I almost touch my stomach, thinking of my baby, thinking that soon I’ll be setting up a nursery and getting everything ready. But it’s too soon now. I’m superstitious that way. “No. Just looking.”

“We’ve got cute fall clothes coming in every day.”

“Thanks.” She leaves, and reluctantly I hang the fuzzy zipper sleeper back on the rod. I’d forgotten how gorgeous newborn clothes are. I love all the whites and brights, the cheerful patterns, the funky stripes and bold checks.

Impulsively, I take back the zipper sleeper. I’m going to buy it. The sleeper and the matching blanket. I can’t help it. They’re so soft and yummy, and the baby will love them.

As I pay, the checkout girl asks if I need a gift receipt for the baby clothes. “No.”

“Not a gift?” she persists, showing me where to run my credit card.

“No.”

“You have a baby?”

I flush, nervous, shy. “I’m expecting.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Not your first?” she asks, gesturing to the kid’s clothes she’s just bagged.

“My third.”

“Well, that’s wonderful.” She hands me the shopping bags. “Enjoy.”

“I will.” I’m humming as I leave Kids Gap. I will enjoy this baby. It wasn’t planned, but it’s very wanted.

Driving home, I turn on the radio and suddenly I’m back in Hawaii. Brother Israel’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” comes on.

I love this song and turn it up.

They play this song everywhere in Hawaii, but then, Israel Kamakawiwo’ole is Hawaii.

The first time I heard Brother Iz’s version, it was on the catamaran that very first night I met Kai.

And then they played the song the night we ate at Duke’s.

And in the shopping mall.

They even play the song on the airplane as the jet taxis from Honolulu, and I cry every time I hear it.

I’m crying now.

You don’t know Hawaii until you know Brother Iz’s voice. And you know his version of the song. The song’s played at the end of the movie 50 First Dates, and it’s beautiful, so beautiful, just like Hawaii and Kai and the ocean and the dramatic, jagged green Pali.

I miss him. I miss Hawaii. The pang inside me is so strong, so sharp, and it’s like being homesick and heartsick all at the same time.

I’ve got to talk to Kai. I’ve got to hear his voice and that husky, sexy way he has of laughing and the way he calls me “girl.”

Impulsively, I pick up my cell phone and call his cell. But a voice on the other end of the line tells me his number is no longer in service.