The Maui Effect (Man-Made Trilogy #1)

Gone Surfing

‘Iwa

On the weekend, Dane and Kama had persuaded ‘Iwa to go surfing with them, and she found herself riding shotgun across the island, heading to Honolua Bay. Being with both of them felt safer than being alone with Dane. After their day in the forest, and being literally tied to him, she’d been thinking about him way more than she ought to. And while she knew she shouldn’t keep hanging out with him—what was the point, really?—she couldn’t quite put a stop to it.

Kama was driving, and as they passed through old Lahaina town, ‘Iwa admired the sprawling canopy of the banyan tree—an old friend whose lofty branches she hadn’t visited in a long time. Kama and Dane were in a debate about which wave you would pick if you could only surf one wave the rest of your life. Men sounding like boys. Surfing kept people young.

“Cloudbreak,” Dane said, confidently.

“What about Honolua?”

“Too crowded.”

“We’re talking purely about the wave itself, forget crowds,” Kama said.

“Still, Cloudbreak.”

Fiji’s most famous wave.

“What about Sunset?” Kama asked.

“A close second. I’d take Sunset over Honolua, sorry, I know she’s your fave.”

“When you’re eighty will you be surfing Cloudbreak?” Kama asked.

‘Iwa turned around and looked at Dane, who was looking out the window at the windmills.

“Unless I’m dead,” he said, matter-of-factly, meeting her gaze and winking.

‘Iwa had seen pictures of Cloudbreak, hollow, with a shallow, jagged reef on the inside, and couldn’t imagine any eighty-year-old men out there.

Kama was practically bouncing off the seat as he drove. “What about Pe’ahi? You think we’ll be surfing Pe’ahi when we’re eighty?”

“Why not?” Dane reached up and squeezed ‘Iwa’s shoulder, letting his hand rest there and sending spirals of heat running down her arm. “But I want to know about ‘Iwa. What would be your wave?”

“I’m going with Kama. Honolua. Especially with no one else out.”

Crowds nowadays were part of the reason she rarely surfed. Not only were they a nuisance, they were dangerous. Half the people out there were clueless as dead fish and would either sit right in front of you or run you over if you weren’t watchful.

When they arrived, the waves were shoulder high and glassy, with a crowd to go along with it. ‘Iwa took one look and was tempted to stay on the beach, but the boys were so excited, it rubbed off. And she had to admit, she wanted to get in the water with Dane and see what all the fuss was about.

When Dane unloaded the boards from the racks, he sagged under the weight of her longboard. “This thing is a beast. What does it weigh, forty pounds?”

Full of dents and dings, the board had seen better days. “Go easy there, I love this board.”

“I’m down to trade if you want,” he offered.

“No, thank you,” she said.

There was something comforting about riding her old, yellowed surfboard. It made surfing easy when you knew a board so well, even as infrequently as she surfed. It had been her father’s board, and he passed it on to her as he did all of his old boards.

“Roger. I get it.”

Out in the lineup, Kama and Dane worked their way into position, while ‘Iwa hung on the inside. She saw Dane looking for her, then motion her out when he caught her eye. She stayed put. She had surfed here a hundred times and did not need his help. Then a wave came and she caught it. Not the best wave, but it felt good to clear the cobwebs off. On the way back out, a set rolled in and Kama caught the first wave, Dane the second. ‘Iwa stopped paddling and sat up to watch.

He was on his feet almost before he was on the wave, and he cruised down the face in no hurry, easing forward and back, making a few loose carves. His movements were so fluid, it appeared he and the board and the wave were all one, with a trail of whitewater snaking behind him. And then, as the wave got more pitchy, he picked up speed and—wham—smacked the lip with such force it was like he was pulling Gs. Again, wham. ‘Iwa was close enough to see every muscle in his back and torso tense under the force.

Big wave surfing and small wave surfing were two different worlds, and these waves were small, but she could tell why Dane was worshipped by so many. Good surfers were commonplace. Above them you had the more elite professionals who trained like maniacs, and on top of that, you had the rare few natural-born watermen—or women. Some well-known, others not so much. It became apparent to ‘Iwa, from just this one ride, that Dane was a member of that last ineffable category of wave rider.

The three of them spent the next three hours talking story and sharing waves. Sometimes one on a wave, sometimes three—party-wave style. Dane and Kama were both generous, and let ‘Iwa drop in on them, for which she was grateful. She could hold her own on the wave, but she was rusty at jockeying for position and being in the right spot. There was always a hierarchy, and it helped to have friends out. Especially friends who ripped.

When they let her off at her house late that afternoon, sunburned and salty, Dane invited her to join them later at Kama’s farm for dinner and a bonfire with a few friends.

“I should hang out with my dad, he has the day off, but thank you for a fun time,” she said, feeling torn.

Her dad only had one day off a week, and this was it.

“Bring your dad,” he said, the side of his mouth ticking up. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

If he was trying to undo her, it worked, and ‘Iwa made the mistake of looking away from his face. Her eyes landed on his chest, which his baby blue T-shirt clung to all too well.

“Maybe,” she said. “It’s up to him.”

After saying goodbye, and giving Koa a peanut butter biscuit, she poked her head in the living room. “Hey, Dad.”

“How was it?” he said, keeping his eye on a reporter standing in a snowstorm on the East Coast.

“The surf was fun, you would have loved it.”

A half-empty bag of boiled peanuts and a can of Budweiser sat on the side table next to him.

“I bet you got some looks, surfing with Dane Parsons,” he said.

“He’s almost as good as you.”

That got a laugh. “In my dreams.”

Her father was actually a really good surfer with a laid-back style and a talent for getting the best waves. He also was friends with everyone in the water, and was out there to talk story as much as surf. Surfing had always been his social hour. But ever since they’d lost Lily, Eddie’s life had consisted of three things: work, fish and watch TV. He rarely hung out with his friends anymore, even after fishing. And he never surfed. ‘Iwa understood, but also worried about his world getting smaller and smaller.

“If we go again, come with us,” she said, hoping it could be a way to get him back in the water.

A thick pause, and he turned to look at her. “So what’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t nothing me, ‘Iwa‘iwa. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“Just friends. He’s a nice guy and he wants to help, that’s it,” she said, as much for herself as for her father.

“You gonna see him again?”

“Actually, he and Kama invited us to a BBQ at the farm tonight. Will you come?”

“Thanks, but I’m sure you don’t want your old man cramping your style.”

She crossed her arms and settled into the sagging couch. “I’m not going unless you go with me.” And she meant it.

“Come on, ‘Iwa, go and have a good time. Lord knows you need it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you spend all your time working, and part of that’s my fault, I know, but you should be out there enjoying yourself more,” he said, his voice trailing off. “Ever since Mom died.”

Those words were a punch to her gut.

“I could say the same for you. You never do anything fun.”

He sat up and put his hand on her knee. “Okay, okay. I’ll go because I want you to go. What time do we leave?”

She suspected it had a little bit to do with Dane being there, but she’d take it.

“Six o’clock.”

It was a big win, and ‘Iwa felt more like the parent than the kid, but you adapted. Everything in the natural world did in one way or another.

Once at the farm, ‘Iwa flitted about, catching up with friends she hadn’t seen in a while, and every time she glanced around to find her father, he was talking with Dane or Kama or both. He had a beer in his hand, and a few times, she even caught him laughing. Kama’s grandparents were old-school Hawai’i, while Kama was a bit of a foodie. So they ate BBQ ribs and mac salad along with arugula pesto pizza with fire-roasted tomatoes.

Dane sat next to her, a mountain of food on his plate. “Your dad said he’d hire me at Uncle’s.”

‘Iwa almost spit out her food. “Doing what?”

“We were talking about the restaurant business, and how hard it is to find good help. I told him I often think about moving here, and he said if I did, I had a job waiting tables.”

It was dark, but his face was lit up by string lights in a way that accented his cheekbones.

“Trust me, you don’t want to work for my dad,” she said, then caught herself. “Not that you actually would.”

“Why not?”

She took a big drink of water, thirsty from being in the ocean. “Dane, be real, you’re not going to move here and get a job at Uncle’s, so it doesn’t even matter.”

He winked. “You never know, but now I’m curious.”

“Because Dad can be a bit of a drill sergeant. And just because he lives and breathes Uncle’s, he expects his employees to, too. Never mind half of them are under twenty-five and here to windsurf and make just enough cash for a tin roof over their heads and a few smoothies a day.”

Dane smiled. “The Hawaiian dream, alive and well.”

“It’s a fake dream for many, but whatever.”

He ignored her comment.

“Your dad reminds me of a Duke Kahanamoku type, Mr. Aloha. How did he and your mom meet?”

‘Iwa kept her answer brief. “My mom used to sing in Waikiki at a restaurant on the beach.”

When she didn’t go on, Dane asked, “Did he work there too?”

“No. Dad and some friends came in after surfing and had some drinks, and he waited until she was done and went up and talked to her. The next day, he took her surfing and the rest is history.”

He didn’t say a word to that. Just sat there for a few blinks. The parallels of their story—if you could even call it a story—and her parents’ were not lost on her.

‘Iwa tried to fill the silence. “My mom had a beautiful voice. She was a much better singer than me.”

“Sounds kind of familiar,” Dane said, his turned face half lit.

“Yes, it’s a common one here in Hawai’i. The romantic notion of a beach in Waikiki with Tiki torches and hula girls. But my mom was singing bluegrass.”

She was babbling now, and she knew it.

“Were they happy together?” Dane asked.

“Very.”

“I’m so sorry, ‘Iwa. Your mom must have been a real powerhouse of a woman.”

“She was.”

‘Iwa bit into her pizza because she wasn’t in the mood to talk about her mom right now. The idea of Dane moving to Hawai’i was far-fetched, and there was no point in even thinking about it.

“When do you leave?” she asked.

“Day after tomorrow. I wish—”

Kama’s tutu appeared at his side. “Sorry to interrupt. Can I borrow you to help move tables?” she asked Dane.

‘Iwa watched him move away, noticing that he walked on the balls of his feet slightly. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his jeans hung a little too low. He reached back and tugged one side up, then turned and caught her watching. ‘Iwa startled, then had to smile when he blew her a kiss.

As the night progressed, she could feel Dane’s eyes keeping track of her moves. It almost felt as though the rope that had held them together in the forest was still attached.

At some point, a blonde woman appeared next to Dane and slid her arm around his waist. She set her huge owl eyes on him, and smiled. ‘Iwa’s whole body tensed. Small as a pixie, with a haircut to match, this was the woman from the first night at Uncle’s. The one who had nuzzled his neck. ‘Iwa slid back and into a tree shadow and watched.

By the way they spoke to each other, she could tell they knew each other well. But just how well, it was hard to tell. Not that it was any of her business. Then, from across the lawn, the sound of ukulele strumming caught her attention and she headed that way, happy for a reason to tear herself away.

“‘Iwa!” Dane called.

She turned to see him waving her over.

“Yeah?”

“Come for a sec,” he said.

‘Iwa reluctantly went.

“I’d like you to meet Hope, one of my tow-in partners,” he said.

This miniature person was a tow-in partner?

Hope gave her a once-over and said, “You’re the singer.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Hope,” ‘Iwa said flatly, even though to be perfectly honest, it wasn’t.

“Hope and I go way back, we met on the north shore when we were both helping out with the Keiki contest,” Dane said. “She’s like my little sister.”

Of course. Hope Ballentine, well-known surfer in her own right, from Kaua‘i. ‘Iwa knew of her. She was compact and strong, bordering on masculine, but with pretty almond eyes and high cheekbones. She wrapped her arm around his waist. “One of my favorite people in the world. Dane Parsons is the real deal.”

Something about seeing Hope’s arm around Dane made ‘Iwa want to swat it away, and wipe that cute little smile off her face. Instead, she said, “Please excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere.”

As she walked away, she could feel Dane’s eyes on her. Let the two of then fawn over each other, her guitar was calling her name. Kama and his gramps sat by the fire pit strumming ukulele with a few uncles. Kanikapila , one of her favorite things—a spontaneous jam session that produced the most pure music known to man.

‘Iwa grabbed her guitar from the truck and joined the group. As soon as she started strumming, Dane and the rest of the world began to fade. The last thing she wanted was to feel jealousy, but there it was, like hot stone in her stomach. Hope and Dane were ocean, she was mountain.

She and the boys played Hawaiian music, the usual stuff, and ‘Iwa loved the blend of different-sized ukulele, and melding of on-key and off-key voices, some drunk, some sober, all happy. One guy had a voice as deep as Elvis, another sang in a beautiful falsetto. She kept to the background because she didn’t want to overshadow the lively harmony being made, but several songs later, the other voices fell away and she noticed that she was the only one singing “Moonlight Lady.” The entire crew of friends and family had circled around the musicians.

Dane stood with her father on one side, Hope on the other. Hope looked bored, Dane was holding a beer bottle, unbuttoned flannel shirt over his T-shirt. The way he was looking at her sent a line of heat down her spine. She offered up the smallest of smiles. He smiled back.

Later, when her fingers were raw and voice hoarse, ‘Iwa went to the house to use the bathroom. On the way back, in an unlit stretch of field, she passed a tree with a dark form underneath it.

“Hey,” said a voice.

She jumped.

Dane was suddenly standing close. “I’m glad you came,” he said.

‘Iwa caught a whiff of alcohol and mint.

“Me too. These old guys really know how to play, it was an honor to kanikapila with them,” she said.

Another step toward her. “They all worship you.”

“No. It’s just that I’m the only girl playing with them, so they give me more attention. They’re all big flirts at heart,” she said, feeling herself drawn into his orbit, as though he were a dark star.

“Beautiful night,” Dane said.

They were standing under cool moonlight, only a foot or two apart, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.

“Lovely and windless. My favorite kind,” she said, looking up at the sky.

She was unaware she was shaking until he reached out for her hand.

“I have a request,” Dane said, hand warming hers with his rough skin.

Being this close weakened her resolve. “Okay, shoot, but no guarantees.”

“Will you spend the day with me tomorrow? I leave on the red-eye. We can do anything you want, go anywhere you want. Do nothing, do everything, I don’t really care,” he said, all in one breath.

‘Iwa was torn, but really, what was one more day? “I do have tomorrow off.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It is.”

Without warning, he leaned in and kissed her. Just a light brush on her cheek, but his lips then remained an inch or two away, waiting. ‘Iwa reached out and braced herself on his chest, then turned so he could easily close the distance, knowing full well what she was doing. This time, his lips pressed against her own. They were soft and hot and impossible to pull away from.

‘Iwa was acutely aware of how he tasted like coconut ChapStick and lime, and how badly she wanted more of him. Dane traced a finger along the side of her face, then stepped back, slowly letting go of her hand.

“Tomorrow?” he said, gaze holding hers.

She took a step back, too, to get out of his force field. “Tomorrow.”

He raised a brow. “I have a good feeling about it...about us .”

The us was spoken so softly she couldn’t be sure he’d actually said it. ‘Iwa moved another foot or so back, smiled, then turned and made off into the night.