Fractured Slipper Read online

  Fractured Slipper

  presented by Fairy Tale Ink

  Adrienne Monson

  Angela Corbett

  Lehua Parker

  Angela Brimhall

  Tork Media

  Contents

  Introduction

  Lehua Parker

  Rell Goes Hawaiian

  Angela Corbett

  Scattered Cinders

  Adrienne Monson

  The Wrong Foot

  Angela Brimhall

  Time After Time

  Afterword

  Introduction

  Fairy Tale Ink is a group of independent authors who write in different genres. But we have a couple of things in common: we love fairy tales and have always wanted to write our own retold versions. Since our desires lined up perfectly, we decided to do a series of anthologies. That way, readers can find one set of their favorite fairy tale, and read a few different versions of it.

  We look forward to retelling more classic fairy tales and would love to hear what you think of the stories we have published so far. Please post reviews on any channel you frequent. If you’d like to learn more about the authors and their other works, or would like to see more information on our other anthologies releasing soon, please visit our site www.FairyTaleInkBooks.com.

  Rell Goes Hawaiian

  Lehua Parker

  Rell Goes Hawaiian

  Magic Realism

  by

  Lehua Parker

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2018 by Lehua Parker, LLC

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior return permission of the publisher.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy or copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the author at

  [email protected]

  First edition eBook published by Tork Media in Fractured Slipper, a Fairy Tale Ink boxed set.

  Printed in the United States of America

  This title is available as an eBook, paperback, and audiobook.

  For island girls who wear a different kind of slipper.

  Chapter 1

  The guy in the cargo shorts and polo shirt shakes his head. “No matter how hard you cram, it’s not going to fit.”

  I’m standing in the rental car parking lot at the Honolulu International Airport trying not to cry. Next to me are twin stacks of boxes piled higher than my shoulders, each stamped with Watanabe Global—Rush Delivery—Extremely Fragile. Looking at the orange Mini Cooper Convertible in front of me, I’d be hard pressed to fit even my single carry-on in the trunk.

  I have less than two hours to get everything across the island before my wicked stepmonster erupts and rains hot lava all over me.

  Who am I kidding? Even if I pull off this this miracle, she’ll still blow her top.

  The rental agent shrugs his shoulders. “You’re going to need something much larger. Why’d your company reserve this?”

  I sigh. “Because I asked for it.”

  “A Mini?”

  “A convertible. I had this image of driving through paradise with the top down.”

  “You didn’t know about the boxes?”

  “Nope. This is Regina’s way of getting back at me.”

  “Regina—”

  “Regina Watanabe.”

  “Of Watanabe Global?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re her assistant?”

  “Stepdaughter.”

  He checks his tablet. “The reservation is for R. Watanabe.”

  “That’s me. The R is for Rell, not Regina.”

  “Got it. You’re here for the auction?”

  I nod.

  “The whole island’s talking about it. It’s a big deal,” he says.

  I wave my hand at the boxes. “There’s not going to be an auction unless I can get these boxes to the venue. Talk to me about renting a truck or van.”

  He tippy-taps on his tablet for a moment and frowns. “We don’t have anything on the lot. I have a van due back in six hours, but that’s no help.” A few more taps. “Looks like none of the other agencies have trucks or vans available, either.”

  I feel tears start to well again, but there’s no way I’m going to let something Regina did make me cry. When Daddy died six years ago, I swore whatever happened, I’d never give her that satisfaction again. She thinks banishing me to a tiny all-girls prep school is torture, but I know the Christmases and summers I spent on campus with the headmaster’s family were warmer than any celebration at home.

  Wherever that is.

  I almost feel sorry for my ten-year-old stepsisters, Zel and Ana.

  Almost.

  Today’s date is just a coincidence. I should’ve known when Regina sent me the ticket to Hawaii that this trip wasn’t about me. The car and boxes prove that.

  Stepmonsters never change their stripes.

  I bite my lip hard. There’s got to be a way.

  “What about a delivery service? Can I hire someone to take the boxes to Lauele Town?”

  The attendant uses his stylus to push back the brim of his cap. “You mean the pavilion above Keikikai Beach, right? Where they’re setting up the tents for the auction and luau?”

  I nod.

  He looks at the ground for a moment and makes a decision. “Look, I know we just met, and I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of creeper—”

  Said every creeper ever.

  I take half a step back.

  He sees the look on my face and laughs. “Which is exactly what a creeper would say?”

  I shrug.

  Pretty much.

  “Just hear me out. You don’t have many options, and there are a ton of boxes.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  He points toward the monkeypod tree in the employee lot. “Take my truck.”

  What? He can’t be serious. Who does that?

  “Take your truck?” I say. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? I’m offering.”

  I raise an eyebrow, considering. He’s about my age, maybe a couple of years older. He’s taller than me, the kind of taller where you can wear fancy heels on a date, but don’t have to stand on your toes to kiss.

  Kiss? Right. Like I’d know anything about that.

  What I read in books and magazines doesn’t count.

  My eyes travel across his broad shoulders, down to his slim waist, and quickly back to his face.

  Get a grip, Rell. Look at his eyes, not his body. You’re the one who’s acting creepy about this.

  His green eyes widen when I meet them.

  Oh, great. He knows I’ve been checking him out.

  His uniform is hardly stylish, but he makes it work. Wisps of sun-streaked hair peek out from the edges of his cap.

  My stomach flips. He’s cute. How did I miss this?

  Oh, yeah. The boxes.

  Focus, Rell!

  I swallow and point. “T
hat truck?”

  “Yeah. The Datsun with the surf racks. Don’t laugh. It’s paid for.”

  I feel the blush rise. “No! I mean, it’s great—”

  He laughs again. “Relax. I’m just teasing. It may not look like much, but it runs well. You can drive a stick, right?”

  My heart sinks.

  “No.”

  “Good, because it’s an automatic. You have no excuse.”

  His eyes are full of mischief. This is too easy. Nothing involving my stepmonster is ever easy. I’m missing something.

  “Why are you getting involved? This isn’t your problem.”

  He flicks his stylus against his tablet. “I’m from Lauele, born and raised. Watanabe Global is a major sponsor of the new International Abilities Surf Camp.”

  “I think they’re announcing some kind of partnership with Get Wet Prosthetics tonight,” I say.

  “Get Wet started the International Abilities Surf Tournament. Jay Westin—you know Jay?”

  “No.”

  “He’s a close friend. I’ve surfed with him since boogie board days. The surf camp is Jay’s idea. He wants to make it easy for kids with disabilities to learn to surf.”

  “That’s amazing,” I say. “I don’t know much about the camp at all.”

  “When I left Lauele this morning, the crew from Get Wet was already busy setting up. They’re probably waiting on this stuff.”

  “Regina’s text said I had to get the boxes delivered before noon.”

  He reaches out and pats a box. “Take my truck and get your boxes delivered. If makes you feel better, I’m not helping you; I’m helping my friend, Jay.”

  There’s something wrong with this. Finally, I see it.

  “But if I take your truck, how will you get home?”

  “Me? Bus. With stops, it’s only a four hour trip.”

  My mouth drops. I can’t let him do that.

  Laughter bubbles out of him like water from a fountain.

  “I’m not taking the bus, Rell. I’ll drive the Mini Cooper home and meet you later. I’m off in a couple of hours.”

  He pauses, waiting for me to agree.

  I stand in the sunshine looking at the stacks of boxes. I so want to leave them. I’m tired of Regina’s passive-aggressive crap.

  “Of course, if you have another option…”

  All those boxes.

  He’s right. Leaving the boxes would only hurt the auction, not Regina. The truck’s old and worn, but it should do the trick. As weird as this is, I don’t think it’s a scam.

  Okay. I’m doing it.

  I fumble in my purse. “I don’t have a lot of cash with me—”

  He pushes my hand away from my wallet.

  “Nonsense,” he says. “I’m not taking your money.” He crosses his arms and frowns. “Stop trying to make this complicated, Rell. It’s very simple. You need to get those boxes to Lauele. I have a truck. It’s cool.”

  I throw up my hands. “This is insane.”

  He laughs. “Insane is trying to shoehorn those boxes into a Mini Cooper. It’s really no big deal. I’m happy to help. C’mon. Let’s finish up the paperwork, load the truck, and get you on the road.”

  Chapter 2

  Back at the rental office, he runs around the counter and brings up the forms on a monitor.

  “Where are you staying? Waikiki? I know it’s not in Lauele. There aren’t any hotels out there.”

  “We’re staying somewhere close. It’s the private residence of someone my stepmother knows.” I grab my phone and pull up the address. “It’s called Hale O Ka Poliahu.”

  “No way. You know Poliahu?”

  I blink, wondering at his tone. “Uh, no. I think she’s someone my stepmother met while skiing in Switzerland. When news got out about Watanabe Global sponsoring the auction for the surf camp, Poliahu offered us her home. She said staying there would be easier than driving back and forth across the island.”

  “She’s right. Lauele is not a tourist-y kind of place. Not a lot of services out there. But, wow. You hit the jackpot. Poliahu’s estate is legendary.”

  “You know it?”

  He shakes his head. “By reputation only.” He hits enter a few times as the screen flashes. “The house sits upcountry in the mountains above Keikikai Beach. It’s usually empty. I can’t remember the last time Poliahu was home.”

  The printer under the counter whirls, spitting out the rental contract. “Okay. One Mini Cooper Convertible. Two day rental. Aw, seems like a shame to fly all this way and only stay two days.”

  “Believe me, two days with my family is long enough.”

  He pauses, then lightly touches my hand. “I’m sorry,” he says.

  I shrug. “It is what it is. It’s fine.”

  With a highlighter, he marks up the contract. “Since it’s a corporate rental, here’s where the collision insurance and extra driver fees are waved. Be sure to bring it back full or we’ll have to charge you extra for the fuel. Initial here, here, and here. Sign there. I just need your driver’s license, and we’re done.”

  I really don’t want to hand him my license, but I have no choice. Reading the signs posted all over the office, I realize why the reservation’s under R. Watanabe and booked under Regina’s account. This is the moment when he tells me I can’t rent a car at all. One last calculated humiliation by Regina, I’m sure.

  Maybe he’ll tell me how to catch the bus.

  I keep my finger over my birthdate as I slide my license across the counter, but when he picks it up, he sees it anyway.

  “Hey! Today’s your birthday! Hau‘ole la hanau.”

  I blush.

  Again.

  “Thanks,” I mumble. “Is this a problem?”

  He double-checks it. “For a regular rental, you’re underage. We make exceptions for corporate rentals.”

  Hallelujah!

  I let the air I was holding out in a rush.

  He hands my license back with a sympathetic smile. “It’s a silly rule. Most of the guys who work here are under 25, and we drive the cars all the time.”

  He throws me the keys from his pocket and grabs the keys to the Mini off the rack. We walk back through the rental lot to his truck parked in shade of a big monkeypod tree. He opens the door for me, and I climb in.

  “Don’t worry. It’s rusty and a little dinged up, but my truck’s safe. Just make sure you brake extra hard and pump ‘em a bit before you stop.”

  “What!”

  “Kidding, kidding! The brakes are fine. Man, you make teasing too easy.” He slams the door and the whole cab rattles. I start the engine. Warm air blasts from the vents. I look for the button to roll down the widows.

  He taps on the glass and points.

  It’s a hand crank.

  I roll the window down.

  Literally.

  It takes forever.

  The whole time he’s grinning at me.

  “Good,” he says when the window’s open. “I wasn’t sure if you knew what that was. There’s no air-conditioning, so you’ll want keep the windows rolled down. Just think of it as driving a convertible with a roof.” He pats the hood. “Meet me at the boxes.”

  I adjust the rearview and figure out how to put it in gear. When I’m at the far side of the parking lot, I surreptitiously test the brakes.

  No problem. The truck’s bigger than what I’m used to, but it handles well.

  I pull up next to the boxes and leave the truck idling. It doesn’t take long to load them. Rather than stick my bag next to me, I slip it in the back behind the cab and in front of the boxes.

  For a moment, I stand there a little dazed and overwhelmed. I’m not quite sure how all this came together.

  “Know where you’re going?” he asks.

  I hold up my phone. “I’ve got the address. Google Maps should get me there.”

  He holds up a finger. “I almost forgot. Wait just one sec.”

  He dashes back inside and comes back with a busin
ess card and a lei made of shiny black seeds. “Here’s my phone number. Call if you have any problems. I can leave work early if you need me.”

  “My number is—”

  He wiggles his phone. “Got it off the paperwork. I’ll text when I get back to Lauele this afternoon.”

  I look at the neatly stacked boxes and shake my head.

  “Is this what they mean by the aloha spirit?”

  He gives me a look like he’s not sure where I’m going with this. “Isn’t this just doing the right thing? That’s universal, no?”

  No. But thank goodness I’m in Hawaii.

  “I don’t even know your name,” I say.

  He holds out his hand. “Jerry Santos.”

  I take it. It’s warm and strong and slightly rough.

  “Rell Watanabe.”

  He grips my hand tighter and pulls me a little closer. He places the lei around my neck. “Aloha, Rell,” he says, pecking me on the cheek. “Welcome to Hawaii.”

  Chapter 3

  “You’re late.”

  When I step out of the truck, I ignore my stepmonster for a moment and take in the view. From the driveway, I can see all the way down the mountainside to the beach and out to sea. Waves that look like squiggly lines roll to the sand. If I squint, I can see surfers riding to the shore. The air is chilly, far chillier than I ever imagined Hawaii would be. I puff out a breath, expecting to see it turn to frost like it does back home in winter, but it doesn’t.

  “What happened to the convertible you insisted on? Don’t tell me you’d rather drive this—” I don’t have to look. I know how her mouth twists over these words—“whatever it is.”