The bungalow blocked any view of them from the road or clearing. But they faced a tangled wall of bushes and knobby trees and flowers with leaves longer and broader than anything in Europe.

“Follow close,” she whispered like a squad leader, and took off.

***

Farther down Alii Drive stood a quaint little church not much bigger than a shed. It had white wood siding, teal trim, and a corrugated roof, and it looked out over a small rocky inlet. ST. PETER’S CATHOLIC CHURCH BY THE SEA, it read on a gable above the door. Lett and Kanani were still panting, hands on their hips. Sea birds landed to watch them inhale the brackish sea air.

The door was open. Kanani went inside. Lett followed, and they wandered around the twelve blue pews, Lett squinting at the gloss white paint and altar window brighter than outside. Kanani placed her carpetbag on the last pew and they met there. She only now slid her feet into her rubber sandals, what she called “slippahs.”

“You know your terrain,” he said to her.

“You kept up.”

Sweat was rolling down her face. Back behind the bungalow he’d seen no hole in that wall of green flora, but she shot right through one, darting this way and that through more holes and passages in the foliage, and he matched her steps as best as he could. The greenery soon became a grove of knotty dry trees so dense they had to turn sideways to get through. She’d held his hand to guide him. Her breath was hot and metallic from a fear she hadn’t shown before.

“A church, that’s the last place anyone expects to find me,” she said, adding a chuckle.

She sat on the edge of the nearest pew, wiping the sweat off her face.

Lett sat with her, facing her. Their knees were touching. A cool breeze was floating in through the doorway and it danced in her hair. He let the wonder overwhelm him like it should have last night in the bungalow. He imagined her pulling herself onto his lap, and her tongue finding his, and her sweat would come rolling back, and it would’ve tasted sweet.

She smiled. They held hands, and she pulled him to her.

“I’m married,” he muttered. He showed her the silver ring on his finger.

“Ho ka, what dis?” she said in Pidgin. “Us island folks, no wear ring when marry.”

They laughed. She added a bittersweet smile. But their smiles faded, and Kanani eventually pulled herself away, mercifully so because he wasn’t finding the willpower.

Kanani stared out the window at the water. Clearly, she was considering something she hadn’t before.

“Who’s Frankie?” Lett said.

She ignored him.

“You weren’t expecting him.”

“Uh-uh, no sir. Luckily, mokes like them don’t know Big Island better than one haole.”

“So they’re from Honolulu, too?”

Again she ignored him, still looking out.