Free Spoils of Eden by Linda Lee Chaikin Page A

the dishes.”
    Keno looked worried. “You think I made it too strong?” He looked at the coconut shell.
    “You’ve got to be kidding, Keno,” he said hoarsely. “That stuff is poison.”
    Keno slapped his forehead. “Of course! That’s it.
Poison!
Horticultural poison for the bugs eating the pineapple slips—don’t you see? That’s even better!”
    Rafe shook his head and let his marveling gaze drift from the coconut to the road. “Eden’s coming.”
    Keno looked down the track. “Sure enough. I’ll get rid of this,” he said, nodding at the coconut, “and I vow to quit the rotting pineapple business.” He burst into the bungalow, returning a few moments later with a bowl of Kona coffee. “This should clear the poison. Drink it up, pal, and I’ll keep her busy.”
    “I can deal with her,” Rafe growled. He drank the coffee, pushed the bowl against Keno’s chest, glaring, then entered the bungalow.He snatched his shirt from the peg and slipped it on, followed by his beat-up Panama hat, then went to his horse.
    Keno folded his arms across his chest. “She’s just as smitten as you are,” he said cheerfully. “She just doesn’t know it.”
    “Brilliant deduction.”
    What had caused her to come see him after two long months?
Surely not love
, he thought cynically.
    Somehow, I have an uneasy feeling about this
…

Chapter Five
Firestorm
    E den saw in the distance perhaps a hundred men, digging, cultivating, and planting. Most were of Chinese ancestry, but there was a second group off to themselves, which she recognized as Japanese. Having grown up around Grandfather Ainsworth’s massive sugar plantation, she was used to seeing men working. They came from China and Japan of their own will, signing contracts to work for a certain wage and a certain length of time. When the contracts ended, many of them set up their own little shops in Chinatown and other neighborhoods. Others continued working in agriculture. Ambrose would reach out to the various language groups, begin tiny assemblies of believers, and train them to reach their own people.
    She could see the green shoots of pineapple plants growing abundantly and assumed the French Guiana pineapple variety had taken to its new home.
    Pulling the horse and buggy to one side of the road, she stopped. Across the sun-drenched acreage she fixed her gaze on the loneshady oasis, a singular palm-thatched bungalow. “Like Jonahs gourd,” she thought with a smile.
    Rafe stood outside the bungalow door, while Keno rushed about, in and out of the bungalow, but she couldn’t tell what he was doing. It was clear they had seen her, so she remained in the buggy. A moment later Rafe went to untie his horse. Mounting, he settled his hat lower and rode slowly to meet her, the wind ruffling his shirt.
    She clutched the leather reins tightly. Meeting Rafe again after their stormy parting two months ago was in itself stressful, but representing the Board with the kind of news she had on Kip was certain to bring a tropical storm.
    She noticed his masculine looks that at times made her uneasy, even though she knew they shouldn’t. There was no sin in a fine appearance. It was what one did with the God-given asset. What she admired most about Rafe were the Christian principles he adhered to in keeping himself under discipline. She respected him for his restraint. She had never seen Rafe use his appearance to take advantage of vulnerable women. Such could not be said of her Uncle Townsend.
    She waited, still wondering how to greet him after all this time. Their love for one another, she believed, was still unwavering, even though conflict had delayed their marriage. Noelani had said it was best to lay conflict to rest before marriage rather than be joined in a struggle once married. Eden wondered if any marriage, at any stage of life, was without its conflicts. “Conflict can be healthy and make us grow,” Ambrose often said. “The tree that’s buffeted by winds can