06-I'm Kona Love You Forever

by JoAnn Bassett

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  “It’s a great thing. You ever see the movie, ‘Lilo and Stitch’?”

  “Is that the cartoon about the little Hawaiian girl and the blue animal from outer space with the big ears?”

  “That’s it. In the movie, Lilo tells Stitch that in Hawaii, “‘Ohana means family. And family means nobody gets left behind.’ I think that’s a good way of describing it.”

  “Yeah. It’s nice.” She slipped a small backpack off her shoulder and began rooting around in it. “That reminds me. I’ve got something for you. My aunt—I mean my ‘auntie’—Lani got it for you when we went to the store to get the stuff to color my hair.” She handed me a small package wrapped in sky blue paper.

  “Mahalo,” I said.

  “Wait, I know that one. It’s on the trash cans at McDonald’s. It means ‘thank you,’ right?”

  “That’s right.”

  I peeled the wrapping away. Inside was a piece of stained glass about six-inches square. It was a symmetrical pattern of sea-glass colors framed in koa wood.

  “It’s called a ‘sun catcher’,” said Kaili. “See how the blues and greens look like the ocean? Auntie Lani said it’s a pattern from some famous guy who did stained glass. I can’t remember his name.”

  “Frank Lloyd Wright,” I said. “He designed the windows at the King Kamehameha Golf Club in Wailuku.”

  “Yeah, I think that’s the guy.”

  “This is really pretty,” I said. “Mahalo.”

  “Is there a Hawaiian word for ‘you’re welcome’?”

  “You know, I don’t know a good Hawaiian word for ‘you’re welcome.’ In my ‘ohana when somebody gives you a gift you give them a hug. I figure that’s pretty much how you say ‘you’re welcome’.”

  I put out my arms and we hugged.

  “Okay, enough kumbaya,” I said. “We’ve got to get to work. I’m going out of town and I need to leave work a little early today.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m heading over to the Big Island for a relaxing weekend and to track down a birth certificate for one of my brides.”

  “She doesn’t have one?”

  “I’m sure she does, but there was a mix-up when she was adopted.”

  “She was adopted?”

  “Yeah.” I thought about telling Kaili about how Hawaiian hanai adoption worked but decided to let it go. I figured it’d be better to just stick to things she could use.

  I spent the morning catching up on my bookkeeping and I had Kaili clean up the back room. By lunchtime the entire shop gleamed and I could actually see the wood on the top of my desk.

  “I don’t think this place has looked this good since the fire,” I said.

  “Fire?”

  As we walked to Café des Amis for lunch, I told her the story of how a disgruntled customer had set fire to my shop.

  “Wow,” she said. “That’s crazy. My mom says Maui’s boring—nothing ever happens. So even though Auntie Lani and Uncle Doug live here my mom wanted to live in Honolulu.”

  “It’s true we don’t have big city life, but believe me, plenty of stuff happens.”

  ***

  On the way back from lunch I steered Kaili into the Gadda da Vida.

  “Farrah, I’d like you to meet Kaili, Sifu Doug’s niece. She’s been helping me out in the shop this week.”

  Farrah came around from behind the counter and enveloped Kaili in a hug. “That’s so far out. Your uncle’s such a righteous dude. And, well, this girl here’s my b/b/f/f. That stands for bestest best friend forever. So, I guess that makes you a friend of my bestest best friend forever. How would that go? Like f/o/m/b/b/f/f?”

  Kaili glanced over at me and smiled. A couple of days earlier she probably would’ve thought Farrah was messing with her, but now she knew better.

  “That’s great,” said Kaili. Her tone was a tad condescending, but I figured she was just practicing her “fake it ‘til you make it” and I didn’t take offense. Farrah’s gushing was pretty over-the-top.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Why don’t you go in the back and get us each a Popsicle? If there’s a pineapple one, I dibs it.”

  “No problem,” Kaili said. “I don’t like pineapple.”

  Once Kaili was out of earshot, Farrah said, “What kind of wahine doesn’t like pineapple?”

  “The kind that wishes she was back home in Los Angeles,” I said. I quietly explained how Sifu Doug had sort of foisted Kaili off on me.

  That afternoon I told Kaili we’d be knocking off early. “I’ve got to pack for my trip.”

  “Do you think my mom would let me get a tattoo?” Kaili said. “Most girls my age have at least one tattoo.”

  “Why don’t you save up your money to get one in an inconspicuous place?” I said. “It’s probably best to start small since this is a ‘for life’ commitment.” I’d dealt with at least a couple of brides with hideous tattoos in prominent places, but now wasn’t the time for horror stories. Besides, it might give her ideas.

  “How about a little dolphin this big? I could put it right here.” She held her thumb and finger a few inches apart and tapped her shoulder.

  “Or maybe on your upper thigh.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’d be okay,” she said. “I want it where people will see it when I’m in my bikini.”

  “Tell you what,” I said. “I’d like to pay you for working with me this week.”

  “Oh, thanks. But Uncle Doug already told me I’d be working for free,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

  “No, I want to. You were a big help with cleaning this place up and getting my files in order. You can use the money to start your tattoo fund.”

  I pulled out my checkbook and wrote her a check for twenty hours of work at minimum wage. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it’d give her a nudge toward saving up for something she wanted.

  “But let’s agree on three things,” I said. “First, you’ll get your mom’s permission; second, it will be small, two inches or less; and three, you’ll put it where no one will see it when you’re wearing school clothes.”

  She stuck out her hand. “You got it. Mahalo!”

  We shook and I handed her the check.

  “But what if my mom won’t let me?” she said.

  “Never hurts to ask.”

  At two o’clock Doug’s wife, Lani, came to get Kaili. I thanked her for the pretty sun-catcher and she hugged me.

  “You have no idea how much we appreciate what you’ve done for our ‘ohana,” she whispered.

  After they left I leaned back in my chair feeling quite pleased with myself. Maybe I should consider having a kid. From the looks of things, I had the ‘mom thing’ pretty much figured out.

  CHAPTER 11

  Since Hatch and I were only going to be gone for the weekend I packed light. A couple pairs of cropped pants, two shirts, the requisite undies, and a filmy short sky-blue nightie I thought looked sexier than nothing at all. Like everyone else I pretty much wear rubba slippas no matter what the occasion, so there was no need for extra shoes. I threw in a tiny bottle of shampoo I’d gotten at a hotel somewhere and my toothbrush and toothpaste. It all fit in my trusty black roll-aboard bag with the gimpy wheel.

  I’d inherited a bunch of money right after my birthday last year but I hadn’t kept it long. I paid off my house and bought a new car but the rest went into trust funds for my family members. I guess I could’ve kept it for myself and gone all “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,” but having glimpsed the work required to maintain that level of pretention I realized I wasn’t up to the task. I gave away the money and went back to being me. The gimpy-wheel suitcase had been a graduation present from Auntie Mana. She was gone now, so even if I’d kept every dime of my jaw-dropping windfall there was no way I would’ve parted with my bag.

  I ate dinner with Steve and headed down to Hatch’s place. He wouldn’t be home from work until eight-thirty the next morning, but I have a key to
his cottage. Wahine likes the company and I like being there to greet Hatch when he gets home. And besides, he’s only five minutes from the airport.

  I read for a while and went to bed early. When Hatch isn’t around I usually get up at sunrise and walk the beach park before the weekend crowds show up. The first throng is usually surfers and kite-boarders. They leave and the joggers show up, along with groups of old people doing their open air tai chi. When the fitness freaks head home for their kale and brewer’s yeast smoothies, local families begin arriving in their banged-up minivans and pick-up trucks. From that point on the noise level rises as toddlers and elderly tutus are herded to the covered picnic tables. By lunchtime the parking lot is full and the grassy areas are a checkerboard of picnic blankets interspersed with guys throwing Frisbees and clutches of gossiping women camped out in lawn chairs. The air becomes scented with hibachi smoke and, although it’s not legal to drink in Hawaii public parks, the smoke is often enhanced with a familiar yeasty tang.

  ***

  Hatch got home at about eight-thirty on Saturday morning. He banged through the door, sending Wahine into a frenzy of barking, leaping and licking.

  “This dog is like a one-dude ticker tape parade,” Hatch said. “It doesn’t matter if I’ve been gone ten days or ten minutes, when I come through the door it’s always cause for celebration.”

  “A one-dude parade?” I said. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen prey to Farrah’s bad habit.”

  “Nah, I know Wahine’s a ‘she’,” he said. “It’s just that a dude’s a dude, you know? I mean, like you’re a dude, even though I’m a hundred percent sure you’ve got the girl goods.”

  “Nice of you to notice.”

  “Darn right I noticed,” he said. “Get over here and let me show you how much I love coming home to you.”

  He took me in his arms and I wanted to forget we had less than half an hour to get to the airport.

  ***

  The flight to Kona is only forty minutes long but throughout the trip the views are spectacular. There’s a good reason why Hawaii Island is called “Big.” It has almost double the land mass of the other major islands, O’ahu, Maui, Kaua'i, Moloka’i and Lana’i, put together. The entire island, all four-thousand square miles, is Hawaii County. It’s the largest county—area-wise—in the entire United States but it has less than two-hundred thousand residents. That’s roughly fifty people per square mile, which leaves lots of open space. A good portion of the island is relatively new, geologically-speaking, covered not in dirt or trees but by freshly cooled lava.

  From the plane window I watched as we climbed over the top of Mauna Kea with its telescopes and observatories. Since it was winter the ground was splotched with large patches of snow. Winter often brings light dustings of snow to Mount Haleakala on Maui, but Mauna Kea gets so much people actually ski on its slopes. There are no lifts so you have to drive up and ski down. I don’t know anyone who’s done it, but Hatch said a few guys at his station brag about skiing Hawaii in the morning and then hitting the beach in the afternoon.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Hatch said.

  “First thing, I’m going to check into what happened to Lili’s birth certificate.”

  “How long do you think it’ll take?”

  “Couple of hours.”

  “And then what?” he said.

  “And then we can do anything we want. We’ve got two full days.”

  “I’ve never been here before,” Hatch said. “I’d like to look around a little. And…” He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I’d also like to just spend time with you. No clocks, no agenda, no fire bells going off.”

  “Sounds great to me.”

  We landed and picked up our luggage from a cart they pulled up next to the plane. The airport was open-air, like Maui’s Kahului Airport used to be, with a fresh breeze blowing in from the ocean.

  We went to the rental car counter and Hatch dug out his Hawaii driver’s license. “What’s the best kama’aina deal you got going?” he said. “Oh, and you’ll want to see this, too.” He flashed his keychain with a tag sporting the Maui Fire and Rescue emblem. The emblem had the fire service Maltese cross along with his last name and employee number.

  The clerk looked like she was still in high school. Her glossy black hair was pulled into a waist-length ponytail and she had dimples in her tawny cheeks. The dimples deepened as she looked up at Hatch and flashed him a smile.

  “You’re a fireman?” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  She glanced over at me as if hoping I’d ask where the ladies’ room was and give her some “alone time” with her new-found hero.

  “I can give you a real good deal,” she said. “Will you be the only driver?”

  “No, my friend here will also be driving.”

  Friend? Seriously? And then I realized it would probably have been awkward for Hatch to call me his “girlfriend.” My gender was obvious, and to this kid, a couple of mid-thirty-somethings like us probably fell in the “senior citizen” category. At least he hadn’t referred to me as his “lady friend.”

  “Okay,” she said. She pecked on her computer. “We’ve got a Jeep Wrangler I can let you have for fifty a day.”

  “Fifty bucks?” said Hatch. “That the best you can do?” He eyed the next counter down, where a strawberry-blond clerk at a competing rental agency was giving him a come-hither look.

  “It’s normally almost eighty,” said Dimples.

  “Make it forty total and you’ve got a deal.”

  “But the taxes and airport fees are more than that,” she said.

  Hatch put his hands flat on the counter, as if about to push himself away. “Consider it a public service donation.”

  “I can’t do that with a Jeep. But I could probably give you a compact car.”

  Hatch looked at me. I nodded.

  “Fine,” he said. “But the forty’s gotta include everything. No add-ons.”

  The dot matrix printer behind her started chunking out a rental agreement.

  “It’s an inclusive rate,” Dimples said. “But you’ll have to fill it up before bringing the car back. Get a receipt. Otherwise we’re gonna have to charge you eight-twenty a gallon.”

  We went to the numbered parking space and found the car. Cars didn’t get any more non-descript than the car sitting there. A sliver-grey Ford Focus with a grey cloth interior and dozens of dings and scratches adorning the door panels, bumpers and hood. The windshield was so smeared it looked as if it’d been wiped off with a greasy hamburger wrapper.

  “Why do people beat on these cars so much?” Hatch said, fingering a particularly glaring door ding.

  He documented every dent and mark on the rental agreement and handed it to the security guard as we drove out of the lot.

  “So, here we are,” I said. There’s no mistaking Kona for Maui. The area around the Kona airport is about as bare as it gets. Red dirt, chunks of lava rock lining the road, and a horizon of flat ocean to the west that stretches for thousands of miles with no other islands in sight. People have likened the North Kona area to the moon, but it would have to be a moon with warm humid air, a well-maintained highway, and a spectacular rugged coastline.

  “Yeah. Where to first?” Hatch said.

  “Let’s drop our stuff at the B and B and then see what I can dig up on this birth certificate. The sooner I get that handled, the sooner we can start relaxing.”

  “Do you want me to go with you? Because I was hoping to start relaxing at about…” He checked his watch. “Eleven-thirty-two. Exactly twenty minutes from now.”

  “I’ll be fine on my own. Tell you what. Why don’t we check in and then I’ll drop you off at the beach? I’ll keep in touch and let you know when I’m done.”

  Our B & B was cozy, with seven rooms clustered around a large palm-studded courtyard. The room we were given was decorated in plantation style, featuring an enormous canopied bed with thick dark wood posts and yards and yards of sheer
ivory fabric flowing from headboard to footboard and then cascading on down to the floor.

  “Whew,” said Hatch. “That bed looks like it came from ‘Little Shop of Horrors.’ I hope it isn’t hungry.”

  We unpacked and headed back outside.

  “I’m going to ask around and see if I can locate the woman who’s listed as the mother on Lili’s current birth certificate,” I said. “The one whose baby died. Hopefully, after all this time, she’ll be willing to talk about it.”

  I slid into the driver’s seat. I had to adjust the seat forward about four clicks since I’m eight inches shorter than Hatch. “Which beach would you like to check out first?”

  The beaches in the area of Kailua-Kona turned out to be rocky and shallow. We saw nothing to compare to Maui’s Ka’anapali or Makena, just small sandy coves and long stretches of black surf-pounded lava.

  “I’ll probably have to go up north to surf,” said Hatch. “The conditions don’t look so good down here.”

  “This is where they start the big ‘Ironman’ triathlon,” I said. “They start the swim right here in Kona Bay. So, maybe you should just take a swim and then relax at a bar or something. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” We shared a quick kiss and as I pulled the car back onto the road I looked in the rearview mirror. Hatch was heading for the water looking as happy as I’d seem him in months.

  The first place I stopped was a small local grocery store. The Gadda da Vida is the pulse-point of Pa’ia. Nearly everyone comes through there at some point in the day, and gossip was a commodity almost as valuable as cash.

  The store I picked in Kailua-Kona was called the “Kona Korner Kash & Karry.” It took me a moment to figure out the name because the sign had one big “K” with each of the other words stacked on top sharing the “K.” Quaint, but definitely hard to read. But aside from the confusing sign, the place could’ve been a clone of the Gadda. It was two stories high, with clapboard siding and a small paned window in the front door. Both stores were painted the same color: a shade of unappetizing yellow-green. I had no idea what the color was called. I remembered how thrilled Farrah had been when she’d found five gallons marked half-price on the hardware store discount table. Maybe the name was “Paint-Mixer’s Error,” or perhaps just, “Oops.” It seemed to be a popular hue.