Ocean: The Awakening (8 page)

“I’ll only give you crazy Pohakus one kind of publicity,” Ellsworth roared. “Obituary notices when you die!”

In the midst of a tumult of anger against this remark, young Alicia Ellsworth tried to calm the old man and get him to sit back down. He jerked free of her, and shouted toward the back of the church one more time, “I might even kill all of you Pohakus myself!” Then he sat down.

It was an awkward moment as the Mayor tried to regain control of the stunned, agitated audience. Heinz had always heard that his friend was well-respected in the Wanaao area, but he feared that he had done something this evening to irreparably damage his own reputation. No matter what Preston’s reason for the outburst was, the Pohaku’s legal claims against him, he had clearly gone too far in his comments.

Alicia had forced her brother to move to her chair, so that she could sit beside their red-faced grandfather, speaking to him now in low tones, trying to calm him down. Finally, the old man heaved his broad shoulders and took a long, exasperated sigh. His expression shifted from anger to a mask of anguish. Obviously, he was beginning to realize the damage he had done to his own stature in the community.

***

Chapter 14

When Kimo arose each morning, his first thoughts were always the same, his worries over his father’s declining health.

He realized that he should instead be focused on the larger concern over what was happening to the creatures of the sea, why they were crying out to him, and why they were behaving so erratically, and even aggressively, such as the frightening attacks at Olamai Beach.

Yet despite the immense importance of the ocean, and his special relationship with it, he was having trouble getting past the crisis in his own small family, affecting the fisherman who adopted him as a child and welcomed him into his modest home, the man who had been so generous to him with his time, and had become a true father.

But Kimo could do nothing to help the old man, had no powers to heal him like he did sea creatures. He’d tried the same methods on him, to no effect. Now, with every passing day, Tiny Pohaku grew weaker. Even spending an hour with him, the desperately ill man seemed more fragile at the end of that short period of time than he’d been at the beginning of it.

This morning Kimo sat at his father’s bedside, waiting for him to awaken. The young man sipped a cup of strong Kona coffee, then set the cup on a side table. He saw his mother through the doorway, preparing breakfast in the tiny kitchen.

As he looked back at his father, he saw that his eyes were open.

The big man cleared his throat, sat up with his son’s assistance. “I had a wonderful dream last night,” he said in a weak voice, “in which everything was normal and I was a young man again, strong and healthy like you.”

“You look better today,” Kimo said, lying. “Did you have a good sleep?”

“I had a good dream, but that is not the same thing.” He coughed, adjusted the pillows behind himself. “I smell something interesting in the kitchen.”

Ealani entered the bedroom, pattering across a thin mat on the dirt floor to place a steaming cup of coffee on a side table, and then handed her husband a plate of macadamia nut pancakes, topped with banana slices and coconut syrup. Though it was not an authentic Hawaiian recipe, it had become a favorite of his over the long years of their marriage.

After giving her a kiss, he said, “What is this special meal? It is not my birthday.”

“Every day with you is a special day, my darling,” she said.

Moments later, she brought in another plate for Kimo, and one for herself. They sat on side chairs, and the three of them ate together in silence, in the bedroom. She smiled in a kindly way as she watched her husband with his pancakes, but Kimo saw sadness in her eyes. She was having difficulty with her emotions this morning.

“Have I ever told you the story of why I was fishing in Upu’iki Channel the morning that I found you?” Tiny asked, looking at Kimo.

“Yes, Father,” Kimo said. He picked at his own pancake, taking only small bites. His stomach roiled from worry over the old man’s health. Besides that, Kimo would prefer eating the bounty of the sea today—raw kelp, leafy seaweed, small fish, plankton, and even burrowing worms that were parasitical to coral reefs. He always considered the ecological consequences of what he was doing, and tried to contribute much more to the sea than he took from it.

Tiny ignored his son’s response and said, “I arose early that morning, and was about to go out to one of my favorite fishing grounds off Namaia Head.” He looked at Ealani. “But your mother wouldn’t let me go there. She insisted that I fish at Upu’iki instead, and made me promise to go there.”

Hearing this, Ealani nodded silently.

“In fact,” Tiny continued, “she wanted me to spend the whole day there, and would not let me out the door until I promised.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t lie to her later, either, because she always knows when I try. I’ve learned not to oppose her, or she’ll find a way to use the spirit world against me. She’s always been in touch with something that the rest of us do not see.”

Ealani was looking away toward the window, as if bringing back her own memories of the occasion.

“When I netted you in the sea that day,” Tiny said to Kimo, “it confirmed more than ever that she is in contact with another realm. You are the prize catch of all time.” He paused. “Second to your mother, of course.”

Ealani gave him a smile, but Kimo saw the sadness persist in her eyes. She began to collect the breakfast plates.

“Your mother and I have been talking about what happened at Olamai,” Tiny said, “and we wondered if you could create another event like that, but bigger, something that would get the attention of the whole world. What if you could shut down every beach in Hawaii, and then publicize through Ealani’s cousin who owns a newspaper that it’s a statement against human abuses of the ocean? Stop all surfing, swimming, boating, and anything else on those beaches for a day. Terrify the tourists a little without hurting anyone, and we’ll get the publicity we need to save the ocean.”

“Father, I don’t think I–“

The old man wouldn’t listen to any objections. “After you do that, Preston Ellsworth and all his power will not be able to suppress the cause of the ocean, or call us crazy anymore.”

Kimo scowled, but saw his mother nodding as she listened.

“Your father is right,” she said. “The sea creatures are already agitated, and only need you to lead them.” She stood by the doorway, holding the stacked plates and utensils. “They have given you the template, and they will do as you instruct. You have a talent; you have guided them in the past.”

“They only follow me as I swim. Nothing of the magnitude you’re suggesting.”

She stared at him intently. “But my son, in the last few months you’ve discovered that you can summon jetfish and bubblefish, instructing them to amalgamate into oxygen-rich enclosures that are capable of transporting people across the sea or down, into its deepest underwater canyons.”

“That is true, but both species are capable of following only limited commands from me. They come when I summon them, then combine their bodies as I wish them to, and form particular shapes, and I can instruct them to either travel horizontally—the jetfish—or downward, the bubblefish. Neither species is particularly frightening; in fact, both have faces and demeanors that are quire appealing.”

“But if those two species do as you command, and you didn’t discover it until recently, it suggests that you could become aware of other abilities to command additional species.”

“Many species call out to you when you lie in bed,” Tiny said. “You have told us this.”

“That only happened one night, and when I swam with them I felt helpless to do much for them.”

“You must do more,” Tiny said, struggling with his voice and then coughing for several moments. “Shut down all the beaches; get people’s attention. Find more box jellyfish and lead them to the main swimming areas, or come up with another method of clearing the beaches, maybe taking sharks in there to make it more dramatic. See if you can leave the sharks at each beach, and take other sharks to other beaches.”

“But what if something goes wrong, and people are killed?”

Tiny’s face hardened, and he cleared his throat. “Do your best to make sure that doesn’t happen, but if it does, it does. One human life, or a hundred of them, are nothing in comparison with the damage humans are doing to the sea.”

“Your father is right,” Ealani said.

“But I don’t–“

The old man raised a hand, shutting off his son’s words. “It is like the land that was stolen from my family by white men,” Tiny said. “The ocean has been stolen from sea creatures by
haoles
, with their greed, disrespect, and utter contempt for morality.”

“It’s more than just
haoles
mistreating the sea,” Kimo said.

“But they’re the worst. White men are the worst.”

“Not all
haoles
are bad,” Kimo said. “You have told me this yourself, Father. You are not prejudiced against them.” He watched his mother take the dishes into the kitchen.

“I am prejudiced against greed,” Tiny said, pushing his voice to the limit of his strength. “And I’m against human avarice and human intrusions. I’m against people going where they should not go and doing things they should not do. When I fished, I respected the sea; I said prayers to Ku‘ula for a bountiful harvest and I moved from fishing ground to fishing ground, catching different species of fish. I did not overfish, did not abuse the abundance that the god of fishing provided for me.”

Kimo shook his head in dismay. “Like you, Father, I love the sea, and I sympathize with what you’re saying, but I cannot condone attacking people, can’t risk having it go too far. There must be a better way. Besides, my “talent”, as Mother calls it, is too limited for what both of you suggest. I have never commanded fish into formations. They might follow me to one beach, but when I leave that beach they would follow me away.”

“Son, you
will
find a way to do what needs to be done.” Tiny was getting worked up.

“Your father and I have seen the remarkable connection you have with the animals of the sea,” Ealani said, having returned from the kitchen. “You have a deep emotional linkage with them, something that enables you to understand them, the way they think. You were born in the sea, Kimo, and have a special bond with all things of the water. We’ve seen the way the fish and turtles and other living things gather around you and follow you when you swim, the way you heal them when they are injured. You must tell them what you want them to do.”

“It’s not like that at all,” Kimo insisted. “What you’re asking is not natural. No individual leads the schools of fish or other sea life. They just do things together, the way they’ve always done them, for thousands and millions of years. Schools of fish move together like flocks of birds, communicating with each other in their own manner. For me it’s not a conscious thing; I can’t send them thoughts and make them do things. I don’t hold conversations with them.”

Ealani put a hand on Kimo’s shoulder, and said, “Ask yourself this; Why were you born the way you are, with functioning gills and the ability to dive deep in the ocean? Why is it that you can take mouthfuls of seawater and remove the plankton from it as a food source, filtering out and discharging what you don’t need into the ocean? Why do sea creatures sense where you are even when you are on the land, and cry out to you at night? Why can you heal them? Do you think all of it is coincidence? Don’t you see the influence of a higher power that has put you on a path to do more? Don’t you see that you have a calling? Moanna has told you this; you have a destiny.”

“You must do something for the ocean,” Tiny Pohaku said. “You must try.”

Kimo hung his head. He knew they were right.

***

Chapter 15

Less than imposing, Wanaao City Hall was a cluster of linked one-story modules that had been floated in by barge from Honolulu and lifted into place with heavy equipment. The official rationale for this type of construction was that pre-fabricated units were less expensive than on-site construction, but Alicia had heard that a Honolulu manufacturer of pre-fabs paid bribes to local political officials, including the Mayor of Wanaao Town. She had asked her grandfather about it once, but he had shrugged and said he knew nothing of the matter, only the rumors that had reached his ears as well.

Now Alicia sat at a long wooden table with thick file folders in front of her, researching old land records, looking for information on the Pohaku family’s claims. The clerk, a slender woman with a Portuguese surname, told her that these musty-smelling records had not been entered into the computer system, but she did not say why, and did not say if they ever would. She had been cooperative, especially when learning who Alicia was, and had even asked how her grandfather was doing. So, despite the acrimony at the town meeting the evening before, the owner of the Ellsworth Ranch still had friends in the area. Alicia was relieved to learn this.

That morning at the ranch, she’d eaten breakfast with two more of his friends, the Governor and his wife, the female oceanographer he’d brought with him to the town meeting. The woman, Fuji Namoto, said she would stay for a few days to walk on the shores, go out in boats, and scuba-dive in the ocean, investigating sea life behavior in the area—all with the aid of two ranch employees, who would help her with the equipment and take her wherever she wanted to go. Governor Churchill, however, was taking a midday flight out of town, because he needed to return to Honolulu.

After breakfast, Fuji and Alicia had walked along the seashore, where Alicia described the problems with dolphins at the aquatic park; how the animals had never forgotten their tricks before, or been unable (or unwilling) to learn new ones. The oceanographer had seemed genuinely concerned, and Alicia liked her….

At City Hall, with a little digging, Alicia found records involving the Pohakus and their land claims, going back for more than a century. Many of the pages in the file were yellow with age and water-stained—a hodge-podge of typewritten and handwritten entries and bad copies, not in good order. The file included old drawings and black-and-white photographs of the former Pohaku land, showing a large, sturdy house and outbuildings—all of which were gone now, having been torn down to make way for ranch pastures.

She paused over a grainy old photo of Keke Pohaku, who had lost the land during a property tax dispute. In the files, she saw information about her own great-great grandfather, now deceased, Preston Ellsworth I. Up until now she hadn’t known much about him; he had always been a shadowy figure in her family’s past, a military officer like his son and grandson (her own grandfather), but also a landowner and aggressive businessman, whose fortune grew through astute real estate deals.

According to legal filings, Keke Pohaku asserted that he had paid his property taxes promptly for years, but officials took the position that he was in arrears on part of it and sold his land to the Ellsworth Ranch for back taxes.

She stared at the amount of the disputed tax: $ 72.37. An “astute” deal indeed! To Alicia, it looked like her great-great grandfather had
stolen
the property—and claims by the Pohakus over the years asserted exactly that and worse, insisting that a fraud had been perpetrated against them, and that an official was bribed to alter the records.

Fraud?
she wondered.
Did that really happen?

Carefully, she read some of the legal counter-claims that had been filed by Ellsworth-family attorneys over the years, a blizzard of paper. She flipped through the documents, located the court rulings. In each case, the judges ruled in favor of the Ellsworths, saying the Pohakus did not have receipts for their tax payments (which were always made in cash), and that no proof of fraud had been presented.

Next she found the latest claim by Tiny Pohaku, and the responses of her grandfather’s attorneys to it, along with a recent court order, throwing out the claim and ruling once more against the Pohakus.

By early afternoon, she had missed her lunch, and was beginning to feel hungry and thirsty. She’d been here for more than three hours, and had been so engrossed in the documents that she’d lost track of time.

Hearing voices behind her, she turned and was surprised to see Kimo Pohaku at the front desk, talking with the clerk. Kimo, the same man who had rescued her at Olamai Beach. He was looking at her now, and obviously recognized her.

Alicia reddened, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. Quickly, she closed the files, and left them on the corner of the table as she had been instructed to do.

She used the restroom in an effort to elude him, but when she finally exited the building she found him sitting on a bench, waiting for her. He had been reading a book.

“I’d like to apologize for the way I behaved the other day,” he said, closing the slender volume and rising to his feet. “I shouldn’t have been so rude to you.”

She smiled as she looked into his hazel eyes. “You saved my life. I could never be angry at you.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say that. You don’t know how irritating I can be.”

“Well, you’re not being that way now.”

“What brings you to City Hall?”

“Oh, nothing special. What are you doing here?”

“Renewing my business license.” He beamed proudly. “I operate a successful food market.” Then, with a sheepish expression, he admitted, “Actually, it’s a little fruit stand on the Wanaao Road. I have the third stand past Kawa’iki, on the way to Lani Falls. A little red building with pineapples painted on the walls.”

“Yes, I think I know it,” she said, though she wasn’t sure if she did. “Maybe I’ll stop in and say ‘Hi’ someday.”

She found him very attractive. Aside from his boyish good looks and muscular build, Kimo had a kind, compassionate way about him, and a gentle tone to his voice.

“We have special prices for you, as
kama’aina
,” he said, “not the prices I charge tourists.”

“Thank you, but I am not
kama’aina
; I am not native-born.”

“Don’t go on the dictionary definition. We extend the honor to newcomers who move to the islands and set up homes here.”

“So, my grandfather is
kama’aina
too? You didn’t seem to like it when you found out my name.”

Kimo hesitated, but said, “Yes, he is
kama’aina
too. It’s just that….”

“You don’t need to explain. My grandfather told me about the quarrel between our families.”

“That should not mean that you and I cannot be friends,” he said.

She smiled warmly. “I agree, and I’m pleased to hear you say that, my gallant rescuer. Well, I must be going. It was nice to see you again.”

He looked sad for a moment, then brightened. “Would you, would you like to go out with me sometime? We could ride my motorcycle to the top of the volcano, where the views are spectacular. Have you been up there?”

“Yes, by car.”

“I know special places, little-known trails. We could picnic up there.”

She had not agreed to go yet, but did feel an obligation to him for rescuing her, despite the awkward scene when he discovered her family name. He seemed like a pleasant young man, and she liked him.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked.

“The volcano sounds nice, but why don’t we go up by horseback instead? We have horses at the ranch. Can you ride?”

“I’ve ridden some, but wouldn’t your grandfather object? I am a Pohaku.”

“If he does, I will inform him that you are no more at fault for what your father has done than I am at fault for the actions of my grandfather, or of his father or grandfather. That’s why I came to City Hall, to research old land claims.”

He looked stunned. “And what did you discover?”

“We’ll talk about it sometime.”

Kimo smiled a little. “Maybe that would not be such a good idea?”

“Perhaps you are right.”

“So, why don’t we write a new page for our families?”

“I would like that.”

They set a time and a place to meet. She would pick him up by car on the Wanaao Road, and drive him to the stables….

Returning to the ranch late that afternoon, Alicia had intended to pick up her surfboard and catch some of the six-foot waves she’d seen breaking offshore. But before she could do that she saw Fuji Namoto trudging up a trail from the beach, wearing a black, one-piece swimsuit and scuba equipment.

“Look out there,” Fuji said, pointing at the water. She was breathing hard.

Alicia saw a broad expanse of rippling water, with numerous small, yellow-and-black fish breaking the surface.

“Butterflyfish,” Fuji said. “When I was diving, thousands of them swam toward me very fast—a huge school of them—and they only veered off at the last possible second. I was terrified. My pulse is still racing. They were hostile, didn’t want me in the water. I lost a bag of specimens I was collecting from the seabed.” She patted her shoulder, where an underwater camera was attached. “I got it all on video.”

Alicia gazed at the flurry of activity. Gradually, the water settled down, and the gently lapping waves looked as they always did, as if nothing had occurred at all.

***