Saturday dawned overcast and drizzly, as it often was in Hilo. Lei misted her orchids on their plastic shelving under the mango tree, Keiki panting contentedly beside her. It was almost time to bring one of the phalaenopsis inside. Two butterfly-like blooms had opened on its graceful stem, with a row of buds promising more. Delicate purple tracery marked the ‘veins’ of the blood orchid, a rare variety.
There were apparently still beautiful things in the world.
She’d gone home and cried her eyes dry, then gone to bed. She was barely aware of Stevens coming over, and he’d wisely left her alone. This morning’s emotional hangover was the worst she ever remembered.
Lei wondered again what it was about her that brought such bad luck. She remembered telling Mary that, and the way her friend had dismissed it. Now all those possibilities, including their friendship, would never happen for a beautiful, brave, fun-loving woman named Mary who should’ve had her whole life ahead. At the thought Lei’s eyes filled again and she blinked rapidly.
“Good morning.”
She turned, mister in hand, every movement feeling heavy and slow. Stevens was leaning in the back doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand, holding another out to her. His hair was rumpled, his blue eyes dark and sleepy, and he hadn’t put on a shirt. His jeans rode low on his lean hips and looked like they were going to fall off. This would have interested her on a different day, she thought with the muffled objectivity that cloaked her.
“Thanks,” she said, walking over and taking the mug.
“Are you okay?” His voice was husky. He reached out a long finger and pushed a curl out of her eyes. She could only imagine how unsightly she looked.
“I don’t know.” She brushed past him and went into the house. “I guess so. I have a date with Tom Watanabe to get ready for.”
“I’m so sorry about your friend.”
“You keep saying that. I actually didn’t know her that well.” Lei heard how wooden, how stilted and wrong this sounded and couldn’t seem to make it any different. She stood by the sink and looked out the window as she sipped the coffee.
“Well, she’s got some good people on her case, I hear.” He sat in one of the kitchen chairs and turned his coffee mug in his hands. “I don’t want you to go out with Watanabe. It’s a bad idea, especially today.”
She picked up his shirt-draped over the back of a chair-and tossed it at his head. “And I think you should put this on.”
She sat down as he pulled on the shirt and combed his dark hair with his fingers. She took a big swig of coffee.
“I actually can’t believe I’m going on a date with this guy,” she finally said. “What was I thinking?”
“You can always call and cancel.”
“I guess I better. I’m just not up to it today.”
Lei went to the coffeepot, pouring herself a refill for something to do. The muffled, insulated feeling was dissipating, replaced by an exquisite oversensitivity. The tiny hairs on her body seemed to stand on end, colors were suddenly too bright and her ears rang with every nuance of sound.
She must be going crazy.
Before she could change her mind she opened her phone, called the number on the card Tom had given her, and told him she was sick and couldn’t go.
“How about dinner then? Next couple days, whenever you feel better. No big deal, I’ll make one of my grandmother’s recipes, you can just walk down the block.”
“Okay,” Lei said. Easier to say yes than keep arguing with Stevens across the table from her, listening. “I’ll call you.”
She snapped the phone shut.
“I got interviews set up with the two rape victims. Feel up for a road trip? Maybe it would be good to get your mind off Mary by doing something for the investigation.”
“Absolutely,” Lei said. “Let me just do something about my hair.” No one was saying it yet, but Lei was sure whoever killed the Mohuli`i girls had also murdered her friend. She walked into the bathroom and whispered to her ghostly-pale, puffy face in the mirror.
“Interviewing rape victims. Great. Well, Mary, at least I’ll be doing something for you.”