“I should like to know all about the kokua,” she reflected. “If possible, I’d like to reward her with a special gift. Grandfather Ainsworth told me he’d set up a special fund for me. He called it an early inheritance.”
“Ainsworth holds himself guilty for the trauma you’ve endured with Townsend. I think something good did come out of it, for you at least. Ainsworth has finally realized how much you mean to him. I think he has been oblivious to his feelings until the fire at Hanalei.”
She felt approval, which had long been held from her, and she had no adequate response.
Eden walked with Ambrose, who was deep in thought. Finally he spoke: “Rebecca’s first kokua died a year ago. Your mother was in serious need and another qualified helper was difficult to find. So we did what we could. A sister at the convent hospital recommended someone from the Bishop Home. When the offer was made, your mother accepted with gratitude, and she affirms she’s well satisfied with her.”
Eden was not unfamiliar with the history of the Roman Catholic convent and dormitory for orphan girls, called Bishop House. “Ambrose, you’re not telling me Rebecca is being cared for in the convent?” she asked again.
“No … not in the convent. Just come along, lass. It’s better I show you.”
They walked up the cliff road to a hill near the boat landing on the beach and stopped at the white fence enclosing the grounds. Some nuns were outside in the yard while a handful of girls played croquet. The sea wind came in strongly, blowing the sisters’ black robes like outspread birds’ wings.
The compound was comprised of four whitewashed cottages and a white convent house with green shutters, all facing the sea. A tiny bungalow outside the compound with small shrubs growing around it captured her interest.
Ambrose nodded toward the bungalow. “Rebecca is there. She’s being cared for by one of the older girls who grew up here in Bishop House. The girl is also a leper,” he said.
Eden watched a girl near her own age coming across the yard. She limped on one leg and looked to be of Chinese background, not Hawaiian. She smiled self-consciously when Ambrose introduced her to Eden.
“This young kokua is Miss Lotus.”
“Aloha,” Eden said, “it is pleasant to meet you. You are my mother’s kokua?”
“Yes, Miss Derrington, thank you. Missus Rebecca is waiting now. She is veiled. She asks you not to touch her … perhaps to sit on the porch while she is sitting up in her bed?”
Eden nodded, deeply moved. She looked at Ambrose. He gravely patted her shoulder.
“I’ll wait here by the gate,” he said.
Lotus smiled at him and turned toward the convent house. “If you please, Mr. Easton, Mother Marianne has asked to meet you in the house. You go ahead, she comes.”
Just then the door of the convent house opened and an older nun with a smile stood waiting for him on the porch. Ambrose looked pleased and walked quickly across the yard toward her.
Meantime, Lotus bid Eden to follow her across a dirt and grassy section to the cottage with a small porch. The door was held open by a black lava rock, which was shaped like two praying hands. On closer inspection Eden saw that some gifted artist had chiseled it into shape.
Two pots of dark blue blossoms sat against the outer wall, a bit ragged from the strong winds.
Eden stepped onto the creaking porch and paused in the doorway. The old bed faced the door and had a tiny table beside it. Propped up in bed with several pillows behind her lay a stranger. Her mother.
In one brief overwhelming moment Eden was determined to control her emotions and not burst into sobs.
This is Rebecca. My mother. At last the bewildering path of wondering about her mother came to a quiet end. The long path stopped near a pot of battered blue flowers, a whitewashed shack that creaked with each gust of wind, a simple bed with plain blankets, and a thin figure of a dying woman covered in a pale blue bathrobe. A scarf was draped over her head and face, with two eyeholes. Her hands were wrapped in homemade gloves.
That Rebecca had gone through this trouble to protect Eden from seeing her corruption made the moment even more heart wrenching.
The wind blowing so strongly against her back seemed to push Eden over the threshold. Her gray skirt tangled around her ankles. She held on to either side of the doorjamb. She swallowed, her throat dry.
“Hello Mother. I’m your daughter, Eden.”
Silence. Could Rebecca no longer use her diseased vocal cords? But at last a word came, clearly, and with a sigh.
“Beautiful.”
“Mother—”
“No! Stay there. Do not come to me, not yet. We will meet again on another day, a better day, in a city whose maker is God.”
Eden bit her lip and her heart thudded in her ears.
“I’m going there at last. And I’m so happy about it. Don’t grieve, dearest. Our real reunion is not now, not here, but then. This is a mere moment in time. Not worthy to be compared with the glory that will be revealed in us, when we are in our new bodies with our Savior, the Lord Jesus.”
Eden could not talk. She had so much to say and yet, at the same time, nothing worthy to say. So much to ask, yet the questions could sound trivial. So much to explain, to understand and know, and yet …
“It is then we will commune,” Rebecca whispered, her breathing now difficult. “We will know as we are known.”
Eden finally found the words that momentarily expressed her heart. She repeated, “Yes, we will know as we are known. For now we see through a glass darkly, but then, face-to-face. Now we know in part. But then, we shall know even as we are known.”
Lotus brought a chair for Eden to sit on just outside the door. The silence and the words that followed were sporadic, but slowly sentences began to come—and as the minutes went on never to return again, she asked the questions that had always knocked at her heart’s door.
“I will give you all the answers to your questions and more, though not now, dearest. I have written them down over the years, always intending to have my journal sent to you on my departure. I’ve kept a journal from the beginning of my landing here until several years ago when I could no longer use my fingers. Even then my dear kokua wrote as I spoke. The last few years have been neglected, but little has happened that Ambrose can’t tell you about.
“The one event to shake my small world was the news that you knew about me and intended to see me. I never thought you would wish to see me in this condition. Then all the news began to come to me through Ambrose. Dear brother Ambrose! He told me all about my Eden. Your career in research at Kalihi, your sobriety of purpose, your dignity, your strong belief in the Lord, and your sweetness and charm.
“I was so thrilled, so happy. I can rest now, knowing you are all—perhaps even more—of the young lady I wanted you to be. Others have done my work in answer to my constant prayers for you. Eden, my dearest, I’m so very proud of you!”
Chapter Eleven
Speak, Lord, in the Stillness
The first indication that Rafe’s vision showed any hope of improvement had come on the tenth day aboard the steamer after he left Honolulu.
Now, after a month in San Francisco had crawled by, Rafe drummed his fingers. He was bored and miserable. He felt as if he were wandering about on one of San Francisco’s foggiest nights. All he could hear was the deep groan of a foghorn. He’d lost Eden, and his sight. His house and plantation were in a state of neglect. What else could go wrong? He may never again see a God-given Hawaiian sunset, or look into Kip’s happy face.
“Keep this up and I’ll soon be crying in my cup,” he mocked himself.
“You say something, Mr. Rafe?” Ling asked.
“Coffee,” Rafe repeated.
“I get some. You wait here.”
“Yes, Ling. I’ll wait right here.”
The first month of his stay was spent at the Parker Judson mansion on Nob Hill, where his mother, Celestine, babied him against his wishes and told heroic stories about
how wonderful her son was to Miss Bernice Judson, Parker Judson’s niece.
Celestine’s stories frustrated Zachary, who held his angered tongue in her presence. When alone with Rafe, however, he released his displeasure and put miles of wear on the Judsons’ fancy carpet by pacing to and fro.
“Doesn’t your mother know I’m in love with Bernice and want to marry her?” Zach complained. “What is your mother trying to do? Marry you to Parker Judson’s niece?”
“Why not?” Rafe pricked him, also in a foul mood. “Look at this big mansion I’ll inherit on Nob Hill.” He spread his arms wide. “Trouble is, I won’t be able to see it.”
“Very funny.”
“Not really. Relax, Zach. Sit down. First, old chap, no one will marry me to any woman unless I decide it’s the woman I want. But if you plan on marrying Bernice, you’ll first need to break off with Claudia Hunnewell. From the stalwart plans of Ainsworth and her father, Thaddeus, you won’t find it all that easy.”
“Never mind,” Zach grumbled. “I’ll handle the Hunnewell family.”
“Sure you will. Ainsworth, too, right? You’re just fortunate Claudia didn’t come along on the steamer to keep an eye on you. She’s a determined girl. And she knows about Bunny.”
“Look, Rafe, I don’t find any of your goads amusing. You knew Bernice in the past,” Zach accused.
Rafe had to judge everything from tone of voice. In his vision all he could see was a ghostly figure that he knew to be Zach moving about in grayness. It was frustrating to say the least. From Zach’s voice he could see that he was upset.
So, then. Bernice must have said something to Zach about having known Rafe. He wished she’d kept silent. Bernice was spending too much time with him. If the circumstances were different he would have avoided her company. Because of his anger with Eden, and perhaps, also, because of boredom and frustration, he’d allowed her to have her way. Now that Zach noticed the camaraderie and was jealous, it was time to leave.
He wished now that he’d gone straight to the Palace Hotel on his arrival as Ainsworth and Hunnewell had done. Rafe had come here to Parker’s house because he was a friend and business partner, and P.J. had insisted.
Then, too, Rafe had wanted to discuss the Hawaiiana pineapple plantation with P.J. He remained determined to see that Keno was granted opportunity to take over a portion of Hawaiiana before marrying Candace.
His mother and Kip were also here. They still had a great deal to discuss about the adoption, and whether or not he should sign the papers that would make Kip his son. So he delayed, waiting until he knew more about his future and whether he’d regain his sight.
His eyes had improved some, but not enough. Dr. William Kelly was contemplating surgery, but was in no hurry, even though Rafe was. The wise and calm Dr. Kelly wanted more healing time.
“I continue to believe this is a temporary loss of sight, Rafe,” he’d said that afternoon. “We need to be patient, and wait.”
Between Celestine commending her son to Bernice and Zach’s jealousy flaring up, Rafe decided he’d have Ling make arrangements for him to move to the Palace Hotel the next evening.
“You’re quiet about discussing the question,” Zach grumbled. “You knew her in the past, so why not admit it?”
“When I was making runs in the Caribbean a few years ago, I met Parker Judson at the Palace Hotel when King Kalakaua was there. You should remember. You, too, were there.”
“I remember,” Zach said morosely.
“I met Parker there that night. He had me over here to meet the big sugar giants like Claus Spreckels. Parker was interested in my pineapples, and I was interested in his land. So I came. That’s where he introduced me to his niece. I knew her casually for a short time. That’s all.”
“Well, lately you’ve spent too much time in her company. And don’t forget Eden.”
The mention of Eden riled Rafe even further. “Then maybe you should spend more time keeping Bunny happy, instead of running off for the day trying to dig up dirt on your brother, poor old Silas.”
“I’m not amused about poor old Silas.”
“And neither is the woman you’re enamored with. I’d prefer she had someone else to sip tea with each day. So don’t make things so easy for me by running off.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Zach said.
“A wise decision. And, I’m also leaving. That should help.”
He heard Zach straighten abruptly. “What! Leaving?”
Rafe heard self-incrimination in Zachary’s voice. The pendulum of his emotions had swung from accusation to affection. “What do you mean? You can’t go yet! Why, Dr. Kelly isn’t through with you. There may be more tests. Even surgery. You can’t give up. Your sight will come back—it’s got to.”
Rafe smiled. “Thanks. I meant to say, I’m going to get rooms at the Palace Hotel. It’s less complicated. And I actually prefer the quiet.”
“If you go, I’ll go too. You’ll need help.”
“There’s Ling.”
“We’ll both go. Come to think of it, Grandfather Ainsworth’s still there, too. He may not go with Mr. Hunnewell to Washington, D.C., after all.”
Rafe found that news curious. Ainsworth had been keen to go to Washington to meet with Thurston for the discussion with the Secretary of State on the possibilities of annexation. They wanted to do this before President Harrison left office and Grover Cleveland, who was against annexation of Hawaii, was sworn into office.
“Did Ainsworth say why he’d decided to stay here in the Bay City?”
“No, but I don’t think he’s feeling well. Hunnewell is going on, though. He’s promised to keep me updated by wire on everything important that happens in the meeting. I’ll be the first with a big story in the Gazette. A personal interview with Hunnewell. Maybe even old Thurston. Great-aunt Nora will smother me with beautiful leis when we get back to Honolulu.”
And you’ll be more indebted to not disappoint his daughter Claudia with that big diamond engagement ring, Rafe thought. The truth was, Rafe liked Miss Claudia. She was an unpretentious girl. She was not as beautiful as Bernice, but was attractive, and more importantly, he believed she sincerely loved Zach, and believed the Scriptures to reign in all matters of life. He couldn’t say the same about the troubling Bernice Judson and her determined ways.
When Rafe moved to the Palace Hotel his condition unexpectedly changed. It began with a letter from Ambrose Easton, written from the leper settlement of Kalawao.
Rafe kept Ambrose’s letter inside his pocket for a day. Finally he’d sent Ling to Ainsworth’s room to ask Ainsworth to come read it to him. Having to do such things was a key point of Rafe’s frustration. Always independent, the need to “ask” for help was particularly menacing to his peace of mind.
Ainsworth came over at once to see Rafe.
On an earlier occasion Zach had told Rafe that his grandfather was ill, but as far as Rafe could tell by his voice Ainsworth was as determined of spirit as ever. He told Rafe of how he was in communication with Thurston and Hunnewell who were hard at work in Washington, D.C.
“I believe, my boy, that the annexation issue is going our way,” he said after he and Rafe had settled into comfortable chairs. “Thurston is assured that a revolution to unseat the corrupt monarchy will take place this year. Naturally, we cannot unseat Queen Liliuokalani without cause, but if the information we’ve received of her intentions to overturn the legal Constitution is true, we will have ample legitimacy. Secretary of State Blaine has privately assured Thurston that the president will back us before he leaves office, if he should lose this election to Grover Cleveland. I believe he’ll call a special meeting of Congress and ask for a vote to annex the Hawaiian Islands.”
“If that proves true, sir, it’s the best news I’ve had in months.”
“Indeed, indeed … and now, this letter from Ambrose you wish me to read.”
Ainsworth drew his chair closer and accepted the envelope from Rafe. He opened it and
read the contents quietly, showing respect in treading on another’s privacy. Rafe didn’t mind sharing the letter from Ambrose, but he would have if it were from Eden.
Most of Ambrose’s letter was personal, written to Rafe not merely as his blood uncle, but as his spiritual mentor—the decent man and lay pastor who’d brought him to Christ and discipled him through childhood and into Rafe’s robust teen years as a pearl diver in the old Easton lagoon. Many times Ambrose had kept him and Keno out of trouble.
As Ainsworth concluded the letter he must have decided Rafe needed to be alone to digest the news. He stood from the chair, returned the letter, and, with a firm but brief pat on Rafe’s shoulder said, “I have a meeting with Spreckels and Hunnewell.” He left the room for his own suite.
Rafe mulled over what he’d heard.
Ambrose had given Rafe some wise and compassionate advice, as well as affirming they were all well on Molokai, but Ambrose did not mention Eden.
He might at least have discussed how she was responding to Kalawao. Why hadn’t he written anything about her? If anyone knew Eden, it was Ambrose. They were all well, he wrote, so there was no cause for Rafe to be concerned. What then, had changed about Eden that caused Ambrose to avoid mentioning her, or passing a message she may have had for him?
Rafe could conceive of only one reason—Eden must have no personal thoughts she wished to share. Rafe realized their relationship must be truly broken.
Rafe had written to Eden before he’d left on the steamer for the mainland, and from San Francisco when at Parker Judson’s. But neither of his letters had produced a response.
He’d been forthright—perhaps too straightforward about the likelihood of permanently losing his vision. He hadn’t told her, however, how her father, at the medical ward in Honolulu, had strongly urged that they end their relationship until the outcome of Rafe’s condition could be determined.
The request had put him in an uncomfortable position. If he’d said no, he would have appeared self-centered and inconsiderate of the yoke he’d be placing upon Eden.
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