I Like You Just Fine When You're Not Around (24 page)

“You don't understand. I think we have her family convinced that you didn't have any part in his death. If you talk to her, it will look like you do. Or you'll say something that will implicate yourself.”

“I'll talk with you about the show if you do this for me.” Wrapping the belt of her raincoat around her waist, Tig said, “Now, I'm going to Hawaii, to wrestle an intruder and figure out what else I want.”

Tig realized she had a lot to do after announcing to everyone who still talked to her that she was heading for Hawaii. She needed to search for flights, pack, tell Wendy, notify Hope House, and call Pete. For a moment in her living room she considered not leaving at all, and letting people think she'd gone on to confront her problems, get her man back. She laughed at what a ridiculous notion that was. What an impossibly silly, overly Hollywood notion it was to think a grand gesture could restore trust and return a man to his rightful owner. How unrealistic it was to get on a plane and expect all would be well. And before she thought anymore insane thoughts, she grabbed the grocery bag with the baby doll from Alec in it and walked out her front door. It was a perfect time to visit her mother. Fern was in warm water therapy. Wendy, upon greeting Tig, left to drop off the breakfast tray, and Clementine was happily imitating a tiny, hairless, panda baby: nuzzling her fist, burrowing her face, and clucking quietly in Hallie's arms.

“Hey, Mom. I have something for you.”

Her mother turned from the big picture window and smiled. “I'm glad to see you. I think this kitten is going to be all right.”

“I think so, too, Mom.”

“Have any of our afternoon appointments come in?”

Tig withdrew the doll. “This one needs to be looked at.”

Hallie tilted her head. Tig flipped the hidden switch in the doll's back and cradled the bundle in her arms.

“What do you think is wrong with her?”

“She's a stray. She just needs some love.”

Hallie frowned. “Can't you see my hands are full?”

“I can see that, Mom. Would you like me to take that one?”

Exasperated, Hallie said, “Obviously.”

Tig carefully traded Clementine for the nameless baby doll, snuggling each bundle close.

Hallie knit her brows together, hefted the doll, and looked uncertain. She lifted the arm and said, “I don't know.” Tig didn't speak. Hallie shook her head side to side, frowning. “I don't know.”

Tig drew in a breath. “She's sick. That's all. You know how they get.”

Her mother snuggled the doll a little closer. She tucked her limbs into the blanket. “This one is going to take some time. This one looks as bad as the McGuires' cat, the one with the twisted bowel.”

Wendy walked into the room and Tig turned, placing a finger to her lips. She slowly handed Clementine to her sister. “Do you think you can help this kitten, Mom?”

Resolved, Hallie raised her eyebrows and gave a little nod. “I can sure give it a try.”

Tig released a relieved breath to the ceiling. “What are you going to call it?”

“You can't name them. They may not make it. I learned my lesson with the last one. Now, go on. This one needs some rest, and it is way too noisy in here.”

Tig ushered her sister out the door.

With admiration, Wendy said, “Nice.”

Tig ignored her. “I'm going to Hawaii and you have to move into my place to take care of Thatcher. And don't even think of saying no.”

Wendy quickly bobbed her head up and down. “I'll do it. Don't worry about anything. And when you get back, we'll all get together. You, Phil, me.”

“Just live in my house. Bring Phil in, too. I don't care. Let him see what it's all about so he really knows.”

“Don't be mad at us, Tig.”

“I don't know who to be mad at. I'm getting out of here. I've got to talk to Pete.”

Wendy reached out to touch her sister's arm. “I think that's a great idea. Don't worry about anything.”

“Thatcher needs a walk every day.”

“Right.”

“Tell Fern and Alec where I am, and be sure Erin Ann knows that I'll bring her something back from the Big Island.” She continued the list, backing up down the hall.

“Dr. Jenson needs to keep an eye on our bill. The payments are mysterious enough. I don't want there to be a mysterious lapse too while I'm gone.”

“Yep.”

“Oh, and Wendy, get Mom to name the doll.”

• • •

When she'd called Pete, she cried into the phone, “I miss you.”

When he exhaled, she could almost see him rub his hands across his scar. “I miss you, too,” he'd said. “When are you coming?”

Tig boarded her flight with a full fifteen minutes to spare. She'd packed her breeziest clothing. Light cotton dresses, flip-flops, beachwear. She even brought the swimsuit the Asian store clerk had called her Hot Mama suit. A red bikini with strings. “Purple not your color; you go with red. Get your boyfriend to sit up. Take notice.”

Breezy clothes for a breezy girl. The kind of girl who would take off at a moment's notice. A Wendy kind of girl, Tig thought.

A middle-aged man in a yellow golf shirt and khakis smiled politely as he settled a computer briefcase under the seat in front of him and pulled out a newspaper. A Wendy kind of girl might say hello. Instead, Tig pulled the inflatable travel pillow from her carry-on bag and started to blow it up. Would a Wendy kind of girl plan far enough ahead to have an inflatable travel pillow? No, she said to herself. I'm a more evolved breezy kind of girl. Breezy with benefits.

The act of inflating the pillow and herself exhausted her, so Tig slept. After a zombie-like plane change in Seattle, she leaned her head the other way and snored through cart service. When the plane touched down on the Big Island, the grandmotherly woman across the aisle said, “First time on the islands?”

Tig nodded.

“Well, you're sure rested for whatever it is you're going to be doing here. Mahalo.”

Tig wiped her mouth with a crumbled in-flight magazine insert and said uncertainly, “Mahalo.”

By the time Tig deplaned, she had her wits about her. Pete stood in the baggage claim area, scanning the crowd. He had two flower leis around his tanned neck, draped over his red bandana shirt. Tig was touched by both.

Pete placed both leis around her neck. “Aloha.”

Tig said, “Can I just say ‘hi' and ‘bye'?”

“It won't take long to feel like a native here. It's infectious; you'll see.” Pete was like a kid bursting to talk about the first day of school.

“I took some days off. My grad students can handle things. There's so much we can do now that you're here. I want to fly to Maui and mountain bike down Haleakala, and then head over to Kauai and hike on the Napali coast. I thought today we could snorkel and check out the Ironman route.”

Tig put her hands up. “I thought you said things move more slowly here. I'm here for three weeks to start; let me regroup for a second.”

He took her shoulders and bent down so they were face to face. “Sorry. I'm so glad you're here. Are you tired?”

Tig looked around, hoping not to see the older woman from the plane. “Exhausted.”

Pete chatted easily as Tig watched her travel brochure of Hawaii come to life. Palm trees waved as if it was nothing to be a towering tree over an azure ocean. It was as if watching sea turtles float like hubcaps in the water all day was a way of life for everyone. No big deal, mahalo.

“I rented this convertible for us so you could get the whole island experience,” Pete said, smiling and showing every one of his stunningly white teeth. Tig felt a splash of wet on her cheek and looked around. The sun was still shining but a sprinkle of rain hit her hands and shoulders. A rainbow appeared on the horizon.

“It rains for five minutes every day and then it's over. If you keep your eyes peeled, you might see a double rainbow.”

Tig smiled. “I feel like the island is trying too hard. It's already the prettiest girl at the prom. She doesn't have to show so much leg.”

Pete laughed and reached for her. Tig touched the rough calluses on the palms of his hands.

“I've missed you, Tig.”

“I've missed you, too,” she said, and for a wonderful, carefree, breezy moment, Tig let herself imagine what a life like this might be like. Pete pulled into a hotel turnabout.

Tig said, “I don't have to stay here. I mean, it isn't necessary.”

“My place doesn't represent the island adequately.”

When they entered the room, Tig felt his expectation in the rushed way he laid out her bags. “Could we just take it easy today? I just want to see the beach. Eat.”

He dropped the last bag by the sliding doors in front of a full view of Waikiki Beach and looked into her eyes. “Of course. This trip is for you. I'll admit, I was so angry at you, and then I felt terrible for pushing you all the time. Now, I'm just so glad you are here and I want you to see everything all at once.”

Her mind wandered to her mother, the doll, and then to Alec. She recalled the woman's voice when she'd called Pete. It was a sweet voice:
Hello?
She forced her attention to the man in front of her. Pete. She felt the remembered roughness in his beard as he kissed her; took in the faint smell of chlorine that never left him from the years of training in a swimming pool. He had a way of cupping the back of her head, sliding his hand to her neck that raised goose flesh where his fingers made contact. He placed the palm of his hand against her heart and looked into her eyes. They made love on the bed with the sea winds blowing across their bodies, cooling and lifting away the layers that that had built up over their time apart.

When they were finished, Tig lay on her back and Pete ran his fingers over the notch of her shoulders.

“You're thinner than when I left.”

“No one was around to feed me.”

“I meant to go more slowly, Tig. But then I saw you.”

Miraculously she slept again, and when she woke it was dark. Pete sat on the balcony drinking a beer and speaking quietly into the phone. Tig wrapped herself in the bandana shirt and said, “You got food.”

He put his phone away. “Takeout from the restaurant beneath us. I was just talking to one of my grad students. I want you to see the lab tomorrow. There's a lot to tell you about.”

Tig bit into a shrimp. “It's too good to be true, here. It's like the theme song for a show called
Happily Ever After
is playing all the time.”

He guided her onto his lap. “I've been thinking a lot.”

“A lot has happened. Wendy came home, had the baby, and left again.”

“I heard.”

“You heard? How?”

“Macie.”

Tig exhaled. “Shit.” The Christmas-like lights of a large ship floated across the blackness. Then she gave a tiny shrug. “It's hard to be mad at anything in a place like this. It's like being angry in a dream where a witch materializes and quickly turns into a flowering plant; nothing feels real.”

“She means well, and I wanted to know.” He took a sip of his beer and said, “There are things you should know, too.”

Tig placed her hand over his mouth. “No.”

Speaking around her fingers he said, “It's not bad news, Tig. You look like you're bracing for a hit.”

“Not tonight, Pete. Just let me be here with you, eating shrimp and feeling this breeze. Anymore sensory changes and I might short-circuit.”

Pete concentrated on her face and smoothed her forehead with his thumb. Placing his arms around her, he hugged her and stood. Without speaking, he led her back into the bedroom.

• • •

The next day, Pete gestured with a wide sweeping arch, indicating the large windowless storeroom. “This is my lab.” Laughing a little, he said, “I know it's not much. Space doesn't come cheap in Hawaii and the university has very little to begin with.”

Tig glanced at the folding tables, laptops, and portable machinery that cluttered the room. “There sure are a lot of outlets.”

“Bravo, you have discovered what makes this lab a highly competed-for space.” He walked to a cart filled with equipment and said, “We're mostly a mobile lab.”

“We go where the athletes go,” said an extremely tanned woman with the defined shoulders and the biceps of a professional jar opener. Tig considered her voice, tried to match it to the one in her memory.
Hello?

Pete turned to Tig. “This is Geri. She's a native on loan from the university here.”

“Yep. I volunteered to work with Dr. Pierpont. I've followed his research and think what he's doing with nonsteroidal anti-inflammatories is thrilling. I used to take, like, five ibuprofen before every marathon. Now I know better. I'd like to keep my kidneys.” She smiled and displayed one of the prettiest smiles Tig had ever seen outside of a primate lab or
Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue
.

Tig smiled and shook her hand, feeling very unfit, very untanned, and very out of the loop.

“I'm Bobby.” A tall, wiry man with dreadlocks loped over to where they stood and put out his hand. Tig took it and wondered if he needed a catcher's mitt when he played lab softball, or if his bare hand qualified.

Pete patted Bobby on his shoulder. “This here is our own genuine defector. His hair turned into that mess the first week here and he says he's not going back to Minnesota.”

“I'm never wearing a coat again.” His skin was flawless, caramel, and luscious. The striations in his long, sinewy muscles could almost be numbered. He was an anatomy lesson awaiting students.

“You do look like you get outside a little,” Tig said.

Bobby pulled his hair back and secured it with a longer, matted, beaded piece of hair. “I took up surfing. I try to go before and after work every day. I'm teaching Pete. He's a natural.”