Ocean: The Awakening (14 page)

For a long time, Kimo and Ealani stood over the body, where it lay so peacefully on the bed, with the covers drawn neatly up to the chest, and the fisherman’s large, calloused hands clasped on his stomach. The pain that Kimo had previously noticed in his father’s features was gone, having left when the soul departed the body, and it gave the younger man some degree of comfort. At least Tiny Pohaku was no longer suffering.

“He was a good man,” Ealani said. “I knew that from the moment I met him, and I saw it in him every day of our lives together. I cherish every moment I spent with him.”

The mother and son spoke of wonderful experiences they’d had with Tiny, and sometimes the two of them just fell silent together, as if sharing private thoughts without speaking them.

When they emerged into the waiting room almost two hours later, Alicia was still waiting. She stood and said, her voice breaking, “I’m very sorry for your terrible loss. Many people in town have told me what a nice man he was. He was extremely well-liked.”

“Yes, he was,” Ealani said. “Thank you for being with us, with Kimo.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Alicia said. She looked first at Kimo, then at Ealani, and said, “I don’t know how to put this into words, so please forgive me if you feel I’m out of place, but I must say something, I must
offer
something.”

Ealani looked at her quizzically.

“I, uh, I know how hard your husband fought to get his family’s land back. I know what it meant to him, and what it must mean to you.” She paused, as if summoning more courage.

What is she going to say?
Kimo wondered.

“This may not be something you want to decide on now,” Alicia said, “but if you’d like, I could arrange for a ceremony in honor of him, on the land that used to belong to the Pohaku family.”

“But what would your grandfather say about that?” Kimo asked.

“He will not know, at least not in time to do anything about it. The parcel is out of the way and up-slope, not visible from the hotel, and there is a separate dirt road accessing it, as well as trails through the jungle and the bamboo forest. I am very familiar with the area, so I know.”

“You would do that for us?” Ealani said. Tears streamed down her face. Kimo felt stunned.

“I would do more if I could. I would give the land back to you.”

Ealani wiped her eyes, and said, “Truly, child, this is a wonderful thing you are offering. Could we possibly spread his ashes there?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said, “but it was not my place to say it.”

Kimo and his mother put their arms around Alicia, and held her for a long time. Such generosity from an Ellsworth was not something his family had expected.

An hour later, in the privacy of the small Pohaku home, the three of them made plans over a meal of fish chowder, prepared with mahimahi, salt pork, potatoes, and onions, as Tiny used to like it.

The sea could be harvested for human consumption, Kimo knew, because he ate a range of things from the water. It was just a matter of doing it properly, of adding human beings to the food chain of creatures that preyed on one another—and not giving humans any unfair advantage over the other predators of the sea.

When Kimo went to bed that night, he fell asleep quickly. And similar to his last vivid dream, featuring a small girl at a barred window, he began to perceive new images that were startlingly real—showing face after face, men and women of all races in clear focus, talking to one another, going about their various jobs.

They were experts in various aspects of oceanography, out at sea on scientific research ships, or working in laboratories, or professors speaking to their classes about the ocean, as well as ichthyologists who knew a great deal about fish, and environmental activists putting their ships in the way of large commercial fishing factories and shouting at the crews with bullhorns to ward them off. In a kaleidoscope of specialized ocean professions, he saw snorkelers and deep sea divers in their gear, and whale rescue operations, and men and women working at aquatic parks and aquariums, where crowds of visitors came to see the animals.

For all of the workers, he learned something of their personal histories—and knew they were good people who cared about the sea and the creatures and plant organisms that lived in it. He learned their first names, but no last names or locations, nothing to help him find out if these were real human beings or mere figments of his dreaming imagination.

Finally, at the end of the spectrum of faces, he saw the elfin teenager at the barred window again—and this time he had a first name for her—Gwyneth. But nothing more, except he sensed again how very upset she was about the plight of the ocean, and how much she wanted to escape her confinement.

Kimo awoke, and even though he didn’t think the dream had any relationship with reality, he still felt compelled to write down ninety-four first names that remained clear in his recollection—along with whatever information he could remember about each person, including details from his first dream involving the girl at the window.

When he finally set down the pen and notepad and switched off the light, he marveled at the two dreams, and at the remarkable extent of his memory about them—name after name, and detail after detail had remained in his mind. The dreams had seemed so vivid and real. But were they inhabited by actual people who might help him in his pursuits, or were they nothing but the random, scattered thoughts of a sleeping man? He could not find out, one way or the other. There were no surnames, and not enough other details.

Gradually, Kimo fell back asleep, having convinced himself that this dream, and the one before it, were nothing more than the wild ramblings of a fatigued, deeply troubled mind.

***

Chapter 26

“I don’t want any more squabbling between you and Alicia,” the Ellsworth patriarch said, as he drove his Jeep too fast on the bumpy Wanaao Road. Beside him, his nervous grandson Jeff held onto the ceiling strap, not saying anything, but he seemed to be afraid, despite his experience as an Army pilot. It made the old man wonder if the military decorations Jeff had been awarded had been deserved.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Preston demanded.

“Sure. My sister and I need to get along better.”

“Why do you keep trying to undermine her?”

“I think she’s been doing that to me.”

“Then why doesn’t Alicia ever say anything bad about you to me, while you’re always trying to get your digs in against her?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Glancing over, he saw Jeff’s lips quiver, and his knees knocking together in nervousness. The stocky, younger man was not good at concealing his emotions.

“I may be old, but I’m still quite observant, and I want you to change your attitude toward her. I don’t have time to list everything you’ve said and done that’s detrimental, but this family has enough problems without having it come apart from the inside. Our hotel should be filled at this time of year, but we’re down more than seventeen percent. The word is getting out about what’s happening on the beaches, and I need you and Alicia working with me as a family unit to protect and advance our resort operations.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

The old man patted his grandson on the shoulder. “I know you will. I want you to think of Alicia as your
ally
against all the forces outside,
not
as your enemy, or even as your competitor. Have you heard the old Chinese proverb of a bundle of sticks? One stick can be broken easily, but not a bunch of them?”

“No,” Jeff admitted. “But I understand what you’re saying. We’re stronger as a family if we stick together.”

“Your lesson of the day.”

He stared at Jeff, noting one of the fancy designer shirts he often wore, along with the gold chain and gold watch, which made Preston wonder how he could afford such things. He’d asked, and Jeff had said a friend got them from over-extended tourists who sold them for travel expenses, and in turn he sold them to Jeff at cost. Maybe that was true, and if so it meant Jeff was making good use of his modest salary. But reportedly he led quite a night life too, on the other side of the island. Sometimes the old man wondered if his grandson was actually earning money on the side, and if he was, it had better be legal. He’d told Jeff exactly that in a forceful tone, and had been assured that he had nothing to worry about. Even so, sometimes he worried anyway.

For the rest of the afternoon, they inspected work that divers were completing at Olamai, Ha’ini, and other beaches on the Ellsworth Ranch, setting up state-of-the art underwater barricades and electronics to keep out sharks, barracudas, and stingrays, as well as jellyfish, stonefish and other smaller creatures that were potentially deadly to swimmers. Preston Ellsworth had also funded similar measures to protect other beaches around Wanaao Town—more than a dozen in all—in an effort to convince tourists that it was again safe to swim in the area.

But at the end of the day, as the old man drove back to the ranch, he had a sinking feeling that his efforts were like trying to hold back the tide, that the forces of the sea were too powerful to stop, and his countermeasures would have little or no effect against them.

***

Chapter 27

It was late afternoon, the second day after Tiny Pohaku’s death. Alicia had suggested this time of day for his ceremony, so that it would not be necessary to use lights that might attract the attention of her grandfather. The invited guests were sworn to secrecy beforehand, and had arrived on foot or by vehicle, with the times of vehicle passage staggered, so as not to draw notice. They were at the northern edge of the Ellsworth Ranch, on a knoll where a sturdy Pohaku family home had stood more than a hundred years ago, affording a commanding view of the sea.

None of her grandfather’s ranch buildings were visible from here, and she saw only a few horses and cows on the steeply sloped land, in the midst of palm and
kamani
trees, and a magnificent wide-branched banyan tree that had stood for centuries, shading the livestock on hot days. The great tree looked capable of being there long after everyone Alicia knew was gone.

That morning, Ealani had obtained the ashes of her beloved husband from the funeral home, in an urn that had been made by a friend who was a potter. The brown clay urn, which she held as she stood with Kimo and Alicia, bore a fish design on one side and the image of a small outrigger canoe on the other—representing the perilous voyage his ancestors took from Tahiti to Hawaii in the 18
^th
century.

For security purposes, there were only twenty-eight invited guests, though far more would have come, had they been invited. Ealani and Kimo planned to hold a larger ceremony the following day, on the waterfront estate of J.D. Covert, a wealthy landowner who used to purchase fish from Tiny for his upscale restaurant in town. There would be no ashes spread tomorrow, but the empty urn would be present. So would Alicia Ellsworth, because Kimo had invited her.

Now one of Ealani’s cousins, Uki Mikaho, began to strum a guitar, a soft melody he had composed for this occasion. Alicia was impressed that he had come up with such a beautiful piece of music so quickly, and knew he had been inspired by his love of the departed Tiny, who had meant so much to so many people.

Alicia knew Uki from his work as a popular musician at the hotel. Normally outgoing and talkative, he was a font of Hawaiian songs and legends, and had produced half a dozen tapes of his own original music, for sale in the gift shop. Now he looked quite subdued, and near tears. Alicia, dressed in a colorful Hawaiian skirt and blouse, looked around at the racially mixed group, noting that they all wore their Sunday best, and some had leis of fresh plumeria blooms around their necks, as she did herself. She smelled the sweetness of the bouquets, floating on a soft, warm breeze.

At a signal from Ealani, Uki stopped strumming, and everyone stood silently. Some of the women sobbed softly.

“My husband was a very special man,” Ealani began, “not only to me, but to each of you. Everyone who came in contact with him loved him.” She paused, and smiled. “Well, almost everyone.”

A wave of gentle laughter carried through the guests, because she was referring to the owner of this land. The crying women grew quiet, as everyone thought of fond memories about the man who had passed on to the spirit world.

In a voice breaking with emotion, Puka Charlie, the one-armed soldier from the mainland, told of a time Tiny had helped him build his house, and refused to accept any payment at all, even though Tiny paid for some of the building materials himself. “This man who did not own a house helped me build mine,” Puke Charlie said. “He was the most generous person I ever met.”

A beefy Hawaiian man told of a time he was fishing with Tiny and two other men, when a big wave swamped their boat and damaged the inboard motor. Tiny kept his wits about him, never panicked, and made them all laugh as they got the pumps going and kept the craft afloat. The large man smiled at the recollection. “Tiny said to me, ‘We are not meant to drown on this day, or Ealani would have warned me not to go out, so don’t worry, we’ll make it.’ And sure enough, we were rescued an hour later by a passing sailboat.”

When he was finished, Ealani told of her husband’s last request, spoken to her only a few weeks ago when he knew he did not have long to live. “He asked us all to celebrate his life, and not to feel sadness. I know that is hard because we miss him so much, but it is what he wanted.”

She motioned toward Uki Mikaho, and he began strumming the guitar again, louder this time. “This is a special tune that Tiny loved,” he said, “about fishermen going out to sea.”

Tears streamed down Uki ‘s cheeks as he sang a beautiful, melodic song in the native Hawaiian language, the words of which Alicia could not understand, but she did not have to. The sentiment and emotion overflowed from his powerful voice, bringing more tears to the assembled mourners, including Alicia.

Kimo reached out, and took her hand. With a gentle smile, he said, “No sadness, remember? No tears.”

She smiled in return, thought he looked very handsome in his best Hawaiian shirt, white jacket, and white trousers. He even wore shoes for a change.

Uki finished the lyrics of the song, but continued strumming softly.

Ealani opened the urn and gazed out upon the great blue ocean, where her husband used to fish in small boats, proving his bravery many times in rough waters. Even from this distance, Alicia could see waves crashing against the black lava shore, shooting fountains of white spray high in the air. She could not imagine a more beautiful place than this leeward shore of Loa’kai island.

The old woman walked several paces down the grassy slope toward the water. When she was still a good distance from the shore, she stopped to scatter the ashes on the land. Hitting the air they were lifted on a gust of wind, swirled around for several seconds and then fell across the ancestral property like a gentle gray rain, this land that Tiny had fought so hard to regain for his family.

“Now he has his land back,” Ealani said in a breaking voice, keeping her back to the gathering. “At last, my husband has his land back. His spirit will dwell here forever, for all eternity.”

When the ceremony was over and everyone was dispersing, Kimo and Alicia walked together along a narrow dirt road, heading for the turnout where she had parked her car. It was twilight, and some of the stars were becoming visible around a cloud cover.

After making sure no one could listen in, Kimo said to her, “With your gracious gift to us, you have earned the right to know something about my family. About me, actually.”

He told her of his unusual birth in the sea, and of the tropical fish and other creatures that had been his first companions, and about Moanna, the Sea Goddess who dwelled in a spectacular, enchanted realm in the depths of the sea—an entity that was an amorphous red glow, a deity without form. Alicia listened, not saying a word, trying very hard to believe him.

When they reached the small imported car and stood by it, he said, “Do you think I am crazy for saying such things?”

“No, of course not.”

“You believe me, then?”

She narrowed her gaze. “I’m not sure. You must admit, it is a remarkable tale. And your tattoos? Were you born with them?”

He grinned. “No, a friend in Honolulu does them for me, using black
kakui
dye—from the candlenut tree.”

She nodded, and in the waning light she stared at the exquisitely drawn and colored marlin on the back of his right hand. “He’s quite an artist.”

“I think so, too. Come over here.” Then, taking her hand, he rubbed her fingers along the skin behind one of his ears, and then behind the other. “Gills,” he said. “I have gills. That’s why I can stay underwater so long. You didn’t lose sight of me beyond the waves. I dove underwater like you said, and didn’t come up for a long time because I don’t need to surface for air.”

“Gills? But how?”

“To me, they are like any other part of my body. I don’t know exactly how I got them, except I was given them shortly after birth by Moanna. It is not such a stretch to accept this. In the womb of a pregnant human woman, every embryo contains evidence of ancient gills, a residue of millions of years of evolution, going back to the time when our primitive ancestors swam in the sea.”

“You’re a throwback, then?”

“A throwback? Like a fish that gets thrown back in the water, you mean?”

She told him what she meant, that he was like ancient humans who emerged from the ocean with gills and began to walk on the land.

He laughed at his own ignorance. “I mostly know things about the sea, my family, and Wanaao Town.” Then he went on to astound her even more by saying he had a swim bladder in his body and a strong bone and cell structure that enabled him to dive to the deepest part of the ocean without equipment, and an enhanced arterial system that kept his body warm even in the extreme cold water of great depths. While she listened in disbelief he also said he could detect sounds in the water that were beyond the hearing range of normal human beings, and that he didn’t need to consume the foods that normal people ate, because he could forage in the seas for underwater plants, sediment worms, sea snails, phytoplankton, and zooplankton, along with small fish—all of which he could eat raw.

She looked at him askance, wondering when he would admit that it was all a joke. But he didn’t, and said to her, “It’s not well-known that there are a number of sea creatures that are parasitical to coral reefs—some species of fish, crustaceans, worms, and starfish—so I’ve been known to eat them, too.”

“I’ve heard of surviving in wilderness forests by eating worms and ants,” she said as they got in the car, “but I never thought of doing it in the sea. At least, I never thought of humans doing it.”

“It doesn’t bother you that I eat worms? And starfish?”

“No, why should it?”

He smiled. “Good. Our relationship isn’t over on the spot. Besides, I eat normal human food some of the time. It’s just that I have other options.”

As they drove away, Alicia switched on the headlights. “Shall we go swimming in Crimson Cove?” she asked. “I’d like you to demonstrate what you’ve been telling me.”

“Now?”

She looked up through the windshield, at the sky. “It’s pretty dark, but I have a flashlight in the glove box.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Soon they were using the flashlight to negotiate the narrow trail that led to the cove. Kimo held her hand tightly, protectively.

“I hope your batteries don’t go dead,” Kimo said.

“You don’t know the trail well enough to get us back out?”

“Maybe I do, but I don’t want to risk you falling off the edge. We might have to stay out here until dawn.”

Alicia understood what he meant by that, didn’t care if the batteries went dead and they had to spend the night together. Even if he was kidding about his abilities in the sea, she still liked him. A lot.

They crossed over a wide, flat rock at the base of the trail, an area above the high tide line. By the time they reached the beach, some of the palms were illuminated with phosphorescence that had sprayed from the water. This, and the starlight, provided enough illumination for them to turn off the flashlight. At the water’s edge, Kimo looked at her and asked, “Shall I look the other way while you get into your swimsuit?”

She giggled. “All right.”

Each of them looked away while they removed their clothing, and then jumped in the water. “I haven’t skinny dipped since I was ten years old,” she said, as they swam side by side in the water, which was warmer than the night air.

“You’re not ten anymore. I peeked.”

She splashed water at him.

“Now watch,” he said. “I’m going to dive and stay under for at least forty minutes. That should be long enough to prove I can breathe underwater. The world record for a normal human holding his breath is far less than that.”

And then he was gone, leaving no more than a ripple on the dimly-lit water.

After what seemed more like closer to an hour he returned, and splashed her as she sat in shallow, warm water that lapped around her. “There’s your proof,” he said.

“I think you tricked me,” she said. “You just swam away underwater and surfaced where I couldn’t see you in the low light. Admit it!”