CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Thad Kingsley stood just off the runway, smoking a cigarette. It was forbidden, but there wasn’t anyone around of importance to report him. He took a deep drag and then crushed the butt out with the heel of his flight boot. He bent over to pocket the incriminating evidence and then looked overhead. A plane bearing the medical insignia of the Red Cross was about to land. The pilot touched down with ease. Thad felt like clappng. The guy, whoever he was, was loose as a goose.
Medical supplies? Usually they came by land in supply trucks. Curiosity got the better of him and he stood around until the bays opened. Two figures in army fatigues hopped out. The taller of the two advanced to one of the ground crew and held out his manifest. Thad watched as the sailor scratched his head and then shook it. Thad inched a little closer, in time to hear the big corporal say, “We got this delivery for some guy named Coleman, stationed here. Look, don’t give me any of this crap that you don’t know who the guy is. He’s some goddamn admiral, is who he is. If I told you where this stuff came from, you’d know he was an admiral. What say we get the lead out and tell Admiral Coleman his personal Red Cross plane full of food is here.” There was distaste on the man’s face.
“I’m telling you, I know every admiral on this base and we ain’t got no Coleman. We got a Coleman who’s a second looey. You want I should get him?”
“You better get somebody before this stuff goes bad. And get more ice. My orders. say a medical vehicle is to meet this plane and take the contents to . . . an undisclosed destination. This is all bullshit, sailor. Somebody’s screwing around. I just deliver. Go get this Coleman or get that truck, but do something.”
“I don’t have orders to do that,” the sailor complained. “And we don’t have an Admiral Coleman. So, you do whatever the hell you damn please. I go off duty in another three minutes.”
“Where’s this Coleman who’s a second looey hang out? The one who ain’t an admiral.”
“In that building over there. He’s a flight instructor. I’m officially off duty now. No more questions. Solve your own damn problems.”
“Close those goddamn bays till I figure out what the hell to do with this stuff,” the tall man shouted to his partner. “This heat will melt what ice is in there and whose ass do you think will be in a sling then?”
Thad stifled a laugh and turned his head.
“I need this. I really need this,” the corporal grumbled as he loped toward the building. Thad could have told him that Moss had taken his class down to the far end of the airstrip, but he didn’t. This was the best show he’d seen since joining the navy.
Two hours later; every admiral, captain, and commander on the base, it seemed, was on the airstrip to claim the contents of the Red Cross plane. “You got the password, you get the contents,” the belligerent corporal said tartly. “No password, the stuff rots on the plane. You see who signed this manifest?” Thad felt a bubble of laughter rumble in his chest at the awed looks.
Moss Coleman led his weary band of students down the airstrip. His eyes took in the scene and the Red Cross plane. Next to it was a van with the same insignia. He took a deep breath and started to whistle “Deep in the Heart of Texas.”
“That’s good enough for me. Sign here,” the corporal bellowed in Moss’s direction. “If that guy’s an admiral, I’ll eat the entire contents of this plane,” Thad heard him mutter.
Moss signed his name with a flourish. He turned and addressed the assembled brass. “Sirs, you’re all invited to a Texas barbecue at my house in the hills. I’ve taken the liberty of posting a small map and directions on the flight bulletin board.” He favored Thad with a heavy-lidded wink and ordered his flight group to about-face.
“Who the hell is that guy?” demanded a three-star with a forty-five-inch waist.
“Beats the hell out of me,” a commander said shortly. “All I know is I saw the signature on the manifest and I am not about to ask one question. I’m going to the barbecue and that’s all I know. Maybe we’ll all be mentioned in Stars and Stripes if we play our cards right.”
Thad had all he could do to keep a straight face. He walked over to the Red Cross truck, handed the driver a map, and bent through the window to give him Moss’s instructions.
The burly corporal stared at Thad a minute. “You son of a bitch, you been standing here for three hours and you knew all along whose stuff this was and where it was supposed to go and you never said a word. You navy punks stink. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t know the password and I can’t whistle. Would you have believed me?”
“Guess not. This stuff is like gold. Okay, sorry I blew up at you, but I still think you navy guys stink.”
“Oh, yeah?” Thad growled. “Buzz off, buddy. And I outrank you, so lets not bring it to a test. Move it! Corporal!”
“Yes sir!” the corporal said, smartly saluting. The minute Thad’s back was turned the smart salute was minus four fingers.
Billie watched the hectic preparations for the barbecue. She could tell. that Moss was irritated to the point where he was going to do or say something hurtful to the slow-moving Phillip. “Yes sir, Mr. Moss, sir, wikiwiki. Cow is big difference from pig. Pig is easy to roast. Cow much meat. Much more heavier. You have two cows. Much work. No help. You bring more help we move wikiwiki.”
“Steer. It’s a steer,” Moss said in exasperation. “More help is on the way. Let’s get this spit going and we can set up the other one on the beach. I don’t see what the big problem is. Roasting a pig is the same principle as a steer. The only difference is you put an apple in the pig’s mouth. You want an apple in this steer’s mouth, you have my permission.”
“Apple too small. Maybe pineapple. Stupid you no want luau. In Hawaii you have luau. We not make”—he searched his mind for the words Moss had repeated over and over to him—“Tukas barkut.”
“Texas barbecue.” Moss grimaced. Billie giggled behind her hand. Secretly she had to agree with Phillip. A luau would have been so much simpler.
It was three o’clock in the morning and Billie was tired. All she wanted to do was go to bed and sleep in Moss’s arms. But Moss, she knew, had no thoughts of sleep. He was going to supervise until it was time to leave for the base at five-thirty. How he could devote all his attention and energy to this ridiculous cookout was beyond her. Phillip was literally falling asleep on his feet, but Moss would show him no mercy. Once the pit was just right and the steer secure on the spit, Moss stood back to view his handiwork. “Pap would be proud of me,” Moss said with a clap of his hands. “Now all we have to do is get the other pit ready and then sit back. Billie, you took care of all the other food, didn’t you? Ice is coming first thing in the morning—I want that beer to be ice cold. Who’s shucking the corn? What about the sauce? Are you sure that gal in the kitchen knows what to do with it?”
“Trust me, darling. Everything is under control,” Billie said wearily.
“Did you get yourself a colorful muumuu?”
“I didn’t have the time. Don’t worry. I have something to wear.”
“Billie, I told you to get a muumuu. Or rather I told Thad to tell you. I wanted you to wear something bright and colorful with a hibiscus behind your ear. You’ve been lying around the house for days. How much trouble would it have been for you to go down to one of the shops in Waikiki and get one? Goddamn it, Billie, was that too much to ask?”
Billie felt like a whipped dog. Moss had never, ever spoken to her like this before. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Moss. I didn’t think it was all that important. I brought all these new clothes with me that I’ve never worn. They’re so much prettier . . . than a baggy muumuu.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Moss. I’ll get one this morning.”
Moss swung around. “You can’t go anywhere today. You have to stay here and keep your eye on things. I don’t want you to even think of leaving.”
“All right, Moss. I’m sorry. Please, don’t be angry. I don’t want us to argue. Our time is so short and I don’t want anything to spoil it.”
Moss’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, too. It’s just that you’ve always tried to please me. I rarely, if ever, tell you to do anything. I thought you would understand that it was important to me to have you wear a muumuu. I plan on having some pictures taken to send on to Pap and Mam. All the guys from the squadron are wearing floral shirts. Most of the brass is coming in island dress. You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb. The hostess standing out like a sore thumb is not something I wanted, Billie. Pap and Mam are going to be disappointed.
“Well, it’s too late now, so let’s forget it. Old Phillip here looks like he’s about wrung out, so you’re going to have to help me with the beach pit. You can do that, can’t you?”
At that point, Billie would have done anything to bring a smile to her husband’s face.
When Moss left the house at five-thirty, Billie was exhausted. Both longhorns were turning slowly on the spits. The tender beef would be ready for serving by ten o’clock that night. Wet sand and salt covered every inch of her skin. Her blond curls were matted and caked with salt spray. She sank to the sand and cried. Moss had only pecked her on the cheek. It was the kind of kiss, she thought, a man would give his mistress as he exited her apartment so no trace of perfume would stay with him. She felt wretched. Angry tears scalded her eyes. Moss hadn’t even responded when she’d said she loved him and warned him to drive carefully. He’d nodded curtly and climbed into the Jeep. He was angry with her. How could she have been so stupid?
Angry and frustrated, Billie kicked off her sandals and ran into the ocean. She struck out, beating at the waves as though they were the enemy. By the time she swam back to shore she could feel the tension finally leaving her shoulders.
Imperceptibly the slim shoulders squared. Moss wanted her attired in a muumuu. Moss would find her attired in a muumuu. Somehow, some way, she would find one. She shivered in the cool early-morning air. A smile touched her lips when she saw Phillip dozing on the lanai side of the house. She dried off and went in search of the housekeeper. When there was no answer to her quiet knock, she opened the door and stepped in. Again she squared her shoulders. She needed a little Coleman guts to do what she had to do. Gently she shook the plump woman’s shoulder. “Wake up, Rosa. I need your help. Big pilikia,” she said. “I need your help. You have to get up. Come, please. I know it’s early, but it’s going to be a busy day.” The plump woman glared at her and smiled at the same time. “Please, Rosa,” Billie pleaded.
Rosa rolled over, the bed springs creaking with her weight. “You wake me when sun high,” she muttered, pulling the sheet over her head.
“Rosa, you don’t understand. You have to get up, wikiwiki. Now. I need a muumuu. It’s so important to me. I’ll have to try to make one somehow. Is there a sewing machine here someplace?” Billie was so frustrated she wanted to stomp her feet and wail like a banshee. How could this woman sleep like this? How could she lie there and refuse to help her? Her happiness depended on getting a muumuu.
Phillip, perhaps he could help. Billie raced back to the lanai to rouse Rosa’s husband. She hated to wake the old man after he’d worked all night with Moss, but she had no other choice. She shook him awake, none too gently. A full fifteen minutes later Billie had Phillip’s less-than-interested attention. At least his eyes were open, she told herself. Quickly she explained her problem. Phillip snorted. “You tell she look like Queen Kamamalu. She get up and do what you say. Is only way. But you no mention word tattoo. She want. You listen good.”
“Yes, yes. I understand. Don’t say anything about a tattoo. Tell her she looks like Queen Kamamalu. That’s it? That’s all I have to do?” But Phillip was already asleep.
Billie rolled the queen’s name over and over on her tongue. She had to look up the famous lady in Miss Kamali’s library. Queen Kamamalu, Queen Kamamalu, Queen Kamamalu, she repeated to herself as she sprinted down the right wing of the house where Rosa slept. “Rosa, I had to come back and tell you something.” Billie’s voice was a bare whisper. “I simply couldn’t let another day go by without telling you that I think you look just like Queen . . . Queen Kamamalu. You really do.” Childishly she crossed her fingers for the little white lie she was being forced to tell. Maybe it wasn’t a lie at all. She uncrossed her fingers.
Rosa rolled over and sat upright. “You think so, Missy Billie? Nobody believe but Phillip. Need tattoo here and here and here,” Rosa said, jabbing at herself. “Queen Kamamalu much tattoo. Phillip say no.”
Billie grimaced. “husbands, Phillip, loco”. Billie pointed to her head. She would do anything, say anything to get the housekeeper moving.
“You smart wahine. Smart haole wahine.” Rosa smiled as she struggled from the bed.
“Now this is my problem. I need a muumuu,” Billie said, enunciating each word carefully. “I thought maybe we could make one, or at least try to put together something. Is there a sewing machine here?” At Rosa’s perplexed look, Billie made motions with her fingers as though she were threading a needle and then weaving it in and out of the hem of her shorts. Rosa smiled and said, “No. No sew. No ricky-ticky sew.”
Tears of frustration gathered in Billie’s eyes. “I need a muumuu, Rosa. My kane, my ipo won’t like me.” She felt stupid when she made kissing motions with her lips to show Rosa how serious the situation was. Billie never knew if it was the words that meant man and sweetheart or her tears that finally moved the housekeeper from her bed.
“Come duh udder room.” Billie followed Rosa down the hall to what must have been Ester Kamali’s bedroom. Rosa stood at moment as though undecided. A second glance at Billie’s tear-filled eyes seemed to convince her to open the door. Billie advanced and then backed up a step. She knew this had to be the most beautiful room she had ever seen. Everything was pearl white or a light moss green, even the wicker. Splashes of yellow as golden as sunshine added just the right touch. Billie drew in her breath. It was a woman’s room. She didn’t know why, but she had the feeling no man had ever set foot across the threshold. It was too perfect. It smelled new, never used. Billie raised her hands palms up to show she didn’t understand.
“Missy Ester’s ipo died. No marry udder man, ever.”
Ester Kamali’s sweetheart died. How sad. Billie felt as if she were trespassing. The feeling was so strong she turned to leave, the tears running down her cheeks. Here she was worried about a simple thing like a muumuu and her kind, unseen hostess had lost her sweetheart. Rosa moved quickly and drew Billie back into the room. “Missy Ester go way. Not come back many, many years. No udder man for missy. You come.”
Dabbing at her tear-streaked face, Billie followed Rosa into a small dressing room off the bedroom, watching as she reached up to one of the shelves for a porcelain jar and withdrew a small brass key. “You see, wikiwiki.” Rosa blessed herself and dropped to her knees before a large wicker chest beneath the last shelf. Honey-colored hands were gentle with the mounds of tissue paper that lay inside, then they probed the depths of the chest. Rosa seemed to know what she was searching for by touch rather than sight. When her plump hands found it, she withdrew and held up a rainbow of multicolored silk. “For you, Missy Billie. No udder wahine wear. Missy Ester say hokay.”
Billie was speechless. She was selfish enough to want to reach out for the dress but woman enough to know what the beautiful silk had meant to Ester Kamali. Tears welled in her eyes again. She shook her head at Rosa and backed off a step.
“You take. You wear. Missy Ester want you kane see you in her dress. You take. Is hokay. Is much hokay. Take.”
Almost without intending to, Billie reached out for the vibrant silk. It was just what Moss would have expected her to buy for herself. She held the flowing gown to her shoulders. Rosa’s jet-black eyes glowed with pleasure. “Rosa, are you sure?” Billie wanted the dress more than anything in the world. She’d do anything to be able to wear it. Anything to erase Moss’s displeasure. “I’ll take care of it. I promise. I won’t go near food. I won’t even take a drink while I’m wearing it.”
Rosa frowned. What was the wahine talking about? When Billie smiled, Rosa relaxed. “Missy Ester much happy that the dress make wahine happy.”
Billie carried the silk gown back to her room and laid it on the bed. Moss was going to be pleased. She knew he wouldn’t ask questions. He would simply accept the fact that she had somehow found a way to do as he wished.
Billie showered and washed and set her hair. She let the warm shower run, creating steam in the bathroom so that the silk, hung from a scented, padded hanger, would be free of wrinkles. There was no way she was going to lay an iron to this gorgeous creation.
When she made her way to the kitchen, Rosa and Phillip, along with assorted cousins, nephews, and nieces, were busily preparing food for the barbecue. The food that had arrived on the medical transport was off to one side. Rosa and a bubbly niece were making Hawaiian dishes that would be served separately. Already there were huge platters of lau lau, a mixture of fish, pork, and taro leaves wrapped and steamed in a Ti leaf. Billie selected one and popped it in her mouth. “Delicious.” She laughed and took a second. Baking ulu and opihi were sending off delicious aromas. This would be the first time Billie would taste breadfruit and limpets. There were small pots of purple poi, made from crushed taro root. Billie wrinkled her nose. The young girls laughed as they dipped their fingers in the poi and licked them. Even if it was the traditional Hawaiian dish, Billie decided to pass on it. Instead her eyes were drawn to the containers of barbecue sauce and huge sacks of corn. She had a feeling she was going to be the one to shuck the yellow ears. Phillip made motions to her to indicate the beer kegs were on ice. That was good. The two cases of bourbon would go out on the terrace, where Moss was going to set up a bar. Two gunnysacks full of Idaho baking potatoes were being inspected by Phillip. He had his instructions as to baking them on the beach, next to the steers. “Much time left for totes.”
“Potatoes,” Billie corrected him.
“What I said, totes.”
Butter was being iced and salt by the pound was being poured into heavy ceramic shakers. Cartons of heavy paper napkins were opened and a child of ten or so was busily folding them into intricate squares. From what she could see there were at least six red-and-white-checkered tablecloths. Seth did all this! she thought in amazement. Surely he’d forgotten something. Billie poked and pried into the cartons and sacks. Her eyes were wide when she extracted two full boxes of toothpicks and three one-pound cans of peppermint candies. For indigestion, she supposed. She rummaged more and found cabbage for coleslaw and six graters. God! Dressing was in the icebox in gallon jars. All this food, all the way from Texas. It was unbelievable. When her search was finished she had to admit that there was no fault to be found. Seth had thought of everything, right down to the huge cans of baked beans.
“Phillip, if you or one of the boys will carry the corn out to the monkeypod tree, I’ll clean it. I’ll need a basket or something to put it in.” She had barely finished speaking when a tall youth hefted one of the sacks and slung a wicker basket over his shoulder. He favored her with a dazzling smile as he motioned for her to go ahead of him.
Billie crossed the terrace and smiled at a cherub brigade as they deftly ran thread through plumeria blossoms for welcome leis. Moss had thought of everything, too. It might be a Texas barbecue, but he was deferring in small ways to the beautiful Hawaiian customs.
As Billie sat under the tree shucking the corn she realized how far away from home she really was. The ripe yellow silk lay like a carpet at her feet and the lime-green leaves piled up. The lemony-colored corn was beautiful, the kernels in perfect rows. It was a pity she wouldn’t be able to taste it. She was already regretting the promise she’d made not to eat while wearing Ester Kamali’s dress. After the guests had gone she would take the dress off and eat some of the leftovers.
Two hours later, Billie massaged her neck and turned the balance of the shucking over to one of the boys. He wrinkled his nose at the pile of corn but fell to his task at a sharp command from his Uncle Phillip. Time to see how the sourdough bread was coming along.
Satisfied with the flour-strewn kitchen and dark mutterings from Rosa, Billie made a hasty retreat to the beach, where she went for a long solitary walk. At first her thoughts were lazy and dream-filled, but they intensified as the swells from the ocean whipped onto the sandy shore. All this commotion, all this fuss, all this trouble for a barbecue: what was Moss thinking of? And Seth, sending all the food from half a world away? She didn’t think she would ever understand the Colemans. Moss’s attitude and his sharp words to her this morning had hurt. Deeply. Secretly, Billie admitted to herself that she was jealous of the evening’s plans. Why wasn’t Moss satisfied just being with her? The two of them. The days were to be treasured now. She guessed the Enterprise was about ready to leave. Repairs were ahead of schedule. Who knew when they would see each other again? Learn to enjoy what you have, Thad had said. She must keep that in mind at all times.
This party was going to go into the early hours of the morning. Moss had to be back on base for his weekend restriction. That meant the cleaning-up chores after the party would fall to her and Rosa.
Billie sighed as she looked out across the waves. She should be delirious with happiness. Here she was in an island paradise with the man she loved with all her heart, a beautiful gown to wear for the evening, and she was feeling sorry for herself. Top brass, beautiful women . . . the party atmosphere should be intoxicating. Why did she feel so miserable, so let down? Was it fatigue from having worked through the night at Moss’s side? No, she’d been up all night on many occasions and hadn’t felt like this. Soul weary? Perhaps. Disappointed? More true than not. Was it too much to expect to spend every moment possible with her husband?
In just a few hours Moss would be home. At least they would have some time alone before their guests arrived. Unless of course Moss took it into his head to supervise every little detail. She would go to her room and take the bobby pins out of her hair. Maybe she could fix herself a glass of lemonade and sit in the sun on the balcony. A good book or magazine would help her wile away the time. But before she did anything she had to check both barbecue pits and make a second inspection of conditions in the kitchen. It was almost laughable. What did she know about roasting steers?
Phillip clucked his tongue and made clapping sounds with his hands to show his disapproval as Billie picked up the smoking banyan leaves. She fared no better when she peeked into the kitchen. It looked like utter chaos to her. There were pans and platters of food everywhere. Flour and something that looked like a pot of melting glue stood on the chrome kitchen table. Later, she must ask what it was.
The ornamental clock on the desk in the living room chimed six o’clock. Billie checked the gold circle on her wrist. Five minutes past. She was resetting her watch when she heard the Jeep coming up the road. She ran to the wide double doors and flung them open. Her excited welcome died in her throat. In the Jeep with Moss sat Thad Kingsley and three other friends. She forced a smile to her lips and walked out to the driveway. “Look, honey,” said Moss. “I brought help. Come on in, guys, and Billie will fix you a drink. I want to check out the pits. Phillip is a grand old guy, but he isn’t up on longhorn beef. Did you check on things during the day, Billie?”
How excited he was. How happy he looked. This was all so important to him. How could she even think of spoiling things? She was so glad now that she had accepted Miss Kamali’s dress. “Yes, Moss, I did. Everything looked fine to me. Don’t even consider going into the kitchen. Rosa will box your ears.”
Thad and the others laughed. Moss loped toward the beach and Billie led the way to the outside terrace. She offered drinks and made small talk.
Twenty minutes later Moss was back and mixing his own drink. He settled down near his friends and conversation ran to the events of the day. Billie looked from one man to the other. Only Thad’s eyes met hers in silent apology. She excused herself and knew no one was aware that she was leaving, except possibly Thad.
Billie filled the tub for a long, leisurely soak. She added a liberal dose of bath salts and watched the water foam. It was almost as frothy as the Pacific. She wouldn’t cry, she just wouldn’t. Sometimes this new married life stunned her. Moss probably didn’t even remember that he had been sharp with her this morning. He was probably unaware how hurt she had been. It was time to shake this depression, time to get dressed and join Moss and his friends. Their guests would be arriving shortly.
When Billie made her entrance an hour later on the lanai all five officers jumped to their feet, but it was to Moss that Billie’s eyes went. There was approval and pride in his glance and smile. The long sarong-like gown displayed her smooth tan shoulders and high rounded breasts, the side slit skirt allowing peek-a-boo glimpses of an elegant length of leg.
“You look lovely, Billie,” Thad said sincerely. The other three pilots echoed Thad’s approval. Moss kissed her lightly on the cheek and put his arm around her shoulder. Billie wanted to lean into him, to snuggle against him, but she held her emotions in check. She smiled warmly and settled herself on one of the wicker chairs. The silk crept up around her ankles, exposing a scandalously sexy high-heeled shoe that was nothing more than straps. Thad Kingsley swallowed hard. He had never seen anything so provocative as that gently swinging foot.
“I think I’ll take a walk to the beach and check out your longhorns,” he said. “If I were you, Coleman, I’d get the lead out and get dressed. You are the host and the brass should be arriving any minute now.”
“Good thinking. I won’t be long. Billie, refill the guys’ drinks.”
“We can do it, Moss. Let your wife rest. We enjoy sitting here looking at her.”
“Suit yourself. I told you guys to bring dates.”
“Surely you jest. When I party I party. All the way. You can’t let go with the top brass milling about. Don’t worry about us. We’re here to eat all that beef you’ve been jawing about.”
Moss shrugged. The guys were right. Jesus, Billie was going to knock the socks right off the brass. And their wives were going to do some double takes. He’d never seen her look so beautiful. The guys were impressed. Thad had looked like a fish out of water for a minute. The party was going to be a success. He could feel it.
By nine-thirty the last guest had arrived. Moss drew Billie aside as they surveyed the scene on the terraces and lanai. “Did you ever notice that all generals’ and admirals’ wives are old and wrinkled? Look at that one over there.” Billie looked in the direction Moss was discreetly pointing. The woman’s face was leathery and wrinkled, and the skin on her neck hung in unattractive folds. “So help me, if you ever get to looking like that, I’ll divorce you.”
“Are you going to be an admiral someday, Moss?” Billie teased, enjoying the few moments of intimacy.
“Not me, but Thad is. I’d bet Sunbridge on it.”
Billie giggled. “Do you think he’ll have a wife like one of these women?”
“God, I hope not. Thad’s pretty selective. What kind of shoes is the general’s wife wearing?” Moss asked curiously.
Billie peered straight ahead in the yellow lantern light. She giggled again. “Serviceable. Maybe she has a foot problem. But we’re being unkind.”
“The hell you say, Mrs. Coleman. That lady is a living, breathing bitch. She controls the officers’ wives with an iron hand. The general doesn’t make a move until he checks with her. It’s common knowledge on the base. I’m glad you aren’t staying there, Billie.” Moss’s arms tightened protectively around his wife’s shoulders. This time, Billie leaned against him and whispered. He bent down to hear and grinned. “I’ll take you up on. that later. We better start to circulate, honey. Phillip is going to start carving soon and we have to head the line. I’ll meet you on the lanai in, say, twenty minutes.”
Billie maneuvered through the milling crowds, stopping to speak to one person and then another. The party was a success.
The moment Phillip’s relatives struck the first chord of “Deep in the Heart of Texas” on their ukuleles, Billie made her way to the lanai to meet Moss.
Moss held up both hands as a signal for quiet. “Hele mai ai!” he shouted. “Come and eat!”
The small orchestra split up, half going to the area beneath the monkeypod tree and the other half to the beach. They strummed softly while native girls in their grass skirts swayed to the music. More than one man’s, eyes was on the girls instead of his beef. Billie felt smug. Moss had eyes for no one save herself.
“We’ll have to do this again sometime, old buddy,” Thad said with a slight slur to his words.
“The next time you can do it.” Moss grinned. “What do you New Englanders do for a bash?”
“We have fish fries. And chowders. Stick-to-your-ribs chowder. Did I tell you you are the most beautiful woman here?” Thad said gallantly to Billie as he tried for a low, sweeping bow.
“Three times,” Moss said, grinning. “You’re getting crocked, Thad.”
“Yeaaahhh. Billie, would you play the piano for me? That tinny music is getting to me. I have a yen for some good old U.S. of A. music. Old man, can your wife play me a couple of tunes?” Thad asked Moss.
“I don’t see why not. It’s up to Billie. Billie?”
“Of course. What would you like to hear?”
“Something with some beat. Something with heart. A little honky-tonk, maybe some boogie-woogie. Is that a tall order?”
“Not too tall. I think I can manage. Come along, Lieutenant.”
Billie settled herself at the keyboard. She flexed her fingers and tested out the keys. The baby grand was a magnificent instrument.
Billie was lost in the music, unaware of Thad’s intent gaze as he leaned over the piano. She finished the last chord of “When the Lights Come On Again All Over the World” and swung into “The White Cliffs of Dover.” “Harbor Lights” followed and then “Always.”
“Slide over, Billie,” Thad ordered. Billie obeyed and was stunned when Thad ran his long fingers the length of the keyboard. “Let’s have a duet. Name your choice.”
“I didn’t know you played, Thad.”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. Come on, let’s tickle these ivories.”
Billie laughed. “Name it, Lieutenant, and I’ll keep up with you.”
When the last guest had left, Moss took stock. “It was a roaring success, honey. We really did ourselves up proud. Mac took some great pictures. I’m not even going to try to get them developed over here. I’ll send them straight on to Pap. Listen, honey, Thad, Mac, and Jack have to get back. If they take the Jeep, I won’t have any way to get to the base in the morning, so I’m going along with them. I’ll be back Monday night.”
“Moss, it’s only three A.M. You cold get a few hours’ sleep and drive the Ford in the morning.” If he left now, she wouldn’t see him for another three days. “Moss, please.”
“It’s best this way, honey. By the time I get back, I can shower and change and write to Pap. He’s going to want to know how things went. I’ll see you Monday night. By the way, Mrs. Coleman, did I tell you how beautiful you looked this evening? Hey, are those tears? Billie, Coleman women don’t cry over something as silly as this. Come on now, give me a smile.” Billie’s effort was hardly more than a grimace, but it seemed to satisfy Moss.
“Come on, you flight jockeys, move it! Who’s almost sober?”
“I am,” Thad said quietly. “Haven’t had a drink in hours. I’ll drive. Moss, if you don’t want to drive the Ford down in the morning, I’ll take it now and you can take the Jeep. You look done in. Why don’t you catch a few hours’ sleep?”
Moss shook his head. “We’ll do it my way.”
Billie’s eyes thanked Thad for what he was trying to do for her. “Good night, gentlemen,” she said quietly. “Thad, drive carefully. Moss, I’ll see you on Monday.” Without another word, she turned and headed for the bedroom, tears spilling down her cheeks. She’d been so sure Moss would stay.
Thad wanted to push his fist through Moss’s smiling face. The ride back to the base was silent, heavy with emotions and confused loyalties. Moss was his friend, his best friend, Thad reminded himself. He would try never to forget it.