Belonging to Heaven, page 21
“Laie is a long way away.”
She kept up her rapid pace. “Only thirty some miles. We will probably spend the night in Kaneohe and go the rest of the way tomorrow.”
“Do your parents live at the Mormon settlement?”
These interruptions were becoming irritating. Hattie stopped and gave him a narrow look. “Yes. Do you see that as a bad thing?”
Kamuela looked crestfallen. “No! No, of course not. I’ve just heard my uncle talking about the work going on there—cotton, cattle, and sugar.”
“My father is in charge of the sugarcane plantation,” she said, a bit too imperiously. “And now, I really must be on my way.” She turned and started off down that path, glad that the young man did not follow. He was a nice enough sort of boy, but she wanted the day to herself with her mother and father. With her boarding at the school, and them living at the colony, she did not get to see them as often as she’d like.
“Have a safe journey!” the boy called.
Hattie raised her hand in the air and kept walking. As she came around a large planting of hibiscus bushes, she saw her father’s small two-horse carriage waiting at the main gate. Hattie ran. Decorum was forgotten. She picked up the corner of her skirt, put her hand on top of her straw hat, and ran. She called out to them, and her mother stepped down from the carriage and waited with open arms.
Hattie flew into her mother’s embrace, the two women laughing with the joy of reunion.
Jonathan watched the two with a look of perfect contentment. “A ‘ohe mea ‘imi a ka maka.” Everything I desire is in my presence. “So, daughter, how are your studies?” he asked in a mock serious voice.
Hattie stepped back from her mother’s arms. “I would expect as well as your work with the sugar.”
Jonathan laughed. “And of course neither of us is going to be as arrogant as the poloka frog who croaks its name all day long to no one.”
“That would be a tedious waste of time.”
Jonathan raised his eyebrows, and Hattie giggled. She went to her father and he leaned down, placing his forehead on hers. “I have missed you, my little guide.”
“I think of you every day.”
Jonathan was about to say something else when Kitty spoke.
“I hear the wind singing in the Nu‘uanu Valley,” she said softly. “I think it is calling us to be on our way.”
“Yes, we should be off,” Jonathan replied. “I want to be over the pali and into Kaneohe before the sun sleeps.” He helped his ladies into the carriage and settled himself into his seat. He picked up the reins and glanced back at Hattie who was making herself comfortable in the tight space of the back seat. “Are you all right, Panana? I know it is a small space.”
“I’m fine, father. I know the road is narrow over the pali. I would rather be cramped than to have the carriage wheels slide over the cliff.”
“Wise thinking.” He slapped the leads on the horses’ rumps and gave the command to walk on. Soon the horses were cantering along Nehoa Street and nearing the backside of the Puowaina crater. Jonathan looked back at his daughter and smiled. “As we pass the ancient volcano, Panana, do not let your imagination run away with you.”
“I like my imagination to run away with me. And I like the old stories. Tell me the old stories, Makua kane. Tell me the stories of the ali‘i bones that are hidden in Puowaina crater and of the kapu breakers that were sent there for human sacrifice in the ancient times.”
“Hattie Panana Napela!” her mother protested. “Have you not outgrown ghost stories?”
“Well, . . .”
“Wouldn’t you much rather hear a story of love?” Hattie gave a disgruntled look to the back of her mother’s head, but did not comment, and Kitty continued talking. “Soon we will pass by Mauna ‘Ala and the Royal Mausoleum.”
“Another place for bones,” Hattie grumbled.
“What was that?” her mother asked.
“Another great story of love! Queen Emma and King Kamehameha IV.”
“And dear little Albert,” Kitty said, a motherly tone creeping into her voice. “If heavenly beauty ever came to rest on any two children of the land, it was surely on King Kamehameha IV and his gentle queen, Queen Emma.”
Jonathan and Hattie shared a look, as Kitty always said the same thing when this story was told.
“Well, I say heavenly beauty came to rest on my parents too,” Hattie pronounced.
“Silly girl,” Kitty said, but Jonathan saw a grin brush the corner of her mouth.
“And the royal couple held beauty not only in their features, but in their hearts,” Jonathan added.
“Everyone knows this story,” Hattie said, leaning forward and patting her father’s shoulder. “Let me tell the next part.” She cleared her throat dramatically, and Kitty and Jonathan laughed. “The king and queen were very young when they married, but their love was deep.”
“They had known each other from childhood,” Kitty offered.
“They had known each other from childhood. But their desire was not for pomp or the things of the world; their desire was to help their people. So many Hawaiians had died from sickness that the king and queen wanted a hospital where the children of the land could get the best of care.” Hattie stopped her narrative. “Makua kane, many died from the smallpox when I was a little girl, right?” Jonathan nodded. “But, I didn’t die.”
“You did not have the smallpox.”
“But, I was very sick.”
“Yes.”
“But you and Mekanele Cannon gave me a priesthood blessing.”
“Yes, I have told you that story many times.” He turned his head to glance at her. “Do you have memories of Brother Cannon? You were very young when he left.”
Hattie brightened. “I think I remember that he sang to me, and that he helped me build a little sand house down by the water.”
Jonathan’s voice filled with tenderness. “Yes, that was on your first birthday. You are a clever girl. I cannot believe you remember that.” He clucked to the horses who were slowing their pace. “I don’t remember much before I was nine or ten.”
“Were you ever a little boy?” Hattie asked in a shocked voice. “I always thought you were born old.”
“Hattie Panana Napela! Be careful in your teasing,” Kitty counseled. “You must always honor your father.”
“I do, mother. I do honor him.” She laid her hand on her father’s shoulder. “You know that I honor you, don’t you, Father?”
“Of course, my little guide.”
They turned up into the Nu‘uanu Valley, and the heat from the lowlands began to dissipate. Hattie took off her hat and let the cool breeze dry the moisture from her forehead.
“So, what happened to our love story?” Kitty asked. “We were just getting to the part where a child comes into the lives of the royal couple.”
Hattie piped up. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. The ending is too sad with the little prince dying, and then just over a year later his father dying of grief and a broken heart.”
Kitty turned to her daughter and nodded. “Hmm. Perhaps you are right, Panana. It was devastation for Queen Emma to lose all that she loved. And, for a time, her grief overwhelmed her.”
Hattie let out a sharp breath of air. “So sad.”
“But there is a lesson to be learned from our great queen,” Jonathan said. “She did not let grief keep her in the dark valley. She honored those she loved by getting out and serving her people. It has only been five years since the tragedy, but we hear all the time of the queen’s involvement in some new service.”
Hattie put her face toward the breeze. “I know. She is kind and brave.” She looked back and forth between her parents. “I don’t know if I could ever be so brave.”
Kitty turned sideways in her seat. “We do not know how strong we are until we are tested,” she said with a gentle smile.
Jonathan encouraged the horses to a faster pace. “And Queen Emma has her faith. She knows that heaven and her family are waiting.”
“It still has to be lonely without them,” Hattie said on a sigh.
The three sat in silence for the next few miles, experiencing cooling shadows as the forest thickened, and listening to the clop clop of the horses’ hooves on the hard-packed road. Jonathan liked that he and his girls could chatter about many subjects, or sit in comfortable quiet, not needing conversation to tie them together. Kitty hummed a mele, and Jonathan wondered if she would sing it at the celebration. Perhaps she and Hattie would dance! He glanced at Hattie in the backseat. She had taken a book from her satchel and sat dozing and reading in turn. How he loved them. He thought of what his daughter had said about Queen Emma—about how lonely she was without her husband and little boy. Jonathan knew he would feel the same, for even though his mind understood the precious doctrine of eternal sealing, he was sure his heart would languish with the pain of separation.
The sky was clear and the breeze was increasing as they traveled up the valley. Jonathan thought ahead to when they would come to the crest of the mountain, the cliff dropping away a thousand feet to the valley floor. If a person dared, and the wind was not too forceful, one could go near the edge of the precipice and look out for miles over a lush, carpeted valley to the ocean. Hattie always wanted to see the view, much to her mother’s worry. Today they would not have time to stop. They would reach the top of the cliff and follow the narrow road to the right. The packed path hugged the face of the cliff and precariously wound its way to the valley floor. Today there was no rain and the road would be dry. That would assure good footing for the horses.
“Be careful, Makua kane!” Hattie suddenly said in an excited voice. Jonathan and Kitty jumped, and Hattie laughed.
“Ah! Little trickster!” Kitty scolded. “We thought there was danger.”
“There is danger,” Hattie warned, her voice becoming slow and mysterious. “We will be to the Nu‘uanu Pali very soon, and we must be on the lookout for mo‘o wahine.” She laid her hand on her father’s shoulder. “Especially, my father. There are many lizards here, and any one of them could be mo‘o wahine.”
“I do not fear the lizard demon even if she is transformed into a beautiful woman,” Jonathan answered.
“Oh, but the lizard woman must be feared, especially because you are a man. The beautiful lizard woman hates all men. She would lure you to the edge of the cliff and throw you off! She would throw you down into the mist, and your body would fall and fall until it smashed on the rocks beneath.”
“Hattie Panana, that is enough!” Kitty scolded.
Hattie ignored her. “Your bones would mingle with the bones of the six hundred warriors who fought the last battle of Oahu, and your cries would join their cries of anguish that howl up over the pali like rushing wind!”
Jonathan laughed, and Kitty scolded him too. “Do not encourage her.”
“I like her story, “Jonathan defended. “Besides, mo‘o wahine cannot tempt me, for I have the most beautiful women here with me in this carriage.”
“Do not try and turn my thinking,” Kitty stated. “No more stories about evil lizard women, or bones, or howling.”
“But, what of the gruesome story of the last battle? I am sure our daughter would like to hear of the fierce warriors of Oahu fighting bravely against Kamehameha I,” Jonathan teased.
“No. Our daughter may not have lapu, ghost, dreams in the night, but I do not wish the angry spirits to visit me.”
“Oh, the trip will be so boring now,” Hattie lamented.
But, it wasn’t. When they reached the barren heights of the Nu‘uanu Pali, Jonathan turned the horses onto the narrow, descending road, and soon the carriage transported the family into a wonderland of trees, vines, flowers, and waterfalls. The cooler air of the heights soon disappeared, replaced by warmer air saturated with the smell of leaf and flower. The three sang together: songs of the kings and queens, songs of the ancient ways, songs of their Maui home. And when the steepest and narrowest part of the road was behind them, Jonathan stopped the horses under a stand of kukui trees by a stream, and Kitty brought food out of the calabash pot.
“Rice balls!” Hattie exalted, taking the succulent food from her mother.
Jonathan agreed. Soft sticky rice mixed with grilled fish and pineapple. He had liked rice from his first tasting, even though most natives did not care for the starchy grain. Asian workers, immigrating to the islands to work on the burgeoning sugarcane plantations, had brought with them a disparate culture and unique food, and although he could not embrace some of the flavors, Jonathan found rice delightful. As he munched away on his supper, he thought of all the changes that had come to the islands—even in just the short sixteen years since Hattie had been born: the arrival of new faiths, cultures, and languages, new buildings and industries, the rise of parliamentary government, and the diminishment of the Kamehameha dynasty. Like many Hawaiians, Jonathan worried that the land and the Hawaiian sovereignty was seeping like sand through the hands of the kahaku maoli, children of the land, but he also knew that pushing back change was as impossible as pushing back the huge winter waves at Kawela.
The late afternoon sent long shadows into the clearing, bringing Jonathan from his reverie. “Time to be on our way. Brother and Sister Winston expect us before nightfall.” He chuckled to himself as he saw brightness come into Hattie’s face.
“We’re staying at the Winstons’ for the night?”
“Yes, and they still live in the big house by the ocean—the big house that has a water closet with a bathing tub.”
“Oh, piffle. I don’t care about any of that,” Hattie protested. “I just like their funny old dog.”
Kitty gave her an odd look, but Jonathan laughed.
“Hattie Panana Napela, you are sunshine.”
***
After a night at the Winston’s with a good meal, a moonlit swim in the ocean, happy conversation, and singing, all went to bed tired and content. Jonathan awoke before dawn and, with the old dog as his companion, he went out to the seaside to say his prayers. He thanked the Lord for his many blessings, for the increased production at the Laie plantation, and for the celebration day, which had dawned fair. There was a cool breeze blowing and no threat of rain.
Upon his return to the house he found the others awake and busy. Sister Winston was organizing her troops for the trip to Laie. Her four children, who ranged in age from four to ten, were scrubbed, schooled in their mother’s expectations of behavior, and set to tasks. Hattie had also been assigned to help cook breakfast, and to pack the handiwork in the wooden crates. In preparation for the celebration of the new sugar mill, Sister Winston had sewn tablecloths, table runners, wash cloths, dresses, baby clothes, pillow cases, and quilts for use by the members of the colony. Idle hands were considered worse than cursing in the Winston household.
Jonathan liked Sister Winston. She was demanding, but never harsh, and her family seemed to thrive under her command. Brother Winston was a quiet fellow who admired his wife’s abilities.
Hattie was hauling another box of handiwork to the Winston’s wagon as Jonathan approached. She gave him a narrow look. “And where have you been all morning?”
“Prayers,” he answered coolly, smiling at her. “And it’s only been an hour.”
“A‘ohe lolena i ka wai ‘opae.” No idlers when there is work to be done.
Jonathan chuckled and took the box from her, putting it in the back of the wagon. “Where is your mother?”
“Doing dishes. I think she’s kept some breakfast for you.”
“Good. I’m hungry.”
“Well, eat quickly and get to work.”
“Bossy as the Kona winds,” he answered, turning to go into the house and nearly bumping into Brother Winston.
The haole man stammered an apology. “Oh! Brother Napela! I am sorry. I . . . I was just on my way out to the hog shed. Sister Winston says we’re to bring along three young pigs to replace the ones eaten at the feast.”
“That’s not really necessary, Brother Winston. We have quite a herd of pigs at Laie now.”
Brother Winston seemed momentarily perplexed. He blinked several times. “Well, Sister Winston thinks it’s a good idea.” He edged off. “So . . . I’d better just go and get the pigs.”
“Perhaps that is best. Your wife is a wise woman.” He saw a smile plant itself onto Brother Winston’s mouth.
The next half hour was filled with activity as the rest of the things were loaded, and everyone readied themselves for departure. Jonathan, Kitty, and Hattie climbed into their carriage, while the Winston family loaded into their wagon. The four-year-old sat on the buckboard with her mother and father, while the rest of the Winston children sat in the back of the rig with the food baskets, boxes of handiwork, the old dog, and the pigs.
“We are all ready here!” Sister Winston called, waving a white hankie in the air.
Jonathan gave the horses the command to walk on, and the procession started. He was excited for the day. It was a beautiful ride along the seacoast and, in three to four hours, they would be with the Saints in Laie. It had been a good year for rain, and the crops had done well. He and President Nebeker estimated that the mill could produce eighty to ninety tons of sugar and five thousand gallons of molasses, which would help them through much of their debt and possibly leave a surplus. They hoped to market the sugar to the Saints in Utah, thus having it be mutually beneficial to all involved.
Jonathan looked to his left, to the Ko‘olau Loa mountains, and was enchanted by the sight of a pearly mist swirling within one of the ravines. It made him think of the hikes he and Brother George had often taken into the Iao Valley. That time seemed ages ago, and Jonathan pondered the many changes that had occurred in each of their lives. Upon returning to the Salt Lake Valley, George had married his Elizabeth Hoagland, and shortly after that, the couple had been called to serve a mission to San Francisco. It was then that his friend worked on publishing the Hawaiian Book of Mormon. Ka Buke a Moramona. Brother George had sent him one of the first copies, and Jonathan would never forget tearing off the brown mailing paper and holding the precious book in his hands. He’d opened the cover and run his fingers over the sacred words, weeping to see the words in his language, weeping as the Spirit testified of its truthfulness. That truth had brought him to the gathering place in Laie, and the call to be the foreman of the sugarcane plantation and sugar mill. Jonathan felt pleased to be able to serve the Lord and his fellow Saints at Laie, and, though he knew that most of the six thousand acres the Church owned was underutilized and somewhat barren, he could see progress and potential. They had forty-five acres of sugarcane planted with a hundred more waiting for the plow; there were kalo fields, pasture land for grazing the cattle and sheep, a plot of corn, and individual gardens. The actual settlement was a mixture of native thatched huts and wooden framed houses, and it was growing at a slow but steady pace. The two hundred or so Saints who lived at the colony were faithful, even though life at Laie was difficult. Jonathan thought over past discussions with President Nebeker about bringing water down from the mountains in canals or a flume and digging a series of artesian wells. When such plans were in place, they would not be at the mercy of the rain, and they could have an abundance of trees, plants, and flowers right down to the edge of the ocean. Jonathan grinned. An Eden setting would bring a sense of stability and serenity to the hearts of the people.
