powerhouse of thoughts and feelings surrounding the loss of her fiancé a year and a half ago. Struggling, she forced the memories deep down inside her. Morgan’s unexpected call had torn loose the heavy steel door she’d placed against that terrible day when she’d lost the rest of her world. Lost her will to live her life with the passion she had before.
Normally, she savored the sweet, nutlike taste of the Kauai plantation coffee she drank each morning, but her peace had been shattered. Why had Morgan asked the impossible of her? Kulani had come to think of Morgan as an adopted father. He’d certainly treated her like a daughter. If not for him, for his flight to Kauai after the unthinkable accident, Kulani would have been alone in the aftermath.
Morgan’s presence had been a balm to her during the ordeal. He’d organized the funeral, taken care of the paperwork, the police and the insurance people when she could do little else but sit in shocked, almost catatonic silence or suffer incredible storms of weeping, anger and guilt. Morgan had been there for her through it all. Oh, she’d heard of his famous care when mercenaries who worked for him at Perseus got into trouble. And Kulani had talked to more than one merc who had been blessed with Morgan’s presence during some traumatic event. But she had never expected Morgan to be there for her as he had.
Closing her eyes momentarily, Kulani took in a deep, shaky breath of air. Morgan had helped her piece her life back together after that tragic day. He’d put her on leave with full pay. He got Dr. Ann Parsons, a flight surgeon and psychiatrist, to fly over to Kauai and help Kulani through the worst of her grief. When all was said and done, Kulani could not force herself to go back to work—at least, not the type of work she’d done before.
She’d flown to Montana, to that little mining town nestled deep in the Rocky Mountains where Morgan made a life for himself and his growing family. Save for her father, she’d rarely seen such family devotion in a man, as she saw in Morgan. And it was then that she began to realize she was like family to Morgan and not just an employee, another cog in the wheel of Perseus. She and Morgan had sat deep underground, in the war room of his facility, and talked. She knew he was a terribly busy man, yet on that afternoon he acted as if she were the only focus he had in his complex and pressing world. Laura, his wife, was pregnant with the twins back then and she had gone into labor the day Kulani was there. The call from the midwife came in just as she and Morgan were finishing their meeting.
Opening her eyes now, Kulani let her gaze drift to another photo below that of her parents. It was of Laura, looking very tired but happy, with her twins, Peter and Kelly, in her arms. Morgan sat behind her, his massive arms around her and the newborns, making the babies look tiny in comparison. His eyes shone with pride and happiness. Kulani had been privileged to be at their home while the midwife, along with Morgan, had helped Laura welcome their newest children into the world. The photo was one of the many she’d snapped that day with her camera. And she’d rolled up her sleeves and helped out around the house. Not that Morgan and Laura didn’t have nearby friends who also came to help. But Morgan had made Kulani feel part of his family and she’d wanted to be there for him and Laura.
Swallowing hard, Kulani avoided Morgan’s smiling countenance. The next day, when she was preparing to leave her motel and fly home after telling Morgan she was quitting Perseus, she’d gotten a phone call from him. He’d invited her over to the house for lunch. She’d gone over and watched him bungle through making soup and crackers. Morgan wasn’t exactly a hausfrau, but in her eyes and heart, his awkward attempts made him even more lovable. He’d proudly made Laura, who was spending the first day after the births in bed, the same fare. Kulani was sure it was welcomed, despite its simplicity. The heart behind the offering was what counted.
When Morgan had sat down to eat with her at the kitchen table, he’d asked her what she wanted to do as a “civilian.” Trying to smile, she’d told him of her dream to buy her own helicopter and start a touring business on Kauai. She wanted to share the incredible beauty, the sacredness of her island, with those who were drawn to the place she called home.
It was Morgan who suggested that he float a loan for the 1.3 million dollar Aerostar helicopter for Kulani to start her business. She’d sat there, mouth agape, stunned at his offer. There was no way she could afford to swing such a loan herself. Who had a million dollars to throw around?
Perseus did. Morgan told her to fly home, contact the aircraft manufacturer, put in her order for the Aerostar, and he’d handle the rest of the paperwork. It was a loan in his name, and she could send him monthly payments at a very low rate of interest, to pay him back. She’d accepted his incredible generosity.
That was a year and a half ago. Kulani had come home, accepted the Aerostar at the Lihue Airport and built a lasting name on the island for her touring services, Rainbow Air. All thanks to Morgan, who had picked up the pieces of her life and given them back to her. But there was still a huge, gaping wound in Kulani. She could feel the emptiness sometimes when she waxed philosophical. Every time she had to fly past the Na Pali Coast, the most beautiful and dangerous part of her island home, her gut would clench. Over time, the clenching stopped, and so had a lot of the emotional turmoil that flying near the scene of the tragedy caused. Maybe the fact that her tour route took her past the coast every day, five days a week, had helped some of her initial emotional reactions toward it to fade. Her flight service was so popular that she had a third of the loan to Morgan already paid off. Just the day before Morgan’s recent phone call, Kulani had been thinking that for once her life was steady and predictable. No more chaos. Just doing what she loved most: flying. Yesterday she would have sat here and said she had nearly everything she could ever want in life. Almost.
Today, the taste of ashes filled her mouth. Her heart felt bruised when she thought of the wrenching phone call, like someone had placed a belt around her chest and was tightening it. Torn between her loyalty for Morgan, and her own still unhealed grief, Kulani felt shaken to the core. She knew Morgan needed her help—desperately. He wouldn’t have asked her otherwise. And yet she’d hung up on him like an immature teenager who hadn’t yet mastered her emotions. She needed to call him back. But something whispered to her not to try it today. Still feeling too raw, Kulani honored her own need to take time to get down off the roller coaster of emotions Morgan had torn loose in her once again. She couldn’t take the mission, but she could at least apologize for her behavior and let him know that she just didn’t have what it would take to help him. Kulani knew Morgan would understand. He was one of the most insightful human beings she’d ever had the privilege of knowing.
Looking at the simple gold watch with the dark brown leather band on her wrist, Kulani realized it was time to go. Usually she looked forward to her work—taking six people five times a day on one-hour flights around her beautiful island. Today her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to stay home. Maybe do some cooking, which she loved but rarely had time for anymore. Or to putter in her mother’s herb garden, which she had replanted after she’d come home to stay. There was something soothing and nurturing about sliding her fingers into the rich, warm volcanic soil of the island. It was healing. And right now, she needed a little time out to do just that. But a million-dollar helicopter did not get paid off by her sitting around and feeling sorry for herself.
What would today bring? What kind of people? Any quirky characters? Today it would take everything for her to remain pleasant, to pretend she was enjoying their company as much as they were falling in love with her beautiful isle.
Dev hoped he didn’t look too conspicuous in his bright red, short-sleeved shirt liberally splashed with white hibiscus. Donning a pair of aviator-style sunglasses, he hoped that he looked like a tourist—more aptly, a fish out of water. He stood at the back of the small group of people, all thrilled and excited about their upcoming flight around the gorgeous, green-mantled island of Kauai. Dev’s gaze was riveted on the Rainbow Air Aerostar, a white helicopter with a brilliant rainbow painted across the fuselage. Inside it, he could see the pilot, Kulani Dawson, with a clipboard
