Carissa looked around at the ancient ruins. Irene’s nearly legendary superwoman seemed more real than ever.
“One of my favorite stories about Ka’ahumanu happened in Lahaina, on the west side of the island.”
“I went to Lahaina the other day and had a look around.”
“Then you’ll be able to imagine what I’m going to tell you. Not far from where you saw the huge banyan tree was where the royal residence used to be. Ka’ahumanu was in her mid-forties when this happened, if I remember correctly. She had gone through a rough season with illness, great loss, and opposition from enemies on many sides. But she had returned to a position of strength. One sea captain who had known her for years wrote that her life showed evidence of a genuine conversion to Christianity.”
Irene stepped over to a small, rounded boulder that faced Carissa, and Irene carefully sat down. She kept her chin lifted to the strong breeze.
“This is what happened. A priestess who worshipped the ancient gods came from the Big Island to hold an audience with Ka’ahumanu and the rest of the ali’i, the royalty. She brought with her an agitated entourage. A scholar who was there that day recorded the moment by saying that a priestess approached the ali’i with an intense expression. Her tangled hair stuck out in every direction. The edges of her robe were singed from the fires of Kilauea. The wild woman carried a spear and a feathered kahili—that’s a tall pole with feathers in a circle around the top. It represented power. For her, it was the power of the ancient gods. Thousands of people gathered to see what was going to happen.”
Carissa could imagine right where all this had occurred. What made the story even more vivid was the way the wind was drying Irene’s hair, pulling it away from her face as she spoke. Even though she was sitting still, she appeared to be traveling at a great speed, taking Carissa back in time with her.
“Ka’ahumanu asked what message the woman brought. The priestess said that while she was in a trance, Pele, the goddess of fire, had come into her. The priestess demanded that the missionaries who had offended Pele be forced to leave the islands. If they didn’t go, Pele would show her vengeance by causing the volcano and sending its death flow of searing lava across the island.
“Ka’ahumanu asked the woman to put down her spear and put down the kahili. The woman refused. Ka’ahumanu then commanded her to do so. Can you imagine it? Thousands of commoners watching this challenge. And the priestess complied. Then Ka’ahumanu spoke to her kindly, saying, ‘You are not Pele. You are a woman, as I am a woman, both made by God. The volcano of Kilauea, like all the volcanoes around the world, was also made by the one, true God. Now give up your false gods. Go back to your island. Plant the sweet potatoes. Beat the tapa cloth, catch fish, and be responsible for your own provisions instead of living on the gifts you demand from the people on behalf of Pele.’”
“And with that,” Irene gave her hand a flick of the wrist, “the priestess left. The thousands of observers saw once again that the old gods no longer held any power over them. It was an exceptional day.”
With just enough panache to be endearing, Irene lowered her eyes, smiled at Carissa, and said, “And on that day, Ka’ahumanu demonstrated which woman carried the true strength and power. She was the one who stayed.”
14
“Iesu e, ke Kumu mui ’o na pomaika’i o’onei
Kahe mau na wai aloha paipai ia’u e ho’omaika’i
E a’o mai ia’u la e memele me lakou ma kela ao
Hapai au i kou aloha kou aloha ’oia mau.”
“Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed his precious blood.”
FOR THE REST OF the day Carissa thought about Richard. She thought about what it would look like for her to “stay.” Where would they live? What would she do for a job? Would Richard adjust his schedule so the two of them would have more time together?
She checked her phone twice, just to see if she could pick up a signal. No success.
Returning to the hammock, she pretended to take an afternoon nap. What she was really doing was formulating a plan. She always did better when she had a schedule to follow. Here, everything was unscheduled. Uncharted. If she was going to at least attempt to be a courageous, strong, and determined woman who had chosen to “stay,” she needed to know how to start the process.
Richard had taken the first step with his apology. It was her turn to respond, but she didn’t quite know what to do.
She decided to stick with her plan to drive back that afternoon. She would have phone service and could start to talk through with Richard some of the things that she saw as big problems between them. That way, she reasoned, she could finish out her vacation on Maui without this restless, not-knowing sense of foreboding following her around. When she got home, they could work at things together.
Or not. That remained to be seen. At least she wouldn’t be stuck here in limbo, and she could rest and enjoy the time she had left.
Sliding out of the hammock, she went over to the newly formed circle of fifteen lawn chairs that had been set up by the others in the group who had been arriving all afternoon. Irene was conversing with another woman when Carissa interrupted as politely as she could.
“I’ve decided to drive back to the cottage this afternoon.”
“Not this afternoon!” The other woman’s eyes grew wide. “Either direction it will take you forever. That’s why we came as early as we could today. Wait till the morning. You’ll have the road to yourself, if you leave early enough.”
Irene nodded, and Joel, who had joined the group, agreed.
Carissa gave in to their persuasiveness, and when Joel asked if she wanted to go with some of them to buy water, she agreed so she would have something to do.
“I thought Kai went for water this morning,” Irene said.
“He did. He bought drinking water. We need to go to the church and fill up the containers from the spigot so we have water to wash up.”
“You have a waterfall to wash up in,” Irene said.
The other woman chuckled at Irene’s comment as Joel and another young woman led Carissa over to a minivan.
“How far do we have to go for the water?” Carissa asked.
“Not far. A couple of miles. There’s a spigot available for public use next to an old church. I walked to it one time, but you know, carrying twenty gallons of water back to camp is no fun.”
She was about to climb into the car when Kai appeared from one of the neighbors’ campsites. “Did I hear you say you guys are going over to Palapala Ho’omau?”
“You mean the old church? Yeah, we can. Why?”
“I thought Carissa might be interested in seeing it. She’s never been there before.”
“Okay, sure. You wanna come too?” Joel asked.
Kai thought a moment. “Sure. Why not.” He hopped into the backseat and slid over. The young woman climbed in next to him, leaving the front seat for Carissa.
Carissa tried to remember the young woman’s name. It was Hawaiian but it didn’t seem to stick even though she’d heard it several times.
They drove back through the entrance of the Haleakala National Park and saw a lineup of cars waiting to enter. Three large tour vans led the pack.
“Are all those people coming here to camp?” Carissa asked.
“Probably not,” Kai said. “They all drive over for the day to see the waterfalls. That’s why we come here and stay. It’s no fun to drive four or five hours to get here and then, after one swim, turn the van around and drive back.”
Carissa was glad she was in on the camping experience. She had loved going to the pools early that morning and then again with Irene before many visitors had arrived.
“Have you been camping here before?” Carissa asked the young woman in the backseat.
She had short, bleached-blonde hair and wore a clunky, ornate cross necklace that hung down to the middle o
f her stomach.
When she didn’t reply to Carissa’s question, Joel looked in the rearview mirror and said, “Maile, Carissa asked if you’ve been camping here before?”
“Oh. I didn’t know you were talking to me. No, this is my first time here. These guys invited me. I met them at church in the addicts’ class.”
Carissa thought she misunderstood her or maybe that she was kidding. But then the expressions all three of them shared made it clear Maile was serious.
“Addicts?” Carissa repeated.
“We don’t call it that,” Kai said. “It’s the ‘New Life’ group.”
“He’s one of the leaders,” Maile said. “All of us are overcoming some sort of addiction.”
Carissa glanced at Joel. He placed his hand over his heart and said, “Drugs. Twenty-seven months clean.”
“Good for you,” Carissa said.
“Mine’s alcohol,” Maile said. “Just three months sober. But I’m really trying, and the class is helping.”
“That’s great.” Carissa knew a little about what it meant for them to make their declarations to her. She applauded their bravery and honesty.
Maile turned to Kai. He seemed pained the most to name his addiction, even though the two others apparently knew what it was.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Carissa said.
“Does it make you uncomfortable talking about this?” Maile was looking at Carissa when she asked.
“Me? No, not really.”
“My mom says I should never talk about it, especially to people I hardly know, but that’s part of how I got where I am. Or, I should say, where I was.”
“I’m sort of used to it,” Carissa said. “My husband is a counselor. He specializes in addictions. Well, specifically, he counsels men who struggle with sexual addiction.” Carissa couldn’t believe she was rolling that piece of information off her tongue as easily as she was. She usually worked hard to hide it from others, especially strangers.
Years ago, when Richard did mostly premarital counseling, she loved telling people what he did. Who doesn’t enjoy hearing about plans for a wedding? But when his clientele changed, her bragging about him changed, too. She hadn’t seen that fact until this moment.
Is that part of the reason Richard feels I don’t honor him?
Maile broke into Carissa’s thoughts. “My boyfriend says sexual addiction isn’t really an addiction. It’s just the way guys are.”
“My husband would disagree with your boyfriend. For some men it is an addiction. Not for all men. But for some. The cycle is triggered a little differently than with drug or alcohol addiction.” She paused, but all of them had their eyes on her, waiting for her to go on.
“A lot of people don’t realize that during arousal the body produces chemicals that induce a high that’s as powerful as some narcotics.”
“Endorphins, right?” Maile asked.
“That’s one of them. Also, dopamine and adrenaline. With an addict, instead of experiencing all that naturally in the marriage bed, as my husband says, they use the chemical high to medicate the pain in their lives.”
“Like any other drug of choice,” Joel said.
“I think it’s more complicated than that, but I know that to continually experience that high, men and women fall into cycles of looking at or participating in whatever they need to release that mix of chemicals in their bodies and use the high to medicate.”
Carissa realized again that she was speaking boldly about something she never wanted to talk about at home. Whenever Richard used those terms in casual public settings, she felt uncomfortable and wanted to change the subject. She couldn’t remember a time when she was the one reciting all this information, but obviously she had been listening when Richard gave his lectures.
Since they were still staring at her, she added a bit more information she had heard Richard deliver in talks over the years. “There’s one other part to it. As with any addiction cycle, the addict believes he needs the high, the drug, to feel normal. It becomes a daily focus. A basic need. So when the original, entry-level high isn’t enough, he looks for ways to intensify it. That’s when a lot of perversion enters, and well, I’m sure I don’t need to say any more. It’s all around us and getting worse.”
Carissa tried to think of how to put the lid back on this can of worms and conclude the subject so they could move on. “It can be treated. That’s what my husband does. The cycle has to be broken and new cycles put in place. That’s why it takes so long to recover. Usually five years. Old lies have to be replaced with truth. Some of my husband’s clients have issues in their past that have never been addressed, and the pain from those issues is often what they’re medicating.”
“We know all about that,” Joel said.
“Richard says the recovery process begins with forgiveness and healing. That’s where he always starts. He’s seen marriages restored and men’s lives put back together after years of addiction.”
Kai had been staring at her the whole time she was speaking. “He’s right on. Forgiveness and healing. It has to start there. Your husband must be an extraordinary man.”
“He is.” Carissa didn’t realize what she had said until the words were out of her mouth. It felt like a breakthrough moment for her, accepting her husband for who he was and what he did—and honoring him.
“May his tribe increase,” Joel added.
The van had turned down what looked like a rarely traveled dirt road that cut through the middle of a grove. An abundance of tall, slender trees shaded the path, and exotic-sounding birds called to them as the van slowed and pulled up in front of a surprisingly well-maintained, whitewashed chapel with a green, pointed roof. It felt as if they were entering a place that time had forgotten. Carissa noticed the scent of mold mixed with a lingering faint sweetness that hung in the air when they stopped and got out.
“This is the church Kai wanted you to see. Do you guys want to go inside?” Joel asked.
“Sure,” Maile said.
Kai headed for the front door down the short path. “I’m sure my mom could tell you the entire history of this church and the names of the missionaries who came from New En-gland and built it more than 150 years ago.”
He tried the door. It was open. The four of them entered. The rows of wooden pews were painted deep green, and the simple altar at the front appeared not to have changed over the decades.
Kai took a seat in one of the pews, as if they had arrived for a special service. Maile and Joel sat in a pew across the row from him. Carissa quietly slipped into the row behind Kai and waited for whatever was supposed to happen next.
The silence inside the cool chapel covered them in the same way the soft air and the birdsong had covered them when they stepped out of the van. Around her, it seemed the others were resting their spirits in contemplation and quiet prayer. Carissa sat comfortably with them, settling into a long-forgotten place of reverence in her spirit.
She thought of how simple all this was: wooden benches, whitewashed walls, a roughly hewn pulpit. This be-still-and-know-that-I-am-God moment of quiet contemplation struck a sharp contrast to how complex church had become for her over the past few years.
Blake was young when they found a church all of them liked. Carissa and Richard became involved and helped on many levels to build up the small congregation. Blake made some close friends, as did Carissa and Richard. It was a good place for them to be for many years.
Then for a dozen small reasons it became exhausting to go to church. They were volunteering in too many areas. A new pastor came, and the church grew to three services, five on Christmas and Easter. Carissa and Richard withdrew from their volunteer commitments after Blake left home. They found they could go to any one of the services and not see a single person they knew or feel as if they received anything personal out of the message.
Their church stopped being a place of worship for Carissa. It was different here in this humble chapel, covered by the silence. No pi
ctures flashed on large screens. No jokes were being told into lapel mikes. Here, the simplicity gave plenty of room for a worshipper to focus on God alone.
Reaching for the book resting on the uneven wooden shelf on the pew’s back, Carissa discovered it wasn’t a Bible but rather a hymnal. All the hymns were in Hawaiian. The English titles were listed in small print under the Hawaiian title on each page. Carissa thumbed through the pages, reading the English titles:
Abide with Me
God Will Take Care of You
Softly and Tenderly Jesus Is Calling
Safe in the Arms of Jesus
Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us
What a Friend We Have in Jesus
In the same way that she had felt God nudging her yesterday while she was having her luau-for-one under the camphor tree, she felt as if he was trying to show her, here in the hymns’ titles, that he was with her. Right beside her. He wanted to be close. He wanted her to come close to him and to trust him.
She didn’t want to deal with any of those thoughts at the moment. She still was processing her feelings about Richard and trying to understand what it meant that she had felt honored to talk about his occupation. Maybe the ongoing stresses in their marriage hadn’t been Richard’s doing. Maybe she had pulled back in small ways over the past few years that had added up to significant distance between them.
The others rose and filed out reverently. Carissa left the hymnal in the pew rack along with her thoughts on God’s gentle nudgings. She followed the others out into the warm sunshine.
“There’s a grave you might want to see,” Kai said.
The extensive grounds were well maintained and felt alive with flowering trees and freshly mowed grass. Many of the stone grave markers were old and tilting, due to the expanding tree roots underneath them. The wide, grassy area where Kai led her was distinguished by a mound of gathered lava rocks. The memorial space was larger than other graves around it, and the flat marker was embedded in the mound of black rocks.