Carissa pulled over and took several pictures. She drew in a deep breath and enjoyed the briskness of the fresh air at this higher altitude. Even though she had been climbing for some time, the view to the top of the volcano seemed just as far-reaching into the heavens as it had from sea level. The guide brochure had given all the specifics of this twelve-thousand-foot dormant volcano known by the Hawaiians as Haleakala, or House of the Sun. Carissa tried to capture some of the grandeur of the colossal mount with a string of photos, but she had a feeling she didn’t have just the right angle to convey its magnificence.
Steering the car back onto the quiet road, she remembered reading about a tour company that offered bike rides down the main road that led to the top of the crater. It sounded interesting. She would have to ask Kai if he had ever done that. He looked like the sort of man who liked to ride bikes.
She would also have to ask him about the half-day sailboat tours listed in the brochure. Several of them sounded good, but one of them promised to take visitors to a site where it was guaranteed they would see thousands of tropical fish while snorkeling. She guessed it was expensive, but she loved the idea of floating in the warm ocean and looking through an underwater mask at all the amazing fish.
She knew that was the one thing Richard would want to do for sure, if he were here.
“But Richard is not here.” She stated the truth firmly, as if reprimanding a child in the backseat who was asking for something he couldn’t have. “I’m going to ask Kai. That’s all, just ask his advice.”
Her mind might have engaged more in the now-familiar tug-of-war that had plagued her for the past week, but she realized she was coming up to some buildings. It was the first development she had seen for miles. All that had lined the road were stretches of rocky meadowland dotted with a few cows. She hadn’t seen a single stand for fresh pineapple or shaved ice, like the photos showed. Those, she decided, were all along the other road. The long, winding Hana Highway.
Carissa slowed the car and pulled into a gravel parking area at the base of a lovely Victorian-era home with soaring trees providing opulent shade over a grassy picnic area. The signs indicated this was the Tedeschi Winery. Carissa remembered reading about how it was known for its pineapple wine and that the family that built the estate did so at great expense in the mid-1800s.
She also recalled that elk burgers were served in the general store across the road from the estate. The elk were raised on the ranch, and according to the reviewer, the burgers were “a unique Maui experience not many other than the locals are privileged to experience.”
Despite her less-than-favorable experience with “the best taco bar on Maui,” she was curious about the elk burgers and decided to go check out the deli. Carissa sauntered across the road and stepped onto the western frontier—style front porch of the general store. The porch came complete with benches and with painted, wood-carved figures in the shape of rugged ranch hands settled in relaxed poses with their cowboy hats dipped low and their wooden thumbs tucked into the tops of their wide belt buckles.
The interior of the store made Carissa feel as if she had entered a movie set for something out of the Old West. The rough wooden shelves artfully displayed a bounty of one-of-a-kind souvenirs, such as bandanas with silhouettes of hula girls and colorful children’s books with paintings of whales and dolphins. Carissa took time to check out the assortment of island jams and syrups as well as barbecue and teriyaki sauces.
A round table in the center carried a bountiful array of tropical-scented lotions and candles. Their welcoming fragrance attracted Carissa’s attention, and she helped herself to a sample squirt from one of the tester bottles labeled pikake. She rubbed her hands together and took a sniff. She smelled like a flower. A tropical flower.
Picking up the smallest bottle, she decided this would be her first souvenir. The wood floors creaked as she made her way to the back of the quaint building. She joined two men dressed in soiled jeans and long-sleeved work shirts, who were talking to an older woman behind the deli counter. Their conversation carried the same clipped and lyrical rhythm she had heard from Mano when they stopped to get the “pig.”
The men stepped aside, checking her out. Carissa smiled at the woman behind the counter. “Do you have elk burgers?”
The woman smiled back warmly. Carissa felt as if she had entered a private club and knew the secret password. She congratulated herself for being brave and daring and coming to this off-the-beaten-path place. Also, she was ordering something she had never eaten before. Now all Carissa hoped was that the burger was better fare than the tacos had been.
She paid for the perfume and the food, including something called POG that she pulled from the refrigerated beverage case. It was what both the guys in front of her were drinking; so she reached for a carton as if this were part of her initiation into this up-country club. The small print listed the ingredients as passion fruit, orange juice, and guava juice; the initials formed the word POG. It sounded good.
And it was. So was the elk burger. The meat was tender, lean, flavorful, and satisfying. Carissa enjoyed her luau-for-one while sitting under an enormous tree on the front grounds of the grand manor across the road. A sign at the tree’s base labeled it as a camphor tree. A few curious and daring birds hopped over close to her and begged for crumbs, which she gladly shared.
This is wonderful. So peaceful. I feel like a little girl being pampered.
A distinct thought hopped over to her as courageously as the birds. That’s because you’re my daughter. I long to give you gifts like this, gifts of peace.
Carissa didn’t move. She knew where that tender impression came from. It rested on her with such subtle affirmation she knew it had to be God. In the seasons of her life when she deeply trusted him, this was one of the ways she sensed his presence, with calm yet piercing affirmations that went deep inside.
Her first reaction was to spring to her feet and run. She had been found when all she wanted was to be alone. But where would she go?
She looked around. No other humans were in sight. She was alone under the tree with just God.
Carissa didn’t get it. Why was he being nice to her? She had closed him out. She had left God somewhere back in another season of her life. Why was he still here? She thought he had abandoned her long ago.
Then Carissa knew. She knew the truth. She could see it clearly. She was the one who had packed her bags and left, not God. She was the abandoner, not the abandonee.
A deep scowl crossed her face. The birds flitted away.
No.
Tiny breaths passed in and out through her nostrils. She pushed it all away. The peace, the possibility, the truth.
No.
Rising and tromping back to the car, Carissa turned her thoughts to the plan for the day. Waterfalls, camping, stories by the fire with Irene and Kai. That’s what she had on the agenda. Not divine revelations from God.
Somehow repeating her agenda took her back to the fuzzy, hopeful place she had been earlier on her drive, when she was turning her attention to the possibilities that were ahead in her life.
Continuing on down the smooth road, Carissa fell back in sync with the energy that came from anticipation. She was looking forward to showing up at the campsite. She wondered what Irene, and particularly Kai, would say, or what sort of expression he would have on his face.
It’s a beautiful thing to be wanted.
Those thoughts propelled her on into what waited ahead for her. That was the reality she chose to live in at the moment. Right or wrong, she was determined to move forward and not get stuck on trying to resolve the past or make sense of the present.
The road narrowed, and several small potholes appeared, causing her to focus on the road. Just then her cell phone rang. She pushed the speaker button and returned both hands to the wheel.
“Hello?”
“Carissa.” It was Richard. She didn’t know why his custom tone hadn’t rung. If it had, she might not have pick
ed up his call just then.
“Hi.” Her voice quavered.
“I’m having problems with my cell phone. I saw that you called, but if you left a message, I couldn’t pick it up.”
“I didn’t leave a message.”
Silence.
“Well, I’m at the hotel in Denver. If you need that number, I can give it to you now.”
“I can’t write it down right now, Richard. I’m driving.”
“Are you able to pull over?”
“No, the road is really narrow, and there’s no shoulder.” She hit a small pothole. “It’s not possible for me to pull over.”
“Where are you?”
“On Maui!”
“I know you’re on Maui, but where are you going on such a bad road?”
“I’m going to a campground.”
The minute she let that detail out of her mouth she regretted it.
“Did you say campground?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going camping,” Richard repeated.
“Yes.” She knew nothing she said now would sound right or make sense.
He seemed at a loss as to how to reply.
“Can we talk later?” Carissa felt her throat tightening. “I don’t know if I’ll have very good phone reception where I’m going for the next few days. Your voice seems to be cutting out.”
“Well, I’ll be here in Denver until Sunday morning. Do you want me to call you then?”
“If you want. But I’ll be home a few days after that.” She almost added, “So we can bring out the hatchets then, and I’m sure you’ll want to hack to pieces the flailing bits of our relationship that are left.” But she didn’t add any commentary on the future of their relationship.
“Carissa?”
“Yes?”
He lowered his voice. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The voice coming through her phone was the man she had married. This was Richard as his truest self. All the counselor was gone. All the impatient, irritated, hardened tones of the past year and a half were absent. This was just her best friend asking her how she was doing.
A shiver went up her neck, but she forced herself not to take it in. He couldn’t call her like this and try to coax her back into a place of trusting him simply because he sounded concerned about her well-being. No. She was not okay, and she did not want to report her current condition to him, no matter how right it felt to let down her defenses.
“Carissa, are you still there?”
“I’m here.” She clenched her jaw and told herself to hang up on him. She could always blame it later on poor phone service. But she couldn’t bring herself to move her hand from the steering wheel.
In a low and uneven voice, Richard tenderly said, “Listen, I have to tell you. I …I’m sorry.”
She knew he was speaking from his heart.
“I’ve thought a lot since you left, and you were right. I should have demonstrated more care and concern for you the night my client came to the house. I’ve thought about that and about a lot of other things that have been going on between us for quite some time now. I want to apologize. I haven’t done a very good job of loving you or caring for you. I’m sorry.”
Carissa slowed the car to a crawl and stared out the windshield, as a view of the ocean came into sight. She had nothing to say. She had no place to put his words. Never in her wildest dreams did she expect this. It had been years since Dr. Richard Lathrop had apologized for anything. Her tightened spirit kept saying, No. No! You can’t do this. You can’t get off this easy. No. I don’t want to have this conversation now. We can talk when I get back. After I’ve had time to order my thoughts. Not now. Not like this.
“I really can’t talk about this right now.” She forced herself to find those few words.
“Is someone with you?”
“No. I just …I’m trying to drive on this narrow road and …”
“Ca …ssa?”
“Richard? I think my phone is losing service. We’ll have to talk later.”
“O …we’ll …later …”
Their call cut off. She looked at her phone just to make sure she was the one who had lost reception and that he hadn’t hung up on her.
Why did he have to call me? Why right now?
A car covered in dust passed her, uncomfortably close. She saw a small turnout and knew she could go back to where the phone had reception. She could find a place farther back up the road where she could park the car, and they could talk at length. But she was on her set course now and didn’t want to turn around. Besides, she wasn’t ready to talk more and couldn’t imagine what she would say.
Around the next curve, the paved road turned into an uneven gravel road. The immediate change in the driving conditions caused Carissa to brace herself, as the car jostled from side to side on the precariously narrow road. Apparently this was the beginning of the remote side of the island and the reason the tour brochures insisted visitors take the paved Hana Highway.
Carissa’s heart picked up its pace. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. The bumpy dirt road around the underside of the island continued for mile after weary mile. She had no space in her thoughts to process the call she had just had with Richard. All her concentration was on what she was going through at the moment.
Carissa felt bruises on her leg where the car jostled her against the door. She had to roll up her windows and turn off the air-vent fan because of all the dust flowing in from this arid portion of the island. The terrain had changed from the lush hillside of the winery and the huge trees to no vegetation and nothing but rocks and dirt.
The jostling wasn’t nearly as frightening as the narrow road’s trajectory along the rim of a steep cliff that plummeted to the ocean far below. No guardrails were in place. Only loose rocks. In some parts of the road, nothing separated her car from the edge. One bounce too far to the right, and she would be hurled down a three-hundred-foot decline before crashing headlong into the water that she could see stretch out to the horizon.
Carissa checked the speedometer. She was going less than ten miles per hour. How many more miles did the terrible road continue? She felt very much alone.
At one of the narrow curves, she heard a car horn sound. Oddly, the sound gave her a sense of cheer. She wasn’t the only traveler on this road. If something did go wrong, she wouldn’t be undiscovered for days.
However, a moment later, the oncoming car appeared around the blind curve and screeched to a halt only inches from the front bumper. Carissa slammed on her brakes and could tell that a ball of dust and rocks was spinning out from under the tires.
Terrified, Carissa stared at the driver in the other car. He appeared to be a local. His arm was hanging out the open window; his dark hair was a wind-whipped mess of curls. He looked reasonably carefree as he backed up his car. He kept going until he had disappeared around the blind curve like a sand crab, tucking itself back in its hole.
“What am I supposed to do?” Carissa said under her breath. Had he backed up into a turnout she couldn’t see? Was she supposed to go forward and pass him? For miles the road had been only wide enough for a single car. She didn’t remember any recent turnouts. How far would the guy have to go?
She heard the sound of his car’s horn again. Slowly, trying to keep her hands steady, Carissa inched the car forward until she was around the curve. The other driver had backed up against the side of the hill in a precarious spot. He motioned for her to hurry up and drive past him. With her teeth clenched and hands gripping the steering wheel, Carissa eased her way along, clearing his car by inches.
He said something through his open window that she didn’t catch since her window was rolled up. Then the driver gave Carissa the same sort of hand gesture Kai had given her when he was pulling out of the driveway yesterday. They were so close, Carissa realized that if her window were rolled down, they could have reached out and touched the other’s face.
The next blind curve Carissa came
to she sounded her horn just to be sure she had the right-of-way. She didn’t usually get carsick, but then she had never driven on a road like this before. She was definitely feeling nauseous. The road continued without improvement and added several short bridges to the challenge. One of them appeared to be brand new, which gave her hope that she was coming closer to civilization. If she could have turned around and gone back to the cottage without having to navigate the stretch she had already driven, she would have done it.
I’ve gone too far now. I’m committed.
The word “committed” didn’t sit well with her. But she had too many crucial driving challenges before her now to evaluate why the word bothered her.
Just when she was about to let out a wail of exasperation, she noticed the landscape change. Stretches of green grass spread out from the road on either side, and tall jungle foliage appeared. Then the road changed instantly. She went from clunky bumps and dips to a smooth, blessedly smooth, road.
Carissa felt her jaw relax. She had made it. The terrible, bone-rattling part of the journey was over. She had stuck to her commitment even in the rough spots, and she was almost at her goal.
Looking out the windshield over the top of her sunglasses, Carissa shot a sardonic glance at the sky above and then shook her head, eyes back on the road. “Yes, I see the analogy. All commitments go through rocky patches. I know that. Now, please, don’t follow me where I’m going. Just let me be free, okay?”
Carissa drove slowly. On either side of the road, wild vines wound themselves around the tall, tropical trees, using the stability and strength of the unmoving trees to reach ever upward toward the light.
Loosening her grip on the steering wheel, Carissa couldn’t believe she had just talked to God as directly and frankly as if he were real and sitting beside her. Then the word that had come to her mind and her mouth several times over the past four hours came out again. “No. I don’t want to talk to you right now. I don’t want to think about all my problems.”