Aloha Love

by Yvonne Lehman

  She would like to learn more but wasn’t even sure what to ask him. She started to ask if he missed Scotland, but instead commented, “Apparently you prefer Hawaii.”

  “It’s my home,” he said. “The best parts of my life have been spent here.”

  Looking at his face, she saw the misery appear. As if to shake it off, he seemed to paste a smile on his face, then looked at her hand. “That looks like an engagement ring.”

  “Yes.” She held up her hand.

  “Your fiancé must be very understanding to allow you to come on such a lengthy journey without him.”

  Allow her? Those words took a little thinking. She would need to clear that up. “It was really my dad who I had to ask. He’s the one who pays the bills.”

  “Oh, no,” he said, flustered. “I wasn’t implying—”

  “Oh, I know that. I was just trying to say in a nice way that I did not ask my fiancé if I could come. I simply informed him.” He was looking at her strangely. “I think it’s after people are married that those conventions are followed.”

  “Well, yes, of course. But I was thinking about the long trip. Do you plan to be here very long? I mean,” he said when she gave him a quick glance, “if I’m not being too personal.”

  “It’s not too personal. But I really don’t know. We’ll be here as long as Pansy is alive. And as long as Uncle Russell needs us.”

  “Mmm.” He was now nodding at the ground.

  “But,” she said, lifting her chin, “it wouldn’t surprise me if Austin and my dad popped up at any time. They’ve never let me out of their sight for very long.”

  “I should think not,” he said, and she saw a little color come into his tanned cheeks.

  She wondered why he’d stopped. Just to talk to her? In that case. . . “I don’t suppose I could take a wee little ride on that horse?” She stood and patted its neck. “I miss mine so much.”

  The good mood between them vanished. Mak looked like she’d asked him to pull down a star from the sky and give it to her. “I. . .I’m sorry. I must go. My horses need tending. And there’s my daughter.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t throw up on your horse the day I arrived. And I’m fine today. Maybe a tad dizzy upon occasion.”

  He seemed at a loss for a moment, then gave a short laugh and reached up and patted his pocket. “One can never be sure.”

  She thought he was attempting to jest, but he seemed so uncomfortable that she simply said, “Say hello to your mother and daughter for me.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” he said. “My mother is eager to have you and Miz Matilda, the young lady, and Reverend Russell come to dinner when it’s convenient, considering the circumstances with Miz Pansy.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He plopped the hat on his head and mounted the stallion, which proceeded to kick up the dust along the stretch of path bordered by tall coconut palms.

  When Jane returned to the house, Matilda said, “I saw you and Mak talking.”

  “Yes,” she said and smiled. “He mentioned my ring, and we talked about Austin. So Mak MacCauley has nothing to worry about.” She flashed a glance at Matilda. “To his way of thinking, where I’m concerned, he’s perfectly safe.”

  Matilda draped her arm around Jane’s shoulder and said simply, “Yes, dear.”

  Thirteen

  Mak wished he hadn’t stopped to talk with Jane. He’d simply made a fool of himself. She must take him for a complete idiot. But what could he have done? After she asked to ride the horse, he couldn’t very well tell her to climb up and they’d ride together, like they had the day she had a problem with her land legs. There had been a reason for it that day. Rather than further embarrass his mom and the reverend, and cause more talk than when he’d tried to kill his horse, he’d consented.

  But this was another day. She was an engaged woman. He was an avowed single man, and Jane’s fiancé likely wouldn’t take such an offer from him very kindly. Mak would not have liked for Maylea to climb on a horse with a man she’d just met and trot off. Maybe things were different in Texas.

  And he could not let this young woman get on his horse alone. She still did not know the area. He felt confident he could control Big Brown even under the worst circumstances—that horrible thunderstorm they’d been caught in one time was proof of that, as was the time a wild pig spooked the stallion and Big Brown had reared up unexpectedly.

  But no way could Mak chance any woman getting on his stallion alone and riding off. So, his mother said Jane was an equestrienne. But that was under controlled conditions in a confined area with a trained horse, and one she would be accustomed to. That was the kind of riding a lady would do. . .not hightail it off on a horse weighing more than a thousand pounds.

  She’d been easy to talk to, fun to talk with. He’d had too many women try and attract his attention. This one did not. She just wanted to ride his horse.

  And he could not, would not allow that.

  Perhaps he could show a better side of his character, if there was one, when she came to dinner—if she accepted the invitation.

  The following morning, however, when he was less than a mile away from the school, he heard the church bells. That meant one of three things: Church would soon begin, but this wasn’t Sunday; Something wonderful had happened, such as a ship coming in; Or something sad had occurred. For death, the bells rang three times and stopped. Then they would ring three more times and the process would be repeated over and over.

  The last time the bells had rung for a dreaded occasion was back in April when Father Damien had died. That remarkable priest had given his life to help the lepers in Molokai. Then he died of leprosy. Word was spread later that he had said the Lord wanted him to spend Easter in heaven.

  Father Damien was a remarkable man, willingly sacrificing his young life and health to make seemingly hopeless, outcast human beings a little more comfortable, giving them a glimpse of love and faith.

  Now, Mak saw children being led from the school by an adult. When he rode by the church, the elder said, “It’s Miss Pansy. She’s gone to be with the Lord.”

  Her role in life was nothing like Father Damien’s with the lepers, but it was just as remarkable. Pansy Russell had given her life for the children and adults alike on this Big Island. She’d been known not just as the preacher’s wife or as a teacher, but as a servant of the Lord in her own right.

  As much as he dreaded it, Mak knew he’d have to see Rev. Russell. Jane let him in and said Matilda and the nurse were putting Pansy’s best clothes on her, fixing her hair and face.

  Mak extended his hand to Russell. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

  “I know,” the reverend said. His sad eyes nevertheless were filled with determination. “Now I know how you feel, Mak.” He kept nodding and opened the screen door wider. “Of course there will be no school for the rest of the day.”

  “No,” Mak said, taking a step back. He could not be in the house where a dead woman lay. “I need to let my mother know. She would want that, you know.”

  “Oh yes. I know. Thanks for stopping by. That means a lot.” The reverend’s smile held a mixture of sadness and strength.

  ❧

  Mak hadn’t been inside a church in three years, not since Maylea’s funeral. He only went then because her beautiful body was there in the coffin.

  Yes, he believed the words being spoken. Those believing in Jesus were in heaven, were having a better life. He believed that for Maylea, for his dad, for Father Damien, for Pansy Russell.

  The reverend spoke comforting words to others, even as the tears streaked his face. But he’d had Pansy by his side for more than thirty years as they worked together for the Lord. Mak had had Maylea only six short years. He’d been without her for half that time now.

  No, on second thought, he was never without her.

  And it grieved his heart.

  Feeling a light pressure on his hand, he looked down. Leia’s small han
d lay on his. Her big brown eyes looked up at him. They filled with tears, and her lip trembled. His little girl didn’t remember her mother. But she had known Pansy and had loved her. Mak put his arm around her and drew her near.

  After the funeral, church members had a meal set out in the fellowship hall. His mother and Leia stayed.

  Mak didn’t.

  He thought of the church that used to mean so much to him. It was where he had given his heart to Jesus as a young lad, where he had later given his heart to Maylea and married her, where he laid her to her final rest.

  As foolish as he knew it was, there was no rest for him. He walked out to the graveyard behind the church and down to the stone inscribed MAYLEA MACCAULEY AND KEIKI, where his wife and child were buried.

  Kneeling in the grass, he stared at the stone and the name. He spoke quietly. “Four more months, Maylea. I’ll do it for you. It will help. It has to help.”

  After a long moment, he felt something touch his shoulder. With a slight turn of his head, he saw a hand with a diamond ring on its fourth finger.

  “I’m sorry,” a soft voice said.

  He could only nod.

  After a long moment, the hand was gone. He didn’t turn. A man couldn’t let a woman see him cry.

  Fourteen

  Pansy was buried on Wednesday, and school resumed the following Monday. After Mak’s class, Rev. Russell asked if he could speak with him. They went into the reverend’s office. Mak sat across from him at the desk.

  “If I could, Mak, I’d like to meet with you and Matilda and Jane to discuss what we might do at the school.”

  Mak removed his foot from where he’d crossed it over his other knee. He leaned forward. “Maybe we could do that at my home. Mom has wanted to have all of you to dinner. She thought she should. . .wait.”

  Rev. Russell was already nodding, indicating he understood. “I’ve been waiting, too, Mak. I’ve thought about the school and what to do but didn’t want to discuss it until after Pansy had gone to be with the Lord. I didn’t want to stand in the way in case God wanted to provide a miracle for her.” He made a soft sound, almost like an ironic laugh. “Or for us, I suppose. She is in her miracle now.”

  Mak stared at him a moment, having the distinct feeling the reverend was trying to tell him something. But there was really nothing new he could say. Mak knew the facts of life. And the facts of afterlife.

  The reverend slapped the arms of his leather chair. “Well, Mak, you just tell Rose that we’ll be glad to accept that dinner invitation. Any time.”

  On Friday evening, Mak saw their guests like a silhouette on the horizon. The prancing horse pulled the black surrey against a setting of green grass and clear blue sky.

  What would the Buckleys think of his ranch? How would it compare with a wealthy Texan’s ranch? Or an oil man’s property? He scoffed inwardly, aware that kind of thinking was what turned so many Hawaiians into imitators of western lifestyle many years ago, resulting in their losing much of their own culture.

  He walked away from the huge window in the living room, stepped into the foyer, and saw his mother and Leia coming down the curved staircase along the wall. They had probably been watching from an upstairs window.

  His mother was dressed elegantly in western-style clothes that could compete with the finest—clothes that she didn’t get to wear too often. Leia was trying to keep her lips still instead of smiling, as if she knew how beautiful she looked in her yellow dress trimmed with ruffles and a huge green sash. Her black hair curled naturally but now lay in ringlets and was adorned on one side with a pink, yellow-centered flower.

  “My two beautiful girls,” he said. His mother smiled broadly. She knew she was a handsome woman. Leia laughed delightedly. She made a small curtsy. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  All right. She was already practicing her manners.

  “I’ll go out and greet them, Mother,” he said.

  “Good,” she said. She usually greeted their guests. Depending upon who they were, sometimes the housekeeper invited guests in. Feeling quite well-attired himself, in his western-style suit, Mak wished to give the impression he was not always a grump nor a crybaby. He was the man of this. . .this. . .ranch and this house.

  He went out and stood on the porch as the reverend’s surrey meandered up the long, stone driveway.

  “Aloha, Reverend.” They shook hands.

  Mak held out his hand to the woman who looked as fiery as an evening sunset that lit up the world in bright red. She wore a red satin dress with the cut of the bodice like something the missionaries would have banned a few decades back. Decorating her chest was a strand of rubies set in silver. Her hair was a deeper red and in a high updo of curls and rolls and jeweled combs. She could pass for a Hawaiian landscape at sunset.

  “Aloha and komo mai.”

  “Thank you,” she said, setting her pointy-toed shoes on the ground and moving aside.

  “Miz Buckley,” he said to the next pair of pointy shoes. He lifted his hands and his gaze and was astounded by the contrast between the woman he’d just helped from the surrey and this one.

  “Aloha and komo mai.”

  She lay her gloved hand in his and stepped down. “Aloha and komo mai to you, too.”

  Leia giggled and put her hand over her mouth.

  Jane huffed. “What did I do wrong this time?”

  “I’m sure you know aloha by now,” Mak said. “Komo mai means welcome.”

  She and the others laughed lightly. “Thanks for the lesson. I do want to learn Hawaiian.”

  “I can teach you some words,” Leia said. “And you can teach me some words. I want to learn about that filthy. . .” She looked up at his mother. “What was that?”

  “Never mind, dear.”

  The way the two Miz Buckleys shared a quick glance, Mak thought they probably guessed what kind of conversation Leia might have been privy to.

  “We’ve known each other long enough not to be so formal,” Jane said. He realized he had been thinking of her as Jane all along. “I’m just plain Jane.” She smiled. “By the way, you’re looking mighty fine this evening.”

  He wondered if that should have been his line, but he hadn’t wanted to be overly complimentary to any of them. He felt, along with Shakespeare, that discretion was the better part of valor. And he didn’t have to mistake her remark as flirting, because she was an engaged woman.

  He nodded, smiled, and observed she was anything but plain. She was as refreshingly beautiful as her aunt was fiery beautiful. The high neck, trimmed in a soft ruffle, was light blue and her eyes had turned that same color. Yes, they must be hazel. They’d been gray that first day when she’d thrown up, then green at the Ti leaves, now blue. Little swirls of golden brown hair lay across her forehead and along the sides of her face. The rest of her hair was arranged in a thick roll.

  Until the fiery Buckley woman said, “Just a moment, Pilar. Mr. MacCauley will help you down,” he’d forgotten there was a third person to exit the surrey.

  He quickly held out his hand to the young girl, who looked about ready to jump out and could have done so easily. This, however, was the polite way. She looked pretty in an elegant dress, and her hair was pulled back from her face. As she stepped down, he saw a white bow fastened at the back of her hair.

  He nodded at the stable boy who waited at the side of the house, then heard the women greeting each other and passing around compliments on their clothes and looks. Rev. Russell caught his arm, leaned close, and said, “These beautiful women are our dinner partners. How lucky can a man get?”

  “Indeed,” Mak said and laughed lightly. He walked ahead, held the screen door open, and bowed slightly as he gestured for them to enter.

  In the foyer, they stopped as Matilda commented on the beauty of the white, two-story, frame house and the elegance of the foyer and staircase.

  “Thank you,” his mother said. “I’m sure it doesn’t compare with your plantation home in Texas.” She gave Jane a knowing l
ook. “I’ve seen some of that kind.”

  “Maybe not as big as. . .my daddy’s,” Jane said, placing the emphasis on my daddy’s, implying it wasn’t hers. “But it’s just as beautiful. In Texas, they just have to make everything bigger.”

  She cast a teasing glance at Mak when she said, “Even the stars are bigger.” He could feel his cheeks color slightly, but he smiled. “Before we go in,” she said, “I have something for Leia.”

  Leia stepped up to her, her dark eyes shining and looked expectantly while Jane opened a shiny blue bag and took out a smaller white satin bag drawn closed with a drawstring. “Just put your fingers in the top and pull it apart.”

  While Leia did that, Jane said, “This is my own special lei that I’d like to give you.”

  “Ohhh.” Leia’s little mouth made an O, and Mak knew she was truly pleased with the strand of small pearls.

  “I know it’s not as big or as colorful as the lei you gave me, but this is a lei from Texas. They’re pearls.”

  “Can I wear it?”

  “Here, let me,” Rose said and fastened the string of pearls around Leia’s neck. Leia touched them, looked down, and then held out her arms as she rushed to Jane and threw her arms around her waist.

  “I looove this,” she said, after stepping back. “I never had any pearls before.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Jane said, and then his mother offered to show them through the house.

  Mak tried not to let his thoughts show on his face, but everything reminded him of his loss. Leia’s loss. Leia should have a mother who gave her pearls, who fastened them around her neck. He should have a wife to show guests the house.

  He was beginning to think it was a mistake to have a woman around, even if she did belong to someone else.

  Nevermore pecked at his brain like Edgar Allan Poe’s raven. And although he had his land legs, he felt a stir of accustomed nausea.