Fire Prayer

by Deborah Turrell Atkinson

When the two walked into the narthex of the small, airy church, Storm got a whiff of the smell from her dream. It disappeared as quickly as it came, almost like a subconscious message, or memory.

  A few people stood around, some of them softly talking, most quiet. Most were making their way to the pews. No one seemed to notice her, though one or two nodded a greeting to Delia.

  Delia took her arm. “The two back pews are already filled. Looks like others have the same plan.” She looked around, then pointed. “There’s room on the left there.”

  Storm saw Detective Niwa and his wife and a number of people from the ranch. Poele sat in a corner near the front, his swollen eyes straight ahead. Makani sat beside him, and Storm saw his shoulders tremble. She had a sense of déjà vu, which haunted her. Poele always had an aura of discontent, but she’d never seen Makani cry. Had she?

  She tried to listen to the minister, who did his best to make some sense of Dusty’s death. He alluded to the devastating loss of Dusty’s daughter and grandson, then emphasized Dusty’s devotion to his family and his commitment to his friends.

  Except for allowing the police to think one of those friends committed murder, Storm thought. When Poele stumbled up to join Makani, Skelly, Connor, and two other men as a pall bearer, Storm gave him a lot of credit. He looked as if he didn’t have the energy to walk, and she felt a lot the same way. She couldn’t have done it if she’d been in Poele’s shoes. Skelly looked a wreck, and Connor appeared sadder, calmer, and thinner.

  Storm and Delia left the church with the rest of the guests. They held each other’s arms like they were ninety-year-old grannies, but they looked in better shape than the young woman who leaned into her husband, sobbing as if she couldn’t go on.

  It was obvious neither she nor her husband lived on Moloka‘i. He was pale and stood out in a dark business suit. The rest of the men wore aloha shirts and slacks. The weeping woman’s simple, long-sleeved black dress was also a contrast to local dress.

  Storm tried not to stare at the man in the suit. He looked familiar. It was hard to see the woman, because she wiped tears from under large, dark glasses. Two young children stood by, pained by their mother’s torment.

  Detective Niwa walked up to Storm and Delia. A pretty, dark-haired woman held his hand protectively. “Storm, I don’t think you’ve met my wife. This is Caroline.”

  Storm held out her hand, but Caroline reached out with both arms and drew her into a gentle hug. “Thank you again for helping David.” She gave Storm a rueful smile. “Sorry I was a little grumpy on the phone.”

  “I understand,” Storm said.

  Niwa looked shell-shocked. “I still can’t get a grip on this. I grew up with Dusty. We played football together in high school.”

  “What was he like?” asked Delia.

  “A ladies’ man.” A smile shone through the sadness in Niwa’s eyes. “Had more girlfriends than the rest of us put together.”

  He sighed and turned toward the parking lot. “We better go. Got to do something before the next one.”

  He split off. Storm and Delia made their way to the old Toyota.

  “The next one.” Storm sounded woeful. “Poor Luke.”

  “Yeah. We’d better get going, too. It’s a long drive.”

  “It’s appropriate, though. Tanner would like it,” Storm said, though she dreaded the drive.

  The last trip to and from Halawa was still fresh in her mind. She’d been in a haze of pain and shock. She’d been dimly aware that Tanner and Luke were in the ambulance in front of hers, and she and Aunt Maile found out after their arrival at Moloka‘i Hospital that Tanner died en route. He’d stepped in front of a bullet meant for Luke and it had ripped through a major artery. Despite the valiant efforts of the emergency techs, he’d bled to death.

  To Storm’s surprise, the drive was filled with simple pleasures that helped lift her low spirits. Sunlight danced across azure waters. Palm fronds murmured their blessings and the beaches radiated warmth. Delia told funny stories about the hospital and the people she met there.

  Parked cars lined the road, more than a quarter mile from the end. Delia looked down at Storm’s sandals. “Those are pretty. But can you walk in them?”

  Storm left them in the car. She could walk in them, but the heels would sink in the sand. And she liked the feel of sand on her feet.

  Bob Crowder and the Richards brothers had set up a bank of tables that were filling up with food. Piles of kalua pork, lau lau, lomi salmon, poi, salted and fresh fish, poke, and more desserts than one would find in the average bakery. A group of local musicians had used the boat house’s generator to set up microphones and amplifiers and were strumming ukulele and guitars.

  When the two women got down to the water, an outrigger canoe approached the beach. The mainland people in the dark clothes were in the canoe with Luke, Poele, Makani, and the couple’s son. The local guys hopped out to pull the canoe onto some old tires on the sand, then helped the couple out of the boat.

  When they got out, Storm saw that even the mainlanders were barefoot. They weren’t unfamiliar with local custom. A Hawaiian would never wear shoes in an outrigger canoe. The man, who tenderly held his wife’s arm, led her to chairs set up near the buffet table. Luke and the boy followed, while the boy’s sister ran to greet them.

  It was then that Storm knew where she’d seen the man in the dark suit. He and the woman were in her dream. That’s where she’d seen Makani cry and Poele numb with sorrow. The dream had mixed up bits and pieces, but they were all there. Like a puzzle, they began to fit together into a picture.

  Storm walked over to the couple. The woman had removed her dark glasses. Her eyes were red and swollen, but so were a lot of people’s. She smiled and put out her hand. Storm was struck by her large, hazel eyes. Sad eyes, older than the smooth skin of her face. They were Dusty’s eyes.

  “I’m Tia Davidson. This is my husband, Michael.”

  “I’m Storm Kayama. I went to school with Tanner.”

  “You know who I am, don’t you?” Her voice trembled a little, and her husband put his arm around her.

  “You don’t have to go into that, dear.”

  Tia turned to him. “Yes, I do. Michael, could you take Tommy and Jesse to get some punch? I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

  Tia struggled for a moment with emotions that threatened to overcome her. “I could have prevented all this.” Her shaking hand swept toward Luke and her son.

  “Not necessarily,” Storm said. “It must have been awful for you. How could you have known?”

  “Luke found the postcard I sent Jenny. He wrote and told me the whole story.” Tia looked away, out to the ocean. Her eyes were filled with self-reproach. “I was self-centered, angry, and young. And I held onto my anger for way too long. If I’d confronted him earlier, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Who knows? Me, I always speak up at the wrong times.” The pain on Tia’s face touched Storm. “Women are taught to placate, and when a situation gets out of control, we feel responsible. But you can’t control another person’s actions.”

  Tia dug one foot into the sand and blinked rapidly. Storm ached for the woman’s pain.

  At that moment, Luke rushed up and threw his arms around Storm. He was thinner, if that was possible, but he looked happy at that moment. David and Caroline Niwa and their daughter followed close behind. Niwa and Haley were drinking a lurid pink liquid in paper cups, which Storm guessed might be fruit punch. Caroline carried two glasses of white wine. She handed one to Storm.

  “They told me you were hurt when you fell off the horse.” Luke eyed the sling.

  “I’ll be as good as new in a couple more weeks.” She grinned at him. “I’m really glad to see you.”

  Tia gave Storm a brave smile, blew a little kiss, and went off to find her husband and children. She dragged her toes through the sand as if she relished the feel of sand between them. Like a local girl.


  The Niwas watched Luke carefully, but Haley gave him a hard punch on the arm. “Want to go toss?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, Luke,” Storm said. “If you ever want to visit O‘ahu, you’ve got a place to stay.”

  He gave Storm a solemn nod and went after Haley.

  Storm watched him run off. When he was out of earshot, she asked, “Did Makani really start the fire?”

  Niwa shook his head. “There have been some interesting developments since you left. A few days after the incident back here in the valley, Lambert Poele came into the station. This was an honorable act, because ten years ago, when he told the police he suspected Alika Liu, we ignored him—mostly because old man Liu leaned heavily on the chief and local politicians to indict Poele.” Niwa took a sip of the pink stuff in his glass and grimaced. “We got back in touch with Devon Liu. This time, he told us he’d made a terrible mistake.”

  Storm and Caroline stared at him. “Which mistake was that?” Storm finally asked.

  “That’s all he would say.” Niwa looked out at the ocean. He was still pale and he looked much sadder than the Niwa of five days ago.

  “What are you going to do?” Caroline asked.

  “Nothing. We don’t have any proof, and word came in this morning he was admitted to the hospital last night with a stroke.”

  No one said anything for a long moment. “What did you tell Luke?” Storm asked.

  Caroline spoke first. “That both his parents loved him very much. We’ll explain things slowly, as he asks. He’s a very smart kid.”

  “I got that impression.”

  “He’s living with us,” Niwa said. “We’re applying for permanent custody, then we’re going to see if he’d like us to adopt him.”

  “Tanner would like that.”

  “I hope so.” Niwa eyed his wife’s glass of wine.

  She moved the glass out of his reach, and addressed Storm. “He’s got a lot of aunties and uncles here. Skelly’s taken him out in the kayaks.”

  “A holistic medicine manufacturer is making a bid on Tanner’s seaweed extraction technique. Tanner kept excellent records.” Niwa dumped the punch onto the sand. It left a pink blotch.

  “He used to take meticulous class notes, too.” Storm took another sip of wine. Not bad for coming out of a box.

  “We’re going to set up a college fund for Luke,” Caroline said.

  “If you ever need me, I’m here for him.” Storm’s stomach growled. She was hungry for the first time in weeks. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

  Dave Niwa looked delighted at that suggestion, and Caroline rolled her eyes.

  Glossary

  When the missionaries came to the islands around 1820, the Hawaiian language was completely oral. The Christian newcomers began to record the language and teach the Hawaiian natives to read and write. Anyone who lives in the islands for a period of time picks up common non-English words, and to leave them out of a story that takes place in the islands would undermine the portrayal of life here.

  There are 12 Roman letters in the Hawaiian alphabet, plus two diacritical marks, the kahakō, a line over a vowel, and the ‘okina, which looks like a backwards apostrophe and signals a glottal stop in the pronunciation. The ‘okina is often considered a letter, as a word with an ‘okina can have an entirely different meaning than the same spelling without it.

  Here are definitions of words used in Fire Prayer. Many of them are used in everyday conversation by people in Hawai‘i.

  ahi—yellow fin tuna

  ahupua‘a—wedge-shaped chunks of land controlled by Hawaiian chiefs, which theoretically had their points in the mountains and their bases in the sea outside the barrier reef

  ‘āina—land, earth

  akamai—smart

  akua—devil, spirit, ghost, often sent on an evil mission

  ‘alae—mud hen

  ali‘i—chief, chiefess, ruler, royal monarch

  ‘a‘ole—never, to be none, to have none

  ‘aumakua—family totem or personal gods, deified ancestors who assume the shape of plants and animals

  ‘awa—the plant Piper methysticum. The leaves are brewed in a tea as a treatment for insomnia.

  ‘awapuhi, or ‘awapuhi kuahiwi—wild ginger, Zingiber zerumbet. A commonly used fragrant plant used for shampoos, anti-inflammatories, ringworm, and other uses.

  chiisai chimpo—Japanese slang term used to describe the lack of size of a male’s genitalia

  char siu bao—Chinese dumpling, either baked or steamed, with meat (usually red pork) filling. Also called manapua.

  Hā‘awe i ke kua‘ hi‘i i kea lo—said of a woman who carries a load on her back and a baby in her arms.

  hala—a large wide-branched tree, characterized by aerial roots. Pandanus tectorius, also known as screw pine.

  hanai—adoption, Hawaiian style

  haole—white person

  hōlona—novice, a beginner

  hula kahiko—the ancient hula, as opposed to modern hula, or hula ‘auana.

  huhu—mad, angry

  kahuna—teacher, minister, expert in any profession. Plural is kāhuna; the letter “s” does not exist in the Hawaiian alphabet.

  kahuna ho‘o ulu lā hui—specialist in increasing population, or getting women pregnant

  kahuna lā‘au lapa‘au—a traditional Hawaiian healer, who uses native plants, herbs, and prayer

  kalo—taro plant

  kalua pork—salted, smoked pork, cooked until it falls apart. A local treat, often done in an imu, the traditional underground oven.

  kī—ti, or the Cordyline fruticosa plant

  koali, or koali ‘awa—Morning glory, or Ipomoea indica

  kolohe—mischievous, naughty

  kuleana—business, field of expertise

  lau lau—salt butterfish, beef, chicken or pork wrapped in taro or ti leaves and then steamed, a local delicacy. Ono-licious!

  li hing—salty, sugary powder for flavoring fresh and dried fruits, usually reddish in color. Contains different seasonings and flavors.

  limu—edible seaweed used in a number of dishes

  lolo—crazy

  lomi—rubbed, crushed, or squeezed. Also massaged.

  mana—power

  manapua—same as char siu bao. Also ono-licious!

  mo‘o—lizard, sometimes a malevolent presence in Hawaiian legends. Unless the mo‘o happens to be your ‘aumakua, that is.

  ono—pidgin (Hawaiian?) for good, or delicious

  ono—large mackerel-type fish, also known as skipjack or wahoo. Acanthocybium solandri

  ‘opihi—Cellana exarata and others, Hawaiian limpet snail, a delicacy that makes its home on rocks at the ocean’s edge

  paniolo—Hawaiian cowboy

  poha—the cape gooseberry, Physalis peruviana, a South American perennial herb in the tomato family.

  poke—a dish with raw fish, seaweed, and kukui nut. Used as hors d’oeuvres.

  pono—goodness, morality. Right, correct

  pua‘a—pig

  pueo—Hawaiian short-eared owl

  ule—penis

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