The next morning, he caught a bus to the other
side of the city.
He walked up Alewa Drive in bright sunshine, enjoying the view of the
city and the ocean which grew in immensity as he climbed. The higher he
got, the more vast the ocean became and the smaller the island, until
he began to sense that he was standing on a happy accident, a green
miracle in a marine world. The planes taking off from the airport below
him looked puny. It was an added pleasure to turn away from the Pacific
to the street, to the plumeria, the bougainvillea, and the different
shades of green. Doves called. There was little traffic.
The street bent higher around a switchback curve. A pickup was parked
in front of a wall and a gate which bore the number Oliver was seeking.
Two heavyset men wearing shorts, T-shirts, and baseball caps were
easing a boulder from the truck bed onto an impromptu ramp of
two-by-sixes. A woman with trim graying hair and tanned cheeks watched.
The planks sagged ominously.
"She hold?"
"Plenty strong."
"Damn--stuck. Excuse me, Mrs. Nakano."
"I've heard worse," she said. Oliver approached and braced one shoulder
against the rock.
"What is this?" one man said.
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