Hawaiian Crosswinds Page 5

  Below, the mission church was in picturesque view, white against dark silhouettes of tropical foliage. He took note of the open door and the lamplight pouring through, remembering the now almost traditional saying attributed to Dr. Jerome Derrington when he’d first built the church. The oversized door was placed in the center; for “Jesus is the true door that opens to forgiveness and access to the Father.”

  Rafe often thought that Jerome had made a serious error in his life when he’d made his decision to go off into researching a cure for leprosy after Rebecca’s internment on Molokai. The decision had taken him away from his daughter Eden and the Derringtons, and sent him exploring exotic regions of the Eastern world. The arduous travels removed him from the work that had been his passion. Had he stayed in Honolulu and preached, his life might have been much more fulfilling—and his health stronger. Rafe hadn’t said anything to Eden, but Jerome was looking haggard. Even so, better to try to stop a stampede of wild stallions than to stop Jerome from his quest for his medical research clinic on Molokai.

  After a time Keno stirred. “Hunnewell tell you what happened?”

  “Hunnewell has his story. What’s yours?”

  “Well, I thought I was being humble by taking the servant’s route to the back entrance when I ran into Oliver. He accused me of sneaking around and he kept insulting me. I tried, but I just couldn’t handle it. I’m not so humble after all, but proud. I clobbered him. Afterward, I understood how I ruined my testimony, so I took off. I came here to talk to Ambrose about it, but then I couldn’t bring myself to walk into the Bible class full of godly men.” He groaned, shaking his head and resting it again in his hands. “He’s going to be mighty ashamed of his ‘protégé.’”

  “Don’t you know him better than that?”

  “Why shouldn’t he be ashamed? When this gets around—” Keno looked down at the lighted windows of the church. “I’m his assistant—or I was. I’ll be an embarrassment to him.”

  “Ambrose isn’t the kind of pastor that needs to go around defending his reputation. He’s an undershepherd to the Great Shepherd. All he’ll worry about is restoring an injured sheep.”

  “Ultimately it’s the Lord I’ve failed.”

  “The Lord is merciful. We have an Advocate with the Father. He’s in the foot-washing business, remember?”

  “Yes, but knocking people unconscious …”

  “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t already been wrestling with anger. I know, because it’s one of my areas of spiritual warfare.”

  Keno understood Rafe’s long journey of anger where Townsend Derrington was concerned. Even as a boy of twelve he had blamed Townsend for his father’s death. There’d been a time soon after Townsend had married his mother when he’d suggested adopting Rafe and making him a Derrington, but Rafe had refused so vigorously that even Celestine had the courage to tell Townsend no, a stance she didn’t take often enough when Townsend resorted to bullying tactics. Rafe had watched as Townsend eventually got his selfish way in marrying Celestine and wrenching control of Easton assets from her, and squandering them through the years. As Rafe grew into manhood his anger and dislike simmered.

  “I’m in no position to lecture you,” Rafe said gravely. “Except I know how dangerous anger can be when left unchecked. It can become one of Satan’s strongholds to war against us.”

  Keno sat in the shadows, still holding his head.

  “Strongholds make it easier for the Enemy to lay traps in our path. Both of us need to watch our vulnerabilities. We know sin crouches at the door like a lion, ready to spring.”

  “I could sense the lion crouching when I got angry, and he sure did injure his prey this time.”

  “Now he wants to see you crawl off into the wilderness of guilt and despair and lick your wounds. If you do he’s won another battle. If we doubt that Christ can really cleanse us of unrighteousness, he has us out of the race and by the side of the road.”

  “You’re right … I need to move on. Get the incident right with the Lord, then keep walking.”

  Rafe grew silent. They watched the activity down at the mission church, where the meeting was over, and some of the men had begun to drift out and over to the bungalow to greet Noelani and enjoy her little coconut cakes.

  “But you know,” Keno said, “the men down there are going to hear about me and Hunnewell.”

  “They know you. They don’t know Hunnewell. They’ll stand with you. If they don’t, their fellowship would be superficial, wouldn’t it?”

  “Candace will hear about it.”

  “Candace will make up her own mind. But be sure Oliver’s going to fill her ears with lies. He’s already claiming you hid in the bushes and jumped out at him with a club. He’s even talking of going to Marshal Harper.”

  Keno groaned. “Anything to make me a villain.”

  “Look here, Keno, it’s also time to face the painful truth about losing Candace. The engagement is next week. She’s going through with it.”

  Keno came to his feet, pacing. “She can’t!”

  “She will. She’s the kind who’ll walk barefoot over coals of fire if expected of her as a woman of honor. So will Eden. Well, you know how exasperating Eden is.” Rafe stooped, then snatched up a piece of black lava and threw it. “She’s going to Molokai with her father no matter what. So I’ve decided this will be the route of her emotional release. But it will certainly take patience.”

  Keno was deep within his struggle. “There’s got to be more to Candace’s sudden decision than pleasing her grandfather.”

  “There is something more. I’m sure of it,” Rafe mused. “Eden knows what it is.”

  Keno looked at him. “How do you know?”

  “She looks away when I ask her about Candace.”

  Keno sank back down on the rock looking miserable. “Women!”

  “You’re not alone. Remember what I’ve gone through with Miss Green Eyes.” He tried now to lighten the mood for Keno. “I’ve been thinking. If this was another time I’d put Eden on the Minoa and sail the Caribbean. We’d marry aboard ship. And there’d be nothing she could do about it.”

  Keno broke a smile. “That’s an idea, pal. For both us.”

  “That’s right. We’ll take them with us and sail for Jamaica. I’ve heard land down there is cheap. Sugar grows as good as it does in Hawaii. We’ll begin plantations and have dozens of sons to leave it to.”

  “A perfect plan.” Keno stood. “And if this were the 1600s, as you say, we’d get by with it.”

  “Ah, those were the days.”

  “Maybe we’d get by with it now …?”

  Rafe looked at him, saw his serious expression, and laughed.

  The moon unexpectedly came out from behind some clouds and sent a silvery glow on the grounds of the mission. The white building and cross gleamed like a beacon of hope, a lighthouse on a cliff in dangerous weather.

  “We’ll think about it. First, why did you go to Hunnewell’s place tonight?”

  Keno’s lighter mood struck bottom again. His cautious expression warned Rafe. Trouble ahead.

  Keno retrieved a folded paper from his shirt pocket and handed it to Rafe.

  “Sorry, pal. We’ve been so busy with my problems I forgot about yours. Ambrose got this telegram tonight from your mother in San Francisco. Ambrose said it’s important. So I went looking for you and walked into the Devil’s campground.”

  At the mention of San Francisco the winds of conflict stirred to life again.

  Rafe took the message, unfolded it, and read in the shaft of moonlight the words flashing the danger signal.

  “Townsend is here. I believe he is watching the house. Parker Judson called authorities but Townsend gone again by time they arrived. He’s still here in San Francisco. Parker has promised Kip and I will be kept secure. Even so, I’m uneasy”

  He reread the message several times and then handed it to Keno to read.

  In the tense silence, Rafe walked to the edge o
f the hill and looked off thoughtfully. The scene below would have made a pleasant painting to grace any wall. Stately palms, a neat white church, a centered cross trumpeting God’s forgiveness, and men dispersing with Bibles in hand. Ambrose was standing in the doorway, his sturdy form outlined in the light from within. The sea breeze carried laughter that drifted up to the rock. All is well, the scene declared.

  Except Townsend’s in San Francisco.

  Townsend, who had allowed Rafe’s father to die from a fall he’d taken from a cliff, in order to gain his wife and his land. Townsend, who’d tried to gain Aunt Nora’s estate by destroying her mind or body with a drug. Townsend, who had alerted the Board of Health about Kip’s background on Molokai to heap revenge on Rafe for regaining Hanalei; and Townsend, who had set the flame to Ling Li’s hut on Kea Lani because he’d suspected Ling of knowing about his reprehensible deed done years earlier to Matt Easton.

  The words Townsend is here stared up at him as if dripping blood on the paper. At once the challenge to stop him gripped Rafe’s emotions. Only the knowledge that his mother and Kip were secure within Parker Judson’s house allowed him a reprieve from immediately packing his bags.

  The crosswinds of conflict were beginning again, this time not against Keno but his own soul. He sensed the storm would be overturning some structures built on sand before the tide turned back and the winds calmed, if they calmed at all.

  Keno joined him on the hill’s edge, handing back the telegraphed message from Celestine. His eyes were grave as they focused on Rafe.

  “That lion you mentioned crouching at the door? I think he’s licking his chops again,” Keno said.

  Chapter Five

  Unexpected Witness

  The men from the Bible study meeting had returned home. Ambrose’s bungalow had settled down to a strained silence. Outside the door and windows, the rabid wind snapped and snarled at the tropical vegetation. In the kitchen Noelani was cleaning up the dishes left by the men’s group, always her devoted duty in the sanctified work. “It’s the one thing I can do. Dear Ambrose tells me how needful I am,” she would say, and then she would smile.

  Rafe paced the living room floor, one hand at the back of his neck. He felt a headache coming on. Keno leaned his shoulder into the wall, staring glumly at the floor. The windows rattled. A branch clawed at the side of the bungalow.

  Ambrose’s concern was fixed on his nephew.

  “Let the San Francisco police track him down, Rafe.”

  “The way the Honolulu police handled Townsend from this end?”

  Rafe was frustrated. The authorities were shorthanded, and slow. Townsend had outsmarted them easily enough. He must have used a disguise to board the steamer.

  “Ainsworth wanted Townsend to escape from the Islands,” Rafe stated. “He didn’t want him questioned for fear the newspapers would run with the story and ruin the Derrington name. He put quiet pressure on the authorities to look the other way.”

  “You know my opinion,” Ambrose stated soberly. “The authorities should never be left to the persuasion of the socially powerful, or its wealthiest elite, lest tyranny reign.”

  “Another reason for the US Constitution and Bill of Rights. But regardless of any argument made, they have your witness that Townsend admitted it,” Rafe said. “He burned down Ling’s hut to silence him on Matt’s death. Harper has spoken to Ling. I’ve shown him the signed and dated letter Nora and Candace sent me. Townsend feared Nora would include details about Matt’s death in her Derrington family history. That’s why he tried to steal it at Tamarind House.”

  “But did he ever get the facts? He said nothing of that to me or Ainsworth that night at Kea Lani,” Ambrose said.

  “He must have gotten hold of Nora’s writing the night Zach trailed him to Koko Head. Townsend considered her a threat when he saw that Nora felt it her obligation to present the truth in her book before she passed away. Then Ling became the next problem for Townsend. Ling was a witness to Matt’s death. He had to silence Ling to undermine Nora’s book. It was Townsend who burned down his hut; Townsend entered Tamarind House searching for Nora’s manuscript to see if she’d told the truth about Matt; and Townsend walked away and let my father die. Townsend knew Ling was the only witness against him.”

  “What we don’t have,” Ambrose said, “is Townsend’s confession about Nora.”

  “Or the heart medication,” Rafe gritted, pacing again. “If we’d had hard evidence at the time, it would have supported Dr. Jerome’s suggestion that a little arsenic could have been added.”

  Keno stirred. “I thought he and Doc Bolton both told the marshal they couldn’t swear the medicine was poisoned?”

  “They did tell him that,” Ambrose said. “They had no other course, since poor, confused Nora tossed away the evidence. Afterward there wasn’t much Marshal Harper could do.”

  Rafe wondered if Great-aunt Nora Derrington was as confused as she pretended. He had reviewed her folly far more times than he cared to remember, and he did so again now, with the result just as frustrating as before. Nora had destroyed the only evidence that could have proven she’d been deliberately poisoned.

  “My dear boy! There’s no reason for you to become livid with me about it,” she told him when he’d questioned her soon afterward. “How was I to know the bottle would be crucial? All I knew was I’d become ill after the first dose of that dreadful medication Dr. Bolton prescribed. I’ve never set much regard on his prescriptions anyway. If it hadn’t been for Eden urging me, I wouldn’t have taken it at all. This time, I thought he’d genuinely erred, that the concoction had become rancid, and so I threw it away. Quite sensible, I assure you.”

  Whether it was or not, the deed was done. It was unfortunate that she had complained of medical incompetence, and refused to listen to Candace and see another physician. As a result it had taken two weeks before Eden and Dr. Jerome arrived at Tamarind House where they discovered just how ill she’d been. Arriving even a week earlier might have meant finding the bottle by the incinerator in back of the house. Rafe had gone there to search, but by then there was nothing but charred rubble.

  Rafe poured himself some coffee. Hindrances and obstructions had hemmed him in for weeks. The failure to gather enough legal evidence to pursue Townsend had become a constant source of concern.

  Now, hearing the details over again, along with the telegraph from Celestine in San Francisco, urged him to move forward on his own. If the Derrington family wouldn’t opt for justice, then he’d take matters into his own hands when he arrived. He understood that his conviction worried Ambrose. Keno was right about the stalking lion out to devour. Rafe could feel its hot breath following him, urging him to become the lone avenger.

  His mind veered off to Ainsworth. He had immediately taken advantage of the absence of the medication as proof that Nora was mistaken about poison. He’d urged her with great zeal to hold off filing legal charges against her nephew until after the trip to Washington. To others he said, “Nora is getting old, you know. She may have imagined the poisoned medication. We know she hasn’t been in prime health lately. It’s not surprising that she took to bed for a few weeks.”

  Whether Ainsworth actually believed this scenario was doubtful, and from the beginning he was looking for ways to delay the scandal from breaking in Honolulu, vexed beyond measure over how it would tarnish the Derrington name. “Especially now,” he’d protested. “I assure you this is a crucial hour for the success or failure of the annexation movement. A headline of attempted murder by my son would be a gold mine for the monarchists.”

  Rafe understood Ainsworth’s fears. Townsend’s reputation would be used by the opposition and as a battering ram to topple the movement.

  “As you say, we don’t have Townsend’s confession,” Rafe said. “But then again he would never admit to putting arsenic in her heart medicine. When he saw what she’d written, that he’d walked away and left my father sprawled on the lava rocks, he knew his secret was no longe
r hidden, that Nora would unmask him. He had to silence her. And he would have if she’d been the sort to keep taking that medication. One more dose would likely have struck her.”

  When Townsend had showed up at Kea Lani, he denied everything Ambrose and Ainsworth put to him, then he became arrogant. He admitted deliberately setting fire to Ling’s hut to silence Ling and his wife. He even admitted the worst—that he’d left Rafe’s father to die in the lava bed where he’d fallen after an argument over Celestine. True, Townsend claimed he didn’t think Matt would have lived anyway, but even if it wasn’t premeditated murder—and Rafe had doubts about that—his action was willful contributory neglect toward manslaughter.

  Rafe’s chiseled jaw set. Townsend had wanted his father dead. He had wanted Matt’s wife and Matt’s land. And he got them, for a time. Now the choices he’d made along life’s journey were slowly gaining on him. The clock was ticking. He lost the treasured Easton land and enterprise and the beautiful Celestine. And he risked murder to protect himself, and this time he’d failed to bring it off. What he might do next was the question that worried Rafe. I must get to San Francisco.

  “As strange as this may sound, lad, it’s you who might be the one in the most danger from Townsend. I believe he’s always resented you, even when you were a boy. You were the smart one, the good-looking one, the inheritor of all things Easton, including Celestine’s motherly pride and affection. And now Satan has filled his heart with hate. You’re the one who has shined the light on him. And what’s revealed isn’t pleasant to look at.”

  A confident knock on the front door interrupted.

  Noelani went to answer. Keno came behind her from the kitchen with a plate of coconut cakes and a mug of coffee.