Silversword

by Phyllis A. Whitney

  A woman was walking on the lanai outside the empty room, and she must have heard us, for she breezed through the door with her hands held out to Ailina, and for the first time I faced David’s remarkable mother.

  12

  Helena Reed must have looked at least ten years younger than her age. She wore a silk blouse of dusty rose, with a belted white skirt, and except for a wedding ring of twisted gold, her only jewelry was the small pearls in her ears. She was tall, with elegant legs and long slim feet in white sandals. Her short hair, still brown, had been carefully cut to give a casual, easy-to-keep air, and she wore rosy lipstick with a touch of blush on her cheekbones. In contrast to Joanna, she was a woman who cared about how she looked. Moving with scarcely suppressed energy, she came into the room to take Ailina’s hands and kiss her cheek. Then she turned to me, again with both hands extended.

  “So this is Caro I remember so well—grown up. Welcome home!”

  I liked her at once. There was a warmth in this woman that would be extended to others.

  “You were my mother’s friend, weren’t you?” I said, and gave my hands into her strong clasp.

  “I hope I still am.” Her dark eyes held a directness that was rather like David’s. “We must talk about that today. David’s told me how troubled you are.”

  Ailina said, “There’s no place to sit down in the palace, so why not go outside to the banyan tree? I’ll find you there in a little while.” She took an envelope of snapshots from her purse. “These pictures were sent to me from New York. A friend discovered some things in a shop there that may belong in the king’s bedroom. There’s a photograph there that shows the room as it used to be, and I want to make some comparisons before I turn this over to the committee.”

  “Fine, we’ll meet you outside,” Helena said, and we walked down the stairs and went outdoors.

  The banyan tree was old, and had dropped a great many trunklike roots, but it had yet to catch up with the size of the tree in Lahaina. A yellow poinciana bloomed generously on the palace grounds, and there were monkeypods and a kapok tree, among others. A few visitors moved about, while office workers used the park as a shortcut, or a place to sit in the open air. Honolulu traffic bustled all around us, but its tall buildings were held away by the acres of the park, and this was a quiet, peaceful place.

  “I’m glad you’re coming to visit us in Hana,” Helena said when we’d settled on a bench in the shade.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” I said. In spite of the friendliness of her greeting, there seemed something solemn in the air between us.

  “I’m glad we could arrange to meet before you came out. How is your grandmother?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “She seemed better when I first came than she does now. Perhaps I’ve upset her. She was glad to see me at first, but now she only seems to want me gone.”

  Helena nodded soberly. “They’re all afraid at Manaolana—haunted. This started right after your father’s death. Perhaps even before. It’s lessened over the years, but I suppose your coming has opened all the old wounds again.”

  “I don’t think they want my mother to recover.”

  “I know how you must feel. I was in and out of Manaolana around that time. I’d come the day before to meet your Grandmother Elizabeth. Keith was very proud of his mother, and he wanted me to persuade Noelle to be kind to her and not upset her while she was here. He believed that I had some influence with Noelle, since we’d been friends for most of our married lives. That’s why he invited me to stay at Ahinahina for a few days.”

  “So you were there at the time of the—accident?”

  “Yes. Afterwards, I stayed on with Elizabeth for a few days to do what I could. Your mother hadn’t been all that nice to her—I suppose Elizabeth was so openly on Keith’s side, and things were going wrong.”

  “I can’t remember my mother being anything but kind. Except for angry spells once in a while. Elizabeth may have asked for it.”

  “You must remember Noelle that way, of course. And she was kind to everyone most of the time. But your father was driving her up the wall.”

  “Because of Ailina? I know about that. Even Ailina has told me a little.”

  “Ailina was young and a very beautiful girl. And your father could put out a lot of charm when he chose. I expect he bowled her over. One night he brought her in to sing for his guests, and—”

  “Yes—I’ve remembered that night, and how upset my mother was.”

  “The trip up the mountain was just a few days later. I was there and Noelle was in as excited a state as I’ve ever seen her. I was doing my best to distract and quiet her. Marla, who can sometimes be insensitive, and was pretty young herself, chose that time to come over and try her new camera.”

  “So’s that’s when she made that picture? I’ve seen it in Noelle’s room. I wonder if Marla put it there?”

  “It’s possible. But it’s your Grandmother Elizabeth I want to talk about. How was your life in San Francisco?”

  I was quiet for a moment, aware of the park, of Honolulu’s voice around us, but Helena was waiting for my answer, and I didn’t think her interest was idle.

  “I only learned recently that Grandmother Joanna and my mother were still alive. Whatever letters came for me, and whatever letters I wrote, were all held back. I can never forgive Grandmother Elizabeth for that. As soon as I learned the truth I phoned Joanna that I was coming to Maui.”

  “Yes. David told me how you found your mother in the garden. But you’re young enough to heal, Caroline. I don’t think Joanna ever will.”

  “All my memories are of a woman strong enough to take anything. But she’s changed and I’m sorry for that.”

  “Noelle is a tragedy she’s had to live with every day. At least, with Elizabeth, what happened was over and done with. And she had you to help her recover.”

  I couldn’t answer that—it was so far from the truth.

  Helena went on quietly. “I admired Elizabeth Kirby in a great many ways. Though I only knew her slightly.”

  “Then you couldn’t have known her at all! I’ll be happy if I never see her again.” I heard the bitterness in my voice, but I couldn’t hold back my feelings any longer.

  “Then I’m sorry for her,” Helena said. “She must not have a great deal left in her life.”

  “She has her hotel—that’s all she really cares about.”

  “I can understand how it must have been for you. You were such a loving little girl, and you’d always been approached with love. Elizabeth comes of different stock. I’m not sure she knows how to show affection, yet perhaps she feels just as deeply as Joanna does.”

  “She wouldn’t let my father go! She kept a sort of shrine to his memory with pictures and clippings and trophies he’d won. None of it had anything to do with his adult life. She shut that out as though it never existed. She shut out my mother. Only I was there every day to remind her.”

  “I see. It’s true that I hadn’t understood any of this. But I do know that Elizabeth was in a state of anxiety during those last days at Ahinahina before the accident. Your mother couldn’t have enjoyed having her there, ready to champion Keith at every turn, ready to blame her daughter-in-law for whatever was wrong. Your father’s angers went a lot deeper, where your mother’s were like summer storms. She was threatening to leave him, yet she said she’d never give him a divorce. If Elizabeth and I hadn’t been there, I’m not sure what he might have done. I think your father could never take opposition of any kind.”

  There were conflicting stories here—he’d wanted a divorce, he hadn’t wanted a divorce. But did it matter which was true?

  “I don’t know if he’d have married Ailina,” I said. “I really do remember how much he seemed to love my mother.”

  “They wouldn’t have wanted you to sense what was happening. They both loved and protected you. I’ve always thought that if your mother had been able to take his affair with Ailina more calmly, and had jus
t waited, it would have died out.”

  Had my father known that Ailina was carrying his child? Would that have been thrown in my mother’s face? But that was a question I couldn’t speak aloud.

  “The trip to the crater should never have been made at that time,” Helena said. “It was arranged so that Elizabeth could ride up the mountain with them. We all love to show off that stupendous crater. Your grandmother had done some riding as a girl, and Joanna had been getting her up on a horse again, so she was actually enjoying it.”

  I couldn’t remember any of this, and probably hadn’t been interested.

  “They invited me to go along,” Helena continued, “but I didn’t feel like making the trek under the circumstances. There was too much unpleasantness in the air, and I felt apprehensive. Even Elizabeth began to see how explosive the situation was between her son and Noelle, and she tried to call off the trip the night before. Your father insisted on going, even though he was furious with Noelle. Of course, that was what Elizabeth was afraid of. By that time, Noelle was frightened too—she knew how violent Keith could be. But Marla assured her that she’d be there and everything would be fine. So Noelle agreed to go.”

  “But Grandmother Elizabeth didn’t make the trip after all?”

  “No. She claimed a migraine the next day and stayed behind. Afterwards, she blamed herself. She felt that if she’d been there she might have prevented what happened.”

  “I suppose you know that Marla had a thing about my father too?”

  Helena sighed. “When Marla was young she had the sort of ego that could make her believe in fantasy.”

  “She still believes. She told me it was Noelle who carried the tapa beater up to the crater.”

  “Tapa beater?”

  But of course Helena wouldn’t know about that. “Never mind,” I said. “I’m glad you came over to the palace and I could meet you. But I’m still wondering why you wanted to see me and open all this up.”

  She answered quickly. “David thinks you’ll never be in one piece yourself until you find out all that happened on the mountain. He wanted me to tell you whatever I could remember.”

  “I only want to know because of my mother. The rest doesn’t matter to me. Joanna and Marla, and even Tom, who seems to have been in love with Noelle before she married my father, all think she’s happier left alone.”

  “David’s wife didn’t believe that.”

  “Oh? But I understand that Joanna wouldn’t let Kate Reed examine Noelle.”

  “She couldn’t officially, but she was able to talk with Noelle a few times—or tried to. She told me once that if your mother could ever be brought to where she would face what had happened, there might be a chance. But she felt that Noelle was basically fragile and Kate wasn’t sure what the result would be.”

  “David seems to have some plan in mind. He spoke about a ‘dress rehearsal’ when I come to Hana.”

  “Yes—he’s told me. It worries me a little. Tell me something—do you think Noelle’s happy the way she is? Are they right to leave her alone?”

  “I don’t think so. She flew into a rage with me a day or so ago. And she tried to run away and ride up the mountain by herself. That doesn’t sound very happy to me.”

  “I’m only guessing, but Noelle used to be my friend. I know her pretty well. Sometimes recently I’ve felt that something she’s hidden behind all the protective layers is trying to get out. Maybe it needs to get out before she can be well.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “That’s what I believe too.”

  “I’ve heard Kate talk about this type of amnesia—the hysteric kind that’s more psychological than physical. It seems to come in all possible variations. Sometimes Noelle seems perfectly rational and even recognizes the present time. But such moments never last. It’s as though she doesn’t dare allow them to last—because there’s a part of her that is terrified.”

  “I’m glad we’ve talked,” I said. “Your knowing Noelle as a friend helps.”

  Ailina was coming toward us from the direction of the palace, and she looked elated. “I think my friend in New York is on to something, and we’ll recover some more bits and pieces for the palace. Are you ready for lunch? There’s time before we catch our plane back to Maui. You’ll join us, Helena?”

  We walked through Honolulu’s busy downtown traffic, and among its tall buildings—all nonexistent when the palace was built. Jake’s was a busy and popular restaurant, but we found a table downstairs where we could be served promptly. Ailina and David’s mother talked about mutual interests, and they seemed to realize that I’d gone far away in my thoughts, so they left me alone.

  Afterwards, out in bright sunshine again, Helena came with us to a taxi stand. “I’ll see you in Hana,” she said, and took my hand. “Aloha, Caroline.” As always, the word carried warm affection, and I found I could say it easily in return.

  When we drove off, I looked back and saw Helena standing at the curb in her dusty rose and white, her chin tilted in her special, vital way. I wondered how close she had been to David’s wife.

  We talked only a little on the way to the plane, and kept to safe subjects.

  “If I’m here long enough,” I told Ailina, “I’d like to take lessons in Hawaiian. It’s a beautiful language.”

  Ailina smiled. “I had that idea once myself. It didn’t work out.”

  “You?”

  “For a time the language was almost forgotten, and now there are arguments about it. For a while everyone wanted to be Western. We use a great many Hawaiian words casually, but we don’t put sentences together and speak it very much. So I went to a class for a few weeks. For me, it was hopeless. The experts themselves can’t agree on pronunciation or spelling or meanings. Hawaiian is coming back a little now, but it’s changed, and we can’t recover all we’ve lost. There’s a sort of pidgin in use, but that’s a private language, and if outsiders try to use it they’re resented. Of course, Carlos and I always spoke English, though he knew Spanish as well, from the Philippines. I remember once when I wanted to know how to say ‘I love you’ to him in Hawaiian, I asked a few people. They laughed at me and told me they said it in English. The closest I could come was anoi—for beloved.”

  “At least,” I said, “there’s an effort to preserve history now. Today I could glimpse what’s being done. You’re a part of that—you and Helena and so many others.” I touched the kukui lei around my neck. “David says you made these for him to give me when I was little.”

  She looked pleased. “Yes—I’m glad to see you’re wearing them. That was a long time ago.”

  Too much that was good in my life seemed to belong to a long time ago. But Noelle was now, and so was I, though I mustn’t use Noelle to escape thinking about me.

  We spent a good many hours together that day, Ailina and I, and by the time we’d made the plane trip back to Kaanapali, and driven across to East Maui and up the mountain, I felt that we’d become friends. I didn’t want to think about Koma at all, or about how he tied Ailina and me together in a strange way. I couldn’t tell her what her son had revealed.

  When we reached Manaolana it was past dinnertime and Ailina wouldn’t come in. “You’ll have a lot to sort out now, Caroline. But I think you can handle it.”

  No one came to greet me and the house seemed very still. I wasn’t hungry, so I went straight upstairs. Now the thought of Koma that I’d been holding away thrust itself into my mind, demanding attention. The relationship was hard for me to absorb. It would have been different if I’d liked him. But we had nothing in common, and he liked me no better than I liked him. Perhaps that was why he’d told me—to see me squirm, and to further hurt my image of my father.

  The blood tie really didn’t matter—didn’t mean anything. When I walked into my room I felt utterly weary and unable to take anything more. But there was something new to deal with immediately.

  At first glance it appeared that someone had scattered flowers across the bedspread. But as I
looked more closely I saw that these weren’t the petals of real flowers, but something far more ominous. What lay there was the ruin of the splendid silversword poster I’d seen in my grandmother’s office. It had been cut into pieces there on my bed, so that the whole formed a sort of jigsaw puzzle. The silvery green leaves of the base were bunched near the foot, the black of the crater behind them. The great stalk with its little purple flowers grew upward toward the pillows. At the top lay jagged bits that had formed the sunset sky, with a single bright star shining all by itself. The whole poster was there in rough form.

  I thought of Noelle sitting in the volcanic sand of the crater, plucking at the leaves of a silversword—lost in meaningless occupation, while her husband lay dead, her sister unconscious, her own mind rejecting what was too awful to face.

  Someone moved in the doorway behind me, and I whirled around.

  “Sorry,” Marla said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. How was your trip to Honolulu?”

  “Look,” I said, gesturing toward the bed. “Who did this?”

  She came into the room, her look suddenly guarded, and picked up a bit of paper that showed several purple blooms. “Interesting. Even imaginative—if it was meant to scare you. I expect it’s a warning, Caroline.”

  “Stop it!” I told her. “Did you do this?”

  She dropped the bit of paper. “I wish I had thought of it. But I don’t really believe I did. Not unless I’ve had another lapse.”

  This was mockery, but I pounced on her. “What do you mean? Have you had other lapses?”

  “How would I know? But I don’t really think so.”

  “Noelle?” I asked.

  “It seems likely. She can be very creative at times, and I think she doesn’t like you. If you stay here, you can probably look for more tricks and tormenting. Perhaps something inside her knows that she’s better off as she is. Maybe she’s sane enough to grasp for safety.”