Chapter TEN
“Hello,” I shout through the screen door of Auli’i’s house.
Her front porch squeaks as I shift my feet, and wait for her to come to the door. A stray chicken pecks along the front lawn of the cottage located on Hanalei Bay.
It’s a single story home, up on risers with front steps that lead to a wrap around screen porch. The siding is weathered with the paint slightly chipping away.
The lights inside are on, with the ceiling fan moving in a quick rotation when I glance through the screen. I knock on the door and am about to walk inside when I hear music coming from the backyard. I step off the porch and walk around the house.
The cottage is located on three acres of beachfront property. What the home lacks in aesthetics, it makes up for in location. It’s pitch-black tonight, but in the daytime, out the front door, the view of the amazing Makaleha Mountains, so green and vibrant, is breathtaking. Out the back, the Pacific Ocean spans as far as the eye can see.
I follow the sound of a ukulele to Lani and Auli'i dancing the hula under lanterns hung from nearby trees. Their bodies face the sea as their arms dip low to the side and then sway out as if they’re offering themselves to the earth.
I lean back on my heels and watch Auli’i as her long, white hair billows in the breeze. Her yellow, strapless dress follows her hips as they glide in a graceful pattern.
“You’re late, my dear,” she says, her back to me—that sixth sense of hers kicking in. Lani peaks over her shoulder with a wink.
I smile as I toss my bag on a nearby chair before joining them on Auli'i’s other side.
“We are praying to the mountains tonight,” she confesses with her arms stretched toward the heavens.
With our hands raised and pointed at the center, we give praise to the Kawaikini Mountain—the highest peak on the island.
“Let the hips glide, not wiggle.” Her words send my eyes to her hips, and I try to emulate her movements. “Let the spirit of Aloha flow through you. Feel the hula.”
I close my eyes and allow my body to feel the dance.
“Very good,” she praises. “Hawaiians believe the first hula was performed by the Laka as a form of worship.”
I open my eyes as she does the kaholo —one foot to the right and the other follows for two beats and then repeats the sequence to the left.
“May you have grace in your step, song in your hands, and Aloha in your heart,” Auli’l sings out with the rasp and wisdom from age.
The music has ended, and so has our dance.
Auli’i gives me a warm hug, and her kind eyes appraise me. While she takes me in, worry lines mar her forehead, but she doesn’t question me.
“I’m going to head out,” Lani calls from a nearby bench as she puts her shoes on.
“Where are you off to at this time of night?” Auli’i asks.
Lani’s face beams. “I have a date.”
“This wouldn’t be the same boy who dropped you off at two in the morning the other night, would it?” Auli’l may only be five foot two, but her power’s as great as someone seven feet tall.
The ever confident Lani wanes under her grandmother’s stare. “He’s a good man, Tutu. Besides, I am twenty-three-years-old. Who I spend my time with is my business.”
Auli’l grimaces. “Does he know how to respect a lady?”
“Yes, Tutu.” Lani puts her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder and leans in to kiss her cheek.
“Don’t soften up an old woman. I want to meet the man who tempts you.” She gives her granddaughter an inquisitive gaze.
Lani’s mouth twists to the side. “You make it sound so taboo. Jason makes me laugh.”
“So he has a name. I want to meet this Jason. He will come over for dinner so I can appraise him myself.”
“Yes, Tutu.” Lani gives her grandmother another kiss and then turns to me for a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I want to hear how Olivia Benson’s balls are.”
My eyes widen at her use of the term in front of her grandmother. Luckily, Auli’i hasn’t the slightest idea what Lani is talking about.”
“That girl has a mind for boys,” Auli’i says as soon as Lani is gone. “She thinks I don’t know what she’s up to, but I do. When her parents left, I knew raising that child would be a challenge.” She hooks her arm in mine and walks toward her house. “I just didn’t know how much I’d love it.” Her face is lit up with a wicked smile. She plays tough grandma in front of Lani. Behind the scenes, I believe she’s just as devious. “Come, we’ll have a cup of tea.”
“What about our lesson?”
She pats my hand. “We’ll still have it. Come.”
I follow her into her home and take a seat at the kitchen table while she turns the kettle on.
The white cabinets make Auli’s large kitchen appear more modest and warm. While waits for the water to heat on the stove, she moves about unhurried in her step. I can’t help but giggle from my seat at the table when she reaches for two cups and has to lean over the Elvis Presley cookie jar nestled in a corner atop the worn, wooden counters. She pours two cups of Passion Fruit tea and hands me one.
I thank her and inhale the citrus scent and savor the sweet flavor. Closing my eyes, I unwind my mind from the crazy day. The long, crazy day.
It feels like a million years ago I asked Isaiah to make Jax a Volcanorita. Pair that with the waxing of his balls and the knife throwing, and not only was today long, it feels so very wrong. Hurting people is not my style, yet one glimpse of Jax and I turn into a monster.
I open my eyes and sigh in disappointment.
“You have a wary look in your eye tonight. Tell me, what brings about this sadness?”
Her question doesn’t surprise me.
“I’m not sad.” Placing the mug on the table, I wrap my hands around it and feel the heat of the porcelain. It should be warm and calming, yet it feels like a reminder of sorts. Of the heat of something else, or shall I saw someone else.
My attention drops to the green, palm-leaf designs embroidered on the placemat beneath my cup. The events of the day roam my mind as my finger traces the scalloped edge of the fabric, but Auli’i’s stare unnerves me until I return her gaze.
I give in. “I’m confused. Someone from my past re-entered my life yesterday, and it caught me off guard.”
“An old love.” It’s not a question.
I nod. Unwilling to witness her response, I focus on the amber liquid in the mug—my fingers dance around the ceramic to avoid burning my hands keeping them in one place too long.
She places her folded hands onto her lap. “He must have wronged you a great deal to cause so much confusion.”
I bite my lower lip. “Yes, very much so.” A multitude of emotions runs rampant through me—confusion likely the strongest at the moment.
“When I see him, I see this great guy who tried to make everyone around him comfortable, even when they were at their most vulnerable. He can be an attentive listener or talk to a fly on the wall. He’s awkwardly funny and will never say no to a challenge.”
I touch my mouth to find it curved up in a smile. The feel of my lips spread wide makes my forehead pinch.
“I also see this terrible person who disregards privacy and leaves a loved one alone with a burden. It’s forced me to do terrible things I’m not proud of today. Yet, if you ask me if I’d do it again, I’d probably say yes. There’s something wrong with me.”
Her eyes travel to my fidgeting fingers steadily tapping the mug, and then down to my leg gently shaking beneath the table, and the deep lines of her face become more defined.
“Ho’oponopono.”
My hand and leg stop moving. “What?”
“It means ‘to make right.’ You need to correct the wrong that has happened in this man’s life.”
I hold up a hand and correct her. “No. It’s not so simple. He hurt me, not the other way around. And it was horrible.”
She takes my hand in hers and lowers it to the table. The smooth, but weathered skin of her palm holds tightly to mine. I stare at our connection and then into her charcoal gaze.
“When you want to move on. You do,” she says.
I lean back in my chair. I want to explain to her what Jax did, but that would mean I’d have to confess to having sex as a teenager which would only disappoint her. Her perception of me would be permanently altered by my foolish decision.
“Yes, Auli’i. I’ll work on it.” My smile is courteous even though it’s complete bullshit—I don’t want to forgive Jax.
The older woman sees through my deflection and waves her finger in the air before putting it on the table. “When you forgive others, you forgive yourself.”
I open my mouth to argue but stop short.
She continues, “Repentance, forgiveness, gratitude, and love.” Her stare remains firm on mine as she repeats the words. “Repentance, forgiveness, gratitude, and love. When you forgive others, you forgive yourself.”
Her hand reaches up to her chest and clenches her heart. “You need to restore your own harmony. If you heal yourself, you can heal the world.”
“Some people aren’t worthy of forgiveness.”
“You are so young, Trish. Why do you hold onto this burden of pain?”
My body feels heavy. A slow, simmering grief crawls up my legs and swirls into my torso. I know it’s all in my head, but the gravity of her words renders me immobile.
“I’ve felt this way for a third of my life. I don’t know how to exist without it.” The confession brings me a hint of levity.
Her hand returns to mine, and with a gentle squeeze, she responds, “He has wandered back into your life for a reason. Let him atone for his sins so you can forgive and move on.”
I cross my arms in defiance and look away. “I fear I’ll never be able to.”
“Forgive?”
“Move on.” I wipe a tear from my cheek and inhale a shaky breath.
She pats me on the arm and gives it a little rub. “Soon, you will see. Very soon.”