Chapter 3
It was early Sunday morning. There was still a feeling of the night air that melted the senses, that crisp feeling a morning has just after sunrise. The palms and plumeria trees swayed in the breeze along the narrow streets of Lahaina. The sweet aromas of the tropical flowers were all around. One never grew tired of it even if one lived there. It was early, but the little town was bustling as usual with tourists staying on the island, as well as from a cruise ship docked in the harbor. It was a typical fall day in West Maui.
Peter stood with his mother and sister on the sidewalk across the street from Maria Lanakila church while they waited on his father who was parking the car. His arms were crossed, still not wanting to be there, particularly not wanting to go to Mass. He rarely had gone in the last few years over on the Big Island, always making an excuse not to go as he got older, much to the chagrin of his parents. It was partly one of the reasons why his predicament had come to this. Instead of going to church on Sundays, he would go hang out with his friends all day, which ultimately got him into trouble.
They stayed the night before at a hotel outside the airport in Kahului, then rented a car to drive over to West Maui, as it was the weekend for boarders to check in at the dorms. It was also the weekend Peter had been dreading for weeks. However, his little sister Ana was delighted as she got to fly on a plane over to Maui and stay in a hotel for one night. She was beaming as she felt like a tourist on another island. She was just there like everybody else. She loved it.
“Can we go to Hilo Hattie’s after Mass, please?” she pleaded. Her mother rolled her eyes, as did Peter.
“We have that on our own island,” her mother answered, knowing full well they were not going to go.
“Yeah, hello,” Peter added, “Hilo is like an hour away from our house. It’s where it started. Duh. Not to mention the one in Kona. Gosh you’re a dork.”
“Knock it off,” his mother scolded.
Ana kept pleading. “But this is a big one, the one you always hear about. My friend Sara says it was the first one, dork. We’d be stupid not to go.”
“You’re both wrong,” their mother said again. “The first one was opened on Kauai. And besides that, we are not going in the first place. Now, no more asking. Here comes Dad.”
“I don’t see why we have to go to church,” Peter said plainly.
“Because this is our last Sunday for a while as a family. And you are going,” his mother answered.
“Yeah,” Ana added on for good measure. Peter shook his head at her.
His dad came walking up dressed in his favorite aloha shirt. It was the one he always wore to Mass. It had a mix of red and pink orchids and plumeria on it. His wife always thought he looked handsome in it. “I couldn’t figure out if you have to pay on Sundays for that parking lot,” he said.
Peter pointed at a sign by the sidewalk. “It says right there, Dad. Free during Mass.”
“Ah, I guessed right then,” his dad said gratefully. “Glad some things don’t change. All right, let’s go in.”
The church was crowded as it always was on Sunday mornings. There were the usual locals that came every weekend and then there were the tourists trying to catch a Mass during their vacation. But this Sunday you had to take into account the added attendance by those coming for moving day at Lahainaluna High School for the boarder students. And it was common to see people from other islands attending Mass before taking their kids mauka to the school to drop them off for the school year.
The family found a pew where the four of them could fit. Peter sat down, a look of boredom across his face. He gazed around the chapel studying the intricate decorations around the altar. It was a typical Hawaiian church that was open-air, windows open on both sides of the church, with one long center aisle and the old style choir loft in the back behind the congregation. Mass began with the opening hymn that was sung in Hawaiian. The sound of the harmonic choir was infectious. Everyone turned, particularly the tourists, to look back at the choir to watch them sing their beautiful music. Hawaiian churches were renowned for their heartfelt and strong singing from the choir and congregations, and Maria Lanakila was no exception. Peter’s father smiled in approval at the lovely music and he sang along proudly. The choir even turned Peter’s sour mood a little more cheerful as well.
It was then, in the middle of the opening hymn, that he saw her. In the pew in front of them, just to his left, he saw a young girl around his age. She was a petite girl, plain and simple, with dark hair and a pretty complexion. But something about her struck Peter in a way he had never felt. She was beautiful. Her hair was drawn back in an ordinary ponytail that displayed the delicate features of her face. He was totally taken by her. He noticed her profile right away and he looked her up and down as coolly as possible. She had a feminine side that was very easy on the eyes as well. He stopped himself from staring at her in such a way, especially in the middle of Mass. He tried to look away, but he kept finding himself glancing her direction, studying her small hands as she held her hymnal. And she sang along with the congregation, loudly and beautifully as anyone else in the room. Peter felt weak in his knees. Who was this beautiful girl? He had to know.
Peter decided to pick up one of the hymnals in the book holder in front of him. He looked over at his father’s book to find the page number and he soon joined in singing. His father patted his shoulder proudly, happy to see him participating. But Peter was just trying to get her to look his way. When the song ended, he got his wish. He continued staring as he put his book away, trying not to be obvious, but he couldn’t help it. She had him in a trance. As she placed her book away, she glanced over at him and smiled and quickly turned her attention forward again. Peter smiled in recognition. She knew he existed now!
People filed out of the church after Mass had ended. The courtyard of the church was a beautiful spot with tall trees all around it and a nice grassy area near the front door. People stopped to talk and visit and the locals, kids and adults alike, would often sit on the grass to enjoy the morning air. The local paper vendor would hand out free copies of the Maui News for them to read as well. There was a large mango tree on the side of the church and kids were trying to knock the large fruit from the branches using sticks or rocks.
Peter kept his eye on his newfound interest, hoping she wouldn’t go too far after church was over. He wasn’t disappointed as she sat down on the grass with a newspaper in hand. He leaned on the far stone wall behind her, trying to act casual and not be noticed. He watched as some kids desperately tried to knock some mangos from the tree. He decided to help them out and picked up a short stick from the ground. He jumped to the wall and grabbed the low branch and reached out as far as he could and knocked four mangos from the tree. The kids erupted with squeals of excitement as the fruit fell.
The girl glanced over her shoulder, watching the kids laughing and having fun. A couple mangos bounced her way and one even landed in her lap. Then she noticed the culprit in the fun; she caught Peter in the corner of her eye just as he was jumping down from the wall.
Smiling at him, she held the fruit out to him. “I believe this is yours.”
He brushed off his trousers and approached her. His heart pounded in his chest. The sound of her voice was heavenly. He liked it instantly. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Didn’t bonk you on the head did it?”
“Almost,” she laughed. “But I survived.”
“Why don’t you keep that one,” he said smoothly. “I think they’ve got enough.” The kids were busy trying to peel and eat the large pieces of fruit. They were quite happy.
“Thank you, I’ll get my uncle to cut it up later,” she answered.
Her uncle? he thought. He stored that one in his brain for later. Perhaps she was from out of town. Or maybe her uncle was the only one in her family who knew his way around a mango. Peter had no idea.
“Sounds good,” he answered.
Just then, Peter’s mother called out to him. ?
??Peter, we need to go. We need to get up there.”
He frowned at her and then turned back to the girl on the grass and smiled. “Sorry, was hoping to talk more.”
“Peter, that’s a nice name,” she said. She didn’t know what to think of him but she obviously was interested in him. But who knew if she’d ever see him again? Maybe next week at Mass? She had no idea. She did think he was cute though.
“Oh, thanks,” Peter stammered. No one had ever told him he had a nice name. He nearly plowed into a little kid as he turned to leave. “Sorry kid. Um, I guess I gotta go.”
“OK,” she said, turning back to her newspaper.
He had left the courtyard and she could not see him anymore. She frowned a bit, feeling a bit sorry that he had left so soon. She was hoping to talk a little more too. There was something about him that lingered in the back of her mind. Something comfortable, something very natural about him. She smiled as she scanned over the paper, the mango resting on her lap.
Suddenly, a head popped over the wall directly behind her. “Psst, hey!” Peter called out. She turned to see him red-faced, trying to hold his head above the wall long enough to speak to her. She laughed at his antics and his obvious strain to stay above the wall. “Hey, I never asked you your name!”
Laughing at him, she answered sweetly. “Kaila.”
“Kaila. Nice! I love that name. Nice to meet you. See ya!”
He disappeared behind the wall, landing with a thud. Kaila could hear a muffled grunt on the other side as he must have landed hard. She chuckled to herself and went back to reading.