Mr. Family

He and Erika carried her belongings up to the lanai. Seeing Kal and Hiialo kick off their flip-flops beside the door, Erika bent down to remove her sandals. When she straightened, she saw a gentle smiling expression in Kal’s eyes. He held open the screen door. “E komo mai. Welcome.”

Stepping into the shadows, onto a warped hardwood floor covered with irregular remnants of gold-and-green carpet, Erika surveyed the small front room. The walls were cheap paneling. On the right side was the kitchen, on the left a couch, an old end table and a throw rug. Over the couch hung a framed print of a schooner, a Hawaiian chief in the bow. A hanging lamp with a plastic tiffany shade advertising Coca-Cola dangled above the coffee table, and two pieces of batiked cloth blocked a doorway opposite the porch.

Erika peered down a hall and spotted a threshold obscured by bamboo beads. At the hallway’s end was a real door, a solid door.

She glanced at the kitchen, the sink, the gas stove. Crayon drawings on the refrigerator. The baseboards looked streaky—perhaps hurriedly swept after a long dust buildup. For some reason, the sight touched her.

This place might become her home. Kal might become her husband—though not her lover—and Hiialo her child. It seemed hard to imagine, but she said sincerely, “I like this.”

Kal swallowed, relieved. Surprised. “Thanks.” He set down her duffel, garment bag and a blue suitcase she’d said contained art supplies and ankle weights. “Let me give you a tour.”

“I want to show you my room,” said Hiialo.

“Okay.”

Hiialo went to the batiked curtains and pushed them apart. Ducking between them, Erika found herself in a tiny chamber with a single koa captain’s bed. The wood was familiar; there had been a lot of koa on the Skye. Hiialo’s closet was built into one wall, and a window looked out on a yellow-blossomed tree beside the driveway.

The watercolor of Pincushion hung over the nightstand, in a plastic frame, no mat. The cheap frame affected Erika much as the hastily dusted baseboards had. “This is a wonderful room, Hiialo.”

Hiialo pointed to a turquoise-and-green ginger pattern quilt on her bed. “This is the quilt Tutu made for me. She gave it to me when I was born.” Her gaze drifted up to Kal, behind Erika in the doorway.

Turning, Erika caught him with a finger to his lips. He and Hiialo must have a secret.

Tutu. “Is that your grandmother?” Maka’s mother?

Hiialo nodded. “My tutu on Molokai. Not Grandma.” She sat on her bed and turned on a lamp with a friendlylooking dragon at its base. “Would you like to see my Barbie dolls? I have Cinderella, too.”

Kal tried to remember the last time Hiialo had shown an interest in dolls. The change seemed to confirm everything he’d suspected: a woman in the house could make all the difference.

But he said, “Let’s let Erika settle in first, Hiialo.” He stepped around the bed and opened the door to the remodeled porch. “This is your room.”

Erika followed him. The narrow room ran two-thirds the length of the house. Windows stretched along two sides, bamboo blinds rolled near the tops of the frames. The sashes were raised, bringing in heady floral scents, and by the window nearest the driveway, new track lights shone down on an art table.

When Erika saw, her eyes felt hot. He didn’t even know her, and he had done all this. He’d made a place for her to work.

What if I can’t sell another painting?

She had to. She’d lower her prices. She’d paint women by the sea again.

Then she remembered something else—the things she hadn’t told him. About her accident and her paralysis. It wasn’t his business, but the untold facts made her feel sneaky.

Kal flicked the light switch. “It’s hard to get natural light in this house. Too many trees. Tell me if you need more light for your work. The table’s an old one my folks had in their Poipu gallery.”

It was hard to get out the words. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Erika crossed the koa floor to the captain’s bed. It was wider than Hiialo’s—full-size—and covered with a slightly faded yellow-and-red handmade quilt. The pattern was tropical, Hawaiian, with vines and blossoms radiating out from the center. Where had it come from?

“Do you like it?” burst out Hiialo. “My great-grandmother made it for my daddy for when he was born. And my daddy built your bed.”

She had to stop this feeling—like she was going to cry. He’d made everything so homey. He must want her to stay. Of course he did. He’d invested a lot in her coming.

Kal’s bare feet moved over the polished hardwood until he stood beside her. He, too, examined the quilt, which his mother had brought over. It had been packed away in a box during the remodeling of his parents’ home twenty years before, and he’d forgotten it existed. His mother hadn’t. You know, I looked and looked for this when you and Maka were married. You know where I found it? In the shed behind the kennels. Your dad and I were clearing it out the other day to make the new whelping room…

Erika studied the quilt, wanting to soak up its history—and Kal’s. “Which of your grandmothers?”

“My dad’s mom. She grew up here. Hiialo is the sixth generation of my dad’s family to be born and raised in Hawaii.”

“I remember.”

There were four doors in the room, one that opened to the outside, toward the mountains. Kal opened the nearest, the original door to the porch, and went into his room.

Hiialo scooted in front of Erika into her father’s bedroom, then huddled close to Kal. Erika followed more slowly.

Inside, her eyes were drawn toward the light from the open window. The quilt on his bed was purple and lavender and well-worn. It was folded over double, and it took a moment for Erika to realize why.

He slept in a single bed.

Erika looked away from the piece of furniture, as though she’d caught him there naked. He really didn’t want a lover.

On one wall was a stereo and a rack of tapes and CDs that stretched to the ceiling. Bookshelves and two guitars hung nearby. One instrument was chrome, etched with Hawaiian designs, the other an old archtop. On the floor beneath them were an amplifier and two cases Erika suspected held electric guitars.

She was startled. Kal had never mentioned music to her. “You play?”

He nodded, without humble disclaimers.

“You never said anything.”

Kal touched the Gibson, drawing sound from the strings. “No.”

Erika decided he wasn’t as simple an equation as she’d first thought.

The bathroom was across the hall. Thin strips of black mold grew on the tub caulking—difficult to prevent in watery climates. For a single father who worked six days a week and cared for a rental property as well, he kept a clean house. You do good, Kal, she thought.

“There’s a gecko, Daddy,” said Hiialo.

An orange lizard scaled the wall above the towel rack.

“Oh, cool!” Erika peered closer.

The lizard scurried away.

“They eat cockroaches,” Hiialo told her.

Erika glanced at Kal.

He shrugged. “It’s Hawaii. We get some.” He stepped out into the hall, Hiialo one pace behind him. “You probably want to unpack, relax.”

“Actually I brought some gifts for you.”

Hiialo’s eyes grew large.

In her own room, Erika crouched beside the bed, opened her tote and removed a gift bag. “This is for you, Hiialo.”

As Kal entered the room, bearing Erika’s other luggage and a large flat box containing watercolor paper, Hiialo peeked in the bag. “Oh, look! Oh, Daddy, he’s cute! He looks like an Akita puppy.”

Erika’s gift was a small stuffed roly-poly dog. It was cinnamon-colored with a black muzzle and fluffy curled-up tail.

Smiling, Kal squatted beside Hiialo to look at the stuffed animal. “Sure does. Hiialo—”

Erika watched him mouth, What do you say?

“Thank you, Erika.” Her grin was toothy, dimply.

Erika said, “There’s something else in the bag.”

Hiialo reached down to the bottom and pulled out a tin of felt-tip pens. Her face fell. She met Erika’s eyes. “I already have these.”

A blush burned Kal’s face. “But some of yours are drying out.”

Erika wished she’d chosen something Hiialo didn’t have.

Hiialo put the pens back in the gift bag and hugged her stuffed puppy. “Thank you, anyhow, Erika.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. I hope you enjoy them.”

“I’m going to go make a little bed for my dog.” A moment later she disappeared into her room.

Kal shrugged, an apology. “She’s only four.”

“She’s darling,” Erika replied politely. She lifted out another gift sack, this one heavier and decorated with suns and moons, and handed it to Kal. When he took it, she saw the veins in his sun-browned forearms and the calluses on his hands. He had nice hands.

Kal opened the. bag and pulled out a thick navy blue T-shirt with a primitive design in black, white and rust on the front. The figure of a whale was circled by a field of white dots.

“It’s a design of the Chumash Indians of Santa Barbara,” said Erika.

“Thanks. I’ll wear it now.”

He set the bag, not yet empty, on the bed and started to unbutton his aloha shirt with the eagerness of a man who hated to dress up.

As he took it off, Erika had an impression of a lean muscular chest and roped abdominal muscles. Trying to ignore him, she memorized the colors in the flowers outside the window. When she sensed that he’d put on the new shirt, she glanced back at him.

He was holding out the hem, checking the fit, which was good. “Thanks,” he said again.

“There’s more.”

Kal picked up the sack and withdrew a quart of beer from a micro-brewery in Santa Barbara. She saw him hesitate before he said, “Thank you. We’ll have to share it tonight.”

“Thank you, Kal. This bed…” It was bigger than his.

Wide enough for two.

“The drawers came off an old dresser. The rest was easy.” He edged toward the window, touching the frame.

His legs, Erika noticed, were long. Even covered by the loose twill of his drawstring-waist pants, they suggested muscle. Though his skin was golden brown from the sun, it was also smooth, the kind of skin that made her want to touch the area around his lips and his mouth, touch that tiny scar. And the bare abdomen, the chest, the shoulders she had glimpsed when he changed his shirt. He was powerfully built. Six years younger than me.

The thought was not unappealing. He was certainly a grown man.

But her observation was distant. Uninvolved. She assessed him as she thought another woman might.

When he turned from the window, Kal found her staring. Shot by a feeling he hadn’t expected—something sexual—he hurried to end the moment. “You probably want to rest. Are you hungry?”

“The food on the plane was good. I’d just as soon spend some time with Hiialo.”

“Look, I don’t expect you to baby-sit. That wasn’t the idea.” Not exactly.

Good. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if she had to get a job. “Well, she’s why I came,” she said, suddenly needing to make that clear. He could have changed his shirt in the other room.

“Mmm,” Kal agreed. Hiialo’s door was opened just a crack, but he could hear her playing in her room, talking make-believe with her stuffed friends. He leaned against the wall he had framed. “So…you probably want to make sure you like us before we go any further with this.”

Erika felt the quilt beneath her—and the bed. Things had gone pretty far. “I don’t see anything likely to make me run away.”

You haven’t seen my daughter throw a tantrum.

But Erika Blade struck him as a woman who wouldn’t flee difficulty.

“We can give ourselves as much time as we need,” he said. “I was thinking of about six weeks.”

Panic stricken, Erika thought she might break into hysterical laughter. Six weeks to decide if she wanted to spend the rest of her life in a celibate marriage to a man with more sex appeal than Brad Pitt?

But even making contributions to household expenses, she should be able to make her money last six weeks. And surely she could produce some marketable art in that length of time. “Six weeks sounds reasonable.”

Kal nodded. The air in the room felt oppressive, stuffy, and he knew it was because of the topic, the future he’d planned, the prison of a marriage without touch, a marriage to a stranger.

He said, “I’ll leave you alone. Maybe we can go swimming later.”

She nodded and so did he. Kal hurried out of the room, then the house. Moments later as he stood on the lanai quaffing the air, he realized he hadn’t been fleeing the awkwardness. He’d been getting away from Erika Blade’s tawny arms and legs, her narrow bare feet, her brown hair and eyes. He was fleeing the woman herself.

Because he found her very beautiful, which was the last thing he’d expected.

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY AGREED ON A SWIM before dinner.

At five Kal threw on some faded red surfing trunks and went into Hiialo’s room to tell her to put on her swimsuit. She was playing with her new stuffed puppy, whom she’d named Fluff. Kal wondered if Erika liked dogs.

“Hiialo, want to go swimming?”

“Yes! Hooray!” She tucked Fluff in a shoe box she’d lined with doll blankets, and then hurried to her closet, which looked about like his, a pit, and began throwing her clothes around, looking for a swimsuit.

Kal went out into the front room.

Erika was on the lanai, dressed in a coral swimsuit, a sarong around her waist. He could see the muscles in her suntanned back. Strong. Unaware of him, she crouched to touch a Mexican creeper growing beside the veranda. She studied it with the intense concentration he’d noticed before, as though she had to take a test on it later. He saw her eyes drop slightly, her lids brush her cheeks, and she swallowed.

Emotional…Whatever she felt, Kal understood. She’d just moved in with a stranger she’d met through a want ad.

He walked out onto the lanai and Erika straightened. He said, “You’ve got a towel. I was going to ask if you needed one.”

“No, I—I brought everything.”

“Literally?”

Erika met his eyes, and her heart moved from her chest to her throat. “Yes.” She’d even sold the Karmann Ghia. “I don’t own much. I’ve always lived on boats.”

The way she said it made him wonder. She must have traveled all the time as a kid. No neighborhood. No best friend, unless it was her brother. Kal had never known anyone who could put all her worldly goods in four pieces of luggage and a cardboard box. “This house is kind of like a boat,” he said, “that stays in one place.”

His half smile, combined with the sober look in his eyes, made Erika feel he knew things she’d never told him.

Hiialo bounded out of the house, clutching her Pocahontas beach towel. “Let’s go. Come on, Eduardo.” She shouted, “Can we go in the outrigger, Daddy?”

Erika made the kind of involuntary wince someone does when the music comes on too loud. Because of Hiialo? Kal wondered. That would be bad. If his daughter was an amplifier, she would go up to eleven. Higher than high, louder than loud. “Not today.”

Barefoot, Erika stepped down to the soft green lawn. The thatch was short and dense, different grass than she knew on the mainland. The warm earth invited her to sink in roots. She wanted to. She could be happy surrounded by so much color.

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