Distant Echoes (4 page)

“I wouldn’t doubt it. That was some accident. What a fluke for a missile to go astray and hit a boat.” His voice grew thick. “Laban was in the wrong place.” He put the dish of mango on the table.

“I’m sorry, Bane.” Kaia put her hand on his shoulder and he nodded.

“Someone needs to call his mother.”

“Let’s go see our grandfather. He may already have done it.”

“I doubt it.”

“I know.” Ever since she could remember, her grandfather never talked about anything unpleasant. His mission in their lives was to make up for what their mother had done. He turned a blind eye to unpleasantness.

Bane went to the sink and opened the dishwasher. “These clean?”

“Don’t they look clean?”

“Just checking.” He dug a fork out of the dishwasher and sat at the table then began to eat his mango. Kaia began to empty the dishwasher.

He might make fun of her housekeeping, but she’d done a great job of decorating her small home, she thought. Her collection of Hawaiian art was shown off to advantage by the pale lemon walls. Tile floors added to the beach-house feel, as did the high ceilings and the gauzy curtains at the windows. It might be a little messy today, but it wasn’t as bad as what Bane made out. She liked her little home.

Too bad she never had much time to enjoy it.

“Have you heard anything about your next assignment?” Her brother loved his job as an oceanographer, and she knew his hiatus would make him restless in the coming weeks.

He shook his head. “The ship repairs should be done in a month. I hope they stay on schedule. In the meantime, I’ll get to bug you and
Tutu kane.
”

“And Mano.”

“I doubt we’ll see much of him.”

“He was excited to hear you’d be staying at least a month. You’re too hard on him, Bane.” Kaia watched him rub this thick black hair and look away. Bane sometimes forgot how his intensity affected those who loved him. His black-and-white perspective allowed little room for life’s gray areas.

“I’ll try to watch what I say,” Bane said finally.

Kaia nodded. It was best not to rely too much on Bane’s comment. For one thing, she would be surprised if he followed through. Sometimes she wondered if Bane saw his teenage self in Mano. Though Mano was thirty-two, he was one of those men who looked at life as something to be conquered.

They all carried the scars of what their mother had done. Bane said Kaia threw herself into her dolphin studies to show she was worthy, he traveled to forget, and Mano laughed at danger to prove it didn’t hurt.

Her brother was too perceptive sometimes.

“You’re thinking too much,” Bane said. “Whenever you get that look on your face, I know you’re wondering where she is.”

“I don’t care where she is.”

“You care. We all care, but we can’t change what happened. If we found her, maybe we could all move on and shed the crazy things that drive us. I’ve been thinking about trying to locate her.”

Kaia shut the dishwasher with more force than she intended. “I couldn’t stand it. Another rejection would be more than I could take.” Kaia scooped up Hiwa, who had wandered back to the kitchen. Cuddling the cat helped soothe the woeful feelings that always accompanied the mention of her mother.

Bane’s dark eyes softened, and he got up and took his empty plate to the sink. “She might have grown up, Kaia.”

“Let’s drop it,” she said. “
Tutu kane
will be wondering where we are.” She put the cat on the floor and went to the door.

Bane followed her. “You need to get some sleep. Me too. I’m beat.”

“You can sleep when you’re dead. Besides, I want to check on Nani. Last night was stressful for her.” She led the way to the steps cut into the rock outside her front door. The railing was rusty but still sturdy, which was a good thing because the stairs were steep. She used them nearly every day.

She
hurried down the steps to her grandfather’s cottage in the jungle just off the beach. After Hurricane ´Iniki, the family had tried to talk
Tutu kane
into moving, but he’d repaired the house and moved right back in. She had to admit, she loved having him just a few steps away.

The aroma of roast pig wafted on the morning breeze and reminded Kaia of the lu’au tonight. Every Friday her grandfather hosted a lu’au on the beach for a local hotel. Dressed in his Hawaiian chieftain finery, he was a sight to behold, and most visitors came to get a look at him rather than for the outstanding food.

Her grandfather, Oke Kohala, still as fit as he was in his years as a pearl diver, sat on the sand making a sandcastle. Dressed in shorts and a red and yellow Hawaiian-print shirt, he didn’t look seventy-eight, in spite of his white hair.

Kaia joined him on the sand and bent down to kiss him, inhaling the aroma from the cloves he perpetually had in his mouth. “Where’s Mano?”

“He called, and he’s on his way.” Her grandfather stood and dusted the sand from his hands. He pointed to the porch chairs. “Have a seat.”

Bane moved toward the chairs, and Kaia followed. “We wanted to make sure you knew what happened.” Bane dropped into a chair then sprang to his feet when a loud
whoopee
pierced the air. He went sprawling on the sand in his haste to escape.

Tutu kane
laughed, his face as expressive as a child’s. Kaia giggled, her fatigue dropping away at the expression of horror on her brother’s face.

“Where’d you get that?” His smile feeble, Bane picked up the cushion.

“Mano bought it for me yesterday.” Still chuckling, their grandfather took the cushion from Bane and tucked it under his arm. “He bet me a shave ice that I couldn’t get Bane to sit on it.”

Bane managed a weak smile then sat gingerly back in the chair, sans cushion.

Still chuckling at the pleasure in her grandfather’s face, Kaia sat beside him. “I have a feeling Mano is going to pay for this.”

“I’m glad to see you and know that you are both okay,” their grandfather said. “Any idea what happened? The news this morning was still pretty sketchy.”

Bane shook his head. “Kaia and I were talking about how it almost looked deliberate. But the navy wouldn’t have tried to take out a pleasure craft.”

Her grandfather put his big hand on Kaia’s shoulder. “I see the self-recrimination in your face. You always think you can fix everything. This wasn’t your fault.”

She sighed. “I keep wishing we’d been closer, that I was there sooner. At least five people died. We’re pretty sure . . .” She stopped and her gaze went to her brother. He gave a slight nod. “We can’t find Laban.”

Her grandfather’s smile leaked away. “It was Laban’s boat? Are you sure?”

“Mano saw the name. There’s no mistake.”

“And Laban’s missing?”

She nodded, not sure what to expect from her grandfather. He seldom showed his emotions.

“Maybe he’ll be found yet.”

Tutu kane
was never one to face facts. Kaia suppressed a sigh. “Someone needs to call his mother.”

A look of dread crossed her grandfather’s face. Bane must have seen it as well, because he stood. “I’ll do it. Where’s the number?”

“The address book is in the drawer by the phone,” Oke said. He plucked at a string on his shirt.

Bane nodded and went to the house. Kaia glanced toward the water. “Have you seen Nani this morning?”

“She chattered her usual good morning before going off to find some fish.”

“There she is!” Kaia spotted the dorsal fin coming into the small inlet. All dolphins looked a little different. She could recognize Nani out of a pod of dozens. She went down the steps to the edge of the water and waded in. The warm caress of the Pacific waves brought a comfort she never felt on land. Sometimes Kaia thought she was half fish herself.

Nani glided to her and nudged her with her nostrum. The dolphin squeaked and whistled a particular tune that Kaia recognized as Nani’s greeting. She sank to her knees and rubbed Nani’s skin. The dolphin rolled to her back so Kaia could rub her stomach. With her dolphin, Kaia felt accepted and whole. Once Nani found her own kind, she could have chosen never to come back, but she had never missed a day.

Snagging her research job at Seaworthy Labs had been a stroke of unbelievable luck. She’d gotten her PhD last year, and now at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, she was living the dream she’d had since she was ten and swam with her first dolphin. Every day she and Nani moved closer to understanding one another. Someday people would know her name as the woman who bridged the language barrier with sea mammals. She’d be able to hold her head high without shame. That day had been too long in coming.

Nani bore no injuries from the day before that Kaia could see. She gave the dolphin a final pat then slogged through the waves to the pier that tottered like a drunken man out into the water. Damaged in the 1992 hurricane, it needed replacing, but her grandfather had been reluctant to do it. He’d helped his father build it seventy years ago, and he couldn’t let it go.

She hoisted herself onto the weathered boards and let her legs dangle in the water. The sound of the surf soothed her as she watched the dolphin frolic. After about fifteen minutes, Nani swished past Kaia’s legs then rolled onto her back. When Kaia reached to touch her, the dolphin darted away as if to coax Kaia into going for a swim with her.

“Not today, Nani,” she said. She began to sing a song she remembered from her childhood, one her mother had made up. It was about ´
ohana
, or family. Singing the words about the closeness of family, she felt her depression lift. Sometimes she felt she didn’t have an ´
ohana
with her mother and father gone, and the song reminded her that family was more than parents. She needed to go talk to her grandfather, but not yet.

T
hat girl never could sing,” Oke Kohala said. His smile stretched across his brown face. He rose and moved toward the house.

Jesse’s lips twitched. Kaia’s voice had carried over the waves, and he had to admit she sounded a little like a tern—all squawk and no tone. But he’d still felt the heart in her song. He watched Kaia come toward him like Ni`ihau, the Hawaiian goddess of the sea. Fanciful stuff, but she really was lovely. Her long hair was bound in a French braid that hung over one shoulder and nearly touched her waist. High cheekbones jutted out from the sweet curves and angles of her face. Shapely black brows made an emphatic statement over her large dark eyes fringed with thick lashes. Her full lips drooped with weariness. Her naturally tanned skin looked kissed by the sun, and her eyes were as soft and melting as a black-tailed deer’s.

Her eyebrows winged up when she saw him. “Good morning, Commander.” Dressed in white shorts and a turquoise tank, she seemed an extension of the Pacific behind her. “Have they found any more survivors?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“I thought I’d run over to the hospital later today and see if there is anything I can do.”

“You did plenty. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

A blush touched her cheeks, and she looked away. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“Not everyone has a dolphin to help them.”

Her eyes brightened. “Nani is remarkable, isn’t she? She’s so intelligent and knew what to do without being told.”

He took a deep breath. “That’s the other reason I’m here. I need your help. Yours and Nani’s.”

She frowned. “I don’t know what I could do to help the navy. Or is this personal?”

“No,
this is for the navy, for your country actually.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why does it sound like I won’t like it?”

At least she sounded amused. He took hope. “As a native of Kaua’i, I’m sure you’re aware of how important this new defense system is?”

She nodded. “Everyone has been talking about it.”

“The missile system we’re testing is vital to national security. It’s the best we’ve tested yet—until yesterday.” It revved Jesse to talk about it, and he leaned forward.

“Sounds exciting. But where do I come in?” She took a step back.

He realized he was getting into her personal space and retreated. “We’ve had some disturbing security leaks at the base—desks riffled, hard drives destroyed, things like that. The last breach left one sailor dead.” Kaia’s eyes widened. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that part. “We think it came from the sea. You and Nani could help patrol offshore to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

She was shaking her head before he finished. “I don’t want Nani in danger. She’s special. Nothing can be allowed to happen to her.”

“Nothing will. We’d put a camera on her and let her patrol the waters. If anything showed up, we’d be right there. She would never be asked to stop an intruder, just tag them like the dolphins did in the Persian Gulf War. Apprehension would be my job.”

“The whole thing is your job,” Kaia said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Count us out.”

“I can’t. I need you.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just not possible.”

He hadn’t expected such uncompromising refusal. She had to know how valuable dolphins had been to the navy in the past. They had cleared the shipping lanes of explosives during the Iraqi war in a fraction of the time it would have taken divers to do the same. Her dolphins could save lives and man hours. But Jesse could tell from the finality in her voice that he’d get nowhere being a nice guy. Her boss at Seaworthy Labs needed to agree to this anyway. Maybe he could get him to order her to help.

Three

T
wo days later, Jesse waved at Duncan Latchet, who stood outside Jo-Jo’s Clubhouse in Waimea. Jo-Jo’s made the best shave ice on the island, though the ramshackle wooden building that housed it was enough to scare away the tourists. Duncan already had his treat. Jesse’s mouth watered just thinking of his favorite—banana shave ice with macadamia-nut ice cream in the bottom. He’d missed it during the twelve years he’d spent on the mainland. The pale imitations they’d called Hawaiian ice were nothing like the real thing.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Jesse told his friend as he joined him with shave ice in hand. He scooped a bite into his mouth before sitting beside Duncan. Duncan was a year older than Jesse, but they’d played football together for the Red Raiders, the Kaua’i High School team. Duncan looked every inch his forty years and then some. His blond hair was thinning on top, and weary lines marked his mouth.