JoAnn Bassett - Islands of Aloha 07 - Moloka'i Lullaby (11 page)

Father Damien was canonized a saint in 2009, and Mother Marianne was sainted in 2012.

As we gazed on the final resting place for Father Damien in Kalawao, our guide added one more disturbing footnote. When he was nominated for sainthood, St. Damien’s native country of Belgium requested his remains be removed and sent back to his homeland for reburial.

The few people remaining at Kalaupapa were upset and made every effort to convince the Church to not allow it, but in the end, they lost. As a concession, the Church allowed one of St. Damien’s hands to remain buried in Hawaii. So, all that is buried in the grave of Hawaii’s first saint is the bones of a single hand. A hand that built houses and churches, comforted the dying, and finally succumbed to the wretched disease he battled, both as a warrior and a casualty.

We ate our sack lunches in silence, and after a bumpy bus ride back to the corral, mounted our mules to make the three mile trek back up the cliff to the stables.

CHAPTER 14

Once back “topside,” I happily dismounted Ilikea and went to the stables office to pick up my “I’d Rather Be Riding a Mule on Moloka’i” bumper sticker. I wasn’t sure I’d put it on my car, since I wouldn’t rather be playing chicken on a mule than driving my Mini, but it was good fodder for bragging rights. I walked out to the parking area, wondering how I was supposed to get back to the airport to pick up my car. As I scanned the lot, Timo hopped out of his truck and waved me over.

“You have a good ride?” he said, flashing me a grin. “How ‘bout Amanda? I was kinda worried about her in those shoes.”

“She turned back,” I said.

“What?” The grin faded.

“Yeah. Right after we cleared the gate, she freaked out and they brought her back. I thought she’d called you to pick her up.”

He pulled out his cell and fingered the screen. “Never got a call.”

“Well, where do you suppose she is?” I said. It was a silly question since, until a few seconds ago, he’d assumed she had been with me.

“No clue. What do you think we should do?”

I found the “we” interesting. Amanda’s whereabouts weren’t technically my responsibility, but I imagined Richard might assign equal blame.

“I’ll call her,” I said. “I tried to call from Kalaupapa, but there wasn’t any service down there.”

I tapped in her number, but it went directly to voicemail. I left a quick message, asking her to call as soon as she got the message.

“Now what?” said Timo.

“Take me to the airport to get my car. Maybe she’ll call back before we get there.”

“Okay,” he said. “Jump in.” I noticed he didn’t offer me a hand up like he had when Amanda was around.

We got to the airport and she still hadn’t called.

“We gotta find her,” he said.

“She probably went back out to the Papohaku Beach house. I’ll go down there and give you a call when I figure out what’s what.”

“No,” he said. “I’ll drive. Leave your car here and I’ll bring you back after. I’m gonna be so screwed if we don’t find her.”

He roared out of the airport and onto the Maunaloa Highway. We tried to make small talk as he pushed the little truck to fifty, then up to sixty, but the roar of the engine and the wind whipping through the open windows turned our conversation into a series of “what was that?” and “sorry, can’t hear you’s” so we gave up.

The upper speed limit on all of Moloka’i is only forty-five. We flew by a big handmade sign featuring a profile of a Hawaiian warrior with carefully hand-painted red and blue letters that said, “Aloha. Slow down, this is Moloka’i,” but we were moving so fast Timo didn’t seem to take notice.

He made a shuddering right turn onto Papohaku Beach Road and the tires on the driver’s side nearly lifted off the pavement.

“You know, a few minutes here or there isn’t going to make that much difference,” I yelled. “She’s been gone for hours.”

“I know,” he hollered back. “But my ass is gonna fry if I don’t find that girl. Her man promised me a hundred-dollar tip if she tells him I did a good job.”

“I’m sure she’ll say you did. Lying around by the pool is more her speed anyway.”

We got to George’s place and Timo skidded to a halt in front of the gate.

“Stay here,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

I hopped out and hustled down the carefully manicured path to the pool area. No Amanda. I went to her
ohana
and knocked. No answer.

I ran back out to Timo’s truck.

“No sign of her,” I said.

“Great,” Timo said. “Now I’ve gone and lost some rich chick. I’m dead meat.”

I thought his response was a bit overblown. “She’s not lost. She’s just pouting. Trust me, it’s how she rolls.”

He shook his head. “That guy of hers made me promise I wouldn’t let her out of my sight,” he said. “I thought the mule ride was the best way to go. They keep tabs, you know? Those mule skinners really let me down.”

“But you’re the one who promised you’d stay with her.”

“Yeah. But some buddies called me to go fishing. I figured I’d kill two birds, eh? She’d be taken care of for most of the day, and I just had to get back in time to pick her up. How was I to know they’d mess up?”

I wanted to point out who’d actually done the “messing up,” but figured it wasn’t worth arguing about.

“There’s nothing to do but wait,” I said. I looked at the time on my cell. “It’s already four-thirty. Take me back to the airport to get my car. I’ll call as soon as she shows up, or you call me if you hear anything.”

We made another mad dash back to the airport and I hopped out next to the Geo. As Timo roared away, my cell peeped signaling I had a new voicemail. 

I looked at the voicemail icon and saw I actually had six messages. Seems I’d gotten a few calls while I was out of cell range.

The first message was from Hatch. He asked me to call back as soon as possible. By the fifth message, his voice was tight with anger.

“Look, Pali, didn’t you agree to keep your phone with you over there? I don’t know why you’re not picking up, but this is the last time I’m gonna call. It’s about Farrah. Please call, babe. We need to talk.”

I called him.

“Thank God it’s you,” he said.

“What’s going on?” I said. “I had my phone on, but I was at the Kalaupapa Settlement most of the day, and they don’t have cell reception down there. I’m really sorry, I—”

“Farrah’s had a seizure,” he said. “She’s been taken to Maui Memorial, but they want to airlift her to Honolulu.”

“Oh, no.”

“She won’t go. Ono’s totally freaking out.” He blew out a breath and it sounded as if Ono wasn’t the only one freaking out.

“I’ll grab the next plane out of here,” I said. “I might have to fly through Honolulu and then on to Maui, but I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

“Good.”

There was a pause, and he went on. “I’m worried, babe. I’ve never seen this first-hand, but we studied stuff like this in EMT training, and I think Farrah’s got full-blown eclampsia. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m on my way,” I said. “In the meantime, is there anything I can do?”

“Pray,” he said, and the line went dead.

***

There was a direct flight into Kahului at five-thirty, and I was able to book the last seat. While I waited, I kept calling Amanda. The eighth time I called, she picked up.

“What do you
want
?” she spat into the phone. “I was taking a nap.”

“Amanda, I was worried about you. I didn’t realize you’d left the mule ride until after we got to the bottom. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Bored out of my skull, but fine. Can you imagine Richard making me go on that? I’ve never been on a horse in my life.”

“Does Richard know you didn’t go?”

“No, and he’s not going to. Before he gets back tonight, you’ll have to tell me what it was like. He’ll probably bug me for details.”

“I need to talk to you about that. It seems—”

She cut me off. “Oh, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you come over to the house for dinner? George is hosting a little dinner party. I wouldn’t have agreed to go, but the gardener told me they don’t even have a McDonald’s here. Isn’t that sad?”

“Amanda, listen. I’m calling because I’m leaving the island in just a few minutes. I’ve got an emergency back home and I need to go deal with it.”

“What? You can’t go. You’re supposed to be helping me with my wedding!”

“We’ve still got more than a week and a half to go, and everything’s under control. If you have any questions, call Malama. I need to order your cake in Maui anyway, so I’ll do it while I’m there.”

“What am I going to tell Richard?”

“Tell him I had an emergency,” I said.

“No, not about that. What am I going to tell him about the mule ride? I need you to tell me stuff or he won’t believe that I went.”

“Forget about that. Tell him the truth. You didn’t go because it was too scary.”

“He’ll be furious. I already texted him and told him I went.”

“Amanda. I can’t help you. They’re calling my flight. I’ve gotta go.” I hung up.

They weren’t really calling my flight. I still had twenty minutes before we’d even begin lining up to board. Seems as high and mighty as I’d gotten with Amanda, she wasn’t the only one telling little white lies.

***

The flight only took thirty minutes, but as is often the case in stressful situations, it seemed to take hours.

We landed, and as I sprinted through the airport I realized I’d left my overnight bag in the maid’s quarters at George’s. No biggie. I had a hunch I’d be going to Honolulu soon, but I’d borrow a duffel bag from Steve and pick up a few essentials.

Hatch met me at the bottom of the escalator. He looked like he’d been up all night: pale skin, bloodshot eyes, and a deep crease between his eyebrows. Under normal circumstances I would’ve attributed his wretched appearance to a tough night shift. But he hadn’t been on shift the night before, so Farrah’s turn for the worse must’ve happened much earlier than I’d thought.

We hugged, and he gave me a quick kiss.

“You’re sure a sight for sore eyes,” he said.

Since I was only carrying my beach bag purse, he followed up with, “Did you check your bag?”

“Nope. I was at the airport when you called. I didn’t bother to go back and get it.”

He draped an arm over my shoulder and we leaned into each other as we made our way out to the parking lot. I couldn’t tell who was holding up whom, but I had a hunch it was pretty much fifty-fifty. Although Farrah had been my friend for decades and Hatch had only known her a couple of years, they had a special bond. Farrah had taken a beating on my behalf while I was away, and Hatch had been the one to protect her while she healed both physically and emotionally. After that, they’d been brother-sister close.

There’d been people who’d raised an eyebrow and whispered about how cozy the two of them had become, but I didn’t care. I knew them both. Before coming to Maui, Hatch had been unable to save his then-fiancé’s life, and it haunted him. He’d never throw away an opportunity to step up and play the hero for a damsel in distress. And, he’d never tarnish it by succumbing to a tawdry fling with his girlfriend’s best friend.

Farrah had come through her ordeal with a mixture of grit, denial, and faked cheerfulness. For months she’d been mentally vacant. She got up each day and went through the motions of her former life, but she was emotionally gray. Thankfully, she met Ono, the love of her life, just as the last of her physical scars had healed and the edges of her fear had scabbed over.  

***

We got to Maui Memorial Hospital in record time. Hatch had a firefighter’s Maltese Cross bumper sticker on his truck, which I’m sure accounted for the fact that although he usually drove fifteen to twenty miles an hour over the speed limit, he’d never once been stopped by the Maui police.

As we speed-walked through the hospital’s front doors, I slowed and turned toward the Information Desk, but Hatch grabbed my hand, nodding toward the elevators.

“I know exactly where she is,” he said.

We took the elevator to the second floor ICU. It was hard to keep up with Hatch’s long strides as he hustled down the corridor to Room 2-23, but I managed to get to the room only seconds behind him.

Farrah was propped up in bed. Her eyes were closed and her facial expression slack. I’d been in enough hospital rooms in the past couple of years to not freak out when I saw all of the beeping machines, creepy I-V poles, and tubes snaking in and out of her body. Still, it was a shock to see my vibrant, usually smiling, best friend with her mouth turned down and her face as pallid as a death mask.

“Is she in a coma?” I whispered.

“No, she’s sedated,” Hatch said. “Let’s go out in the hall to talk. You never know what they can hear.”

We went out, but I stood close to the large glass window so I could keep an eye on her.

“If they think she’d have a better chance in Honolulu,” I said. “Why don’t they just airlift her over there?”

“She’s refused to go. When she got here last night she was conscious. They told her they’d like to put her on a helicopter and she about decked the ER doc.”

“But now she’s knocked out,” I said. “Why don’t they just do it?”

“They can’t. Even an unconscious patient has rights.”

“The right to die?”

“She’s in a hospital, Pali. They’re not gonna let her die.”

“Then why do they want to send her to Honolulu?”

“The only treatment for eclampsia is to deliver the babies. And, right now, Farrah’s only about thirty-four weeks along. That’s past the age of viability, but the babies are still really small. If she delivers, the kids would have a much better shot at a state-of-the-art neonatal facility like Queen’s Medical Center.”

“But people have babies on Maui all the time,” I said.