Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place'

by Robert Vaughan

  Abigail’s hand flew to her mouth in embarrassment, “Oh! I'm so terribly sorry, how clumsy of me!”

  The woman smiled warmly and shrugged, “Its fine- no pilikia. No problem.”

  As they both stooped to retrieve the fallen produce, Abigail looked at the woman curiously and asked, “Do I-? Have we met before?”

  The woman began to respond, and then hesitated, smiling somewhat mysteriously before answering, “No. Not this time. I am Pa’hia.”

  “Abigail. Abigail Matthews. Are you sure we haven't met? I just have the strangest feeling that I know you…”

  “‘Pa’hia’- that was her name. Apparently she is an honest-to-goodness Hawaiian 'kahuna'.” She frowned at Walter’s glowering response as he peered at her over his menu and then explained, “It’s not what you think, ‘kahuna’ simply means 'expert'. She specializes in Hawaiian-style weddings.” She turned back to Chris and continued, “So anyhow, we got to talking, and she taught me some Hawaiian words, and some of their culture, like this flower thing. And then the strangest thing happened. We were just saying goodbye, a friendly hug and all, and all of a sudden she got this funny look on her face- she said it was 'chicken-flesh'- goose-bumps, I suppose, and said that this only happens 'When the spirit was near…'. She kissed me on the forehead, and said 'Blessings to you- my daughter', and then just smiled and left.”

  Walter scoffed from behind his menu, “Abigail, I think you're getting just a bit too caught up in the local mumbo-jumbo.”

  “I don't think that it’s 'mumbo-jumbo' Walter. There's an odd magic here, and the locals are very much in awe and respect of whatever it is.” She turned to Chris for affirmation, “You've felt it too, haven't you honey?”

  Chris replied with raised eyebrows, nodding into his own menu, “There's definitely something weird about this place, that's for damn sure...”

  A pretty, brunette waitress approached the table, her dark green eyes framed in a stylish pixie haircut, and smiled engagingly at the group at the table, “Aloha, folks! May I get you all something to drink?”

  Walter replied, his eyes never leaving the menu, “Scotch, Glenlivet, neat.”

  The waitress flushed and said apologetically, “I'm sorry, sir, I'm not sure we have any-”

  Walter exploded and glared up at her in incredulity, “Are you KIDDING?! For God's sake- this is a five-star hotel! How in the hell can you not -?” Walter slapped the menu to the table in disgust, “Fine, then just bring me the best that you do have!”

  The waitress stammered, “Uh, certainly, sir.” She quickly turned to Abigail and inquired, “And for you ma'am?”

  Abigail gushed, “I'll have a Mai-tai! Make it a double!”

  The flustered waitress breathed a sigh of relief at her simple request and smiled, “Right away.” She turned to Chris, her soft smile turning flirtatious, “And you?”

  Chris smiled back with a wink, “Beer.”

  “You bet. Bottle or draft?”

  “Uh- bottle.”

  “Imported or Domestic?”

  Chris grinned, flirting back with a pair of dimples. “Something exotic, you pick, I trust you.” And then he winked again. The waitress blushed and backed away, nearly stumbling over an adjacent table as she left.

  Abigail put down her own menu, glanced briefly out the windows to the beach, and then turned back to Chris. “So, tell us about your day, dear. You said you saw the same girl what, twice- three different times?”

  Chris hesitated and then looked to Walter, paused again, and then said deflectingly with a slight shrug, “Oh, it was nothing, really- no big deal.”

  “But you said before...”

  Chris quickly tacked to change the subject, “Mom, why did you want a seat by the window?” He gestured outside to the deserted beach, where a pair of low-angled spotlights illuminated lonely waves etched in garlands of white foam, “There's not much to see. What's up with that?”

  Abigail’s eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline, “Heavens! Don't either of you boys read the brochures? Right out there…” she said, gesturing broadly, “... is where the sea turtles come to lay their eggs. Honu- that's Hawaiian for 'turtle', and Kai, which loosely means 'bay' or ‘water’, is what this area used to be called- Ring any bells? Honu Kai? 'Turtle bay'?” Abigail rolled her eyes at her men’s mutual lack of comprehension, “Anyhow…”

  A low, excited clamor began to come from the diners gathered near the windows, and Abigail’s voice rose to overcome the swelling din, “... for thousands of years, for all we know, the turtles have come right here- sort of like a migration, I suppose, to…” Abigail looked away from the table, her head craning about as she tried to determine the source of the hubbub, “What on earth is-?” Her gaze travelled out the window to the beach beyond, and she suddenly gasped and said breathlessly, her hand flashing to her mouth in surprise, “Oh, my goodness...!”

  A young girl’s voice suddenly rang like a bell above the buzz and rumble of the crowd. “Look, Mommy, look! Turtles!”

  Out on the deserted beach, a pair of glistening sea turtles had emerged from the waves- their wet, leathery backs shining blue in the moonlight as they appeared from the sea. Small wavelets splashed over them as they crawled out of the water and moved with instinctual determination toward the shadows, carving curving tracks into the wet sand as they slowly swam up the beach. And as they did the restaurant went oddly silent, even the musicians pausing to take in the spectacle, all eyes locked in amazement at the wondrous event. The turtles eventually disappeared into the shadows, and bits and pieces of conversation began to ramp back up as the world slowly returned to normal.

  Abigail whirled to Chris and Walter and said gushingly, “My goodness! Christopher, did you SEE THAT? I certainly never expected it to actually happen-! Wow...”

  Walter merely scoffed, and drained the ersatz scotch in a long, slow quaff, grimacing at the taste of the inferior liquor, “Sorry, I guess I just don't see what the big deal is...”

  An empty white plate sat on the table, the remnants of dessert imitating the surface of the distant Moon as it glowed high in the tropical night sky. A hand reached in and whisked the plate away as the pretty waitress departed, this time with a bright smile and a wink of her own back at Chris.

  Abigail sat back contentedly, delicately dabbing at her lips with the starched white linen. And then she tilted her head to one side, again almost as if listening to something, and leaned over to address Walter, asking obliquely, “Walter, honey, what time is it getting to be?”

  Not comprehending the significance, Walter considered his watch and replied tersely, “Nearly nine, Abigail- why?”

  Abigail rose smoothly from the table as the charcoal gray limousine bearing the Matthew’s logo glided silently into the driveway outside the lobby. She snatched the napkin from Walter’s hand and pulled him to his feet as she exclaimed triumphantly, “Because, my dear, we are going dancing!”

  Walter looked around in confusion. “Abigail, what on Earth are you talking about? There's no dancing here-!”

  Abigail bobbed her head from side to side and said with a sigh, “Oh good grief darling, give me credit for some ingenuity. You and I are going on a moonlight cruise, and we'll be dancing off Diamond Head by midnight!”

  “Abby, honey, I'm really not in the mood…”

  “Yes, you are. You just don't want to admit it. Come along now... say 'Good night' and let's be going. Come on, the driver's waiting...”

  Walter looked away, casting a fleeting glance at the waiting car. “Oh- I don't know…”

  Abigail fixed her gaze on her husband. “Well I do. Nothing is going to wash away the taste of a bad round of golf better than fine dining, expensive champagne, and dancing on a lovely ship- under the moonlight, with me...” And with that, Abigail firmly squired a clearly reluctant Walter out of the restaurant, slipping a sly hand into his back pocket as they approached the waiting limo. Walter swiped it away in irritation, and Abigail swatted him lightly on the rear in
retaliation. Walter jumped in surprise and then grabbed her arm, placing it gently around his waist as they tumbled into the car.

  Chris watched his parent’s departure with a hint of wry amusement, and it seemed for one brief shining moment that Walter’s dour armor had finally cracked, that he was actually having a good time. He stood and glanced at the check in his hand, noting with a slight shake of the head and a crooked smile the perfectly-formed kiss-mark framing the phone number on the back. As he looked back into the restaurant for the amorous waitress, a sudden gust of island breeze blew in through the lobby, scattering leaves and random flower petals across the floor, stirring his hair and again carrying with it the gentle, tinkling sound of wind chimes.

  Chris looked around for the source of the mysterious sound, listening intently as it echoed and faded, when another more clear and distinct sound replaced it. It was the exact same drumming, stamping and chanting that he had now heard on two previous occasions. And precisely as they had done before- the sounds abruptly stopped.

  Chris walked haltingly down the steps outside the hotel, pausing at random as he almost desperately searched out the source of the curious noises, the music and chants mysteriously starting and stopping, coming and going on the breeze. He eventually rounded a distant corner, only to hear them take up again, but this time they were significantly louder than ever before.

  And now he knew why.

  Chris stopped and stared, the hair on his head tightening as a tingling shock of a distant memory rose up from his core, the sounds that had tormented him now disturbingly familiar- for now he had found its’ source. In the courtyard below him, the Luau was underway, the thronging audience watching in rapt attention as a dual chorus line of brightly attired hula dancers emerged from the wings, stamping and waving in complement to the music. Chris’ gaze travelled quickly along the line to his left, his eyes riveting on the now-familiar girl in the lead- it was Alani.

  Chris stared at her, captivated, a deer in the headlights, watching her in fascination as she danced. Her movements were mesmerizing, fluid, hypnotic and sensual- a flame in the wind, her graceful body and glossy hair moving in perfect union with the rhythmic thumping of the drums. The music steadily built in volume and tempo, resonating in the dim recesses of his mind, a distant echo of faint remembrance, a sharp memory of a time long forgotten, and suddenly the world faded around him and focused down to the stage. He felt a sharp tug of connection across the distance as Alani suddenly looked up and her gaze locked briefly with his. And as it did the sounds of conversation and music abruptly dimmed around him…

  And again the world shifted…

  … Reverend Christopher Jenkins peered cautiously through the tangle of leaves to the flickering fire beyond, the low chants and rhythmic thump of drums ringing in his ears as he watched the scene with a conflicting mixture of fascination and dismay. Around the fire, a single dancer stamped and swayed, her hips swinging and arms rising and falling as they told an ancient story- a story which Jenkins was now all-too familiar…

  “…the ‘ale ‘ale,” she had explained, “…requires that the arms move slowly, rising and falling, the motion starting at the shoulders and traveling down to the tips of the fingers- like so…” Leilani demonstrated as she spoke, her movements disturbingly sensual in their fluidity and grace. Leilani continued, her voice soft and lyrical, her pronunciations of his language tinged with a hint of the exotic, “…after the ‘ale ‘ale, we move into the ‘lewa’, to show the arrival of the canoes, the movement of the sails, the trees, and the breeze.” Leilani’s hands deftly conveyed each image, one atop the other in a perfect representation of the ancient outrigger canoes that had transported these mysterious individuals here so very long ago…

  …Jenkins moved to better his position, stepping closer to see the subject of his study more clearly. A twig snapped, the sound ringing crisply in the jungle, and he flinched in fear as the chants and drumming abruptly stopped, the sounds echoing off into the surrounding darkness. Leilani’s eyes snapped open, wide with alarm as she stared into the trees, frozen in the firelight, and she saw him…

  And the world snapped back to the ‘now’.

  Chris’ gasped and he caught his breath as his heart pounded in his chest, this disturbing new vision disorienting him and causing him to stare around wildly in confusion as he swam back to reality. He shook his head as his vision cleared, and as he did he saw Alani stumble on the stage, nearly toppling the nearest in her line of dancers, quickly recovering and flashing a tight, half-second smile in his direction, hastily exiting as she led her line back offstage. Chris strained to see her as she left, his mind still roiling, struggling to resolve and comprehend this new and arresting vision, one that he now suspected with a shock of realization that she had perhaps somehow shared as well.

  He paused in introspection of this startling revelation and then nearly jumped out of his skin as the music and lighting suddenly changed, exploding into a wild drumming and fervent chanting as several fire dancers emerged to the wild cheers of the luau guests.

  The flames spun and swirled, the movement of the fire blending into a seamless pulsating form of blazing yellow, throbbing orange and flashing white. The ranks of stamping and chanting men wove themselves in complex patterns of an intricate and dangerous choreography, finally forming a single line across the middle of the stage, their brands whirling in unison to the thundering applause of the audience.

  The line of fire-dancers split at its’ center and Alani emerged again, this time solo, weaving in and out of the lines of spinning flame, deftly darting, merging and interlacing among the dangerous spinning flames with amazing fluidity and grace, and again Chris’ heart raced as the recent vision flashed through mind like a distant memory. The music built and built to a crashing crescendo, the drumming increasing to an almost deafening volume, and then suddenly, quite suddenly- it stopped. The stage went black to riotous applause and wild cheers, and when the lights slowly restored- Alani was gone.

  Chris wandered aimlessly down the steps at the rear of the hotel, alone in his thoughts, still trying to rationalize the bizarre occurrence at the luau, the images fading like a slowly receding memory. But even after they had faded and gone, a strangely different sensation remained. Unlike before, this time they had left a distinct aftertaste of emotion, a conflicting mixture of lust and revulsion, hope and desire, all overlaid with a profound sense of purest love and underscored with a heart-wrenching impression of both loss and despair, the feeling so strong that a well of tears suddenly burned in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.

  Blinking to clear the unexpected upwelling of emotion, Chris’ found himself walking next to the glittering azure pool, where a boisterous crowd of late-night swimmers laughed and played. He drifted to the pool-side bar and deliberately sought out a solitary seat at the end.

  An attractive, fortyish barmaid approached, wiping a glass with a towel as she appraised her guest with a warm smile of approval. “Aloha! Welcome, what can I get you?”

  Chris paused, considering something stronger than his usual, perhaps tonight even a double, and then replied distractedly, “Beer.”

  “Sure thing. Bottle or Draft?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Coming right up.” The barmaid turned, her gaze lingering, and left.

  Again alone with his tumultuous, tortured thoughts, Chris looked away from the bar, taking in the scene around the pool. Animated conversation between lovely couples, a dull roar of laughter from ill-clad businessmen, the shriek and tinkle of children’s voices as they splashed and played only served to darken his mood, his mind still flashing back and forth between the memories of the day and the recollections of the strange disturbing visions, which only functioned to further confuse and disturb him, and then finally drifting back to the bar, where the lovely barmaid now set a tall, frosty mug near his elbow. “That'll be six-fifty, hon…”

  Chris dug out a ten, and handed it to her limply.

  The
barmaid made change from her top breast pocket, a golden nametag that read ‘Angel’ flashing as she dug out the money and placed it gently on the bar, slowly sliding it in front of him in an obvious attempt to engage his attention. “So- where ya from?”

  Chris replied, still distracted, a crooked grin and singular dimple creasing his cheek, “Huh? Oh- Boston. By way of New York.”

  “Beantown, eh? Cool. E Komo Mai.” Chris turned to her, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity at the unfamiliar phrase. Angel smiled and continued by way of explanation, “Means 'welcome'. Enjoying your stay?”

  “It's been... interesting.”

  “How so?”

  Chris just smiled deeper, his dimples expanding as he remembered the day. “It would take way too long to explain...”

  Angel leaned on the bar, exposing a lush and generous cleavage that Chris couldn’t help but notice with a slight raise of eyebrows as she said in a lower, sultry bedroom voice, “I've got time…”

  Chris hesitated, considering for a brief moment the possibilities of her entreaty, and then replied, “Well-” he started, almost committing to this new course of action, and then abruptly changed his mind, smiling a conciliatory smile, “Never mind, maybe later.”

  “I get off at ten,” Angel replied with a wink, clearly hoping he would pick up on the thinly veiled innuendo. She gave Chris a quick pat on the hand and moved off slowly, smiling and engaging an older couple that had taken seats at the opposite end of the bar.

  Chris turned his back to the bar and leaned with elbows on its edge, sipping at his beer as he snuck an admiring glance back at Angel’s shapely rear end. His inspections were interrupted by the arrival of two attractive tourist girls about his age, a slender blond and curvy brunette, who ordered drinks and perched on stools near him, tilting their heads together and whispering pointedly in his direction, peeking over their shoulders surreptitiously as they did. Finally mustering up a modicum of alcohol-fueled courage, the brunette leaned past her friend and addressed Chris with wide, blue eyes.