White Ginger

chapter 10



A bonfire lit the sands, and the sky was aflame when they rounded the last bend to the point. The rosy clouds low on the horizon were edged in gold. Colored lanterns and tall flambeaux would soon completely take over the task of illumination. All around them, people were dressed in casual Hawaiian shirts or sarongs. Young girls in Hawaiian grass skirts greeted new arrivals with floral lei. Roasted pork aromas wafted on the breeze, blending with the perfume of night blossoms.

Arne took her arm as they walked across the still warm sand, Lani holding his other hand tightly, her eyes huge and bright with expectation. “See the stage, Melie? That’s where I’ll be dancing after the feast. Mom’s got my costume in our car. Did you bring a camera?”

“It’s in my bag.” Amelie patted the side of a geometrically patterned cloth tote hanging from her right shoulder. “I’ll take lots of photos of you and print them off.”

Lani clapped her hands and scampered off to tell her parents.

As Amelie straightened, she felt Arne stiffen. His gaze was on someone out of Amelie’s line of sight. With admirable restraint, she turned slowly. “I guess everyone in town is here tonight.”

She scanned the crowd and found the woman Lili called the bitch, who’d thrown Arne over for the billionaire. Dressed in a tight red halter-necked dress, she hung onto the arm of an impeccably tailored man of average height in his early forties. He wore an Armani suit, silk shirt and Italian leather loafers; his only concession to the beach location was the lack of a tie. An expensive gold watch reflected the last of the sun’s rays when he tipped Marita’s chin up. She laughed, sliding her hand possessively up his chest and leaning her body in close.

Like an alley cat marking its territory. Oh, Melie, when did you become so catty? Remember, that’s the woman Arne was in love with.

Schooling her expression, she gestured toward the couple. “Is that Sanderson?”

“That’s him.”

“Arne, do you really think he’s behind the sabotage and–everything?”

“I can’t see who else would have the money or the motive. We’ll just have to wait on the police reports from Honolulu.”

A young man stepped between them and their view of Sanderson, a broad smile on his face.

“Hi, Amelie. Remember me? Tom, from the real-estate office?” Amelie blinked as she refocused to the present.

“Of course I remember you. Hello.”

“Glad to see you made it here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it, not after you made it sound so interesting.” She offered a smile and her hand, which he held too long for her liking. She’d pegged him as friendly in the Realtor’s office, not gauche.

“Hello, Tom.” Arne held out his hand.

“Arne, how are you?” He stammered slightly, shifting from one foot to the other. Arne’s reply was pleasant, but he casually dropped an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, well.” A husky female voice drawled over Tom’s shoulder. “The little Australian visitor.” Marita slid into their group. “I see you’ve met the local talent. How are you, Arne?”

“Fine. Where’s Sanderson?”

Marita slipped in beside him. She walked her fingers up his arm and bent toward him, pouting. “He’s gone to talk business and left me alone. Dance with me?”

Gracefully inserting herself between Arne and Amelie, she pulled Tom over. “Why don’t you dance with–Emily, isn’t it?” And with a wiggle worthy of a Hollywood starlet, she led Arne off to dance.

“Shall we?” Reluctantly, Amelie took Tom’s arm and joined the swirling couples. Through the crowd, she caught glimpses of Arne. He and Marita looked good together. Both tall, and dressed in red that could have been deliberately chosen to complement one another, they looked like the perfect couple. Arne tilted his head closer to Marita’s, his gaze fixed firmly on his partner. Was Marita trying to win him back? Amelie wished she could hear what they were talking about.

“Are you okay?” Tom stopped dancing and looked at her with concern.

“I’m sorry. That pork smells heavenly. How long do you think it will be before we eat?”

Fixing a smile in place, she concentrated on her partner. No one would know her feelings for Arne were anything more than amicable. Tom took her hand and swung back into the crowd. He was a capable, if somewhat energetic dancer. She had even begun to enjoy their dance when Arne and Marita came up beside them. Arne tapped Tom on the shoulder.

“Your turn now I think. Amelie?”

Marita frowned as Arne contrived to swap partners, relinquishing her hand to Tom. With seeming good grace, Tom bowed out, offering Marita his hand. She stood a moment watching Amelie step into Arne’s arms, then smiled a social smile at Tom.

“Do you have any more competitions coming up?” Marita asked Tom before other couples moved between them.

Expertly, Arne picked up the beat. “Sorry about that. I think Sanderson sent her to keep me occupied. I saw him talking hard with the head of the civic council. I came back as soon as I could.”

Amelie’s heart danced a jig as her feet picked up the new rhythm.

He ditched her. He came looking for me.

“She’s a wonderful dancer.”

“She’s stilted. She worries about putting a hair out of place. But dancing with you…” His hands caressed her hips. “You’re so much a part of the music, so smooth…” Their hips moved together, their steps matching.

“I could watch you all night, except that I want to feel you in my arms,” he whispered.

Kevin and Lili cruised up to them, more intent on covering the dance floor than accuracy. “Found you! Gosh, you two are amazing together. Where did you learn to dance like that, Amelie?”

That was the end of flirting with Arne. Through the next dance, they stayed within conversation range. But Amelie floated in his arms, until the crowd moved to the pit area when dinner was called.

Arne’s hands rested lightly on her waist as they joined the line to the food tables and he introduced her to many people as friends joined them. Tonight was for relaxation, good conversation and laughter. And she pushed the thought of danger from her mind, determined to enjoy the fun.

“What do you think of our luau?”

Eating with her fingers, she licked the juices running down her hands. “I love it. What’s next?”

Arne took her banana leaf plate and wrapped it with his.

“A fresh drink, then the entertainment.”

Taking her hand, Arne tossed their plates in the bin and headed for the drinks tent. Coconut halves in hand, they strolled back toward the stage and joined Lili and Kevin on a large tartan picnic rug close to the front. Arne eased in behind Amelie and sat with her back against his shoulder.

Lights dimmed and a hush fell over the audience. Off stage, a conch sounded, long and low, eerie in the darkness. Thunderous drumming heralded the beginning of a happy and fast-paced celebration of Hawaiian dance and music. Amelie’s feet twitched, and she swayed against Arne’s chest. The music seemed familiar, the supple hands and hips speaking more eloquently than words ever could. How could she translate that into her painting?

Lili leaned over. “Now it’s Lani’s turn.” Pride in her daughter shone in her eyes as Lani glided to center stage and struck a pose. There was a moment of silence as the music paused, then drums and guitars joined in a rhythm as old as the islands. Slowly, Lani danced, grass skirt swaying as her feet stamped out the joy of the dance. She was no longer a nine-year-old child but the embodiment of Hawaii, proud, graceful in her expression of her love for her island home.

As she swirled to a finish, her family sprang to their feet in applause; Lani was the star of the moment. The image broke when she jumped from the stage into her father’s arms.

“You were wonderful, darling!” He spun her around.

“Oh, Lani, that was truly beautiful! I’m so glad I got to see you dance.” Amelie began planning the painting she would make of Lani dancing. Maybe she could give the original to Lili and Kevin as a thank you for having her to stay.

Families drifted away as the luau drew to a close.

“We should be going too.” Arne exerted a gentle pressure on her arm.

Lani bounced in between them, grabbing her hand and turning imploring eyes up to her uncle.

“Unca Arne, I want to drive home with you and Melie. Please? Please?”

Lili looked at Arne and Amelie for a moment and shook her head. “Perhaps tomorrow. You’ve had a big night.”

“Melie? Please? You stayed with me. Now it’s my turn. I want to stay in your cabin. Pleeease?” How could she resist Lani’s pleading eyes? She turned to check with Lili, who shrugged.

“She’ll talk your ear off. Now listen to me, young lady, you go straight to bed when Amelie tells you to.”

“Yes, Mom.” Lani tugged on her hand. “Let’s go, Melie.”

The cabin. She wasn’t supposed to stay alone. How could she have forgotten? She couldn’t let the child down, but she didn’t have the right to put her in danger either. “Umm, Jeff told me not to stay alone. Maybe we should have your sleepover another night, Lani.”

Arne sighed. “Come on. Amelie will have to make up your bed before it gets too late. And one for me on the couch–I can’t have two of my favorite women staying in that cabin alone.”

Lani squealed and clapped her hands.

“Yahoo! Melie and Unca Arne!”

They drove home with an excited Lani chattering away in the back seat. While Amelie made up the spare mattress, Arne let Lani make a good-night call to her parents on his cell phone, and kept her occupied with a glass of milk as he discussed possible treats for the morning.

Her excitement kept her going until the moment Arne carried her to bed in the corner of Amelie’s bedroom. Kissing her gently on the forehead, Arne tucked the sheet around her shoulders. “Good night, sweetheart.”

“Night, Unca Arne. Night, Melie.”

Tiptoeing from the room, Arne pulled the door closed behind them. “She’s so tired she’ll sleep soundly.”

“I’m glad no one else decided to sleep over. I haven’t any more bedding. Well, that’s your bed made.” She looked doubtfully at the sofa, sizing up his length with his rapidly shrinking bed. “Do you think you’ll be comfortable?”

He shrugged. “I’m used to hard sleeping places when I camp out on the islands. I’m sure this will be fine, thanks, Amelie.” He hesitated. “Are you tired or could we have a nightcap?”

“Of course. Cointreau, or would you prefer an Irish coffee?”

“Cointreau, thanks.”

By silent consent, they wandered onto the veranda with their drinks. Moonlight glimmered along a silver path and stars hung, huge and close in the clear sky. They sat in the double hammock, their bodies rocking against each other. Amelie rested her back against him, head on his shoulder. At this moment, she asked for nothing more.

Crickets rubbed their legs together in the hibiscus, and a night bird warbled nearby. Through the starlit night, the perfume of her favorite white ginger beguiled their senses. She would always associate it with Kauai and with Arne.

* * * *

“Amelie?”

Now was a good time for the conversation he wanted to have with her. He’d delayed it long enough if young Tom’s reaction to her tonight was anything to judge by. When Lani asked to sleep over at Amelie’s, he’d come close to overstepping the bounds and telling her no. But it wasn’t his place to, and now, he was glad of the excuse to stay in her cabin. Perhaps it would help her recover from the burglary by replacing the unpleasant associations with pleasant memories.

He dropped a kiss into her hair and smelled her jasmine shampoo. Jasmine, and the white ginger growing beside the veranda. Her favorite flower, she had said. The perfumes entwined as he closed his eyes and breathed them in.

She mumbled something.

“What did you say?”

He leaned around. Her eyes were closed, long lashes curled down over rose-tinted cheeks, her drink tipping dangerously toward his lap. Gently, he eased the glass from her hand and placed it on the cane table beside his own before carrying her to her bed.

As he lowered her slumbering form to the snowy sheets, she turned toward him, muttering in her sleep. He brushed her hair back from her cheek and lightly kissed her lips. Carefully, he unzipped her light top and eased it off her shoulders. When he eased her back onto her pillow, soft, rounded swells of honeyed breast pushed up over the top of her lacy bra. He groaned at the memory of the taste of her pert nipples in his mouth.

Steady, boy. But he couldn’t control his body’s response. He raked a hand through his hair. Why did she have to fall asleep now? Sure, he’d wanted to talk–and then make love to her.

Come on, man. Your niece is asleep in the corner. Get real!

Unzipping her skirt, he slid the soft material down her legs. Moonlight streamed through the window, silvering her skin. God, she was beautiful. And she was his soul mate.

After nearly losing her on the reef, he knew for certain he loved her. He would not, could not, live without her. Whatever it took he would do, even if he needed the patience of Job to rein in his desire until she recovered from her disastrous love affair. Until she saw only him.

He leaned over to kiss her softly and her arm curled up around his neck. Even in sleep, her body recognized him. Was that sexy little murmur his name? His resolution faltered as she held him.

She was sound asleep. He planned to be gone early, and Amelie’s queen size bed was entirely more appealing than the couch, especially when she mumbled softly. Don’t go…

“Your wish is my command.”

He lifted her arm from his neck then stripped off his shirt and trousers. Leaving them in a heap beside the bed, he slipped in beside Amelie, pulling the sheet over the two of them. Her back toward him, she fitted in to the length of his body perfectly. He rubbed his cheek over her hair, smelling jasmine again. He would associate that perfume with her forever.

He tucked her in closer, his arm along hers, his warmth enfolding her. “You are mine,” he whispered. “We belong together. I need nothing more. A`ohe mea `imi a ka maka.”

* * * *

In the early hours of the morning, Lani got up to go to the bathroom. Returning to her bed, she noticed Uncle Arne asleep with Amelie curled up in his arms.

“Oh goodie! I get to be bridesmaid!”