by Toby Neal
You’re welcome, she thought she heard Beosith say.
“I asked you how and why you came here,” Uncle Buzz rumbled. “And there’s a reason for that.” Uncle had his throw net out and was showing Nick how to repair a tear in the fishing line with a bamboo shuttle. Jaden was already at work sharpening hooks with a whetstone, and Sam was inside looking at comics with their younger cousins.
“I’m sorry, Uncle. I was the one who had the idea to come here,” Bea said, her eyes tearing up a little as her aunt tugged at a knot in her hair. “We were staying in town with the Apucans after our house got taken over by a gang. After the disaster happened, I found Dad’s truck, but he was missing. Then I just started thinking we needed to get to you, to be with our own family. Sorry, Jaden,” she said to her friend, who had set down his work to sip on a glass of lemonade sweetened with honey like he’d never tasted it before.
Jaden flapped a hand. “I get it. No worries.”
“You say your dad was missing?” Uncle Buzz’s weather-beaten brows drew together over his broad nose. “Because he said you died.”
“What? You’ve seen him?” Bea felt the blood drain out of her face. She was glad Sam was inside the house. Nick looked at her in concern.
“Yeah. He’s here on Molokai. He took a boat out of the harbor, turned up in town in rough shape. He wasn’t feeling well.” Uncle harrumphed in his throat, a sound indicating his disapproval over Will Whitely’s alcoholism, a widely known and little-discussed fact. “Anyway, he said you two were in the truck with him, in the accident, and that you’d died.”
“What? That’s a lie!” Bea could hardly form the words. Perhaps this had been a thought Beosith had planted in her dad’s alcohol-soaked brain. A thought that he’d chosen to believe because then he could abandon us.
Her stomach went hollow with guilt—she was the one who’d called on the dragon to help them, and her father must have suffered so much, thinking they were dead! And yet, had he made any effort to find them? And she couldn’t endure his treatment of Sam one more day. Even with all they’d been through, it was better than trying to manage Will Whitely, too.
Her aunt hugged her from behind. “That’s why I was crying so much,” her aunt said into Bea’s hair. “I thought you were dead.”
“Why would he say that?” Jaden’s face was blank with incomprehension. “I don't understand.”
“He must have hit his head or something,” Bea said. “He’s going to show up here to try to take us when he hears we made it over.”
“Never. He’s not taking you anywhere.” Aunty Hilary resumed combing Bea’s hair. “I wanted you to come live with us two years ago, when we could see he was getting worse after Angel passed.”
The family sat in silence until Uncle Buzz said, “You have a home with us as long as you want one. Now, Jaden. We know you came to find out what’s going on over here, and it’s okay. In parts. We have the patrol keeping the peace, and people are taking care of their own—but the tourists aren’t doing so well. They’ve got nothing we need but their money, and everyone’s trading now, so the ones who work, who try to help—they’re getting enough to eat. Speaking of.” He gestured with his bamboo shuttle to Nick. “What you doing here with my niece and nephew?”
Bea saw Nick swallow and make some sort of decision. “I’m from Chicago area. I was in foster and I was on my way to live with my grandparents on Maui when our plane went down. I got separated from our group, who were spending the night in the Whitelys’ house, when the gang took it over. I tried to rejoin the rest of the airplane survivors at the Lodge after traveling back to town with Bea, Sam, and Jaden, but there was a group running the Lodge that kicked me out. Said they had too many mouths to feed.”
A short silence followed this. “You’re going to hear that a lot,” Uncle Buzz said. “But there’s always food for someone who’s not afraid to work.”
“I’m not afraid to work,” Nick said. “And I have some money.” He reached to his waist and pulled off the salt-water-stained leather belt he wore. Bea felt her eyes widen as he opened a slit in the belt and pulled out a handful of cash, offering it to Uncle Buzz. “To pay for room and board.”
“Your money’s no good here,” Uncle Buzz said. “But I’ll remember you have some if we ever have need. No, it’s working that will come in handy.”
“I can work,” Nick repeated, putting the money away.
“I can, too,” Jaden chimed in.
Uncle Buzz was still focused on the Mainland boy. “So do you want to get to Maui? Find your grandparents?”
Nick’s blue eyes were sad. “I know they didn’t really want me. I came with Bea and Sam because I was learning how to survive on the ocean and land from them, and they were coming here. I don’t have a lot of choices. But if you give me a chance, I’ll work hard here.”
Uncle Buzz smacked Nick’s sunburned shoulder, making him wince. “Got a strong back, I see. We can always use that. We’re putting all the land we can into garden.”
“Let’s get started with some baths,” Aunty said. “You kids stinky, not to mention your clothes are filthy. I’ll start heating the water.” She got up and went into the kitchen, and the rest of them trooped after her.
Bea dropped her head onto her folded arms, content to rest on the front steps and savor the feeling of being home. And safe.
He’s coming, the dragon said.
Bea lifted her head. Directly across the yard, petting the dogs’ heads, was her father.
He was tall and ropy, with furrows of drink and sorrow etched deep in his cheeks. His profile was almost unfamiliar without the John Deere hat, and his blue eyes pierced her from wells of darkness. She looked wildly around, but everyone had followed her aunt into the house.
“Beatitude Whitely,” her father said. “I thought you were dead.”
Bea’s father was here. Here to take us away, here believing a lie.
“What are you talking about? You must have hit your head.” Bea stood up. Anger rose in her, white-hot and powerful. Anger she’d never been safe enough until now to show. Anger that was rocket fuel. “Maybe that’s what you wished would happen, so you believed it.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. Go get your brother. You’re coming with me.”
Their voices must have drawn the rest of the family, because Bea felt Uncle Buzz’s hand descend to grip her shoulder, large and kind.
“We aren’t coming, Dad. We’re staying here with the Kanekoas. This is where we belong,” Bea said, that anger strengthening her voice.
“You’re my family!” Will Whitely’s voice rose, as he pointed a trembling, knobby finger at her. “Shut your mouth, girl, or I’ll shut it for you!”
Bea shook off her uncle’s hand and strode down the steps to stand in front of her father.
“Take your best shot, Dad, but we’re not going.” She felt ten feet tall, her eyes on fire. He raised his arm, with that hard hand at the end of it, and Uncle Buzz’s voice cut through the charged silence.
“Suggest you go now, Will. The girl said they’re not going with you.”
Bea shot a glance over her shoulder. Uncle, Aunty, their cousins, Nick, and Jaden all lined the porch and looked ready to pounce on her dad.
You don’t have to live with him ever again, Beosith said. If you don’t want to.
“Go, Dad.” And she poked her father in the chest, just a small poke with her forefinger, almost affectionate. “Goodbye.”
His arm never completed the backhand she saw in his weary, hard, sad eyes. The arm fell to his side, and he turned and walked away, his shoulders slumping. She watched him go and even felt a tiny bit sad for him—but when she turned and ran back onto the porch and into the arms of her family, she felt only happy relief.
Nick watched the tall, shambling man who was Sam and Bea’s father disappear into the darkness. He could tell that man was the one who’d left the fading bruises on Sam, the man who’d kept them out at that house and stockpiled all
the food and supplies and kept them away from the people of the town.
But because he was who he was, Bea and Sam had the survival skills they did. They’d at least had a father who cared about them in whatever way he could, while Nick’s hadn’t known he existed. He’d never been able to get his mother to tell him anything. “He was tall and handsome. An athlete, like you,” she’d said. “But he wasn’t ready to be a dad, and I didn’t want him to know, and now I don’t know how to find him. We don’t need him, anyway.”
But she’d died, and Nick had needed him. Someone. Anyone who wanted him, who gave him a place to belong. That’s how Dodger and his crew had become his family.
Bea came to the door. “Come in. The bath is ready, and guests get to go first.”
Guest. Not family. But he was glad to have that, at least, and a chance to go back on the straight and narrow from here on out. There was no need for pickpocketing or lies in this tough and honest island with these tough and honest people, and that at least was something—and so was the slender girl with the green eyes. He’d do a lot to be anywhere she was.
Nick followed Bea into the house.
Sam got into the metal tub after his sister, who’d had it after the older boys. Water was still an issue on this arid island. He was efficient, scrubbing briskly in the warmish, soapy bath, doing his hair, then getting into the cold-rinse tub whose water had been changed, washing the last of the grime of journey off him.
He was still rendered silent and in awe of his sister and her courage in confronting their dad. She’d poked the old man in the chest, told him to hit the road—and he’d gone, hopefully for a long time. Maybe even forever.
And as for him, Sam knew where his future lay now. On the sea, where his bad foot wasn’t even an issue, and his uncle Buzz could teach him all he needed to know about being a fisherman.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bea stood on the beach, looking at the loaded Hobie cat. The early-morning wind freshened across the Channel, and the new, real sail and metal lines hummed, rigged and ready to go. A real Hobie steerage system with double paddle-type rudders on a maneuverable tiller had been installed, pirated along with the rigging off a broken-down hull in the harbor.
The newly christened `Aumakua was almost ready for launch.
Jaden turned away from stowing items on the restrung trampoline. Two sturdy young men he was sailing with, who had family on Lanai and wanted to help out there, continued to prep the vessel. Both of them were experienced sailors who’d gone across the Channel, and as far as Maui, many times.
One of them broke out his ukulele for a departure mele. Family on the beach, gathered to see them off, sang along in Hawaiian. Bea stood with a hand on Uncle Buzz’s old horse Lani, a plodding but reliable mare who had carried the two of them down to the little bay for the launch. Jaden had said his goodbyes to everyone else back at the house. Sam and Nick had stayed back to help on a new groundbreaking project on the land.
Bea felt a tightness in her chest as Jaden approached her, his brown eyes alight with the upcoming adventure and the sun sparkling on drops of water on the sharp line of his collarbone—a tiny detail she could bear looking at so much more than his eyes.
“Travel safe,” Bea said. “No swimming with the sharks.”
“Ha. I’ll leave that to you.” He stood in front of her, and she felt that something between them, something that made her heart thunder and the hair on her arms lift, as if a breeze passed over it.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.
She nodded, unable to speak, her eyes on his collarbone. He stepped closer and put his arms around her, and they fitted like they always had. She closed her eyes and tipped her face up, turning like a flower toward the sun—and the kiss was like a butterfly landing and staying a little while.
A hoot from the boat made them spring apart, and Bea felt a blush burn across her cheeks. “Come visit sometime.”
“Soon as I can.” They hugged one more time, fiercely, with all the strength in both their arms. Then he turned and ran back, and there was more hooting and laughing and three young men in surf trunks pushing the boat into the water. The sail snapped and belled open. They scrambled aboard into their positions.
Bea lifted a hand and held it there, a silent wave that Jaden echoed. She watched until the great blue ocean seemed to swallow the little craft in the flying spume of the Kalohi Channel and the beach had cleared of well-wishers.
Lanai’s golden slope in the distance looked like a promise or a dream. The old mare bumped her with her padded velvet nose, and Bea sighed, leaned her head on the worn leather of the saddle, and contemplated if she needed to cry.
Why not? Nobody here but Lani and me.
“Beosith.” She lifted her head to see the magnificent little dragon rise up out of the water, a good-sized white kumu flapping in his jaws. He shook the water off, much like a dog, and stretched out in the warm sand, holding the fish between his forepaws and crunching on his prize headfirst. Lani backed up, eyes rolling, and Bea moved her out of visual range and tied her to a bush.
“I haven’t seen you much lately.” She came back and sat beside Beosith on the now-deserted beach, resting elbows on her knees as she reached out to scratch his back. He fluttered those smooth, blue-purple scales, flicking the last of the salt water off onto her in a playful spray, and she laughed.
You haven’t needed me much lately.
“I know. Things are pretty busy with the family.” And indeed they had been. Working the garden, expanding the size to double, and helping Uncle Buzz refit his fishing boat to move under paddle and sail had been no easy task. Between major projects and the usual household chores, Bea hardly ever found herself alone. She thought of Nick, working hard to break ground with a pickax at home, and was glad he was still there.
She’d just kissed Jaden, but she still wasn’t sure which boy she liked more. Maybe it’s okay to like them both?
It’s fine, right now.
Bea laughed. “I forgot you were listening to my thoughts. This isn’t exactly a dragon problem I’ve got here.”
I’m wondering if you need me anymore at all.
Beosith had found a small pond used for watering cattle near the Kanekoa house and had taken up residence there. Glimpses of him by a few paniolos and, of course, cattle who now refused to drink at the pond, had caused the legend of the mo’o to resurface. Bea had kept her mouth shut at several dinner-table conversations centering on the topic of powerful `aumakua, and whether the mo’o were benign or evil.
It was beginning to become a problem.
I think I must go. I’ve been thinking so for a while. Besides, I’ve eaten everything in the pond. Even the toads. He rolled an eye at her, sending her a taste of how bad they were.
“Ugh. I’m sorry. But I don’t want you to go, too.” Bea threw her arms around his tensile, powerful neck, and he bent his head to whuffle in her ear, blowing curling hairs out of her braid.
I’ll always come when you call.
And just like that, with one more fishy air kiss, he moved out of her arms and rolled in the warm, gritty sand, grunting with pleasure. He stood, shook himself, blinking his bright eyes, and then moved down into the ocean and, with a flick of his tail, was gone.
Bea lay facedown in the sand and cried.
She cried and cried some more. When she was done and had wiped the last drooly bits of sand off her face and climbed aboard Lani and headed for home, she realized something. For the first time since her mother died, the wall of tears inside her was gone.
Really gone.
She took a big deep breath, blew it back out on a giggle, and smiled.
“Thank you, Beosith.”
You’re welcome. He sounded as nearby as ever.
Acknowledgments
Aloha, dear readers!
Special thanks goes to three wonderful schoolteachers who reviewed this manuscript for both content and readability, and gave a lot of helpful input! Mahalo nui loa to Don
Williams, Bonnie Hodur, and Beckee Morrison. Each of you contributed something to make this a stronger tale. Thanks also to journalist extraordinaire Shannon Wianecki. Her article on mo`o dragons and `aumakua in a Hawaii magazine publication was so excellent I asked her to consult on this manuscript, and now I’m proud to call her friend.
As a kid on Kaua`i, I grew up with parents who were aware and concerned about how dependent we are in Hawaii on imported food, fuel, and technology. My parents, worried about the gas crisis and shipping embargoes in the 1970s, stockpiled food and necessities against a “someday disaster.” We ended up having to eat a lot of beans and rice because that disaster never came. Though times have changed in many ways, Hawaii’s dependency on outside sources has not changed.
It was scary to me back then, and it still is now. Though that disaster hasn’t happened it still could, and Island Fire is my exploration of a post-technology world in a place as isolated as any I could think of—tiny Lanai, right off the coast of my home island, Maui.
This first book is a test to see if anyone else is interested in this kind of story, this kind of “what if” world where all the things we know and depend on are taken away. If you liked Island Fire, please post a review and ask for more. If you do, I’ll write them!
Much aloha,
Toby Neal
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About the Author
Kirkus Reviews calls Neal's writing, "persistently riveting. Masterly."
