The Green Flash at Sunset

By June Kramin

While trying to rebuild her life after a horrible breakup, a troubled call from Veronica’s mother about her best friend's disappearance brings her back home to Maui. When a body is eventually found, Veronica withdraws from everyone, including her online forum – her one solace. Over a peaceful sunset, a friend who she only knows by his avatar and user name appears.

Although confused as to why he flew to be with her, she allows his interruption to her misery. Hoping that playing tour guide will be a distraction, their daily drives through the all too familiar scenery only succeeds in causing more memories to surface.

Veronica thought dealing with the murder of her best friend would be the hardest thing she'd have to overcome. She was proven wrong when she discovered she had to deal with the fact that the murder would never be solved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: June Kramin
• Release date: Mar 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310701207

June Kramin

Wife, Mother, Writer, Lunatic. Not necessarily in that order.June, who prefers to go by Bug, was born in Philadelphia but moved to Maui, Hawaii when she was four. She met her “Prince Charming” on Kauai and is currently living “Happily Ever After” on a hobby farm in a small town in Southern Minnesota.Her son and daughter are her greatest accomplishments. She takes pride in embarrassing them every chance she gets.Being hopelessly addicted to 80′s music is her super power.

Book preview

Chapter One

Beach Pout

2008

For over twenty years, I’ve sat here and gazed at the setting sun and have yet to see the green flash everyone talks about. Tourists swear by it, and friends who’ve worked at the restaurant across the street claim they’ve seen it a dozen times over their shifts. I’ve argued many times that it’s a myth. If I haven’t seen one in my Sunset Professional status, it couldn’t exist. Holding my breath with anticipation as the sun disappears from sight, again it mocks me, putting a shitty end to my already miserable day.

When I’m home, this is the beach where I park myself to watch sunsets. My own special piece of home. Sure, there are miles of beaches to choose from, but this is my spot. Joggers and walkers are always a part of the landscape but, oddly, today none bother so much as a glance my way for a smile or hello. I must be wearing my best leave me the hell alone face.

I grew up on Maui in the beautiful state of Hawaii. Although I’m thirty, I use the term grew up loosely.

Maui is truly a paradise I took advantage of far too often. When you always have an abundance of sunshine, beach, and flowers, it’s never appreciated, especially if that’s all you’ve ever known. Having been through a few Minnesota winters over the past few years, I’ve learned to be more appreciative of it with every trip home.

I’ve watched the sunset from this very location for as long as I can remember. Although I no longer live here, this is a ritual I will never give up; I return here faithfully.

The sun sets from behind Kaho’olawe then over to Lanai and back again during the course of the year. As luck would have it, right now, it’s in my favorite place: smack in the middle with nothing to obstruct it. That’s when it’s most beautiful. A big dose of something beautiful is exactly what I need. Unfortunately, I’m not home for pleasure and this particular time of reflection isn’t a happy one.

No flash again. Of course there wouldn’t be one. That would make this a worthwhile pout.

I don’t feel like going home even after the sun has been long gone. Home. That’s funny. My parents moved down the street from where I grew up after my brothers and I moved out, but wherever they are would always be home. I can’t bear the thought of going back to them yet, though.

In all my misery, I hadn’t noticed someone walking over. The silhouette of a man’s body is now obstructing my view, but I’m not moving. I guess this jackwagon hasn’t gotten the memo that this spot is mine. Still not ready to go, I decide to wait it out. He’ll move eventually. They all do.

Great. Now he’s walking toward me. Keep moving, buddy. You’re not getting a conversation out of me. What the hell? Now he’s in front of my face, staring into my eyes.

Hello, he says.

Hello? You say Come here often? and you’re getting a knee to your junk, dude.

I still want him to move, but I might as well enjoy the scenery while it’s there. Not bad. The sky is still light enough, and the streetlights help a little. He’s about my age, maybe a couple years older. Very handsome, sandy brown hair, neatly trimmed. His eyes are kind, and a shade of green you can lose yourself in. Shoulders. Check. Bare chest. Check, check. Nice.

I study his face again. Nope, he doesn’t look familiar to me at all. Every now and then I forget a name, but never a face. This stranger is new to me, still staring, and kind of starting to piss me off. I remember I want to be alone.

Do I know you?

Caw.

Oh my Zeus, it’s you!

He smiles wide. Hi, Bud.

We moved from the beach to the Mexican restaurant across the street and both ordered a margarita. Long gone are the ninety-nine cent happy hour drinks from years ago. This sucker cost me eight bucks. The restaurant has changed hands so many times over the years, I didn’t even bother to pay attention to the name.

I still can’t believe you found me, I say to Clay. Clay is his username and what I call him, even though I know his real name. First name, anyway. We met on an online forum for writers a while back. Although I was an open book (excuse the pun), he never shared much personal information. I never imagined I’d meet him.

Being a fan of the movie Princess Bride, I made my forum handle Princess Buttercup. Mostly Clay calls me PB. Sometimes he shortens the Buttercup to Butt for a tease, but lately, he calls me Bud. Everyone else chimes in with a variety of nicknames and I love it. My real name had taken the natural course from Veronica to Ronnie to Ron. Basically, I’ll answer to anything.

You said it yourself online, Bud. You’re an open book. Bah-duh-buh.

But my beach? How the hell did you pull that off? Please…I’m not in the mood for ‘that’s what she said.’

He laughed. Do you have any idea how many posts you’ve made about Maui? You described this beach perfectly. It wasn’t hard to figure out. You even sent me a passage about it when you were writing your first adult fiction. Remember? You tried women’s fiction for a time, before you decided to stick to kids’ fantasy. You said something about never being able to publish something your mother couldn’t read. In that passage, you even named the three beaches. I saved the private message you sent me with those couple paragraphs from the story. I often wondered why you sent it to me of all people, but I’m glad you did.

I laugh hard at my stupidity, almost sending Red Bull-laced margarita through my nose. I guess I do remember sending you that. I don’t know why I did. Maybe I wanted you to tell me it was crap, so I’d quit. You had to go and like it. Maybe someday I’ll add to it again.

Him here. Now. Remembering that scene about my sunset pout. This is all too much to take at once. I need to gather my thoughts and take another sip. Yup, they still suck here. Ahh, youth was wasted all right. Literally. Right here on Friday and Saturday nights at happy hour. The evening breeze off the water is heavenly tonight. My gaze returns to the beach.

So, when was the funeral?

A sigh I didn’t mean to let out escapes before I take another sip and say, Today.

Ouch. I’m really sorry, Bud.

Thanks. I still don’t understand why he’s here. Why are you here? How did you end up on Maui? You can’t tell me you were worried enough to fly here to try to find me. I’m the one who says, ‘I love you.’ You just call me a dork.

That’s because you are a dork. He’s grinning now. I came for the writers’ conference everyone was talking about. I thought I’d give it a try. I got a great last-minute fare on my ticket.

You didn’t message me you were coming.

If I didn’t find you, I would have. You weren’t replying to me, anyway. Somehow I knew I’d find you in your spot.

I hardly look like that picture I posted. I’m surprised you recognized me.

You look exactly like the picture you posted. Not to mention, you were the only buck ten blonde who was fully clothed, obviously deep in thought, and staring at a sunset that was long over. He pauses. Are you hanging in there?

It’s been a hard couple of weeks, but I’ll be okay, really. I’m fine.

He stares deeply into my eyes, not buying it for a second. You are so full of shit. Come on, let’s get out of here and get a real dinner. He stands and reaches for my hand.

We don’t have to go far to find a place I recognize. So many restaurants are new, but this one has managed to remain unchanged. If it has new owners, they kept the name. I remember this place has great teriyaki steaks. Steaks aren’t usually my meal of choice, but I need something to soak up the cheap tequila. Hell. I don’t even remember when or what I ate last.

As we climb the stairs, the atmosphere is familiar and comforting. A local band is playing soft music in the corner, as always. A poster outside advertises the band as a mix of Hawaiian tunes, 80s and 90s hits, and some original songs. Of course, I know one of the band members and walk over for a big hug and kiss hello. He’s married, but I’m entitled. We’d been classmates since kindergarten.

Aloha, Kalani. I practically moan, feeling great comfort in his embrace.

It’s good to see you home, Ron, he replies, holding me equally tight. Unreal about Janell.

This is Mike. I break the hug, gesturing to my new friend. I’m not ready to discuss Janell.

Aloha. Kalani shakes his hand. You from around here or did Ronnie sink her teeth into another tourist already?

"No, you kolohe bastard, I say as I glare at Kalani playfully. I met him online." Kolohe is Hawaiian for naughty. Kalani is half Hawaiian, but it doesn’t matter. A lot of the everyday words here are Hawaiian, Filipino, Portuguese and a few other languages. I can cuss you out in at least eight different languages with proper inflections. Nothing but the finest education for me. Catholic school or not, we were a street educated bunch. I wasn’t exactly sure what the man said crudely to me in Filipino outside the liquor store last night, but telling him his pecker stunk in his own language shut him the hell up. Oh yeah. Great to be home.

"You resorted to an online service? Kalani said. I thought you had them lining up."

He’s just a friend, gutter brain. I jab at his stomach to show Clay I’m upset, but I’m not really. I do have kind of a well-deserved reputation. Even my aunt teased that I moved away because there wasn’t anyone left to sleep with. Okay, a little exaggerated, but I laughed.

Okay, okay. He laughs. I’ve missed picking on you. I hate to run, but we gotta start the next set. I’ll have a surprise for you later. He gives me a wink before extending his hand to Clay again. Nice meeting you, man.

You, too. Clay turns to me. "Nice guy. Another tourist, huh?"

Tourists. The other white meat. Keeping my face as serious as possible, I casually shrug and walk toward an outside table that overlooks the ocean. It’s dark out, but still beautiful. There isn’t a cloud in sight; the night sky is filled with stars. The restaurant sits on top of a mall right across the street from another beach. Of course the view is postcard perfect; not much isn’t around here. Hotels border the beach from each side. They have spotlights shining the length of the flawless white sand shoreline.

A waitress comes over to take our drink order. I stand for another hug and kiss hello. I used to work with Amber at a hotel in Makena. She’s moved on from breakfast shift to dinners, or maybe she still does both. I used to have shifts like that; it sucked. Living here was never easy on the bank account. Thank God for tips.

Again, I melt in her warm island hello. That’s what I miss most about the islands. Hellos are always a hug and kiss, not an awkward smile and sometimes a handshake. Aloha Spirit is what it’s called; loving someone you hardly know with all your heart is what it feels like. I love how children smile and come over for a hug and say, Hi, Auntie! when they’ve never even met me before. Everyone is Auntie or Uncle, related or not. My heart swells with love when I’m home. Reluctantly, I release my hold.

Clay and I share a peaceful meal with friendly banter and pleasantries. He obviously doesn’t want to cross any lines, and I’m certainly not going to open up on my own.

So, you want to talk about it? he finally asks after we’re finished eating. Dammit. Break’s over.

"There’s not really much to say. I don’t do death well, but who does? It’s a bit much. I don’t usually do coming home well either. I bitch about not wanting to be here but get choked up when the plane lands. It’s especially hard now, being here and knowing she isn’t, and won’t ever be again. My fondest memories here are ones with her."

I’m really sorry, Bud. It has to be tough. He reaches for my hand. We’ve missed you at the Café.

I’ve missed everyone, too. It’s funny how that bunch has become family. I can’t bring myself to log on or even do any e-mailing yet. I don’t want a pity party; I just need my alone time. I pause for a bit and gaze at him, again in disbelief. I still can’t believe I’m actually talking to you face-to-face. I have given you so much flak. You’re a real trooper, Battery. More often than calling him by his username, I usually call him by his avatar. Unlike many other members who change their avatar often, he has never swayed from his Energizer 9-volt battery.

He lets out a Pffft that sends me into a laughing spree that takes a while to control. All I can do is reply with, R—O—T—F—L—A—M—O!

You know, you don’t need to spell it when I’m right here seeing it. And technically, Bud, you said ‘Rolling on the floor laughing ass my off.’

I laugh hard again. You’re a bloody acronym genius. Anyway, sorry. I couldn’t help it. You always write ‘Pffftt’; it’s too funny you really do it. Damn, this is nice. It feels good to laugh.

Then the trip was worth it. So, tell me.

Tell you what?

Open up, Bud. You need to talk if you’re going to feel better. Something’s bothering you.

I need more than a friend dying? My smile fades as I return my attention back to the ocean. Then I close my eyes. I’m not ready.

No, I guess not, but I wish you’d talk to me.

Cecelio and Kapono’s About You reaches me loud and clear. Dammit. Kalani remembered I love this song. I’ve requested it at least a thousand times. Of course he’d play it for me. I love music of all genres and have over five thousand songs on my laptop. This one song, however, has always remained my favorite. It isn’t just my favorite island tune; it’s my favorite song of all time. Janell and I practically burned a hole in the CD from playing it so much, and that only after I replaced the cassette tape from wear.

Again I sigh, embarrassed as I hear myself. I’m beginning to sense I’m not going to be able to go anywhere or be with anyone without thinking of Janell.

Other couples begin dancing. Clay stands, offering me his hand. My smile returns as I happily accept it. On the dance floor, I take comfort in his strong embrace. I’m home where I know almost the entire population and could have had the company of anyone, but I have chosen to spend this time alone. I’m surprised I’m not more bothered with the intrusion on my sulking. Actually, I rather enjoy sharing it with the one I love to pick on the most in my writing forum.

As we dance, I silently reminisce on the places Janell and I had parked, gazing at the stars, listening to this song. Sometimes we needed to get away from the crowd getting too rowdy and have some alone time.

The next song is a bad cover of Gloria Estefan. It breaks me out of my thoughts, and I lead Clay back to the table.

They weren’t doing so badly until that song, Clay says.

I like their local music best. They usually do the Top Forty stuff okay, too. When they play in town for the locals instead of at a tourist place, they go by the name ‘Sofa Kingdom.’

Sofa Kingdom? That’s a weird name for a band.

You have to say it one syllable at a time.

He sounds it out, So-fa-king-dumb. He grins. You want another drink?

Umm, I think not. Let’s get out of here. I have another secret spot. Want to go with me? I promise I’ll behave myself, Battery.

Lead the way, Bud.

Chapter Two

Meeting Tad

2004

Shortly after my twenty-sixth birthday, I moved to Kauai. I needed a change of pace. Mostly, I needed to put a little distance between myself and my old life. There were too many failed relationships and memories on Maui. I grew tired of running into someone I’d dated everywhere I went. The coconut wireless was even worse. That’s what we call the word-of-mouth story-spreading. It’s always been faster than any media could have ever been. One girl in particular, Grace, was always a thorn in my behind. What are the three forms of communication? Telephone, Television, and tell Grace. It was the running joke, and it wasn’t far from the truth. Grace always took it upon herself to tell me what an old boyfriend was doing, who she saw one of them with, and so on. I wanted a clean slate, a new life, and to be where I didn’t know everyone.

My best friend, Keoki, the one I called my security blanket, was who I was going to miss most. But he needed to move on as much as I did. The two of us were starting to lean too much on each other and he deserved a shot with a great woman. He would never do that if he always insisted on being there for me. I had to cut the link because I knew he never would.

A few days after getting settled in at a small studio apartment, I ran into a friend I knew from Maui at the grocery store. We laughed at the irony of it. We’d teased before about how we couldn’t go anywhere and not see someone we knew from Maui. We discussed recent trips to Oahu and mutual friends we each ran into there.

I knew Denise from a previous job. We were more acquaintances than friends. Denise had frequented one of the restaurants I worked at. We spent a lot of nights talking during band breaks and slow times, but we never did other things together socially. Although I’d moved to get a fresh start, I welcomed the familiar face. After a few weeks of being on Kauai, I hadn’t yet ventured out to make new friends. Denise gave me directions to her house and invited me to a cookout that night.

Don’t bring anything except yourself, Denise said. There will be plenty of food.

I happily accepted the invitation and added the makings of my favorite salad and some beer into the grocery cart to bring over. I’ve done more than my share of questionable things in my life but showing up empty-handed when invited to someone’s house was not one of them.

Arriving at Denise’s brought me a smorgasbord of yum, and I’m not talking food. The place was filled with fifteen young men with crew cuts. A couple of them were still in their navy-blue uniforms with their names on one side of their chests and US Coast Guard on the other.

Yummy, Denise, I teased when I entered the house. Are these for me?

Yeah, right. I don’t recommend the military life. I’d steer away from this bunch. They’re the rowdiest I’ve seen yet.

Just then, the tallest one walked between us with an, Excuse me, ladies, and went to the refrigerator to retrieve the steaks for the grill. He wasn’t in a uniform.

Except for this one. He was too smart to enlist. Too bad for you though, he’s mine. She gave his butt a firm grasp.

That’s not your husband, Denise. I laughed. Denise was obviously having fun; the man didn’t seem to mind one bit.

Oh, my bad. Did I grab the wrong ass again? Ronnie, this is Tad. Tad, this is my friend from Maui, Ronnie.

Very nice to meet you, he said as he dropped a hand from the serving platter, wiped it on his jeans and took my hand. I expected a quick handshake, but instead, he gave it a kiss.

My, my, aren’t we pouring it on a bit thick? I said, reclaiming my hand. I hated judging him for doing that, but that gesture always seemed so fake. In my head I was calling him an asshole, but I tried to be personable. So, if you’re not in the Coast Guard, what do you do, Tad?

I’m with the DNR. We occasionally need each other. It’s best to keep on civil terms. Speaking of which, I need to excuse myself, ladies. I’ve got to get the man his meat. He winked as he left us.

Wow, I said, watching him walk away. That ass really makes it hard for me to stay upset. I may have to put my attitude in check. Are you sure you don’t want to spare that one?

I thought you said you were swearing off men.

Did I say that out loud?

Yes.

Sucks to be me. All right. It’s your turn to babysit me, then. Hey! Where are Peaches and Cream? If I can’t play with the boys, at least I can play with the cats.

They’re hiding in my room from the guests. Come on. Sweet of you to remember their names.

Who could forget those names? Only my friend Ian’s dogs, Astro and Turf, beat them.

We got through the bedroom door with Denise immediately doing her kitty call. I joined in once the cats came running. They weren’t shy with me at all. I’d only seen them once, when Denise and I ran into each other on her way to a vet appointment. They were the first Scottish Folds I’d ever seen.

They have got to be the world’s cutest cats. I picked up Peaches and nuzzled nose to nose