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Chapter 27
It was late afternoon, the second day after Tiny Pohaku’s death. Alicia had suggested this time of day for his ceremony, so that it would not be necessary to use lights that might attract the attention of her grandfather. The invited guests were sworn to secrecy beforehand, and had arrived on foot or by vehicle, with the times of vehicle passage staggered, so as not to draw notice. They were at the northern edge of the Ellsworth Ranch, on a knoll where a sturdy Pohaku family home had stood more than a hundred years ago, affording a commanding view of the sea.
None of her grandfather’s ranch buildings were visible from here, and she saw only a few horses and cows on the steeply sloped land, in the midst of palm and kamani trees, and a magnificent wide-branched banyan tree that had stood for centuries, shading the livestock on hot days. The great tree looked capable of being there long after everyone Alicia knew was gone.
That morning, Ealani had obtained the ashes of her beloved husband from the funeral home, in an urn that had been made by a friend who was a potter. The brown clay urn, which she held as she stood with Kimo and Alicia, bore a fish design on one side and the image of a small outrigger canoe on the other—representing the perilous voyage his ancestors took from Tahiti to Hawaii in the 18th century.
For security purposes, there were only twenty-eight invited guests, though far more would have come, had they been invited. Ealani and Kimo planned to hold a larger ceremony the following day, on the waterfront estate of J.D. Covert, a wealthy landowner who used to purchase fish from Tiny for his upscale restaurant in town. There would be no ashes spread tomorrow, but the empty urn would be present. So would Alicia Ellsworth, because Kimo had invited her.
Now one of Ealani’s cousins, Uki Mikaho, began to strum a guitar, a soft melody he had composed for this occasion. Alicia was impressed that he had come up with such a beautiful piece of music so quickly, and knew he had been inspired by his love of the departed Tiny, who had meant so much to so many people.
Alicia knew Uki from his work as a popular musician at the hotel. Normally outgoing and talkative, he was a font of Hawaiian songs and legends, and had produced half a dozen tapes of his own original music, for sale in the gift shop. Now he looked quite subdued, and near tears. Alicia, dressed in a colorful Hawaiian skirt and blouse, looked around at the racially mixed group, noting that they all wore their Sunday best, and some had leis of fresh plumeria blooms around their necks, as she did herself. She smelled the sweetness of the bouquets, floating on a soft, warm breeze.
At a signal from Ealani, Uki stopped strumming, and everyone stood silently. Some of the women sobbed softly.
“My husband was a very special man,” Ealani began, “not only to me, but to each of you. Everyone who came in contact with him loved him.” She paused, and smiled. “Well, almost everyone.”
A wave of gentle laughter carried through the guests, because she was referring to the owner of this land. The crying women grew quiet, as everyone thought of fond memories about the man who had passed on to the spirit world.
In a voice breaking with emotion, Puka Charlie, the one-armed soldier from the mainland, told of a time Tiny had helped him build his house, and refused to accept any payment at all, even though Tiny paid for some of the building materials himself. “This man who did not own a house helped me build mine,” Puke Charlie said. “He was the most generous person I ever met.”
A beefy Hawaiian man told of a time he was fishing with Tiny and two other men, when a big wave swamped their boat and damaged the inboard motor. Tiny kept his wits about him, never panicked, and made them all laugh as they got the pumps going and kept the craft afloat. The large man smiled at the recollection. “Tiny said to me, ‘We are not meant to drown on this day, or Ealani would have warned me not to go out, so don’t worry, we’ll make it.’ And sure enough, we were rescued an hour later by a passing sailboat.”
When he was finished, Ealani told of her husband’s last request, spoken to her only a few weeks ago when he knew he did not have long to live. “He asked us all to celebrate his life, and not to feel sadness. I know that is hard because we miss him so much, but it is what he wanted.”
She motioned toward Uki Mikaho, and he began strumming the guitar again, louder this time. “This is a special tune that Tiny loved,” he said, “about fishermen going out to sea.”
Tears streamed down Uki ‘s cheeks as he sang a beautiful, melodic song in the native Hawaiian language, the words of which Alicia could not understand, but she did not have to. The sentiment and emotion overflowed from his powerful voice, bringing more tears to the assembled mourners, including Alicia.
Kimo reached out, and took her hand. With a gentle smile, he said, “No sadness, remember? No tears.”
She smiled in return, thought he looked very handsome in his best Hawaiian shirt, white jacket, and white trousers. He even wore shoes for a change.
Uki finished the lyrics of the song, but continued strumming softly.
Ealani opened the urn and gazed out upon the great blue ocean, where her husband used to fish in small boats, proving his bravery many times in rough waters. Even from this distance, Alicia could see waves crashing against the black lava shore, shooting fountains of white spray high in the air. She could not imagine a more beautiful place than this leeward shore of Loa’kai island.
The old woman walked several paces down the grassy slope toward the water. When she was still a good distance from the shore, she stopped to scatter the ashes on the land. Hitting the air they were lifted on a gust of wind, swirled around for several seconds and then fell across the ancestral property like a gentle gray rain, this land that Tiny had fought so hard to regain for his family.
“Now he has his land back,” Ealani said in a breaking voice, keeping her back to the gathering. “At last, my husband has his land back. His spirit will dwell here forever, for all eternity.”
When the ceremony was over and everyone was dispersing, Kimo and Alicia walked together along a narrow dirt road, heading for the turnout where she had parked her car. It was twilight, and some of the stars were becoming visible around a cloud cover.
After making sure no one could listen in, Kimo said to her, “With your gracious gift to us, you have earned the right to know something about my family. About me, actually.”
He told her of his unusual birth in the sea, and of the tropical fish and other creatures that had been his first companions, and about Moanna, the Sea Goddess who dwelled in a spectacular, enchanted realm in the depths of the sea—an entity that was an amorphous red glow, a deity without form. Alicia listened, not saying a word, trying very hard to believe him.
When they reached the small imported car and stood by it, he said, “Do you think I am crazy for saying such things?”
“No, of course not.”
“You believe me, then?”
She narrowed her gaze. “I’m not sure. You must admit, it is a remarkable tale. And your tattoos? Were you born with them?”
He grinned. “No, a friend in Honolulu does them for me, using black kakui dye—from the candlenut tree.”
She nodded, and in the waning light she stared at the exquisitely drawn and colored marlin on the back of his right hand. “He’s quite an artist.”
“I think so, too. Come over here.” Then, taking her hand, he rubbed her fingers along the skin behind one of his ears, and then behind the other. “Gills,” he said. “I have gills. That’s why I can stay underwater so long. You didn’t lose sight of me beyond the waves. I dove underwater like you said, and didn’t come up for a long time because I don’t need to surface for air.”
“Gills? But how?”
“To me, they are like any other part of my body. I don’t know exactly how I got them, except I was given them shortly after birth by Moanna. It is not such a stretch to accept this. In the womb of a pregnant human woman, every embryo contains evidence of ancient gills, a residue of millions of years of evolution, going back to the
time when our primitive ancestors swam in the sea.”
“You’re a throwback, then?”
“A throwback? Like a fish that gets thrown back in the water, you mean?”
She told him what she meant, that he was like ancient humans who emerged from the ocean with gills and began to walk on the land.
He laughed at his own ignorance. “I mostly know things about the sea, my family, and Wanaao Town.” Then he went on to astound her even more by saying he had a swim bladder in his body and a strong bone and cell structure that enabled him to dive to the deepest part of the ocean without equipment, and an enhanced arterial system that kept his body warm even in the extreme cold water of great depths. While she listened in disbelief he also said he could detect sounds in the water that were beyond the hearing range of normal human beings, and that he didn’t need to consume the foods that normal people ate, because he could forage in the seas for underwater plants, sediment worms, sea snails, phytoplankton, and zooplankton, along with small fish—all of which he could eat raw.
She looked at him askance, wondering when he would admit that it was all a joke. But he didn’t, and said to her, “It’s not well-known that there are a number of sea creatures that are parasitical to coral reefs—some species of fish, crustaceans, worms, and starfish—so I’ve been known to eat them, too.”
“I’ve heard of surviving in wilderness forests by eating worms and ants,” she said as they got in the car, “but I never thought of doing it in the sea. At least, I never thought of humans doing it.”
“It doesn’t bother you that I eat worms? And starfish?”
“No, why should it?”
He smiled. “Good. Our relationship isn’t over on the spot. Besides, I eat normal human food some of the time. It’s just that I have other options.”
As they drove away, Alicia switched on the headlights. “Shall we go swimming in Crimson Cove?” she asked. “I’d like you to demonstrate what you’ve been telling me.”
“Now?”
She looked up through the windshield, at the sky. “It’s pretty dark, but I have a flashlight in the glove box.”
“Then it’s a date.”
Soon they were using the flashlight to negotiate the narrow trail that led to the cove. Kimo held her hand tightly, protectively.
“I hope your batteries don’t go dead,” Kimo said.
“You don’t know the trail well enough to get us back out?”
“Maybe I do, but I don’t want to risk you falling off the edge. We might have to stay out here until dawn.”
Alicia understood what he meant by that, didn’t care if the batteries went dead and they had to spend the night together. Even if he was kidding about his abilities in the sea, she still liked him. A lot.
They crossed over a wide, flat rock at the base of the trail, an area above the high tide line. By the time they reached the beach, some of the palms were illuminated with phosphorescence that had sprayed from the water. This, and the starlight, provided enough illumination for them to turn off the flashlight. At the water’s edge, Kimo looked at her and asked, “Shall I look the other way while you get into your swimsuit?”
She giggled. “All right.”
Each of them looked away while they removed their clothing, and then jumped in the water. “I haven’t skinny dipped since I was ten years old,” she said, as they swam side by side in the water, which was warmer than the night air.
“You’re not ten anymore. I peeked.”
She splashed water at him.
“Now watch,” he said. “I’m going to dive and stay under for at least forty minutes. That should be long enough to prove I can breathe underwater. The world record for a normal human holding his breath is far less than that.”
And then he was gone, leaving no more than a ripple on the dimly-lit water.
After what seemed more like closer to an hour he returned, and splashed her as she sat in shallow, warm water that lapped around her. “There’s your proof,” he said.
“I think you tricked me,” she said. “You just swam away underwater and surfaced where I couldn’t see you in the low light. Admit it!”
“So you don’t believe me?”
“No!”
“I think you do believe me,” he said.
“Maybe I do. You’re a work in progress, though. Our relationship is a work in progress.”
“Is that right?” He got out of the water and retrieved his clothing, along with hers. She watched his muscular, tattooed form in the low light, felt aroused.
“You’re not peeking, are you?” he asked, handing her clothes to her as she emerged from the water.
“We can lay our clothing on the sand,” she said, “like a beach blanket.” She gave him a long kiss that said everything about what both of them had in mind.
They arranged their things on the beach, then lay atop them and made love in the tropical starlight, with more passion than Alicia had ever experienced. She’d had a boyfriend a year ago on the mainland, but Kimo was her first in Hawaii. She was starting to believe everything he was telling her, as astounding as that seemed. Something seemed very special about him, almost magical. And she could think of no better place to meet a magical person than in this Hawaiian paradise.
After they made love, he held her and asked, “You remember what my mother said at the town meeting?”
“Of course, that the strange events around here are the ocean’s protest against the damage humans inflict on the waters and on sea life. I must admit, it sounded far-fetched to me at first, but a man in the audience said your mother is very spiritual, and that she would know.”
“I have always spent time with the creatures of the sea, swimming with them since I was a baby. When I told my father how I knew from my relationship with the ocean that the living things in it were agitated, he suggested that I might begin to lead the sea creatures, instead of only swimming in their midst. He wanted me to direct them in a major demonstration of natural sea power, driving humans away from the beaches on every Hawaiian island—for just a day—and announcing why it was being done, asserting that people have to change their ways and stop harming the ocean and the life forms in it.”
“You could do that?”
“I don’t know, but I did conduct some successful tests the other day. I’ve heard of horse whisperers, trainers who use bonding techniques to get animals to do what they want. I tried a similar technique on marine animals, stroking them gently and pressing my face up against some of them while humming soft melodies. It actually worked.”
“Wow. You’re a fish whisperer, then?”
“More of a fish hummer, I suppose. To my amazement, some of the animals made response tones to me, as if mimicking my sounds.”
“Obviously, they are trying to communicate with you. Wouldn’t it be amazing if you could figure out their languages, their own natural sounds?”
Kimo took a deep breath. “What a monumental task that would be.” He fell silent for several moments, and then his voice broke as he said, “My father never knew I was going to try what he wanted me to do. He died before I could tell him.”
Alicia felt him tremble, and she drew him close to her. “I’m so sorry, Kimo.”
“I still don’t know if I can do what he wanted, on the scale he wanted.”
“I’m sure you can do it.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You realize these are highly unusual things you are telling me,” she said. “Here on this romantic beach, after making love and hearing all that, I feel like I’m in a dream, and none of this is really happening.”
“Shall I pinch you?” he asked, touching her arm.
She pushed his hand away, then kissed him. “I believe everything you’ve said. Now I want to know, what can I do to help?” And she really did believe him.
“By promising to never leave me,” he said. Then he told her more, of the strange dreams he’d been experiencing about people involved with the ocean, including the t
eenage girl he’d seen standing at a barred window, staring sadly out to sea. He told Alicia of the flow of data that seemed to come from the sea, passing through his sleeping brain into the mind of the girl—highly technical, difficult-to-understand information about the ocean. And how the girl kept thinking, “The ocean is dying. The ocean is dying”.
“Some first names came to me in the dreams,” he said. “Such as for the girl at the window. Of course, I don’t think any of it is real. They’re just dreams, but somehow my mind—so filled when I am awake with worries about the ocean—took a weird path while I slept.”
“How strange,” Alicia said. “I wonder what it all means.”
“I don’t know, only that many unusual things have been occurring recently.” He paused. “Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“They’re just dreams, Kimo. You’re not going crazy.”
As they sat on the starlit beach they pledged eternal love, then fell silent and held each other.
#
The lovers put their clothes on for warmth from the cooling night air, then lay on the sand looking up at the stars. “It sounds incredible where Moanna is. Maybe I can meet her myself someday.”
He hesitated. “Maybe. Maybe there’s a way.”
They drifted off to sleep, and in Alicia’s arms Kimo began to dream. Once more he saw the faces of the dream-people he’d seen before, and now, in addition to first names he learned their surnames, addresses, and places of work, all over the world. And much more information came to him, about these and other people. Compiling everything in his mind, he now had information on two hundred and eighty-seven persons, instead of ninety-four.
Among the new details, Kimo learned the full name of the teenager at the window: Gwyneth McDaniel—or he thought that was the way he heard it. Supposedly she was being kept against her will at the Kenson Hospital in the English seaside village of Hampington. In one manner or another, everyone on the list seemed to be involved with the ocean in a way that was sympathetic to his own beliefs, including the girl at the window, who had earlier received a flow of data about the ocean, and whom he could again see staring through the bars at the water, longing to escape.
Ocean: The Awakening Page 15