Maggie walked up behind me and said, “Here’s that Maui-wowie I was telling you about.” I could smell it had a sweet fragrance. When I took a toke , I got a smooth, herbal taste. I smiled, leaned toward her and ventured to ask, “Home grown?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s too chancy with the helicopter squad making daily runs but it’s easy to buy if you know where.”

She gave me another puff and then moved on. I leaned against a bar stool in the midst of a man and woman but I kept an eye on Bette and she seemed to be keeping tabs on me too, as she would flirtatiously nod and wink when our eyes met, then continue talking to whomever.

We had a delicious dinner. It was served buffet style off the bar with many Mexican dishes to chose from. Everyone just sat where ever they could find a spot. Bette, the Fullers and I ate out at a wicker table set on the deck. After our meal, Maggie passed the pipe around again. I could feel a very pleasant high coming on and yet it was not overpowering. It seemed to have the same effect on Bette, as well.

And then Kris Kristofferson started to sing.

Maggie said she played his music all the time, that even though he peaked in the 70’s and 80’s, he was still very popular on Maui because he lived there. She said he was very family oriented now and involved in the community with people calling him, “uncle”.

I began to fade Maggie out. For me, it was almost as if someone turned up the volume because I no longer heard what anyone was saying. I knew the c.d. that was being played was “The Austin Sessions” and I was very partial to it. Bette and I had played another of his albums, an old LP version that year we went to Mendocino. That was where we fell in love and much later, when we reunited as friends, we had given revised versions of those songs to each other. Once in a while we would even admit that his music brought back memories that yanked us back to that time when things were fresh and new.

I glanced at Bette. She was listening to Maggie. I was listening to Kris singing, “Me and Bobby McGee” and I was filling slowly with nostalgia. I wanted her to feel it too. She seemed oblivious. I got up, excused myself and went to the bathroom. I took my time. When I came out I stood in the doorway of the kitchen and saw that Bette had come back into that room. She was standing by the bar, facing my way but talking to a man. She did not see me watching her as Kris sang, “Lay your head upon my pillow. Hold your warm and tender body next to mine…”

Bette’s eyes glazed over momentarily and I saw her look out the window where we had been sitting. Not seeing me there her eyes darted around the room and she seemed to hold her breath until she found me. When our eyes locked, she let out an obvious sigh and her shoulders slightly drooped. I read her very well. It was the song. It was the singer. Finally, she was hearing him. “……and make believe you love me one more time. For the good times.” And she was remembering.

There was a mutual connection of gravity that was pulling us together.

She seemed to excuse herself from the man. She began walking slowly toward me and I waited. Again, our eyes stayed focused on each other. She walked up to me and said, “Let’s go to the back porch.”