Kona Winds (9 page)

"It was just envy creeping out." Frank shrugged away his previous comment. "Well, your job rules out noon lunch dates. So how about next Friday night? There's always a party going on somewhere. And I don't have to work."

"All right," Julie agreed after only a momentary hesitation. "Friday night. What time?"

"Eight o'clock? Is that too early or too late?"

"It's fine."

"Wait until the fellows find out I have a date with my California girl," he grinned at her. "They're beginning to think I made you up out of my head—but you're real." He cupped her chin in his hand as if to reassure himself, then leaned over and kissed her.

It was a warm, exploring, first kiss, typical of many Julie had known, and she returned it in the same unaffected fashion. When Frank started to deepen the kiss, introducing passion, Julie placed a checking hand against the muscled hardness of his tanned shoulder.

His mouth lifted an inch from hers, his breath warm against the faint dampness of the sea water cooling her cheek. "You're beautiful, California," he murmured.

"Don't rush it, Frank." She liked the casualness of their present relationship. She didn't want to plunge into something more serious until she tested the water.

Reluctantly Frank resumed his former position on the towel. The expression on his boyish handsome features said he was prepared to wait and not rush it as she had requested. With relative ease, he began talking about himself—telling Julie of the places he'd been and the things he'd done. He'd spent some time in Boston, and they began exchanging personal observations about the city.

By the time the afternoon drew to a close, Julie had enjoyed every minute of Frank's company, and it was with a degree of reluctance that she began gathering her things to catch the bus home.

Just as she was ready to go, Frank said, "Watch my board, California. There's one of my buddies down the beach. I'm going to see if I can't borrow his wheels."

Before she could respond, he was trotting off across the sun-bleached sand. The gusting tradewinds carried the name he called away from Julie's hearing. Thirty yards away, a pudgy young man turned and waited for Frank to reach him. After a brief conversation, Frank came trotting back, his tanned feet kicking up small sprays of sand. A set of keys jingled from the key ring in his hand.

"I've got it. It's parked in the lot," he told her, and hoisted his surfboard under his arm. Grinning, he added, "We haoles stick together."

"Haoles?"

"Caucasians," he explained, and slipped a hand under her arm. "There are so many good-looking Hawaiians—you know the kind, dark and handsome—that when one of us gets a girl, we close ranks."

For some reason, Julie thought of Ruel Chandler, despite the fact that his hair was a burnt shade of brown and his eyes were blue, neither were the gleaming black of the true Hawaiian race. So she simply smiled at Frank's comment and said nothing.

The borrowed car was an aging dune buggy. Its yellow sides were splashed with red mud. The yellow stripes on its canopied top had been bleached to a cream color by the tropical sun. After stowing his surfboard in the back, Frank hopped into the driver's seat. He glanced at Julie to be sure she was safely in and started the motor. It rumbled quickly into a deafening roar. Julie suspected there was a hole in the muffler, or else no muffler at all.

"It's no Mercedes!" Frank shouted above the din, and shifted it into gear.

"Who cares." Julie retorted at an equal volume.

The dune buggy rattled and roared onto the highway. Since the vehicle possessed only a front windshield, the tradewinds whipped through the open sides, churning Julie's long hair like an eggbeater. She pushed the whirling strands away from her eyes and leaned back to enjoy the wild sense of freedom.

There was a moment of misgivings when the dune buggy roared up the circular drive. Julie could well imagine Emily Harmon's reaction when she heard the noise outside. After her veiled warning about young men, this vehicle wasn't going to make a good first impression for Frank. In spite of that, Julie smiled.

"Here you are, all in one piece," Frank declared above the loud idling of the dune buggy.

"Surprise, surprise," she laughed.

His expression turned serious. "Don't forget, Friday night at eight sharp."

"Eight o'clock," Julie agreed.

His hand cupped the back of her neck and drew her toward him. His mouth settled onto hers—warmed by the sun and tasting of the sea. It was a hard kiss, faintly possessive but altogether pleasant. When it ended, there was a slight lift to the corners of her mouth in pleasured satisfaction. But she didn't linger for a repeat.

Stepping out of the vehicle, she offered in goodbye, "I'll see you Friday."

As the dune buggy rumbled and clattered away, she ascended the short flight of steps to the front door. Turning, she waved to Frank. In answer, he pushed the horn. A-oogah! A-oogah! The strident sound made Julie wince, then laugh. That would really impress Emily Harmon!

Upon entering the house, Julie was almost immediately met by her employer. The older woman's mouth was drawn in a disapproving line, although she tried to conceal it. Meanwhile Julie was trying to hide the amusement glittering in her light brown eyes.

"Someone gave you a ride home." Emily's observation was more in the order of a question.

"Yes, a man named Frank Smith. I met him a couple of weeks ago," Julie explained so the other woman wouldn't think she had been hasty in accepting his attention.

"At the beach?"

"Yes, he was surfing," she admitted. "He works nights," she added to assure her he wasn't a layabout. "He has this Friday night free and has asked me out."

"Did you accept?" Emily was still hesitant.

"Yes, I liked him. He seems nice and intelligent." Although it sounded like it, Julie wasn't really defending her decision. "I think I'll go and shower away this salt water."

As she glanced toward the stairs, she saw Ruel on the lower landing, and something told her he had been listening to the entire conversation. Until that moment, Julie hadn't objected to Emily's interrogation. Looking into his strongly cast features, she felt a rush of antagonism. His intelligent blue eyes regarded her with an aloof kind of amusement that was somehow challenging and insolent. After the ride in the dune buggy, she knew she looked tousled and windblown. But did she looked kissed? Ruel's expression said so.

"I do hope you're right about him," Emily remarked, "for your own sake."

"I am." Julie's response was impatient and short.

She crossed the entryway to the stairs, trying desperately to ignore the man who had started down. Her carriage lacked its usual free and easy grace. She was too conscious of the tension fluttering over her nerve ends. Forced to acknowledge his presence, she met his gaze but it was indifferent, and that fact seemed to irritate her all the more.

Tight-lipped, she passed him and hurried up the stairs. It was no use telling herself that her reaction was absurd. It was there and she couldn't change it. She swept into her room and dropped her beach bag on the floor, mindless of the granules of sand it scattered.

She marched straight into the bathroom and stripped off the tent dress belted at the waist and the bikini she wore underneath. Without taking the time to adjust the water temperature, she stepped into the shower and was blasted with cold water. Gradually it warmed to a bearable degree and she stayed beneath the hammering jets of water until she felt her muscles relax.

Chapter Six

"DID YOU HAVE ANY DIFFICULTY with the third quantitative problem?" When her question went unanswered, Julie glanced up from her papers to see the young girl staring vacantly into space. "Debbie?"

Debbie seemed to come back to the present with difficulty. "What did you say? I'm sorry I wasn't listening."

Julie observed a suggestion of strain in the usually optimistic face of her teenage pupil. The last couple of days Debbie seemed to have difficulty concentrating on the schoolwork. Julie wondered if she hadn't been overdoing it and tiring the girl.

"It doesn't matter." She shrugged away her initial question and smiled. "It's Friday, so why don't we end our classes an hour early?"

"Okay." It was an enthusiastic response.
 

Nibbling at the edge of her lower lip, Julie hesitated, then probed, "Is something bothering you, Debbie?"

"No, nothing." The reply was too quick to be the truth. As if sensing that, Debbie plucked at the ribbon of her bed jacket. A misty film of tears darkened her eyes and there was the faintest quivering of her chin. "I'm just so tired of being in this bed." Her voice was low and tight in an effort to keep out any tremor.

In the past, Debbie had made an occasional joking remark about her confinement, but never once had she felt sorry for herself. Compassion surged through Julie at the girl's plight.

"It won't be for much longer," she offered inadequately.

"I know." Furtively, Debbie wiped at a tear that had trickled from the corner of her eye, as if ashamed of it. "I'm lucky in a lot of ways. I mean, I'm going to be all right. Thanks to you, I'm not going to fall behind in school. And my friends come to see me as often as they can. It's just that—"

Julie thought she understood. "It's just that it's Friday night, right?"

Debbie managed a tremulous smile and nodded, "Yes. All my friends have a date tonight. Ruel has a date tonight. Even you do, Julie."

Something hardened inside Julie. For some reason, she didn't want to know how Ruel Chandler intended to spend his evening. She tried not to let it show.

"That's the ultimate defection, isn't it?" she teased. "Me having a date, too."

"Gosh, no! Why shouldn't you go out with a guy? I didn't mean to make you feel guilty," Debbie insisted, her face reddening with chagrin.

"I know you didn't, Debbie." Julie smiled her understanding. "I wish I could be your fairy godmother and wave my magic wand and whisk you off to a ball tonight."

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" Debbie managed a laugh.

Setting the schoolwork aside, Julie continued in her effort to cheer the girl up. She had worked so closely with Debbie in the last month and a half that it was impossible not to be emotionally involved. Over the last two weeks or so, she had realized that she had begun to regard Debbie more as a younger sister than a student. She wasn't certain that was a good thing, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

When Emily looked in on her niece at half-past four the depressed mood had vanished and Debbie was again her optimistic, smiling self. Julie left the two of them to chat, as they usually did at the end of school time, and went to her room.

Promptly at eight, Julie decided what to wear. Since informality seemed to be the keynote in Hawaii, she had chosen a pair of white denims and a v-necked long-sleeved pullover in midnight blue velour.

Frank arrived precisely on time. Instead of the dune buggy, this time he was driving a van—a fact of which Emily Harmon took due note and on which expressed her opinion about such modes of transportation.

"I've heard that they usually have beds in the back of those vans," she informed Julie. "They're little more than motel rooms on wheels."

"That isn't altogether true." It was an effort to keep from smiling at Emily's motherly concern. "Besides, I think I can take care of myself. You'll feel better after you meet Frank," Julie assured her as he knocked at the front door.

Emily looked skeptical, but some of it melted when Julie introduced her to Frank. He was polite and courteous, but subtly charming. As Julie had found, it was difficult not to like him.

Once outside, he ran an admiring eye over her and voiced his approval of her outfit. "You look terrific, California!"

Her choice was appropriate since he was taking her to a beach party one of his friends was having. Practically everyone was there when they arrived. A bonfire was blazing on the otherwise deserted beach. Overhead the sky was studded with stars while a full moon glistened on the ocean waves. The tradewinds rustled through the needles of a stand of ironwood trees and sent the palm trees swaying. Music came from a transistor radio perched on a piece of driftwood.

After some initial ribbing of Frank about his "California" girl, they were drawn into the circle seated on the sand around the fire. One couple was popping popcorn over the open flames. A bag of marshmallows and sticks were making the circuit around the fire, with each person helping themselves and roasting their own. In addition to these refreshments, there was a ice chest filled with beer.

It was a fun-loving group with a lot of laughing and talking and story telling going on. Julie had no difficulty mixing in. She found herself liking Frank's friends as much as she liked him. At first she had been apprehensive that as the evening wore on couples would begin to drift into the privacy of the night's darkness, creating an awkward situation. The hour grew later, but no one wandered into the shady retreat of the ironwood trees behind the stretch of beach.

The mood grew more mellow. Like other couples, Julie was leaning against Frank, her shoulders resting against his chest while his arms circled her waist. Occasionally he would nuzzle her neck, or, when she'd turn to say something to him, he would steal a kiss from her. But the exchange never became heated.