Belonging to Heaven, page 22
“Makua kane?”
Jonathan brought his thoughts to the present. “Yes, Panana?”
“How far to the plantation?
They had just passed Kahana, which was a sure marker of the distance. “What do you think?”
“Two miles?”
It was their old game. “More than two, but less than twenty.”
“Five miles?”
“More than five, but less than fifteen.”
“Seven miles?”
“More than seven, but less than nine.”
Hattie leaned forward and put her arms around her father’s neck. “Mahalo, Makua kane. I will try to be patient for eight miles.”
“Why don’t we sing a song?”
Hattie brightened. “We can sing about Opele ka moemoe!”
“I like that one,” Kitty said.
And so, for the next eight miles, the Napela family sang not only of Opele-the-sleepy-head, but of the magical menehune, and many other mele of mirth and wonder. As the music floated back to the Winston family, they joined in when they knew the song, and the miles passed agreeably for all.
Soon the company arrived on the outskirts of the colony. They passed acres of sugarcane, saw the sugar mill on a slight rise above the field, and continued on toward the settlement. Jonathan headed the horses toward their small frame house, where they would settle Hattie’s things and rest before the celebration. Brother Winston, on the other hand, turned his rig in the direction of the Mission Office. Sister Winston was determined to deliver the handiwork and the pigs to President Nebeker before even a word of celebration was spoken.
***
Jonathan had shown Hattie and the Winston family the sugar mill, explaining the machinery and how it worked and answering all the children’s questions. The young ones were especially interested in the twelve mules that were the mill’s power source. Hattie made everyone laugh by giving each mule a name like: Holoholona, brute. Or Pipi kauo, ox.
After the tour, their small group joined the assembled crowd at the front of the sugar mill for the dedication ceremony. Jonathan and Brother Hammond gave speeches, and President Nebeker gave the dedicatory prayer. It had been a grand afternoon, but Jonathan was glad to have the serious part finished. As the congregation dispersed, many of the men from the work crews came to thank him for his words and his leadership. It embarrassed him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his Kitty and Hattie smiling at his discomfort.
As the sun set a scarlet crown of lehua flowers on the head of the Ko‘olau Loa mountains, Jonathan walked to the feast with his sweethearts. He felt happy. He looked forward to the food, the singing, and the dancing. He tried to keep plans and projects out of his mind—for tonight he would think only of the roast pork, the sweet poi, his daughter’s delightful voice as she sang the mele, and his wife’s graceful hands as she danced the hula.
***
The next morning when Jonathan and Kitty awoke, Hattie was gone. Her kapa covering was neatly folded on her bed of mats, and her clothes had obviously gone where she’d gone. Jonathan went to look for her, thinking the ocean might have beckoned her for an early morning swim. He finally found her riding a mule around the sugarcane field. She saw him approaching on his horse and waved to him.
“Good morning, Makua kane!” She called.
He called back. “Good morning, Pulelehua.” Butterfly. He stopped his horse and watched with delight as Hattie manhandled her little mule to do her bidding. He was glad that his Panana did not let her pampered upbringing tarnish her unspoiled nature. When she and Kitty spent time at the big house in Wailuku, Hattie was treated like an ali‘i princess. As Hattie grew up, Kitty had insisted that her daughter be placed in the charge of the Protestant missionaries at the exclusive Mauna Ali‘i Seminary at Makawao. Hattie was never allowed to wear the loose-fitting holokus, but was always regally dressed in tight-fitting clothing of the European style. Kitty had also arranged for her to have a beautiful horse and to be taught to ride side-saddle. It wasn’t surprising then that Jonathan laughed out loud as Hattie reached his side, sweaty faced and triumphant, astride her unimposing little mule.
“Is this the same quiet pulelehua who flew so softly out of the house this morning?”
Hattie laughed with him. “I wanted to take a closer look at the sugarcane.”
Hattie slid from her mule as Jonathan dismounted. “Inspecting my work, are you?”
“Well, someone needs to keep an eye on you and make sure you’re doing a good job.”
Jonathan tied his horse to a sturdy bush, and Hattie did the same. Hattie slid her arm through her father’s, and they began walking. “And I must keep my eye on you, daughter. You are getting to the age when others will see the beauty of your character and your face.”
Hattie scoffed. “There is no need to worry about that.”
“Really?”
“Definitely not.”
“There are no young men at your school who talk with you or want to walk with you to classes?” Hattie hesitated a split second too long and Jonathan grinned. “See. I knew there would be someone.”
“Makua kane!” Hattie protested. “I only have friends.”
“Well, friends are good. Now, tell me about this one boy who is your friend.”
“Really, there is no one.” Jonathan raised his eyebrows. “Well, there is this one boy, Kamuela, who watches me and wants to talk to me, but I barely know him.”
“Is he a nice person?”
“I guess so, but I barely know him.”
“And does Kamuela have a last name?”
Hattie blew out a breath of air. “Kamuela Parker, if it matters.”
Jonathan stopped walking. “Kamuela Parker? Of the Big Island Parkers?”
“Yes.”
“He is a very wealthy young man, Panana.”
“Well, his family is,” Hattie countered.
“No, little sweet potato, Kamuela Parker has been raised by his grandfather, Mr. John Parker, and just a few months ago this grandfather walked the rainbow.”
“I am sorry to hear of Kamuela’s loss. I will have to tell him so when I see him.” She began walking again.
Jonathan walked with her. “Do you not know what that means, Panana?”
“That the young man has inherited his grandfather’s property.”
“Well, half of it. The newspaper articles say Kamuela’s grandfather left half his property to his son, John Palmer Parker, and the other half to his grandson.”
“But why are you telling me all this, Makua kane? It doesn’t make any difference to me.”
“It does, Panana. If this boy is interested in you, then I must be sure of his character. And often wealth does terrible things to a person’s character.”
Hattie stopped and gave her father a narrow look. “I do not know Kamuela Parker very well, but I think he is a good person. He did not say one word about his property or wealth when he talked to me; in fact, he seemed to like it when I told him we were all little fish in the big Moloka‘i fish ponds.”
Jonathan laughed. “You told him that?”
“I did.” She took her father’s arm again. “So, stop worrying about me.”
“Ah, Panana. I am afraid that is not possible.”
They walked up to the sugar mill and stood looking over the field of cane. Hattie complimented her father on the good crop and the progress that was being made at the colony.
“So, you were up early to inspect my work,” he teased.
She smiled. “Well, that, and . . .” She reached inside her satchel and brought out several stalks of cane. As she showed them to him, Jonathan watched as her smile faded and her look become thoughtful. “I . . . I wanted to plant some of these in your field. I want to be a part of your great work, Makua kane.” Jonathan immediately felt the press of tears and could not speak. Hattie put the stalks back in her bag and laid her hand on his arm. “Will you show me how to plant them?”
Jonathan nodded. They headed toward a small stone cistern by the side of the field. It was a receptacle for rainwater and was nearly full. Jonathan filled a bucket, and the two continued their journey. He took his daughter to the end of a row of new plantings where slender green shoots had recently poked through the dark soil.
He cleared his voice of emotion. “Here is a good place. No one will bother them, and, if we give them extra water and pray over them, perhaps they will catch up with their taller cousins.”
“Wise thinking,” Hattie said.
Jonathan got down on his knees, and his daughter joined him. With his hands he dug a trench and extended the row, as Hattie got into her satchel and brought out five stalks. Jonathan took one from her.
“See these bands around the stalk?” She nodded. “Look for one that has a bulge or bud. That’s where the new shoot will come from.”
“Mine has one!”
“Good. Lay the stalk in the trench, long ways—like this.” He laid down his plant, and Hattie copied. “We will give it a little water, and cover it with soil, and let God do the rest.” Jonathan sat back on his haunches. “Now, you do the others.”
He watched as Hattie took the bucket and the other stalks to her piece of ground and carefully completed the planting. She came back to join him, a happy smile on her dirt-smudged face.
“Thank you for not laughing at my silly wish,” she said softly. He nodded, wiping the dirt from her cheek. “And, now it is time for the oli.” Her face held great expectation.
Jonathan stood and pulled Hattie to her feet. “I am not the best chanter,” he stated.
“Well, you are the best we have,” Hattie said bluntly.
Jonathan laughed and hugged her. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Looking out over the field to the ocean, he let the chant pour into his heart. He felt the mana of his parents, Hawaii Waaole and Wiwiokalani, and the power of the land. He called for a blessing on the new plants, on his wife and his daughter, on the unknown future that lay before them. And though he knew that life was uncertain, at this moment Jonathan felt that goodness surrounded him.
Notes
John Palmer Parker, paternal grandfather to Samuel (Kamuela) Parker, was born in Massachusetts in 1790. He came to the Sandwich Islands in 1809 and settled on the island of Hawaii. He became influential as a cattle rancher, and in the cultural and political aspects of the islands.
The battle of Nu‘uanu took place in May 1795. It is one of the final battles in Kamehameha I’s war to unite the islands. The army of Kamehameha pushed the Oahu defenders up into the valley that led to the Nu‘uanu Pali. Caught between the army and the precipice, it is estimated that between 500 and 800 Oahu warriors were pushed to their deaths.
In January 1865, Francis Hammond was authorized to purchase 6,000 acres of land at Laie from Thomas Dougherty for the sum of $14,000.
In ancient times a portion of the area of Laie had been a “city of refuge.” Often a person who violated a kapu was put to death, unless they could reach a pu‘uhonua, or place of refuge. Here they could be absolved of their crime by a kahuna (priest) in a purification ceremony.
Menehune are mythical little folks of Hawaiian lore. They live in the deep forests and hidden valleys, and are said to be gifted craftsmen.
Chapter 33
Salt Lake City, Utah
January 26, 1869
George Cannon was daydreaming. It was an occupation he rarely employed, but his office at Cannon and Son’s Publishing was cold this morning, and the snow stuck to the window in frosty patterns. This dream warmed him, and he closed his eyes again to recapture the clement atmosphere. He was standing in the ocean with Brothers Bigler, Farrer, and Keeler. Their thatched hale stood at a distance, and Nalimanui waved to him from the garden. The scene changed, and he was walking past Napela’s house in Wailuku, and Kitty Napela was calling out to him. He saw Brother Jonathan coming from the house and into the garden. He was carrying baby Hattie, and he looked joyful. George tried to breathe in the smell of the ginger as he moved into the garden to meet his friend.
“Elder Cannon?”
George opened his eyes and looked up into the face of the mail clerk. The young man looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, sir. I knocked, but there was no answer.”
“Not to worry, Brother Richardson. I was just tired of going over the accounting ledger. Letting the eyes rest a little.”
“Yes, sir.” Brother Richardson moved to the desk and verified the addresses on the envelopes before depositing the bunch into Elder Cannon’s mail tray.
“Anything interesting?
“Something from the Sandwich Islands, looks like?”
George sat forward immediately and reached for the stack of letters. “Really?” He went through the envelopes quickly, coming upon the one he wanted. “Ah, it’s from Elder Napela at the Laie plantation. Probably writing to tell me how well the work is going.”
“Your time in the islands must have been a wondrous adventure,” Brother Richardson said.
Brother Cannon opened the letter and sat back in his chair. “That is exactly what it was, Brother Richardson—an adventure into paradise.” He gave the mail clerk a crooked smile. “Now don’t think it was all eating bananas and swimming in the ocean. It was challenging and we worked hard.”
“Knowing your work ethic, sir, I wouldn’t question it.” The young man moved to the door. “I’ll get back to my work now, and leave you to your letter.”
George did not reply. He had opened the pages and was already absorbed in the first precious words from his friend.
Aloha, my dear Brother George,
I have news that might bring you joy. President Nebeker has counseled with me about traveling with him to the valley of the Salt Lake. We are bringing sugar and molasses to the Saints in Utah. We wish to show our dear Prophet Brigham Young that we have been working hard to build up our little piece of the kingdom. The rain has been good this year, and the sugarcane drinks in the water and the sun and grows. It is still a struggle in Laie, but we work with hope and patience because we love the Lord, and we love what The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints offers us. I have held in my heart a desire to take upon me the higher ordinances of the House of the Lord, and that is another reason President Nebeker says I should travel with him to Salt Lake. I would then have the endowment, and I would be able to tell my Hawaiian brothers and sisters of the great joy of being sealed to heaven. Kitty will not be traveling with me. She is fearful of crossing the great ocean, and she does not have the same desire to see the beloved Prophet and the city of the Saints. I do not know if my dear companion will ever become a member of the Church, Brother George. Perhaps she will not in this life, but she has always been a support to me.
I have received special permission from King Kamehameha to travel to America, and I am to make a report of my trip to him when I return. He is very interested in this great man, Brigham Young, who led so many people across the wilderness of America. President Nebeker and I will leave the island near the end of June and arrive in Salt Lake City sometime in July. President Nebeker thinks I should see the big celebration that is given for the pioneers who came into the valley on July 24. I hope we will be there in time. I am excited to cross the great ocean. I think I will feel like the ancients of my people who crossed the dark water thousands of miles to find a new home. I am tied to the land of my birth, Hawaii nei, but I am also tied to the kingdom of the Lord. It will please me to make a report to our great prophet and thank him for his kindness to the people of Hawaii.
I long to see your face, my dear friend. Is it truly almost twenty years since you set your feet upon the islands? How grateful I am that your feet found their way to Wailuku. Hattie desires to travel with me, but it is not possible. I know that she has written you letters, and that you have written to her. She remembers you singing to her and helping her build the house of sand on her birthday. She will be seventeen in March, and I think you would like her, Brother George. She is becoming a true compass, and many look to her for guidance. What I admire is that she does not croak her name like the pompous poloka frog.
We are working hard to make sure everything is ready for the voyage. I hope you are happy with the news that I will soon be in Utah.
Your brother in the Lord,
J. H. Napela
Happy with the news? George was elated! He read the letter two more times, crying and laughing with the correspondence and the memories the words evoked. He dried his face on his handkerchief, picked up his coat, hat, and gloves, and headed for the door. Ledgers and accounts could wait; he was much more interested in finding Joseph F. Smith and William Farrer and bringing them the happy news from the islands.
