Belonging to Heaven, page 25
The sun was setting behind the pali, sending a shimmer of coral to brush the underside of the clouds, but today Jonathan’s heart did not joy in the beauty—today his heart was filled with feelings of failure and loss. He stood and walked toward the mountains. Movement seemed like the only thing that offered any relief from his melancholy.
“What have I done wrong, Father? How did I fail my Panana?” Anger and frustration made his voice strained and raspy. “Have I not been a stalwart servant? Did I not teach her?” He wiped the tears with the back of his hand and looked down at his Bible. “Kitty is so angry—angry and disappointed.” He shook his head. “Why can I not find the answers?” He was so lost in his distress that he did not hear the soft rustle of footsteps approaching behind him on the path.
“Makua kane?” An anxious voice whispered.
Jonathan turned quickly and frowned at the speaker.
Hattie stepped back. Her face was blotchy from crying, and her eyes were filled with fear.
“I do not wish to speak to you right now, my daughter.”
“I know, but my heart is breaking and . . .”
“And so is mine.” He turned to go.
“Please.”
Jonathan hesitated. “I do not want to speak sharp words to you out of my pain.”
“But, I want to hear them. I need to hear them.”
Jonathan’s shoulders sagged. There was a long silence before he spoke. “Come, there is a small stream where we can sit.”
He walked up the trail, and she followed. The sun set behind the mountain, and a cooling breeze blew down from the canyon. The fiery red blossoms of the lehua trees quivered in the breath of air, and Jonathan felt a slip of pain release from his heart. Dear Father, how will we figure this out? As they walked, he was glad Hattie did not speak. He needed the time to sort out his thoughts and feelings.
They came to a slight rise, and Jonathan felt his heart pump as he climbed. Age was finally beginning to mark his body with inadequacies, but he did not dwell on this inevitable occurrence; he was more concerned with the inadequacies of his spirit. Jonathan paused at the top of the hill and looked down into the bowl-shaped depression where trees, bushes, and flowers clustered around a natural spring of water. A small hand was placed on his back, and he moved off, feeling the fingers linger and then slide away. His heart twisted in his chest, and tears of regret slid down his cheeks.
By the time they reached the place where the spring bubbled from the hillside, Jonathan had secured his bitterness enough to think that talking might be possible. Hattie went to the small pure stream, took a long drink, and splashed water onto her face. The action was so childlike that Jonathan’s heart twisted. He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, but he shook his head and hung onto his disillusion.
He found a rock on which to sit, and Hattie sat near. Neither seemed able to find the words to break the isolation, but the certainty of oncoming darkness pressed them to try. Hattie reached for her father’s arm, drew back, and folded her hands in her lap.
“E ‘ao lu‘au a kualima,” she said softly. Offer young kalo leaves to the gods five times.
Jonathan took a breath, but did not speak. How often as a young boy, before the Lord Jesus came into the life of his family, had he heard his father, Hawaii Waaole, speak those words to him? How many times after he’d made a mistake had he been sent to the kalo patch to gather the young leaves? How often had he offered them to the gods for forgiveness? But the old gods were gone, and more was expected than the offering of young kalo leaves.
“Did I not teach you from the scriptures what is the best way to live your life?”
“You did.”
“Did I not teach you from my heart that you were precious to me?”
Tears rolled down Hattie’s cheeks. “You did.”
“Mai kapae i ke a‘o a ka makua, aia he ola malaila.” Do not set aside the teachings of one’s parents for there is life there.
Hattie hung her head and nodded.
Jonathan’s heart melted. “Perhaps my words were weak. Perhaps I spent too much time away from you, paddling my canoe against forceful currents.”
“No!” Hattie said abruptly. “You taught me well, Makua kane. It was just that Kamuela and I had such a strong love for each other. We overstepped the boundaries.”
Jonathan nodded with understanding, and silence again fell between them. Finally Jonathan spoke, his voice low and somber. “Somehow, we will figure this out.”
Hattie looked at him and wept. “I am sorry, Makua kane. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.” Intakes of breath came between each sob. “Can you ever love me again?”
Jonathan quickly picked up his scriptures. He turned the pages until he came to the place he wanted. He read, “I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy daughter; make me as one of thy hired servants. And she arose, and came to her father. But when she was yet a great way off, her father saw her, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on her neck, and kissed her.” Hattie’s face lifted, watching her father intently as he read. “And the daughter said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy daughter.” Jonathan choked on his emotion as tears streamed down his face. “But the father said to his servants, bring forth the best robe, and put it on her, and put a ring on her hand, and shoes on her feet, and bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it, and let us eat, and be merry. For this my daughter was dead, and is alive again; she was lost, and is found.”
Through his tears, he smiled at her. “Panana, I will love you forever.”
She rushed into his arms.
For several minutes they cried together. Jonathan felt the grip of sorrow release from around his heart. Repentance, forgiveness, and love were the only answers. When he taught people the gospel, did he not teach of the great atoning sacrifice of the dear Lord Jesus? Had he not needed that blessed atonement in his own life? Was there a person living or dead who had not made a mistake and needed the wondrous assurance that sins of scarlet could be made white as snow?
Hattie’s tears subsided, and she sat close beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. “Mother will never forgive me,” she said meekly.
Jonathan noted the loss in his daughter’s voice. His wife and daughter were precious to him, and he lamented the tearing of their relationship. He knew Kitty had inherited her father’s stubborn pride, but she’d also been blessed with her mother’s gentleness. He put his arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “Your mother loves you, Panana. Right now she is upset and disappointed. Give her time.”
Hattie buried her face in her hands. “She says that I have brought disgrace on the family, especially since we are of such high standing.”
Jonathan took her hands away and looked straight into her eyes. “Enough of that, Panana. The Lord does not care about high standing. He cares only how we are preparing for His kingdom. He cares about our hearts, and how we can make things right.”
“But, can I ever make this right?”
Jonathan felt peace pour into his heart. “Yes. You and Kamuela will marry, and you will love your child. And you will be a guide to your family. That is how you will make it right.”
“But mother says she refuses to let us be married. She says we are too young.”
Strength came into Jonathan’s voice. “You will marry. You say that Kamuela loves you.”
“Yes.”
“And that he wishes to marry you.”
“Yes, it is our greatest desire. We want to spend our lives together.”
“Then there is no more to be said.” Darkness was surrounding them, but there was just enough light for Jonathan to see a stillness soften his daughter’s features. He reached out and took her hand. “Come, we must go before darkness overtakes our feet.”
She hesitated. “I will take my mat and sleep in the mission office. I do not think mother wants to see my face tonight.” She looked sadly at her father. “It will be quieter for you if I am not there.”
Jonathan ran his finger across her cheek. “We will put this in the Lord’s hands, Little Guide. He will take us where we need to go.”
The two started off down the path, being careful to avoid stones and tree roots that hindered their way. The lights from the Laie settlement winked from a distance and spoke of home and haven but, as darkness blanketed the landscape, Jonathan knew that he would need wisdom and patience from the Lord Jesus to bring light back into his home.
Chapter 38
Wailuku, Maui
August 23, 1871
Jonathan Hawaii Napela was ali‘i, the son of a chief and chiefess. He was a graduate from Lahainaluna School. He was a judge, and one of ten mission leaders for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Hawaii. He was the head of the sugar plantation at Laie. King Kamehameha V had personally asked him to run for the state legislature, a race he had lost by only forty votes. Such a background would have caused many men to strut around like a rooster, or feed on the slop of popularity, but such conceit was not in Jonathan’s nature. The mana that upheld him was strong like the koa tree, but it was also quiet like the wing stroke of the forest owl.
Today he needed the mana from all of his ancestors as he stood in his finest suit and feather cape at the back of the chapel of the Ka‘ahumanu Church. He held the trembling hand of his daughter, and, in spite of the dark circles under her eyes, which spoke of troubled sleep and worry, Hattie Panana Hianaloli Kaiwaokalani Hailau Aala Napela, was a beautiful bride. Her wedding gown was pale dove gray silk in the European fashion: tight fitting at her small waist and flaring out to the floor. A pleated sash of cream circled her waistline, while the bodice was adorned with silk flower rosettes and delicate ribbons in all shades of grey, cream, and white. She wore her small feather cape, and her hair was piled softly on her head and adorned with a crown of yellow mamo feathers and ginger flowers. Jonathan smiled down at her, and she attempted to smile back. The sentiment barely brushed her pale lips before it was lost again in a tight line. He prayed a silent prayer of strength for his Panana. The weeks and months leading up to this day had been fraught with great sorrow.
Jonathan’s mind wandered back to the day that Kitty had come to him and Panana with her counsel concerning the baby. The offering came in tones of concern and love, but Jonathan sensed Kitty’s firm resolution concerning the decision.
“My younger cousin and her husband on Kauai have longed for a child for many years, Panana. The blessing of hanai, adoption, would bring great joy to them and would take away the cares that come with this child.”
Jonathan watched as Hattie’s eyes filled with tears. “But, Kamuela and I are going to marry. It is announced.”
“I know. It seems you are set on this, but I still say you are too young. And you are especially too young to raise a child.”
“But, we . . .”
“And you both come from high-standing families. This is something you must consider.” Kitty took Hattie’s hands. “I am sure Kamuela would agree. The child will be loved and well cared for. And there will be times when you can see the child. It is the best possible solution.”
Hattie had turned to him. “Makua kane?”
“It must be your decision, Panana. It must be your decision.”
And Hattie had decided. Under Kitty’s urging, Panana and Kamuela had decided on hanai. Kitty had then agreed to accompany her daughter to their home in Wailuku for the birth of the baby, but only after she’d garnered the promise that the birth would be kept a secret. The two would arrive at the big house a short time prior to the birth, and Kitty would tell friends and relatives that Hattie was suffering from typhoid fever and could receive no visitors. Only one trusted elderly tutu and the doctor would be allowed to see her.
Jonathan put Hattie’s trembling hand in the bend of his arm, and laid his big hand over it. For the hundredth time the words flowed into his mind. I should have said more. I should have been more of a support if she’d wanted to choose another way. Regret battered his heart. There was some solace in the way Hattie lived her life during the next several months. She seemed to be at peace with her decision, and she worked to calm her emotions for that day of parting. Even so, he could not imagine his daughter’s sorrow when, after weeks of concealment, she’d given birth to a little girl, only to have to relinquish her into the hands of the tutu. Hattie had insisted that she be allowed to name the child. She had taken the baby in her arms, kissed her face, and whispered in her ear that her name would always and forever be Mary Kihalaninui Parker. Jonathan forced back his emotion. Just days after the birth, Kamuela Parker arrived from his home on the Big Island to console his sweetheart. The boy may have been young in years, but not in character.
The music altered, and Jonathan felt a tug on his arm. He looked down, and Hattie gave him a brave smile.
“I think it’s time for us to walk,” she whispered.
Jonathan nodded and the two stepped forward. As they walked slowly down the aisle, Jonathan considered the time and circumstance that separated him from this place. He was grateful for the Protestant missionaries who had taught him and his parents the love of the Lord Jesus. He was grateful for his training at Lahainaluna Seminary. He was grateful for the lessons of heaven that he’d heard from the preachers at this very pulpit, but he also thought of the face of his friend, Brother George, and the words of truth that had come from his lips. Jonathan’s heart swelled as he remembered the day Brother George stood with him in the Endowment House at Salt Lake City, explaining certain things and translating the promises of eternity into Hawaiian. Jonathan’s days were now filled with service and certainty, and even though threads of disappointment, sacrifice, temptation, persecution, and heartache were woven within the fabric of his gospel life, the words of his young missionary friend had proven true—if you wish to belong to heaven, there is no easy way.
Jonathan’s thoughts were brought to the present as he felt Panana’s body stiffen at his side. He looked around and saw that they were walking by Kitty. His wife did not look at the two of them as they passed, and Panana did not look over at her mother, instead she looked straight ahead—straight into the smiling face of Kamuela Parker.
***
As the newly married couple emerged from the church, a cheer went up, conch shells sounded, and the friends and relatives threw rice at the bride and groom for good luck, and hung leis about their necks. For the first time in the day, Jonathan saw a genuine smile from his daughter, and noticed that a look of bemused joy had stamped itself onto Kamuela’s face. As the company moved to the place of celebration, Kamuela paid loving attention to his bride and her needs. Jonathan was glad. The worry he’d carried for his daughter’s happiness lifted slightly, and he found it possible to hope for a good life for the two youngsters.
Many came to congratulate him and Kitty for the happy day, and Kitty responded with quiet gentility. None but he and the bridal pair knew of her actual sentiments. Jonathan took Kitty’s arm, and the two moved with the crowd from the churchyard toward their home. Friends and relatives filled the air with the sweet sound of aloha as a cooling breeze blew down from the Iao Valley.
Hattie’s Uncle Kuikelani, who was a very high chief, decided that the important couple should have a marvelous wedding celebration, and so it was. Carpets were laid from the church, across the street, to the gate of the Napela’s big house. Two large imus were filled with kalo, breadfruit, sweet potatoes, pig, chicken, and many kinds of fish, and crab and octopus were cooked to perfection. The low tables were covered in ti leaves and laden with bananas, pineapple, papaya, coconuts, mountain apples, and guavas. There were calabash bowls filled with poi and Hattie’s favorite—coconut pudding.
There was an open-sided hale where the musicians and the dancers performed, and a similar but larger hale, where the tables were set. This gathering place was festooned with delicate red kokio ‘ula flowers, and the vines of the nuku ‘i ‘iwi and the maunaloa. The main table for the bridal party was of regular height with chairs and sat facing the other tables. Jonathan sat next to Hattie with Kitty on his right. Kamuela’s Auntie Hanai, sat next to him with Uncle John Parker on her left. All who looked to the top table could see open joy on most of the faces. Uncle John Parker and Chief Napela waved at many people while they were being seated, and Auntie Hanai kept reaching over and taking Hattie’s hand, or patting Kamuela’s face. Only Kitty Keliikuaaina Napela seemed estranged from the festivities. Many people presumed that she was not feeling well, and soon the whispered rumor spread among the party goers that the mother of the bride had a stomachache.
“Onaona i ka hala me ka lehua,” the singers chanted. Fragrant with pandanas and lehua. “He hale lehua no ia na ka noe.” It is a house of lehua made by the mist. “O ka‘u no ia e ‘ano‘i nei.” There is that which I desire. “I li‘a nei ho‘i ‘o ka hiki mai.” Which I indeed have a yearning for and that is the arrival. A hiki mai no ‘oukou.” And indeed you all have come to me. “A hiki up no me ke aloha.” And you have come together with hearts full of love. “Aloha e.” May love be with you. “Aloha e.” May love be with you.
Kamuela Parker stood. He was only eighteen, but out of respect for his status as a major land owner, and now as husband to Harriet Panana Napela, the guests quieted immediately. Jonathan saw his new son-in-law swallow several times and knew the young man was nervous, but when he looked at his bride, he stood straighter and gave her a tender smile. Kamuela moved his gaze to the gathered friends and family.
“Before we begin the feast, I would like to tell you a story. When I was in Honolulu at the Oahu College I was known for giving gifts to some of the girls—candy and flower leis.”
