The Maui Effect (Man-Made Trilogy #1)

The Other Uncle

‘Iwa

November

It was impossible to live in Pā‘ia and not know that all the world’s best big wave surfers were in town. ‘Iwa had seen the list of invitees in the newspaper. Her father had made sure of that. He dropped the newspaper on the table in front of her as she sipped her coffee Sunday morning.

“Your boy is in town, did you see?”

Her friend Lucy had already texted her. “He’s not my boy, and I saw.”

“You ever gonna talk to him again? Every person past and present makes mistakes, you know. But oftentimes it’s what happens after the mistake that’s important.”

‘Iwa avoided talking to her father because she knew he had a soft spot for Dane and she didn’t want to be talked out of her decision.

“Shouldn’t you side with your daughter?” she asked.

“Not when your daughter has a head like a coconut.”

“What am I supposed to do, call him and ask him why he was kissing someone else? No thank you. And he hasn’t bothered to get a hold of me.”

Even though she had asked him not to. It had been in the heat of a terrible moment, and she had meant it at the time. It just seemed like if he really wanted her, he would have at least tried.

“Things aren’t always as they seem. You might be surprised at what you find out.”

Koa did not like when they argued, and came up and leaned against ‘Iwa with all his hulk. “You’re upsetting Koa, please stop,” she said.

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“You act like you’re okay, but I see right through you. You’re becoming a hermit at the ripe old age of twenty-five and it’s not healthy. You’ve lost weight and I can practically see through you. At least do yourself a favor and talk to the guy.”

He was right about the weight. Her jeans now fell below her hips and she had moved up a notch on her belt. She told herself it was all the hiking and stress over the waterfall, but the truth was, her appetite had evaporated when she had left California.

“I love you, Dad, but you can be annoyingly pushy. I’ll think about it,” she said, heading for the door.

Late that afternoon, when she arrived at Uncle’s, she found an ‘ōhi‘a lei po‘o with her name on it in the kitchen.

“Who is this from?” she asked.

“Uncle Tutu.”

Uncle Tutu was Eddie’s hānai uncle. He lived upcountry and came down now and then for provisions. As part of his rounds about town, he usually stopped at Uncle’s to catch up with Eddie and join ‘Iwa out back for a few songs. He was one of those underground musicians, the best ukulele player no one had ever heard of. At least no one outside of central and east Maui. ‘Iwa set the lei on her head, tying the two ends together, then walked out back. Tutu sat with Winston, showing him a complex picking sequence.

“How’s my favorite uncle?” she said, leaning in and giving him a hug.

“Aloha, girl.”

Everyone was either boy or girl . It had always been that way with him.

“To what do I owe this gorgeous lei?”

His voice grated like sandpaper. “Special day, special wahine .”

No one knew how old Uncle Tutu was, but he was leathery enough to be two hundred, with a shock of white hair. His appearances were not usually accidental, and mostly coincided with something big occurring in their sphere. Before they even knew Lily was sick, Uncle had come in one day out of the blue, handed Eddie a piece of paper with a phone number on it and walked out the door. Eddie knew enough to call the number. It belonged to an oncologist. Which was why seeing him made ‘Iwa’s neck itch.

“Not that every day isn’t special here, but really, what’s the occasion?” she asked.

“I saw dis lei at the farmers market. Made for a queen, and you da queenliest wahine I know.”

She laughed. “Aw, thank you, Uncle, I love it. Are you going to stay and play with us?”

“Just a couple.”

“Stay as long as you want.”

Winston was wearing a long-sleeved brown palaka shirt, which set off his chocolate eyes. Every now and then, his striking looks caught her off guard, and tonight was one of those nights. The place was mostly empty, so they played and talked and talked and played. Uncle chose the songs, and ‘Iwa and Winston played along as best they could. After about an hour or so, ‘Iwa noticed the small reserved cards on most of the tables. Uncle Tutu and his lei had distracted her.

“Who are these tables reserved for?” she asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

“Your father didn’t tell you?”

‘Iwa felt a pressure building in her chest. “No, he didn’t.”

“The Pe’ahi Challenge people.”

She was going to kill Eddie. Blood on coals, she set her guitar down and marched back into the kitchen, where the scent of fresh-out-of-the-oven liliko‘i pies swallowed her whole. “I’m outta here, Dad. Win and Uncle Tutu can play tonight.”

Eddie stopped fanning the pies. “If you leave now, you’re fired.”

She knew he didn’t mean it, especially since she only worked there to help him out. “You would never fire me, I’m your daughter. And that is a direct quote from you yourself.”

He folded his arms. “Watch me.”

“Come on, Dad. If you had at least given me warning about who was coming, I could have mentally prepared.”

“If I had told you, you would have run for the hills.”

“No.”

Yes.

“They specifically requested you, so you have to stay.” He opened his arms and walked toward her. “Please, ‘Iwa.”

The love she had for this man made it impossible to stay mad at him for longer than a few heartbeats, and she let herself fall into him. “Just be ready for the fallout because I guarantee you there will be some.”

“I make a good fallout shelter,” he said, with a half-cocked smile.

Seventeen minutes later, several contest organizers arrived, followed by a slow trickle of surfers. ‘Iwa was all nerves and refused to look anywhere other than her guitar strings. Uncle Tutu kept plucking away and she strummed along with him. He had this incredible voice that could sound like Gabby Pahinui one minute, Israel Kamakawiwo‘ole the next.

Eventually, all the tables filled up. Tutu had been playing longer than he usually did, and ‘Iwa forced herself to say hello to the crowd, letting her eyes sweep over the sea of sun-streaked hair. Two men were missing. Dane and Kama. Maybe Dane wasn’t coming. Probably didn’t want to see her. Her mind would have kept going down that road of maybes, when a tall, familiar, bearded man walked through the door.

Yeti.

If Yeti was here—

Kama followed.

She waited, but there was no sign of Dane.

Better that way, she told herself. Kama blew her a kiss and Yeti nodded, as they squeezed in with a few other guys. ‘Iwa smiled and kept playing, trying to appear unfazed. As though having them all here was an everyday occurrence. She had moved on. Dane was old news.

Yeah right.

“Uncle,” she said, “let me sing the next one.”

Over the past few months, she had been playing Adele’s “Someone Like You” at home. By the time she would finish singing, her cheeks would be damp and her heart pounded raw. In some strange way, it gave her permission to grieve. Singing the song in front of a crowd was probably a foolish thing to do, but if Adele had survived a soul-crushing breakup and lived to sing about it to the entire world, ‘Iwa surely could manage in a tiny restaurant in Pā‘ia.

I heard that you’re settled down...

Up until her voice hit the mic, their little trio had been background music, but soon, people stopped talking and looked her way. ‘Iwa did Adele well. Same rich, husky voice, same angsty anguish. When she finished, a fine dusting of feather rain came down, and she felt an overwhelming sadness for all that might have been.

It was probably the last song a patio full of testosterone wanted to hear, but what the hell. A few people clapped, if a little unenthusiastically. Uncle Tutu squeezed her hand and nodded toward the back, under the eave. She followed his line of vision to a figure in an orange aloha shirt holding a wire-haired dog. A tremble started up in her abdomen and spread out in waves from there. ‘Iwa felt lightheaded. She had no idea what to do. Smile, look away, say something? None seemed adequate for the moment, so she glanced over at Winston.

“Your turn. Maybe something more upbeat,” she said.

Win chose Jack Johnson, “Banana Pancakes.”

Uncle Tutu slipped away and she watched him weave through the tables and make his way to Dane.

For a moment ‘Iwa forgot what she was playing. Isla wiggled in Dane’s arms, trying to lick Uncle Tutu in the face. ‘Iwa missed a beat. Winston bumped her knee with his. They finished out the song, but she had gone numb. They played a few more songs, then took a break. Eddie had come out back and was now talking to Dane as if they were old buddies. The whole world seemed to be conspiring. Dane caught her looking, smiled and lifted his hand in a half wave. ‘Iwa half waved back.

“Some nerve he’s got, showing up here,” Win said.

He knew how badly ‘Iwa hurt, and she knew he was just being protective.

“Doesn’t seem to bother my dad.”

“Does it bother you? Because I’ll tell him to leave if you want me to.”

It felt like someone had taken her feelings and thrown them in a blender. She did not want to see Dane. But she did want to see him. She did not want to talk to him. But she was aching to talk to him. She wanted nothing more than to walk over there and fall into his arms. Seeing him actually walking again, looking strong and vital, made her blindingly happy. But she also wished he would leave.

“Nah. I’m fine. It was just a matter of time before I ran into him. Probably good to get it over with,” she said.

A moment later, a small whirlwind of fur leaped onto her lap, set her paws on ‘Iwa’s shoulder and started making moves to kiss her chin.

“Isla! It’s good to see you, too, little friend,” ‘Iwa said, unable to hold back a laugh.

Dogs would always break through the bullshit, you could count on that. Kama and Yeti must have decided it was now safe to come up and say hi, too. Yeti commented on her guitar, and Kama invited her to a party at the farm the following weekend. They told her about the ceremony, and about the swell coming tomorrow. No one mentioned Dane, and Dane stayed where he was, holding up the wall. Tutu had disappeared inside.

“Is Dane going to make like a tree all night?” she finally said.

“He wasn’t sure he should come.”

“Am I that scary?”

“You know it’s not that. He just wants to respect your space,” Kama said.

Winston cleared his throat and strummed his ukulele. “Time to start up again. Guys, would you mind?”

He began to play then, and Uncle Tutu shuffled back over with his ukulele and joined in. “You. Go,” he said to ‘Iwa, nodding toward Dane.

There was nothing to do but follow his order, and she worked her way around tables, stopping to say hello to a few surfers she had met this past year with Dane, prolonging the inevitable just a little bit longer. When there was no one left between her and Dane, she crossed the empty space slowly until she was standing an arm’s length away.

“Hi,” he said.

‘Iwa watched his lashes touch his cheekbones when he blinked, remembered the feel of them feathering on her neck.

“Hi.”

He had grown a beard, not as long as Yeti’s but full and darker than his hair. It aged him, but in a good way. The air between them crackled, and she backed away a step to keep herself out of his gravitational field.

“It’s good to see you, ‘Iwa,” Dane said.

Good was not the word she would have chosen for this moment. Complicated maybe. Or conflicted. Actually, tragic might be the best way to put it.

“You’re walking again,” she said, for lack of any other available words.

“Took a few minutes, but yeah. I’m at about ninety percent. Balance is still not all the way there, but it’s coming.”

“I’m happy for you.”

His eyes were still deep ocean blue and he still smelled like surfboard wax. The effect was intoxicating, and she eased away a few inches further. Dane raked his fingers through his hair, sending it out in all directions, and bounced from one foot to the other.

Then he surprised her. “It was Yeti, you know, the anonymous donor.”

“What?”

“He swore me to secrecy, but said I could tell you. I guess you made a big impression on him.”

She searched for Yeti in the crowd, and found him sitting with his back to them, deep in conversation with someone. They could certainly use more Yetis in the world.

“Unbelievable. Why didn’t he just tell me when he gave it to us?”

Dane shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him. He likes to fly under the radar, helping people and causes without making a big deal.”

“Fifty grand is a big deal.”

“Not to him.”

“That was our biggest single donation.”

“I feel lucky to count him as a friend,” Dane said.

“Is that what you came here to tell me?” she asked, feeling a little confrontational.

His smile faded. “Look, I know you probably didn’t want to see me, but everyone was coming, and—”

“No need to lurk back here, join your friends,” she said, cutting him off and motioning toward the tables, a little too aggressively.

Win and Tutu were playing “Southern Cross,” and they sounded great together. Maybe she could just sneak out over the side railing and slink off like a cat in the night.

“I didn’t come here to see my friends,” he said, gaze unwavering.

This was not the time or place for any big conversations. Nor could he say anything that would change her mind. All the voices, the music, the wind-rustled trees, they were making it hard to think. Or maybe it was being so close to Dane.

She thought of Winston’s words after she had come back from California, heartbroken. Everything happens for a reason , he’d told her. She remembered thinking, fuck that, no reason in the world would make what just happened with Dane all right . For the next hundred years she would be obsessively reliving the image of him kissing Sunny. Now she bit her lip and drew blood trying to get the memory out of her head.

‘Iwa glanced over at Winston; she couldn’t help it. Then she looked back at Dane. He was standing there not breathing. When she had said no second chances, she meant it. She could not risk losing him a second time.

Dane eyed Winston. “I saw the picture of you two in the paper. Are you together?”

Her body tensed. Maybe she ought to let him think so, but lying was not her way. “No. The photographer happened to be there when I accidentally kissed him. It was bad timing.”

She could not risk eye contact, instead looking at Isla, who had come to sit by his feet.

“Accidentally?”

“I meant to kiss his cheek. He turned. Not that it matters.”

She realized how ridiculous it sounded, but stuck to her guns.

“Just so you know, it made me want to punch someone. Seeing the photo, I mean,” he said.

His words triggered a detonation inside of her. “Yeah? Well now you know how I felt when I walked in on you and your dumb supermodel ex-girlfriend making out. Talk about wanting to punch someone. But I’m over it now,” she said, shrugging as if that might bolster her case. “Over us .”

“Are you sure?” he said, mouth drawing downward. “Because I’m not.”

The invisible boundary between them weakened, and ‘Iwa felt herself slanting toward him. For one long moment, she wanted more of Dane—the hum of his voice, the way his eyes bored into her as though reading every thought, the indent on his chin that she had kissed more times than she could count. But she knew what she had to do—be polite and send him on his way. And then she could really work on moving on.

Her mouth filled with cotton, but she got out the words. “I guess you should have thought of that before you went and ruined everything. You know, maybe it would be better if you left.”

Dane leaned against the wall, as if needing its wooden support. She had never seen him so nervous. “Is that what you really want, deep down?” he asked.

There was thunder in her heart. “Yeah, and it’s what I need.”

“I am sorry for everything I put you through. I was awful. I was hurting. I was a dumbass idiot who made the biggest mistake of his life and is now paying for it.” Looking defeated, he handed her a small Patagonia bag with something heavy wrapped inside. “Will you at least take this?”

‘Iwa looked up at him. “I can’t—”

“Please.”

She took it and ran her hands along its hard edges. A book, and she knew exactly which one. God, please get me out of here, before I do something stupid.

Dane seemed to sense her growing discomfort. “I’ll leave you be, but I had to see you and put this in your hands. Isla wanted to see you, too.”

She stood for a moment, taking in his closeness for what would be the last time, then bent down and kissed Isla. When she turned to go, he leaned in and put his hand on her forearm, as though he wanted to say one last thing.

Their eyes locked.

“And just so there’s no question—I love you, ‘Iwa,” he said, voice like running water over rocks.

Trembling, she pulled her arm away and made for the kitchen and the safety of the one man she knew would never hurt her.