Aloha Betrayed (2 page)

“This is the new science building,” Mala said. “My appointment is in here.” She smiled softly. “I’m so happy you’re here. Uncle Barrett would have loved to meet you.”

“And I would have loved to meet him, too.”

She sighed. “I hope I get to see you later.”

“Let’s plan on it.”

“Well, the Wailea luau draws several hundred people. It may be hard to locate one person in that crowd.”

“You look for me and I’ll look for you,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll find each other.”

But I was wrong.

A
‘a i Ka Hula; Waiho Ka Hilahila i Ka Hal
e—
Dare to Dance; Leave Shyness at Home

“S
o, Mrs. Fletcher, how do you like Maui?”

“Leave her alone, Abbott. For heaven’s sake. She just got here.”

“I know that, Honi, but it doesn’t take that long to form an opinion.”

“From the little I’ve seen, Professor Luzon, it’s beautiful,” I said while attempting to spoon a Molokai sweet potato onto my plate. The line of diners at the luau curled across the grass, but it moved quickly. Two long buffet tables with both sides offering the same dishes split the line into four columns. I stepped forward to a large stainless chafing dish that held slices of the roast pig that had been disinterred to great fanfare moments earlier. It had been cooked in an underground oven, covered with soil, simulating the methods used by early Polynesians who populated the Hawaiian Islands.

“You must try the salad. The greens are grown right here on Maui, in Kula,” Honi said.

Professor Luzon’s wife had been advising me all along the buffet line, and my plate now held more food than I could possibly eat.

“Did you take some poi?” she asked.

I smiled at her latest suggestion, stepped out of the line, and said, “It all looks wonderful, but I want to leave a little room for dessert. I’ll see you back at the table.”

It was a beautiful, warm night with the sun sinking into the cloudless horizon. Round tables covered in linens that matched the turquoise waters dotted the grassy field, which overlooked the ocean. Earlier in the evening when I arrived, I had been seated at a table directly in front of the stage. My tablemates included the Luzons, whom I estimated to be in their mid-forties. They were accompanied by a young woman named Grace. Across from me was an older couple from Michigan, Bob and Elaine Lowell, celebrating their anniversary; and next to them was a pair of stylish ladies from Santa Barbara, Helen and Marian, whose husbands had declined to attend the luau, preferring to stay on the golf course until the last possible moment and then celebrate their game in the clubhouse bar. The two seats designated for them were left empty.

“It’s nice that you brought your daughter with you,” Elaine Lowell said to Honi. “At that age, our daughter never wanted to be seen with us.” She chuckled.

“We don’t have any children,” Honi said.

“Oh, my mistake, but she looks so much like you.”

“Grace is Abbott’s teaching assistant. She’s a graduate student in environmental science.”

“I can speak for myself, Mrs. Luzon.”

“Well, then, why don’t you,
dear
?”

“I’m Grace Latimer. Abbott and I are working together on a sustainable food production project at Maui College as part of my master’s requirements.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Honi asked.

“Honi, that’s enough,” her husband muttered.

I wondered whether Mrs. Luzon was irritated that Grace called the professor by his first name while maintaining a formal distance from his wife. It was clear they weren’t on the best of terms.

“We’re golf widows tonight,” Marian said, smiling at her companion, “but we’re going to have a great time, aren’t we, Helen?” She took in the others at the table. “We love Maui. This is our fourth luau. It’s always a great show.”

“Marian is hoping one of the sexy male dancers chooses her to come up onstage,” Helen said. “She’s been practicing her hula.”

“I have not,” Marian said, fanning her red face with her hat.

“Lucky us, huh, Abbott?” Bob Lowell commented.

“I beg your pardon,” Luzon replied, peering over the half-glasses he’d put on to read a brochure.

“We’re surrounded by a bevy of lovely ladies. I like the male-to-female ratio at this table.”

“Cut it out, Bob,” his wife said, elbowing him. “You’re going to make people uncomfortable.”

“Why should anyone be uncomfortable? I’m just stating my appreciation for the beauty surrounding me.” He grinned and winked at the golf widows. “And that includes my gorgeous wife here. I bet you’d never guess we’ve been married for fifty years.”

“Oh, Bob!”

“And you’re still smiling,” Honi said with a tight smile herself, although it wasn’t genuine.

“Congratulations,” I said. “What a nice way to mark the occasion.”

“I’ve always wanted to come to Hawaii,” Elaine said. “It was on my bucket list.” She stole a glance at her husband and lowered her voice. “Every time I brought it up, Bob would say, ‘We’ll come for our fiftieth anniversary.’ I don’t think he ever thought we’d make it, but we did. And here we are.”

The musicians onstage began to play a Hawaiian tune and Elaine clapped her hands over her ears. Although our seats were considered a preferred location, they were uncomfortably close to the loudspeakers.

Bob stood and beckoned to Abbott Luzon. “The bar is open and we’re taking orders, aren’t we, Professor?” he shouted over the music. “So, ladies, what would you like?”

Luzon reluctantly got to his feet and pocketed his glasses. “I don’t see how the two of us will be able to carry back all those drinks, Mr. Lowell.”

“It’s Bob, and if we have to, we can make a second trip.”

“I’ll help,” Grace said, hopping up.

Honi rolled her eyes, but I was the only witness to her expression as the others delivered their drink orders to the men.

Bob Lowell wrapped an arm around Grace and pulled her close to him. “Atta girl,” he said. “Come on, we’ll get the drinks for everybody.” He tried to give her a peck on the cheek but she squirmed away from him.

I rose and excused myself. “Thank you,” I said, “but I think I’ll take a little walk before dinner. I’m trying to find a friend. I’ll pick up a drink on the way back.”

Like the other ladies, I was wearing a lei of purple ginger flowers that had been draped around my neck when I arrived at the luau. I also had on a hat with a wide brim, having been cautioned that the glare could make facing the stage uncomfortable until the sun had set.

I wandered around perusing the booths of Hawaiian crafts that were set up on the perimeter of the field: wood carving, basket weaving, and the making of bark cloth, or
kapa
. A photographer had a station offering on-the-spot photos of the guests with the Pacific as a dramatic backdrop. Everywhere I walked, I kept an eye out for Mala Kapule, but as she had predicted, it was hard to locate one person in the crowd of several hundred.

I found a walkway behind the stage and ventured partway down the path, keeping track of the time so I wouldn’t miss the start of the program, although the volume of the music onstage made it unlikely that I wouldn’t be alerted.

The trail was a favorite of walkers, runners, and young couples with baby carriages, making for slow going. Even so, I was entranced by the pounding waves striking the rocky shore fifty feet or more below. Out to sea, boats were silhouetted against a clear sky as the sinking sun created a shimmering golden line on the horizon. Along the path, clumps of tourists paused, hands shading eyes that searched the foamy water around the rocks below.

“I see one,” a little girl cried out.

I followed her gaze to catch a glimpse of the black-and-yellow head of a large sea turtle as it surfaced for a breath of air. It lifted a flipper toward the sky, its body washing against the sharp crags of hardened lava that formed the precipice and jutted into the water.

“They eat the vegetation that grows on those rocks,” the child’s father told her. He kept a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t go any closer. See that sign? It says not to tread too near the edge.”

“What does ‘tread’ mean?”

“It means you can’t step over there where the ground is soft. If it caved in, you would fall down the cliff and into the water and drown.”

“Don’t frighten her,” said a lady next to them, presumably the child’s mother.

“I just want her to know the danger,” he said as they moved on.

A woman’s powerful voice announcing the beginning of the luau floated over the sound of the surf, and I retraced my steps back up the trail. She was explaining the history of the Hawaiian peoples and the significance of the celebration we were attending. I picked up a glass of punch at the bar and returned to my front-row table.

“Did you find your friend?” Elaine asked.

“No, but she’d said it would be difficult with so many people.”

“Who were you looking for?” Honi asked.

“Mala Kapule. She’s a botanist at the college. I’m sure that your husband knows her.”

“I know her,” Honi said before Abbott could respond. “But I don’t see why she would be here. She must have seen dozens of luaus over the years.”

“Her cousin is one of the dancers,” I said, adding, “She wasn’t definite about coming.”

“Then I don’t know why you wasted your time looking,” Honi said tartly.

“Actually, I saw her,” Grace said.

“You did?” I sat taller and scanned the crowd. “Where was she?”

“She was over by the tables in the back near the bar.”

“Did you speak with her?”

“No. I didn’t know you were looking for her. Anyway, we were busy juggling the drink orders, and she . . . well, she was having a serious conversation. I could tell she didn’t want to be interrupted.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

The woman onstage, whose voice had guided me back to the luau from my walk, took the microphone again and recited a prayer in Hawaiian. She was tall, her dark hair swept up in a chignon, with large white flowers pinned behind each ear. She wore a long sarong patterned with blue hibiscus blossoms. Conversation ceased as our attention was directed to the stage.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. During dinner we will be serenading you with more music and hula dancing. And then after dinner, the wonderful journey of
Te Au Moana
, ‘the ocean tide.’ From all of us to all of you,
aloha
and welcome.”

I tasted most of the dishes Honi insisted I try. I don’t know whether it was fatigue—according to my watch it was one in the morning in Cabot Cove—or simply the overabundance of food on my plate, but I had little appetite to finish.

“I’m going up for seconds,” Bob Lowell announced.

“Oh, Bob!”

“Now, Elaine, I’m on vacation. How many times in a lifetime do we get to go to a luau?”

“I hope you won’t be sorry later tonight,” she said. “You know you have a delicate stomach.”

I was surprised to hear there was anything delicate about Bob Lowell. He was a big man with a big voice, and a stomach to match. Elaine’s last observation had been made to his back as he lumbered across the grass to the catering section, to return shortly with another full plate.

Later, once our dinners had been cleared—including Bob’s second round—two bare-chested male dancers walked down the aisles blowing into conch-shell horns to mark the continuation of the performance. Our elegant narrator took the stage again.

“Tonight we unveil the story of Maui, the masterful and mischievous hero who became legend, and for whom our beloved island is named. Maui and his famed mother, Hina, begin this extraordinary journey.”

Ukuleles, guitars, and drums joined the spoken word.

“When I was a young girl, my mother would tell me to gaze into the moon and I would see Hina making her billowing
kapa
, the precious cloth of our people. Folded into it are centuries of stories of Hawaii.”

As she spoke, male dancers wearing
kapa
loincloths and shell pendants appeared, their bodies tattooed with patterns and images that I imagined were reflections of the Maui legends. They were joined by five women, each more striking than the last, wearing grass skirts and dancing the hula to traditional and very loud Hawaiian music.

“How do they move their hips like that?” Elaine asked her husband.

“I’d like to see you do that,” Bob said. “Learn that dance and I’ll get you one of those grass skirts.”

“Oh, Bob!”

“There’s a hula school in Lahaina, up the coast,” Helen put in. “Marian and I took some lessons the last time we came. It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

“Helen practically threw her back out trying to get it right,” Marian said.

“I did not.”

“But I enjoyed myself,” Marian added. “It’s all in the hips. Your feet barely move.”

The sky darkened and the insistent beat of the drums pulsed through my body. With a terrifying scream, one of the male dancers bounded onto the stage, waving a lance with flames blazing on either end. There was a flutter of wings and loud honking as birds rose into the dark sky behind the stage in response to the dancer’s shriek.

“My goodness! What was that?” Elaine said, grabbing her husband’s arm.

Grace leaned over. “Those are francolins,” she said.

“What’s a francolin?”

“They’re birds that nest on the ground. He must have startled them.”

“And they startled
me
,” Elaine said, laughing.

Bob patted her hand.

The smell of burning oil reached our table as one of the dancers strode across the stage, lighting the tiki torches at each corner. Leaping into the air, he passed the pole between his legs and behind his back, then twirled it overhead. I marveled at how he managed not to ignite the dry grass of his costume and headdress.

The dancers appeared and disappeared in a dizzying array of colorful costume changes, the energetic acrobatics of the men alternating with the delicate movements of the women, slowly waving their graceful arms in contrast to the rapid undulation of their hips.

“Isn’t she adorable?” Helen commented about a little Hawaiian girl who’d been called upon by the narrator to demonstrate her considerable skills.

“I might have been that good if I’d started at that age,” Marian said.

“You’re pretty good for a newcomer to the art,” her friend told her.

“Have you ever danced the hula?” Marian asked Grace.

“Grace doesn’t have time for such fripperies,” Honi said, waving her glass in the air. “She’s too busy keeping my husband working late at the laboratory.”

Grace didn’t respond to Honi, but I could see that it was an effort. She kept her eyes focused on Marian and shook her head. “I’m not very graceful, despite my name,” she said with a small smile.