Silversword

by Phyllis A. Whitney

  I bent to kiss her on the cheek, and she accepted my caress in the same puzzled way, lost once more, as she so often seemed to be when Marla was present. There would be no further chance for me to be alone with her now, and I left her to Marla and went out to the lanai.

  Joanna had started off toward the stables.

  “May I come with you?” I called.

  She nodded indifferently. “If you like, I’m just taking a walk.”

  “Escaping?” I asked, falling in beside her as she turned toward the road that led past the nearest stable and up toward the paddock.

  “I only wish I could, Caro. But nothing is ever going to be any different from the way it is now. That’s what you must accept for the time that you’re here.”

  “I don’t want to accept it! You used to stand up to things when I was little. I remember how strong you were, and how I always counted on you.”

  She walked on, her eyes fixed straight ahead. “Marla’s changed a lot from when she was young. She used to be terribly jealous of Noelle. She felt that her sister had everything she lacked—beauty, popularity, then a husband and a daughter. I’m afraid some of her resentment was my fault. Marla wasn’t always a lovable child, but she was sturdy and strong, where Noelle needed much more care and attention. I suppose I showed more affection for Noelle than I was able to show Marla.”

  “So now perhaps Marla’s getting even?”

  Joanna looked startled. “How can you say that? She’s changed to a much more loving sister, and she looks after Noelle with great care, and tries to spare her any hurt or unhappiness. I appreciate what she’s doing, and I try to make up for my not caring enough in the past.”

  Somehow, I wasn’t convinced, and I wondered if my grandmother was simply fooling herself. More and more it seemed to me that Marla’s treatment of my mother showed a hint of the malicious, perhaps even the cruel. But this wasn’t what Joanna wanted to believe.

  We’d climbed to where paddock fences began, and we both sat down on a big outcropping of rock to watch the horses. Lihilihi was there with her new foal, and I watched the gangly little thing with pleasure.

  The sun had risen above the mountain, and the wide top of Haleakala stood clear high above us. Nearby, hibiscus and oleander bushes were bright with shades of red. I wanted to let all purpose, all struggle flow out of me and accept the tranquility of the morning. But I hadn’t yet earned the reward of peace, and wasn’t sure I ever would.

  “Tell me about Koma’s mother,” I said. “I’m going to Lahaina with Marla this afternoon, and she said we’d see her there. You don’t want this to happen, do you?”

  “I don’t want her to come here. You can do as you please. I don’t suppose it matters—nothing matters anymore.”

  “That’s not the way you used to be,” I protested again. “It’s not really the way you are now. I’ve seen you take hold. If you took a stronger hold with Noelle, maybe she could be helped.”

  Joanna only shook her head. “The grandmother you remember disappeared a long time ago. I’m too old for this sort of battle now.”

  “You’ve given up to Marla! But I’m not sure that’s the wise thing to do.”

  “I’m not sure of anything anymore. Be quiet now, Caroline. Look at the horses. Let everything else go.”

  I tried to obey, but there was a tightness in me that wouldn’t unwind. She sensed it and after a while she relented and began to talk quietly about Koma’s mother.

  “I think you’ll like Ailina. Everyone always has.”

  “Including my father?”

  At least I’d sparked some interest in her. “Who told you that?”

  “Yesterday, when we went to Ahinahina, I remembered something that happened one evening when I was small. Ailina and some other people were singing in the garden and playing Hawaiian music. My mother became terribly angry and made a scene. Small as I was, I knew the beautiful Hawaiian lady had caused the trouble. I’ve talked about her since with David. If I’m to meet her today, I ought to know just what I’m getting into.”

  “Look, Caroline, your father was the way he was. I couldn’t condone, and I didn’t like him for what he was doing to Noelle. I sometimes had the feeling that he was trying to get even with his mother. Perhaps that was his main drive. Not that it excuses him. If we don’t take responsibility for our own actions, we can’t ever be whole human beings. In fact, I wonder how many of us achieve that anyway. Events get in the way. It wasn’t only Noelle your father injured; it was Marla too. She was idiotic enough to fall in love with him.”

  “Marla! She was in love with my father?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, so you might as well know. She used to have a gift for deceiving herself and thinking whatever she chose about any situation. She even believed for a little while that Keith would divorce Noelle and marry her. Which, of course, was nonsense. Even if he couldn’t be faithful, Noelle was the one he came back to. At least until Ailina came into the picture. I don’t think Ailina even liked him in the beginning, but she was very young, and your father was a charmer. As long as your mother could laugh and take what he did lightly, things went fine on the surface. It was when Noelle stopped laughing that it all turned sour.”

  “Weren’t there other men for Marla after my father died?”

  “Not really. Oh, she was pretty enough in those days, and she never wanted for a man. But your mother isn’t the only one whose emotions were frozen into the past. I suppose your coming here has stirred everything up again for Marla.”

  “She seemed fond of me when I was little.”

  “You weren’t any threat to her then. Now you are—because of Noelle. She’s become more of a mother to Noelle than I’ve ever been.”

  “Why is she taking me to meet Ailina? Why couldn’t her plans be managed by telephone?”

  “Who knows what script she’s following in her head? Marla’s always been too imaginative. You might as well go along and play it by ear.”

  That was all I could do. Though perhaps there would be something more, if Ailina were willing to talk about my father.

  “Anyway, Caroline, you’ll be going home soon, and then you can put this behind you and start living a life of your own.”

  There was no use arguing with her about that.

  She went on, changing the subject. “David phoned this morning. He wanted to know how Noelle was and he asked about you. You weren’t up yet, so I didn’t have much to tell him. He wants you to go to Hana with him day after tomorrow—Friday.”

  In spite of all my warnings to myself, the thought of a whole day spent with David lifted my spirits. I needed something to look forward to.

  Joanna went to the fence and called to Lihilihi. The mare came readily to nibble the carrot held out to her, and her lively child came with her on legs still not quite certain.

  “When you found Noelle last night,” Joanna said over her shoulder, “did she say anything about why she was riding up the mountain?”

  “She said Keith was hurt and she had to go up there to help him. I talked to her a little while ago and she seemed to be mixed up in time again. But somehow, I think she wants to remember.”

  Joanna surprised me with a sudden outburst. “Sometimes I want her to! Almost anything would be better than the way things are now.”

  “Then you’re on my side,” I said eagerly. “You’ll help me?”

  Her brief show of emotion died away at once, and she spoke listlessly. “Caro, honey, it isn’t possible. Marla and Tom are both against what I might have done—perhaps should have done—long ago. They’re sure this would destroy Noelle, and I can’t fight them. I never could.”

  If my grandmother felt like this, she was a captive in her own house. If she could just be roused to stand against those two, perhaps I’d have a chance with Noelle.

  “I can understand about Marla,” I said. “But why Tom?”

  “I suppose he still remembers his old feeling for her.”

  “I wonder. He tolera
tes her, but he also seems impatient with her at times.”

  She turned her back on the nuzzling mare, and leaned against the fence, facing me. “How can you possibly be sure that Noelle would be any better off if she remembers? What if Marla and Tom are right? Noelle must have seen everything that happened. Her mind has had the wisdom to put the truth—whatever it is—away from her. This is something we can live with. The other way—Noelle might be taken from us because of her spells of violence. If she ever injures anyone, we could lose her. How can I make you see this, Caroline?”

  The awful thing was that my grandmother might be right. “I wish I could find a way to be convinced of something. Of anything.”

  “Listen to me!” Joanna’s lethargy lifted again. “What if Marla believes that Noelle herself wielded the tapa beater—that she was so angry with Keith that she attacked him? What if she should remember that she caused her husband’s death? Your father’s death?”

  Everything in me rejected this. “Do you believe that?”

  She shrugged, giving up again—the old seesaw. I was sharply aware of her own attitude of self-defeat, and I gave up too for the moment.

  “I’d better go back to the house and change my clothes if we’re to drive to Lahaina,” I told her. “Marla said we’d have lunch early before we leave.”

  “Have a good trip,” Joanna said absently.

  When I paused partway down the path and looked back, she stood at the paddock rail staring up at the mountain. As though it held all the answers.

  In the house I went upstairs and changed into my favorite cool dress of hyacinth blue. Sandals with low heels would help for walking. At the last minute I put on David’s kukui lei that I’d rejected last night. My thoughts seemed as muddled and disoriented as Noelle’s.

  There was one question no one had answered—which one of the riders had carried the tapa beater to the crater? I would find out from Marla today. Somehow I would persuade her to tell me before this coming trip was over.

  10

  Once we were down the mountain, the highway across the isthmus into West Maui was a fine road, wide and fast. Now there were sugarcane fields wherever space offered. We passed signs that read: SMOKE AHEAD, since in Hawaii cane was burned before it was harvested, to concentrate the sugar. Once we passed a fiery field where the burning seemed out of control, but men were working around it to contain the flames.

  As we followed the road around their base, the massive West Maui mountains cut steeply down on our right, slashed by deep ravines. Since their rise was close and more precipitous, they seemed higher than Haleakala, though their height was only half as great. In some places the road had been sliced through black lava rock that crowded us toward the sea. On our left were beaches—sometimes smooth sand, sometimes stretches of rocks or pebbles. White-crested rollers surged in to be challenged by tiny figures on surfboards, balancing skillfully in their ride toward shore, or else tumbling into roaring foam, bodies and boards tossed together wildly.

  In several places little parks had been created between road and beach, furnished with picnic tables and shade trees—protected spaces for all to enjoy sand and water. Places where the condominiums and hotels could never encroach.

  This morning both sky and ocean wore their pure Hawaiian blue, while far-out puffs of white cloud traveled swiftly before the wind. Sunlight glittered on every swell, turning water to a shade of emerald as it neared the shore. In some places the water came nearly to the road, and during a storm this highway must become impassable. There weren’t too many roads to offer choices on Maui.

  I still held back from asking my question, because once it was asked the atmosphere between Marla and me would change. For the moment, she was trying to keep everything friendly, though I felt sure she hadn’t relented in the least about hurrying me home to San Francisco.

  “Tell me about David’s wife,” I said. “He talked about her a little yesterday.”

  “I never liked her much,” Marla said frankly, “I think she looked at all of us at Manaolana as interesting neurotic specimens. Especially Noelle, of course. Luckily, my mother would never let her treat Noelle.”

  “Why luckily?”

  “Because I think Kate’s probing would have made everything worse. Oh, she was plenty smart and successful in her work. She knew a great deal—but she didn’t know us.”

  “How did she die?”

  “A drowning accident Currents can be tricky off Maui, and she wasn’t Hawaiian born. Of course her death hit David pretty hard. And Peter too—their little boy. David’s just beginning to come out of it, though I doubt if he’ll ever find another woman who can measure up to Kate in his eyes. So be careful, Caroline.”

  There was the malice again. Marla always saw too much.

  We didn’t speak again until she nudged me. “Look at the monkeypods!”

  We were passed a grove of wind-twisted trees, their flat tops offering a canopy of shade.

  “Henry Perrine Baldwin planted a number of monkeypods on Maui, including those. As well as poinciana regia and other trees. He wanted to leave a legacy of beauty for future generations to enjoy. Baldwin, of course, is one of the old missionary names on Maui, and there are still descendants of the family living here.”

  “Were they among the first missionaries to come?”

  “Dwight Baldwin was. Since he was a good doctor, as well as a missionary, he devoted himself to the care of bodies as well as souls. You’ll see the house where he lived, since Ailina Olivero is working there as a volunteer. It was a big family and Baldwin descendants became the planters and businessmen who changed the island’s entire fortunes.”

  “Those early landowners must have had it made, with all the help available for their sugarcane and pineapples.”

  “Those first white landowners got the land easily because the Hawaiians couldn’t conceive of land ownership. The land had always belonged to the gods. Most native Hawaiians had the good sense to prefer fishing to working in fields and canneries. Besides, the planters found they could get cheaper labor by bringing in workers from outside. The Chinese came first, and then the Japanese, who’ve settled on all the islands. There were Scotsmen, too, who migrated to the islands, as well as Norwegians, Germans, and Portuguese. The Filipino wave came last. Now Samoans come from American Samoa There are Tongans too—mostly illegal, like the Mexicans in California. The language problem has been really something, but that’s why we’re such a wonderful, rich world mixture.”

  As we rode along beside the water, the fascination of waves rolling in below the road held me. In the land direction clouds flowed through gaps above steep slopes that were sometimes green and planted, sometimes bare. We followed through a tunnel cut in the rock, and for a few moments daylight dimmed. Then we were around the curve and approaching the town. The island of Lanai floated across the water.

  “Lahaina’s a mixture of the old plus a lot of tourist honky-tonk,” Marla warned. “There was a day when it was the whaling capital of the world, but thank goodness we’re leaving the whales alone now. Even more important to history, it was the first capital of Hawaii, when Kamehameha the Great united the islands. Of course, it’s been more than a hundred years since the monarchy moved the capital to Honolulu.”

  These were Marla’s islands, and her voice warmed as she talked about them. They were my islands too, but I was still a stranger, and while I listened with interest, there were more personal things I wanted to ask about.

  “Marla, do you know who took that picture of my father and mother and me that I saw in Noelle’s room this morning?”

  “Of course I know—I took it,” she said.

  I thought of the challenging smile my father wore in the snapshot, and Noelle’s angry expression. Even I, clinging to their hands, had looked sober.

  “What did you do to make them both so mad at you?” I persisted.

  She wasn’t playing Buddha now, and she spoke caustically. “How should I remember? I was always ruffling somebody in
those days. I guess I was born a rebel.”

  Her denial came so quickly that I suspected she remembered something very well. Something disturbing that must have happened that day.

  She changed the subject quickly. “What did you do with the rock I gave you to return to the crater?”

  “David took me down the beginning of a trail and I left it there.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I don’t remember exactly, but I think I spoke the right words. I didn’t feel like being anything but respectful.”

  For once Marla gave me a smile of approval. “Thanks, Caro. Now perhaps everything will be better.”

  I asked a direct question. “What is it you’re afraid of?”

  “I don’t think you really want to know.” She gave me the same answer she had before, when I’d asked who had carried the tapa beater up to the crater. Since we were back to the same response, I pushed my real question.

  “Don’t put me off, Marla. Who carried that museum piece up the mountain? And why?”

  “It was there for anyone to pick up who walked into my mother’s office.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “So she huffed and she puffed and she blew the house down! Is that what you really want, Caroline?”

  “What if it has to come down before it can be built up again?”

  She didn’t answer. We were coming into Lahaina now, and small modern houses climbed the slopes between cane fields—some of them probably company houses built for workers.

  Along the waterfront, older structures had been restored—through the efforts of the Lahaina Restoration Foundation and Maui Historical Society, Marla said. Much of the original flavor of this little seaport town had been preserved. No one could build anything new that was out of character, or destroy what was old.

  Every possible type of shop crowded elbow to elbow along Front Street, and tourists in sun hats, bright skirts, and shorts thronged the sidewalks. Shops offered everything from seashells and black coral to oriental antiques and fine ivory and jade. Art galleries and restaurants mingled with historic buildings—all a hodgepodge that one didn’t find to this extent in other parts of Maui.