Auntie reached out and held Lana’s hand. “Your grandmother was my sister.”
Lana went perfectly still. A cool breeze shot up from the crater. For someone who had a tendency to know things, she felt an incredible sense of ignorance. Her mind went back to those early days at Volcano, all the run-ins, all the haunting looks. Auntie always just around the next bend, or behind the next ‘ohi‘a tree, ready to dispense advice on proper volcano etiquette and life in general. Was it surprise or betrayal or a blend of the two that she felt? Whatever it was, the skin on the back of her neck heated up.
“Have you always known?”
Auntie’s hand warmed up. “Always.”
Anger stirred. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“No one here knew. I left Kaua‘i when I was sixteen and traveled to New Zealand for a time. When I came back, I knew I needed to be here at Kīlauea. I wrote to Anuhea—your grandmother—from time to time, and I called her when I found out that your mother died. She told me everything and how they blamed Jack and pushed him away and he refused to let them see you. She asked me to keep an eye on you.”
Blame. A useless sentiment if there ever was one. No amount of blame has ever solved anything the world over. Poor Jack had taken the brunt of all that fierce and angry blame, and a second dose from Lana. While they had all been stuck in the past, Jack had tried to move forward. She saw that now.
Part of Lana wanted to run away; the other half needed to know. “How did you find out my mother died?”
Auntie closed her eyes and squeezed Lana’s hand tight. Her bent and calloused fingers were surprisingly strong and warm. “I heard her last words.”
Those were Lana’s private words. They belonged to her and Jack and no one else. “I don’t believe you,” Lana said.
“I had no children of my own, and your mother used to come visit me and bring me liliko‘i and dried mango and honey. Every time she came, we talked for hours. Not often, but we had a bond. She was beauty and goodness and aloha all wrapped into one woman.”
Auntie held firm to Lana’s hand. “What did she say?” Lana demanded.
“You know.”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “Tell me.”
Auntie opened her eyes and let out a long, deep breath. “‘She is my ha’ was what she said to Jack before crossing over.”
She stared into Lana with those haunted eyes of hers. Blue as the sea and brown as the earth. How could she know? Lana blinked back tears. And still Auntie did not let go. Lana knew that even if she tried, she would not be able to pull away. There was too much holding them together.
“Why didn’t you tell me when I was younger? Surely Jack would have understood.”
“I knew how much he had lost. Sometimes you have to know when a soul has had enough. When to fight and when to sit back and wait. You were all he had left, and I didn’t want to interfere,” Auntie said.
“No one ever thought to ask me?”
“You were too young. I knew the right time would come.”
Lana’s knees felt watery. She sank down to a nearby stool, and Auntie let go. The old woman looked spent, too. She crumpled to the floor, legs folded up, and leaned against a faded wicker love seat.
A full minute passed before Lana said, “This is a lot for me to take in right now, on top of everything.”
“Just know that you coming back here to Volcano was no accident. You are a part of this place and this place is a part of you.”
“It has always felt that way,” Lana said.
Auntie patted the spot above her heart. “And now look. You’ve brought others along with you. People who need an extra dose of care. You are stronger than you know, girl, and even more so when you’re here.”
Chattering voices announced the girls’ return. Coco and Marie came to the porch holding branches full of red leaves, their cheeks flushed. “We felt another earthquake. Did you feel it?” Coco said.
“We did,” Auntie said.
Coco frowned. “Aren’t you scared your house might fall off the cliff?”
Marie said, “We saw a big rockfall just down the way. This seems like a dangerous place to live.”
“Fear is purely in our minds,” Auntie told them, already back to work layering leaves into the lei.
“That rockfall looks pretty real,” Coco said.
“The rockfall is real. It happened. But my house is still here on the edge of the cliff. So I don’t waste my time worrying about something that may never happen. Nor should you.”
Lana wasn’t so sure about that logic, but didn’t have the energy to resist. “Auntie has invited us back. We can talk more about it then,” she said.
Coco gazed down at Auntie with a puzzled expression, and Lana knew she was going to come out with a big question. “Don’t you have a first name? It seems weird to just call you Auntie. Our mother has two sisters and we call them Aunt Heidi and Aunt Emma, even though they live in Munich.”
Munich came out very guttural.
Auntie looked at Coco, then at Lana. Her mouth puckered up and the creases around her eyes deepened. For the first time Lana could recall, she seemed unsure of herself.
“My first name is Lana.”
Coco frowned, taking in Auntie and then Lana. “You have the same name. Is that on purpose?”
“It is.”
Lana’s mouth had gone dry.
“Did my father know about any of this?”
Auntie shrugged. “She said she was going to tell him. But you ask me, he already knew.”
All Jack’s books, and his fascination with unexplained phenomena. They made sense now. Lana had a lifetime worth of questions, but right now, her concern was for the girls, especially Coco. “Can I come back soon and talk more?”
“There will be time. Come when you are ready.”
* * *
On a Christmas Day long ago, Jack and Lana had taken a drive up Mauna Loa Truck Trail with Isabel and Thomas Jaggar. A small lava lake bubbled in the crater, and after dinner Isabel wanted to watch the glow from the slopes above.
“I’d rather have a red Christmas than a white Christmas any day,” Isabel had said to Lana as they bumped along the winding road, beneath the wooded canopy and past the knee-high grasslands. They drove higher and higher, until they reached a newer flow with only the sporadic tree poking through the lava. Thomas pulled over to the side, and when Lana turned around, there before them was an ethereal glow coming from the heart of the earth. They sat under an ocean of stars, the adults sipping from a bottle of gin, and Lana munching on Christmas cookies. They watched the lava until Lana fell asleep under a wool blanket, with her head on Jack’s lap.
Now the memory kept tugging at her, causing melancholy to stick in the back of her throat. When she could no longer ignore it, or the throb of missing her childhood, she thought, To hell with it. They might not see any glow, but at least they wouldn’t be stuck in the house, moping. They were in the midst of preparing dinner when Lana announced, “Okay, everyone, we’re having a change of plans. Put everything aside. I want you to dress in your warmest clothes and gather all the blankets. We’re going for a drive.”
“I don’t feel like going anywhere,” Coco said.
“Me neither,” said Marie.
It would have been so easy to acquiesce. She hardly had any fight left, but if they stayed, she would suffocate. All patience had eroded. “I don’t care. We’re going.”
Coco threw down the wooden spoon, causing chunks of sweet potato to splatter across the floor. “No! You can’t make us!”
Sailor went right over and started licking it up.
Benji jumped up from the table. “I’ll go get ready,” he said.
Lana started trembling, every ounce of hurt and fear and frustration from recent weeks rattling through her body. And the revelations from Auntie. She felt l
ike a human earthquake, about to split at the seams.
Her voice lowered. “I said, go get your stuff. I know this is not how you want Christmas to be, but it’s how it is.”
Something in her tone must have spooked the girls, because they both shuffled off without another word. Lana put on two jackets, grabbed her wool cap and went to start the truck. The sun had gone behind Mauna Loa, but a piece of daylight remained.
Benji climbed into the back, and the girls seemed torn between riding in a warm cab with a grumpy driver, or freedom in the back. Sailor had already jumped in, and her tail thumped against the cab. They opted for freedom, which was fine with Lana, who wanted time to clear her head. Riding in the truck had become her only time alone throughout the day, and she welcomed the solitude.
On the way to Mauna Loa Road, they passed the military camp. The truck felt collectively heavier. It struck Lana that behind that barbed wire dwelled the other half of all their hearts. No matter how hard they tried to pretend that life went on, nothing would change that awful truth. Tears ran down her cheeks. She pressed the pedal to the floor and shot ahead.
Once they hit the Mauna Loa Truck Road, the going slowed. Eleven miles of twisty, curvy uphill. With gas rations and blackout, this was probably a dumb thing to do, but she saw no other means of escape. They rose through dense koa forests and thinner ‘ohi‘a drylands, where the occasional hawk hung on the wind. Soon the kids huddled against the cab for warmth. Lana rolled her window down a crack as icy wind blasted her face. Maybe she ought to pull over.
“You guys okay back there?” she yelled.
Heads nodded.
By the time twilight arrived, Lana guessed they were halfway up the mountain. Most of the drive passed in a blur. Her thoughts were purely on Auntie. Lana. Not only was she related to the woman, but she was her namesake. It seemed impossible. In Hawaiian, Lana meant “afloat,” or “calm as smooth waters.” Right now she felt more like waters slammed by a kona storm.
Had Jack known about Auntie? Known Lana was named after her? Beneath the injustice of it all, Lana felt the stirrings of a warm and cozy feeling. Auntie was family.
My great-aunt Lana.
A few minutes later, someone tapped on the glass behind her head. She rolled down the window and Marie yelled in. “Are we almost there? Our noses are freezing off.”
“We’ll stop at the next clearing,” Lana called back, feeling guilty for being toasty in the warm cab while they were in the cold, and also for growing impatient with them. She felt so volatile.
They bumped along for another half mile. She wanted to find a bluff where they could stretch out on a blanket, count falling stars and wish for better days. For the kids’ sake, she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. Then she noticed a staticky feeling in the air. The skies were perfectly clear and yet the hair on her arms stood on end. Something in the air was different.
Lana leaned forward to try to catch a glimpse of the summit. From her vantage point, the top of Mauna Loa was blocked by a steep cliff. When they finally hit a flat spot, she saw it. She slammed on the brakes. An unmistakable glow lit up the whole eastern flank of the mountain. She jumped out and climbed into the truck bed with the kids, standing to get a better look. Surely her eyes had been playing tricks on her. But the glow was still there. A line of chills shot from her toes to the base of her skull. Coco’s words sprung to mind. I want it to erupt.
“What are you looking at?” Benji asked.
None of the kids had budged from their cocoon. It would have been hard to with Sailor on their feet. The cold air stung Lana’s cheeks. “Get up and see for yourselves!”
Orange stained the night sky.
Coco stood behind Lana and grabbed her arm. “Did the Japanese bomb us again?”
“No, honey—Mauna Loa is erupting!”
“Will the lava come all the way down here and get us?” Coco asked.
Marie reminded her, “You were the one who said you wanted it to erupt.”
“I said I wanted Kīlauea to erupt.”
“Well, someone misheard you, then.” Lana intervened. “The lava has a long way to travel before reaching us, and depending on where the eruption is, it could flow the other way.”
Though who really knew. Pahoehoe lava traveled fast downstream, forming swift molten rivers. It might be smart to turn around. But they had just driven for an hour through the cold to get here, and they were all mesmerized.
“Will they evacuate our parents if the lava comes?”
“I’m sure they will.”
The glow blotted out the stars in half the sky. Lana was reminded how nature always had the last say. Lava built the ground up, while at the same time swallowing everything in its path—trees, roads, houses. There was nothing anyone could do but surrender. Maybe she should take note.
Surrender.
They stood watching for a good five minutes before the girls started whining about being cold. As much as Lana wanted to stay, the blazing sky was spreading down the mountain.
“We should probably head down. I’m sorry I dragged you all this way only to turn around, but I’d rather be safe than sorry,” she said.
In the excitement of the eruption, no one seemed to remember not wanting to come. They were all chattering and oohing and aahing. Lana fixed her gaze on the brightest of stars and made a wish. Nothing had gone her way in the past months, but there was always tomorrow. It was absurd to hope for love and happiness amid all this tragedy, but that’s exactly what she did.
“I’m sitting in the truck,” Coco announced.
“So am I,” said Marie.
Benji added, “Me too.”
They made a nest of blankets for Sailor in the back, Coco sat on Marie’s lap and Benji squished in against the door. Their four bodies warmed the cab within minutes.
On the way down, they passed two trucks racing up. Both had high beams on. With the whole sky ablaze, what difference did a pair of headlights make? Benji and Lana climbed out and took off their covers, too. With all the blind curves, it made for easier driving.
At the bottom, several army jeeps clustered around the gate. She slowed, cursing under her breath. A uniformed man on each side of the road stood pointing rifles at their vehicle. One of them held out his hand, as though he thought she might try to plow on through.
“Halt!”
Lana rolled to a stop and cut the lights. The man pointed a flashlight at her face, temporarily blinding her. She should have seen this coming. In the back, Sailor growled.
“State your business, ma’am. Civilians are not to be out past six o’clock.”
Lana held her hand up to block her eyes. “Sir, our truck broke down on the mountain and it took a while to get it going again, otherwise we would have been down hours ago.”
“You’re also breaking the law with no headlight covers.”
“We just took them off. The other cars had none, and, well, we figured with the eruption, what was the point. I was going to put them on back here at the gate.”
All these guards everywhere and suspicion and rules were hard to take. She hadn’t realized how good they’d had it in peacetime. Cinders crunched. Another man emerged out of the darkness, on the passenger side. He bent down and looked inside. “Let them pass, Private. I know Mrs. Hitchcock.”
That voice.
“Major Bailey!” Coco cried.
“Hey, kid.”
Lana turned toward Grant. He gave her a half smile, then said, “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”
She shrugged. “We had to get out of the house. I’m sure you can understand.”
“Ma’am, you’ll need to move on,” the other guard said.
Another vehicle approached from the park side. Grant stepped back, tapped the door frame and said, “Merry Christmas, y’all. I’ll expect you to head straight home.”
Lana couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
THE GIFT
Back at the house, she tucked the girls in, said good-night to Benji and collapsed onto her mattress. Now that Mochi was gone, she supposed she could move his bed in here, but then there would be no room for Sailor, and Sailor had become a fine sleeping partner.
The room was lighter than usual, with tree branch shadows moving like unknown guests across the walls. Lana thought of Grant. As soon as she’d seen him, the rest of the night had fallen away. The look on his face had been hard to read. Had he been concerned about them, or just annoyed? Either way, nothing had changed. He was there, and she was here with a heavy heart.
Drifting off, she heard Jack tapping nails in the floor somewhere nearby. He was working on the secret room again. It was so nice to have him back, but why did he have to build while she was trying to sleep?
“Quiet,” she said, jolting herself awake.
Sailor lay next to her, a growl forming in her chest. “What is it, girl?”
A sharp tap. Something hit the window. What on earth? Again. She jumped up and ran over, nearly tripping over her blanket. A tall figure stood in the grass, illuminated by just enough moon to make out the face. Lana opened the glass.
“Is that you?”
“It’s me.”
“What are you doing?” she said in a loud whisper.
His voice stirred up the night air. “I came to see you.”
“Hang on. Meet me out front.”
Lana half ran, half slid down the hallway in her socks, wearing her blanket over her nightgown and pulling on the yellow wool hat hanging by the door. Stay cool, she commanded herself.
Grant was waiting at the bottom of the steps.
He sounded out of breath. “I need to talk to you.”
“Am I in trouble again?”
“Thanks to me, you’re not. Will you come down here? I don’t want to wake the kids.”
Lana took each step slowly, sure that she was heading into danger. Once she reached the ground, she remained at arm’s length.
“How about that eruption,” Grant said.
Red Sky Over Hawaii Page 28