Aloha Love

by Yvonne Lehman

  “So we’ll just make her as happy as we can.” Jane tapped the banister for emphasis. “Later we can focus on. . .adventure.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jane sighed. Well then, she never should have taken that unexpected adventure of a horseback ride on the beach with that sullen cowboy. But that was different. He hadn’t wanted her on that horse, and if she hadn’t been queasy, she wouldn’t have ridden with him. But. . .no more adventures. She would be right here for Pansy and Uncle Russell.

  ❧

  For the next few days, the women unpacked and settled into their individual upstairs rooms. A wide porch formed a balcony over the one below.

  “I’m surprised, Uncle Russell,” Jane said during the lunch that Pilar had prepared for them from food the church members brought in. “You have such a big house. Not that you shouldn’t, but I mean. . .I expected it to be more. . .”

  “Modest, I think you mean,” Matilda interjected.

  “I suppose so.”

  His eyes lit up with a smile. “Pansy and I are blessed. But you see, a preacher and a teacher have a community full of children—and adults, too—who often need a place to stay. But,” he explained, “this was a missionary house when it was first built. Four couples lived in it. As time went by, they left, went to other islands, or built their own new homes.”

  “So you’re really living more modestly than those who built new homes, aren’t you, Russ?” Matilda said.

  “To be honest, sister,” he said. “It’s not modesty that kept us here. We happen to like it, and it works to our advantage when there’s a visiting pastor. Also, we can invite people who come here for a short visit and even have room for Pansy’s Bible studies. We don’t have to leave and go somewhere else.”

  Jane had the feeling that was not a lack of modesty or convenience on his or Pansy’s part. They wanted to share their faith and whatever they had with others. “Thanks for sharing your home with us,” Jane said.

  “My pleasure. Each of you is a great blessing, especially to Pansy.” His smile at Matilda was affectionate. “Matilda has the best bedside manner of anyone in the world. Many a time, Pansy and I have talked about the poor and downtrodden—”

  “Oh, Russ,” Matilda scoffed. “Let’s talk about something uplifting.”

  Yes, Jane was thinking. Matilda was always the spark of life in any setting. Her telling about her many travels and adventures was better than seeing a stage play. Jane had wanted to be like her for as long as she could remember—at least, like the exciting, adventurous side of her.

  During the days that followed, Matilda relieved Uncle Russell of his almost constant attention to Pansy by taking turns with him reading to Pansy while she rested. Matilda spent as much time with her sister-in-law as the nurse would allow.

  Jane took over the job of accepting the food church members and friends brought in, glad she didn’t have to cook it. She took over the dishwashing, something she had rarely done, so she could organize and get the proper dishes back to the right people.

  After only a couple of days, Pilar started to the school, resuming her senior year studies.

  “What do you like best about it?” Jane asked her.

  Her dark eyes lit up with pleasure. “I’ve made a friend named Susanne. She wants to know all about America, and I want to know about Hawaii.”

  Rose MacCauley visited one morning. She and Matilda took a walk together. Jane could tell the two were friends already.

  That evening, Jane and Matilda sat in the swing on the porch, watching the sun set while Uncle Russell sat by Pansy’s bed as he did each night before she took the medication that would make her sleep.

  Matilda lightly pushed the swing with the toe of her shoe. “I asked Rose about the MacCauley tragedy.”

  “What was it?” Jane said. “Or is that confidential?”

  “Rose says the whole island knows. Mak’s wife was thrown from one of his racehorses. His workers had to keep him from shooting that great horse. If they’d sold it to anyone except the king, Mak probably would have shot the horse and the new owner.”

  Jane gasped. “He’s that violent?” She knew he was about as happy as a cow on its way to the slaughter house.

  “No, Jane, he’s not violent. It’s been three years since Mak’s wife was killed. And their unborn baby. Rose said he just can’t get over it, and if a woman comes near him, he runs in the opposite direction.” She sighed. “He’s such a good-looking specimen of a man. What a waste.” She shook her head. “Apparently, his letting you ride with him on that horse was nothing short of a miracle.”

  “Well, he didn’t have a lot of choice with his mother and Uncle Russell telling him to in front of everybody. I guess I’ve started off on the wrong foot with him.”

  Matilda nodded. “Rose said my mentioning your being a horsewoman, it just seemed the thing to do, and Mak was standing aside so she wanted to include him.”

  “He was quiet on the ride. Cordial, but I got the distinct feeling he’d rather have been elsewhere.”

  “According to his mother, he would. She says he’s trying to pay more attention to Leia, who is becoming quite an observant and outspoken young lady. He came to the dock because they asked him to. She thinks you would be perfect to teach Leia how to ride.”

  “I would love to teach her.” She shrugged. “But I guess he won’t be giving me any more rides. Or the time of day, since he might think I’m out to get him.”

  “Now, there’s the irony of this situation. That ring right there.” Matilda reached over and tapped the set with her finger. “That is why he will give you the time of day. You’re no threat. You can’t get any wrong ideas about him.” She leaned back and smiled smugly. “You’re already spoken for.”

  Jane huffed. “So, without even knowing me, he thinks I would be out to get him. But my wearing this ring means I’m about as significant as a. . .as a. . .doormat.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jane stared at Matilda, who lifted both shoulders and blinked her eyes innocently before focusing on the scenery ahead of them. Jane looked at the magenta sky, wondering if it were really that color or if she might just be seeing red.

  Eleven

  Pansy insisted they all go to church on Sunday and leave her at home. Her voice was barely audible because if she spoke in a normal tone, she went into coughing fits. While the nurse said coughing helped clear her lungs, the fits left Pansy visibly weaker.

  “If you’re needed,” the nurse reassured them, “I can run up to the church. After all, that’s where the doctor will be.”

  When she arrived at church, Jane found it interesting to see Japanese, Chinese, Koreans, and members of many other nationalities, as well as American and Europeans. Sometimes, walking down the streets in the town of Hilo she felt like a minority. The stares she and Matilda received made her feel like one. She had not, however, met one person who was unfriendly. Well, unless she counted the flower-hatted horseman.

  She almost laughed at that. He hadn’t been that unfriendly. And he could have ridden off on his horse without her. Come to think of it, why would he even want to come near a woman who threw up in his bandana and threatened to do so in his pocket?

  She wondered if he’d be at church, but when Rose and Leia came in and sat behind them, Mak wasn’t with them.

  Jane preferred to sit in the back where she could see everyone, but Uncle Russell wanted them to sit up front so they could easily be seen when he introduced them.

  Uncle Russell had already told them about the construction of the church’s walls. They were made of lava rock, three-feet thick, bonded together by sand, crushed coral, and oil from kukui nuts. It was more than one-hundred-feet long, forty-six-feet wide, and had a white steeple one-hundred-feet high.

  Although Jane wasn’t surprised by the elaborate way the women and men dressed, she was as surprised by the church as she had been by Uncle Russell’s house.

  “It’s a beautiful church. I’ve never seen anything like i
t,” she said, after turning in her seat to talk with Rose MacCauley.

  Matilda agreed. “Well, we don’t use lava rock much in American building because the few active volcanoes we have don’t erupt very often and are in remote locations. But this is so elaborate.”

  Rose nodded and smiled, looking very beautiful in her European-style clothes and big hat, under which her dark brown hair was perfectly groomed. “The king donated the land, so the construction had to be the best,” she explained. “Soon after the first missionaries came in the early 1800s, the queen became a Christian. She ordered all the sacred images destroyed. That’s when the people began to get rid of their false gods and accept Christianity. The places of worship had to be fit for a queen.” She smiled. “Or a king.”

  Before they could say any more, an organist began to play. A well-dressed man led a choir of men and women, and the congregation joined in singing, “O Worship the King.”

  Rose leaned forward, her face next to Jane and Matilda. “They’re not singing about Hawaii’s king.”

  Jane and Matilda smiled at her and at each other. Jane’s eyes wandered around the beautiful wooden walls, the middle aisle separating high-backed pews, the tall columns holding up a balcony on each side of the sanctuary.

  Soon, however, her thoughts focused on Uncle Russell’s sermon. She appreciated his straightforward approach which reminded her of Matilda’s way of not skirting the truth. Not that her preacher in Texas did that, but this sermon seemed more personal, something you could take home with you and think about. He talked about a servant’s heart, which is what his congregation had been showing in such special ways for many months after Pansy’s illness was diagnosed.

  “Even a cup of cold water to a thirsty person,” he said, “is very significant to our Lord.”

  His sermon made Jane uncomfortable. She’d always assumed she was useful to God, but she hadn’t thought of it in such specific terms before. She supposed these days of watching Matilda and Uncle Russell put Pansy’s needs ahead of everything else gave her a different perspective, too. She’d always said she wanted to be just like Matilda, but she’d concentrated on the adventurous side of her aunt.

  The next morning, determined to be more useful, she asked if she could read to Pansy for a while. Both Uncle Russell and Matilda later acted as if she’d done a tremendous good and said they had enjoyed having a cup of coffee together and discussing old times when he and Pansy, Matilda and her husband had cooked and fed the needy in the church fellowship hall after a big flood.

  Jane knew Matilda was good and generous, but she hadn’t realized the extent of her service to the poor and needy until Uncle Russell began bringing it up and Matilda kept trying to change the subject.

  Jane decided to take a walk while the doctor was with Pansy. School would be in recess for lunch soon, so she walked to the more secluded spot where the church, surrounded by lush foliage, was located.

  She was in the midst of asking God how she might be of more help to Pansy or Uncle Russell when the unexpected sound of horse’s hooves approaching her at the corner of the church startled her. She squealed and recoiled. Should she wait to be run over or dive into the bushes and hope for the best?

  “Aloha, Miz Buckley,” said a masculine voice she recognized with what she thought was a tinge of British accent and something else. She’d heard only three male voices and this did not belong to Uncle Russell nor the doctor, who was now with Pansy. Turning her head to the side, she saw a brown boot beneath a breeches-covered leg against a big brown stallion. Before she could lift her gaze higher, Mak MacCauley swung the other leg over the saddle and stood beside her.

  He held the reins in one hand and removed his hat. The wind blew his wavy hair toward his face. His eyes held an expression of curiosity. “Is someone behind the bushes?”

  He sounded serious. What kind of animals hid in these bushes? Was a fear of that why he and the big stallion had crept up silently until they were almost upon her? Without moving anything but her eyes she looked at the bushes and back at him. She whispered. “I don’t think so. Did you see. . .something?”

  “No. But you seemed to be talking to the bushes.”

  Okay, first time they met, she threw up. Now he saw her talking, apparently to a bush. “I was talking to God.”

  “God’s behind the bush?” He didn’t smile. “Do you think we should step back in case it bursts into flame?”

  Twelve

  Against her will, Jane’s mouth dropped open. The man who had been so aloof was cracking a joke? Or was he being sarcastic? Maybe they just didn’t speak the same language, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “If it bursts into flame we could run jump into the ocean. I suppose God could part the Pacific Ocean as well as part the Red Sea. But. . .that would be an awful long walk to the other side. It took five months in a ship.”

  He laughed, and she joined in. Maybe his aloofness the day she arrived had simply been concern about her illness.

  His smile vanished as if he had laughed in spite of himself. She gestured toward the bushes. “The bushes just happened to be here. Actually, I was thanking God that we arrived while Pansy is still alive and asking how I could be helpful to her.”

  With a slight nod he said, “That’s commendable.”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I think that’s what God tells us to be like.” She gave a small self-conscious laugh. “I’m afraid I’ve been quite pampered and spoiled.”

  He didn’t look surprised. Maybe she’d better change the subject. She turned again to face the bushes. “This is very beautiful.” She touched a leaf of the huge plant. She’d never seen leaves quite so large or glossy on what must be a bush since it grew on what appeared to be stalks instead of trunks. The leaves were about four inches wide and ranged from one to two feet long, Her gaze moved up to where some of the stalks were twice her height. “What is it?”

  “This variety is Cordyline fruticosa, a member of the lily family. There are several varieties. But this one,” he said, as she felt him watching while she touched one leaf after another, “this is a Ti plant.”

  “Tea? Oh, you make tea from this?”

  “No, no.” Mak laughed. “It’s spelled t-i, and some westerners call it ‘Ti’ with a long i. However, the correct pronunciation sounds like tea. Many of the native Hawaiians call it Ki.”

  “I’ve never seen a plant like this.”

  “It has many uses,” he said. “The Hawaiians used to use the leaves for roof thatching, weaving it into sandals, hula skirts, and even rain capes.” He touched a large leaf. “In the past and today, the roots can be baked and eaten as a dessert. Food is sometime wrapped in the leaves and cooked. There are many other uses, including medicinal. And,” he added, “they’re used to ward off evil spirits.”

  As her face swung around to look at him, she swiped away wisps of hair that the breeze had teased from her roll and blown into her face. “But that wouldn’t be why they’re planted around a church.”

  “Are you sure of that?” he teased.

  “Well, Pastor Russell said two-thirds of this island is Christian. And he certainly wouldn’t use plants to ward off evil.” She gave him a doubtful look. “He uses God’s Spirit.”

  “True,” Mak said. “But it all depends on who you want to come to church—those who already believe the Christian religion or those who believe the myths and ancient gods. The unbelievers wouldn’t come to hear the pastor because they believe in evil spirits. Even some of the Christians hang on to their superstitions.”

  “How can they be Christians and still be superstitious?”

  He gave her a look. “Ever hear of walking under a ladder, or a black cat running in front of you?”

  “I take your point,” she said. “Or breaking a mirror will give you seven years bad luck.” He was a handsome man. “Is wearing flowers on your hat a superstition?”

  “No, it just means we have a lot of them here. They represent this island.” He
shrugged. “Like that one star you have in Texas.”

  “One star?” Was he crazy?

  “Isn’t Texas called the Lone Star State?”

  “Yes, but that’s in the flag. And it’s bigger than any star you’ll find in the sky.” She emphasized that with a slight bob of her head. “Texas certainly has more than one star in the night sky,” she said proudly.

  He shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Most people say there are more stars here than anywhere in the world. And that comes from good sources since Hawaii is made up of peoples from all over the world.”

  “I’m not sure what a native Hawaiian is,” she said. “But you’re not, are you?”

  “Well, yes and no,” he said. “I was born here and raised here for most of my life. But my parents and grandparents on both sides are Scottish. I traveled with my dad to America when I was fourteen, then was sent to Scotland for my university years.”

  “I’m surprised there are so many nationalities here,” she said.

  “Many are like the Scots,” he said. “If you know our history, we’ve been without a country and traveled to other places, such as America. My ancestors came here. In fact, a young Scot became friends with the king, married a Hawaiian woman, and their granddaughter became the wife of a king.”

  “I had no idea,” Jane said.

  He nodded. “In past years, all the overseers of the sugar plantations were hired from the University of Aberdeen, Scotland’s college of agriculture.”

  Well, he seemed about as proud of Hawaii as she was of Texas. She could see he would be a good teacher, one who liked to explain things.

  “And our current princess, Victoria Kaiulani, named after Queen Victoria,” he continued, “is the daughter of Archibald Cleghorn, a Scotsman. She is half Scot and half Hawaiian.”

  Surprised, Jane said, “I’ve never been taught anything about Hawaii. All I know are a few stories from Pansy’s letters to Matilda.”

  He nodded. “Hawaiian history wasn’t written down until long after the missionaries came in the early 1800s and taught the people to read and write. Their history was handed down by them telling their stories throughout the generations.”