Fire Prayer (4 page)

Chapter Five

Storm's cell phone rang and she paused to dig it out of her pocket.

Delia's voice crackled. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, where are you?”

“Kaunakakai Ball Park.”

“I'm at Kukui and Ilio.” The white van rounded the corner a couple of blocks down the street.

“I see you.”

When Storm climbed in with her packages, Delia said, “You got what you needed?”

Storm held out the bag of firecracker dried plum. “You like 'em hot?”

Delia grinned and took two.

“You know Tanner Williams?” Storm popped a spicy plum in her own mouth, bit down, then sucked air through her teeth. “Whew, he told me these were spicy.”

Delia was already rattling ice in a cooler behind her seat. She handed Storm a can of diet soda, then popped the top on another and swilled half of it before Storm had her own open. It smelled faintly of fish.

“You always full of surprises? Burn my mouth and ask me about a crazy guy at the same time?” Delia burped loudly.

“Crazy?” Storm took another cooling swallow. “I went to high school with him.”

Delia glanced over at her. “You look younger.”

“Two years. He was a senior when I was a sophomore.”

“Coulda fooled me. I'd have thought you were five or ten years younger.” Delia shook her head and steered a corner one handed. “Maybe it's because he spends a lot of time outdoors. He's really tan, kind of weathered-looking, you know? Must be sun damage,” she said and stuck her own face up to the rear-view mirror. “I gotta remember to wear sunscreen.”

“You know if he lives near his ex?” Storm asked.

“I get it. You had a crush on him.” Delia grinned. “You can tell me.”

“No, I haven't seen him for years. I just admired him. He was really smart.”

“Yeah, sure.” Delia spit a pit out the window. “I admire some guys, too. You got any more of those hot ones?”

“He got me through Biology.” Storm felt sixteen again, and the spark of defensiveness she felt was surprising. “Last I knew, he was married and had a good job on the mainland.” She held out the bag of firecrackers.

Delia popped a few into her mouth. “He's not married anymore, but he has a kid, and they say he adores his boy.”

Was Delia still being coy? Storm didn't want to play high school games anymore. Let Delia think she had a spark of unrequited love. Storm had bigger concerns. “Who's ‘they,' and who says he's crazy?”

She thought back to Tanner's phone call. He had been low-key and articulate, and he'd voiced his concerns about Luke's mother without sounding like a jealous lover. But Storm hadn't seen him for years, and she knew from personal and professional experience that some guys hid their inner furies well. If Tanner had periods of paranoia or was obsessed with his lost love, Storm wanted to know. And not for the reasons Delia suspected, either.

“People around here. Everybody talks, you know? They say he has a chemical imbalance.” Delia had her face back in the mirror, this time gouging a piece of fruit peel from her front teeth.

The young woman managed to keep the van between the curving lane lines, but it had to be by some non-visual sense. Storm put a hand on the dashboard. “Chemical imbalance? Depending who you talk to, that could be anything from a cold to schizophrenia.”

“I guess.” Delia took a half-minute to mull over the question. “I've seen him, you know. He talks to himself, or talks like someone's with him. When there isn't.” She rolled her eyes in Storm's direction. “I've also seen him when he said good morning just like anyone else in town.”

“Do people say he takes drugs?”

Delia reached for the bag of spicy seed. “You think he might have a crystal meth lab or something? He used to work for a drug company, you know.”

“No, I just wondered what the rumors are.” The last thing Storm wanted was to start any more.

“No one's said anything about Tanner using coke or ice, nothing like that. Not like some other people I've heard about.” Delia chewed, rolled the seed around in her mouth. “One of my friends says he's manic. He's supposed to take medication for it.”

Storm's stomach dropped. She hadn't heard the term “manic” for a while, in part because people who knew her well avoided it. Storm's mother had suffered from bipolar disease, and committed suicide when Storm was twelve. Storm's adolescence had been a rough road. It was part of the reason she'd ended up on O‘ahu as a teenager.

“Manic?” Storm repeated.

Delia heard the uneasiness in Storm's voice and shot her a glance. “Yeah, there's a term for it. Bi-something. You know, manic-depressive. Brilliant people often have it.”

Storm swallowed. Delia made a sharp right turn into the Lodge's parking lot and Storm was glad for the excuse to hold on to her seat. “Bipolar,” she murmured.

“That's it.” Delia pulled to a stop in front of the Lodge. “You all right?”

“Sure.” Storm opened the door and climbed out of the van. “Hey, thanks for the ride.”

Storm waved to Delia and headed directly for the winding walk to her room, glad she didn't have to go through the lobby. She wanted to be alone, think about the news she'd heard. It rang true, and it had resonated on a level she hadn't expected.

Chapter Six

Tanner stuck to residential streets and open lots on his way to Maunaloa Highway. It was only a half mile or so, and it would be easy to hitch a ride once he reached the highway, but he wasn't ready to see anyone yet. He needed to think, and walking helped, even if he sometimes had to go a long way. He'd been dealing with this problem a long time, and he figured he knew best how to take care of himself.

His thoughts and emotions sometimes tangled like long, snarled fishing lines. Clumps and masses of thoughts and beliefs, which he had to sort through. Something else went on, too—elation and adrenaline in an electrifying blend. It felt good, but was a sensation he'd come to realize didn't work if he was around other people.

He needed to be alone to pick among the electrical impulses ricocheting inside his skull. Time and energy was required to release and separate the strands, get rid of the scrambled knots of sensation: the pounding pulse, burgeoning ideas, rampant desire mixed with paranoia, jealousy—and anger. It was his burden in life; easier than some people's, harder than others'.

He looked down at his feet in his comfortable, but muddy sneakers. They were his outside shoes, the ones he used to hike the path back to his cabin. He'd have to clean them. No, maybe leather shoes would be better when he went to visit people. Too late now, but next trip. A new shirt, too. One for himself and one for Luke. And the haircut, he'd drop by Skelly's for that.

Connor might be there, though. That's okay. He'd deal with him. Plus, Connor was growing up.

Jenny would at least know that he tried. Tried to be a good father. He was still trying, and wanted to do it better—and more often. Christ.

Take a deep breath, swing his arms into the walk. Look around, the setting sun turning the ocean to a plate of molten steel. If he went down to the pier, he'd see the boats unloading their fresh catch. Muscular tuna, glittering
mahi mahi
. But not now. He had other things to do.

Tanner checked his pulse. He didn't have to put his fingers on his wrist or neck to do this; he could monitor it by thought. His brain working again. His breathing was deeper and easier now. He'd covered at least a mile and was calmer. He could stand still. It was one of the little tests he gave himself. Next test was to stand on one leg. If this worked, he would do one of the yoga moves he'd been learning from the new teacher in Kaunakakai, the Tree Pose, Vrksasana. If he could do that one, he was ready to interact with people without disturbing them. Tools to integrate mind and body, like the yoga instructor said. It wasn't magic, but it helped.

He stuck out his thumb, but the car, which looked like a rental, flew by. That was okay. Someone who recognized him would come by and pick him up.

It was a little over ten miles to Kamalo, where the Richards brothers had their EcoTours business. The shop was in a great location for the service they provided. On the ocean, near Kamahuehue fish pond. Skelly didn't live in the little apartment adjacent to the office any more, but he left a hidden key and let Tanner know he was welcome to use it. Tanner could shower and shave, and if Skelly was there, he'd not only help with a haircut, but give advice about Luke. Connor occasionally used the apartment when he wasn't shacking up with his latest girlfriend, but Tanner looked for signs he was there and tried to avoid any conflict.

Skelly had had his wild days, along with his brother, but he'd been married for three years now to Helene, a good woman, and he was father to eight-year-old Amy, Helene's daughter from her first marriage. Luke called Skelly Uncle, and Skelly not only filled the role, but furthered it by acting like the brother Tanner never had. It was Skelly who got Luke interested in baseball, which was a source of pride and self-respect for the undersized eleven-year-old.

Tanner made a mental note to talk to Storm about Skelly and Luke. If anything happened to him, he wanted some kind of legal document so that someone could take Luke in. Either Skelly or David Niwa. Niwa had also been a childhood friend, and his daughter was a friend of Luke's.

That was the way friends worked, wasn't it? Skelly knew he could count on Tanner, too. Every week or so, when the weather was calm, Tanner would take a group out for Hawai‘i EcoTours. He never took money for it. Instead, he convinced Skelly that he enjoyed taking out the mainland groups. Funny thing was, he did—he took real pleasure in it. Consequently, he'd turned into the brothers' most popular guide.

Tanner watched another tourist car go by. C'mon, it was getting time for the locals to head home for dinner.

His own stomach growled, but he ignored it and thought about tourists and smiled. Even his psychiatrist worried at first that herding a half-dozen affluent visitors from Michigan or New York through the wilds for several days would make him crazy, though Dr. Campbell used the words “distract” or “unnerve.” Tanner liked to say crazy, or lolo. It's what it was.

The first group he'd taken out was when Skelly was desperate—he had two groups scheduled, Connor had taken off suddenly for O‘ahu, and Skelly's other employee had the stomach flu. Tanner did it because Skelly had no one else to turn to, and neither of them had been sure if the trip would work out.

The excursions brought Tanner satisfaction not only from the experience of camping under stars thick as frost on a mountaintop, but also from interacting with the clients. The groups visited isolated beaches and tide pools, where if they saw anyone, it was a shore fisherman who waved a greeting to Tanner and continued with his own activities. Tanner gave lectures on unique examples of flora and fauna, plus he got the chance to look for rare seaweeds and other plant life.

He'd already found several edible seaweeds in varying water depths and was especially searching for
Bryopsis
plumosa
, a source of kahalalide F, a possible treatment for a handful of serious diseases, including AIDS. Visitors were invariably fascinated with his work and some had intelligent and useful suggestions. He'd even made a serendipitous acquaintance, a Ph.D. at UCLA named Alex, who had taken his two sons kayaking for the weekend to celebrate the younger one's birthday. Alex was very interested in Tanner's work.

Tanner wished Jenny would let him take Luke along on some of the expeditions, especially if children his age were along. But Jenny clung to her bitter righteousness like
‘opihi
to their wave-battered rocks.

He and Jenny had once shared so much. Tanner made a noise that sounded like someone had jumped on his chest. Herein lay one of his quandaries: if he took his pills, they insulated him from the cutting pangs of loneliness, the knowledge of how much he missed living with Luke and Jenny. But the pills had the same effect on his brain that dropping milk into water had; they blurred the clarity of his thoughts along with his emotions.

He and Jenny once shared synergy; they had been greater than the sum of their parts, especially when Luke came into the picture. Tanner knew his family was far bigger than he was alone. He felt as if it was an entity that protected, sustained, and even imparted life force. With a start, he realized why Jenny looked stringy and pale. She had to come up with the energy to keep going on her own, and it was sucking the juice out of her. But so were her habits and negativity, he reminded himself.

The sight of a big blue and white sedan cruising down the road pulled Tanner from his ruminations. He waved at the familiar vehicle. Enough of Jenny-thoughts, it's not healthy to keep playing the same loop over and over. What he needed to deal with now was the fact that her fear and anger were keeping Luke from him.

The police car pulled to a stop without bothering to pull to the side of the empty road. “Hey, Tanner,” Sergeant David Niwa said, “where you going?”

“Skelly's place. You headed that way?”

“Sure, I'm on the way home. Hop in.”

Tanner got in the front seat, next to Niwa, whom he'd known since they were in grammar school. Niwa lived about a mile from Skelly's and Helene's house, and the EcoTour office was on the way to both their homes.

“Howzit?” Niwa asked.

“Okay.” Tanner knew right away the answer betrayed his frustration.

Niwa drove one-handed and glanced over at him. “You been up at your old place?”

“Yeah.”

“You get to see Luke?”

“A little.”

“Jenny okay?”

“I guess.”

Niwa shook his head sympathetically. “Divorce with kids sucks.”

“No kiddin'.”

“Luke's got a big game tomorrow, doesn't he?”

Goddamn, if he'd known, he'd forgotten, and Jenny hadn't reminded him. But he could have asked Luke, too, instead of jumping right into an argument with her.

Niwa was watching him, and he was very good at watching people.

“What time's the game?” Tanner asked.

“Five-thirty,” Niwa said. “Haley's pitching.”

“That's great.” Haley had been competing with one of the other kids for the position. “She deserves it.”

“We'll see,” Niwa said. He twisted his mouth. “Next year, she has to play softball.”

“Doesn't seem fair.”

“Yeah, I'd have to agree. How's Luke doing?”

“Okay.” Tanner paused, then decided to voice a concern. “He told me Jenny stayed out all night a week or ten days ago.”

One of Niwa's eyebrows rose. “Was he frightened?”

“Worried about his mom. He worries about me, too. Doesn't seem fair.”

“She wasn't working a shift at the hospital, I gather.”

“No.” Tanner clasped and unclasped his hands. “Seems like she's been drinking a bit, too.”

Niwa turned into the drive for Hawai‘i EcoTours. “I'll keep my ears and eyes open for you. Luke's more mature than most eleven-year-olds. He'll be okay.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Niwa peered at the office through the darkening foliage. “Don't see any lights on in there. You want a ride someplace else?”

“I've got a key.”

“Okay then. See you tomorrow at the game?”

“Wouldn't miss it.”

Tanner made his way along the round stepping-stones that paralleled the tangled and drooping
hala
trees to the paved walk, which was lined with herb pots. One of Helene's hobbies, and one that everyone who knew her appreciated. She was an excellent cook and generous with whatever she had on hand. She declared the plants grew better at the office than on their too-shady home lot, which was a couple of miles inland. Tanner looked around to make sure he wasn't observed, then made his way to a rosemary bush and tipped the pot just enough to pull a key from underneath.

He clattered around opening the door, went back to replace the key under the pot, then stepped inside. The office was dark, shaded by the thick hala grove outside the window and the low angle of the setting sun. A bank of light switches was right next to the door, he knew, and he ran his hand along the wall and hummed a song that had been buzzing through his head.

But before he found the light switch, a hurtling weight flattened him against the wall. Stunned, his breath rushed from his lungs in a grunt and the strength left his legs. It was all he could do to gasp like a speared
ono
before he collapsed to the rough carpeting.