The Aloha Quilt (21 page)

She could wait until later that night after her children returned to their own homes,
or she could call their cell phones. But she knew Tammy’s cell phone would be tucked
into a pocket of the diaper bag, the ring muffled and inaudible in the din. Barry
never had service in the Scranton area, and C.J. was so often harassed with after-hours
calls from work that he refused to switch on his cell phone on holidays. Bonnie’s
only reasonable options were to call the Markham home or not speak to her children
and grandchildren on Thanksgiving, and she couldn’t bear to do that. After much hesitation,
she dialed her mother-in-law’s number.

Her sister-in-law picked up, and they spent a few moments engaged in awkward small
talk before Linda finished setting out pies for dessert and came to the phone. “Bonnie,
dear,” she greeted her. “How are you? What time is it where you are?”

The unbridled warmth in her voice brought tears to Bonnie’s
eyes. “It’s only ten in the morning here,” she said. “The sun’s shining, the sky is
blue, just another beautiful day in paradise.”

Linda insisted Bonnie tell her all about it, and so Bonnie gave her the highlights
of her adventures in Hawaii without revealing too many details that Linda might inadvertently
pass on to Craig, enabling him to figure out her exact location. Linda sounded genuinely
happy for her, which Bonnie had not expected, and a little wistful, which she had.

“I don’t suppose you want to talk to Craig?” Linda said when Bonnie finished her travelogue.

“I’m sorry, but I think it’s best if I don’t.”

“I understand.” Linda hesitated. “Well, Bonnie, it was sure nice talking to you. Please
don’t be a stranger. I’ve thought of you as a daughter all these many years and I
can’t just switch that off. You might have divorced Craig, but you didn’t divorce
me.”

Throat constricting, Bonnie promised to remember that, and she asked to speak to C.J.

“Oh, here’s Tammy,” Linda said brightly, and handed off the phone.

“Hi, Mom,” said Tammy. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too.” It was so wonderful to hear her daughter’s voice.
“How’s the baby?”

They chatted happily on that subject for a good fifteen minutes, the voices and clamor
of the family in the background sometimes drowning out Tammy’s words. Bonnie was telling
Tammy about her plans to celebrate Thanksgiving at a luau at the home of Midori’s
eldest daughter when the baby began to fuss. “You have your hands full,” said Bonnie,
laughing. “Why don’t you put C.J. on?”

“Didn’t Grandma tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“C.J. isn’t here. They’re spending Thanksgiving with Julie’s family.”

“But I thought this was the Markhams’ year for Thanksgiving.” C.J. and his wife alternated
their holiday plans: One year they spent Thanksgiving with the Markhams and Christmas
with Julie’s family, and the next year they switched. “Did something come up? Will
they spend Christmas in Scranton instead? That would make Grandma Markham happy. You
know how much she enjoys seeing everyone around the tree on Christmas morning.”

Tammy hesitated. “Well, no, C.J. said he was thinking of spending Christmas in Hawaii
with you.”

“I’d love that, but I still don’t understand why he changed his Thanksgiving plans.
Is it because I’m not there?” Despite Linda’s friendliness, it would have been awkward
for Bonnie to show up for Thanksgiving dinner with the divorce in such a contentious
state. It was impossible to believe that her relationship with Craig would ever again
be cordial enough for Bonnie to consider celebrating holidays with the Markham family.
Claire’s invitation to spend the winter in Hawaii had spared Bonnie the difficult
and painful task of asking the children to decide between spending the holidays with
their mother or their father. Next year she would not be able to avoid it.

The background voices faded, as if Tammy had carried the cordless phone into a secluded
room. “C.J. didn’t stay away because you
aren’t
here,” she said, “but because Dad
is
here.”

“You mean they still haven’t made up?”

“Mom, you have no idea. For the past month, things have been getting worse and worse
between them. A few days ago C.J. told Grandma that he was very sorry to miss seeing
her
on Thanksgiving, but he can’t be under the same roof as his father.”

“He shouldn’t have told Grandma that,” said Bonnie, dismayed. “He could have come
up with some other excuse without stretching the truth too much.”

“I know. Nice of him to drag Grandma into the middle of the conflict.” Tammy sighed.
“He’s your staunchest defender, Mom, and he’s determined to make everyone in the family
see Dad as the villain.”

“Well,” said Bonnie carefully, “he is the villain, sweetie. He had an affair. He emptied
our joint bank account and opened another in his own name. He hid assets from me.
He changed the locks when I was away from home.”

“I know, Mom, I know. If Jason ever did to me what Dad did to you, I don’t think I
could stay with him either. But deep down, I know Dad isn’t a bad person. He’s just
going through a midlife crisis or something.”

Bonnie had read the books and advice columns and knew it was harmful for divorcing
parents to criticize the estranged spouse in front of the children. Even so, she could
not bear for her daughter to think that she and Craig were equally complicit in the
failure of their marriage. “The simple truth is that your father has done some very
bad things. I know you love him and you don’t want anyone to speak ill of him, but
please don’t ignore the facts out of loyalty. That’s not fair.”

“I won’t.” Tammy’s voice was subdued. “I know you never wanted things to turn out
this way. But neither did he.”

Bonnie was past caring what Craig wanted. “Then he should have made different choices
along the way, wouldn’t you agree?”

“He messed up. I won’t deny it.” The noise of conversation and laughter resumed, as
if Tammy had rejoined the party.
“Last time I saw Barry, he was in the backyard playing football with the cousins.
I’ll find him and put him on.”

“Thanks, sweetie. Happy Thanksgiving. Aloha!”

Tammy laughed. “Aloha to you too, Mom.”

Bonnie stayed on the line while Tammy sought out her younger brother, the sounds of
the gathering rising and falling in the background. Then Bonnie heard a low voice
rise above the other voices, and Tammy’s reply, and then a jumble of rustling and
scraping as someone grabbed the phone.

“What the hell kind of stunt was that?” Craig barked in her ear. “You’re sending spies
after me now?”

As the sounds of the party swiftly faded, Bonnie imagined Craig striding down the
long hallway toward the rear of the house, phone clenched in his fist. “Craig, give
the phone back to Tammy.”

“Isn’t it bad enough that you ruined my life, but you have to ruin Terri’s too? Her
ex-husband could use this to screw up her custody of their kids.”

“I didn’t ruin your life or hers,” Bonnie snapped, voice shaking. “You and Terri brought
this upon yourselves.”

“If you think you can blackmail me into giving up what’s rightfully mine, you’ve got
a lot to learn. I earned that money. It’s mine. And who the hell do you think you
are, calling my mother’s house on Thanksgiving?”

“I only wanted to speak to the kids. Please just give the phone to Barry.”

“Why should I? Why should I let you speak to him when you won’t let C.J. speak to
me?”

“I have nothing to do with that. I never told C.J.—”

“You forget who you’re talking to. I know you better than you know yourself, Bonnie.
You think you can keep my first born son away from me, you think you can force me
and Terri
apart, but you’re wrong, and if you don’t stop it, you’re going to be very sorry.
I can play hardball too—”

Quickly Bonnie hung up the phone, heart pounding. Such venom in his voice, such outrage.
She never should have called his mother’s home. It had been so refreshing to chat
with Linda, to clear the air—but the cost was too high. Her heart was racing, her
head spinning, her breath catching in her throat. She had not realized how safe and
secure she felt having no direct contact with Craig until she heard his voice.

It was the way it had to be. No contact, except through their lawyers. Craig had upset
her too much, had sent her emotions spinning in a kaleidoscope of confusion and pain
with a single conversation. She could not give him such control over her. Until she
knew she could face him with complete indifference, she must avoid all places and
situations where she might encounter him, whether in person or over the phone.

She would not make that mistake again.

Soberly Bonnie dressed for the luau and tried to put the upsetting conflict out of
her mind. Never before had she been so thankful for the continent and ocean separating
her from Craig. After the holiday weekend, she would have to contact Darren Taylor
and tell him about the incident. She wasn’t afraid of Craig, not exactly, if only
because he had never laid a hand on her. He had hurled insults at her before, words
as caustic as acid, but this time there was a different note in his voice. He sounded
like a man who had lost nearly everything and was determined to hold on to the little
he had left.

She said nothing of Craig’s outburst as Eric drove her, Claire, and Midori to the
home of Midori’s eldest daughter,
Keilana, in the town of Kuau on Maui’s north shore. The house Keilana shared with
her husband and three children was a single story, but raised up on stilts to a second-floor
height with room to park cars beneath. A shaded lanai wrapped around the house, and
upon it adults and children alike talked, laughed, and enjoyed what was surely a wonderful
view of the ocean, just across the busy highway behind a row of beachfront houses
on long, narrow lots. Cars lined both sides of the street, so Eric parked on the ocean
side some distance away. Even from there Bonnie heard music coming from the backyard—ukulele
and guitar, and a woman singing. Carrying the pineapple upside-down cake Midori had
baked, she followed her friends up the gravel driveway, breaking into a smile at the
sight of the festivities already under way in the yard—clusters of adults chatting
and laughing, children darting about engrossed in play, men and women arranging picnic
tables into a long row and covering them with tablecloths, a few musicians taking
instruments from cases on the lanai. She thought she might find Hinano among them—Midori
had told her that he and Kai would attend the party—but he was not yet there.

She soon discovered that Midori’s
ohana
included friends and neighbors as well as actual relatives, for the party quickly
grew until it was nearly as large as the group that had celebrated Halloween at the
Hale Kapa Kuiki. Bonnie had never been among such a friendly, cheerful gathering of
such extraordinary diversity—different races, every age from infant to elderly, different
accents, shapes, and sizes—everyone mixing and mingling and getting along better than
most real families did.

It was almost time for the main feast to begin when she finally bumped into Hinano.
“Hey, snowbird,” he greeted her, raising his beer bottle to her in salute. “What do
you think of your first Hawaiian Thanksgiving?”

“It’s wonderful.” Everyone had welcomed her so warmly, as if she were a long-lost
member of the extended
ohana
. “I’m surprised you’re not up there with the band.”

“Eh, we take turns. It’s nothing formal. When Denis gets tired, I’ll probably take
over for him.”

A sudden stir in a back corner of the yard caught their attention. “You don’t want
to miss this,” Hinano said, taking her by the elbow and guiding her through the crowd.
“They’re opening the
imu
and bringing out the pig and the turkeys.”

From her visit to the Old Lahaina Lu‘au Bonnie knew that an
imu
was an underground oven, but she was still surprised. “You mean they cook the turkeys
in there, too? Can you do that?”

“Of course,” he said, amused. “It’s a hole in the ground. The technology’s not that
specialized. You can
kalua
just about anything, and it taste so good it break da mout.”

As she puzzled out his last words, Hinano grinned at her bewilderment and brought
her closer to the
imu
, where three large Hawaiian men were shoveling aside a thick layer of loose sand
to reveal what appeared to be a thick covering of kapa cloth, woven mats, and burlap
bags. The men carefully lifted the covering without spilling any sand into the pit
below, releasing a gust of steam and the most delicious, mouth-watering aroma Bonnie
had ever savored.

Others came forward then to help lift the cooked meats wrapped in blackened
ti
and banana leaves from the pit and carry them off to the serving tables. “The meat’ll
fall off the bone,” Hinano promised. “Just wait till you taste it. This will be the
best meal you’ve ever had. Make sure you take a bit of everything.”