The Maui Effect (Man-Made Trilogy #1)

Endangered Creatures

‘Iwa

Their first stop was a surf check disguised as a walk, but ‘Iwa didn’t mind. They stood side by side, looking out on the rock-strewn coastline and the sleepy ocean beyond. It was hard to tell that come tomorrow, enormous waves would be breaking right in front of where they stood. A dead and twisted cypress tree jutted out from between two boulders.

“This is the tree in Ghost Tree. But the locals call the break Pescadero Point. It’s not for the faint of heart,” Dane said.

“Where do you actually surf?”

“See that rock at the point? That’s where the peak usually is, but when it’s bigger, it breaks farther out.”

‘Iwa squinted to see better against the glare. “That rock?”

“Yep.”

If you caught a wave where he was pointing, there was nowhere to go but into a field of grayish white pinnacles, smooth like marble. It looked far more precarious than even Mavericks or Todos Santos.

“It looks unmakeable,” she said.

He nodded. “It can be critical, but the wave is one of the best in Cali when it hits right. You can skirt the rocks if you’re careful and if you know the break.”

“Same as you did in Mexico?” she couldn’t help but say.

He gave her a look. “Every now and then you have to pay to play. For all the times I’ve been out there, I seem to manage pretty well.”

‘Iwa saw movement in the water. Something small and brown, with fur. Isla seemed to notice it, too, because she had stopped and was eyeing the water and sniffing.

“What is that?” ‘Iwa asked, nodding to the creature.

“Sea otters. This whole area is a marine sanctuary. We pass through six protected areas to get here from where we launch in Monterrey Harbor. Word on the street is that NOAA is threatening to shut us down.”

A whole family of little heads kept popping up in the kelp, and two otters looked to be playing chase with each other. Nearby, another came up and floated on its back.

“Good,” she said.

“Um. Yeah,” he said, hands fumbling in his pockets. “I guess it depends who you ask.”

“Why wait for NOAA to tell you to stop? I bet if you asked the sea otters, they’d probably have an opinion.”

“It’s only a handful of times a year that we do it.”

“Aren’t sea otters endangered?”

A long pause. “Yeah. They are.”

“Then maybe you should reconsider. Or just paddle surf. You guys keep talking about wanting to get back to the roots of surfing. Why not now? Set an example.”

Dane kicked a pebble off the trail in front of them. “When it’s bigger than twelve feet or so, you need a ski to pull you in. The water is moving too fast.”

The scenario sounded familiar: Endangered critters. Man moving in on their territory for personal gain or glory. At least here in California, someone was actually doing something about it.

‘Iwa shrugged. “It’s your conscience.”

“My sponsors are here, and everyone’s counting on me. I can’t just not surf tomorrow.”

“You’d be making a statement. And anyway, aren’t your sponsors supposed to be environmentally forward-thinking?”

“They are.”

“Then they should understand.”

He watched the otters for a moment, then said, “Let me think about it.”

It was a lot to ask, and she felt bad for putting him on the spot. But not that bad when she thought about the otters.

She put an arm around him and drew closer for warmth. “They’re bigger than I thought they’d be, and even more adorable in real life, aren’t they?”

“Cutest little creatures on the planet—aside from this one,” he said, nodding down at the scruffy little creature sitting by their feet.

Later, Dane surprised her with a room at a cozy inn overlooking a stand of cypress trees that filled the air with a woody, evergreen smell. They snuck Isla in by putting her in a surfboard bag, though no one was even around to notice, and she tore around the room when they released her. Someone had lit candles for their arrival, and the room carried a rustic charm. Bottles full of daisies and wildflowers lined the shelves on the walls, giving it a whimsical and romantic vibe that made ‘Iwa want to step out of her clothing and into Dane’s arms.

Which, it turned out, was exactly what she did. Dane tore off his own shirt and laid her onto the bed, pinning her arms above her head. Skin on skin. Heat coiled around her body, sending pulses to every point he touched. His mouth hovered just over her throat as he moved down the length of her neck to the midpoint between her breasts. A light kiss. She whimpered. ‘Iwa was high on his musky scent, drunk on the feel of his hand now trailing up her inner thigh, creating a sizzle wherever it passed.

Dane kept her panties on, but moved his hand across her rhythmically, with growing pressure, all the while kissing her hotly. Her breaths became more uneven, and she felt her hips rising to meet him.

He pulled his mouth away, up to her ear and whispered, “I think about doing this with you all the fucking time. Way more than I should.”

Oh. My. God.

“Me too.”

Her answer seemed to stoke his want, because he pressed himself hard against her, and slid her black lace to the side. She arched, gasping. The whole world had shrunk to one small spot in her center, burning brightly. ‘Iwa wrapped her legs around him and he eased himself in, just barely, then pulled back. Her thighs gripped tighter, trying to get closer and take in more of him.

“Are you in some kind of hurry?” he said, a sensual smile spreading over his face.

She laughed. “Yes.”

“We have all night, ‘Iwa. And I want to savor you. Savor this .”

He slid in again, a little further this time. ‘Iwa thought she might lose her mind. She bit down lightly on his neck to keep herself from crying out. But he was right. There was no rush. They had all night.

Though in the end, it didn’t take that long.

Not even close.

After the lovemaking, they took a long Jacuzzi bath, ordered veggie burgers made from scratch with a side of thick-cut French fries from local potatoes, and shared a bottle of red wine, which ‘Iwa ended up drinking most of because Dane wanted to be on tomorrow. He caught her watching him and that sensual smile appeared on his face again. His shadowed jaw, sun-streaked hair and double-wide shoulders made her stomach flip.

Her mother once told her, “There is no such thing as a perfect man, but there is a perfect man for you , designed by God and built to specs. He will be even better than you could have imagined, and also different than you might expect, so just be open. And here’s the best part, it will feel so right, there will be no question at all.”

Those words had been showing up a lot lately, running across her mind in bold teleprompter letters. The thought that Dane could be that man felt like a real possibility, but it also made her want to turn and run. On paper, he was so many things she hadn’t wanted in a man. But, her heart said otherwise.

“I have a confession to make,” Dane said as they sat on the floor cross-legged in their underwear.

A lump formed in her throat. “Okay.”

“After you showed me that poem, I started reading more poetry. Not in a thousand years would I ever think poems could get under my skin so much, but there’s something about those words and how so few of them can do the job better than a whole bookful. Truth be told, I’m kind of hooked,” he said.

‘Iwa threw her napkin at him. “And here I thought you were going to tell me some dark secret that I didn’t want to know.”

“What if I had? Would you stick around?”

“Depends on what the secret was, obviously. But loving poetry? Probably not going to chase me away. Whose poems are you enjoying?” she said.

“Neruda, Rilke. I need to at least be able to grasp the meaning. Too obscure and they lose me. I’m not that sophisticated.”

But ‘Iwa had seen his bookshelves. Philosophy, nature, physics. All the books that Yeti had given him and more. The kinds of books that made you think, deeply.

A knock came on the door. ‘Iwa threw on a bathrobe and peered through the peephole. Dane climbed into the bed with Isla and held her under the covers, trying to dampen her growl.

“It’s a man with an ice bucket. Did you order champagne?” she said.

“Open it.”

The man bowed when the door cracked. “Mrs. Parsons? The hotel would like to extend our warmest congratulations on your nuptials.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, I’m not Mrs. Parsons.”

The man tried to look inside, but ‘Iwa kept the door open just a slit. “Is she in here, then?” he asked.

Isla barked. Dane coughed.

“Mr. Parsons is, but there is no Mrs. Parsons,” she said, then added, “Not that I know of anyway.”

The man seemed perplexed. “This is the honeymoon suite, and—”

Suddenly, Dane was beside her. “Thank you, Sergio. My lovely wife here keeps forgetting she married me. I try not to take it personally, but sometimes it stings.”

He took the bucket of ice, slipped Sergio some cash and shut the door before ‘Iwa even had a chance to blink. When she turned around, she realized Dane was stark naked.

She laughed. “What just happened?”

“I should have warned you. This was the only room left and they reserve it for honeymooners, but I really wanted to stay here with you. So I told a little white lie.”

The flowers and candles now made sense, and the thought of Dane going through all this trouble for her made her chest thrum.

Dane held up the bottle. “We’ll save it for tomorrow, after we surf.”

“So you’re going to go out tomorrow? It’s decided?” she said.

Dane cupped her chin and looked her in the eye. “I have to, ‘Iwa. It’s too late to back out. But I promise, this will be the last time we do this here. No more jet skiing through marine sanctuaries.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

In the morning, rain floated down like fish scales, light and iridescent. Dane and crew had left early, while ‘Iwa and Isla took their time waking up and eating a honeymooners breakfast in bed.

“You can be Mrs. Parsons this morning,” ‘Iwa said to the dog, as she handed her a chunk of cheesy egg.

Isla inhaled every morsel of food with fervor, sauce on her muzzle to prove it. ‘Iwa could hardly blame her. After breakfast, they walked to the coffee shop to meet Paul Gladwell, one of the California spotted owl’s greatest defenders. Yeti knew him and at Dane’s request, had set up the meeting for ‘Iwa. This trip, she was actually on the clock.

As with so many birds in Hawai’i, the California spotted owl was a casualty of habitat loss, mostly at the hands of man. And though their populations were in serious decline, they still weren’t recognized as endangered. Paul headed up a group that was getting close to changing that, and Yeti believed Paul would be a good resource for ‘Iwa and Maui Forest Recovery Project in their fight for Waikula. The middle of an endangered forest was no place for a resort, and the sooner they could prove that the forest surrounding Waikula contained endangered flora and fauna, the better their chances of stopping it.

In the shop, she spotted Paul right away. He looked like an older, grayer version of Yeti. Lumberjack attire, John Lennon glasses and a beard that could be housing several owls. He zeroed in on ‘Iwa and Isla, and welcomed them warmly to his table.

“Sorry to meet under these circumstances, but we’re fighting the same fight. All of us,” he said.

“Yeti’s told me so much about you, I feel like I’m meeting a superstar,” she said, and it was true.

She spent the next half hour filling him in on Waikula and Jones and his plan. He let his tea go untouched as she spoke.

“How far along are they, exactly?” he asked.

“I expect the Environmental Impact Statement to come out any day now, but he’s already clearing trails and bullying people out of the stream, which is not technically his. He claims the project is low density, but we want no density. This is pristine native forest we’re talking about.”

In development terms, low density meant fewer homes or dwellings per acre. But low was often a matter of opinion.

“Endangered species?”

“Honeycreepers, mainly.”

“Any critical?”

“One. But I’m not even sure there are any left in the wild.”

“There’s your ticket. You need to create buzz around that one bird. Even if they’re gone. Get people to care. And get a good attorney. Do you have one?”

“Money’s been an issue, but we’re working on it.”

“With the owls, we kept hammering away at the US Department of Interior, filing notice after notice of violation of the Endangered Species Act. You have to go big or go home.”

He pulled out his phone and showed ‘Iwa photos of spotted owls with round eyes and white spots. They were beautiful creatures. Intense gaze. Elaborately painted feathers. Blending in perfectly with the forest behind them. ‘Iwa thought of the kiwikiu. Olive green and yellow, like leaves and koa flowers, they were so tiny compared to the owls, but just as beautiful. Just as essential.

Paul began scribbling notes as he spoke. “Look, every creature in our ecosystems evolved for a reason. Losing just one can have a devastating effect. Birds are major pollinators and seed dispersers. Without them, the forest can’t continue. That’s your angle.”

“The thing that worries me the most is that Jones will say whatever he needs to get the green light, and do whatever he pleases in the meantime. He knows people, too,” ‘Iwa said.

“Do you have a public land trust?”

“A small one.”

“That’s another way to go. Make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

‘Iwa let out a sad laugh. “We’re talking Maui here. Land prices are some of the highest in the nation.”

“I bet there are people on Maui with more money than this guy. Can you tap into any of them?”

“We can try. And we’re having a fundraiser next week, grassroots style.”

“Fundraisers are great, but unless you can get a big benefactor, they’re mostly just for show.”

Discouraging news. Their organization felt he mea ‘ole. So powerless.

He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “What are the chances of you finding any of those lost honeycreepers?”

“Slim at best. And if we did, it could be years. The forest unveils her secrets only when she’s ready, you know that.”

“Still, focus on it. Get out there, make it a campaign. You need to be loud.”

“One thing about people from Maui—we can be loud.”

“Good. I can make some calls, too. I know a few people. So does Yeti.”

His voice trailed off and he seemed to retreat into his mind for a moment.

“How do you two know each other?” she asked.

“He’s my brother-in-law.”

“So you’re married to his sister?”

Paul sighed. “Actually he married my sister, Grace. But she passed about ten years ago. A small plane crash over the mountains.”

‘Iwa was shocked. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

“Grace was one of the good ones. She was studying to be a veterinarian and wanted to work with wolves and wild animals. Beautiful and young and with so much promise. They say the good die young, and I never really believed it until we lost Grace.”

She sounded like ‘Iwa’s kind of girl. “Yeti’s never said a word to me, but I don’t know him that well.”

“That’s Yeti for you. He took it harder than anyone, naturally. He went off alone to the mountains for years. No one even knew where he went, but he’d send postcards every few months letting us know he was alive. When he emerged, he had this new inner power. Seems like grief can flay you, shatter you to pieces, and then slowly reconstruct you with new facets and fortifications.”

‘Iwa could relate, and liked the idea of a reconstruction stage. Maybe she was in its foothills, ready to keep climbing.

“Does Dane know about Grace?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’ve met Dane a few times, but don’t know him well.”

“I’m just surprised he never mentioned it.”

“He may have his reasons. Yeti is a tough nut to crack,” he said.

“I like him a lot.”

“I love the guy, too. As real as they come.”

They talked more about the fundraiser and plans for Hawai’i, and then said goodbye. Having an expert in her back pocket gave her a nice confidence boost.

‘Iwa could hear the hiss of the surf before she could see it. It was midmorning now, and she and Isla walked on a well-manicured path, with signs pointing out the fragile beauty of the Carmel Bay Ecological Preserve. Wind-sculpted Monterrey cypress stood watch, some mere ghosts of what they used to be, thanks to an invasive bark beetle. Isla noticed not. All she was concerned with was sniffing out every nook and cranny, hunting for rodents. ‘Iwa kept her on a short leash. The clear blue sky was deceptively cold, and she kept her jacket on even in the sun.

Dane had given her explicit instructions for the best viewing point, which was actually at the edge of a golf course. When she arrived, she could see why. The surfers and jet skis were only a stone’s throw away. There were at least fifteen skis and it looked like mayhem. A crowd had already gathered on the grass in front of the 18th hole. Tripods everywhere. ‘Iwa found a spot off to the side and Isla sat down on a towel and watched. A set brewed on the horizon, and several of the skis towed their surfers into position.

Through her telephoto lens, she could see Yeti driving Kama into the first wave. A tall, pitchy kelp-speckled wall of green. As soon as he let go of the rope, Kama pumped the board a few times and then was screaming down the face. The next wave was even bigger. A guy on a yellow gun made the drop only to be mowed down by the whitewater. Everyone in the crowd groaned. He was precariously close to the rocks, but his ski buzzed in and seamlessly swept him onto the sled.

It took her a while to finally locate Dane. He was driving the ski and towing Hope. They missed the first set, but Dane pulled her into a nice open wave. Their timing was perfect and Hope peeled down the line effortlessly, or so it appeared. ‘Iwa was impressed.

Wave after critical wave poured in, and the jet skis buzzed around, towing surfers and rescuing them from wipeouts. More kept coming out. ‘Iwa wondered about the seals and sea lions and otters they’d seen here the day before. Where did they go in swells this big? Hopefully out to sea, far from the slamming waves and jet skis. It seemed like anyone and everyone who owned a ski was out here now. Chaos reigned. One ski even went vertical at the top of a wave, and for a moment everyone on shore watched with mouths hanging open.

He’s not gonna make it , someone screamed.

Holy fuck.

Yard sale.

But the ski landed just beyond the crest, tail end down, leveled off and sped down the back of the wave. Disaster averted. The crowd cheered.

Enormous camera lenses lined the entire bluff. ‘Iwa snapped a few hours’ worth of photos, mostly of Dane and crew when they could snag one, but also of unridden waves dappled in sunlight. Of people in warm clothes on the beach. Of seagulls. Of Isla. Isla was smart as a whip and seemed to know when to ham it up and cock her head, showing her little underbite for the camera. Dane kept saying he was going to find her a proper home, but ‘Iwa knew better. Isla wasn’t going anywhere. Except maybe Hawai’i.

That night, the entire lineup of surfers and their entourages all packed into a pub called Bluewater Tavern, everyone buzzing off adrenaline and ocean. Beer and booze were flowing, and so was testosterone. Two Patagonia guys had joined them, as well as a few bigwigs from other surf companies. They had the largest table in the place, and ‘Iwa was squished in between Dane and a tatted-up man that Hope introduced as Vance.

As usual post surf, the talk was centered around the biggest waves and the best wipeouts, but there was also a debate going on about the threat of shutting down Ghost Tree to jet skis. Dane kept his arm around ‘Iwa the whole time, and made a point to try and include her in the conversation. But Vance kept pissing her off.

“Screw the little furry bastards, Ghost Tree is our holy grail. A bunch of nerds can’t shut us down for riding waves out here a few times a year. They have no fucking idea how much money we bring into the state,” he said.

Vance was a chief something or other for Kelp, an up-and-coming surf brand that sponsored a whole army of groms—kids who surfed. He had a buzzed head, a flattened nose and one of those voices that rose above all others in the room. If ‘Iwa had been closer, she might have slapped him. Instead, she squeezed Dane’s leg, expecting him to say something. But he didn’t.

So she did. “Those furry little bastards are in danger of being wiped off the face of the earth pretty soon here. Do you want their extinction on you?”

She had read up on them last night, doing her homework as any good scientist would. During big surf, otters joined together to form rafts, often wrapping themselves in kelp to stay together, out beyond the breakers or in protected coves. The photos she had seen of these otter communities made her fall for them even harder.

He studied ‘Iwa for a moment before answering. “I guarantee you the sea otters were nowhere to be seen today.”

“How would you know?” she asked.

“I didn’t see any out there. Did you?”

“I wasn’t out there.”

“Exactly,” he said, smugly.

The word KELP was screened on the front of his shirt in gold letters, and it made ‘Iwa want to puke just looking at him. He of all people should know about the wildlife here, and that kelp was not just some fancy seaweed. They were a foundational species. A mother of the sea.

“Did you know that sea otters eat urchins, which eat kelp, balancing the ecosystem to save the kelp forests, which I’d think would be important for your brand?” she said.

Dane piped up. “Anything that eats urchins is a friend of mine.”

“Look, little lady, I’m not against the sea otters. I know they’re cute and all, I just think we need to keep things in perspective,” Vance said.

He was the kind of guy who made her want to retreat to the forest and never leave.

‘Iwa wasn’t done. “They’re not just cute, they’re intelligent—they use tools. Also, otters are nonmigratory, so they stay in one place, which makes it even more important to keep their home free of boats and jet skis. Tell me, whose perspective are we talking about?”

Vance took a swig of his beer and looked to the guy on his right. “Help me out here?”

“You’re on your own, bro,” ‘Iwa heard him say.

A few others chimed in, and ‘Iwa was relieved that everyone else was in favor of the otters. Surfers, after all, relied on a clean and healthy ocean and tended to be good stewards. They weren’t happy about being kicked off a legendary wave, but they understood.

Dinner came, in the form of burgers oozing with cheese and mushrooms, and truffle fries. ‘Iwa had ordered a burrata salad on fresh-picked arugula with a peppery kick. Conversation all but ceased as the group devoured the food and replenished their spent energy from a long day on the water.

Then Yeti brought up Portugal and the mythic wave of Nazaré. “Models are hinting that late next week could be our window,” he said, truffle oil glinting on his beard.

“I think it’s going to be too big. But it’s your call,” Kama said.

Was there such thing as too big? ‘Iwa wondered.

“We could fly into Lisbon, make the hour-and-a-half drive north, and be standing at the Forte de S?o Miguel Arcanjo in less than a day. So we have a little time before we pull the trigger. Let me know by the fourteenth, if we want to be there by the sixteenth,” said Hope, who acted as their travel agent.

March 16. ‘Iwa’s gut twisted.

Rusty from Patagonia said, “Keep me in the loop, because I’d love to send Jeff to shoot you. Sounds like this is the new frontier. Just what we’re looking for.”

“Just when we thought there were no new frontiers,” Kama said.

Yeti rested his hand on Kama’s back. “There will always be new frontiers, mate.”

Dane got a nervous look on his face and remained uncharacteristically quiet. ‘Iwa knew exactly why. The dates that Nazaré might wake up fell on the same weekend as the fundraiser on Maui. She felt her face heating up. You couldn’t plan for good swells. They came when they came, and a surfer would always choose the sea. It was part of the deal—but it was up to ‘Iwa if she accepted the deal.

“I’m down,” Hope said.

“Me too,” Kama said.

Yeti nodded, and they all looked to Dane.

He glanced at ‘Iwa as if he might find an answer to his dilemma in her eyes. No way; she wasn’t giving this to him. Let him figure it out on his own.

“I’m supposed to be on Maui next weekend for a fundraiser,” he said, placing his hand on ‘Iwa’s knee.

Supposed to be. Not I will be .

“Fundraiser for what?” Hope asked.

Just then, Vance, who had been at the bar, slid back into his seat.

Dane said, “For a waterfall and the land around it. A developer plans on building an eco resort in the middle of a virgin forest. ‘Iwa and her group are trying to protect it.”

“Aren’t waterfalls a dime a dozen on Maui?” Vance asked.

By now, his words were slurred and you could tell he was flat-out drunk.

“This one is special,” ‘Iwa said, then added, “Actually, they’re all special.”

A dark smile slid over Vance’s face. “Book me a room with a view then. I’d love to roll out of bed and into that ice-cold spring water. Maui Nō Ka Oi .”

The whole table went quiet and ‘Iwa bit down on her tongue hard enough to draw blood.

Then Hope, bless her heart, said, “Why do you always have to play devil’s advocate, Vance? You’re just saying all this to get a reaction. It’s not cool.”

He held up his hands. “Freedom of speech, man. An eco resort at a Hawaiian waterfall sounds killer, tell me you wouldn’t be all over that.”

Dane leveled him with a hard look. “Time to go home, bro. One too many drinks. I’ll call you a cab.”

Vance stood up and waved them off. “Nah, I’ll walk. You guys are no fun,” he said as he headed toward the door, steadying himself against chairs and people’s backs.

Once he was out, everyone started talking at once.

“Bruddah needs to lay off the sauce,” Kama said.

Dane shook his head. “I didn’t realize he was drinking again.”

“Don’t mind him. He has issues,” Hope said to ‘Iwa.

‘Iwa tried to unruffle her feathers, but there was still the unanswered question hanging in the room. Something told her she already knew the answer.

She forced a smile and said, “No worries. I’m used to people like him.”

Back at the room, Isla greeted them as though they’d been gone for months, whimpering and running laps around the room. Dane dropped to the floor and Isla rolled over between his legs, belly up. ‘Iwa went and lay on the bed. She was so bone-tired she just wanted to go to sleep. They could talk tomorrow. Or not.

But Dane had other ideas. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m tired.”

He came over and sat on the side of the bed, resting his palm lightly over her breastbone. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on both cheeks. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

“Do you?”

“You’re wondering if I’m still coming to your fundraiser like I said I would or if I’m going to bail and go to Portugal.”

“No, I’m not. You’re going to Nazaré, it’s already written in the stars,” she said, unable to meet his gaze.

“Can you at least look at me? I know I promised you, and I want to go, believe me, I do, but the timing could not be worse.”

“I know.”

“This wave has a weird siren call for me—”

She turned her face up to him. “You don’t need to explain yourself. I get it. I’m not going to be the reason you miss out on your dream. But it doesn’t mean I can’t be bummed. This fundraiser is a big deal to me.”

Dane wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger. “What if we plan another fundraiser? Like a surf off. I could probably round up a bunch of pros who would do it in a heartbeat.”

‘Iwa shook her head. “You focus on you and I’ll focus on me.”

“Aren’t you and me an us now?” he said, a frown forming.

She wasn’t in the mood for this talk now. Dane had made it clear how much he wanted to be a part of her life and how he couldn’t get enough of her, but he had yet to say he loved her, which made her wonder.

“In order to be an us , we have to do us things,” she said.

“We do us things all the time.”

“I just feel like I’ve been in your world so much lately, it would be nice for you to come to mine again.”

Spend time with her dad and Koa, explore more of Maui, drink coffee and bake banana bread, meet more of her friends and just be .

His voice took on an edge. “Hang on, you came here to meet Paul, and I just offered to come to Maui and put on a contest for your waterfall. And earlier you told me you understood about Portugal, so now you don’t? Say what you mean, ‘Iwa.”

“What I mean is, I want you to go to Portugal and do your thing, and I’ll go to Maui and do mine, and then after that we’ll see.”

“We’ll see? About what?” he asked.

“About everything.”

The muscles in his jaw tightened. “We only have a small window left of big surf in the northern hemisphere. After that, I can come hang out for as long as you like, and I’m looking forward to it.”

“But isn’t that when you do more woodworking?”

“I’ll carve out time for you, as much as you want. I’ll come for a month,” Dane said.

“And what if Fiji starts breaking? Or Tahiti.”

“Well, then it’ll be faster to fly out from Hawai’i than California. I would only be gone a few days. We can make this work, ‘Iwa, but only if we want it to.”

She didn’t respond.

“Do you want it to?” he said, finally.

Yes.

No.

“I’m not sure,” she whispered.

‘Iwa felt sick to her stomach and rolled over, away from him. What did she mean? There was a part of her that wanted to not care. Not caring was easier. But she did care. Dane had promised to come to Maui, and then promptly broken that promise. In her experience, one broken promise meant more down the road. Her own words from that first morning at Maui Bean came back to her. The ocean is your one true love, the one you put before all else.

Dane got up and went into the bathroom, and ‘Iwa drifted off, suddenly not sure of anything.