Primitive Flame

by Lakes, Lynde

  She lost track of time as she visited doctors and county offices. The Department Of Health had no information beyond what she had already found out at The State Vital Statistics Department on O’ahu. Her birth certificate showed a home birth with no doctor in attendance—parents listed as Kalihi and Kama. Her only hope was to locate longtime residents.

  She tried a bakery that looked like it had been there since the town was built. As she entered the small shop, smells of fresh-baked dough, cinnamon and chocolate wafted around her. She fought a strong temptation to buy something to take back to the hotel to share with Cort and focused on her goal.

  She showed the Japanese shopkeeper the wrappings and asked her about the woman named Pele. The shopkeeper looked frightened and shook her head. “Try the butcher shop,” she said.

  Lani got the same fearful response from the burly butcher.

  With an aching head, she tried fish markets, barbershops, candy shops and bookstores—asking if anyone remembered her mother, showing each shopkeeper the wrappings the necklace had come in. They all responded tersely while eyeing the cloth and twine with fearful looks.

  The head man at the post office studied the wrappings. The corner of his eye twitched. He stayed a safe distance from the hair-like twine and tapa cloth, as though they could harm him.

  He puffed up his considerable bulk, like a porcupine about to throw its quills. “I can’t help you,” he growled. “This was mailed from here, all right, but without a return address.”

  She took off her sunglasses and stared him in the eye. “I don’t think you fully understand.”

  He looked at her as if he’d only then noticed her appearance. His face turned ashen. “I’ve been sick, flu. Haven’t made it to the pit. But Sunday for sure. A big offering this time. Big. Really big.”

  Lani’s knees felt weak. He was promising to make an offering to Kilauea—to Pele. Good Lord, did he think— No, it was too farfetched. “Please, can’t you tell me anything? The packing is so unusual. Was it purchased here?”

  He took off his watch. “Here, you can have this. Take it!”

  She laughed without humor. “I don’t want your watch. I want information.”

  The man’s lower lip quivered. “I don’t know anything.”

  Lani left the watch on the counter and walked out. It wasn’t until she talked to the librarian at the local library that she felt she’d made some headway.

  “Tu Chun is over ninety years old,” the librarian said. “If anyone remembers your mother, it would be him. He’s our oldest resident. But I must warn you, he’s strange.”

  By the reception she’d received so far, Lani felt he wasn’t the only one. “What do you mean ‘strange’?”

  “Although he no longer sells anything to anyone, he opens his store every morning at the same time.”

  “Why?” There had to be a reason.

  The librarian shrugged. “Eccentric, I guess. He sweeps the dirt in front, puts up his open sign and then sits behind his counter and reads the newspaper from front to back. Then, he sits on the porch and watches everyone come and go, just as he’s done for the past sixty years.”

  Lani jotted a few notes, then headed for Tu Chun’s Herbal Store. Anxious and hopeful, she approached the old wooden building. The windows needed a good scrubbing. The doorway had visibly settled. Cobwebs hung from the lopsided corners. As she entered, a bell tinkled. Even though warm outside, there was a tomblike dampness inside. A slice of sunshine pierced through a tear in a curtain into the dim gloom. Dust particles swirled in the slash of light. Dirty, torn, pull-down shades hid the windows. She coughed as she inhaled the mingled odors of dust, herbs, medicines, and incense. Her gaze scanned a wealth of Chinese antiques and shelf upon shelf of clear jars of colorful liquids and capsules. In the back somewhere a board creaked. An icy shiver slid down her spine. “Hello. Is anyone here?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lani heard another board creak, then footsteps. Dusty brown curtains leading to a back room parted. A wrinkled Chinese gentleman with a mouse-tail mustache shuffled toward her. He wore loose-fitting black pajamas with an embroidered dragon on the tunic. It had to be Tu Chun: he fit the librarian’s description.

  A nearly toothless grin spread across his face. “Ah, lady, you come buy medicine. I fix good.” He bowed deeply.

  Lani glanced at the dust, the cobwebs. The librarian had told her no one ever bought anything anymore, and here Lani was, another person letting him down. “So sorry.” She paused and met his gaze, letting her sincerity sink in before rushing on. “I’m trying to find someone and was told you’ve lived in Hilo all your life and might be able to help me.”

  His smile faded. “Police find missing people. I sell medicine.”

  “Please. It’s a matter of life and death, and you’re my last hope.”

  He stroked his mustache. “Who you want find?”

  “Twenty-six years ago a pregnant woman who looked like me lived near here. Do you remember her?”

  Squinting, Tu Chun studied Lani’s features. His face paled, and he backed away. “Go. No want you here.” His hand shook as he pointed to the door. “Go. Go.”

  He grabbed a broom leaning against a wall and brandished it at Lani, his waist-length braid swishing across his back.

  She stepped backward toward the door. Then stopped.

  The old man’s body trembled as he held her at bay with the broom. “Out! Out!” he shrieked.

  Tears of frustration flooded Lani’s eyes. One escaped and rolled down her cheek.

  Tu Chun froze, then cocked his head sideways. Still holding the broom in one hand like a saber, he moved closer. Lani’s pulse raced. The old man’s labored breathing had a frightening quality. He reached out and touched her face. She forced herself not to cringe.

  His touch was like sandpaper as he scooped up her tear with his finger and put it to his withered lips. “Salty. You human.”

  “Yes, of course.” Hope surged through her. “I’m Lani Ward.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why you look like Pele?”

  “I’m not sure.” After the way he’d reacted to the resemblance she hated to press her luck, but she didn’t know any other way. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” She held out the tapa cloth and the twine that resembled coarse gray hair.

  He shuddered. “Take out of my store!”

  “Why? What does it mean?”

  The old man made small lunges at her, without really getting any closer. “Out. Out.”

  “Please, my life is falling apart. I don’t know who I am or where I came from.” Thinking of Cort, her voice broke. “And someone I care about is in grave danger.”

  Tu Chun glared at her as if unmoved by her plea.

  Lani bent and quickly placed the wrappings on the porch. “Look, I’m putting everything outside the door.” Suspecting the lava stone necklace would terrify him even more, she tucked it beneath the neckline of her blouse.

  When she returned, Tu Chun raised the broom again. “No come closer.”

  Overriding her fear of being struck, Lani stepped forward and gently touched his arm. “No one else can help. You have to tell me what you know.”

  His face lost some of its wrath, but fear still glinted in his eyes as he darted looks at the door. “Tapa cloth, maile vines, and twine of Pele’s hair mark you. Powerful mana.”

  Lani fingered the lava stone beneath her neckline with trembling fingers. Was it a charm to protect, or an evil object to hex and control? As always, the stone was warm and reassuring. “When did you last see the woman who looks like me?”

  Tu Chun pulled on his mustache and shrugged. “Five, six month? When I still able go to shore, I see her there, where lava pour in sea. She come in darkness. Her eyes spark. Fire blow from hair.”

  Lani dug her fingernails into her palms. “You’re telling me about Pele. What about the pregnant woman who looked like her? My mother?”

  “They not same?” He pointed to a chair and pulled one
up for himself. As Tu Chun talked story a gleam came into his eyes and importance deepened his voice. “Locals say many years past Pele pick handsome young man to father girl child. Man from strong Hawaiian blood with body of warrior.”

  Lani’s breath caught. He could be describing Pono. Lei and grandfather had talked about how handsome Pono had been in his youth, how all the island girls had chased him.

  “Pele’s beauty tempt many men. No can resist her spell. Goddess beguile man-boy. They make love so hot, it boil water and burn leaves on closeby trees.” Tu Chun paused for effect. “Nine month later, Pele bear baby and give to good home. No fire when Pele happy.”

  Hairs prickled on the back of Lani’s neck. His tale matched Grandfather’s story of her birth too closely for comfort. Could Pele have such strong feelings for her? Lani’s mind swirled. Dear God, she’d bought into all this.

  “Before child’s fifth year, haole couple took her away.” Tu Chun whispered now. “Goddess angry, stir volcano fire, earth quake. Some die.”

  For over an hour, with goose bumps rising on her arms, Lani listened, fascinated. When he began to repeat himself, she said, “Thank you for helping me. I must leave now to make Pele’s favored shoreline before dark.”

  As she rushed out the door, he called, “Many fall to death on Pele’s cliffs.”

  With the old man’s warning churning in her head, Lani stumbled into a nearby phone booth. She couldn’t back out now. Her hands trembled as she punched in the hotel’s number. Would she find Pele by the sea? She wanted Cort to go with her, and her heart sank when he didn’t answer the phone in the room. He’d left a voice message for her: Stay put. I’ll be back.

  Drat, there wasn’t time to wait. The day was slipping away. She left him a message: Driving to Kilauea, where the lava flows into the sea. Don’t worry, and expect me when you see me. Love, Lani.

  ****

  Where the hell was Lani? Cort had looked everywhere in the whole damned community. Everyone remembered seeing her. Who could forget a beautiful woman with hair resembling dancing flames? A wrinkled Chinese pharmacist with agitated eyes said she’d gone to a shoreline near Kilauea. He mumbled about Pele in an indecipherable tangle of Chinese and stilted English. His reference to Pele made Cort’s heart beat faster. Don’t get all worked up, he told himself. The old guy had to be a little off the beam. Even the librarian called him eccentric. Lani would never go near Kilauea alone. She must’ve gone back to the hotel.

  All the way back to the resort Cort wavered between worry and anger at himself for letting a crazy old man get him all upset over nothing. Still, he shouldn’t have let her go alone. What had he been thinking? Tomorrow he was buying her a cell phone. “Everything’s fine,” he repeated in a mantra.

  As Cort rushed into the hotel room, memories of their morning lovemaking flashed in his mind—his hand connecting with the smooth silk of her body, the wetness. Heat rushed to his groin. “Lani,” he called. “Lani.”

  His gaze fell on the message light. His throat felt dry. It had to be word from Lani. He played the message and stiffened. Holy Christ, she’d gone to Kilauea alone! Why couldn’t she wait like he’d asked? Her impulsive nature would be the death of him. Cort banged down the receiver and then lifted it again to call for a taxi.

  When the cab arrived and Cort explained where he needed to go, the driver shook his head. It took an offer of double the fare to get the man to take him. “Another twenty if you jam the pedal to the metal,” Cort said, “and I’ll pay the fine if we get a speeding ticket.”

  “Fasten your seatbelt, brah,” the driver said.

  Cort snapped the buckle closed as the car jolted forward. He braced himself, wondering what he’d find when he got to the lava flow. Meeting Lani had been the most frustrating and thoroughly exciting time of his life. He’d been crazy with worry most of the time, hot for her the rest of the time, and falling more in love every second he was with her. Damn her willfulness! What if she sees images, or does something crazy again like dancing naked? Or worse?

  Cort figured they’d gone about twenty-five miles before the driver screeched to a halt at a road-closed sign. “Sure you like go here?” the driver asked. “Not safe. Pele, she full of tricks.”

  Cort spied Lani’s rental car near a huge boulder. “I’m meeting someone.”

  He thrust a wad of cash into the driver’s hand and jumped out of the taxi and broke into a jog.

  ****

  Lani hurried along the lava path, desperation driving her forward. She’d envisioned driving directly to the spot. At least her jumpsuit and walking shoes were practical for the hike from the road. Did she really expect to see Pele strolling along the beach? Strangely, she did.

  The setting sun painted the sky burnt-orange above the magnitude of mighty Kilauea. Lani felt small and vulnerable. At the top of the rise, her breath caught. She’d never seen anything more awesome. In the distance, probably several miles, hot streams of fire bubbled toward the sea. The red-orange molten mass moved with an unstoppable force, rumbling and making the earth tremble, leaving devastation in its path. The air was thick with the rotten-egg smell of sulfur.

  Lani eased to the edge of the cliff. Below, and further to the left, the water swirled and boiled, as lava flowed continuously into the sea, spewing steam and towering red-gold fountains of liquid high into the air. Steam formed vaporous mists that reached upward from the deep, like beckoning claws.

  Rubbing her arms to quiet the trembling, she studied the steep path leading to the barren beach at the bottom of the jagged rocks. This had to be it—the place Tu Chun had told her about—the beach where Pele walked. Lani frowned. But how would she get down there?

  Surely Tu Chun couldn’t have climbed down from here, but Lani couldn’t see an easier way.

  Testing for secure ground before each step, she began her treacherous descent. Loose rocks tumbled from the path and over the scarred precipice. The scarf around her neck fluttered against her face. Wind whipped her hair. Wisps caught in her lips, blew into her eyes. She brushed them away. After hiking down about ten feet, Lani heard the sound of crunching rocks above her. She looked up.

  “Lani, stop!”

  Her pulse raced. “Cort!” Her foot slipped, but she recovered her balance.

  “Wait,” he shouted. “You’re going to fall.” Sweat dripped from his face. “I’m coming down.” He descended, slipping and sliding, loosening rocks.

  “Be careful,” she called.

  The ground under his feet crumbled.

  “Cort!” She watched helplessly as he toppled downward.

  He clutched at a narrow ledge. Slowly, his fingers slipped off. Then he was tumbling down the incline, arms flailing as he futilely grabbed at large boulders and bushes. Lani heard a thud at the same time she saw his head crash against a protruding rock. Cort touched the back of his head. When he brought his hand forward it was smeared with blood.

  She covered her mouth in horror. Oh, God. No! Tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away. “Cort, don’t move. I’m coming down.”

  “No!” He grimaced, then briefly closed his eyes. “Stay up there. The path’s unsafe.” The dazed voice didn’t sound like him.

  He shook his head and struggled to his knees. He swayed forward and crumbled to the ground. His arms dangled dangerously over the edge of the cliff.

  “Cort!” Her scream rushed away on the wind, fading into the ocean.

  The back of Cort’s blond hair was matting with blood. His body looked like a lifeless lump of denim and cotton. He lay about fifteen feet below. She could take the path almost to where he’d fallen. But how would she get to the ledge?

  She looked down at the beach below and saw an at least a sixty-foot drop to certain death. She had to get to Cort quickly, but to get there at all meant examining the ground before each step. One slip and there would be no one to help him. Or her.

  Lani came to the end of the path. She faced the rock surface of the cliff and proceeded sideways, inching her wa
y, evaluating each toehold for firmness before shifting weight. Sharp lava rocks cut her hands.

  The ledge loomed just ahead. She rested a moment, gasping for breath. Did Cort move, or was it just the wind whipping the back of his shirt? “Cort, don’t move! Don’t move!”

  She blinked away a new rush of tears. The setting sun slipped behind Kilauea. The wind, stronger now, battered Lani’s body and tore at her clothes. Her turquoise scarf thrashed about her face. Shadows turned the jagged rocks below into black spears of death. Don’t look down. She eased her foot to the next toehold and tested it. It held. Only a few more feet.

  Praying, Lani leaped to the ledge where Cort lay unconscious. She bent over him and with firm sure fingertips touched his neck, seeking a pulse. Thank God for its steady, warm throb. Lani tugged and pulled him away from the edge. She had to stop the bleeding. She looked down at her thick socks. They could absorb the blood. She removed them, turned them inside out, and dabbed at the wound, cleaning away blood and particles of rock and sand. She pressed the sock firmly in place and secured the makeshift bandage with her scarf. Cort moaned when she turned him over. She eased his head onto her lap.

  “It’s all right, Cort.” Lani bent and brushed his lips with hers. “I’m here with you.”

  His eyes opened, and the green seemed duller in the dwindling glow of sunset and the intensity she’d always found there was missing. But he was going to be all right—he had to be.

  Cort tried to lift his head. “Ohhh,” he moaned. “What happened? My skull feels like a steel girder fell on it.”

  “You hit your head on a rock.”

  He made another attempt to get up.

  “Don’t move. There isn’t much room on this ledge.”

  “Ledge? Oh, yeah.” He mumbled something about impulsive craziness. “What the hell are you doing down here?” He struggled to sit up. “Why didn’t you go for help?”

  “You would’ve bled to death before I got back.” If he weren’t hurt, she’d tell him where he could go.