It was a portrait of Lala and Keoni, in the pool near the cottage. Both were naked, as Troy must often have seen them. Lala was sitting at the edge of the pool, leaning slightly backward and laughing as Keoni knelt and fastened ginger blossoms in her hair. Scattered around them and floating on the water were petals of white ginger.
This was a new Troy girl — without a yearning look.
Anne and I had moved to the edge of the group. Anne whispered, “Look!” and I glanced toward the house.
Mavis stood there, clutching to her chest the tray from which she had just been serving drinks. She Seemed frozen in that position. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips curled back in open hatred. I averted my eyes and muttered to Anne, “I’m beginning to see what you mean.”
Announcement of the engagement sparked hilarity. Umi’s boys began to play and everyone called to the engaged couple for a hula. Lala protested but finally went into the house and came out in a yellow holoku, a circle of flame hibiscus on her head and around her throat. Keoni joined her. Then they began a courtship dance, the kind of dance the tourist never sees.
Smiling, dark eyes shining, they faced each other with knees bent and worked down with hips moving in a figure-eight; then they rose slowly. Keoni began to circle as Lala did the olappa, the measured sway of her body accompanied by voluptuous undulation of hips while her knees lifted sharply in counter-accent and the train of her holoku jerked across the sand.
The boys chanted the song; a woman offering herself, reciting to her lover her own charms, clinging lips and warm breasts and encircling arms, the yearning and fire of her flesh; watchers grew tense as Lala’s fingertips caressed her brown skin; when she lifted her eyes to Keoni in challenge he let out an exultant cry and moved toward her in frankly mating motions while onlookers held their breaths. They finished side by side, panting, and the crowd yelled.
Then, to uproarious applause, Troy began to dance. He didn’t do badly, and what he lacked in grace and technique he made up in enthusiasm as he courted Lala’s delighted grandmother. The old lady simpered, she made mock protestations of modesty, and finally she rose and finished the dance as his partner.
Troy came over to us a few minutes later, his face flushed. “Having a good time?”
“Wonderful. We think your picture is wonderful, too.”
“I’ve never enjoyed doing one more. How about a drink? I’m taking it easy, this is one party where I don’t want to miss a moment. But let me bring you something.”
“Thanks, Troy, but we’re doing fine—”
Yells from the vicinity of the imu indicated that the big moment had arrived. Troy started running, eager as a child.
As we walked toward it, Anne said, “While I was changing into my suit I read a letter that came just as we left the house. It was from Leila Morgan.”
“Is she feeling better?”
“Yes. She mentioned how sorry they are to hear that the Purcells have changed their mind about giving up the apartment.”
“But Mavis said—” I had stopped dead still. Anne caught my elbow and urged me forward.
“That is what she said.” Her voice was low. “I wish we knew when Troy made the final decision about staying here.”
“We can ask David. We were going to ask him anyway.”
“That isn’t necessary now.”
I had decided the same thing. If Troy were in love with Lala he would never have painted her with Keoni. Troy was in love, yes. He had fallen in love with life. I wondered whether Mavis understood this.
We looked for David, but he was helping at the imu. Archie, who took full advantage of his dramatic moment, was waiting while his helpers scraped away the sand. He posed with impressive dignity, straining the patience of his audience to the limit as they stared at steam rising from the pit. Then with a magnificent flourish he swept aside brown and wilted leaves to reveal the roasted pigs, sizzling with fat, emitting savory vapors. A concerted hungry moan rose to the evening sky.
“Hele mai e ai!” a woman called. Come and eat! The crowd broke ranks and rushed for places.
Four men carried the pigs on huge koa platters carved with supporting feet, and set their steaming burden in the center of the table. Lala’s grandmother rose and there was a hush as she began to chant, first a kuauhau, the genealogy of the family, then a long prayer for the happiness of the young couple. She finished and sat down, food was passed, and the feast was on. Imu pork, white and succulent inside crackling brown skin, red yams with the sweetness of honey, steamed mullet, chicken in coconut milk, briny laulaus, baked bananas, tender crabmeat, cool lavender pot which blended perfectly with other flavors.
Troy and Mavis sat near Lala’s grandmother, opposite Lala and Keoni. The Garrisons were beside them, then, there was Umi, who beamed at the success of his sister’s party. Anne and I had taken seats next to David. Mavis, I noticed, picked at her food; Troy ate as if famished. Drinks were passed during dinner and he emptied several glasses. David caught me watching this and said, “We tipped off the bartender. Troy’s drinking ginger ale.”
I said, “David. I want to talk to you after dinner.”
He gave me an odd look. “Okay.”
But after dinner it was difficult to find David. Night had come by then and torches had been lit and tied to several posts. Anne and I looked among rocks, behind the house, and along the shore where the light did not reach. “Do you think he’s avoiding us?” I asked.
“Perhaps. We’ve got to find him.”
I called his name several times, and finally David stepped out of the shadows. “What do you want?”
“We’re worried about the Purcells,” Anne told him. “Do you know when Troy decided definitely to buy the house from Umi?”
“Two weeks ago,” David said. “Maybe longer than that. I’m not sure. Why?”
“The date is important.”
David shrugged. “Maybe Lala can tell you. She saw Troy every day.” Anne started immediately toward where Lala and Keoni stood. They were near the steps of the lanai, holding hands as they watched a fat, giggling Hawaiian woman dancing opposite wizened Archie Kamaka in a very wicked hula. Troy was with the musicians; he chanted with each chorus.
David started to walk away and I followed. “You knew what might happen when you sent Troy to Kauai. Why did you do it?”
David turned. Torchlight flared behind him, silhouetting his body. For a moment he was David the primitive, the perfect native specimen Mavis had labeled him. But it was David the civilized who answered. “He asked for it.”
“But his wife—”
David’s voice was harsh. “She won’t stay. Soon she’ll hate it — and us and everything we mean to him — even more than she does now.”
“Then it can’t possibly work out. She’s his wife.”
David jerked his head toward the house. Mavis, dainty in her white dress, was passing drinks to the Garrisons on a tray, then carrying one to Troy, laying an affectionate hand on his shoulder as she offered it.
David looked at me. He made a gesture with his two hands like a man twisting the neck of a barnyard fowl and flinging it to the ground to flap its life out. He wheeled and left.
When I reached the house, Anne had drawn Lala aside and they were sitting together on the steps. As I joined them Anne said, “She doesn’t know me very well, Johnny. Please talk to her.”
I sat down beside Lala. “We wanted to ask about Troy and his wife.”
“Yes?” Her lids dropped and she was remote.