Coffee?” Before she could refuse, he was filling her cup.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “It’s hard to believe, but I think today is more beautiful than yesterday. I don’t believe I’d ever grow used to living in paradise.”

  “You’ve barely seen any of it yet,” Cap commented. “You should go up to the mountains, or to the center. You know, the center of Kauai is one of the wettest spots in the world. The rain forest is something to see.”

  “The island seems to have a lot of variety.” Laine toyed with her coffee. “I can’t imagine any of it is more beautiful than right here.”

  “I’ll take you around a bit today,” Dillon announced. Laine glanced sharply at him.

  “I don’t want to interfere with your routine. I’ve already taken up a great deal of your time.” Laine had not yet regained her balance with Dillon. Her eyes were both wary and unsure.

  “I’ve a bit more to spare.” He rose abruptly. “I’ll have things cleared up and be back around eleven. See you later, Cap.” He strode out without waiting for her assent.

  Miri entered with a full plate and placed it in front of Laine. She scowled at the coffee. “Why do you pour coffee when you aren’t going to drink it?” With a regal sniff, she picked up the cup and swooped from the room. With a sigh, Laine attacked her breakfast and wondered how the day would pass. She was to find the morning passed quickly.

  As if granting a royal decree, Miri agreed to allow Laine to refresh the vases of flowers which were scattered throughout the house. Laine spent her morning hours in the garden. It was not a garden as Laine remembered from her early American years or from her later French ones. It was a spreading, sprawling, wild tangle of greens and tempestuous hues. The plants would not be organized or dictated to by plot or plan.

  Inside again, Laine took special care in the arranging of the vases. Her mind drifted to the daffodils which would be blooming outside her window at school. She found it odd that she felt no trace of homesickness, no longing for the soft French voices of the sisters or the high, eager ones of her students. She knew that she was dangerously close to thinking of Kauai as home. The thought of returning to France and the life she led there filled her with a cold, dull ache.

  In her father’s den, Laine placed the vase of frangipani on his desk and glanced at the photograph of Cap and Dillon. How strange, she thought, that I should need both of them so badly. With a sigh, she buried her face in the blossoms.

  “Do flowers make you unhappy?”

  She whirled, nearly upsetting the vase. For a moment, she and Dillon stared at each other without speaking. Laine felt the tension between them, though its cause and meaning were unclear to her. “Hello. Is it eleven already?”

  “It’s nearly noon. I’m late.” Dillon thrust his hands in his pockets and watched her. Behind her, the sun poured through the window to halo her hair. “Do you want some lunch?”

  “No, thank you,” she said with conviction. She saw his eyes smile briefly.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, I’ll just tell Miri I’m going.”

  “She knows.” Crossing the room, Dillon slid open the glass door and waited for Laine to precede him outside.

  Laine found Dillon in a silent mood as they drove from the house. She gave his thoughts their privacy and concentrated on the view. Ridges of green mountains loomed on either side. Dillon drove along a sheer precipice where the earth surrendered abruptly to the sky to fall into an azure sea.

  “They used to toss Kukui oil torches over the cliffs to entertain royalty,” Dillon said suddenly, after miles of silence. “Legend has it that the
menehune lived here. The pixie people,” he elaborated at her blank expression. “You see there?” After halting the car, he pointed to a black precipice lined with grooves. “That’s their staircase. They built fishponds by moonlight.”

  “Where are they now?” Laine smiled at him.

  Dillon reached across to open her door. “Oh, they’re still here. They’re hiding.”

  Laine joined him to walk to the edge of the cliff. Her heart flew to her throat as she stared from the dizzying height down to the frothing power of waves on rock. For an instant, she could feel herself tumbling helplessly through miles of space.