Paradise for a Sinner (22 page)

Lastly, the pastor held up a set of car keys and scanned the congregation for an explanation. Sammy Tau rose and in a booming voice announced, “An early wedding gift that I give to the church, a new Jeep.” Many clapped.

Sitting across the aisle, Winnie watched Pala’s mouth drop open, clamp shut, and resume its serenity. Beside her, Adam stirred.

He stood leaving a large gap in the row. “I want to donate a proper bell tower to each church. They will not fit in the collection plate.”

The members of the congregation, and the
matai
who served as deacons, chuckled and showed thigh-slapping approval. Casting a triumphant stare on Sammy whose face had darkened with anger, Adam resumed his seat. Winnie suspected if he had been playing poker, he would have said, “I’ll see that Jeep, and raise you a million bucks.”

She whispered in his ear, “Where did that idea come from?”

“My generous nature.”

She could not deny that. He’d built an entire beach for her and left it for handicapped children to enjoy, but she strongly suspected his hatred of Sammy Tau propelled this offer. So much for absorbing the peace and love message of the sermon. Both men ignored it. The service ended, and on to another spread of food that made Winnie wish for a dress with an elastic waistband. No wonder every one of the big eaters preferred a lava-lava for most occasions. The rest of Sunday, she spent in a heavy meal-induced nap swinging gently in a shaded hammock because any other action on the holy day was frowned upon by patrolling
matai
.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Monday morning Winnie kept her promise to the village nurses to let one of them have the day off. Good thing she made her own plans because Adam had risen from his bed on the porch and gone to the communal garden to spend his day hoeing weeds and picking vegetables and fruits. She passed Sammy Tau back in his
musu
position
on her way to the clinic. He spared her no greeting, not that she minded.

Helping with well-baby checks, Winnie soon learned her lectures on infant nutrition went unappreciated. In Samoan eyes, a fat baby meant a healthy baby, no changing their minds. She administered scheduled shots and kept her mouth shut about the rest. Her fellow nurse whose meals and housing the village provided waved her back to the Malalas for lunch. Adam had not returned from the plantation, though it appeared most of the gardeners were done for the day judging by the number of people lounging up and down the street. Noa encouraged her to help herself to anything in the house. His wife had gone to an aerobics class at the church hall. Now, that would be a sight to see—so much jiggling flesh bouncing to some lively exercise tune. Frankly, she still felt full from Sunday lunch and only nibbled her meal.

As she prepared to return to her volunteer work, Adam arrived bearing a huge basket overflowing with taro, breadfruit, and a few purple eggplants, as well as carrying over one broad shoulder a bunch of bananas big enough to feed every monkey in the San Diego zoo. Winnie doubted if most men could have lifted his burden let alone hauled it back to the village. Ela, her lighter skin heavily flushed from exercise, came up behind him and immediately began berating her son.

“What did he do wrong?” she asked Noa.

“Again, too much food for our household. She says he must offer it around the village. His excess embarrasses her.”

Still, Ela rooted in the basket, choosing some choice taro and breadfruit, claiming the eggplants as well as removing a hand of bananas from the bunch for their dinner before waving Adam away to distribute the largess. He failed to meet Winnie’s sympathetic eyes as he went, but she noted he did pause to sling a few bananas into Sammy Tau’s lap. If the word the
musu
man uttered meant “thanks,” it came out sounding more like a curse.

Not knowing when Adam would return, she went back to her work at the clinic, but the only crisis of the day involved a cut requiring a tetanus shot and a bandage provided while the other nurse conducted a class in diabetes management. The disease flourished in the village since the introduction of junk food into the Samoan diet and their great regard for size and feasting, trim Nurse Talo told her.

“Country people,” Talo snorted. “They like fleshy women, and don’t want to change their ways. I’m far too thin for the men around here. Frankly, I am surprised Adam Malala prefers you over the local women, but then, he has been more exposed to American culture.” Again, Winnie wondered if Adam would ultimately decide to follow his mother’s wishes and take a village bride, but she did figure the lack of interest in Nurse Talo had more to do with her sharp tongue than her build.

Her companion killed the last few hours of the day paging through a lurid movie magazine that certainly reinforced the idea of foreign women being loose. As the regular afternoon rain poured down, her fellow nurse yammered on about getting her free day off tomorrow thanks to Winnie. She planned to be at the head of the trail waiting for the earliest bus in the morning to go get her delicious scoop of American civilization. Talo pumped Winnie on opportunities for nurses stateside and hinted she wouldn’t mind seeing New Orleans, showing no less enthusiasm for the idea when Winnie revealed she currently lived with her sister three hours from the big city. Relieved when the day ended, she went back to the house and helped Ela make a large chop suey with rice for dinner, which Adam ate with little appetite, a first for him since they’d met.

In the evening, Winnie sat in the porch rocker again, and Adam, head lowered in his hands, hunched on the front steps not saying a word. “You’re not going all
musu
on me, are you?” Winnie asked.

His grin flashed in the twilight. “Where did you learn about
musu
?”

“From your mother and the living example of Sammy Tau. I really don’t understand how one man can choose not to work and you do and get chewed out for it.”

“You see, I work too hard. I show ambition and pride in what I accomplish. Here, this is wrong. Maybe my mother is correct. I am too accustomed to the cheers of the crowd, to having fans and plenty of money to fit in here anymore. Maybe I never did. Looking back it seems those six boys sent to Pago Pago for school were the ones who were different. Davita had an early religious vocation that made him stand out. Sammy and me excelled at sports, Pisa and Pati at schoolwork. Poor Losi, how he could sing and dance as well as paint. The
matai
sent us out into the world where we could use our talents—and send money home.”

Winnie’s rocker creaked lightly against the porch floor. “That seems very calculating.”

“Or very wise. The village benefits, and we don’t upset the
fa’a Samoa
.”

“To be honest, I don’t think I could live the
fa’a Samoa
either.” She hadn’t meant it as anything more than a sympathetic comment, but Adam’s head snapped up.

“Who asked you to?”

“I didn’t mean that in any special way. I know I am an outsider here, one who doesn’t fully understand. Your people are generous and hospitable, the islands gorgeous especially in places like this where the old ways hold, but I feel so out of place. I should leave soon and let you figure out what you want to do without my hanging on you.”

“You don’t hang on me. Winnie, you anchor me to the wider world. You should go inside now before I am tempted to forget my good intentions and take you for another romp in the bushes.”

She leaned toward him from her rocker. “I would like that.”

But, one of the younger
matai
who took turns patrolling the village approached before she could deliver a forbidden kiss. He carried a little boy sporting a huge shiner that closed one of his round dark eyes. The child’s nose ran with snot down to a split lip.

“
Malo,
Adam. Raro Ulu got a little heavy-handed with his spare the rod and spoil the child beliefs tonight. Your family has plenty of room. Can you take him for a while?”

“Sure, my mother will see to him.”

The
matai
walked right in to deliver this unexpected guest. Winnie, wide-eyed, said, “Does this happen often?”

“Often enough. A parent can chastise a disrespectful child, but the child belongs to the village. The chiefs move them around or the child might go to another home on its own. Someone might just scoop him up and house him. Our friend, Lita, could move out and stay with someone else, but I suspect she enjoys embarrassing her sister no matter what the consequences.”

Winnie shook her head in wonder. “As a junior
matai
, Sammy Tau does this, walks around saving little children? Maybe I should have more respect for him.”

“Save your respect. I know Sammy too well. He was lazy in his football training, cut all the practices he could and still stay on the team. I’m surprised he had the ambition to steal Pala. When his turn comes to patrol, he most likely finds a hidden place to sleep.”

“I’ll go in and make sure the child has nothing broken.”

“I think you should. I really think you should.”

****

Tuesday, Winnie reported to the clinic early knowing Nurse Talo would be on her way to Pago Pago by now. Lua, the second nurse, thanked her profusely for the day off. Her courtship had progressed to the point of wedding planning, and Samoan weddings evidently put the biggest Hollywood bash to shame. Two gowns were required, one for the ceremony and one for the reception, and at least a three-tiered cake with side cakes for the important guests. Lua shared all the details until they were interrupted by the entry of Lila Tomanaga leaning on her husband’s arm. They arrived in the Jeep despite the short distance between the minister’s mansion and the clinic.

“Her pains began a couple of hours ago, not too strong yet,” Davita told them.

“We will take good care of her, pastor.” Lua steered the pregnant woman to an inner room and waved him back to caring for his flock.

“Do we call someone to take her to the hospital?” Winnie inquired.

“No, no. We have a birthing room. Women have been giving birth for a thousand years on this island—and without clean sheets and an IV drip. I have my midwifery license. We just keep her comfortable until the child comes.”

At first, they entertained Lila with wedding talk, and she recounted hers to Davita, a grand thirty-pig affair with a multitude of fine mats traded between the families. That topic ran thin around noon when Winnie took a short lunch break. Leaving the house, she nearly tripped over the battered boy playing happily on the Malala’s porch with another child, his older brother who had decided to move in as well. A little girl napped on Adam’s mattress. No explanation about her. At this rate, they would be up to the Lorena Ranch child count in no time at all. She went back to her duties stunned again by the ease and yet the deep responsibilities of the
fa’a Samoa
.

As Lila’s labor progressed, Winnie rubbed the rippling belly with fragrant oil and massaged the woman’s back to ease the pain. Some of Davita’s female relatives came to visit and talk above the tightening mound in the bed. They got in the way but did provide a distraction.

Dinner came and went with Lila existing on ice chips to suck. She progressed slowly into the night. Winnie stayed by her side. Lua showed her patient how to breathe as the pains intensified, but the last hour came punctuated with outright screams.

“Good, let it out if you need to,” Lua encouraged.

The shrieks did not comfort Reverend Tomanaga, haggard in the waiting area, but at last his eight-pound son came into the world at 2:35 a.m. He thanked Lua and Winnie, but his wife most profusely. The nurses cleaned up both the mother and baby and settled them in for the rest of the night. Lua intended to stay at the clinic until morning when she thought Lila could go home. She encouraged both Davita and Winnie to leave and get some sleep. They went out into the night together.

“Allow me to escort you to Adam’s house,” the pastor offered most gallantly.

“It isn’t that far and even the village dogs know me by now,” Winnie answered, seeing how wrung out the man was as if he’d gone through labor himself. “Besides, you have virtually no crime here.” Still, she let him walk beside her under that vast arc of the Milk Way through the silent village.

“Oh, we have quick-tempered men and domestic disputes, but rarely anything else. Still, I’ve heard rumors lately that a
moetotolo
might be on the loose.”

Winnie laughed at the strange word. “Is this like a
loup-garou
in Louisiana? A werewolf tale to keep children in their beds at night.”

“Hardly. The term does come from olden days when everyone slept in open-sided
fale.
The
moetotolo
is a night creeping rapist who molests young women in their beds.”

Winnie raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Seems that would be hard to do with an entire family sleeping in one room. Wouldn’t the woman cry out or at least report the rape after it happened?”

“Well, there used to be much more honor attached to virginity, so a girl might not want to report such a thing and spoil her chances at a good marriage.”

“Not so much today.”

They neared the Malala house where Winnie expected to see Adam snoring on his outdoor mattress for the sake of her own honor. The web of mosquito netting held nothing. He must have given up and gone inside for a better rest. She turned to thank the pastor at the foot of the steps when screams tore open the peace of the village and people ripped from slumber stumbled outside to search for the source.

At first, Winnie turned toward the clinic thinking Lila might be suffering complications, but no, the solid walls of the clinic would have muffled any such cries. The piercing shrieks issued from the direction of the beach. She and Davita ran in that direction with the rest of the crowd, not knowing what they would find. The screams stopped very suddenly leaving the rescuers without a direction. Several
matai
bearing clubs large enough to crack a skull shouted to the others to return home. They would search the beach.

Davita said, “We should leave this to them, Winnie. The
matai
handle most of the problems in the village without going to the police, and this might turn out to be nothing but the young people playing a prank.”