Belonging to Heaven, page 24
It is hard to believe, dear daughter, that soon I will be in the great city of the Saints. My heart cannot contain the joy to think I will be seeing Brother George. I hope he will have some time to spend with me as he is such a busy person now.
I have written to your mother about my travels, so now, when the two of you are together, you can talk about the new things I am sharing with you. I miss you both very much.
When you ride the mule out into the sugarcane, my Panana, please think of me.
Your loving Makua kane
Chapter 36
Kaneohe, Oahu
August 30, 1869
Brother George went with me into the Endowment House to be the translator for the important words of heaven. All the symbols of the endowment lesson teach me how to be a better person, my dear Panana, and I so want to be a better person. In the ceremony I wandered from the lowly earth to the splendor of God’s kingdom.
Hattie Napela put down the letter and looked into the attendant eyes of the old dog to whom she had been reading. “See, I am still his dear Panana even after two months of absence.” The old dog cocked its head from side to side as Panana spoke to it. She laughed. “My father is a very spiritual man, old dog. In the ancient days, if he had not been ali‘i, he would probably have been a kahuna.”
Hattie and the old dog sat together on the Winston’s wooden pier, enjoying the morning quiet and watching turtles poke their heads out of the turquoise water. Hattie also dabbled her feet in the cool water as she read her father’s letters. The old dog was not capable of these last two occupations, but he seemed not to mind.
“Now, let’s see—where was I?” The old dog lay down, and Hattie found her place in the letter. “Now pay attention to my father’s wise words.” She read. “I have tied myself to heaven, and I have also done the work of tying for King Kamehameha I. What a grand time it will be if we are all in heaven together.” Hattie stared down at the dog. “I wonder if that includes you?” The dog grunted and Hattie laughed. “You are not very respectful of my father’s words.” She laid her hand on the koa wood box that sat next to her on the pier, and thought of all her father’s letters inside. The wood had been polished to a soft luster, and Hattie ran her fingers back and forth over the surface, thinking of the months before her father would return to her. She shook her head and continued reading.
“Our king, Kamehameha V, is very interested in the Prophet Brigham Young, and I will have much to report about the great Utah leader when I return home. There is no location in the territory where his words do not fall. Every year he makes two trips to all the areas of the land to check on the people—to watch for their needs and to make sure they are doing right. He is very interested in education, and all the young go to school, and everyone can read and write. I have found the Latter-day Saint people to be good. There is no stealing, adultery, fighting, talking at night, or drunkenness. On the most part, I find them gentle like the Hawaiian people. If they are walking along and see a gate open they will go and close it. Even the children do this. I think it is the gospel that makes them so. And everyone has been very kind to me. The merchants are always trying to give me something for free.”
Suddenly the old dog sat up, its tail thump, thump, thumping on the wooden boards. Hattie jumped.
“Oh, dog! You scared me.” She turned to glance at what the dog was looking at and saw Mrs. Winston standing at the back of the big house, waving her handkerchief. Hattie could barely make out her words, as her voice came from a distance.
“Woohoo! Woohoo! Miss Napela, you have a visitor!”
The dog stood and barked.
“A visitor? Who knows me here?” she grumbled to the dog. But then, Kamuela Parker stepped out of the house to stand next to Mrs. Winston.
Hattie’s heart beat like the drums of a fast hula. She put her hand on her chest. “Oh, silly.” She stood and began walking—quickly, but not too quickly. The old dog trotted along beside her. Hattie saw Kamuela shade his eyes against the morning sun. As soon as he saw her, he began walking too. They met under the shade of a banyan tree.
“Aloha, Panana Napela.”
“Aloha, Kamuela Parker.”
“What . . .”
“I . . .”
“When did you . . .”
“I thought I would . . .”
Kamuela bent down to pat the old dog, and Hattie took a deep breath.
“It is good to see you, Kamuela. How did you know I was here?”
He straightened up. “I didn’t. I was on my way to Laie to see you.” Hattie’s heart drummed again. “I knew the Winstons were your friends, so I stopped for water and to say hello to them.”
“Ah. That was lucky.”
“Yes.”
Now it was Hattie’s turn to pat the old dog. “What are you doing on Oahu? I mean, it isn’t time for school yet.”
“My Uncle John had to come to Honolulu for business. I came with him.”
“Ah.” Hattie was suddenly aware of her casual appearance. She wore a loose-fitting holoku dress (which she never wore, except away from her mother’s presence), no corset, and no shoes. Her hair, which she’d hastily pinned on top her head that morning, had been tousled by the morning breeze, and now curls of dark hair framed her face and fell onto her shoulders. Mr. Parker, on the other hand, wore a pair of light linen trousers, a white shirt, a pair of handsome suspenders, and stylish European shoes. Where was his jacket? “Where is your jacket?” she blurted out.
“Sorry?”
Hattie inwardly growled at herself. Why am I being so stupid? I have never had this problem talking with Kamuela before. She reminded herself that she was a year older than he was. It didn’t help. Right now she felt as though she were five. “I just wondered where your jacket was.”
“Oh. Mrs. Winston insisted I leave it in the house, in case I wanted to go swimming.”
Hattie brightened. “Would you like to?”
“Yes, that would be wonderful. It was a long ride over the pali this morning.”
They began walking toward the ocean. “You must have started early.”
“Before sunrise, but my horse decided it wanted to go slow.” He smiled. “I’m going to need a nap.”
Hattie smiled back. “Well, at least you don’t have to travel all the way to Laie . . . unless there was another reason you were going there.”
“No,” Kamuela answered, a mellow softness in his voice. “A ‘ohe mea ‘imi a ka maka.” Everything I desire is in my presence.
Hattie’s thoughts became a jumble, and she swallowed hard. “Ah . . . how is your ranch? Have you been working hard?”
“Very hard. I don’t know if I will ever love the life of a cowboy.”
Hattie laughed. “Perhaps you can be the manager and come up with all the good ideas.”
“That might suit me better.”
They reached the edge of the water, and they stood for a moment letting the breeze brush against their skin, and listening to the swoosh and hiss of the waves on the shore. Hattie looked down at the crumpled letter in her fist. “Oh, silly me!” she chided, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles in the paper.
Kamuela looked over at her. “Is something ruined?”
“No. I’ve just crushed my father’s letter. I was reading it when you arrived . . . and . . . I didn’t finish.”
“Please, you must get back to it.”
“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not, Panana. I don’t need to be entertained every moment.”
“Well then . . . ,” she took a few steps away from him. “I’ll just be sitting over there on the pier.”
Kamuela stepped forward. “May I sit with you while you read?”
“Well, that will be boring for you. What about your swim?”
“Maybe we can swim together after you’re finished reading.”
The thrum of drumbeats started again in her chest. Wili i ke au wili o kawili. Now this is confusing, she chided herself silently. “I’m a silly po‘o uli bird!”
“What was that?”
Hattie looked up, surprised that she’d spoken out loud. “Ah . . . nothing. I was just thinking that I could read some of his stories to you, if you’d like.”
Kamuela smiled broadly. “I would like that very much. I would like to hear about your father’s adventures in the wilds of Utah.”
The two began walking to the pier, the old dog following. “I keep all his letters in a box. You probably think that’s silly.”
“Not at all. The words of a father are important. I never knew my father. He died when I was very young.”
“I’m sorry, Kamuela.”
“But my grandfather raised me, and he was full of words.” He chuckled. “Mostly about work and business.”
They moved onto the pier and sat down. Hattie picked up the koa box, took off the lid, and deposited her letter inside.
“Aren’t you reading that one?” he asked, as he busied himself taking off his shoes and socks.
“I was nearly finished with it.” She rummaged through the letters. “I want to read you the one where he went to this big pioneer celebration. I think it’s very interesting.”
“Pioneer?”
“The members of the Mormon Church who were forced out of their homes. They came in wagon trains across most of America—thousands of miles. Brigham Young was their leader.” She took her father’s letter out of the envelope. “My father has met him—Brigham Young.”
“Why were they forced out of their homes?”
She opened the letter. “I don’t know, really. I can tell you what my father told me.”
Kamuela nodded. “Yes, I would like to hear.”
Hattie spent time telling him stories that her father had told her about the persecution and violence against the Mormon people. She finished with the mob killing of the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother, and the governor of Illinois forcing the people out of the city of Nauvoo.
Kamuela looked troubled. “I don’t understand. I thought America was a place of protection for the people and their beliefs. I thought they had freedom of religion.”
“Not for the Mormons, it seems.” Hattie scanned the letter until she found the place she wanted. “So these pioneers traveled for thousands of miles, and arrived at the Great Salt Lake Valley on July the 24th. And every year on that day they have a big celebration.”
“I guess I’d celebrate too, once I got the chance to stop walking.”
Hattie laughed. “Yes, they walked across a country, and I complain when I have to walk from the Winston’s house to the ocean.”
Kamuela nodded. “I’m afraid I’m the same.” He scratched behind the old dog’s ears. “We are too used to being pampered, aren’t we, boy? I live with my Uncle John and Aunt Hanai now, and my auntie spoils me terribly.” The old dog wagged its tail and Kamuela chuckled. He turned to Hattie. “You must be proud to be part of such a strong group of people.”
Hattie felt a twinge of regret. “Well, I haven’t actually been baptized.”
“Really? But, your father is such a leader in the Church.”
“He is honoring my mother’s wishes. She feels doors would be closed to me if I were a member of the Mormon Church.”
“Oh, I see.”
“But, my father has taught me many good things.”
“Of course.” There was an awkward silence, and then Kamuela smiled at her. “So, are you going to read to me or not?”
“Yes! Let me find the place.” She scanned the letter and began reading. “Today I went with Brother Cannon and his family to the Pioneer celebration. We all dressed in our finest and walked to the Temple Block to watch the procession. There was great excitement in the city with the buildings draped in the national colors of red, white, and blue, and children waving small American flags.”
“Wait!” Kamuela interrupted. “They honor the country’s colors—the country that did not protect them?”
Hattie put down the letter. “My father says the Mormon people love their country.”
“Even after all they suffered?”
“I guess so.”
“Hmm. I probably would have headed off into the wilderness and made my own country.”
Hattie laughed. “King Kamuela.” She found her place and read. “I sat in the stands where Brother Cannon, the other Apostles, and the prophet were sitting.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you again, Panana, but I have another question.”
“Of course, Kamuela. I don’t mind.”
“The Mormon Church has Apostles like those in Christ’s day?”
Hattie gave him a puzzled look. “Is that unusual?”
“Well, no other Christian church has Apostles, Panana, not that I know of anyway.”
Hattie just shrugged, and went on reading. “I was with just a few others at the beginning, as Brother Cannon’s children wanted to stand by the roadside with their friends, and the Brethren had to go and walk near the front of the procession. After they made the circuit they all came to sit in the stands and watch the rest of the pageant. At precisely half past eight, the procession started. It was thrilling, my dear daughter! First came the national flag . . .” Hattie saw Kamuela shake his head, but she continued. “Next came a brass band, and after them the Pioneers of 1847 with a big banner. Some of the pioneers were old and feeble, but they marched proudly. Next was President Brigham Young with his counselors and the Twelve Apostles. Then came companies of men, women, and children representing different modes of immigration: wagons, horses, and handcarts. One little tike had a boat built around him and he was paddling along.” Hattie giggled. “I wish I could have seen that.” Kamuela nodded. Hattie ran her fingers along the words until she found her place. “The entire crowd was moved by the next group of marchers. It brought many to tears. There were twenty-four young gentlemen walking solemnly along, carrying a large U.S. flag between them. Behind them were men of the Mormon Battalion. These men of the Church and their families had been driven from their homes when Governor Ford refused to acknowledge the Saints’ right to exist in the state, and yet they mustered into the United States service in July of 1846. That was barely two years after the Prophet Joseph was murdered by a bloodthirsty mob. It is difficult for me to imagine, Panana, how the Church members have not become bitter and turned their backs on the country of America.”
“That is what I say,” Kamuela agreed.
“They suffered much for their faith.”
“And your father?”
“My father?”
“Hasn’t he had to give up much to be a member of the Church?”
Momentary sadness moved across Hattie’s face. “Yes. I know it has been hard for him. I think it is one reason he is so happy to be among the Saints in Utah. His letters are filled with not only his adventures, but with his feelings.” Kamuela nodded and Hattie went back to reading.
“I know I am going on and on, Little Guide, but I just want to share every moment with you. And, I know you would have liked the twenty-four young women who came next in the parade. They carried the banner for the Deseret University, and they were dressed in pretty white dresses with blue sashes. I thought of you when I saw them. Finally there were the good people of the valley: farmers, merchants, professional people, and families walking, riding horses, or in carriages. It was a grand sight to see.” Hattie sighed and looked up. “It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Kamuela answered. He ruffled the top of the old dog’s head. “Is there more?”
“Oh, only about attending a meeting afterward in the Tabernacle.”
“And what is that?”
“It’s a big meeting hall. Father said it can hold 7,000 people. Can you imagine that?” She folded the letter and put it back into the envelope.
Kamuela shook his head and looked out over the shoreline to a simple grass hut. “Salt Lake sounds like a very sophisticated city.”
“I think it is, from what my father writes.” She sighed again. “Maybe he won’t ever want to come home.”
“There is no worry about that, Panana. His heart is tied to you, your mother, and Hawaii nei.”
Hattie’s eyes filled with tears and she turned away to put the letter into her koa box. “I hope so,” she mumbled.
Kamuela stood and took off his suspenders. “And I say it’s time we took our swim.”
“I think so too!” Hattie said, gaiety returning to her demeanor. She took the pins from her hair and let it cascade down her back. She stood and brought fabric from the back of her dress between her legs, and held it gathered in front. She looked like she was wearing a large pair of bloomers, but she didn’t care. The day was growing hot, and the water looked inviting.
Kamuela pushed her from the pier, removed his shirt, and dove in after her. Hattie put on a show of outrage when she surfaced, but couldn’t keep up the pretense when Kamuela swam close and the drumbeats sounded again.
Note
The Tabernacle is a large dome-shaped meeting hall that sits on the west side of Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah. Construction of the building began in 1863 and was completed in 1867.
Chapter 37
Laie, Oahu
September 1870
Jonathan sat on the side of the stone water cistern, sheltered from the rays of the setting sun by a small pandanas tree. It had rained an hour ago, and the atmosphere was oppressive, but it didn’t matter. He needed to be out of the house—away from Kitty’s sadness, away from the settlement, away from people. He listened to the gentle rustle of the wind in the sugarcane and the lonely trill of the sea bird calling for its mate. He tried to listen to things beyond mortal hearing—voices of instruction and expressions of solace. One hand brushed tears from his cheeks, while the other ran absently over the pages of his Bible. His mind wandered through images of his life with his daughter: Hattie building a sand house with Brother George, Hattie learning the hula at her mother’s side, Hattie’s exuberant face the first time she went off to school. Jonathan looked out to the end of the cane rows and thought about the day when she’d planted her sugarcane in the field. Now she was eighteen and far from that young girl who had longed to be part of his work.
