Irene shuffled her notes as Carissa filled the pan with fresh water and went to work making some dinner for both of them.
“I’m trying to conclude the account of what happened at the end of her life,” Irene said. “She had spent her final years traveling around the islands with the missionaries, assisting them by preaching her little heart out. After she came to faith in Christ, Ka’ahumanu’s efforts for good among her people were tireless. She changed laws, cared for the sick, and fought to keep seamen from taking young Hawaiian girls off with them when they left port.”
“Is it okay if I use these vegetables in the sink?” Carissa asked.
“Yes. I picked them from the garden to go with the noodles. Have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
“Please join me. I have plenty.”
“Thanks. Now, with the story, when Ka’ahumanu knew she was dying, she was carried to her house in the cool Manoa Valley. There she was placed on a bed made from fragrant maile leaves and ginger, covered with a piece of velvet cloth. One of the missionaries, Hiram Bingham, came to her with the first copy of the printed Hawaiian New Testament. It took twelve years to complete the translation because the Hawaiian language had never been transposed into a written language. The missionaries had to start by composing an alphabet. In the end, the Hawaiian alphabet consisted of only twelve letters—a, e, i, o, u, h, k, l, m, n, p, and w.”
Irene looked over at Carissa. “I got off track, didn’t I? What was I saying?”
“Ka’ahumanu was dying, and someone brought her a Bible.”
“Yes, that’s right. The first New Testament translated to the Hawaiian language. The work had just been completed. She examined it carefully and then wrapped it in her handkerchief. She clasped the Bible to her chest and pronounced it mai ka’i, which is the most tender way of saying ‘good.’ She was asked her dying thoughts and she said, ‘Oh, my friends, have great patience, stand firm on the side of the good way.’ Then a little later she raised her hands and in a clear voice she repeated two lines from a native hymn. ‘Eia no au, e Iesu, E. E nana oluolu mai.’”
“And what does that mean in English?”
“It means, ‘Here am I, O Jesus. Oh, look this way in compassion.’” Irene had tears in her eyes. “Such a tenderness from such a strong woman who had started her days with a haughty spirit.”
The water was boiling. Carissa put the flat, long noodles in and stirred them slowly. “That is remarkable.”
“Yes, she was a remarkable woman. Now, if only I could find this one missing piece.”
“What’s that?”
“I can’t find the hymn she quoted anywhere. I found that it was based on Psalm 51 and was an original Hawaiian hymn, not an English hymn translated into Hawaiian. But I can’t find the source.”
“I’m not sure it will matter to the students tomorrow,” Carissa said cautiously. “They’ll just want to hear the stories. That’s what they’ll remember.”
Irene put down her pen and leaned back. “You’re right. All the exact details are important to me. The students will just want to hear the stories. Yes, thank you.”
Carissa had chopped the fresh vegetables and had them steaming now as she strained the noodles and poured them into bowls. “Are you feeling nervous about tomorrow?”
“A little.” Irene smiled shyly at Carissa. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”
Scooping the steamed vegetables over the noodles, she carried the two bowls over to Irene and sat beside her. “You’ll do great tomorrow. I know you will.”
“And if I don’t do so well, you might hear me crying out, ‘Here am I, O Jesus. Oh, look this way in compassion.’”
Carissa smiled, and the two of them enjoyed their simple meal.
A short time later, Carissa cut through the Garden of Eatin’ on her way back to the cottage. Around her echoed the lush night sounds of the garden. She stopped beside the banana trees and looked up to see how the pudgy-fingered bananas were coming along. She was thinking about making some banana bread tomorrow night when they returned from Oahu.
What she saw made her stop and catch her breath.
17
“Ho ‘ola nani
Haku o na lahui
He Akua no na kanaka pu.”
“Fair is the sunshine,
Fairer still the moonlight,
And all the twinkling starry host.”
THE PLUMP MAUI MOON hung overhead, looking fuller and closer than ever. It wasn’t like the half-moon that had stared unblinkingly at her when she had first arrived. Nor was it the mysterious floating moon that had cast its waving ribbon of light on the ocean when she was camping.
This moon was stronger and brighter and was beaming at her. Carissa lingered under the glow. If Ke Akua was looking down tonight, she wanted to make sure he saw her. And somehow, she knew he did.
Carissa felt as if her relationship with God had returned to its most elemental level. She was a child. His child. It was like the sign on Dan and Irene’s front door: “Two of God’s Children.”
A lulling trade wind rustled the shaggy palm fronds and played with the loose ends of Carissa’s hair. She drew in a deep breath. A faint sweetness floated on the air. Taking off her sandals, she sunk her bare feet into the damp grass. Lifting her arms as she had seen Irene do not far from this same spot in the garden, Carissa raised her head and softly cried out, “Here am I, O Jesus. Oh, look this way in compassion.”
If she had known how to say Ka’ahumanu’s final words in Hawaiian, Carissa would have. All she remembered was how to say God’s name in Hawaiian so she repeated it to him as a starting point of her reconciliation with her heavenly Father. “Ke Akua, Ke Akua.”
It sounded to her as if she were calling out, “Daddy, Daddy,” and waiting for him to gather up her spirit and hold her close to his heart. Then she realized he had never let go. She knew he had always been with her. He hadn’t abandoned her, as she had realized earlier that week. She had abandoned him.
Now she wanted to come back. She didn’t know exactly what to say or do next, so she stood there, staring at the moon, caught up in the sense of holiness that pervaded this garden. Was it enough that she had expressed her thoughts to him, or did she need to pray?
Her reflections drifted off on the trade winds and slipped through the fronds of the palm trees overhead. She felt pulled toward the moon. Drawn closer, like the tides. She wanted to sleep here, in the garden, under the watchful, protective glow.
Maybe tomorrow night, when I don’t have to set the alarm to wake up so early. I could pull one of the padded lounge chairs out here and sleep under the silver moonlight.
Softly padding her barefoot way back to the cottage, Carissa got ready for bed. She called Richard from under the comfy covers while the ceiling fan slowly stirred the air above her.
It was very late for him, and he had been asleep, but he listened patiently as Carissa told him about the moon and the impressions she felt. It had been a long time since she had shared anything with Richard about her relationship with God. She could tell Richard was listening carefully.
He responded with kindness and affirmations about everything she was expressing to him. It was the most intimate talk they had shared in months. Maybe years. She wished he were beside her in this big, beautiful bed and not far across the sea. She wanted him close to her.
She tried to go even deeper and express how she saw that she was the one who had abandoned God. He had not abandoned her the way her father had.
Then, for the first time, she recounted to Richard what had happened the night her father left. How he had pulled his clothes from the closet and never even looked back at her or Heidi. She told her husband how it made her feel and all the fears from that moment that she had carried these many years.
Richard was a gentle listener. His responses drew the last drops of the deepest poison from her soul. He understood. She took her time crying through all her feelings from that long-ago moment. And she knew she w
ould never need to cry about it again. She felt cleansed. Once she got it all out, she felt free.
Exhausted but feeling lightened, Carissa exchanged several “I love you’s” back and forth with her husband, and their night rendezvous came to a close. Carissa turned off the light, snuggled under the covers, luxuriating in a surrounding sense of peace.
She fell asleep easily enough, but it wasn’t so easy to wake up when her alarm pierced the darkness at 4 A.M. She had such a limited wardrobe with her that it made her choice of what to wear easy.
Irene was ready when Carissa entered by the sliding patio door. They drove to the airport without much conversation and not much traffic in either direction. Carissa parked the car, carried in their things, and had no problems checking in or boarding for their short, interisland flight.
Carissa took the window seat, from which she had a great view of the water and islands, as they soared over them. She thought of Charles Lindbergh and what it must have been like to be a pioneer in aviation and to be among a small number of observers who viewed such sights from a small plane.
Irene tried to reach for her tote bag, which was tucked under the seat in front of her. She wasn’t having much success.
“Here, I’ll get it for you.” Carissa pulled out the bag and handed it to her. “Are you going to do a last-minute review of your notes?”
“Yes. Can you hand me the binder? I want to make sure I have everything in order. I didn’t recheck it last night.”
Irene took the binder from Carissa and opened to the first page. “What’s this?”
“Is it the right binder?”
“Yes, but …oh, that man!”
Carissa looked at the paper that occupied the first-page position in Irene’s binder of history notes. While Carissa didn’t want to pry, she saw writing in the form of a poem, which made it doubly difficult for her to not want to invite herself to read it.
Irene held the binder closer and read slowly, her lips moving as she read through the poem.
“Oh, that man,” she repeated. Then she patted her moist cheeks with the palm of her hand. “When did he manage to slip that in there?”
“What is it?”
“It’s a poem. He started it years ago and never finished it. He apparently found the ending that had eluded him all these years. When I wasn’t looking, he put it in the binder. Oh, that man.”
The tears came back in a steady stream, as Irene held out the binder to Carissa.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You’ll appreciate it.”
Carissa felt as if she were being offered a glimpse of what two hearts look like after sharing life together for fifty-two years.
A Touch of Paradise
A touch of paradise is all I ask
To lift my spirit high.
A trade-wind breeze about my knees
A gray dove’s gentle cry.
The push of a swim, the burning sun
Fish beneath the sea
Love was there and friends were there
To keep me company.
Sun-flecked blue, fishnet globe,
Buoyant in the ocean’s foaming swell
Awesome breakers consuming coral reefs,
A story long to tell.
Starlit nights with tropic song
That dances to its grace
The strings of life come pulsing back
To show my Father’s face.
And when it’s gone my heart will ache
For Islands’ perfumed air
May I walk with you again,
Wild jasmine in your hair?
Now Carissa was teary-eyed, too. She reached over and slipped her hand into Irene’s. Such love. Such a beautiful reward for a lifetime of faithfulness. She could picture Irene as a young woman with wild jasmine in her hair. She could see Dan walking with her on the beach hand in hand.
“It’s beautiful,” Carissa said quietly.
“I know.”
As the plane was coming in for a landing in Honolulu, Carissa thought of Richard. She wanted to believe their marriage could be A Touch of Paradise after fifty-two years as well.
The two women waited for most of the plane to empty before Irene got her cane in place and started down the aisle. They were greeted at the exit by a petite blonde woman who was wearing a beautiful purple floral mu‘umu‘u. She held two intricate yellow leis and presented the first one to Irene with hugs and kisses and much aloha.
Irene introduced Carissa to Catherine, and the sweet woman presented Carissa with the other lei. Catherine’s warm greeting was followed by a kiss into the air next to Carissa’s cheek.
“I’m so glad you were able to come, Carissa.” Catherine was already in motion, walking toward the parking lot. “This is going to be such an honor for our students. I don’t know if Irene explained to you that I’m a teacher at the school. I met Irene at a luncheon for an organization we belong to, the Daughters of Hawai’i. That was several years ago. I have been so eager to have her come talk to our students.”
Carissa tried to slow down the pace because she was sure Irene was having difficulty keeping up.
“We’ll meet with Kahu Kalama first. He’s our chaplain. He’ll offer the invocation for the chapel and introduce you, Irene. You’ll have thirty-five minutes for your presentation. If we have time afterward, we would love to have questions and answers, but if there’s not time, that’s okay.”
“Did you receive a copy of my notes?” Irene asked.
“Yes. I gave copies of the summary to all the teachers, and they were very appreciative. It looks like it’s going to be a fantastic talk. I can’t remember anyone ever coming to talk about Ka’ahumanu. The students are in for quite a treat, I’m sure.”
“How many students will come to the assembly?” Carissa asked.
“We have two assemblies with about 450 to 500 students in each. You’ll have a twenty-minute break in between.” She unlocked the door of her car with the remote keypad and opened the front passenger’s door for Irene.
As they drove away from the airport, one of the first big differences Carissa noticed between Maui and Oahu was that Oahu had freeways with overpasses and on-ramps. It felt like a different place from Maui, even though the terrain and foliage of the two islands were the same.
“Do you need anything?” Catherine asked. “We’ll have water for you up at the podium. And we have some snacks in the back room. But let me know if either of you would like anything else. Kahu Kalama wanted to meet with you first. We start right on time at the school so it’s great that your flight was on time.”
The approach to the school grounds was breathtaking. The campus was spread out across a deep green hillside with amazing views all the way to the ocean. When they drove past the guard booth, Carissa felt as if she were being invited onto the private grounds of an expansive resort. This wasn’t the sort of school ground she had ever seen before. Catherine explained how the land, more than six hundred acres, had been donated by a member of Hawaiian royalty, Princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop. Her request was that the land be used for a school for native Hawaiian children and that children from all the islands board at the school.
Kahu Kalama, an older man with glasses, was warm and friendly and expressed his appreciation to Irene for coming. As the four of them crowded into his back office, the dark-haired chaplain said, “Irene, I have a special gift I want to give you.” He picked up a rectangular-shaped box from his desk and handed it to her.
Before she opened the box he said, “When I started here as a chaplain almost thirty years ago, this was given to me. I was told that one day I would pass it on to another who would bring light to our people. Please, open it.”
Irene lifted the lid on the box and took out a lei made of what looked like shiny black nuts strung with faded yellow ribbon. Strung in between each black nut was a very small box that looked as if it were made from woven grass.
“The boxes represent gifts, and of course, as you know, the kukui nu
ts were the source of oil for ancient Hawaiian lamps so the nuts represent light. Irene, you are using your gift of story to bring light to our people. One day you, too, will pass this lei on to another.”
He held out his hands, and Irene gave him the lei. In turn, he placed it over her head. For the second time that morning Carissa watched as the demure woman received a gift that touched Irene’s heart and caused her to cry. She looked radiant. Radiant and ready to give the students a beautiful story.
Carissa felt honored to be part of all this. They were ushered into the front of the Bishop Chapel that was built in the heart of the campus in 1988. The huge chapel was like nothing Carissa had ever seen. The walls and the pews were made of dark wood and polished to such a shine it almost looked as if they were wet or covered with a coat of clear gloss. The rounded shape of the chapel gave Carissa the feeling of being safe and covered. Held in the hollow of God’s hand.
The students were arriving with surprisingly hushed voices. Their respect added to the feeling of sacredness inside the chapel. All of them wore uniforms.
When the chapel was full, the chaplain stepped to the podium and said something in Hawaiian. Immediately all the students stood, making very little noise. Carissa helped Irene up, and they stood with their hands folded in front of them. The chaplain spoke again in Hawaiian, and one of the students, a young man, came and stood beside him. Squaring his shoulders, the young man raised his voice and spoke several lines in Hawaiian, projecting the words over the heads of the other students.
They responded by chanting back to him in unison. It was beautiful. Like a wave of words rushing forward and then receding, waiting for the lone call of the young man onstage. A second time the students spoke together in harmony, pressing their response forward to the front and pulling back on the last few words.
Carissa felt her heart beating faster. It was as if the words had covered her, like the ocean, pulling her all the way into this moment and immersing her in a sense of being drawn in and welcomed to this experience.
Kahu Kalama spoke again, and everyone was seated. Irene was introduced, and with only a little help, she made her way up to the front. Earlier she had been fitted with a lapel mike, which Carissa now saw was a good idea because, since Irene was so petite, the podium would have hidden her completely, if she stood behind it. This way she could stand next to the podium and keep her hand on it for support.