He grinned. “She’s my irmã. She expects it.”
“Beast,” Dolores teased.
“Helen Medeiros Rodrigues, this is Dolores.”
“Hi, Dolores.” Helen smiled at her. Dolores examined her, trying not to be obvious. She was much older than her brother, and older than their sister Ruth who’d been at the beach last time. She flushed when Helen nodded, seeing her inspection. “I’m seven years older than my brother. He’s the baby.”
Manolo pouted. “Helen, can you play with these three fine boys so I can walk down the beach with Dolores?”
“Are you sure, Dolores?” she asked. “He’s incorrigible.” She glowered at her brother and beamed at the boys. “Of course, I’ll watch them. You go have fun.”
“I should….” Dolores protested, but Helen would have none of it.
“Go.” She waved them off.
“Watch Henry,” Dolores said to Alfred.
The boy turned shining eyes on his big brother. “Henry no ka ‘oi.”
Manolo jumped to his feet, offering Dolores his hand to pull her up. She took it. He was so carefree, such a beach bum. And he was strong. “You know,” he began, “my nephew Alberto was taken with you the other day. You were all he could talk about on the way home.” He grinned. “He’s Helen’s son.”
“Really?” Dolores wondered what he had said about her. “He seemed like a nice boy.”
“Ha! He’ll hate being called a boy. He’s eleven, but in his head, he’s eighteen and surfing Waikiki every day.”
“Do you surf?”
“All the Medeiros boys surf.” He puffed his chest out.
“Why are you at Hanauma then? No surf here.”
“Hanauma is all about beauty.”
He was right. The curved beach with its white sand set against the blue ocean always took her breath away. On one side, Koko Head loomed, and on the other, Diamond Head. It was a beautiful place, but Dolores blushed when she realized he was looking at her, not the beach. When she didn’t answer, he changed the subject.
“Where’s Maria today?”
“She’s not feeling well.” Something in her tone must have alerted him.
“And it’s more than physical? I understand. There’s a lot of emotion and hurt feelings at my house. I’m the youngest of five children. We all live near each other up in Punch Bowl. To make matters worse, my oldest brother and sisters have children my age—like Alberto. My mother’s house is always chaos with people coming in and going out, but my mother rules it with an iron hand. Volatile lot, us Portugees.” He grinned.
Imagining all those people as part of a loving family floored Dolores. “How wonderful, though, to have so much family! I can’t imagine. It’s only ever been my brother and Papa with me, and then they left.” She grew quiet, but he said nothing so she told him about Mama dying, and Noelani, and Maria, and even Peter’s dairy woes.
He nodded. “One good thing about a large family is that no matter who you’re mad at, there’s always someone else to talk to.”
Dolores smiled because he’d seen her heart. She’d never had a confidante at all until she met Maria, and she could hardly confide worries about her to her face!
They walked back along the beach to where Helen was playing in the sand with the boys. When Manolo took her hand, Dolores allowed it.
She thanked Helen for babysitting. Helen raised an eyebrow at their linked hands. Dolores grinned, knowing Manolo would be in for some teasing. He’d be good-natured about it since his sister had made it possible for them to be alone. They walked back up the beach to where their friends, maybe family, were. He turned back to wave at Dolores once.
Dolores hummed as she packed their beach things into the truck and tried her best to brush sand off the boys. It covered John from head to toe. He must have rolled in it. Alfred wasn’t much better, and his mouth was ringed with sand. Had he tried eating it?
“Sand no ka ‘oi,” he mumbled.
Henry had waded into the water up to his knees. Wet sand was harder to brush off than dry. When they were as clean as Dolores could make them, they headed home. Dolores hummed all the way.
Maria seemed quite restored when they returned. She even took the boys to bathe off the rest of the sand.
Dolores followed to help. “The Medeiros boys were at the beach.”
“Is that so?” Maria said.
Dolores frowned and focused on rinsing Henry’s legs. Did Maria disapprove? “Manolo’s sister watched the boys while we went for a walk. I hope that was all right.”
Maria leaned back and looked at her friend. “I know I said you should have fun. I still think so. Peter is right when he says the Medeiros boys are wild, though. They may seem like fun and all, but it’s no good getting serious about them.”
“Who’s getting serious?” Dolores protested, but her heart flipped over.
“Get on out of here,” Maria said. “I can finish, and you’ve had a long day in the sun.”
Dolores dried off her arms and walked into the kitchen for a cold drink. Peter sat at the table, his head in his hands, hair tousled like he’d been there a while. Piles of papers covered the table.
“Peter? Everything all right?” She poured them both a glass of pineapple juice and joined him at the table.
“Mahalo.” He took a sip but didn’t answer for a long moment. Then he sighed. “No, everything’s not all right.” He indicated the tallest stack of paper. “These are bills.” He indicated another stack, much shorter than the first. “These are milk orders. A few small dairies over by Waimanalo are working together as one business and cutting prices to get more orders.”
“Meadow Gold? But they’ve been doing that for years.”
He nodded. “I know, but their new ice cream venture is very profitable. Customers are beginning to trust them as being more stable than us little independent guys.”
“Oh, yes, their ice cream is wonderful!”
Peter scowled at her.
“Sorry, Peter, but you can’t deny it’s tasty.”
He laughed. “Yes, it is. We can enjoy it while we can still afford it.” That thought sobered them both.
“Are you thinking of selling?” Dolores asked him.
He held up a lone piece of paper. “This is the bill of sale. Hind has offered me a good price. I only have to figure out how to tell Maria that we’re moving to the base.”
“The base?” Dolores wondered how far that was from Hanauma Bay, or from Waikiki where the Medeiros boys surfed. Before she could ask, a pale Maria stood in the doorway.
“The base?”
Peter jumped up. “Oh, ku‘uipo, I didn’t mean for you to hear that … not now anyway … not like that. I was going to tell you when I got back from California.”
Maria stroked her stomach. “But you don’t mind discussing it with Dolores?”
Peter’s stricken face pushed Dolores into action. She went to Maria and put her arm around her friend. “Don’t you know that you’re his number one worry?” Dolores indicated the table piled with papers. “Among a lot of worries. Please don’t be mad at him. You need to get through this together. I’ll be there for you wherever you go.”
Maria hesitated, and her husband took her hands in his. Dolores backed away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you.” His apology was elegant in its simplicity. Maria loved him. He didn’t need to plead with her or give excuses.
She wasn’t ready to let it go yet. “I birthed three sons for you and keep the house.” She glanced at Dolores. “With Dolores’s help. We have a happy home and a good marriage. What were you afraid of? Why not tell me outright that it had gotten this bad?”
He ran a hand through his hair and answered. “I didn’t want to admit it to myself.”
“Oh, Peter. The baby isn’t due until February. You’ll be with the band in California for two weeks. When you get back, there’s plenty of time to make a decision. Don’t do anything yet.” Her eyes pleaded with him, but her words were gentle.
“Too bad,” she insisted. “This is a huge decision and we need to consider all options. Can your foreman run the dairy by himself?”
Peter nodded. Dolores enjoyed seeing Maria so much in control. He would have no choice but to go along with her. She would not accept any less.
“Yes,” Peter affirmed. “He can do it. I’ll only have you to worry about while I’m gone.”
“And that’s my department,” Dolores said. “I’ll take care of Maria and the boys.”
“Mahalo, Dolores, for all you do,” he said.
Dolores couldn’t tell if Maria had thrown herself into his arms or if he’d swept her into a hug. At any rate, in front of her stood a couple in love facing a tough place in their marriage together. Dolores thought of Manolo and for the first time felt something was lacking in her life. She went to find the boys and finish making dinner.
Much later, after the boys were in bed and the goodnight stories read, the three adults settled in the front room. Peter turned on the radio for the local news. A familiar name grabbed Dolores’s attention.
“Three local teens robbed a liquor store near Punch Bowl this afternoon. Police identified the suspects as Jacinto Nunes, Felix Garza, and Roberto Medeiros.”
The story went on, but Peter’s voice drowned it out. “See? Medeiros. They’re trouble, Dolores.”
“I don’t know a Roberto. Could be a different family.”
“They’re all related and all trouble. Watch yourself.”
Dolores didn’t argue. Peter had made up his mind about Manolo’s family from rumor rather than personal knowledge. Maria said nothing, lost in her own worries.
TWO days later, Peter left the island with the regimental band. It was the first time he and Maria had been separated since their marriage, but it occurred much as any other ordinary moment would. He kissed his wife and sons good-bye like he would on any normal morning and gave Dolores a hug. “I’m leaving her in your hands, Dolores,” he whispered. She nodded. Before he left, the boys demanded promises of presents from California.
“Let’s pray for a safe trip,” Dolores suggested.
Maria followed her into the front room, where they knelt before the crucifix on the wall and said a private prayer for Peter’s safe return. Thus fortified, Maria went to start laundry. Dolores kept the boys occupied and out of her hair.
Over the next few weeks, Dolores spent a lot of time at Hanauma Bay with Maria and the boys, with the boys alone, or on her own. Manolo was there almost every day. She learned he was an office boy for a Honolulu firm, an intelligent man, seventeen years old. He was fun and friendly, and he made her heart beat faster than doing an entire day of laundry at Noelani’s. When Dolores was with him, she felt cherished—pretty and important and fun. She could forget the responsibility of Maria and the boys for an hour or two and just be a fifteen-year-old girl at the beach with her boyfriend, for that’s what Manolo had become. Manolo was fun. Dolores couldn’t see what Peter thought of as the wildness of the Medeiros boys, unless Peter was being stuffy and thinking surfing and drinking created wild men.
The first time Manolo picked Dolores up at the house to go to a movie, she was surprised. She’d never seen him in street clothes before and smiled to see his glasses free of salt spray. He wore pressed tan slacks and a white shirt with the cuffs folded back. The ribbon of his scapular peeked through at the open neck. He took her hand as they walked out of the house.
Maria called, “Have fun and don’t be late!” from the kitchen.
“I thought we’d go to Fort Street and get an ice cream soda,” Manolo said as they walked to the streetcar stop.
Dolores smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”
They chatted like old friends while they rode the streetcar into downtown Honolulu. Dolores wasn’t the least bit nervous, even though it was her first official date.
“I want to take you for dinner, but I can’t afford it yet,” Manolo said, his tone full of apology.
“It’s not the price of the meal, it’s the company. Do you know I was with Maria and Peter for my first trip to Benson-Smith?”
“This trip will be even more memorable,” he promised.
Their conversation bounced from topic to topic. When they reached the Fort Street stop, they walked into the store and took a place at the soda fountain. It was noisy and crowded, so she didn’t hear what Manolo said after he ordered. “What? Can you say that again?”
“I got a raise!” Now he was almost shouting.
“A raise? That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you!” And she was. It was difficult to find jobs after the stock market crash the year before, even in Honolulu. To hold one and manage a raise meant something.
“It’s a good job with regular hours and regular pay.” He twirled his spoon in his hand. “Dolores?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think about getting married? Us, I mean.” Over the initial hurdle, his words rushed forth in a torrent. “We could live in one of my mother’s houses up in Punch Bowl for a while.”
The edges of her vision fuzzed until the only thing in the world was the man who sat before her. “We don’t know each other, Manolo.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He kissed her, then leaned back and looked at her expectantly.
“I won’t marry you until I have your family sorted out!” she teased.
He laughed. “I don’t know how long that will take. I won’t wait forever!” They lingered as the ice cream melted, planned their future, and even named unborn children.
Still glowing when she returned home, Dolores roused Maria, who dozed by the radio. “We’re getting married,” she told her friend.
“Married?” Maria frowned. “So soon? You don’t know him, Dolores.”
Her euphoric cloud burst like a balloon. “I love him.”
Maria laid a hand on Dolores’s arm. “Maybe you do. I’m just saying you have to think before getting married. The Medeiros boys are wild. Great fun, yes, but not great husbands.”
Stung, Dolores snapped, “How do you know?”
Maria patted her friend’s arm. “They’re not the only big family in Honolulu, or even at our church, yet I’ve heard a lot about them. Three boys in that family.”
“And two sisters. That just proves his mother is a saint. Besides, five isn’t that big for a Portuguese family.” At least that’s what Manolo had told her.
“They all drink, Dolores. A lot. And motorcycles and late nights … I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
Dolores covered Maria’s hand with her own. “I appreciate it, Maria, I do. But this is a chance to find my own aloha instead of sharing yours.”
PART TWO
1931–1942
TWELVE
Punch Bowl 1931
Dolores crossed the street and let herself in through the screened kitchen door. She kicked off her shoes to honor her mother-in-law’s claim that wearing shoes in the house brought the devil inside. Odd belief for a staunch Catholic, but no stranger than the dozens of Hawaiian superstitions Dolores was already familiar with. For good measure, she crossed herself as she closed the screen door behind her.
Grandma Jessie peeled potatoes at the sink. Dolores watched, fascinated by how fast her mother-in-law peeled them in a single long piece. Wisps escaped the older woman’s tightly wrapped bun where hints of gray tinted her dark hair. Her apron, always present, covered her dress. Grandma Jessie without her apron was like Duke Kahanamoku without his surfboard. Dolores set her basket of vegetables on the counter and leaned over to kiss her mother-in-law’s cheek, inhaling deeply. “Smells ‘ono in here.”
Grandma Jessie smiled and waved the words away. “Ah, just the stew.”
Stew was what she called whatever was in the massive pot on the stove. It might be soup, sauce, or stew depending on what she added to it. The entire family—five grown children, their spouses, and several of their children—came home every
day for lunch, and preparing enough food meant a large pot.
Manolo’s sisters, Ruth and Helen, bustled around the kitchen, too. Ruth grinned at Dolores. “About time you got here! The work’s almost done!”
“Oh, good, but I’m sure Helen did it all.”
Ruth wrinkled her nose, and Dolores grinned.
Helen was fifteen years older than Dolores and the oldest of Grandma Jessie’s five living children. Her dark hair was wrapped and pinned like her mother’s. Helen was overly proud of her three children and her privileged position residing with Grandma Jessie in the main house. Ruth’s teasing, though, confirmed Dolores’s place in the family. It felt good. Dolores peeled and chopped the carrots and turnips she’d brought and put them in the pot. She reverently picked up Grandma Jessie’s battered silver ladle to stir. “Are you still sick in the mornings?” she asked Ruth.
Ruth’s hand went to her belly. “Not for a couple of days now. You?”
Dolores shook her head, her own hand covering the tiny new person inside her. Married only a few months now, she and Manolo were expecting their first child the following summer. Ruth’s baby, her third, would be born first. “Just a bit. Not too bad.”
It had felt odd not to have Paul at her wedding, but he couldn’t make the trip. Manolo’s family inundated her, but it wasn’t the same. During the wedding, a wave of strong floral scent surrounded her, a sign that departed family members were visiting, so Mama and Papa had been there. Peter and Maria came, of course. Peter managed the boys while Maria stood by Dolores at the altar as her matron of honor. Maria had wanted her to invite Noelani, but Dolores balked. Memories of the big Hawaiian woman still brought back her fear of reprisal and failure.
She felt an arm come around her waist. Just before a kiss touched her neck, she smelled Manolo’s cologne and smiled. “Talking about babies again? Why don’t you take a load off your feet?” He led Dolores to the kitchen table, sat down in a chair, and pulled her onto his lap. Helen looked disapproving. Ruth laughed.
Dolores waved the ladle at him. “So glad you’re here for lunch, querido. But someone has to stir.” She pushed her husband away and resumed her place at the stove.
The Aloha Spirit Page 11