Copyright
Summerside Press™
Minneapolis 55438
www.summersidepress.com
Love Finds You in Lahaina, Hawaii
© 2010 by Bodie Thoene
ISBN 978-1-935416-78-4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
All Scripture quotations, unless in the Hawaiian language, are from The Holy Bible, King James Version (KJV). Scripture quotations in the Hawaiian language are taken from Baibala Hemolele (New York: The American Bible Society), 1868.
The town of Lahaina is a real place, and Crown Princess Kaiulani Cleghorn was a real person. Though this story is based on actual events in the princess’s life, it is a work of fiction.
Cover and Interior Design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group www.mullerhaus.net
Back cover photos of Lahaina and interior photo of banyan tree taken by Ed Zafian, www.flickr.com/photos/edzaf. Used by permission.
Author photo © 2010 by Robin Hanley, www.RobinHanley.com
Summerside Press™ is an inspirational publisher offering fresh, irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind.
Printed in USA.
Dedication
With love,
for Robin Lynn Hanley
Oaka oia i kona waha ma ka naauao;
A o ke aloha oia ke kanawai o kona alelo.
Nui na kaikamahine i hana pono,
A ua oi aku oe mamua o lakou a pau.
proverbs 31:26, 29
Aloha nui loa! Ke Akua Mana E!
Acknowledgments
Our grateful thanks to:
• Lydia K. Aholo
• Leslie Stewart, Schofield Barracks, Hawaii
• Luke Thoene (www.familyaudiolibrary.com), for invaluable research
• B. J. Sams
Note from the Author
For most of our adult lives, Brock and I have spent every spring writing and teaching in Hawaii. Lahaina Town, on the beautiful Valley Isle of Maui, is the Crossroads of the Pacific. Over the centuries Lahaina has seen whaling ships, royal palaces, Christian missionary efforts, and the clash of civilizations. It is the premiere spot in the world from which to launch humpback whale-watching expeditions and scuba-diving trips, which we enjoy sharing with our kids and grandkids.
But for our family, Lahaina is also a location rich with history and romance. The story of Princess Kaiulani and what might have been first stirred my imagination in 1976. Brock and I met an old Hawaiian woman with a binder of early photographs beneath the enormous banyan tree across from the Pioneer Inn. It was among those sepia photographs that I first saw the haunting face of the beautiful young princess. When I asked the old woman about Princess Kaiulani, she smiled and said, “There is a difference between Legend and the Truth. All is not as it seems in the history books. The true story of the Kingdom of Hawaii is a secret that has not yet been written.” This is, in part, the story we heard that day.
Bodie Thoene
Prologue
Lahaina, Island of Maui, State of Hawaii
March 1, 1973
Sandi stared out the window of the Aloha Airlines 737 commuter jet as it grazed the West Maui Mountains and sugarcane fields on its final approach to Kahului Airport. As vivid colors swept beneath her, she gasped, feeling something like Wendy must have felt, flying with Peter Pan, swooping down on Neverland for the first time.
Tossing her auburn shoulder-length hair, she whispered, “First star on the right and straight on till morning.”
Neat, silver-blue pineapple fields spread out like patches of metallic corduroy outlined by red volcanic roads. The island of Maui gleamed in the morning sun like a cosmic artist’s giant canvas upon which the paint had not yet dried. Jade, emerald, and watery pistachio green shallows were bordered by white lace waves and an ocean comprising of a hundred unnamed shades of iridescent blue.
Raising her camera to snap a picture, Sandi knew a photo could never capture the experience.
“First time Maui?” asked an aged, bird-like Hawaiian woman in the seat beside her.
Sandi nodded, not taking her eyes away from the vision. “First time in Hawaii.”
There was a long pause, followed by the incredulous question that had been asked a dozen times since the ticket counter in Los Angeles. “You come to Hawaii by yourself?” A longer pause, then, “Aloha. I’m Gramma Leda.”
“A pleasure to meet you. Sandi Smith. Yes. On my own this trip.”
Sandi’s entire life was bound up in her answer. At twenty-one Sandi had been the wife of a ground soldier missing in action over Viet Nam. Word of John’s fate and MIA status had reached her as she was packing to meet him in Honolulu for R&R.
For four-and-a-half long, lonely years, she had gone to bed never knowing if John was dead—or alive in a Viet Cong prison. Now, at twenty-five, Sandi had completed her undergrad degree in history at UCLA and was working on her master’s in American history. There was no need to go into the personal stuff or to tell the old woman how much she had dreaded coming to Hawaii without John. She decided she would just “stick to the facts, ma’am.”
Settling back as the seat-belt sign winked on, Sandi replied, “I’m part of the UCLA History Department’s Fifty States History Project. For my master’s degree. Fifty students are interviewing eyewitnesses to history across the fifty states. I drew Hawaii. Lahaina.”
The old woman shook her head. “Auwe! You sure smart. Lucky, too.” Looking at the ring on Sandi’s left hand, Gramma Leda winked. “They don’t let you bring your husband? Who knows? Maybe he come anyway, and love find you in Lahaina?”
“Maybe. Someday. But for now, I’m just looking for a great story.”
“Lots of that around. Who you gonna talk to?”
“The oldest woman in Hawaii.”
“That’s Old Auntie Hannah. Auwe! Sure. Old Auntie Hannah, she live the history. Saw everything. Knew ’em all—all the old ones. Kings and queens. Before my time, for sure. I was born in 1901, after it was all done. The princess was Hannah’s best friend, they say. Old Auntie Hannah’ll talk story, all right. Hope you got lots of paper to write.”
“Tape recorder too. Lots of batteries.” Sandi smiled and sat back, focusing her mind on the task ahead. She was grateful for this confirmation that she was on the right track.
“Lucky you. Where you stay?”
“Pioneer Inn. You know it?”
“Everybody know Pioneer. On the harbor. Right across from the old banyan tree. Dey bring in the old whale ship this year for tourists.” Gramma Leda held up a bony finger for emphasis. “I remember real whalers drinkin’ in the bar. Pioneer the only hotel in Lahaina till a few years ago. Where Old Auntie Hannah lives now. Corner room so she can see everything. Dey change her sheets and bring her meals. Got two rockers on her lanai. Don’t need nothin’ else to see whales breachin’. That ol’ lady got good eyes. Better’n me, and I’m twenty-five years younger, too.”
The jet floated onto the tarmac. If all aged Hawaiians were as lively as Gramma Leda, Sandi was going to need more batteries for her recorder.
A mob of family members engulfed the old woman, covering her with kisses and leis as she descended from the jet and hobbled toward the gate. Dwarfed by a circle of love and plumeria blossoms, she waved a gnarled hand in Aloha.
The warm Maui air moved like a silk scarf against Sandi’s cheek. The atmosphere was redolent with the scent of flowers. A quartet of snowy-haired women in matching blue muumuus strummed ukuleles and sang in Hawaiian as small, barefooted children danced the hula. Locals wearing a bouquet of bright-colored shirts di
splayed shell jewelry and souvenirs for sale on card tables. Sandi adjusted her sunglasses and pretended not to notice couples walking hand in hand to collect their luggage beneath the tin roof of the baggage claim area.
Behind her a child’s voice called her name. “Aloha! Hey! Miss Sandi! Miss Sandi!”
Sandi turned to see a nut-brown boy of about seven or eight, dressed in shorts, a tattered red T-shirt, and flip-flops. He ran toward her waving a plumeria lei, ivory petals tipped with yellow.
Bright brown eyes smiled up at her. Sandi stooped, nose to nose with his beaming face.
“Gramma says you malihini. Come all the way from the mainland to talk story with Auntie Hannah.”
“And what’s your name?”
“Alex.” He thumped his chest. “Gramma says she liked talking story with you on the plane, and you are very lonely. Gramma says nobody should come to our island without a kiss and a lei. She says you should have a proper Aloha when you come to Maui.” He held up the garland, urging her to bow her head slightly so he could slip it around her neck. Kissing her cheek, the boy smiled broadly. “Aloha nui loa.” He was not shy.
“So, Alex, cool. Aloha back at you. My first kiss and my first Hawaiian lei.”
“I tell Gramma you are very pretty. Brown eyes and red hair together. Very pretty. So Gramma sent me after you.”
“Thank you, Alex. You are quite the ladies’ man.” She laughed and stood erect, raising the blooms to inhale their scent. “And tell your gramma I hope to see her again. Tell her I said Aloha too. Aloha. From me.”
He bowed slightly, then hopped away in the awkward shuffle of a boy trying to run too fast in flip-flops. Sandi gazed after him for a long moment. Alex vanished into his tribe at the end of the shed.
The lei was cool and fragrant against her skin. The gesture of kindness unexpectedly brought tears to Sandi’s eyes. Was her loneliness so obvious to a stranger on a plane? She twisted the wedding ring on her finger.
Alone.
The hope in recent negotiations between the U.S. and the North Vietnamese for the release of POWs had sustained Sandi. Perhaps John’s name would be among those yet to be released. The thought had come to her that if John was alive and released from prison, the first stop would be a hospital here in Hawaii. She would be ready if and when the news came.
For now, Sandi had work to keep her occupied. Minutes passed. Fellow passengers clustered around the conveyor belt as suitcases tumbled out from behind a screen.
Sandi’s bag was the last to appear. She plucked her black American Tourister from the pile, remembering that she had been packing it when she first heard the news about John. She had not used it until now.
The Hertz Rent-a-Car counter was staffed by a young Oriental woman wearing a red hibiscus in her straight, black hair. The line of tourists was long. The clerk took her time with each new customer as if there was no one else. By the time Sandi reached the head of the queue, there was only one small, red Toyota Corolla hatchback remaining in the cheap standard class.
“SR5 Coup,” the clerk recited in a singsong voice. “Four cylinder, 88 horsepower, five-speed manual transmission. No air conditioning, I’m afraid.”
Sandi blinked at her in disbelief. Never mind the air conditioning. There was a bigger problem. “Five-speed manual transmission?”
“Automatics mostly available in Honolulu. Here on Maui, you know, mostly manual. A problem? There’s a shuttle to Lahaina every hour. Don’t really need a car in Lahaina.”
“No. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Sandi swallowed hard at the thought of managing a clutch and a stick shift on unfamiliar roads in a strange town. She did not admit she had only attempted to drive a stick once in her life. John had loved shifting gears in his red-and-white ’57 Corvette and roaring down the freeway like an Indy driver. Sandi had enjoyed the ride but never noticed how it was done. The biggest argument in their marriage had come the day John put her behind the wheel of his precious ’Vette and tried to teach her how to make the car go forward. The memory of grinding gears and grinding teeth still made her cold inside.
Sandi replied lamely as she signed the rental contract, “My husband was—is—a soldier. Drove—drives—a Corvette. Loves cars with clutches and stick things and stuff.”
“Well, then. You two enjoy. A Toyota Corolla is no ’Vette. But 88 horsepower plenty enough for Maui. I’ll need to see your husband’s license if he is the primary driver.”
“No. Just me.”
“Ah. Deployed?”
“Yes. Just me for now.”
“Well, then. Aloha.” The woman smiled sympathetically and slid the key across the counter. “Whales are really jumping at Olowalu Beach, I hear. You might want to pull over and watch for a while along the way.”
“I’ve got to meet someone in Lahaina. Business.”
“Okay. Another time. Drive safe. Mahalo.”
Mahalo? The Hawaiian word for “thank you” hung on Sandi’s tongue. She tried it out. “Mahal-lo.” She hesitated. “But which way to Lahaina?”
“Only one road to Lahaina. Go straight when you leave the airport and just keep on going. A little more than twenty miles. No traffic lights. No stops. Just drive along the coast. You can’t miss it.”
This was good news. Maybe she could put it in one gear and never have to shift again. “First star to the right and straight on till morning, huh?”
The clerk stared, then blinked. “You got it. That’ll be Lahaina Town.”
The hinges of the red Toyota squeaked when Sandi opened the hatch and tossed her bag in. The cloth interior, hot from the tropical sun, smelled like old socks in a gym locker.
Sandi studied the shift pattern on the gear knob and then ducked to examine the extra pedal next to the brake.
“Oh, Jesus, help,” she prayed as she practiced before turning the key to start the engine. Fifteen minutes passed as she forced herself to remember the argument with John on the day of her lesson. John’s angry words were burned in her memory.
“SANDI! Come on, Sandi, listen to me. Push in the clutch with your LEFT foot. The clutch. The clutch! Not the brake! Put it in gear. That’s neutral! Look at the diagram on the shift knob. R is for REVERSE. Yes. Okay. Better. Leave the clutch IN! Come on. Come on! Now let out the clutch slowly while you push on the accelerator with your RIGHT foot. Wait. Wait. Wait! Don’t POP the clutch. Let it out sloowly!”
Even now her cheeks burned as she remembered his frustration. For the first time since that day she was thankful that John’s angry words were branded on her brain.
As John shouted at her across time and space, Sandi calmly followed his instructions. “Clutch in. Gear shift in neutral. Turn the key. Engine on. Slide the stick into first. Let the clutch out slowly as you push on the accelerator.”
The engine raced and then, slowly, the hatchback rolled smoothly forward!
“Thank You, Jesus!” Sandi cried, creeping out of the lot and onto the highway. A Hawaiian in a beat-up pickup laid on his horn. Pushing on the gas did not make the car go faster.
“Pedal faster, haole!” the Hawaiian shouted out his window as he roared by.
“Aloha!” she shouted back. Her heart raced with the engine. What now?
Pulling to the far right shoulder, Sandi watched traffic zoom by. She studied the knob. There were numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4 in an H-pattern.
John began to shout in her memory again. “Sandi! Come on. You can’t stay in first gear. Listen to the engine wind out. Sandi! Sandi! First. Clutch in. Second gear. Clutch out. Hey! Hey! Come on! You’re gonna blow up the engine!”
She inhaled and replied aloud, “A rental Toyota is not your Corvette. But thank you, John.”
Sandi began again. Clutch in. First gear. Clutch out. Gas. The Toyota roared and leapt onto the road. The engine screamed like a tiger as she shoved in the clutch and slipped the stick into second, then quickly repeated her actions for third gear. What about fourth? The Toyota seemed content, rolling along the two-lane road to Lahaina at 38
mph in third. She decided this was as fast as she would go. The red hatchback now behaved like a normal automobile. Sandi didn’t want to push her luck.
But what about when she had to stop? Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead.
Never mind—she’d worry about stopping when she got to Lahaina.
Eyes on the narrow road, Sandi forged ahead, only dimly aware of breaking waves on her left and volcanic mountains rearing up on her right.
Were the giant humpback whales breaching off Olowalu Beach? Were double rainbows blooming above the West Maui Mountains? Sandi did not care. Fellow travelers pulled over from time to time to take in the beauty, but Sandi kept both hands on the wheel and a steady 38 mph. Half-speed ahead. She might have been last in line at Hertz, but she would beat them all to Lahaina. John would be proud of her. She had finally learned to drive a stick shift. Well, sort of.