Congratulations to Rebecca Bailey for her winning comment over at the Queen of Chaos.
Today, in honor of Valentine’s Day, there is not a stop on the Bumpy Landings blog tour. Instead, I’m taking part in the Romance Blogfest hosted by Jordan McCollum.
Jordan MacDonald eased the rusty old van into a too-small parking space and quickly killed the engine. He glanced at his watch and groaned—the perfect chance to make a good impression, and he was late.
Squeezing himself out of the van, he inched past the faded flowers painted on its side and began running through the parking garage.
As he reached the road in front of Honolulu International Airport, he heard a small plane fly overhead. Instinctively he glanced up but found his view of the sky blocked by the interisland terminal building.
Shaking his head, Jordan darted across the road and through the doors.
The baggage claim area bustled with people greeting one another and hurrying toward the exit, most of them locals with dark skin and hair. During the two years he’d spent in Oregon, Jordan had forgotten what it was like to be in the minority. Now that he was home, however, his fair skin and light blonde hair set him apart from many of the people around him.
Pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket, Jordan set off to find his passenger. Normally, his trip to the airport as the driver for Pua’s Tuberose flower shop would only involve picking up boxes of roses and strange alien-looking protea shipped in from Maui. But today he was doing a favor for his Hawaiian coworker, Malia, by picking up her Auntie Kehau.
Jordan had known Malia before his mission, although at the time she had been just one of his sister’s stupid little friends. She had grown up nicely in the two years he’d been gone, though, and Jordan practically tripped over himself offering to help her out. But now he was late and in danger of messing up the whole excursion.
Taking his paper to one of the arrival monitors, Jordan scanned the list, looking for Hawaiian Air flight 181 from Hilo, so he could see which baggage carousel they had used. Hopefully Auntie Kehau would still be there waiting.
When he found the flight information, Jordan learned the plane had left nearly half an hour late, which meant it wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes. He exhaled, letting his shoulders relax. This errand for
Malia needed to go well. Jordan had developed a bit of a crush on her, even though she told everyone who would listen that she was waiting for Robert Tu’aia and planned to marry him when his mission ended the next year.
It was probably Malia’s devotion to her missionary that gave Jordan the nerve to talk to her at all. He’d always been quite shy around girls, especially if he had any romantic interest for them.
Jordan had been particularly concerned when his mom got him a job in a flower shop with three attractive coworkers, afraid he’d spend every day as a red-faced, babbling idiot.
But Malia was waiting for Robert. Amber, the tall blonde volleyball star, already had a large male following, and Jordan didn’t even consider her a prospect. And his boss, Lani, was cute—with her short dark hair and thick New Zealand accent—but she had to be pushing forty. So, without any romantic pressure, he found himself able to function quite well and actually enjoyed the job.
After making his way to baggage claim C on the far end of the terminal, Jordan stopped and sat down to wait. The luggage from several other interisland flights crowded the carousel, and dozens of travelers met their loved ones, many receiving flower leis and the traditional kiss on the cheek. Jordan looked at the lei Malia had sent with him for Auntie Kehau. It was a double strand tuberose lei—the namesake of Pua’s
Tuberose flower shop. The long, creamy, trumpetshaped blooms were known more for their scent than their appearance, and Jordan couldn’t help but open the bag to sneak a whiff of their rich, spicy aroma.
The smell brought back a flood of memories: greetings, partings, special events, and a particularly disastrous prom night. That was a long time ago, thought Jordan. You’re a different man now. Although just how different still remained to be seen.
Jordan checked his watch and realized the people from flight 181 would be arriving at any moment. He stood and began looking for his passenger. He didn’t have much to go on—just a name, a flight number, and a vague description: “She’s about my height, with shoulder-length black hair,” Malia had told him before he left. It didn’t take long for Jordan to spot a woman matching this description.
In fact, he quickly saw several dozen women about Malia’s height with shoulder-length black hair.
This was not going to be as easy as he first thought. He looked at the paper and read through the scant information again, hoping to find something that might help his search, but he had nothing. He reached for his cell phone to call Malia but found it missing from his pocket. With a twinge of panic, he realized he’d probably left it plugged in at home, and with no way to call Malia, he’d have to find Auntie Kehau on his own.
Nearby, a group of kids in purple T-shirts clustered around a big man holding a sign that read Pearl City Elementary, and Jordan had a flash of inspiration. Hurrying to a rental car counter, he asked the man behind the desk, “Do you have a piece of paper and a marker I could use?” The man pulled a nearly blank sheet from a stack near his printer and then rummaged around in his desk before handing Jordan a large, red Sharpie.
Jordan thanked the man and then copied the name from Malia’s little scrap, starting out neatly but cramming the last half of “Pulakaumaka” against the right side of the page. He returned the pen and made his way to baggage carousel C, where he stood with his makeshift sign, smiling at every middle-aged, dark-haired woman who passed. He got a lot of smiles in return, but nobody stopped.
As he looked over the crowd, he noticed a girl across the baggage claim eyeing him. She was a local girl about his age, and quite attractive.
He smiled at her nervously, and she smiled back, filling Jordan with a mixture of excitement and panic.
The girl turned her attention to her backpack, from which she produced a cell phone. As Jordan continued his search for Auntie Kehau, he kept stealing glances back at this girl. After a few minutes, she put her phone away and wheeled her suitcase toward him. His heart pounded in his chest as she approached, and he thought to himself, You’re a different man, now. You can do this! Gathering all of his courage, Jordan managed a smile and said, “Hi.”
“Hi, Jordan,” she replied.
Jordan drew in a quick breath. How did she know his name? He searched his memory frantically but couldn’t remember ever meeting this girl before. He looked at her luggage for a clue but without success.
Finally he had to admit defeat. “Um, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “What was your name again?”
The girl raised her eyebrows and then smiled. She took the sign from his hand and held it under her chin so that the top of the paper brushed her black, shoulder length hair.
Jordan had found Auntie Kehau.
