Chapters (79)
- EXT. BALCONY - MALIBU SHORES INN
- MAIN TITLES
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- MALIBU COLONY HOME
- COLONY COFFEE SHOP
- INT. MALIBU COLONY HOME
- INT. BANQUET HALL
- INT. MALIBU COLONY HOUSE,
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. MALIBU COLONY HOME
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. MALIBU COLONY HOME
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- EXT. MALIBU COLONY BEACH
- INT. MALIBU COLONY HOME
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. MALIBU COLONY HOME
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. MALIBU COLONY HOME
- INT. DEPARTMENT STORE, BEVERLY HILLS
- INT. MALIBU COLONY HOME
- INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOME
- INT. BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. BEL AIR MANSION
- EXT. BEVERLY HIGH
- INT. BELAIR MANSION
- LIHUE, HAWAII AIRPORT
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. PEYSER AGENCY
- EXT. FRANKLIN APTS
- INT. SUNSET GOWER STUDIOS
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. SUNSET GOWER STUDIO
- INT. HUGO’S RESTAURANT
- INT. SUNSET GOWER STUDIO
- INT. WINNEBAGO
- INT. BEVERLY HILLS MANSION
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- EXT. THE GATES OF HEAVEN
- EXT. PARAMOUNT STUDIOS
- INT. HOSPITAL ICU
- PARAMOUNT STUDIOS
- CLOSE UP: BRETT HANEY’S FACE
- INT. ICU
- INT. SPAGO RESTAURANT
- INT. JACKIE AND BRETT’S HOUSE
- INT. JACKIE AND BRETT’S KITCHEN
- INT ICU
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. JACKIE AND BRETT’S HOUSE
- INT. JACKIE AND BRETT’S KITCHEN
- INT. JACKIE AND BRETT’S HOUSE
- CLOSE UP: JACKIE’S HAND HOLDING A LETTER
- INT. MEDICAL OFFICE
- INT: HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. SPAGO RESTAURANT
- UNIVERSAL STUDIOS
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- EXT. DOROTHY CHANDLER PAVILION
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. DOROTHY CHANDLER PAVILION
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. BEL AIR MANSION
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. JACKIE AND BRETT’S HOUSE
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. MALIBU SHORES INN
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- INT. MALIBU SHORES INN
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- EXT. MALIBU SHORES INN
- INT. HOSPITAL ROOM
- FADE IN:
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
In the distance, north of the lighthouse, the sun hovered over the horizon right at the spot where the sea met the jagged cliffs of the Napali coast, now silhouetted against an increasingly colorful sky. I pushed my sunglasses onto my head to fully appreciate the view.
Merilee came up beside me and pointed to the farthest tip of the shore. “That is Bali Hai,” she whispered reverently.
For the next half-hour, cars arrived, parking haphazardly along the side of the road. Families poured out of rusted trucks and vans toting blankets and beach chairs. They spread out picnic fare and opened bottles of wine. A guy in a straw hat brought out a steel guitar and serenaded his friends. Children chased one another. Mirabelle pocketed her camera and scampered off with some girls from school.
The sky continued painting itself with streaks of orange and pink and magnificent purples. Everyone rearranged their positions to watch the sun’s descent, its flame spreading across the ocean, turning the blue seas magenta. On cue, the music stopped, the children stilled, and everyone went silent as the sun slowly melted into the horizon. Finally, when the last molten drop disappeared, a collective exhale washed over us, and the crowd broke into spontaneous applause.
Immediately, activities resumed; guitar strumming, families eating and chatting, Mirabelle scampered back to her friends. I couldn’t help but be swept up in the moment, casting a quick smile at Bea and Merilee. We stared out at the Napali for a while longer, but soon the sky began to darken. The magic was over, and we were just us again.
Merilee picked up the remains of our picnic and Bea loaded the chairs back into the trunk of the car and went off in search of Mirabelle.
My mother turned to me, her eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed in a way that suggested she had something of importance to say. I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes and felt my back pocket for the security of my cigarettes.
“Well, there you go Jacqueline,” she said. “If nothing else, you have seen the sunset over Bali Hai.”
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