Rain Forest Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

honey, which made her certain that she’d be breathing more freely soon.
    A copper teakettle sat on an old-fashioned stove in the corner. A plume of steam already rose from its spout.
    Darby didn’t have much faith in home remedies, but Tutu moved with the competence of a pharmacist. She reached up to one of the shelves lining the cottage walls, took down a glass jar, and held it at eye level before measuring dried leaves into a green teapot.
    Vapor clouded the corner as Tutu poured boiling water into the pot.
    â€œNow that will steep,” Tutu said, then gestured widely. “Please, have a look around.”
    Darby laced her fingers together behind her back, feeling awkward. A glance showed her no television, telephone, or computer, but she noticed a lei-draped, black-and-white photograph of a man. He looked a lot like Jonah.
    â€œYour great-grandfather,” Tutu said, as if she was introducing them. “A scallywag and a smuggler with a million schemes, but I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for pirates.”
    Darby didn’t know what to say to that. It was a strangely, well, romantic thing to hear from an old lady.
    â€œI love my little house,” Tutu said, looking around.
    â€œMe too,” Darby managed.
    â€œIt was a sugar plantation house at one time. Housing for the workers, not the bosses,” Tutu said as Darby looked around. “It had neighbors, but after the tsunami, only this one was left.”
    â€œTsunami?” Darby said. They had earthquakes in Southern California, but Darby thought tsunamis were worse, kind of like an earthquake and flood combined.
    And then her gaze settled on Tutu. Was it safe for a woman of her years to live all alone in a tsunami zone?
    â€œIt happened nearly a hundred years ago,” Tutu reassured Darby, as if she’d spoken her concern. “But these are young islands—formed by fire, shaped by earthquakes, floods, and yes, tsunamis, and I’d live here even if such events happened every week.”
    â€œWhy?” Darby asked.
    â€œCivilization has nothing to offer me. What do I need with video games when I’m entertained by the weather, plants, and animals? Why should I carry a cell phone when visitors stop in with the news? I don’t even need a doorbell. The birds told me you were walking the path to my door.”
    As Tutu moved to pour their tea into mugs, she waved Darby toward a wooden table and chairs.
    â€œSit down. After you’ve had some tea, if you have the breath for it, I’d love for you to tell me how your sweet mother is doing. I miss her.”
    Darby settled into a chair, feeling strangely athome. White curtains framed her view of Navigator and Hoku, still side by side, and she heard their teeth grinding grass.
    As she tried to come up with things Tutu would want to hear about Mom, Darby’s eyes took in the bolts of colorful cloth on one shelf and the books on another. Small trees grew in pottery bowls. A blue glass jar held water and stones. A green one was half full of shells. Growing plants sent roots among the stones and shells, and vines cascaded to the floor.
    â€œYou know, she used to ride out and visit me like this,” Tutu said as she set a saucer of lemon slices and a honeypot on the table. “But it’s been, oh, fifteen years or more.”
    Darby took a sip from the pottery cup as soon as her great-grandmother handed it to her. She tried to picture her mother riding out here as she’d just done. The image was hazy, but the idea made her happy.
    As Tutu sat down to drink her own tea, Darby said, “She looks like you.”
    Tutu didn’t sound surprised. “Kealoha women keep their family resemblance, no matter the men we marry.”
    Transfixed by the tendrils of steam swirling up from the tea, Darby described her mother’s roller-coaster acting career, her divorce, and her longing to live at the beach, even though it meant home was on