She seemed to sense my confusion. “I’m going to be cremated. Ray is, too.”
She gestured to a stone bench at the edge of the lawn and we sat down. “So, what did you want to ask me?” she said.
“Lili’s birth certificate is signed by a ‘Charlene Cooper.’ I’m assuming she’s the midwife who assisted at the birth.”
“That’s right. Lili was born at home. But when Charlene saw she was having trouble breathing she called an ambulance to take her to the hospital.” Loke’s eyes wandered back to the baby’s gravesite. It felt macabre talking about her daughter’s birth in sight of her final resting place but Loke seemed to take it in stride.
“What can you tell me about Charlene? Does she still live here in Kona?”
“Oh, sure. Charlene was the only midwife on this side of the island for, I don’t know, ten years or so. She used to work at Kona Memorial, but she hasn’t been there for a while. Back in the day, almost every woman I know used Charlene to deliver their babies. Especially women who didn’t have fancy health insurance.”
“And her last name’s Cooper?”
Loke laughed. “Yeah, but that’s hardly important. Everyone ‘round here just calls her ‘Auntie Charlene.’ She lives right here in Kealakekua, in a little purple house on Kalele Road. She’s got a haole last name, but that’s on her dad’s side. Her mother’s people go all the way back to King Kamehameha. Anyway, that’s what she claims.”
“From what I hear, Kamehameha had a bunch of wives. Seems reasonable he’d have a lot of offspring.”
“I suppose. Anyway, why don’t you go by her place and see if she remembers anything about the birth certificate? She’s got an amazing memory even though she’s not in the baby business anymore.”
“I hope she’ll talk to me. I don’t really have any legal standing here.”
Loke laughed. “You don’t need to worry about that with Charlene. She’s uh, well, let’s just say she isn’t much for rules. But I’ll give her a call and tell her the situation. I’m sure she’ll do whatever she can to help you get this thing ironed out.”
I thanked her and got up to go find Hatch. I’d seen him lurking around the edge of the cemetery taking pictures. I didn’t know if that was frowned on or not, but I was ready to get out of there and go back to being among the living.
“How’d it go?” Hatch said as we climbed into the car.
“Fine. Loke’s going to call the midwife who signed the birth certificate so I can go by and talk to her. She said she lives near here on Kalele Road.”
“You want to go there now?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
He pulled out his phone. “What’s her address? I’ll plug it in.”
“I didn’t get an address, but Loke said it’s a purple house. How many of those could there be?”
He tapped “Kalele Road” into the GPS and the recorded voice said, “Drive the highlighted route.”
“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Why don’t we go by the midwife’s house and then we can go down to Pu’uhonua O Honaunau Park and check it out.”
“Whew,” I said. “I’m impressed. You said that perfectly.”
“Yeah well, I’ve been practicing all those vowels. The guys at the station said if I’m going to Kona for the first time I should go see the place of refuge. They said it’s an amazing place.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
***
The house near the end of Kalele Road in Kealakekua turned out to be a riotous shade of purple. It was a small bungalow squatting in an overgrown yard cluttered with overgrown bushes interspersed with mirrored gazing balls and whimsical bird feeders. The porch beams sported a dozen tinkly wind chimes made of glass, metal, wood and bamboo. Near the front door was a wok-sized brass gong hanging on a bamboo stand. A striker was affixed to the stand.
“Looks like maybe this midwife and Farrah were twins separated at birth,” Hatch said.
“Yeah, she’d probably love this place.”
A black cat was curled in a crumbling wicker chair by the front door. It looked up, blinked at us, and then resumed its nap.
There was no sign of a doorbell.
“I think you’re supposed to use the gong,” Hatch said.
“Like I’m gonna do anything that goofy,” I said. I knocked on the door and waited.
Nothing.
Hatch lifted the striker and whacked the gong. The deep bong reverberated through my skull, setting up an echo of remarkable clarity. The cat shot us the feline equivalent of stink eye then resumed its nap.
Still, no one came to the door.
“No one’s home,” Hatch said, stating the obvious.
“Maybe she’s at church,” I said. “It is Sunday.”
Hatch fingered a tiny red Chinese Communist flag hanging from a cord on one of the wind chimes. “Seriously?”
“Well, in any case, she’s not here,” I said. “I’ll have to come back later.”
We went back to the car and headed down Highway 11 to the Honaunau Post Office. At that point the GPS lady told us to turn ma kai onto Highway 160. Actually, she didn’t say “ma kai,” she said “make a right turn.” After a few miles of snaking down a rather steep incline bordered by brushy vegetation and not much else, we saw the park sign: Pu’uhonua O Honaunau National Historical Park.
“What did the guys at the fire station tell you about this place?” I said. In school we’d learned about Hawaiian kapu laws and the function of pu’uhonua in ancient Hawaiian society, but I wanted to know what Hatch had been told.
“Well, from what I gather, this was a place of refuge,” he said. “If somebody screwed up and pissed off the king or the chief poobah or whatever, if they could get to this place they’d get a pardon. No harm, no foul.”
I nodded. That was pretty much it in a nutshell.
We paid the entrance fee and parked. There weren’t many cars in the lot. The park had an eerie feeling to it—like a place out of time. Which, of course, it is. Other national parks in Hawaii seem energetic and vibrant. Haleakala National Park on Maui is alive with hikers, bikers and sight-seers. The large park on the other side of Hawaii Island, Volcanoes National Park, is a geologist’s dream with the footprint of the island changing with each eruption of mighty Kiluea.
But this park is different. There’s a hush in the air. Signs advise visitors the area is a culturally sensitive monument and to please show respect. It’s a place of religious significance to the Hawaiian culture no less significant than the Vatican is to Catholics or the Western Wall, sometimes called the “Wailing Wall,” is to Jews. From what I could see, visitors here didn’t need to be reminded. Everyone spoke in whispers. As people carefully made their way around the numbered exhibits, reading the placards and gazing at the treacherous rocky lava beach, it seemed we were all thinking the same thing. How did ancient kapu-breakers ever find this place? And even more puzzling, how did they manage to get ashore before being drowned or dashed on the rocks?
The park has an entire forest of tall carved wooden statues, or ki’i. The ki’i have been bleached gray by sun and salt air and each displays a menacing face and ominous pose. Not exactly the type of welcoming committee you’d want to see if you were fleeing for your life. There are various sites depicting ancient houses of both the ali’i, or royalty, and the common people, and implements of everyday life during the time of Kamehameha.
One of the few amusing signs at the park is near a large rock dubbed the Queen Ka’ahumanu Rock. It tells the story of how King Kamehameha’s favorite wife, Ka’ahumanu, had to flee to the pu’uhonua after quarreling with the king. Apparently bickering with the chief, even if he is your husband, was unacceptable and she feared for her life. According to legend, she snatched up her little dog and walked the coastal trail to the northern part of Honaunau Bay. But once she got there she was unable to access the place of refuge across the bay. So, she started swimming. She and the dog swam to the pu’uhonua and then hid behind a big rock. Meanwhile, her husband a
nd his band of merry warriors were in hot pursuit. When they got to the end of the trail the king figured she must’ve taken refuge in one of the local homes. He ordered his men to set fire to the grass houses in an effort to smoke her out. Luckily for the residents, one of Kamehameha’s men spotted Ka’ahumanu’s little white dog on the other side of the bay and the arson was halted.
The king and his men doubled back inland and approached the place of refuge from the land side. As the queen hid behind the rock, her dog began barking and gave her away. She emerged and the king was forced to pardon her. Even kings answer to someone—the gods. And the gods commanded that forgiveness must be extended to all who reached the pu’uhonua. Like all good stories, this one has a happy ending. Within a short time the two reconciled and Ka’ahumanu resumed her place as Kamehameha’s favorite wife.
“So,” I said, “It seems no matter how heinous the crime, you got a do-over if you could just get here before you were caught.”
“Yeah,” said Hatch. “Kind of like, ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’.”
We drove back to the B & B for our last night on the Big Island. We had dinner at a tiny spot in the Kona Banyan Court called the Rapanui Island Café. Hatch had chicken curry and I had the mac nut crusted prawns. The place may be small but the portions were huge—and tasty.
We slipped into bed early. Our flight wasn’t until late morning on Monday, since Hatch had traded shifts and didn’t need to be back to work until Tuesday. I suppose we could’ve spent our last night at a local watering hole, drinking mai tais and dancing, but nothing sounded as good as just being horizontal with the man I love. One more night of bliss. Then it was back to nagging slacker suppliers, cajoling demanding brides, and praying for clear weather.
CHAPTER 14
On Monday morning we were on the B & B lanai enjoying our second cup of Kona coffee when my cell phone chimed. I checked the caller ID. It was Lili Kapahu, probably checking on my progress with her birth certificate. I considered letting it go to voicemail, but at the last second I picked up.
“Aloha, Lili,” I said.
A muffled noise, like someone gargling.
“Lili? Can you hear me?”
Again, the gargle.
“Lili, I think we have a bad connection. I’ll call you back.” I’d started to click off when I heard her say, “Pali?”
“Yes, that’s better. I can hear you now.”
“She’s dead,” said Lili in a strangled voice.
“Who’s dead?”
Lili resumed the gargling sound. I turned to Hatch. “I’ve got a real bad feeling things are about to get complicated.”
By the time I calmed Lili down enough to give me the who, what, and where of what’d happened, Hatch had gone inside and showered. He came back out to the lanai, all manly smelling with his wet hair slicked back. He wore a teal colored golf shirt. My favorite.
“Okay,” I said. “Here’s what I know so far: David’s mother, Malia, was found slumped over in her car this morning and she was pronounced DOA at the hospital.”
“Who’s David?”
“Oh, sorry. David’s the groom in the teenager wedding I’m doing.” Up to that point I hadn’t filled Hatch in on the details of the wedding. We have an understanding: I listen to the high points of life at the fire station and he does the same for me with “Let’s Get Maui’d.” But we try to avoid boring each other with “shop talk” by skipping over the particulars. It makes for less yawning and furtive glances at our cell phones to check for incoming texts.
“Do they have a C.O.D.?” Hatch is a paramedic so he’s prone to sliding into acronyms when anything medical comes up. It’s part of the culture.
“Cause of death? I assume it was asphyxiation. I had a hard time getting much out of Lili, but she said when her future mother-in-law was found, her car was running and the garage door was down. I’m kind of winging it here, but I’m guessing they’ll find carbon monoxide poisoning.”
“Sounds about right.”
“She’s on her way over here,” I said.
“Who?”
“Lili. She asked me to stay here and pick her up at the airport. I asked if she’d gotten her parents’ permission to come over but she blew me off. I guess I’ll have to deal with that when I see her.”
“Okay, wait a second,” Hatch said. “You say the groom’s mother died here? I thought they both lived on Maui.” Hatch looked irked, as if I was purposefully trying to confuse him.
“No, Lili’s on Maui. Both kids were born on the Big Island but Lili was raised on Maui and she lives there. David and his parents still live here.”
Hatch shot me a “whatever” look which meant he’d heard enough. “I need to go,” he said. “I’ve already traded a shift so I need to be back on duty tomorrow.”
“I know. How about you load up your stuff while I go check and see if I can keep the room for another night or two? I want to stay and help Lili. She’s just a kid. Although her parents are concerned about her, I doubt they’re going to be all supportive of her coming over here to be with David.”
***
Lili’s plane landed and Hatch’s was scheduled to take off on the return flight. Since I couldn’t go through security I spent a few minutes outside waiting for Lili to appear. When she did, I hardly recognized her. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes as red as a fillet of ahi tuna.
“Pali,” she moaned. She fell into my arms. Luckily, after catching a glimpse of her I’d braced for impact. It felt like Sifu Doug had tossed me an eighty-pound medicine ball.
“Lili, let’s get your things and get out of here. Do you have a place to stay?”
She slumped even further. “I thought I could stay with you.”
Good thing I’d managed to keep the room.
“Sure. There’s only one bed, but it’ll be fine.”
She started crying. “I never even got to meet David’s mom. I only talked to her on the phone. How could this happen?”
I practically carried Lili to baggage claim to pick up her bag. Her suitcase was enormous. When I hefted it off the luggage conveyor it weighed almost as much as she did.
“What’ve you got in this thing?” I said.
“I don’t know how long I’ll need to be here.”
“Speaking of that, have you called your folks yet? They’re really worried about you.”
“I’ll do it later.” I shot her “the look” and she added, “I will, promise.”
The owner of the B & B had said I could only stay two more nights. After that, she was booked solid for the rest of the week. Some kind of coffee convention.
“Is David here already?” I said.
“Yeah. He got a ride over from Hilo as soon as he heard.”
“Do you want to go to the room to freshen up?”
“No,” she said. “I need to be with David.”
***
In the past couple of years I’ve spent a fair amount of time with grief-stricken people. And that’s not counting the distraught mothers-of-the-bride I’ve had to talk down from a ledge because they thought their daughter could’ve done better in the son-in-law department. I’ve learned in most instances it’s best to just listen. No fake smiles, no arm-patting or words of false comfort, and certainly no probing questions to extract the grisly details.
But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t curious as we stood outside David’s mother’s house. A small crowd had gathered in the driveway to witness the commotion. The body had been taken away hours ago, but the place was still crawling with police. A handful of TV reporters lurked at the edges, probably hoping to catch a loved one in the throes of anguish. Nothing screams “film at eleven” like unbridled grief.
“If you’re a reporter, get off my property,” said a plus-sized local woman of about thirty-five. She wore stretchy beige pants that strained to encompass her ample hips and a pastel-striped peasant blouse with puffy sleeves. The overall effect was like looking at a gigantic shave ice.
“I’
m not. My name’s Pali Moon. I’m the wedding planner Lili and David hired to do their wedding. I brought Lili here from the airport.”
“Oh, sorry. You looked like one of them,” she said. “I’m Shayna, David’s oldest sister,” She took my hand and squeezed it; then held it for a few moments longer. I’m not used to holding hands with strange women but I guess it was the order of the day because as I glanced around there was a lot of hand-holding going on.
“Lili flew over from Maui when she heard. I guess David was devastated by the news.”
We both looked over at Lili who was swooning in the arms of her fiancé. David’s expression was blank, as if posing for a mug shot.
“Typical,” said Shayna. “Everyone’s worried about David. It’s like the rest of us don’t even exist. And my mom? Don’t even get me started on that.”
I’d dealt with sudden death before, but never a suicide. From what I’d heard, friends and family members react differently when someone makes the choice to end their life. People aren’t just saddened by the news, they’re angry. As if offing yourself was the ultimate rude gesture. “How could she do this to us?” hung in the air like a bad odor, even if no one had the guts to say it.
Shayna shot me a tight smile. “And speaking of David. It’ll be interesting to see what he and the diva decide about their wedding. Seems wrong to me to go ahead with a wedding right after you bury your mother, but knowing David, he’ll do it anyway. ”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” I said. “There’s already been a snag. David and Lili probably wouldn’t be able to get married this month even if this hadn’t happened.”
“Oh, really?” she said. I could feel her eyes on me, hoping I’d divulge whatever it was that might keep her baby brother from getting married, but I knew better than to go down that road. Client confidentiality and all that.
We both stared at David and Lili, clinging to each other like the final scene in a Greek tragedy. What is it that compels people to rubber-neck car wrecks and replay YouTube videos of near-fatal misses? I wanted to take the high road and avert my eyes from their anguish, but it was nearly impossible to look away.
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