Free Stranded in Paradise by Lori Copeland

applauded the performance of the beautiful ancient hula Kahiko and ’Auana. For the first time since she’d arrived in Hawaii she felt as though everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t say why, exactly. Nothing had changed. She was still without a job. Maybe it was making a new friend.
    The wind tossed the dancer’s hair, and Tess pulled her hat down tighter.
    Cramming a piece of roll into his mouth, Carter applauded. Then leaning over he asked, “Is it supposed to rain?” He tilted his head toward the sky that had taken on a starless appearance. The wind kicked up again.
    She shrugged. She’d heard Beeg mention that rain showers were frequent on this side of the island so she wouldn’t be surprised—though the cool feel in the air hinted at something stronger than a tropical mist. She studied Carter’s relaxed manner. Like her, he was wearing a flower lei some Polynesian lovely had draped over his head. He was smiling, having a great time in spite of their rocky beginning.
    â€œNice, huh?” he said, laugh crinkles forming around friendly blue eyes.
    She nodded. The luau was therapeutic, a sorely needed diversion from a hectic past few days.
    She looked up. The wind was whipping across the lawn so strongly that the dancers were having trouble keeping their balance; costumes were wrapping around their bodies, and the girls’ long back hair flailed around their faces, making it hard for them to see. A gale whistled through the musicians’ microphones, sending an ear-piercing shriek of feedback.
    Servers darted about to set desserts—Haupia pudding, Haupia cake, pineapple upside-down cake, guava cake, and coffee—in front of the guests before the full gale hit. Tess leaned to cut a slice of pineapple upside-down cake when the wind whipped a glob of brown sugar into the hair of the woman two chairs down. The woman gave her a dirty look and then left in a huff.
    Thunder grumbled. Guests dressed in flimsy island wear clasped their forearms in an attempt to keep warm, teeth chattering as the skies opened up. Waiters and waitresses rushed to rescue the food, pulling out carts they quickly loaded with platters and took inside. Waiters handed out flimsy yellow plastic rain ponchos and guests tried to wrestle the gear over their heads in the whipping wind.
    â€œAre we having fun yet?” Cater shouted into the wind.
    â€œA blast!” Tess replied, “Help me put this on.” Carter reached over but the wind persisted, making it impossible to find the narrow slits in the sides.
    Chairs overturned. The entertainers courageously plowed ahead on the semi-circular stage below as Poi-logged spectators made for higher ground. Rain sluiced down but the musicians bravely played on.
    â€œ. . . the missionaries brought many changes to our island,” the announcer intoned. Shreeeek, shrilllll, the reverb sounded.
    â€œ. . . King Kalakaua . . . Drat!” The announcer flung the mike to the ground as lightning forked the arena.
    â€œLet’s get out of here!” Carter took her hand and the two ran-hobbled toward the lobby’s thatched roof. “Are you okay?” Carter released her hand and looked at her drenched face.
    â€œI’m fine,” Tess said. “Wet. But fine.” She looked down at her feet; the foot without injury had a broken sandal strap.
    â€œRats!” She said. “Now I need to go sandal shopping, since this is the only pair I brought.”
    â€œYou need an excuse to shop?” It was a question.
    â€œThat’s a stereotype, I’ll have you know. Not all women love spending money.”
    â€œI didn’t mean it as an affront,” Carter held up both hands and smiled. “Truce?”
    She blushed. “Truce.”
    â€œLet me hail a cab,” Carter offered.
    â€œAre you all right?” he asked again as he helped her into the backseat when a taxi finally pulled up. Water streamed off