by E. Coulombe
Chapter Seven
Emma heard the children's muffled shouts as she stepped out onto the lanai to arrange the heliconias the gardener had carried in. Maybe our guests are finally here, she thought, as she washed her hands under the outside spigot. She came around the house in time to see the barge unload at the dock below. From where she stood, she could see a small crowd of black heads centered round a lighter one. As a body, they made their way up from the dock as she walked down to greet them. Seems we don't have guests often enough, she thought, surveying the crowd.
Suddenly, to Emma's surprise, a striking young woman stepped out from behind Moki's large frame. She was tall, with beautiful fresh skin and light blonde hair that waved across her shoulders, leading down to a figure that could elicit nothing but praise. Kerri held out her hand to Emma. Dimples graced Kerri’s cheeks and her hazel eyes sparkled.
This is a small island, and we live in close quarters with few diversions, Emma thought as she examined Kerri's beauty, sighing mentally, and this will soon be one of them. Kerri bowed her head slightly as Emma draped a plumeria lei round her neck, and kissed her on the cheek. “Welcome to Nakoa.”
“Emma!” She heard a shout across the growing crowd. Where are all these people coming from? Is the entire village here now? She turned towards the voice just as George came running up and grabbed her, nearly knocking her over with his powerful embrace.
George had changed very little, Emma noticed. His dark brown hair still curled wildly around his head. It hasn't thinned at all, she thought, and that wonderful crooked smile still plays across his face. His brown eyes glistened in the sunlight. George was shorter than Andrew, but just as wiry, and he had a delightful mix of assurance in his stance and timidity in his gestures that Emma had always loved.
Introductions went around the group and the newcomers were greeted warmly by each Nakoan with a traditional embrace and a flower or ti leaf lei. The throng moved to the steps of the lanai, where Emma and Nani served lilikoi juice to everyone. Emma shuddered when a ukulele suddenly appeared, fearing the luau would begin too soon - the Nakoans were notorious for spontaneous parties, but Nani had cooking to tend to, and Grant needed help at the ranch, so that when the juice was gone and Andrew whisked Kerri away to show her the lab, the crowd too cleared out. Emma was finally able to take George for a turn around her garden.
Like most of the homes of Hawaii, Kihei was made entirely of wood, and built in the old plantation style of raised roof with low overhanging eves. But larger than most, the roof had been built high enough on the front to incorporate a second level with dormer windows. Painted a dark green and deeply shaded by monkey pod trees, the home blended easily into the surrounding landscape.
Turning, his arms spread wide to grasp the magnificence of the horseshoe-shaped bay, and the jagged emerald-green mountains framing the Cotswold style home, George bellowed, “Incredible! European charm and tropical splendor. Simply magnificent!”
“And we’re equally delighted to have you here, George,” she answered. “I thought you would appreciate this place.” She hooked her arm into his and gently guided him along the path. She looked for a second too long into his soft brown eyes, “but you know, you really should have come sooner.”
“I know,” he answered and pursed his lips. “Took me awhile to get over it you know. It was really hard to see you go.”
Emma continued walking along the path which led them past the family burial grounds. Small stone tombstones surrounded by a low lava rock wall.
“I was wondering, George, did Andrew ever talk with you about his home here?”
“I knew he grew up in Hawaii. And that he had a brother who still lived here.”
“Grant,” she nodded, “and at Christmas we would send him and his family a card,” she said, her voice tightening “but that was all I knew.”
She stopped and looked at the ground, as if considering whether or not to go on. Finally she gestured with her hand. “Until we moved here and I learned about all of this. Do you know that Grant and Andrew actually own the entire island? George, why didn’t he ever mention this to us before?”
George remained silent. They had returned to the front of the home and before starting up the lanai steps he turned back to view the sloping green lawn which ended in a steep drop to the white sand beach and was ringed by the cobalt blue of the ocean. He was moved by what he saw, and by a slight feeling of dread as he faced Emma.
“Well, Emma, perhaps something happened here which he would rather forget.”
“Bad enough to give up all of the good memories as well?”
“Maybe so,” George said pensively.
“What, George? If you know something, please, tell me.”
“You need to ask Andrew. Honestly,” he said as he looked into her eyes, “only he knows what he fears.”
They entered the shade of the deep lanai fronting the plantation home, encased by rails and overhanging eaves. Nani’s mother, Meialoha, appeared from the side door with tall glasses of juice. She sat with them and gave George a shy, sweet smile; similar to an Asian gesture, but more open and less afraid. A uniquely Hawaiian smile. George was pleased as he quietly sipped his fresh squeezed pineapple juice.
The straight-stemmed parrot-beak heliconias on the table next to Emma accentuated her black hair, which curved slightly as it touched her shoulders. She still had it, the thought, and she had charmed this old estate in the same way she had once charmed him. He sat and stared, unblinking, at the remarkable picture she made.
When he’d last seen her, just before she and Andrew had departed from the east coast, Emma had been worn, angry and tired from fighting an unseen foe she couldn’t seem to defeat – her daily competition with Andrew’s work. He could tell she felt better, fresh and rejuvenated, and she spoke animatedly of the island, its people, of sugarcane and Hawaiian rainforests.
She told him of the cattle ranch, which was a large part of the Nakoan livelihood now. They exported some raw cane, but mostly beef. But they needed little from the outside world, she said. They grew their own taro, and harvested from the sea, and lived as the old Hawaiians lived, without cars or electricity, even speaking the Hawaiian language, which no other islanders could do.
Andrew and Kerri stepped out from the lab on the far side of the lawn, and headed towards the lanai. George stood and walked down the stairs, and turning back to Emma, he lightly kicked the bottom step as if it was where he would find his courage. “You’re happy now aren’t you Emma,” he whispered, before Andrew was close enough to hear.
“Does it show that much?”
“Yes girl. You’re downright beaming. This place is wonderful. I envy you, and I’m happy for you. For both of you.”
“Are you George?”
“Yes.” He answered affirmatively but his eyes seemed to ask, Why? Shouldn't I be?
“I love it here,” she sighed, “but I only wish we had come sooner.” A shadow crossed her face as she turned to look out to sea.
Kerri was exhausted from the journey, and relieved when Emma offered to show her to her room. They walked into the front entrance of the house, past a sitting room on the left and a small reading room on the right, across another wrap-around lanai and into a courtyard filled with large-leafed monstera vines and other tropical foliage.
“It's beautiful,” Kerri said. “It doesn't look this big from the outside.”
“Thank you,” Emma answered. “Let me help you unpack.” They entered one of the doors off of the courtyard. Emma looked around the room, suddenly aware of how spartan it was. “We can bring down the old vanity table from the attic, and you should have a mirror. I didn't realize you were so…”
“Young? I get that a lot,” Kerri laughed. “I'm not as young as I look, and no, don't fuss. This room's fine. In fact, it's perfect. I love the books, and the shells on the windowsill. I like things simple, without distractions.” She paused and looked around. “Is it like Andrew not to give details?”
&nb
sp; Emma shied away from Kerri's directness but quietly agreed. “Yes,” she said. “In fact, I only found out today that you two had never actually met.”
“And I was surprised, really, that after only an hour's conversation, he would invite me to come stay.”
Emma's eyes widened, and she quickly turned away. Damn, she hadn't meant to do that; her face always gave away more than she had intended.
“He called to ask about my work.” Kerri backtracked. “His questions were insightful. He looked at the same data the Harvard elitists had been disputing and grumbling over for months, and he saw clearly not only what I had proven in my work, but beyond that, to what I might discover next. Way out here on Nakoa, there's a guy telling me things no one else had even considered.” Kerri shook her head and laughed.
Emma looked out the window, and an unbidden smile crossed her face. Beneath the window Nani's youngest granddaughter, Ku'ulei, was trying to squirt her brother with a sea cucumber. She surprised herself when it squirted from the wrong end and doused her own shirt instead.
“I mentioned his ideas to several colleagues,” Kerri went on, “thinking that maybe they were already in the literature and that I'd missed them. But none of them had heard of any of it, or even thought of it before.” Kerri took a turn looking out the window, but her gaze was towards the lab, not the children. “Asking a truly new question? That's rare today.”
“Yes,” Emma uttered, and bowed her head, feeling more anxious the longer Kerri spoke.
“I'm so sorry,” Kerri said, turning back toward her. “Please forgive my ramblings. I'm sure this is old hat to you, but to me it's very new. And exciting.” Emma glanced at the smile spreading across Kerri's face, and then looked down at the hand-woven lauhala mat that lay on the floor. Nani had just finished it and it was the nicest one in the house; all the others were worn and tattered. For a moment she saw a similarity she didn't want to acknowledge.
Plucking up her courage, she finally asked, “You never met Andrew before, when we lived in Boston?”
“No, I never did,” Kerri replied, and this time Emma didn't let Kerri see the relief that spread across her face.
Kerri pulled what looked like size two jeans from her bag, and laughed, holding the doll clothes up in front of her. “I probably won't need the three pairs of pants I brought with me, will I? It's so hard for an Easterner in mid-winter to believe that it won't be cold. I just couldn't not pack them.”
“Oh no, it's wise you did. It sometimes gets very cool here in the islands,” Emma answered as she left the room and a cold chill swept in behind her.
Chapter Eight
Refreshed, in his brightly colored silk aloha shirt and khaki pants, George crossed the interior courtyard and entered the front hall of the compound. The cut of the shirt elongated George’s otherwise short stature. His curly black hair was still damp, and just as Emma remembered, George smelled slightly of one of those expensive men’s cologne which she could never quite identify.
Kerri, rejuvenated from a sponge bath, was close behind. In the manner of the day for young women she wore as little as possible. A strapless, clinging, cotton top cut high and a mini skirt cut low, altogether having the desired effect of showing off her alluring, flat midriff.
Emma had twisted her long black hair into a knot on the back of her head, above her bare shoulders and delicate neck which was accented by a Nakoan shell lei. She wore a silk sari gathered below her chest so as not to reveal the bulge below. She looked lovely and Andrew flashed an approving smile as he crooked his arm in a gentleman’s gesture, hoping to be her escort to the village luau prepared in honor of their guests.
The only village on the island of Nakoa was Pu`uwai. It was unusual in design, or lack of design, Emma thought, as they walked along the dirt path leading from the Collier compound up to the village. The homes were built like those on the other islands - plantation style cottages, two bedroom houses capped with corrugated tin roofs overhanging a wide, often wraparound, lanai. But on Nakoa they were built on larger lots, and without the modern infrastructure of roads, sewers, signs, parks or sidewalks, the individual dwellings were scattered, connected by foot paths. Yards were enclosed in lava rock walls to keep out wild pigs and goats.
Over time, three communal areas had arisen upslope from the homes. A European style church built solidly of yellow cut-rock and concrete, a one room school house rebuilt since the hurricane, and a school yard doubling as the community center. It was nothing more than a large field, ending in a hula mound and thatched shelters over tables and benches, seats for at least a hundred.
“Oh my, it's nearly full tonight,” Emma said as she, Andrew, George and Kerri entered the schoolyard for the luau. Upon their entrance a young man stood in the center of the hula mound and blew into an enormous conch shell -- a deep bellow to signal the start of the feast -- while someone else, swirling a burning stick, ceremoniously lit the torches ringing the compound. She felt everyone watching her and lowered her eyes, intimidated by the attention. The kapuna, one of the Nakoan elders, chanted an oli, thanking the gods for the bountiful food and friends.
Emma went to the serving table to take her turn switching palm fronds to shoo away flies. The lomilomi and the sashimi were disappearing fast, along with the pipi kaula--the smoked beef that Uncle Atta had made. Unfortunately, old man Kane had not yet returned with the mullet, which was fine with Emma for she was not yet accustomed to eating fish with eyes staring at her. When everyone was served, she helped Meialoha cover the dishes with banana leaves and seated herself next to Andrew. George was on her other side, next to Kerri and across from Grant, and Grant’s large Hawaiian wife, Waielai.
“When am I going to see your boy? Michael?” George asked Andrew.
“Surf’s up,” Moki, who was passing by, answered for Andrew. “The boys said they would make it back for dinner, but…” he shrugged. George leaned across the table towards Grant, a suppressed smile curling on his lips and a twinkle in his eye as he asked, “So, Grant, do you and your lovely wife have children as well?”
“Yes, we do,” Waielai answered, “five children. You've probably seen some of them around the house.”
“Ah. I thought so.”
“Ah, what?” Grant asked a little too sharply.
Andrew laughed and shook his head, and left George to answer. “Well, Grant, have you noticed anything unusual about your children?”
“No, what do you mean, unusual?”
George and Andrew both laughed. “I'm sorry, Grant, I don't mean to offend,” George said. “It was your crazy brother's idea, not mine. Tell him, Andrew.”
“No way, George, you started this,” Andrew said. “You probably remember it better than I anyway.”
“I just might. It was a damned good theory, and it impressed the hell out of the grad students, I remember that.” George cleared his throat, obviously used to lecturing to a room full of students. “There’s a phenomenon that’s been observed for years. Corn breeders use it. It’s named ‘hybrid vigor’. You take corn and force it to inbreed for several generations, thereby fertilizing itself over and over. After about ten generations you will get this short, unhealthy plant with stubby cobs and very few kernels. But then, if you take two of those lines, completely inbred but unrelated to each other, and you cross them – vavoom, you get ‘hybrid vigor’. A tall, stately plant with massive cobs and fantastically high yields.
“Why?” Emma asked politely, when no one else did.
“No one has figured it out. But it happens.”
“Perhaps you had better stop now” said Grant, trying to avoid a disturbance, “I don’t think I like where this is going.”
“No, it’s okay,” said Andrew reassuringly. “What George is saying is….if I may George?” Andrew asked, tilting his head towards his friend.
“By all means, continue.”
“Well, I’ve always wondered if that same hybrid vigor didn’t apply to humans. I mean it’s known to happen in cows. When
they cross two inbred lines of dairy cows they can sometimes get increased fertility and milk production in the offspring. I’ve wondered if the same phenomenon would occur in humans. And to tell you the truth… I think it does.”
Grant glared at his brother. “Andrew, are you two calling us inbreds?”
“No, no not … exactly,” George back paddled as fast as he could. “We’re not saying you’re inbred. It’s just that the Nakoans have been a small population for many generations, and the Colliers too, are part of a small local aristocracy. If Andrew is right about hybrid vigor in humans, then you and your wife may have created a super child, stronger, faster, more intelligent than his peers. It’s a compliment really. Don’t you agree?” As he finished, George picked up his fork and pried open another of the tasty clams which he couldn’t seem to get enough of, as evidenced by the growing pile of shells on his plate.
Realizing Grant’s discomfort, Andrew took the conversation on another turn. “Don’t get upset Grant, it’s just an idea I had. Anyway, my ideas were more global. I was thinking you could probably map the rise and fall of empires following the pattern of inbreeding depression and hybrid vigor in humans.”
“You’re kidding Andrew. I never heard this one before.” Kerri leaned across the table and flashed her unmatchable smile.
“Yeah, like the rise and fall of the Roman Empire. When the Italian and the Mediterranean populations started mixing there was probably a little hybrid vigor going on. Thus the rise. The Romans were obviously stronger in body, if not mind. Maybe both,” he shrugged, “giving them the ability to rule the world until a bit of inbreeding occurred amongst the patricians and they produced a few errors …. like Caligula, then Nero. Their society slipped into disarray until they were overrun by the new superior breed, the Mongols.”
“Or what about the British Empire,” George jumped up, and suddenly broke into song amidst snickers and sneers. “Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves...”