Chapter 53—Brekka

Rob beams at me, and stuffs his harness back into his bag. I follow him outside and we hail a cab. Rob helps me transfer into the cab and then breaks Gladys down and stores her in the trunk. It’s only five minutes to Wai Koa. Rob pays the cab driver and unloads Gladys for me.

“Where are we going to leave her?” I ask.

“That depends on you,” he says. “This trail is also a bike trail, so you can probably do most of it with her. Or I can load you up right away. I don’t mind either way, but since you don’t have handles, I won’t be able to push you easily.”

“Wait, is that mini golf?” I ask.

“Yep, Anaina Hou Community Park is a privately owned property, and the mini golf spot is where we sign a waiver so they don’t worry we’ll sue them. It’s also a mahogany farm. Cool, right?”

I transfer into Gladys and wheel away from the cab a little reluctantly. “What’s our plan to get back to the hotel?”

Rob waves at the cabbie. “He’s going to come back for us in an hour and a half. If we aren’t done yet, which we likely won’t be, he’ll wait.”

I have to give Rob credit. He did his homework. “Alright, well, what’s your suggestion, since you’re the one spearheading this date.”

He beams at my use of the word date. “Our fourth official date, if you’re counting, which I am.”

His attitude may be contagious.

“But since you asked, and since it’s summer and that’s the dry season here, I’d suggest you move on your own steam through the Kilauea Woods and past the Mahogany Plantation. If you’re willing to let me carry you past that, I can make the loop around from the Junction, past the Community Gardens, the fruit farms, and the Lagoon. I doubt the Stone Dam is open, but if it is, photos of that look amazing. Then we head past the guava orchard, and on out. There’s a restaurant that’s sometimes open if you’re hungry or need to use the facilities. I’d be happy to jog back down and grab Gladys for you.”

“You did think this through,” I say.

He shrugs. “I believe in planning ahead whenever possible.”

“Let’s go, then.”

There are ruts where bikes have churned the mud in rainy season, but it’s not too bad to navigate in Gladys. The ground is open, and lush as Hawaii is known to be, especially Kauai. By the time we reach the Kilauea Woods, I’ve broken out in a sweat, but it’s worth it. When we approach the Mahogany forest, maybe a mile past the entry, the sight of hundreds and hundreds of Mahogany trees planted in perfect rows, shooting upward from the path absolutely floors me. I stop moving and take it in. Eighty-six thousand Honduran Mahogany trees on two hundred acres. Breathtaking.

No one else is on the trail, and it’s utterly quiet. The air is heavy, but fresh, and the temperature is perfect, which Kauai is sort of known for, so I’m not surprised.

Rob doesn’t ask whether I’m alright. He simply squats down next to me and looks at the trees, soaking it in silently. When I start forward again, he does too. Never pressuring, never coaxing or rushing me, and not blathering to fill the air. It’s comforting and calm and I love every second of it.

I love Rob.

I said it last night, but I’d say it again today, over and over. I’d never in a million years have chosen this activity, this nightmare of an event that challenges me and the box I fit into now, but I’m glad I came. I’m glad that tonight, when guests ask me what I did today, I can tell them we hiked the Wai Koa Loop.

How Trig’s mouth will drop.

I encounter a few muddy spots as we near the Junction, and I’m happy enough to retire Gladys to the security of a large flowering bush. “Not that anyone’s going to steal a wheelchair,” I say.

But if they did, I’d be devastated.

“Better to make sure there’s no temptation or confusion,” Rob says. “Water won’t hurt her, right?”

“Nope.” I sit calmly on the ground while Rob stows Gladys, and attaches his harness. He hands me a water bottle while I wait.

“Where’d that come from?” I ask.

“The harness doesn’t fill the entire backpack, goose.”

“Goose?”

“Worse than Kiki?” he asks. “Or better?”

I love that he’s trying on nicknames for me. “I didn’t hate Kiki,” I say, “but goose is better.” I have no idea why it’s better, but it is. Maybe because it’s something people say to kids with fondness, and I never had that. Mom never called us any silly names, and my dad called me sweetheart consistently. Still does. I wish he didn’t use the same nickname for all his girlfriends. It feels like he can’t keep more than one term of endearment straight, and I hate being lumped in with them.

“Let’s try it for a while, then,” he says, “Goose.”

I giggle.

He squats in front of me. “Ready?”

I reach my arms around his neck and he lifts me up, fastening my legs into the straps one at a time. “You sure you’re down for this?” I ask. “A hundred pounds gets heavy pretty quick.”

He laughs. “You know there are porters in Peru who carry more than this and they weigh a third less than I do.”

I sigh. “If you’re sure.”

“Trust me. This will be a good workout, but nothing that I’m unprepared for. Wai Koa’s not a hard hike, and there’s basically no elevation.”

I squeeze my arms around his enormous shoulders and kiss his cheek. “Alright, my big ox, let’s go then.”

“An ox and a goose?” he asks. “It makes no sense, so of course I love it.”

So do I.

But not as much as I love the feel of Rob carrying me at a jog along the trail.

“The Stone Dam,” he says, not even sounding winded, “is supposed to be the coolest thing on this entire hike, but it’s been down for renovations or something for a while. I guess the trail gets too slippery.”

From the safety of Rob’s back, I watch the foliage fly past. From flowering plants to palm trees and fiery red trees I’ve never seen before, the trail boasts some stunning vegetation. I only wish I knew more about plants. I can identify a few of the fruit trees when we pass the Kauai Fresh Farms. And the lagoon isn’t quite what I’d expected, but even if it’s small, it’s still lovely.

When a tiny blue sign comes into sight, I read it out loud. “Don’t lose your head.”

Fifty yards down, there’s another sign.

“To gain a minute,” Rob reads.

Another sign up ahead. I read, “You need your head.”

Rob laughs when he sees the last one. “Your brain is in it.” His shoulders shake. “Not the wittiest author, but entertaining, at least. And hey, it rhymes.”