Summer Wind

I loved my work and I loved Angie. I was at the stage of thinking about looking for an engagement ring and just the right, the perfect time and setting to offer it to her ... sure of her forever yes response. Then, one late afternoon while I was walking along the beach with Angie, we stopped as the breeze blew her hair around her face. I laughed and with my hands held the hair away and leaned in to kiss her—and the summer wind blew her away, and out of my life.

She turned away from my kiss and said, "Jerry, I have to go. I'm sorry, but I have to go."

She ran up the beach, away from me. I started to follow, but stunned, I held back and sat on the sand, not caring that the surf was washing up on my slacks. I thought back to a couple weeks ago when I saw a boy of around nine or ten flying one of those Chinese Box kites. A strong gust of wind had broken the string and he was heartbroken as it headed off onto the sky. Now I understood the depth of sadness I'd seen on his face. The summer wind had torn my heart out, to flutter away, out over the ocean.

I called her a couple of times to no answer. Finally, about nine that night, I went over to the house she was staying at. I'd met her roommates when I helped to move in. Julie, the blond, answered the door, and in response to my question, she replied: "I don't know, Jerry. She's gone now; she had a flight about an hour ago to San Francisco. Marty, the other roommate you met, said something about her resigning her commission."

I called Marty and Julie over the next several weeks, with no results. No one at Tripler would even talk to me. Angie had mentioned she lived south of San Francisco, but had never mentioned the city. Her dad had died and her mom worked at the San Francisco Airport, but I didn't know her name or of the company she worked for.

I knew it wouldn't do any good but I sent a letter both to the VA in Washington and to Tripler Hospital. Neither elicited any sort of response. One thing I liked about the government was that if you had no expectations of them they would always give you exactly what you expected: nothing.

Time went by, as it inexorably does, marching always forward, never back. Never giving one a chance to fix ones mistakes or to keep from losing a love lost. I worked, got the job done. I found myself going to the bar at the Ala Moana drinking the occasional scotch, smiling to myself of how I'd got my lighter fixed as quickly as possible. It now worked like a champ but contrarily I found myself smoking a lot less. I would still keep flipping the lighter, just to watch the flame as if it held some kind of answer.

Evenings I would sit at a small table on the beach, just existing as a lonely man does. The soft summer breezes whispered the occasional bon mot in my ear—teasing the now too long hair at the back of my neck with a puff of gentleness. I tried not to think overmuch of Angie, but of course this only made me think of her more. I'd given up trying to figure out what had happened, was it my fault, just one of those things, just ... but it didn't really matter. Mostly I'd wonder where she was, how she was, was she okay; I counted one night and came up with over four hundred ways of wondering about her life.

One evening in the afterglow of sunset, that special time of day when peace floats settles gently on the earth, I saw Martha Wells née Canova walking by. Of course, it wasn't her and I knew that at once; too tall, too thin, but a lot of similarities. I realized with a start that I had not thought of her in a long time. That made me smile. Hoping she was satisfied with her lot I quickly, with no regrets, dismissed her from my mind; put her in that certain group of memory cells where we stash the events of the past that would best be forgotten.

Chapter Three—Life Continues

Summer passed, although that is a bit of a misnomer. It's more like a dry season and a rainy season, even though the "rainy" isn't bad; it is after all, still paradise. My one-year commitment was coming to an end so I had to decide what to do, to stay in Hawaii or not. There was this fantasy I had, I'd be sitting while sipping on well-aged single malt and watching the ebb and flow of life marching resolutely up and down the beach.

I'd see a person, ambling slowly along as people tend to do on the beach. My eyes would pick out in the gathering gloom a woman, looking familiar. Closer she would come; bending over to look at a shell, maybe wading in the water as one of the waves gave up its life to tickle the toes of a pretty woman. At that point I would realize she was quite pretty and... and my heart would flutter as she tossed her hair and started walking over to me. But always it was what it was, a fantasy leaving a sour taste. Each time this happened I would go inside and try to find something to distract me.

In the end I realized there was no chance of a fairy tale reappearance of Angie. I called my boss and told him I needed to take a few months off before my next assignment. He understood, probably thinking I still hadn't got over Martha.

Packing what little I had and sent in a final report to Tim, my manager. I called him just before I left to see if he had any final questions. "Tim, I'll be up at my cabin, no phone or mail, as you remember. If you need to get hold of me, send a letter to General Deliver in Payson."

Two days later I was back at my cabin. It was a nice place, not large but a well-made log cabin. The front half was a kitchen with running water thanks to a nicely engineered mix of a spring, pipes, storage tank. The house was on the side of a slope with a place to park on a flat in front of, and slightly below the cabin. My great-grandfather built the house, his son did the piping, but the water just drained down the side of the hill.

My dad had done some extensive remodeling, paneling the inside and putting on a new copper roof. I had added a tank next to the parking area and reworked the pipes to drain into the tank. When needed a truck would come in and drain the waste water. There had been an outhouse for many years, rebuilt every so often as needed. The other thing I had done was install a drum privy. It's like an outhouse but comes with a removable fiberglass storage tank. The entire setup comes as a unit and the removable tank is on a small trailer so it can be towed out.

Once a year or so I would haul it to the dealer and I just had to unhook the trailer and hook up to one with an empty tank. It wasn't cheap but it sure was convenient. A forest service buddy told me about this. He said they used them frequently in remote spots. They can even be helicoptered in and out.

I took a few days to clean up the place and lay about enjoying the beauty of the forest. I found I had changed and was no longer interested in hunting, except once in a while when I hadn't had a chance to get into town and buy meat. I started on long hikes, once or twice staying overnight so I could try more trails. Climbing up and down the Mogollon Rim I quickly got in shape. It hadn't come to me that I'd gained a couple inches on my waist to go with about twelve more pounds. With the hikes and general maintenance, chopping wood for my fires (didn't want to fool around with propane) and clearing brush to lessen any fire danger I was back the weight I'd started the Army at and seemed to be getting a stringy, wiry body.

It was lonely, have to admit that. But it was so beautiful and serene I seemed about as happy as I was ever going to get. The agreement with Tim had been for six months but after three I started feeling antsy. A few days after I realized this I was in Payson stocking the larder and found a letter from my boss.

The gist of it was that we had gotten several major new contracts and there was a requirement that there be an on-site support manager. If I was interested in going back to Pearl Harbor he would give me a promotion, a twenty-five per cent salary increase, put me on the management incentive plan, a healthy cash bonus and a more than generous allowance to buy a house. I'd have six maintenance guys to do the equipment servicing and two software support types. If I agreed it was a good idea, he would also include a software developer and a QA person to help identify problems quickly. It seems there were some big incentives—both positive and negative.

I looked out the window of the grocery store/post office and instantly an image of bikini-Angie came to me, then the dampness of my eyes, blurred the image. I knew at once I had to go back and resolve my feelings. I went over the restaurant and had a cold beer in the deserted place while I thought things out. Making a decision which I knew wasn't as sudden as it seemed, I went back to the store and called Tim.

"I guess you got my letter, what do you think?"

"Let's do it Tim! And I want the developer and QA staff. My experience tells me we can nip most problems in the bud. These guys can talk directly to their counterparts and hone in on problems a lot quicker. They will be able to help with training too, not just leaving it to the instructors."

When can you go Jerry? Of course, I need you there last month."

I laughed. "Well, I can't make it last month, but I can be there in a week."

"Okay, where you get wrapped up there, come down to the office and get with personnel and work with the managers to get your people. I'll make sure they give you someone good."

"Sounds great. A thought just came to me. Why don't we rotate the developer and QA person on a staggered basis? That way it's like a reward to them to go work in Hawaii for a while."

"Great idea, I'll get things rolling on this end. By the way, I have an agent in Hawaii looking for a building. I'll allow for significant growth. If we get a couple more contracts like the last ones, we might even open a development center down there. I'll come out after you are there for three months or so and see how things are going. See you in a day or two."

I only picked up supplies for a couple days and went back and started cleaning up and shutting down everything. Three days later I was back at work making things happen and feeling a lot more excited than I thought I would. It took the better part of a week and I had a lot of time to spend with my sister. I gave her keys and things and encouraged her to use the cabin. Before I knew it I was on the long flight to Honolulu.

Chapter Four—The Beginning of the End

Things moved fast right off the bat and I didn't have time to think much about anything. I met with our engineers that were onsite at customer installations and let them know they would be based on the customer site or in the new building, however they wanted it. I met with a Real Estate Agent and went over our needs. He told me he would have some sites to look at fairly soon. Our customers were all government agencies and based at Pearl Harbor, or near there.

In the event we found a new building slightly larger than we were looking for, but in a great location. It was in Waipahu, just west of Pearl Harbor and just north of Ewa Beach. This steered me to look around a house near where I had stayed before. I thought maybe I'd try to rent the place I'd been in for a couple of months, the Ala Moana was just too far away. I drove by and found it was empty. There was a sign "For Sale by Owner" and the phone number was from the woman I'd leased it from.

She lived about a mile away so I drove on over. She was surprised and happy to see me. We talked for a few minutes then I asked her why she was selling.

"We thought we would be here forever. We own this house, the one you were in, and a larger house near the University. When we moved our kids, Judith and Robert came out fairly often and always had a lot of fun. They would come every Christmas and for a couple of weeks in the summer. Now they are so busy, Judith is a professor at Arizona State and Robert works for a bank in downtown Phoenix.

"With their kids in school and their work, more often than not we fly back there. Finally we decided to move back. We already have offers for this house and the larger one. But I love that little house on Ewa. That's where we stayed when we first came out. I don't want to sell it to just anyone. If we don't find someone we like we will keep it for a vacation house for the kids and grandkids as they get older."

I told her about my new situation, and said "Actually I came by to see if it was available for a couple months while I look for a house to buy."

"Well, we never leased it after you left. It was so spotless, and you fixed so many things, we wanted to keep it looking nice. I guess it would be alright if you stayed there for a month or two. We wouldn't even charge you as long as you kept it nice."

My brain grabbed my attention by hitting me over the head with a baseball bat. An idea popped out before I could even think about it. "If I could buy that place it would be perfect. I love the house, the location is great. I just don't know if I could afford it."

I had another great idea. I told her about the cabin, what and where and all that. "If you could cut some off the price of the house I would give you a lease, say for fifty years, that anytime myself or my sister's family weren't using it, you and your kids and grandkids could use it whenever you want. It's a beautiful country with lots of trails and fishing and hunting as good as it gets."

So we worked out a deal, I used the same agent I was working with on the new building and things came together quicker than I would have believed. The company was paying one third and I had to sign an agreement to stay with the company at least five years. For each year I stayed I would accrue twenty per cent of the amount they paid.

They had offered to let me move in at once, which I did. I remembered my grandfather telling me, "Jerry, if you need more than a handshake to seal a deal, just walk away from it. Without trust there is nothing."

A vision of Angie walking with me on a soft island evening came to me, of how her beauty and our feelings made it a perfect evening. I had trusted her with all the commitment love could bring. I confess to a bit of bitterness as I realized there would never be another perfect evening unless I let the pain and hard feelings go. Trust!

That aside, things moved fast and in a fairly short time I had a new house. Well, not new, but nice. I settled in to work and made steady progress. I had full support from the home office and a good relationship with the customer. Yeah, they trusted me.

The house came fully furnished which was part of the deal. Most of the stuff was fairly nice, but I changed a few things like adding a comfortable red leather recliner, new mattress, and added a dishwasher. The floor was bamboo but it needed the refinishing I gave it. Adding a new paint job inside and out pretty well wrapped up things. I did most of the work by myself, but hired a local guy I met on the beach to do a few plumbing things and redo some of the wiring.

I was lonely—how could I be lonely in the middle of paradise?—but busy. I tried surfing again but got tired of falling off the board. Mostly I did it because there seemed like a lot of bikinis involved in the sport.

There were much better results with running. I'd done some at the cabin but never really got into it. This time I stuck with it and made steady progress. I found a place I really liked: I'd start at Kuhio Beach Park, run through the zoo and Kapiolani Park and around Diamond Head to the far side. There was an entrance to the center of the old volcano and I run around that a few times and back to Kuhio.

I adapted to the warm temperatures and the humidity and gradually increased my pace. At the end of each run I'd jump in the ocean and swim vigorously for about ten minutes, then easy for another ten. After a few months I started entering some local five and ten kilometer runs and did better than I expected. I found a competitive streak I didn't know existed.

Finally I let myself get talked into running a marathon. I bumped up my mileage and felt ready for the big day. My goal was three and a half hours and I had my pace all figured out. The first few miles I was running a bit faster than I had planned, worried about it for a while, and then said the hell with it. I could always drop out.

I was feeling the pain but in (what seemed) no time I could see the finish line ahead of me. I picked up the pace but nothing close to a sprint. Suddenly a guy cut in front of me, causing me to trip and make a very ungraceful fall about ten feet from the finish line. Knees and hands skinned, a painful ankle and a gritty determination to finish lead me crawling the final few feet. As I crossed a huge cheer roared for me: a combination of recognition of my pain and in breaking three hours by less than a minute!

I was happy but in a world of hurt as a couple of people led me to the first aid tent. A doctor was fooling around with my ankle (causing immense pain) and with a gruff voice said I had a sprained ankle and if I was wise I'd get it x-rayed. He turned to a nurse, and asked, "Kim, could you take care of the scrapes?"

I turned my head to the nurse and felt a lot better. She was some mix of Korean/Hawaiian and truly lovely. I'm not much into measurement, but she sure seemed just about right. She fussed over me, salved my wounds, salved my loneliness, and made me think very grown up thoughts. Figuring, hell, I was a grownup I gave her a big smile and asked if she would like to go eat at the Ala Moana ... after I had recuperated for a few days.

She gave me a judicious look, a big smile, and said sure! We agreed on a date and time then relaxed as best I could while they got someone to get me crutches and someone to agree to drive me home if I paid the taxi back.

Once I got home and relaxed in my new chair with a large glass of Buffalo Trace bourbon, one of Kentucky's finest. It had a long, lush finish that led me to try another glass to make sure, and yes, it was a great finish.

I reflected on the race with residual pain giving me perspective on the day. When I'd started thinking on doing a marathon, I figured if I could start with a target of and three and a half hours and gradually work up to three hours, that would be a good lifetime goal. Now that I had made my lifetime goal, and feeling the pain, I decided my competitive days were over. I wanted to keep running, but for fun, with no time expectations.

Just as I was getting ready to take a pill and go off to la-la land, Kim called and offered to take me in the next morning for the x-ray. I slept soundly waking early and feeling much better. I knew the ankle wasn't broken, but better safe than sorry (I think my mom told me that).

Kim escorted me through the process, and yup, no problems. She took me home and we sat out my veranda people watching with me. She was easy to talk to and we quickly got to know each other. She was born on Maui, her father was a Korean diplomat and her mom was from Thailand. She had an exotic beauty, but somehow she seemed more like a friend that a sex object (I know, I know!).

A few days later we did the messy ribs at the steak place, came back and had mad monkey sex. When we finished we were laying side by side and as we looked at each other we both started laughing. We both loved the sex but neither of us felt any emotional attachment. From then on we became the best of friends. Sure, we got together when we were feeling lonely (read horny), but really the friendship was more important to us.

I told her about Angie, she told me her sad stories. I felt my story was the sadder but hers were quite exciting. She had led an interesting life and I felt that, in retrospect, I was one of life's innocents. But it was fun to get together for a dinner, swimming in the ocean, walking along the beach. We had nothing to prove to each other, there was an acceptance of our likenesses and our differences. Over time we spent less time in bed and more time being friends.