Queen Liliuokalani: Royal Prisoner (13 page)

The ship was a whaler from New Bedford.

“The city that lights the world,” the captain said proudly.

And it was full of whale blubber. Back in New Bedford, the blubber would be turned into oil for lamps. The captain gave Maisie and Felix a bit of it to chew on, like gum. To be polite, Felix tried, but the overwhelming fishiness of it was too gross for him, and when the captain looked away, Felix spit it out.

These sailors, unlike the ones on the
Rambler
, were a jolly crew. They took turns sitting with Maisie and Felix and telling them stories of their adventures catching whales in the South Seas. They showed them the harpoons they used, and explained the best way to throw them.

“You should have been there,” one sailor said, looking dreamily off in the distance. “We harpooned this huge whale, and he took us on a Nantucket
sleigh ride like I’ve never been on in my life.”

“A sleigh ride?” Maisie asked. “In the ocean?”

The sailor laughed. “That’s what we call it when we harpoon a whale and she takes off, dragging the ship along with her.”

Felix smiled at the idea. He would have to remember that one. A Nantucket sleigh ride.

Another sailor brought over a small piece of whalebone and showed them how he carved a picture into it.

“Scrimshaw,” he said. “That’s what it’s called. And I’ll give this to my wife when I get back home. She’ll turn it into a brooch.”

The picture was of a ship on the ocean just like this one.

“You two are from Newport, I heard,” he said.

“That’s right,” Felix said.

“Have you seen the widow’s walks on top of houses by the water there?” the sailor asked.

“I don’t think so,” Felix said.

“Oh,” Maisie said, “do you mean those little things on the roofs?”

“Right,” the sailor said, nodding. “The wives go up there to watch the sea for our ship’s return.”

“Why is it called a widow’s walk?” Maisie asked him.

The man’s smile faded. “I’m afraid too often the ships don’t return.”

“And then the wives—”

“That’s right,” he said. “They become widows.”

He went back to his careful carving. “She’ll like this, my wife will,” he said softly.

Honolulu finally appeared before them.

The crowded harbor was cast in the glow of the setting sun, everything washed in a lavender haze.

Of course, Felix had known that the sun set in the west and rose in the east, but it wasn’t until he’d watched the sun set over the ocean here that he really understood. The sky turned a dozen shades of purple and red, and the sun began to drop like a fiery red ball in the sky. In an instant, it disappeared beneath the horizon, and evening fell over Honolulu.

The
Gloria Jenny
pulled into Honolulu just before that happened. The sky was all those shades of purple, and the sun was red and low above the horizon.

“You two have somewhere to go?” the captain asked Maisie and Felix.

They nodded.

“Thanks for the ride,” Maisie told him.

Felix and the captain shook hands.

“Godspeed,” the captain said.

Felix and Maisie walked off the ship and into the bustle of Honolulu, toward the palace, the crown heavy in Felix’s pocket.

Liliu was moving across the lawn when Maisie and Felix reached the palace.

She looked excited to see them.

“Aloha!” she called to them.

“Aloha,” they answered.

“You’re just in time for the fireworks,” Liliu said, beaming.

“What are you celebrating?” Maisie asked.

“Bernice’s engagement,” Liliu said. She lowered her voice. “She’s marrying a
haole
, so Paki is furious. Still, he arranged the fireworks.”

She motioned for them to follow her around the corner, where all of the
ali‘i
sat, staring up at the sky expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Felix blurted as soon as they sat down.

Liliu looked at him, confused.

From the distance came the sound of explosions.

“For what’s happening here,” Felix continued. “In Hawaii.”

The sky lit up then. Blue and green and red. Not like the pyrotechnics Maisie and Felix were used to, but the colors were still vivid as they splashed across the sky. The air smelled of smoke and sulfur.

“The way the British and the Americans are taking over everything,” he added.

“I am, too,” Liliu said softly.

The three of them watched in silence as the fireworks lit up the sky.

When the fireworks ended, the crowd of revelers applauded wildly.

“Our parents,” Maisie said, “they got divorced. And this whole year all I wanted was my old life back. I know it’s different,” she continued, embarrassed, “but I know a little bit what it feels like to try to hold on to a way of life.”

Felix said, “To hold on when, really, everything is changing.”

Liliu looked at them, her face solemn.

“Don’t let go,” she said. “Always remember the old ways, and what you’ve lost. If you don’t keep it alive, who will?”

Maisie nudged Felix with her elbow.

“Right,” he said.

He pulled the crown from his pocket.

“We brought this for you,” he told Liliu.

“It’s beautiful!” she said, taking it and turning it around and around in her hands. “But why are you giving it to me?”

Maisie and Felix looked at each other.

“It’s yours,” Felix said finally.

Maisie had a strong urge to hug Liliu, but just as she reached her arms out toward her, she and Felix were lifted into the air. And even before they were aware of the smells and sounds around them, they knew: They were going back.

“Y
ou guys still awake?” their father was asking from the doorway.

Maisie and Felix looked at each other.

“Uh…yeah,” Maisie managed to answer.

“Want some ice cream?” their father said.

Felix couldn’t answer. He was still seeing Liliu’s face, her braids hanging down her back, the sky behind her still smoky from the fireworks. He was still smelling the hibiscuses and orange blossoms and orchids.

“Sure,” he heard Maisie say.

“Come on out to the kitchen,” their father told them.

He was looking at them oddly.

“Are you two up to something?” he asked.

That was exactly what Mom would say
, Felix thought. And that thought made him almost cry. Why couldn’t his parents see how alike they were? How right they were for each other?

His parents had gotten married at City Hall with a small group of friends by their side. They had an ivory photo album filled with snapshots, his mother wearing a white shift dress, grinning up at his father, who stood beside her in his trademark blue jeans and a white button-down shirt with a brightly colored tie. They looked happy in those pictures, Felix always thought. It was a sunny June day, and his mother clutched a fat bouquet of yellow sunflowers. After the ceremony, the wedding party had gone to Chinatown and eaten themselves silly at Wo Hop. There were pictures of that, too: his parents holding chopsticks and feeding each other broccoli and dumplings; opening a bottle of champagne, the foam dripping down his father’s hand; his father’s arm casually draped over his mother’s shoulder as he made a toast. In all of them, there was no sign that their love would ever end, that they would get divorced and find new people to love.

In the kitchen, their father pulled out cartons of ice cream: Cherry Garcia and Phish Food and New York Super Fudge Chunk.

“Why so glum?” he asked them.

Felix just shook his head.

But Maisie said, “We miss us.”

“Us?”

She nodded. “Our family.
Us
.”

Their father scooped a ball of each flavor into the bowls. That’s how they did it in their family.

“So do I,” he said at last. “So do I.”

The next morning, Maisie and Felix had to go back to Newport. They kind of wished that Agatha the Great wouldn’t be there for breakfast with them and their father, but she was. She arrived fresh from Pilates, her hair in a ponytail, and a purple yoga mat sticking out of her oversize bag.

They had asked their father if they could have their last breakfast of the trip together at the Bus Stop Cafe, the very ordinary diner on the corner of Hudson and Bethune Street, where they used to go for grilled cheese sandwiches on lazy afternoons, or plain old bacon and eggs on mornings when
they ran out of milk or just felt like having someone else scramble the eggs.
You really want to go there?
their father had asked. He’d offered them all kinds of special breakfasts—knishes at Schimmel’s, Goldilocks omelets at Sarabeth’s, dim sum in Chinatown—but the only breakfast Maisie and Felix wanted was at the Bus Stop Cafe.

“Isn’t this cute?” Agatha said when she arrived.

Maisie noticed how she squeezed their father’s hand and bumped her shoulder against his.

“It’s not cute,” Felix said. “It’s just regular.”

“Okay,” Agatha said, giving their father a look that neither Maisie nor Felix could read.

“The coffee is pretty bad,” their father warned her.

“No,” Maisie reminded him. “It’s not bad. It’s serviceable.”

That’s what he always used to say.
The coffee isn’t terrible, Jenny. It’s serviceable.
And their mother would wrinkle her nose and take a sip and say,
You are absolutely right, Jake. This is a cup of serviceable coffee.

“Okay,” Agatha said again.

Their father took a swallow of coffee and nodded.

“Thank you for reminding me, kiddos. This is indeed serviceable coffee.”

“Inside joke, I guess,” Agatha said.

They ordered. Egg-white omelet for Agatha. Bacon and eggs for the three of them. With white toast. Their mother always said that the only thing white bread was good for was toast.

“So,” their father said as he mopped up the last of his egg with the last of his toast.

Maisie’s stomach rolled. Something about the way he said
so
let her know he was about to make an announcement. She hadn’t heard a good announcement in almost a year, ever since that day when her parents told her and Felix they were getting divorced.

“What would you two say if I told you I was moving back to the States?” her father said.

Maisie shook her head as if to clear out any interference. If her father was leaving Qatar and moving back, then this was a very good announcement.

“I would say great,” Felix said.

“Then I guess you need to say great,” their father said, beaming.

“Great!” Felix said, so happy he thought his chest might burst.

Then their father draped his arm around Agatha’s shoulders,
the way he did with their mother in the wedding album.

“And what would you say if I told you that Agatha and I are going to get married?” he asked.

Agatha was grinning and their father was grinning, but Maisie and Felix’s expressions had turned to stone.

“That’s great, too, isn’t it?” Agatha said, her voice so cheerful that Felix thought he might actually cry.

“It is great,” their father said, filling the silence Maisie and Felix had left. “I’m going to rent a studio downtown again and get back to painting, and Agatha will work at a gallery…”