Kona Night

 

I had just finished the last of my three songs I sang with my father's jazz quartet at the Sheraton Kona Resort on the big island of Hawaii when I saw her. I was aware of a woman at a table not far from the bandstand but didn't really see her completely until my spotlight dissolved to the general club lighting. She was applauding and wearing the big smile that adults usually gave me after my set that said, "Aw, isn't she just adorable?" It was difficult to tell how old the woman was but she oozed elegance, had perfect hair, and the slit in her skit, that went all the way to "there," revealed muscled tan legs.

I was 15 years old. My father, who was a fine jazz keyboard man, often took me on his gigs because, I think, he felt guilty about being away from home so much. He always had me sing at least three songs with the quartet so he could deduct my plane tickets and hotel rooms from his taxes. Daddy was smart that way. I didn't mind. I got to see a lot of the world as a teen and I enjoyed performing. I liked the spotlight and the costumes.

Judy Garland's "Get Happy" was my third song that night. The setup was I'd sing two songs, then come back for an "encore" of the Garland tuner. It was up, flashy and it gave me an opportunity to dance happily off of the bandstand at the end. So, I did, making my exit through the club to the huge open patio of the Sheraton Resort.

It was about 10:00 pm as my bit was near the end of the quartet's first set. Daddy would be playing for another 2-3 hours depending on the crowd so I was on my own for the rest of the evening. I was walking back to my room to change out of the little sequined party dress that was my costume when I heard a silky, smokey voice behind me say, "I enjoyed your singing tonight." Without turning, somehow, I knew it was the woman with the slit skirt and perfect hair.

And so it began. I didn't get back to the room until just before I knew my daddy would be there. The woman talked to me, not like how adults, as a rule, talk to 15-year-olds, but she engaged me, drew me out, listened to me, and showed interest in everything about me. We walked and walked around the resort. There is no beach at the resort, but there are patios and walkways across the lava to the golf course. We took our shoes off and bare-footed a couple of fairways ending up on a green that overlooked the ocean.

Her name was April. She was single (just divorced) and a representative for a company that provided the specialty spa products that were sold under the Sheraton Spa label. She had just completed landing a new contract and was taking a brief holiday. She was 40, but like Demi Moore or Elizabeth Banks, she was timeless. With her beauty and fitness, I could easily have mistaken her for a model.

I was a bit in awe of her and confused and flattered that she would take an interest in me. I was kind of cute in my party dress, true, but was still mostly flat-chested, my curves were non-existent and I had unruly curly red hair. We talked and listened to the sea, gazed at the stars until I told her I had to get back to the room.

As she walked me back to the main patio area, she took my hand in hers. I remember looking at our hands, fingers entwined, and wondering what that meant. We stopped at the main patio, as our rooms were in opposite directions. Still holding my hand, she asked, "Would you like to go kayaking tomorrow?"

Daddy had to go to the Hilton Waikoloa for a lunch thing the next day, so I knew I had the day off to play. "Sure," I blurted! We agreed to meet early and find breakfast at food trucks along the way to Kealakekua Bay to kayak to the Captain Cook Monument there. I asked how we would get there and she smiled mischievously, saying only it would be a surprise. As she let go of my hand she leaned in close to me and kissed me on the cheek, a soft but lingering peck. Then she whispered, "sleep tight" and glided away.

A few long seconds later I remembered to breathe.