by E. Coulombe
“Yes, it is, Emma. It’s damn true and you know it. If I had a woman like you, I think I’d give up science altogether. Hell, I wouldn’t go chasing some dream. I’d even forego digging up ancient bones in South America,” he laughed.
“Oh yeah, sure you would George.”
“I would. You doubt me?” George mocked. “Anyway,” he got a grip on himself, “that’s how I feel, and I think I’ll let that buffoon know it. Much as I love that man, dammit, Emma, he doesn’t treat you right. Not in the way you deserve.”
George sat down next to her and pressed his hands into her knees. He was surprised when she didn’t move away. He looked into her eyes, “Emma, let me help you. Please.”
“I’m fine George.... but in truth, I am glad you’re here. It means a lot to me.”
George jumped up when Andrew entered the room. Flustered for a moment, he quickly recovered.
“Did you find the phone?”
“No,” Andrew said, seeming puzzled.
“Listen Andrew, I need to talk with you. There’s something going on here. I tried to talk to Grant about it earlier, to tell him we needed to get some of the UH guys over here to take a look, or notify the Coast Guard, the Navy, somebody….but he wouldn’t even listen to me. He just walked away. You’re brothers paranoia is going to get us all…”
“Grant isn’t paranoid.” Andrew cut him off. “Don’t say that.”
George had crossed the line, and he wasn’t going back. “He most definitely is. He’s afraid of everything. Look at the way he rules this island Andrew, and the way he’s cut it off from the outside. That smacks of paranoia. But what really has me most baffled, is your behavior Andrew.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah. Why do you defend him? And deny everything that’s happening here.”
Andrew paced across the room and at first George thought he would leave, dodge the question as he did the hard ones now. But instead Andrew stopped near the door.
“Listen George. You’re new on this scene. There’s a whole history here that you don’t have any inkling of.” Andrew’s face strained. He repressed the strong force welling from within. “Grant has always been there for me, always. At boarding school on the mainland, I would have been a victim of more than taunts were it not for the fear of Grant’s fists, which he used, perhaps too freely, but he saved my skinny little ass more than once.” He paused and looked at Emma. “And he was there for me again when Emma was planning to leave, take Michael and go live with her parents. I asked Grant if I could bring them here and try to save my family, and he didn’t hesitate. Told me I didn’t have to ask.”
“All right, all right, whatever, Andrew,” George backed down. “But listen, this thing that the little girl caught at Lehua today….you know what that sounds like, don’t you? A damned trilobite. We need to get in touch with Kaneshiro immediately and find out what that thing was we shipped over.”
“We never should have sent it,” Andrew answered tersely.
“Why the hell not?”
“It’s dangerous, for one thing. We don’t know what it was. If your friend doesn’t handle it properly, he could contaminate the waters of Oahu with….” Andrew stopped.
“With what? Contaminate the waters with what?”
“I don’t know. It’s just premature to be shipping organisms to strangers.”
“Strangers! Dr. Kaneshiro is the world’s leading expert in marine biology. I can assure you he is well respected by his peers, even if you never heard of him.”
“That doesn’t reassure me George. Nothing at UH reassures me right now.”
“Jeez, Andrew, now you’re starting to sound paranoid. No matter how you call it, what we definitely need right now is some outside help. I’m out of my league, and honestly, it feels downright dangerous—this sudden array of prehistoric creatures showing up, these mauling incidents in the water. What we don’t need is to be completely cut off.”
“Wrong again George.” Andrew mumbled as he turned to talk with Emma. “To be completely cutoff--that is what we most assuredly need right now.”
Chapter Forty
Andrew loved his wife – George knew it, they all knew it. Not that it was obvious. It was, well—exactly how did they know it, George wondered? And how could one not love Emma? She was such a beautiful woman, caring, giving. She was so in love with her husband. That was obvious. The way her body straightened when Andrew entered the room; the way her whole countenance lit up. Did Andrew even see it?
Andrew certainly barely noticed back at Harvard. There he had been all business, more and more obsessed with his work, a man driven. But driven by what? George had seen men driven by money, trying to succeed for fear of losing their home and living on the street. But money never was Andrew’s problem; he had plenty of financial security. He also had professional security, having achieved tenure years earlier. He’d already written well over fifty peer reviewed articles, and was well respected in the field of molecular genetics.
George couldn’t imagine what drove Andrew--was there something in his past? What would drive a man to risk losing everything he loved--to risk losing a woman like Emma?
Andrew almost did lose Emma once, and George had been there ready to catch her if she fell. But Andrew didn’t know that. He had been too absorbed in his work.
And what about all the other women? Was Andrew so distracted by those younger, beautiful women like Kerri – his fresh, lovely grad students, those in awe of his overpowering intellect--that Emma got lost in the shuffle? Did Andrew find so much satisfaction in the way his young protégés worshipped him that he had little use for Emma’s mature love?
And worship him, the young girls did. He floored them with his brilliance—with his arsenal of stored facts and details, with his ability to make connections between ideas, with his capacity to instantly diminish the meandering arguments of others. George had seen it many times. When Andrew spoke, other conversations stopped. What he said was well thought out on many levels, incorporating more facts than a normal mind could hold, and bringing those facts together to make an unarguable argument. He always won.
And it wasn’t only women who held Andrew in awe--the men did, too--but it was especially the women. Yes, especially the women.
It seemed to George that Andrew had become increasingly less communicative over time, and now, here in Nakoa, things had become unbearable. After their unresolved encounter in the living room, George definitely was not on Andrew’s confidant list anymore. But Kerri was. And that, more than anything else, George couldn’t fathom. Why would he choose to confide in this little known researcher whom he had just met, while shunning George, a renowned paleontologist and a friend whom he had known for twenty years?
Something definitely was wrong with Andrew, George concluded. True—Andrew had been making mistakes for years, but now he seemed to have gone one step beyond. There were strange goings-on on Nakoa, and no matter what the so called Nakoan policy regarding outside interference – for safety’s sake alone, they needed outside help.
He had no way of knowing if his sample reached Dr. Kaneshiro. Had it lived? Had Dr. Kaneshiro identified it? To date, he had a sand casting of what looked like an Ediacaran, a report of an unknown lobster-like thing that attacked Lono in the cave, some type of unidentified organism found at Ko`olau, Kane’s death, and a little girl’s story of a horseshoe crab that sounded suspiciously like a trilobite. It was enough to warrant an investigation under normal circumstances, but without Grant’s cooperation, he needed to collect actual samples, incontrovertible evidence that would force a court order sanctioning an official investigation.
He decided to go to Ko`olau Kai--the obvious place to start. To his chagrin, he had to ask Grant, who, like a despot who ruled the island, gave him permission to camp.
Lono volunteered to go with him. In spite of the fact that he needed Lono’s help, George earnestly tried to dissuade him. Diving at Ko`olau Kai could be dangerous, and George didn’t want him to tak
e the risk, but Lono was adamant. And if Lono was going, of course that meant Michael as well. In all honesty, George was glad to have them both. Grant had given permission for them to use the outboard, provided Kalani would carry them over, drop them off, and return with the boat. Andrew and Kerri had decided to stay back this time and continue working on their experiment, whatever the hell it was. It was Emma he was most reluctant to leave, and again he told her so, but, this time she didn’t let her guard down.
“It’s Michael you should worry about,” she said tersely, as she walked with George down to the boathouse. “I’ve tried to stop him, to convince him not to go. But he won’t listen. The only thing I can do is forbid it, and I learned long ago that’s not the best way to deal with Michael. Promise me you’ll watch over him, George. I don’t think he should be out in the water.”
“I know, Emma, and believe me if I could stop him, for your sake, I would. But I can’t. I tried to deter Lono, but he insists on going with me, and honestly, I’m not sure I could do this without him. Now that those two are as thick as thieves, Lono won’t go without Michael, or maybe it’s the other way around. Together they’ll be alright. They won’t need to go far from shore. I promise, I’ll do my best to keep a tight rein over both of them.”
“I know you’ll try,” Emma sighed, “but nobody controls Lono. And now, it seems, nobody controls Michael except for Lono.”
“They’ve got spears, shark knives, and look,” he picked up a long metal object, “we even have an underwater electric prod that Grant dug up from somewhere.”
“What’s that, Lono?” she asked when she saw Lono packing an oversized flashlight.
“Just a dive light.”
“For what?”
“Night diving.”
Emma grabbed Michael’s arm. “I won’t allow this! That’s it! Michael!”
“Mom!” Michael screwed up his face, obviously embarrassed in front of Lono.
“It’s too dangerous. Even in safe waters, which these are not, this would be a risky venture. Diving in the dark? Neither of you should even be thinking of such a thing. I’m going to tell Nani.”
“No! Wait mom, please. I’ll be alright, really. What do you think I am, stupid?”
“The water scares you, Emma,” Lono said softly, “like something unknown. You see it as a force meant to hurt you, but it’s not that way for me. For me it’s like freedom. I dive down and pull up a rock. I get excited, my heart pumps and the adrenaline flows -- but I’m not afraid. I’m thrilled. What will I find? Will it be the biggest lobster I have ever seen? Will a calamari come shooting out? Can I move my hand fast enough to grab it? Can I move my spear round fast enough, release in time and aim just right to shoot it? Around the next coral head, maybe there’ll be a school of panini picking at the seaweed-covered rocks? I dive in to break them up, watch them scatter just for the sheer beauty of it. Or will I see an old turtle paddling his boat slowly across waters? I grab on, catch a ride--he has strength you never expected.”
“Or will it be a shark?” Lono’s voice deepened. “Now…I see your eyes light up, your fear is strong, I smell it on you. And so does he. That’s not a good thing. But what do you fear? Death? Why? He is large, but so are you? He is fast, but you can swim fast, too. He has teeth, you have a spear. And with your spear you can kill him without getting near, but he cannot do the same. He has to come close to the knife in your other hand if he wants to take a bite. You have the advantage. Who should be afraid?”
The way Lono looked at the ground when he paused signaled to Emma that he was not finished. She waited, and after a deep breath he went on. “You see, Emma, it’s the unknown that scares you. I have lived in this water since before I could walk, and I have fought the tiger shark and I am not afraid. Excited, yes. Cautious, yes. Always looking for the great predator of the sea, but I have fought him and I have won. And now, he too, is afraid of me.”
Lono stood in front of her and finished wrapping his spear. He’d braided his long black hair on the back of his head, the tip of his pony-tail drooped across his thick, brown shoulders as he bent down and picked up his dry bag. Wrapping his knife inside its sheath and leg strapping, he packed it alongside his fins, mask and snorkel, all with practiced motions. His gestures exuded confidence. He picked up the wet suit. Holding it in front of Emma, he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. The wet suit was for Michael, and she knew what he was asking. She couldn’t answer.
“Emma,” Lono softly said. “I can take care of myself, and I’m going out there no matter what, and if I need to I’ll do a night dive. I’m going to do whatever it takes to find out what’s happening to our fishing grounds.” His jaw clenched, and for a moment she could see the ancient warrior standing before her. She had no right to stop him. “It’s up to you whether or not Michael goes, but I do swear to you, I’ll do everything I can to protect him.”
Lono’s wisdom belied his tender age, she thought. She looked at Michael.
“He’s not like you Lono, he really is just sixteen. He hasn’t had the life experiences that you have.” Her honesty surprised them all, and Michael’s face reddened.
Emma’s countenance brightened as a new idea occurred to her. “Maybe I should come with you. I’m sure I’d feel better there than here.”
“Great,” said George immediately. “Excellent idea.”
“But we’ve loaded the whaler, there’s no more room,” Lono interjected.
“We’ll get have to get another,” George said confidently. “I’ll ask Kimo to bring me out in the two man canoe.”
“No way,” Michael said, surprising them all. “You can ride with George. I want to paddle the canoe.”
At that moment, Andrew entered the boat yard. “No way,” he said, playfully mimicking Michael. He laughed, but immediately added, “Seriously, Emma, I don’t’ think that’s such a good idea.”
“Why not?” George snapped.
“I just don’t think she should go,” Andrew looked directly into George’s eyes. “That’s all.”
Emma blushed. “Actually George, it’s probably not a good idea. I’ve too much going on here, and I’m sure Michael and Lono will be just fine. Maybe I’m being silly worrying so much.”
“Well…somebody is being silly Emma, but I’m not so sure it’s you.” George whispered under his breath while stepping down into the boat.
Chapter Forty One
A bright sunny day, with light trade winds, made for a much smoother passage than they’d experienced on the first trip. George leaned his head back on his pack, propped his feet up on the cooler, and slept for most of the ride. When they arrived at Ko`olau Kai the waves had lessened considerably and Kalani was able to beach the whaler on shore. George and the boys hauled their gear up to the vegetation line and George pitched his one man tent near the berm, but was pleased to see Lono and Michael suspending Lono’s tarp in the a`ali`i trees in case of another downpour.
It’s odd, George thought, the communion that those two share. A young Hawaiian who knows everything about this island and next to nothing about the outside world, and a teenager from Cambridge, Massachusetts, who knew nothing about the Pacific world until recently, and was now immersed in it. Teenagers, George laughed, it’s all about their friends, as they quickly learn to ignore their parents.
George liked Michael. He admired the kid for growing up in the shadow of his father. For not becoming bitter and sour now that he had reached the age of sixteen. He had an inner strength that kept him going, even though he knew that he could never measure up to his father’s accomplishments and worse, that he was a failure in his father’s eyes. For in George’s estimation that was how Andrew saw Michael, a nice kid but the brilliance had not been passed down.
Andrew had told George that his parents didn’t allow him and Grant to play with other children, except for Moki, when they were growing up in Hawaii. And that when he was sent to boarding school he couldn’t make new friends, and while the other boys bonded with bun
kmates, or classmates, becoming study partners and cafeteria buddies, Andrew was alone in the library studying, reading and writing innumerable papers. Nothing like Michael, Andrew had said. Extroverted Michael needed to be with others, playing Frisbee if nothing else, was never alone, and seldom reading. George surmised that to be a great disappointment to Andrew.
They finished setting up the camp and Lono pointed to the top of the cathedral shaped valley. Ko`olau was bowl shaped, surrounded on three sides by thousand-foot high cliffs, and although the cliffs provided shade for most of the day, camping underneath them was not safe, he explained to Michael. Too many falling rocks, and anything which fell from that height, even a small stone, would kill a man instantly. He’d seen it happen to a goat when he’d hunted here before.
“The rest of the herd scrambled up the cliff face,” Lono said, “and it’s amazing the way they can climb these sheer cliffs. I couldn’t follow, but neither could the youngest goat, he bleated and cried for its mother while the rest of the herd practically climbed straight up. They loosened the rocks and dirt, and one small stone hit the kid on the head and killed it instantly.” He smiled. “Well, at least it saved me a bullet.”
George unrolled a canvas table and set it up in front of his tent. “All right, what’re you guys laughing at?”
“Well George, are we having a picnic lunch? Perhaps a grande buffet in paradeze,” said Michael.
“No, this isn’t for a picnic,” George retorted. “Obviously, you haven’t been on many digs before? A table is essential. How can you know what you’ve found if you don’t have any place to examine it?”
“Oh, of course” Michael laughed, slapping the side of his head, “it’s an examining table. And here we thought it was the breakfast bench, you know the place where the natives would spread out the meal for the haole boss on safari.”
George screwed another leg into the portable table, and reached for the fourth. “You’re right,” he said, looking at both of them, “and you remember how in those old movies of Africa, the natives did all the work–- set up camp, hunted the food, cooked the dinner, hell they practically pointed the gun for Bwana, and the viewer saw the idiocy of the white man and knew the man would be dead without the guides,” George paused. “But, back then Bwana couldn’t acknowledge native superiority.”