Joe Burke's Last Stand Part 11

"'You're not going to believe this, Mike,' I said. I told him about the six foot bird cage in the atrium of that Kahala beach house and the little girl who stuck to her story."

Alison bounced in her chair and clapped. "Good for her!"

"That was twenty years ago," Joe said. "Mike got caught. The girl probably has her own children now."

"You must tell her," Alison said. "She should know. The truth is important." Alison had a point. Joe had felt guilty about that before.

"The house is still there," he said. "Maybe I'll see what happened to them."

"If they've moved, maybe you could find out where and send a letter."

"Aha," Joe said as dinner arrived. He had gone crazy and ordered steak.

Alison bent over her scampi and inhaled deeply. "Garlic," she sighed.

"Garlic!" They touched gla.s.ses again. Dark ruby light circled and glanced through his Cabernet Sauvignon. By dessert, Alison had told him that she was from a small town near Madison, Wisconsin, that her father had been an inventor, that her mother was still alive, aging and in need of care.

"My father was hurt in an accident at work. I had to take care of him when I wasn't in school. My mother always had other jobs. He was strict. I couldn't go out like the other girls. I was taken in by our church; they gave me a scholarship."

"So you went from home to the church life--and you never got married?"

"Never met anyone willing, Joe. Anyone right, that is." She bent over the table and lowered her voice. "I'm a virgin--can you imagine?"

"What!?" A head turned in their direction and Joe lowered his voice to match hers. "How on earth?"

"I believe in the sacrament of marriage, Joe. Technically, I'm not a virgin because of something that happened a long time ago. But, actually, I am one." He blinked several times as she continued, "I had a boyfriend for five years. He was divorced. He was afraid of commitment, Joe." Joe took a large swallow of wine. "We used to fool around. Nothing below the waist," she added.

"Gurmpph." He cleared his throat. No one seemed to be paying any attention. Alison was still leaning forward. His eyes were fixed on her swelling breast and the curve of black lace that rose and disappeared behind her blue-green blouse. "Coffee," Joe said. "We must have coffee."

It had grown dark gradually, and Alison had her wish to look at city lights. Honolulu lies on a narrow plain between the mountains and the Pacific. Sharp ridges descend toward the water. The ridge faces have been developed; at night they are like jeweled fingers, reaching high, separated by vast darknesses. "Beautiful." Joe swept his hand toward the window.

"Even nicer than I hoped," Alison said. "I didn't mean to embarra.s.s you, Joe."

"I'm not embarra.s.sed. It seems like a waste, that's all."

"That's sweet." They had coffee and took a cab to her apartment, not far from the university. "Was it so bad being normal?" she asked.

"No," he admitted. She leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

He felt like Uncle, thanked for a birthday present.

"There," she said and got out. "Night, Joe."

"Goodnight, Alison." The cab driver remained silent. "Oh, yeah," Joe said. "Liholiho Street."

8

The young beauty with the makeup was not at the Wailana the next morning. Joe ate a waffle and stared across the counter at the seat where she had been. As he reached for his notebook, he realized why she was sad. She was a perfect twenty-two, frozen in time; she would never be younger, more beautiful, or more beautifully made up to answer a man's fantasy. And it wasn't enough. We must begin again, he said to himself, identifying with her--begin again without shame. Sometimes you have to start over, even go backwards, in order to go forward in a different direction.

He wrote the words down and nodded. It was a poem. He imagined someone reading his words, someone he didn't know. It was a good feeling. Lost mail--that's what a poem is, he decided. He made up his mind to submit it to the university literary publication. He had tried before to be published, without success, but he'd not put much effort into it. He'd written for himself, really.

He walked home, prepared the lost mail, and left a message for Mo, "Let's have lunch."

An e-mail from Kate was waiting for him.

"Dad, the big step! Jackson and I have decided to get married. We've rented a house on San Juan Island to be a central gathering place, the week of Sept. 14-21. The ceremony will be Sat.u.r.day, outside at the county park, followed by a dinner at the yacht club. I'm hoping everyone will come--Mom, of course, and Ingrid and Maxie. The island is beautiful. I'm making a packet with maps, ferry schedules, and info on places to stay. More later. I wanted to tell you right away. Love, Kate."

"Big news, Batman!" It was a good marriage, but nothing would ever be the same. Sally and Ingrid on the same island? Yikes. He didn't have anything to wear.

Joe reeled around the apartment and then e-mailed back, "Congratulations! I'll be there. More congratulations. Love, Dad." He pulled an electric broom from the back of his closet and began pushing it back and forth across the carpet. Jackson was a good fellow. Kate was happy. He had never met Jackson's parents. He was going to have to be respectable. Where was San Juan Island, anyway? Reservations? The last dust crumb had disappeared into the electric broom when Joe stopped pacing. He put the vacuum cleaner away and decided that the sensible thing to do was to take a walk.

The phone rang.

"Hi, Joe."

"Uh, hey there." It was Alison.

"I enjoyed dinner last night."

"So did I."

"Joe, would you come exploring with me? I'm going to rent a car and see some of the island."

"Well, sure," he said, "but I've got a lot to do."

"Me, too. It will be fun, Joe. I'm thinking about the end of the week, maybe Friday or Sat.u.r.day."

"Sat.u.r.day would be good," he said, pushing it ahead.

"I'll pick you up at ten. How do I get to your place?" He gave directions and then suggested that she meet him at Tops instead.

"That way I can get some writing done early, and it won't matter if you get held up."

"Tops--near the Ilikai?"

"Yes."

"O.K. Ten o'clock. Joe, have you written down the story about the girl and the cat burglar?"

"No."

"It's your responsibility,"Alison said.

"Mmm. My daughter's getting married! I just heard."

"Wonderful! You can tell me all about it, Sat.u.r.day. What kind of car do you like to drive?"