by Di Morrissey
‘Jim and I are divorced. He’s married a bimbo, silly fool. Our kids are all grown up, so I thought back on my time here and I thought how much I liked Hawaii best. So I moved here. I’ve brought along a bunch of friends to meet you.’ She indicated a group of women beside her.
Catherine smiled and nodded to them all. ‘And Commander and Mrs Goodwin?’
‘Long retired. The commander has passed on, but Mrs G is still active, as you can imagine, in the navy wives’ groups in Washington DC. I don’t think the young wives are quite as subservient as we were, though,’ added Julia.
‘Oh dear, I always felt that I failed Bradley badly,’ said Catherine.
Julia looked down and then said candidly, ‘Did you know Bradley really wanted you back? He told Jim that he’d do anything for you.’
‘No, I didn’t know that.’
‘Yes. But the commander told him that he might have difficulty in getting another promotion if he did. I suspect that it was Mrs G’s influence. She never liked you. Frankly, I think your openness, your independent ideas and how you stood up to her, challenged her position.’
‘What an old witch,’ said Mollie, stepping in as she saw the expression on Catherine’s face. ‘Come on, I think your publisher wants you. Speech time.’
Catherine squeezed Julia’s hand. ‘Thanks for coming. I hope you’re happy.’
‘Hey, I’m in Hawaii, how could I not be?’ she said brightly.
As pupus were passed, her publisher, dressed in a new aloha shirt, glanced at his watch and raised a questioning eyebrow at Catherine. ‘Ready?’
‘I guess so.’
The music paused and, in the silence, guests gathered into a semicircle as the publisher went to the podium and lifted his hand. A spotlight fell on a young man who stepped forward. Catherine caught her breath. Silhouetted against the last of the sunset, the young man, dressed in a red lava lava and kukui nut necklace, a crown of maile leaves around his head, lifted a large conch shell. In that moment Catherine saw Abel John as the young man she had known. She realised that this must be his son.
As the haunting notes wavered and faded there was a crackling through the amplifiers and Eleanor’s voice rang out, reciting her prayer to the night. Catherine, wrapped in memories, faced the sea as the sun disappeared below the horizon.
‘Sorry, I should have told you,’ said her publisher.
‘That’s fine,’ said Catherine. ‘I never realised that there was a recording of Eleanor saying the night prayer. How wonderful to hear her voice again.’
Catherine paid tribute to Lester in her speech. She told the audience of his time as an Olympian and as a stuntman, but most of all she told them about the beauty of the Islands, their myths and their magic and the spell that they cast over all who landed on them and how this place caught Lester’s heart in particular. She told them of Lester’s love of the ocean and how he had dedicated his life to it, capturing many of his memories in his magnificent photos.
‘I hope,’ she said, ‘that he would approve of my telling his story.’
After her speech Catherine was surrounded by more well-wishers and the local press.
Later, as everyone settled down to enjoy the food and drinks, a tall woman with long hair, exotic jewellery, black slacks and a dramatic and colourful jacket came towards Catherine.
She recognised the woman immediately. ‘Sadie! You too. I don’t know if I can stand any more surprises.’ They embraced warmly and Catherine asked after Ginger and Summer.
‘Well, happy, last I heard. They’re in a little place in California called Joshua Tree, all sharing a big old house, doing interesting, alternative things – as you’d expect.’
‘And you, Sadie? Are you living here?’
‘No. One of life’s coincidences. I live in Europe, I travel a lot. I work and teach. I always try to stopover here, the old fascination. And I read about your book launch in the paper and recognised your photo. So you did it. Good for you.’
They smiled at each other.
‘I’ve thought about you, wondered where your path took you,’ said Catherine. ‘Much further afield than my small patch of country Australia, it seems.’
‘Yes, I’m a traveller. And a loner – but it’s how I choose to be. But your life sounds rich, fulfilled and happy.’
‘It is,’ said Catherine.
Mollie joined them, curious about the interesting-looking woman. Catherine introduced them.
‘Do you know what happened to any of your Aussie friends, the surfers? Damien was one I recall,’ said Sadie.
‘Ah, ask Mollie,’ said Catherine.
‘Well, I know that this might be a bit hard to believe, but years ago he joined my husband’s stockbroking firm, then struck out on his own as a futures trader,’ said Mollie and they all laughed. ‘Damien is now making more money than he knows what to do with. Married with kids, five-star lifestyle at the beach. He stills surfs at dawn every day, I’m told.’
It was late when Mollie and Catherine collapsed on the balcony of their suite. Mollie lifted her glass of champagne.
‘Here’s to you, kid. Queen of the Islands. You sold a bundle of books and we’ve met so many people that I think you know everyone here.’
‘It’s been overwhelming,’ sighed Catherine. ‘Now I can’t wait to get to Kauai and leave all the hoopla behind. Though to tell you the truth, I’m nervous about what I’ll find.’
The short hop to Kauai wasn’t long enough for Catherine to readjust from the excitement of the book launch and modern Honolulu but she was pleased to see once again the familiar outline of the Garden Island.
Mollie glanced at her face and, seeing the impact the sight had on her good friend, she started to softly sing the chorus of ‘Memory’ from the famous Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.
‘Oh, cut it out, Mollie,’ said Catherine.
‘Ah, Cathy. We all have memories of old romances, old adventures. Most of us don’t revisit them though, I guess.’
Mollie had make the arrangements and had booked them into an upmarket hotel out at Poipu. As she pulled the car into the private entrance of the hotel she exclaimed, ‘Just as well there’s valet parking, there’s not an inch to park anywhere near the beach.’
‘It’s all reserved for apartments and hotels. Where do the locals get to park?’ wondered Catherine. ‘This used to be such a remote stretch of beach. We used to run through a pineapple plantation to get there. There was a gorgeous mansion on the point and the boys used to surf there and use the private beach and garden.’
‘Talking of surfing, when are you going to see if you still have it, babe?’ asked Mollie as she handed the car keys to the attendant.
Catherine smiled. ‘Oh, I think that’s all in the past.’
‘Dare you. Bet they hire out surfboards here.
Anyway, I’m going to hit the pool, then lunch, then a siesta.’
‘Oh, I can’t wait to go to Hanapepe, it’s not far.’
‘C’mon, Cath, relax. It’s been full on. Take time out first.’
Catherine knew Mollie was right. So, after settling into their luxurious suite they changed and set out to explore the lavish hotel and its grounds at the edge of the beach.
‘I’m going in that pool. Look at it, it’s even got a grotto and waterfall in the centre,’ said Mollie, taking command of two chaise lounges under a thatched umbrella.
‘I’m going for a walk, I might go in the ocean. Keep my place,’ said Catherine.
She stood on the strip of beach in front of the hotel shading her eyes, watching the break and sets of waves. A hotel lifeguard smiled at her.
‘Want to go for a canoe ride? Or hire a board?’ he said lightly.
‘What kind of board?’ asked Catherine.
‘Surfboard, lady. You know, for riding the waves.’ He was young with a body that said, Look at me, I work out at the gym several times a day and think I’m a great hunk. He probably fancied himself as a model or actor and idly she wondered if steroids
had contributed to his extreme body shape that was bronzed, hairless and oiled. Suddenly an image of PJ’s beautiful, naturally proportioned body and halo of gold hair flashed into her mind.
‘If you’ve got a seven or eight footer I wouldn’t mind trying it out,’ she said. ‘Or a mini mal.’
He did a short double take. ‘You know what you’re doing? Don’t go out too far, there’s a bit of a swell off that point. You stay in close now, you hear?’
Catherine ignored him as the boy brought out a board for her to use. She looked at it carefully, running her hands along its length, checking the workmanship. It was mass produced with a cursory finish. Nothing like the hours of work Lester and PJ had put into their boards.
For a moment she thought what she was doing was insane and wished she hadn’t risen to the bait of the arrogant young man. Nonetheless, as he was watching her from behind his mirrored glasses with an amused smirk, she picked up the board and carried it to the water’s edge. She stood and waited, studying the water, and soon she forgot about the young man, the tourists, the shouting children and fixed her attention on the waves.
Then she was on the board paddling through the shallows, going through the small low break and out to where the sets were rising and rolling. The rhythm and balance had come back to her within minutes. Like riding a bike, she thought to herself. Your body remembers.
There were several men and two girls out there. They looked at Catherine but were far enough away not to pay her much attention. While she wasn’t as fit as she once was, Catherine was still slim and she’d always been strong. With her hair pulled back in a pony tail, from a distance she could be any age.
She picked a modest wave and although she wobbled – her legs were not as powerful nor her feet as secure as in the past – she was up and rode a short distance before cutting back to get out further and try for a bigger wave now she had some confidence back.
She stayed in the waves for nearly an hour and by the time she paddled back into the beach and carried the board back to the lifeguard station her legs were shaking and her arms were aching but she was exhilarated. She signed for the board, ignoring the lifeguard’s stare, before she went to find Mollie who was dozing beneath the umbrella. Beside her was an empty cocktail glass that had held some coconut concoction with a pineapple stick and cherry on an umbrella left in the bottom.
As Catherine settled on the other lounge Mollie opened an eye. ‘So? Did you have a go?’
‘I sure did. I’m wrecked,’ she laughed.
Mollie sat up. ‘You mean you went surfing and you didn’t tell me? I wanted to take a picture. Go back out again.’
‘No way. My surfing days are over. Once every thirty years is enough for me,’ said Catherine. But she couldn’t help grinning. ‘But it felt good that I could still do it. I showed that lifeguard. What’re you drinking?’
‘Mauna Kea Fantasia. Killer cocktails. Not to be taken before surfing.’ Mollie lifted her hand to a pretty waitress in shorts and an aloha shirt. ‘Two more of these, please.’
‘There’s the turn-off. Heavens, it still looks pretty much the same, except that the road’s paved.’
‘Only just, the side bits aren’t and there’s not much of a footpath,’ said Mollie, easing into the main street of Hanapepe. ‘Heavens, more chickens! There are chooks all over this island. Outside shops, in parking lots, even along the beaches.’
‘Yes, amazing. Stop here. Let’s walk. Oh gosh.’ Catherine was thrilled to find this tiny village more or less as she remembered. ‘Oh, they’ve restored the old pool hall. And there are a few more galleries and shops.’
‘It’s pretty sleepy. But cute,’ said Mollie getting out of the car to follow Catherine.
Catherine stopped and pointed to a pretty colourful two-storey house. ‘That’s The Joss House. And that little café used to be Molo’s.’
Mollie trailed behind as Catherine went in and out of the shops and galleries that were open. There wasn’t another person in the street. A few chickens pecked in the gutter. She asked the man behind the counter in the café did he know of Molo.
The man nodded. ‘Yep. He’s got a house on top of the hill, near the Japanese cemetery. But he’s away on the mainland. Come back next month.’
‘Can I leave him a note, please? Would you give it to him when you next see him?’ Catherine scribbled a note on the pad the man gave her and he put it on the shelf.
‘You old friend of Molo?’
‘Yes. I stayed here once. Down the road in the old Joss House. Do you know Miranda? She had a gallery there. Very attractive woman, red curly hair.’
He shook his head. ‘But there’s a lot of ladies here. All them arty places run by single ladies.’ He grinned.
‘What’s with the chickens everywhere?’ asked Mollie.
‘Dey all escape da farms in Hurricane Iniki in ’92. You want chicken souvenir?’ He pointed to postcards, mugs and tea towels decorated with chickens.
‘We’ll pass on the chooks, thanks,’ said Mollie.
The old swinging bridge, recently repaired, dangled over the river but Mollie refused to walk across it. They marvelled at a house that was a collection of art pieces and eccentric architecture. An old black pick-up truck painted with raging flames along the bonnet and sides had its open back filled with dirt from which spilled trails of scarlet bougainvillea.
They drove up the hill and took more photos of the view out to the ocean.
‘Anything else?’ asked Mollie.
‘I guess not,’ said Catherine. ‘I keep expecting to see the people I knew here looking exactly as they used to.’
‘Well, at least this is one place that hasn’t been buried under cement. Let’s go and see Aunty Lani. They’re hanging out to see you.’
It was a small house tucked next to a small plantation shadowed by high cliffs into which red and green whorls had been carved by the wind and rain. A lone coconut palm waved by the front gate.
As they turned in off the road, the old couple were waiting for them. Uncle Henry was stooped and grey haired and Aunty Lani as energetic as ever.
‘I’ve been telling Uncle ’bout that party. He loves your book, Catherine.’
‘I was so glad you came over,’ said Catherine. ‘Sorry you missed it, Uncle.’
He was smiling broadly, his eyes sparkling and he couldn’t speak as he embraced her.
They settled themselves on the porch facing the magnificent mountains.
‘You’re not lonely out here, Aunty? You seem far away from things.’ Catherine was thinking of their house near the beach back on Oahu which had always been filled with people, where there always seemed to be food or a party and music happening.
‘This is the land they gave us. Because we are Hawaiian people,’ said Aunty. ‘This is our land now, no-one can take it away. We have a ninety-nine year lease, so even our children can live here.’
‘That’s if they want to live out here,’ said Uncle Henry. ‘We’re not so far from Beatrice’s house and we still got lotta friends here. Miss my kids on Oahu, though.’
‘Kiann’e comes to visit a lot doesn’t she?’ said Catherine.
‘Yep. She becoming a very important lady in the Islands now. She going to get us sovereignty. Now you girls eat up this haupia cake.’
The time flew by, Mollie made Uncle giggle like a schoolboy with her jokes and teasing. He kept slapping his knee and shaking his head.
‘You bring dis girl back. She good medicine, Catherine.’
Mollie carried the plates inside and Uncle followed her. Catherine reached over and took Aunty Lani’s hand. ‘It’s so good to see you. I hadn’t realised how much I missed you all. I’m going to bring my girls over to the Islands to see you.’
‘You do that. Maybe you write another book, eh?’
‘I don’t think so, Lani. I’ll take some photos though.’
‘That’s a good thing you do that book. Poor ol’ Lester. Too bad he never see it.’
‘I think
he knows. He must have left me his albums for that reason.’ Catherine sighed. ‘I think he must have been lonely in his old age. He lived such a long time. And no family. Though, you know, I found a letter in one of the scrapbooks. He really loved a lady once and he wrote her a letter, a beautiful letter, asking her to come back and marry him if she could only take him and how he lived in the Islands as he was. But he never posted it.’ Catherine shook her head. ‘So sad. I wonder who she was. There were blank spots in the photo albums, like he’d removed the pictures of someone. It must have been her.’
Lani stared at Catherine. ‘You don’ know? He always love that lady. And in her way she loved him. But they never meant to be together, oh no.’
‘You know? Who was it? Who did Lester love so much?’ asked Catherine curiously.
‘Why, that be Eleanor, of course. They met in the war. But she was ambitious lady. She knew Lester never gonna change.’
Catherine drew a sharp breath. ‘Yet she came back to the Islands.’ Suddenly things she’d wondered about, things Lester and Eleanor had said, now made sense. ‘And she married Ed. Was she happy with Ed? And she looked after Lester.’
‘Ah, that much later. She and Ed were very happy. Both business people. Lester never had business head. Ed understood Lester, he loved Eleanor and she adored her Ed. Lester was someone she knew at a certain time in her life.’ Lani gave her a shrewd look. ‘People come into your life, they go, life goes on, eh?’
‘So that’s why she let him live in that apartment. That’s nice,’ said Catherine.
‘You been back to the Palm Grove?’ asked Lani.
‘No. That’s our last stop.’
Lani patted her hand. ‘Don’t be sad. Remember how it used to be. And we got a lot of good pictures and memories, haven’t we?’
‘Pictures up here.’ Catherine tapped her head.
Catherine remembered the last time she saw the Palm Grove and described again to Mollie the terrible tsunami, the water and the destruction of the hotel and the sadness at the loss of Abel John.
‘He always said something awful would happen because they started to clear the heiau,’ said Catherine.
‘You sure it’s on this road?’
