Island Promises: Hawaiian Holiday / Hawaiian Reunion / Hawaiian Retreat

“I’m renting a car. I can give you a lift to the resort.”

“Nick and Cara have arranged for a wheelchair taxi to pick us up. Thank you, though.”

“I’ll see you there, then. Girls, aloha.” He made the hang loose sign.

“What does that mean?” Grace asked.

“That’s called a shaka. It’s a Hawaiian greeting that kind of means hello, howzit, thank you, aloha. All that stuff.”

Sarah caught on immediately and did the same gesture back to him, twisting her wrist back and forth with delight, but Grace struggled with the fine motor skills necessary to stick her thumb and pinkie out at the same time.

“That’s not right,” Sarah told her sister, and Grace huffed a little with frustration.

“Here, like this.” The big, rangy cop bent down to her level and took her little hand in his to help her make the gesture.

“There it is. That’s it. Perfect.”

She beamed at him, and he grinned right back and kissed her on the forehead. As Megan watched them, something warmer and sweeter than the Hawaiian breeze settled in her chest.

Off the airplane, the girls seemed to gain a fresh wave of energy. All the way to the resort, they chattered excitedly with their driver, Pete, a big, warm native Hawaiian who was delighted to show them around his beautiful island.

“There it is! There’s the ocean,” Sarah said every time the road to their resort passed through the dense trees that opened up to that impossibly blue water.

The resort was beautiful, lushly landscaped with fringy palm trees, banyans with tangled, twisting trunks, bright explosions of colorful flowers. Megan had never seen anything as exquisite.

“You girls have a great time, now,” Pete ordered them after he helped them out and handed their bags to a waiting bellhop. “I’m gonna be checking to make sure you are.”

Sarah and Grace giggled at him and did their best shakas, which earned a wide grin and the gesture in return.

“Shootz. That means I’ll see you lateh.”

“Shootz,” both girls chorused at him with delight.

Megan had a feeling they were going to have a very interesting vocabulary before this trip was over.

By the time they checked in with the helpful hotel staff and caught a small wheelchair-adapted golf cart to their cabana, her own words failed her.

“Wow! The ocean is in our front yard!” Sarah exclaimed.

The ocean was their front yard. Their small cabana was perhaps twenty-five feet from the surf, with a wide lanai featuring a plump upholstered wicker settee and two chairs overlooking the water.

Inside, the cabana had two bedrooms, a small living area and kitchen, and a comfortable, wheelchair-accessible bathroom. The cabana’s location and size were luxuries she was completely unaccustomed to.

She needed to unpack, but while the girls were exploring their temporary home, she leaned against the lanai railing and watched baby breakers ripple to the shore. She was aware of a vague sadness, a melancholy emptiness. The cabana was beautifully romantic, the sort of place meant to be shared with someone special.

“It’s so blue,” Sarah exclaimed softly from beside her, and Megan forced herself to shake off her mood. She had someone special to share it with. Two incredible daughters. She was truly blessed.

“I want to swim in the ocean, Mom. Can we?” Grace asked.

“Yes!” Sarah exclaimed. “Can we go now?”

“Don’t you want something to eat first?” she suggested. “We can order room service and swim after an early dinner.”

“No. Swim now, then eat!” Grace said.

In that moment, Megan resolved to savor this. She might feel out of place watching her ex-husband marry the love of his life, but they were here in one of the most beautiful places on earth, with a vast ocean in front of them. She wouldn’t waste a moment feeling sorry about all she didn’t have. Instead, she would focus on her many gifts, starting with these two wonderful daughters.

“Let’s do it,” she said, gripping two hands in hers. “I think I know just where to find our suits.”

CHAPTER THREE

YEAH. HE COULD get used to this.

After settling into his cabana, Shane grabbed one of the cold beers in the refrigerator—thoughtfully arranged by his sister, he guessed, and headed out to his oceanfront lanai.

He stretched his legs, which still felt achy and cramped after a long day of trying to cram six feet, two inches of height into a space obviously designed for juvenile pygmies.

He took a sip of beer just as his sister walked up the steps.

“Hey there,” he said. “How’s my favorite bridezilla?”

She made a face. “Admit it. I’ve been amazingly bridezilla-free.”

“You have,” he agreed. “You picked a great place. The resort is beautiful.”

She smiled. “Better than the pictures online. All the reviews were right.”

“Don’t you have wedding plans to arrange?”

“Not right this minute. I came to check on you. I’m sorry I didn’t have much time to spend with you on the flight.”

“That’s what happens when you fly first class. No time for the little people.”

He gave a mock wince when she socked him and she gasped. “Oh! I forgot all about your shoulder injury. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Cara had always been too tenderhearted for her own good.

“Not at all,” he answered. “I was shot in the other arm.”

His teasing earned him another smack on the same shoulder, which made him smile.

She didn’t smile back. Instead, she sank down beside him on the rather uncomfortable settee, her features troubled. She twisted her fingers together on her lap and gazed out at the lovely setting, tension radiating from her.

He waited for her to tell him why she had really come. When she didn’t say anything, he finally spoke up. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

She glanced at him, her eyes a murky green. “Have you heard from Dad?”

He and their father tended to avoid each other whenever humanly possible.